Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (48 page)

Then she fled down the hall to the elevator. With a bit of luck the car came right away and no one joined her inside. She leaned against the cool metal wall, taking long, deep breaths, as she tried to calm her thundering heart. For a few moments when the newlyweds clasped one another, she’d felt a longing so strong for a love like theirs that her chest had tightened and her eyes had pricked with tears.

She’d resigned herself that she’d never marry. Her parent’s example had destroyed any illusions she might have had about happily ever after. Her father lived with his bimbo mistress and their love child, even though he was still married to her mother. Her mother lived with her daughter now, after putting up with her husband’s infidelities their entire marriage because she thought that’s how Latin males acted. She’d still be living with him if his mistress hadn’t gotten pregnant. Apparently that made Ciara’s mother unable to turn a blind eye to his philandering ways.

No, Ciara had no illusions about marriage. But for an instant watching the Zikos, she’d wanted to believe.

“Who is she really, Bryce?” Gabrielle asked after Ciara fled the room.

Bryce turned from staring at the empty doorway, filing away the mystery of Ciara’s hasty retreat to examine at another time.

“I only know what she and her boss told me. I don’t know anything for sure. What did you see?”

“It was a precognitive vision, Bryce. You know they’re rare for me. You were angry. She said you owed her an apology. But you felt betrayed. You said, ‘I believe it’s the other way around. Who spied on whom? Who lied to whom?’ I wish I could have touched her and found out how she betrays you so we could prevent it.”

Bryce knew already. He was wary of her and he knew better than to trust her. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yes, we do,” Christian said. “If Gabrielle says Miss Alafita will betray you, you need to be careful.”

“I am being careful.” Keep your enemies closer.

Christian and Gabrielle looked at one another, and she shrugged.

“I hope you like Chinese.” Christian took the bag from his wife’s hand.

Bryce went with the change in topic and mood. “Of course. The hospital has been feeding me only soft foods. I don’t know what they’re afraid of.”

“They probably heard your reputation.” Christian reached for the rolling table where the biohazard bags still rested and jerked to a halt. “What’s that?”

Bryce told them as he took courage and the bags in both hands and moved them. The ricin couldn’t get out of the bags, couldn’t hurt him further.

The food was delicious, spicy after the bland hospital diet. The Zikos stood to eat — in deference to him — and fed one another out of their Styrofoam containers. When they leaned in for a quick kiss, Bryce busied himself with his own food.

They were newlyweds, still in the throes of newly discovered sexual desire and the first blush of love. Bryce wondered if they’d still be in love like this in five or ten years. He hoped so, but he had no example of a strong, lasting marriage based on love to compare them to. His parents hadn’t been by the time Bryce was born, if they’d ever been. Roger had lost interest in both his wives, and so had Paul, although he at least seemed to regret the loss.

Bryce had experienced desire but not love. He’d thought because of his parents’ example he never would. He’d been a groomsman for Roger and Paul, but seemed immune to marriage. So when he’d reached thirty-nine without falling in love he’d coldly considered a marriage to Monique Dennison.

But after he’d seen Christian with Gabrielle, what Bryce shared with Monique hadn’t been enough. He didn’t know what he wanted. The Zikos’ almost desperate passion and constant touching didn’t tempt him. But the way they looked at one another … he wanted a woman to look at him like that.

Seeing them together, sharing something he’d never experienced firsthand and barely understood, made him ache. Yet it warmed a place inside him, a place without a name.

“Bryce, don’t you like your food?” Gabrielle asked.

“Sorry. I was thinking about my case.”

“You shouldn’t be working so soon,” Christian said.

“You, of all people, should understand why I’m working,” Bryce responded. “Finishing this case is as important to me as resurrecting your business is to you.”

“But you’re doing this by yourself. I had Gabrielle and Roger. And Gabrielle was at home with me.”

“Roger, Paul and Sean are checking on me. And my housekeeper takes care of me at home.”

The couple shared a look, the universal one of the newly married who thought theirs was the better state.

“That’s not the same thing,” Gabrielle denied.

Bryce had recently begun to appreciate the difference. If only he could find a woman who could be his equal, who could arouse emotion in him as well as lust. His mind provided an image of Ciara Alafita — beautiful, poised, intelligent, and able to carry her weight in an argument with him. If Ciara wasn’t a spy for Adam Steele …

“Speaking of your business, how’s it going?” Bryce asked to change the subject. Besides, he really wanted to know. It was time he paid more attention to his friends.

Funny, he’d been aware of Christian through his older brother Paul since Christian was ten years old, but due to the decade age difference between them, he and Christian hadn’t been friends. But something had changed recently and now Christian — and Gabrielle — had become people he could count on.

Bryce toyed with the idea of talking to Christian about the lung damage. Christian took medicine every day for bipolar disorder, so he’d be able to empathize on a more personal level. But Bryce’s diagnosis was too new to discuss with anyone but Sean. And even with Sean, Bryce hadn’t let his feelings loose. He was afraid what would happen if he did.

That evening, when Paul Ziko arrived, Bryce insisted on having a shower. He’d lain in bed all day like a good boy, conserving his strength while he shared his room with a beautiful woman. He considered the shower part of his armoring. It took Paul, a nurse, and an orderly to prep him and get the job done. Being a former college athlete and now belonging to a gym, he had little modesty in the dressing room or shower. But he didn’t care to repeat this experience. He demanded the removal of the IV. He swore he’d take the damn pills rather than be tied to that pole one more day.

He watched part of the Detroit Tigers baseball game with Paul. His friend seemed sunk in his own sad thoughts, but Bryce didn’t know what to say to Paul. He’d had it all — a loving wife, two wonderful kids, and a house in the suburbs — and he’d thrown it all away to have an affair. Bryce had thought Paul the solid one; after all, he’d raised Christian after their parents died. But Paul went astray somehow — like they all had. Now Paul couldn’t find his way back. Bryce hoped being with a friend helped.

Two days later, when Bryce had adjusted to his inhalers, he demanded to go home.

• • •

Ciara rang the doorbell a second time. Bryce was supposed to be expecting her. This sprawling gray brick house in Grosse Pointe Woods, a wealthy Detroit suburb, must have cost him a fortune. She’d expected Bryce to own a condo — without maintenance or upkeep.

Bryce had been poisoned less than a week ago. He’d gone home from the hospital a lot sooner than she’d believed possible. It was that iron will of his. She’d seen it from the very first day she’d worked with him. He pushed himself with a determination she would have admired if he’d been doing it for some reason other than the Steele case.

The door jerked open and there stood the Bryce Gannon from the TV footage — blonde hair meticulously combed off a wide forehead and held in place by styling product that leached the warm gold from his hair. He wore a blinding white, starched shirt. She’d never seen him in any other color. He wore navy trousers and a green tie with navy and white rectangles. She’d never seen him in a plain tie either. His clothes looked tailor-made and fit him well, displaying how in shape his body was.

It was a shock to see him this way after the way he’d looked in the hospital. He felt like a stranger now.

“Are you coming in or are you going to gawk at me all day? You’ve seen me before.” Bryce’s mouth twisted in a wry almost-smile.

Ciara jerked her chin up and stepped over the threshold. As he closed the door, she explained, “I hadn’t expected to see you in a suit. It’s Sunday.” She was also surprised to see him on his feet. He’d remained in bed while in the hospital. Obviously there’d been a vast improvement since she’d left him Friday afternoon.

Standing beside him made her body quiver with awareness. He seemed so much more masculine and dominant now. She smelled a hint of aftershave, very light and undoubtedly expensive.

“I’m dressed for work,” he said.

“Are you going to the office?” If so, why hadn’t he asked her to meet him there, in a less intimate setting?

His hesitation was infinitesimal. “Not today.”

Bryce turned and led the way down a main hall with rooms branching off it. She dragged her eyes away from how the navy trousers molded his firm hips and buttocks to her surroundings. The woodwork had expensive wainscoting and crown molding. He entered a room on the left, which turned out to be a spacious study big enough for a black leather couch, lots of bookshelves, and a large mahogany desk.

Ciara examined the books. They were older casebooks. The ones in his office were newer.

As he stopped beside his desk, he noticed where she was looking. “My first reference books.”

She’d never owned casebooks. He owned two sets.

“I had the discovery files delivered here.” He indicated a line of file boxes on the thick cream carpet. “I want to go through every bit of evidence the prosecutor has and find rebuttals.”

His office manager had to be at his beck and call twenty-four seven since she’d called Ciara late yesterday to ask her to work with Bryce at his home today. Then Sharron must have arranged delivery of the files.

Ciara took her notepad from her briefcase and sat down on the couch, smoothing her skirt. She was lucky only her work clothes were clean, so she’d worn them. She would have felt at a disadvantage dressed in casual clothes while Bryce wore a suit. And she didn’t want that. She pulled the closest box to her.

Bryce picked up the box furthest from her and carried it to his desk. The loud thump it made when it hit the desk startled her into glancing up. He was grimacing and his left arm hugged his chest.

“Don’t hurt yourself so you have to go back to the hospital.”

Bryce glared at her but said nothing. She wondered if he could talk at that moment. He grabbed papers from the box and settled in his chair with them.

After a while he spoke. “You’ll need to interview this witness, Hasan. I think we can dispute his testimony’s relevance to the case against the client.”

“All right. When?”

“Call him and see if you can interview him today. He’s probably at home.” Bryce held out the file folder towards her.

He was an authoritative man who expected instant compliance. She rose and took the file from him, then gestured to the phone on his desk.

“Do you mind if I call from here?”

Bryce vacated his seat and rifled through the box again. She sat in the soft black leather chair, still warm with his body heat. A frisson of unwanted awareness zinged through her.

As she dialed the phone, she scanned his desk. There was only one framed photo. In it Bryce stood with three other men — she identified Roger Barrett and Paul Ziko — in front of a lake. All wore casual clothes and looked happy and relaxed. The photo had to be ten years old. Bryce’s blonde hair — free of styling gel — was a warm gold.

He showed steadfast loyalty to his male friends, yet there was no record he’d ever been engaged or married. Her father had taught her that men didn’t practice fidelity. Bryce couldn’t even commit to one woman.

Mr. Hasan could see her, so she made an appointment for within the hour. She turned to find Bryce listening beside her. Her body heated with his proximity. Her heartbeat sped up. Her breathing became shallow and then stopped altogether as he leaned towards her.

He pulled open the side drawer and handed her a small tape recorder. “Record the interview.”

Ciara’s breath whooshed out. She was being stupid. She oriented her thoughts to reality — she was Bryce’s researcher, not his love interest. Audiotapes were standard procedure with some lawyers.

“You could come with me.”

Bryce shook his head. “I’ve got too much work to do.”

• • •

Sunday morning Detroit traffic was light. Mr. Hasan was frightened by her questions, as he should be. Bryce intended to get Adam Steele off so he could continue his reign of terror against business owners like Hasan. She had difficulty not siding with him openly and ground her teeth in frustration against her situation. Finding out the truth about Bryce was protecting the public. But helping Bryce defend a lawbreaker went against all her principals.

She said as much to the AG on the drive back to Bryce’s house.

“I’m sorry you have to work on the case, Ciara. I hadn’t expected that,” Attorney General Baisden said. “Although it’s an unlooked-for opportunity to see how corrupt the bastard really is. I’m amazed he’s working already. He was just discharged yesterday.”

“He’s worked from his hospital bed the last few days.”

“He must really want to get Steele acquitted and quickly.”

“He’s driven, but I’m not sure yet what’s driving him. I can’t read him.”

“That could be because he’s been ill.”

“No, I think it’s more than that.” She’d reached the freeway on-ramp, so she had to end the call too soon. “Before I forget, he’s got expensive tastes and he lives in an expensive house in Grosse Pointe Woods. I can’t tell if he lives beyond his means or not.”

“I’ll check on his finances.”

“I have to go.”

Although she was sent to spy, she felt a traitor for baring Bryce’s secrets. If only she’d kept tighter control of her feelings, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She could learn something from Bryce’s example.