Sweet Reward (12 page)

He looked up then, and those eyes pierced her. “How long are you going to stare at me?”

Well, hell, this was the second time she’d been caught admiring him. Her only consolation was that at least she hadn’t drooled.

Since she had no explanation for staring, other than the truth, she asked, “Have you been working all night?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders she’d been admiring. “I’ll catch a nap later today.”

“Did you find anything more?”

He frowned and looked back at his screen. “Yeah. But not anyone on our original list.”

Her drowsiness vanished in a snap, and she sat up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “At least I think so. Screen’s kind of blurry right now.”

“Why don’t I make some coffee?” She grimaced, suddenly embarrassed by her lack of manners. “I should have offered my bed. I mean, I have an extra bed … and a shower. If you’d like to freshen up.”

Crap, she was back to chattering again. And that flicker of heated awareness in his eyes hadn’t helped.

Thankfully, he didn’t remark on her awkward invitation. He stood and said, “Yeah, thanks,” and headed to the guest bedroom. Apparently, he already knew where it was. That disturbed her: he’d obviously walked around her apartment while she’d been sleeping, and she hadn’t heard him. But her shivers of arousal at the intense look he’d given her troubled her more.

Shaking her head with denial, Mia busied herself making coffee. Hopefully, a strong shot of caffeine would erase these totally crazy thoughts from her mind. There were a million and one reasons not to get involved with someone like Jared Livingston. They were way too different, for one thing. She loved to laugh and Jared had no sense of humor. He was all dark and brooding and she did her best to maintain a bright, sunny attitude. He was blunt, way past the point of rudeness. And to make matters even more impossible, they lived thousands of miles from each other.

She poured a cup of strong, hot liquid and took a
bracing sip. No, there was absolutely no way she could become involved with someone like him.

A sound brought her head up. Jared was standing at the entryway to the kitchen: black hair wet and gleaming, a towel draped over his bare shoulders, barefoot, and wearing only a pair of jeans.

Attractive?
The word lost all meaning. Hands down, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life. A small, dim voice whispered all the reasons she couldn’t get involved with him, along with the reminder that looks meant nothing; Mia successfully ignored the voice.

As if he hadn’t noticed that her cup was stopped halfway to her mouth and her eyes were as wide as saucers, he asked, “Okay if I use one of your razors?” He rubbed his hands over the stubble on his face.

Thankful that a nod could answer his question, Mia felt her head go up and down.

He nodded his thanks and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then, his mouth inches from her ear, so close that his warm breath teased her, he whispered, “Mia, your coffee’s getting cold.”

Heat zoomed through her body, and forbidden images and fantasies appeared in her head. Before her frazzled mind could come up with something remotely appropriate, he walked away. And though she told herself not to, her eyes followed him until he disappeared.

Holy smokes. Not only was she attracted to this gorgeous yet oh-so-very-rude man, but he knew she was. Now what was she going to do?

   Jared took a swallow of the admittedly damn good coffee and set it down. Sweeping the little pink razor along his soapy face, he avoided looking at his eyes. He knew what he would see. An acknowledgment of something
he couldn’t have. So what if she was attracted to him? Plenty of women, through the years, had found him appealing for one reason or the other. He sure as hell hadn’t slept with all of them. And there’d been a damn sight more that he had been attracted to and had not slept with—Mia would be just one more.

He rinsed the razor, brought it up to his face for another glide, caught the expression in his eyes he’d been avoiding, and could no longer deny the truth. Mia was different. Everything she did made him want to know more. She said she didn’t like to talk about her family, and he wanted to know why. Sometimes she’d get a faraway look in her eyes and he’d want to ask her what she was thinking. Hell, even when she yawned, he wanted to ask her if she was tired. He’d never met anyone more intriguing.

Discipline and control had been the cornerstone of his existence for as long as he could remember. He never did anything by accident or on impulse. Even sex. If he set out to seduce a woman, he succeeded. Total focus and concentration ensured success. Sex with a woman was no different.

Wiping his face, Jared took advantage of the unopened toothbrush and toothpaste Mia had placed on the counter, figuring she’d put it there for guests. Even something that minute and inconsequential gave him a slight pause. Years ago, he’d learned to never take anything without asking. And though that had been a lifetime ago, those kinds of lessons were some of the hardest to overcome.

After brushing his teeth, he shrugged into his shirt and then finger-combed his still-damp hair, barely glancing at the results. So what that she liked his physical appearance. That was a distraction he could do without. And his attraction to her was no reason for concern. The discipline
he’d honed over the years would ensure that he wouldn’t give in to temptation.

Denial of personal needs was his way of life. Mia would be just one more thing he could easily resist.

So why did he hear a mocking voice in his head whispering, “Famous last words”?

Philippe Ricard stood at the head of the giant oblong table and watched the members of his board of directors argue with one another. He would wait until all of their petty and worthless comments had been given. He was a man of patience. Let them have their say … then he would have the last word.

They had to approve this new wing for the children’s hospital. It had been on his family’s agenda for years—another testament to his family’s legendary philanthropy and another jewel in his crown as the greatest philanthropist in modern times. This project had to be done. He refused to accept any other outcome. All of their insipid excuses for delaying the project were unacceptable. Using lack of funds as their most valid reason was ridiculous.

Their silly arguments whirled around him. “We spent too much money on the new medical equipment for that clinic in India.” “We didn’t get as many donations this year as we did last year.” “We went over budget on that school in Nairobi.”

They sounded like a large gathering of wild birds, cawing about this and that. He’d been running his family’s corporations for years and had heard these excuses every single time he’d proposed a large project. This was
nothing new. And as he had in previous years, he would win this argument, too.

“Ladies and gentlemen, can we please turn our focus to how we’re going to achieve our goal, as opposed to the reasons we can’t?”

The harried voice of Jacques Ricard, Philippe’s cousin, barely penetrated the cacophony of sound that filled the room.

Philippe shot a kind but pitying glance to his cousin. The man didn’t command the kind of respect Philippe did, which was one of the many reasons his mother had left Philippe in charge of the foundation. Jacques was an idea man and did great things behind the scenes. Philippe, with his commanding personality, good looks, and charm, could sway anyone to his way of thinking.

The arguments grew more heated and vocal; Jacques was looking more anxious by the second. Moving slowly, so he wouldn’t attract attention until he was ready, Philippe picked up the gavel lying on the table in front of him. Though it was always there for his use, he rarely required it. Besides, overusing such tools made them much less effective. This time, though, instead of banging it on the table, as he’d done in the past, he felt the need for a more dramatic statement.

Aiming at the large globe light fixture that sparkled only a few feet away from the group of hagglers, Philippe let the gavel fly. A second later, a loud explosion was followed by a rain of shattered glass. Screams, shouts, and curses exploded as a dozen button-downed, tight-assed executives, moving faster than they probably had moved in years, scooted away from the broken glass.

“What the hell are you doing, Philippe?”

Philippe made sure his expression was one of cold determination as he let his eyes travel to each of the horrified members of the board. “This discussion is at an end.
The wing will be built. Hundreds of children and their families are depending upon us. I don’t care how you get it done. Just do it.”

With those final words, Philippe stalked out the door. Yes, they were fuming with resentment; some of them might even threaten legal action against him. His bevy of lawyers would love that. The board members’ hurt feelings or offended sensibilities were of no consequence. The only thing that mattered was continuing the work of his family. Nothing could get in the way. The good he did and the people he helped outweighed bruised feelings or offended pride. He had a destiny to fulfill and a legacy to protect. He would do everything he had to do to make sure nothing and no one interfered.

   After a light breakfast of sliced fruit, croissants, and jam, Mia leaned back against her chair and eyed Jared discreetly over her cup of coffee. He’d returned—fully dressed, thank heaven—with the same brooding attitude as before. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never believe he had an ounce of attraction for her. He was obviously going to pretend it didn’t exist. Which was what she needed to do, too.

“You mentioned another lead we hadn’t discovered. How’d you come up with it?”

“It occurred to me that we were only tracing Fuller back to people and organizations who’ve had suspicions and doubts cast on them already. We weren’t looking at any other avenues.”

“And you found another one?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And it’s going to blow some people’s hair back.”

Even more intrigued, Mia stood and took her dishes to the sink. Jared followed her and began to rinse his dishes. She was halfway through the washing, with Jared drying,
before she realized what a familiar, easy routine they’d gotten into. Which was odd, since Jared seemed the least tame person she’d ever met.

“You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know.”

She dried her hands on a dishcloth, then placed it on the hook by the sink. “I like to cook, and I like to eat. It’s not a problem to fix extra.”

“I can give you money for groceries or buy some food.”

She wanted to smile, but she wouldn’t. Though the words had sounded gruff and unfriendly, there was something else beneath all of that. Jared did his best to act like a jerk, and most of the time he succeeded brilliantly. But there had been a couple of times when she’d seen through that gruff, tough exterior to a kind, caring man. Of course he’d deny such a label being attached to him. But Mia had seen the evidence and was glad it existed. Again she wondered what had happened to create such a man. She would probably never know.

“I’ll let you take me to dinner one night.”

The furrow on his brow told her that wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. Again she fought a smile.

They returned to the living room. Last night, before she’d collapsed on the sofa, she and Jared had drawn up a long list of connections. Using Boyd Fuller as their lead, they’d tracked him throughout Europe, North America, and Asia. To the untrained eye, Boyd might have been the textile salesman his passport and papers claimed. However, once they looked at the connections from their standpoint, it was obvious that Boyd had been a child abductor. Had he also been a baby broker, selling these children to the highest bidder? Or both? Had he worked for more than one person or organization?

The leads she had come to Paris with and the ones Noah had developed should have given them at least one main suspect to focus their attention on. However,
before Mia had fallen asleep, she’d almost come to the conclusion that they were all going to go nowhere. Just when one lead sounded promising, something else would appear that made it seem improbable. And now, apparently, Jared had found something else.

“Okay, let’s see this new thread you’ve uncovered.”

“It seemed like a long shot at first, mostly because of who it is, but there are too damn many coincidences for us not to consider them as our number one suspect. And what better cover than an organization that seems so squeaky clean no one would ever suspect them?”

Jared turned the flip chart to a page Mia figured he must’ve prepared after she fell asleep. Again it was hard for her not to be disturbed by the fact that the man had apparently been very active and she hadn’t heard a thing. She hoped her lack of awareness came from her innate trust of Jared and not because she was letting her guard down. She had made a promise to herself that she would never let that happen again.

Her eyes roamed the maze Jared had created, which pinpointed various locations where Boyd had been. She followed the intricate web until it stopped at the top, and in all capitals, underlined, was the name of their new suspect: Ricard Enterprises.

She shot a look at Jared. “Are you serious?”

Looking as grim as she felt, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“How is this possible?”

Jared pointed to the first connection he’d discovered. “Years ago, Fuller worked as a temp at Ricard Industries. He and Philippe would have been roughly the same age.”

He waited for Mia to comment, but when she continued to stare hard at the paper, Jared continued: “Even though Fuller was employed there for only a short time, a year later, look who showed up to bail Fuller out of jail on a DUI charge.”

“Roland Ricard … Philippe’s father,” Mia murmured; then she shot a questioning glance up at Jared. “How did you find that information?”

He shrugged. “Hacked through a couple of back doors. The document was buried deep, but I managed to unearth it.” He didn’t add that it’d taken him all of five minutes to find it. Good computer skills were often best kept secret.