Donna Hill - Tender Loving Passion - Temptation and Lies

For an instant, Mia couldn’t move. She hoped that Jean couldn’t read the distress on her face, or hear the escalated pounding of her heart. Avante Enterprises had been one of her clients, and several years ago she’d broken a cardinal rule and had a short but fiery affair with its CEO, Michael Burke.

Chapter 2

Mia managed to get through the rest of the briefing without screaming. When she got behind the wheel of her Lexus, she wasn’t quite certain she’d heard anything Jean had said after she’d dropped her Michael Burke bombshell.

By rote she turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, along with the sounds of Marvin Gaye’s classic, “What’s Going On.”

That was the question of the day, she mused. She put on her glasses, drew in a long steadying breath and slowly pulled off in the early-afternoon traffic.

* * *

In the privacy of her business office, a ground-floor rental in SoHo, Mia closed and locked the door on the off chance that her new assistant, Ashley Temple, might decide to burst in—as she was prone to do—to update her on the latest TMZ news (a celebrity online and off-line news outlet). She was relieved that Ashley wasn’t up front when she came in and she was able to get to her office undetected, at least for the time being.

Mia depressed the Do Not Disturb button on her phone, then removed the manila envelope from her purse.

She placed it on the desk and stared at the innocuous-looking envelope. It looked like millions of others, but she knew better. The contents had the potential to turn her life inside out.

The affair between her and Michael had been discreet. No one knew about it, especially within the business circles they traveled in. Not even Savannah or Danielle had any idea that anything had transpired. They’d always believed that she simply hadn’t found the right man and, until she’d met Michael, she hadn’t.

When they broke up, it was a long three years before she started intermittently dating. But she’d never found anyone who could measure up—until Steven Long.

Mia ran her manicured finger across the smooth surface of the envelope.

If she broke the seal and opened it, there was no turning back. She’d have to carry out the assignment. Her type-A personality wouldn’t allow her to give up or turn the reins over to someone else.

Drawing in a long breath, she exhaled her doubts and trepidations and broke the seal.

The documents detailed Michael’s rise up the business ranks to eventually running his own management company. He was considered one of the best in the management consulting business.

Her pulse pounded in her temples when she scrolled down to review his personal information.

Marital Status: Divorced

Reflexively, she gripped the pages tighter between her fingers. Her heart thumped as her breathing shortened.

Divorced. He was free. At least on paper.

He was married when they’d met. Guilt had riddled her each time they’d made love until her conscience had no longer allowed her to do that to another woman. Michael had literally begged her not to leave him. He’d promised to get a divorce—just give me some time, he’d said.

But time and promises were things she could not depend on, nor did she want to.

“I can’t do this anymore, Michael,” she recalled saying to him, the agony of speaking the words making her voice paper thin, sounding weak and without conviction.

He turned onto his side. His dark brown eyes moved slowly along her face. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “Do what?” he asked, his voice husky and taunting. “This?” His large hand slid between her damp thighs and gently caressed her there.

Mia drew in a sharp breath as the powerful sensations rippled through her.

“Michael...” Her hips arched. She gripped his shoulders and he rose above her, bracing his weight on his forearms.

“I love you so much, Mia,” he said on a ragged breath as he pushed slowly inside her.

Mia wrapped her body and her heart around him, giving him all of her because she knew that this could never happen again.

And it didn’t.

* * *

Mia ran her hand along the length of her hair and for a moment shut her eyes, wishing the images of the past away.

She looked down and read further. Michael had been under surveillance for a while. He’d come under suspicion during a routine audit of his company’s finances. There were several discrepancies, which had apparently been cleared up, but he remained a blip on the radar screen.

Apparently, deposits of three to five thousand dollars were routinely placed in one of his secondary accounts, then were quickly transferred to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands.

The more she read, the more ill she became.

The Michael Burke she knew was ambitious, and he could be manipulative if it would land him an account. But this man on paper was not the man she remembered and had once loved.

She closed the folder and knew that shortly the ink would disappear, as if the damning words had never existed.

The knock on her door snapped her to attention. She shoved the envelope into her desk drawer, removed her glasses and went to unlock the door.

“Hi. Come in.”

Ashley’s updated Angela Davis fro bounced in a cinnamon-brown halo around her openly expressive face.

Every time she looked at Ashley, Mia thought of a highly energetic, inquisitive child, even though Ashley was easily in her early thirties.

Ashley was a godsend after Mia lost her last assistant to marriage and happily ever after. Ashley was bright, totally efficient and loved the event-planning business. She was so good, in fact, that Mia had given Ashley two of her own accounts to manage, and her clients loved her.

“Hey, boss,” Ashley greeted her, her warm brown eyes sparkling, as always. Her deep dimples flashed.

“What’s up?”

“A couple of calls that I thought you’d want to handle personally.” She handed Mia a slip of the company’s teal-colored message paper.

They walked toward the small circular table in the far corner of the office and sat down.

Mia squinted at the words on the page until they came into focus. “Sahara Club?” she asked.

Ashley read from a sheet in her hand detailing all the particulars about the Sahara Club, which catered to married couples who wanted to plan quick romantic getaways. The club management wanted to put together an event to promote their business, inviting previous guests to give testimonials about their experience.

Mia’s brows rose as she listened.

“I did an Internet search on them,” Ashley offered in response to the question that hovered on Mia’s lips. She handed over her research material. “I also have a short list of some of their clients. I can have them checked, if you want.”

Mia took the notes and briefly scanned them, the words blurry around the edges.

“This one is for the grand opening of a boutique in Tribeca,” she went on reading her second set of notes. “They want something really upscale. They’d like to come in and talk with you. Should I schedule it?”

“Why don’t you take that one?” Mia said absently. “I’ll sit in on the initial meeting if you need me, but I think you can handle it.”

“No problem.” She paused a moment. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”

In the six months that Ashley had worked for Mia, they’d grown rather close, sharing stories and giving each other advice on things like clothes, cars, best deals, politics, religion. Mia had even invited Ashley to join her, Savannah and Danielle for their weekly girls’ brunch at their favorite hangout, The Shop. Over time Mia had grown to respect Ashley’s judgment and clearheaded opinions, which she often sought out. But her current dilemma she could not share.