Intimate Betrayal (3 page)

 

Maxwell sat at the head of the conference table and tried to concentrate on what Glen Hargrove, his chief technician, was saying. But his thoughts kept shifting back to Reese, the way she looked, smelled, felt beneath his fingertips.

Without trying, Reese Delaware had somehow made him feel again. A sensation that he'd long ago denied himself—out of reach of any woman. Victoria had taught him an invaluable lesson, one that he would never forget. Sure there'd been plenty of women who'd kept him warm at night since her betrayal, but they'd only warmed his body, never his heart.

“…so what do you think we should do, Max?” Glen was asking.

Maxwell shifted his gaze in Glen's direction. “Check the production tapes at the plant. Perhaps the tapes will show who's screwing up. If that's not it, then it's temperature and air quality. You'll have to get the bio team out there to check it out.”

Glen nodded and took quick notes. He wanted to chuckle. He and Max had worked together since college. He knew
Max like a book. There was no way he was actually paying attention to what was being said—at least on the surface. Yet he was still able to answer his question without missing a beat.

“Why don't you guys take a five-minute break,” Maxwell said, checking his watch. “When we reconvene we'll be joined by a Ms. Delaware.” He cleared his throat. “She's the journalist from
Visions Magazine
who's been assigned to do a major article on the company. She may want to talk with some of you.”

A unified groan rose from the group of ten technicians. Maxwell knew that his team was single-focused when they walked through the doors of M.K. Enterprises. The slightest deviation from their routine and they became the surliest group of people on the face of the planet. He chuckled silently. Reese Delaware was certainly a deviation.

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” he continued. “See you in five.”

 

“So, what's the deal with this Delaware woman? What's she like?” Glen asked, sidling up next to Maxwell.

He shuffled through some notes on the table and shrugged. “She's a journalist. And you know how I feel about them.” He clenched his jaw.

Glen looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. “How long is she going to be hanging around?”

Maxwell took a long breath and exhaled. “She's been assigned to dog my tracks at all of our sites, interview me and anyone who knows me.”

Glen's thick, brown eyebrows rose. “You agreed to that?”

Maxwell slanted his dark eyes toward Glen. “You know better than that. I got backed into a corner by the Board. They voted for it.”

“Hey listen, before you know it, it'll be over and she'll be out of your hair—ancient history.”

“Yeah, that's the day I'm living for,” he joked, with a half smile.

 

“That's a pretty interesting group you have there,” Reese commented as she and Maxwell left the conference room.

“They're the best in the business,” he snapped, automatically taking her comment as a criticism. He picked up his pace. Her scent was getting to him. He couldn't think clearly with her so close.
She
was getting to him. Just as she'd gotten to his crew. They were like putty in her hands. It was comical the way they practically fell over each other to get her attention. She wound them around her pretty little finger like rubber bands. The realization rattled him.

“I didn't mean anything negative. I think they're phenomenal. They're all so young and brilliant. And obviously dedicated to you,” she added.

He heard the ring of sincerity in her voice and it startled him. He gave her a curious look. The idea that his staff was dedicated to anything other than doing a first-class job never entered his mind. He always attributed their zeal to the love of their work.

He frowned. “Your writer's instinct must be off, Ms. Delaware,” he stated in dismissal. He opened the door of his office and stood aside to let her pass. She looked up at him as she eased by, her warm amber eyes skimming across his face like a stone over water.

A tiny chip from the wall crumbled and fell between them.

 

Reese and Maxwell spent every day together, practically glued at the hip. The staff of M.K. Enterprises seemed to welcome her as one of them. They more than answered her
questions and many volunteered to be interviewed just to be in her company. Reese Delaware had the ability to charm everyone she met. Even him. She was the first face he saw when he arrived and the last one before he left at night. As much as he hated to admit it, he had begun to look forward to seeing her every day. He even grudgingly enjoyed her myriad of questions.

“This has been a very enlightening two weeks,” Reese said, stretching her long, lean body like a contented cat. “I've gotten a pretty good picture of who you are as the businessman through your staff and watching you interact with them.” She waited for a reaction and got none, so she went in for the dig. “It's amazing how they can find so many decent things to say about you, Max.” She strutted back and forth across the room, one arm crossed beneath her breasts, the other hand twirling a loose tendril of hair. “That's the most curious thing about this whole process,” she added airily. “I'm really looking forward to the trip on Sunday. I can't wait to see what the California contingent has to say about the irreproachable Maxwell Knight.”

Maxwell didn't look up from the paperwork strewn about his desk.

Slowly Reese crossed the room, bracing her palms on the desktop.

Still he refused to look up.

Feeling especially mischievous, she flicked a pencil across the desk, finally capturing his attention.

“What is it, Ms. Delaware?” he asked, his heart racing as their gazes connected.

Reese leaned closer, so close she could count the silken lashes rimming those incredible eyes. “I will not be ignored,” she parodied in a great Glenn Close imitation from the movie classic,
Fatal Attraction.

Whatever resistance Maxwell had left came tumbling
down. It started out as a chuckle, then slowly built in strength and volume to a full-fledged raucous laugh.

Reese, caught up in the moment, joined in with her own throaty laughter, enchanted by the sparkle in his eyes, the velvet timbre of his voice. She propped her hip on his desk.

“We needed that,” she said, catching her breath.

Maxwell nodded in agreement. “I think you're right,” he chuckled.

“You have a wonderful laugh,” she uttered in a husky whisper. “You should do it more often.”

The metamorphosis was slow but clear. The light gradually dimmed in his dark eyes. Maxwell straightened up in his seat. “Carmen has your airline ticket. Don't forget to pick it up before you leave.” He cleared his throat. “If you need a car to take you to the airport in the morning, please inform Carmen on your way out.” He returned his attention to the papers on his desk. But suddenly the words and diagrams were all a blur. The rational part of him wished she'd leave. The thoroughly male part of him wished she'd come closer.

Reese would not be dissuaded. “I haven't seen anything of the city since I arrived,” she hedged. “Why don't you be the gentleman I know you can be and take me out? Give me the twenty-five-cent tour before we leave for California.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can be a gentleman, can't you?” she taunted, bracing her hips with her fists in a defiant stance. “You have to eat, so why do it alone?”

“What makes you think I'll be eating alone?”

Her mouth curved up in a grin. “Writer's instinct?” Her cocked eyebrow punctuated her point.

Maxwell pushed away from his desk and stood up. “I think you need to sharpen up on your writer's instinct, Ms. Delaware.” He paused then looked at her from beneath dark curly lashes. “But I wouldn't want you to go back to Chicago
believing all the negative things you've heard about New Yorkers.”

She watched him as he crossed the room and retrieved his jacket from the rack. A tiny tingle of anticipation rippled in her stomach. This is just the beginning, Mr. Knight, she mused. I'll get on the other side of that wall no matter what it takes. And you're gonna have a good time while I'm getting there.

“D
o you come here often?” Reese asked, taking a bite from a succulent piece of batter-dipped fried chicken.

“No. Actually, this is the first time. But I've heard a lot of the staff talk about Sylvia's. They've always had good things to say about the food.”

“Believe me, it's almost good enough to have me make the trip from Chicago.” She grinned. “The atmosphere is great. It's so cozy and personal.”

“Hmm.”

Reese took a sip of her chardonnay. “Where do you go? I mean—when you go out…on a date?”

“Getting a bit personal, aren't we?”

She gave him that slow, Mona Lisa smile that made his mouth water. “It's after hours, Boss Man,” she teased. “Time to lighten up and ‘Let It Flow,' as Toni Braxton would say.”

Maxwell flashed her a look as cool as the chinks of ice that floated in his glass. He leaned across the table, his
voice descending to an intimate low. “Is that right, Ms. Delaware?”

A rush of heat surged through her body. Her heart began to race. She lifted the crystal flute to her lips. Her eyebrows arched. “Very right, Mr. Knight.”

“Will there be anything else, folks?” the waitress asked, successfully breaking their tenuous connection.

Maxwell's steamy stare never left Reese's face when he asked, “Would you like something else?”

“What I want I can't get here,” she said, the seductive timbre of her voice winding its way through his heated bloodstream.

“No. Thank you. You can bring the check,” he finally responded off-handedly.

His dark, haunting eyes glided over her smooth features of milk chocolate, scorching her from the inside out. “Do you have any idea what you're toying with?”

Slowly her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. “Why don't you tell me.”

The corner of his mouth curled upward. “I'm not an easy man. I have no intention of building a relationship. I'm not looking for one, and I'm not interested in anyone that is. Still interested?”

“You only
think
you're not interested.” She lifted the glass to her dampened lips and smiled. “Your problem is, you haven't found the right woman.”

“And who might that woman be?”

“That's for you to discover.”

Maxwell eased up out of his seat and came around behind Reese, helping her to her feet. Their bodies brushed. Maxwell inhaled from between clenched teeth when he felt the slight shiver run through her.

“When you play with fire, Ms. Delaware, you're liable to get burned.”

She turned to face him and found herself breast to chest, belly to belly. To the casual observer, they appeared to be stepping into a mating dance, they were so close. Heat wafted around them.

“Let the games being,” she breathed on a husky laugh.

 

The ride back downtown from 128th Street in Harlem was conducted in a soothing silence, save for the smooth sounds of the local jazz station, pumping from the speakers of the gray Infiniti Q24.

Maxwell drove with the sunroof open, letting the cool summer's night air lower his body temperature. From the corner of his eye, he looked at Reese. His large hands tightened around the wheel.

She was totally relaxed. Her head was arched slightly back against the headrest, exposing her long, chocolate neck. Her amber eyes were closed, giving her an illusion of innocence. He could almost laugh at that thought. A lot of things could be associated with Reese Delaware, but innocence was not one of them. She exuded a near lethal dose of sexuality every time she breathed. He couldn't remember being so aware of a woman before.

He felt his resistance to her slowly peel away. But he couldn't let that happen. Reese was interested in one thing and one thing alone—getting her story, and she'd do whatever was necessary to get it.
Even sleep with him?
The sudden thought rattled him. He'd been used enough to further people's careers. He'd be damned if he'd be an easy mark again.

Maxwell turned away and poured all of his attention into getting her back to her hotel and out of his car. He continued down Seventh Avenue, tunneling all of his thoughts on the stop-and-go traffic. He was so absorbed that at first he believed the soft moans he heard were coming from the radio, until they rose to a strangled cry.

Checking traffic, he veered sharply to his right, and pulled over at the first available space. Reese was thrashing her head back and forth and moaning as if she were in extreme agony.

“Oh, dear God, make it stop,” she groaned. “Make it stop.”

“Reese.” His voice came to her like a gentle breeze in the midst of a storm. He reached out and touched her face. Her eyes flew open. Slowly she began to focus.

“It's your head again, isn't it?”

She could barely speak, but to nod in response would set off the jackhammers in her head again. “Yes. I…need to…take something…the pain. It's in my room.”

“Shh. Don't try to talk. We'll be there in a few minutes. Just try to relax.”

Maxwell eased the car away from the curb and jetted into the flow of traffic at the first break. He maneuvered around cars, trucks, buses and yellow cabs, all the while uttering soothing words of comfort. His deep hypnotic voice acted as a balm to her throbbing head.

“As soon as I get you inside, we'll take care of that pain. Breathe deeply in through your nose, and out through your mouth. The added pull of oxygen will help.” He glanced in her direction, pleased to see that she was following his instructions. “Do you swim?”

“As…often as I can,” she answered weakly, too exhausted to worry about where that question had come from.

“The Bahamas have some of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen,” he said in a slow, melodic tone. “The water is crystal clear. You can almost see the bottom. The waves are so gentle, they're like a warm caress.”

Reese succumbed to the melody of his voice, allowing her mind and body to become infused with the tranquil images he'd created.

Maxwell watched her slowly begin to relax. The tension lines between her brow began to ease just as they pulled up to the hotel.

Miraculously, Maxwell found a parking space and came around to help her out. He slipped his arm around her waist and she instinctively leaned into him, letting him bear her weight.

Before they'd taken two steps, Maxwell swept her up into his arms and pushed through the revolving door. Without protest, Reese curled against him, savoring the comfort of his strength, the power of his nearness. She rested her head on his shoulder.

For a mere second, Maxwell shut his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, experienced the fragile delicateness of her lush body. He grew hard with desire and desperately wanted to lean downward and kiss her pain away.

“Just a few more minutes,” he whispered in her ear. “Where is your room key?”

“In my purse.”

Without losing his balance or her, he slipped her purse from her shoulder and fished out her key. He tightened his hold on her and pressed the button for the elevator.

 

“Where's your medication?” he asked as soon as they were inside the suite and he had her settled on the couch.

“It's in the medicine…cabinet,” she stammered, shutting her eyes and leaning her head against the cushions of the couch.

Maxwell returned moments later with the medication and a concerned frown.

“Percodan. This is powerful stuff.” He looked down at her and she squinted up at him to bring him into focus. “How long have you been taking it?”

“I haven't had to take anything but over-the-counter
painkillers for the past three years. But the pain got so intense since I've been here, I had to call my doctor in Chicago to call in a prescription.”

Maxwell walked over to the lamp that sat on the end table near the couch and turned the light off. He crossed the room and turned on the stereo, reducing the volume to a mellow level. Stepping up behind her, he placed his thumbs at her temples and slowly applied a rotating pressure.

“Just close your eyes and relax,” he coaxed. “You don't need that medicine,” he continued in a lulling voice. “We can get rid of your pain together.”

“But…”

“Shh. Trust me, Reese,” he whispered.

“That's the second time you called me Reese tonight,” she whispered over the pain. “I'm wearing you down,” she added languidly.

Maxwell looked down into her exquisite face. He smiled.

“Magic fingers,” she hummed deep in her throat. “Magic.”

 

Reese awoke sometime after 1:00 a.m. to find herself alone in the semi-darkened suite with a quilt covering her. The faint aroma of Maxwell's distinctive scent lingered in the air. A slow smile tugged at her mouth. As much as Max tried to be the tough, unapproachable ice man there was an innate gentleness about him that warmed her as no man had been able to do before. His elusiveness was an aphrodisiac, a challenge that she couldn't resist. To hell with getting burned.

During the two weeks they'd spent together, she'd witnessed the gradual, if not grudging, change in him. But there was so much about him that she didn't understand. What was it that made him so distant at times, so leery of reporters, so unwilling to show the human side of himself?

All of her instincts told her that Maxwell Knight had so
much more to offer the right woman. And instinct also told her that she was that woman. Getting him to realize and accept that was going to be a lot tougher than getting her story. She stood, stretching her long body.

She'd never given up before, even when the doctors had given up on her. Even when she fought to overcome the nightmares, the loss of her family and her memory, she'd never given up.

She wanted Maxwell Knight. And she wouldn't give up until she had him—totally.