by Liv Bennett
THE PURSUIT OF PASSION
by
Liv Bennett
Copyright © 2013 by Liv Bennett
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE PURSUIT OF PASSION
Adam Garnett has been known for his utterly good looks, brilliance at closing multimillion-dollar business deals, and failed attempts at seducing his boss, Taylor Doheny: The beautiful widow of Adam’s best friend.
Three years after her husband’s death, Taylor Doheny is still determined to keep her heart locked away from men, particularly the ultimate flirt and notorious womanizer named Adam Garnett.
She had better take care; his ravishing words, sweet promises, and provocative gestures are threatening to break through her defenses and irrevocably get under her skin.
When Adam risks his life to rescue her during a vicious assault, Taylor can’t find it in her to ignore his broiling desire and obsessive lust for her. Will she be able to leave the past behind and open up her heart to Adam, despite the real danger of having her already fragile emotions crushed?
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Due to strong language and descriptive sex scenes, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
PROLOGUE - TAYLOR
The day Jack died was the day I came close to death myself. The last seconds before that merciless truck crashed into the back of our car replayed in my mind so many times that I am sure it is engraved into my synapses and won’t be erased, even if I suffer from a memory loss in the future.
We were driving on the interstate between San Diego and L.A. late at night. At exactly eleven thirty seven, just before midnight, Adele’s “Someone Like You” began playing on the radio. Jack hated romance pop as much as he hated snakes. So, he leaned down to change the radio station, in spite of my pleas for him to give it a try for once, and settled on “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. He even made a little joke about how that evil song was written for him, before slamming on the brakes and rear-ending the car that had suddenly pulled out in front of us.
Between the airbag blowing up on my face and the seat belt cutting into my chest, I heard Jack yelling, “The brakes aren’t working,” like a broken record. As I tried to pull my face away from the airbag that was drowning me, blinding lights blocked all my senses, and within a split second, the car shook with another hit. The last thing I saw before I passed out was the roof smashed down onto the driver’s seat.
All my hopes died with Jack, along with the meaning of my life. I had nothing to look forward to and nothing to fear from. It was as if my taste buds for life’s offers died altogether. Winning the jackpot or losing a finger would elicit the same effect on me; that is, no effect at all. When I saw people laughing or hugging each other, I turned away as though I’d accidentally clicked on the news channel in Chinese. I stopped understanding feelings. I stopped feeling sensation of any sort. Jack’s death emptied my emotional storage, if such a thing existed, and numbed me to the core.
And, ironically enough, the next time I looked death in the eye, it helped to set me free from my emotional dry land, and since then, a new hope has begun limping in.
That’s probably one thing I should thank my attacker for.
CHAPTER 1 - TAYLOR
“You’ve got multiple cysts on both of your ovaries, and your blood test shows hormonal imbalance. You might experience permanent infertility issues, if we don’t treat them now.”
Dr. Fowler’s words keep echoing in my ears like a catchy song you can’t get out of your head. There is a long list of issues I should take preventive steps against, cancer and osteoporosis being the top, but I don’t. So, why should I bother about infertility issues when my husband, the love of my life, is dead, and I have no plans whatsoever about having another man in my heart—or in my bed, for that matter?
Only, I can’t help but bother.
I’ve always wanted to have children of my own. If Jack and I’d had a child, perhaps I wouldn’t be so numb inside. And, I’d have a piece of him with me.
I hand the valet the key of my Hyundai, vaguely aware of the stretched Bentley and Aston Martin lined up behind, and stride toward the hotel door. The doorman greets me and opens the door for me. I nod and walk toward the majestic hallway of Peninsula at Beverly Hills.
My toes curl inside my five-inch-high heels as I step on the shiny marble floor, taking extra care not to slip. I stop to take in the simple but tastily decorated cream and brown anteroom, letting the one and only memory of me enjoying this luxurious hotel, a popular destination for the Hollywood’s rich and famous, flash through my mind.
Jack proposed to me here in one of its prominent, private villas almost four years ago. He’d planned everything perfectly; a delicious dinner with a violinist playing only for us, a grape-sized diamond ring that had ‘You and me, forever’ engraved on the inside, and a fascinating view of Beverly Hills. But I couldn’t give a damn shit for all the details. I had the most caring, handsome, and loving man in the world proposing to me. I would have melted into a puddle of happy tears, even if he had given me a rubber band as a ring… at McDonald’s.
A young girl with blonde hair carefully arranged in a bun on top of her head, wearing a green skirt suit, comes around the reception desk, taking me away from the sweet memories.
“Mrs. Edelman, welcome to the Peninsula at Beverly Hills.”
I smile at the way she’s addressed me, rather using my real last name, Doheny. My assistant instructed her well, I think to myself. Although three years have passed since Jack’s death, I refuse to change my marital status and still keep Jack’s last name.
She continues with a well-practiced tone, “We’re very pleased you chose our hotel for your company’s fifteenth anniversary celebrations. Everyone else has arrived and is waiting for you in the Magnolia Suit. I’m here to accompany you to the suit.”
Your company. Another thing I continue to keep after Jack’s death. His construction firm; the Edelman Constructions. I couldn’t tell granite from marble, but I promised myself, after Jack’s funeral, that I’d continue his family’s legacy and run the company his father had founded fifteen years ago. But more often than not, it’s the company that keeps me going rather than the other way around.
“Thank you.” I nod and pace with her toward the elevators. She starts reciting the menu to me as we enter the cab. I half-heartedly listen to her while checking my look in the mirror beside the sliding doors, to make sure my Roberto Cavalli sits right. One of the many ridiculously expensive dresses Jack bought for me. A purple, knee-length, sheath dress with a boat neckline. It shows half of my left shoulder and covers the other one fully. The shopping assistant at the store made me feel guilty about not buying matching shoes and insisted on selling me the most eccentric pair of high-heeled boots I’ve even seen. The cream boots reach a little above my ankles and are covered with large green, blue, and purple stones.
I run a hand through my hair that is resting loosely around my shoulders and suck in the fresh floral aroma as we leave the elevator and head toward the suite door. Although the people on the other side of the door in the suite have more reasons to fear me, losing their income bein
g the main, my knees shake as if I’m about to appear in court. I’m sure they expect me to give a motivational speech for the bright future of the Edelman Constructions and make a few silly jokes along the line. However, I’ve never been much of an extrovert and have gotten even worse since Jack’s death.
Jack must be watching me, otherwise, why do I feel so nervous?
The blonde, whose name I’ve already forgotten, opens the door for me and wishes me a great evening before she leaves. I clear my throat and step inside the suite.
Among the crowd, my eyes look for the one and only person who can help me out in this hairy situation; my good friend and HR manager, Valerie Holland. With her hot pink dress and dark-red hair, she’s not difficult to spot.
I’ll need time to get used to those red curls of hers. I liked her better as a brunette. For some reason unclear to me, she looked friendlier and more approachable with brown hair. Rather than changing her hair color every six months or so, she would do better to get rid of that pair of thick, black frames hiding her almond-shaped, brown eyes. As a caring friend, I told her so, and even bought a gift card for a complete laser treatment for her eyes in the most regarded eye clinic in L.A. for her last birthday. She’d easily meet a Hollywood celebrity or two on her way to her appointments.
But, no. The little miss red-hair will keep her glasses no matter what.
She stands only inches away from Adam Garnett, the project engineer. That’s his title, at least, but he involves himself in every aspect of the company and the projects we take over. He spends most of the time on the construction site to ensure that schedule and quality requirements stay on track, while keeping a keen eye on what’s going on with the staff, and still squeezing clients into his lunch break. He’s a one-man show in every sense, and if it wasn’t for his brilliance and commitment, I’d be signing for bankruptcy the minute I stepped outside of the hospital after the accident.
Adam lets out a hearty laugh at something Valerie says, and I remember Valerie’s rather surprising revelation, about her secret crush on Adam, the last time she and I went out to get drunk. That was two months ago, and I wonder if she still has feelings for him.
Actually, it’s not difficult to fall for Adam. Besides his tall, muscular figure, thick black curls, and intimidating hazel eyes, Adam is a person-magnet. It never ceases to amaze me how easily he can get along with different types of people, ranging from construction workers to CEO’s of multi-million-dollar companies. He’s like a movie star everyone wants to hang out with.
I’ve watched him enough at work to know that it isn’t just women who fall for his smoldering, bad-boy looks, but he has an enigmatic personality that pulls men, too. And strangely enough, other men don’t look threatened by the way women react to him. I bet he’d make a good subject for a social psychology class, only if the female students could manage to stop drooling and actually analyze him objectively.
Luckily for me, both Jack’s inner and outer beauty prevented me from having a crush on Adam.
I close the door rather loudly, turning the heads toward me. Crap!
“Here she is, finally honoring us with her lovely presence.” Adam moves through the crowd, holding two glasses of champagne. I’ll need both of them to calm my nerves. He sports his usual bad-boy look through and through, despite the perfect and crisp, navy-blue, two-button suit he’s wearing. His thick, long hair is unsuccessfully pulled back with gel, silken dark curls rebelling around his face. His eyes are constantly flaming, his lips curled at one corner hinting at the promiscuous thoughts that must be running wild in his mind. He extends one of the champagne glasses for me, and I take and swallow a large sip. “How are you?” he whispers, drilling his deep-set, intense eyes into me.
I’ve a sufficient number of reasons for my legs to shake tonight; I can’t deal with his not-so-subtle flirtations on top of them. I ignore his question and proceed toward the middle of the crowd where Valerie stands. She winks at me but says nothing. A few calming words would go a long way.
I guess the quicker I get the unavoidable opening speech over with, the better it’ll be for all of us. “I’m glad we’re here celebrating yet another successful year with higher profit margins and satisfied clients. And, let’s not forget our new employees.” I raise my glass toward the two ladies in the legal team. I hope they’re already drunk enough to overlook my shaking hands.
“When Jack died and I took over the company, I thought the right thing to do for the survival of the company was to sell it. After all, as most of you know, I was studying Sociology and had no idea about construction. However, you guys proved me wrong, and together we made the Edelman Constructions what it is today.” Some nod; some clap hands. “Each of you has left a significant imprint in our company’s success; be it Bree, who skillfully turns down some very persistent insurance Detectives; David, who manages to deposit the Christmas bonuses exactly on Christmas day, never early enough for us to really buy a Christmas present with it; and Valerie, who is so obsessively fixed on providing training for work ethics and professionalism that I feel a strong urge to download a porn video onto her computer.”
People laugh and nudge each other. Even the subjects of my little joke. I straighten my face and take another sip, before I continue with my nervous talk. “Together we’ll make Jack’s legacy last for many years and decades to come.”
The laughter dies into softer smiles at the mentioning of Jack. My eyes wander around to find Jack’s picture that I requested my assistant, Bree, to bring to the party. My beautiful man with the face of baby and heart of an angel.
“To Jack,” Adam says and toasts his glass with mine.
Even if no one gave a shit about Jack, Adam would, as Jack’s best friend since childhood. And actually, it’s thanks to Adam that the company is more successful than it’s ever been. Following Jack’s death, I had no one to turn to but Adam to continue where Jack had left with the business. Graciously, he resigned from his highly-paid position in a multi-million dollar marketing company to work for me. Upon his resignation, his employers convinced him to continue working part-time with the same amount of salary he used to earn working full-time. Same amount! How impressed they must have been by Adam’s success that they wanted to keep him so desperately. In the end, we made arrangements for him to work half of the week for me and the other half for the other company. Even so, his accomplishments have been more than I’d expected and helped us increase the company’s profit margins.
“Let the dinner begin,” I announce and motion everyone toward the spectacularly arranged tables with some extraordinary French food. All Bree’s idea.
As the guests start moving toward the tables, my eyes scan the suite for Adam and spot him by the door. He’s crooking his forefinger to me, gesturing me to go to him. I want to thank him in person, anyway, so I move toward him, under his intense stare, which makes me extremely self-conscious, as if I’m naked. His eyes are roaming over my body, lingering around my breasts. No amount of clothing will make me feel comfortable around him. I fist a hand on my side and clutch the champagne glass with the other to suppress the urge to cover my chest with my arms.
“You look particularly delicious in that dress,” he points out, as soon as I stand in front of him.
Delicious, mouthwatering, mind-blowing, tempting, and so many other inappropriate words of his preference to describe my looks. Where is the good, old pretty?
Nevertheless, his words burn into my skin and make the hair on my arms and neck stand up. I can barely escape his deep, penetrating eyes that are practically undressing me with each passing second. Were it not for several years of exposure to his blatant advances, and the sacrifices he’s made for the company, I’d have already emptied the contents of my glass onto his face.
“Thank you,” I say with my voice low. “I wanted to personally thank you for being a part of the Edelman Constructions. Don’t tell anyone, but it’s actually because of your hard work that the company is what it is today. You practic
ally saved my life by saving the company, and I owe you a big one for that.” Trying to crack a shy smile, I let my eyes follow the curves of his full lips, then move up to the hazel-fire of his eyes. A big mistake. My stomach twists and turns at the sight of lust brewing in his irises. He stares at me as if he’s restraining himself from smashing his lips onto mine.
“Is that so?” He leans in, invading my personal space, and whispers to my ear, “Then, why don’t you pay back the favor and go out on a date with me tomorrow night?” His breath is warm and penetrating on my skin, and I shiver at the close proximity of his lips to my ear.
“Adam, please. Not tonight.” I raise my left hand, my palm close to his chest. I can’t believe how he can be so dead set on getting me into his bed, under the false pretense of wanting to have just a dinner date with me.
“If not tonight, then when? When will you finally agree to have a simple dinner with me? I won’t initiate anything you aren’t comfortable with. I just want a few hours alone with you outside of work hours. We can order a pizza or go eat at a nice restaurant. Whatever you want.” The rawness in his voice, however, hints at everything but a simple dinner.
“It… it feels wrong.” I nervously twist my wedding band around my finger. Yeah, I’m still wearing my wedding band. How pathetic of me, and how much more pathetic of Adam to want to have a date with me. This only goes to show he just wants to screw me. “I’m not ready for this.” And I never will be. But, if I tell him that, it might be the end of his commitment to the company.
He rolls his eyes in a well-practiced manner, as if he was expecting my answer. “Three goddamn years have passed since the accident.”
As if I’m not aware of that. I drop my head and glare at the stones on my boots. I wish I could take them out and plug them into his mouth to shut him up, because he seems to have a long speech prepared.