Лиза Джонс: Secrets Exposed

The elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor, his floor, and she stepped out into the corridor. A long hallway greeted her, giving her the unnerving feeling that she was in an Alice in Wonderland clip. As she searched each of the heavy oak doors for the proper address, the hallway seemed to get thinner and smaller. Nervousness was very out of character for her, yet the wrenching in her gut refused to be ignored.

At the very end of the hall, she found his apartment number, and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She hadn’t realized how apprehensive she was about meeting Mark Reeves, her father’s ex-partner, until she was actually standing in front of his door.

Life as she knew it was going to be impacted by whether she could convince him to take control over her father’s law firm. She needed him to run the firm so she didn’t have to.

Mark had her in a compromising position, and she hated it. She could only pray he was willing to be reasonable. Lindsey reached for the doorbell and gave it a quick jab. Waiting for a response, the seconds seemed to go by like minutes. Feeling impatient, she punched the button again. Seconds ticked by, and still no answer. It would be just her luck to have traveled halfway across the country, and manage to show up at his door when he wasn’t home.

She needed him to be here.

Intent on knocking, wrist in position, the door flew open. To her distress, she stumbled forward, her hand reaching for support, and landing on a very hard, very masculine chest. She looked up in shock to find a man, one she presumed to be Mark Reeves, staring down at her. A devilish smile slid onto his full lips as his eyes rolled down to the placement of Lindsey’s hand. Embarrassment swept over her as she followed his gaze. Yanking her hand away, she took a step backwards as if she had been slapped.

“I, I’m sorry,” she heard herself stammer in a voice that didn’t resemble her own.

Mark leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and crossed one booted foot over the other before clasping his arms in front of his t-shirt-clad chest. The casualness of his attire did nothing to lessen his good looks. If anything it enhanced them. He looked like a young James Dean, standing there, oh, so cocky, and masculine.

He was, in her book, a handsome, real life version of the Devil.

Had he not abandoned her father’s law firm, she would be back in Washington where she belonged. Instead, she was here, in Manhattan, desperate to find a way to get back home.

Mark gave her an assessing gaze. “Did you think holding the buzzer down would assure my attention?” His voice had a lazy quality, but it hinted at amusement. And his eyes were far too alert as they slipped down her body, and seemed to take in each and every detail.

She had carefully dressed in a fitted white, long-sleeved suit. One that was feminine, but not overly revealing. The skirt fell several inches above the knee. It hadn’t felt short when she put it on, but the way he looked at her made her reconsider. Her jacket had a zipper straight up the middle, which she left open just enough to be feminine. His eyes assessed the area as if she revealed more than she concealed.

She had the distinct impression he was trying to unnerve her, and she wasn’t about to let him think he’d succeeded. Despite the heavy weight of his stare, she managed a cool reply. “I didn’t hold the buzzer down. When you didn’t respond, I thought it was broken.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you ever consider I might not be home?”

“Actually, no.” She waved a hand his direction. “I see you are indeed at home.”

Looking at his light brown hair, a bit too long for the attorney he was, she assumed he was into nonconformity. “Normal” and “compliant” were not words that would be used to describe Mark Reeves.

His lips lifted in a slight smile. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. I wasn’t going to answer the door.”

“I don’t give up easily.” She took a breath. “Not when something is important. I really need to talk to you.”

Mark stood watching her for a long moment, seeming to contemplate every crevice of her face and body. She had to will herself not to fidget. She felt naked under his intense scrutiny. He was far more attractive than she had expected. Not that she hadn’t seen plenty of good-looking men. There was just something about Mark that really demanded her attention.

After several moments, he said, “Your pictures don’t do you justice.” His tone was suggestive.

“What?” she asked surprised. “Pictures? You know who I am?”

The amusement in his eyes seemed to brighten. “Do you think I could work for your father for five years and not know about his amazing Lindsey Paxton?”

Lindsey’s frown deepened. His tone was a bit sarcastic, and she didn’t like it one bit. “I had no idea. He and I . . .” Lindsey stopped short. She mentally shook herself for even starting to explain her relationship with her father. She stiffened her spine. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, steel in her tone. “I need to speak to you. Can I come inside for a few minutes?

“I’ll save you the trouble of coming in. You can tell your father no.” His tone held icy decisiveness, and his eyes were growing cold.

Not a good start. His feelings towards her father were still raw. She needed to get past the front door if she was going to plead her case. Arrogant, controlling men like this one—lord only knew she had worked with plenty of them⎯had to be handled with care. This was not the time to tell him why she was here. Inside his home where she had more sure ground was the place to lay it on the line.

As of yet Mark hadn’t moved from the spot where he was comfortably perched. He either wasn’t planning to invite her in or he was going to make her ask. She gave him a direct look that said she was not leaving until she said her piece.

“Mr. Reeves,” she started to speak, her tone sharp enough to match his, pausing for effect, which he took advantage of to interrupt.

His tone softened. “Mark is fine.” He smiled. A sexy, compelling smile that only served to enhance his strange shift of mood. “I hear ‘Mr. Reeves’ enough in the courtroom.”

Her lips pursed. She found this man far too appealing for her own good. Especially since he was the enemy for all practical purposes. Why, then, was she drawn to him? “Fine.” She paused for a split second. “Mark,” she said with sharp enunciation. “My father wouldn’t approve of me being here at all. I’m here for my own reasons.”

Their eyes locked in an unblinking stare. Curiosity flashed in his deep, dark eyes but quickly disappeared and was replaced by an expressionless mask. “Well then, I guess I should invite you in.” There was a taunting edge to his voice. “For some reason I find hearing your reason for visiting an entertaining idea.” His lips settled into a mocking smirk.

She bit her bottom lip to quell the sharp response that begged to slip from her mouth. Mark stepped to the inside of the door, and in an exaggerated, gallant wave, motioned for her to enter. She picked up her briefcase and entered the apartment. Lindsey followed Mark down several steps into a sunken living area. Inspecting the room, she hoped for some insight into Mark’s character.

The entire front of the living room was filled with curtain-free, ceiling-to-floor windows, allowing for a brilliant view of the towering Manhattan skyline. Lindsey walked to the sleek, contemporary, black leather couch facing the view and sat down.

The apartment screamed money and luxury, and a pampered lifestyle. Not that she faulted him for his choices. There was a time when she had chosen the very same things. Walking away from partnership rights in her father’s law firm had been a good decision. No, she didn’t have the money she had before, but she had her self worth.