Chapter One
Julia slammed the phone down and strode across her hotel suite. Cursing under her breath, she slid on a pair of black leggings and a hoodie over her lace camisole. After a long flight from Denver, what she wanted most was room service and bed. Alone.
Roarke Velasco. How the hell did he find her hotel and room number? He was up to his old tricks, using his power and influence to get whatever he wanted. She couldn’t allow him to get under her skin and into her bed, again. The only option was to get rid of him. Fast. She knew she’d have to deal with him at some point during her trip. It might as well be sooner rather than later. Sliding the hotel access key into her pocket, she closed the door and headed toward the elevator.
Hugging her arms around her chest, she walked off the elevator into the lobby, heading toward the lounge. It didn’t take her long to find him. He stood out like a shiny Maserati in a parking lot full of Fords. Cursing the uptick of her heartbeat, her eyes washed over his perfect form standing at the bar. Taking a deep breath, she tamped down the dormant fire stoked by his presence, squared her shoulders and strode to the bar.
“Chardonnay, please.” She placed her order with the bartender before turning to the man who was never far from her thoughts. “What the hell do you want?”
A sexy grin played along his mouth. “You know this city, sweetheart. I’m here to protect you. It’s the Velasco standard procedure.”
“Protect me? Thank you, but I’m doing fine by myself.”
Roarke slowly raised his drink and swirled the contents. “Maybe away from this place you’re fine, but don’t kid yourself, Jules. You’re in danger here, especially now with Shark’s appeal in the news. It was risky for you to come back.”
“Nothing can stop me from being in the courtroom to make sure that scum spends the rest of his life in jail. I owe it to my father’s memory to be there. Plus, I hear the informant is going to take the stand. I want to see the person who’s risking his or her life to make sure justice is served.” She swallowed the sob threatening escape.
Roarke searched her eyes. “Sweetheart. Shark’s people have very good memories, and their need for revenge is insatiable. They’re just waiting for you to let your guard down.”
“The prosecutor thinks it would be good for the case for me to be present at the hearing. He said it was okay for me to come back to New York.”
“I know. I wish Steve hadn’t told you that.”
“Damn it, Roarke. Is the whole city in your back pocket? Since when are you privy to my conversations? What happened to client confidentiality?” The mystery about how he knew where to find her was solved. She had given her contact information to the prosecutor’s office before she flew to New York.
“Steve’s an old friend, and he did me a favor by giving me a heads up to your arrival. He believes some extra protection is necessary.”
“If this is some lame attempt at ridding yourself of guilt, don’t bother; I’ve moved on.” She turned her head, afraid of what she might see in his eyes and the flood of memories it would invoke.
“Hey.” Roarke hooked his index finger under her chin and lifted her head so that her eyes met his. “I owe it to your father to keep you safe. I promised him. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, I will watch your every move while you’re here.”
Julia narrowed her eyes. “You and your world are the reason my father lost his life, and I will not be part of it. You want to watch my every move? Fine. You’ll have a great view of my ass as I leave.” She slammed her wine glass on the bar and turned on her heels, causing a few sidelong glances from the other bar patrons as she hurried toward the elevator. The doors inched closed as she approached. “Please, hold the—” The door shut before she could stick her hand between them. She poked at the up button, willing it to reopen.
“The door won’t open any faster that way.”
“Leave me alone.” She kept her back to him as a tear escaped the corner of her eye.
“I’d forgotten what a stubborn streak you have.” His husky voice was so close, his breath tickled her cheek. “I’d also forgotten how fucking good you smell.”
Closing her eyes, she leaned her back against his chest. For a moment, just one moment, she was safe. The ding of the elevator jolted her back to reality. Hopping in before the doors opened all the way, she first pushed the button for the fifth floor, then pushed and held the close button. “Go back to your penthouse and let the commoners live in peace. Your money can’t solve everything.” She glared at him as the doors closed.
A scuff-free black shoe stopped the door, and he stepped into the car. “That’s what this is about? Because this isn’t about money. It’s about you,” he closed the space between them, “and me.”
Shutting her eyes, Julia’s senses filled with the familiar scent of fine whiskey and unadulterated man. His hands wound around her waist as she lifted her face to his. “Damn it, I trusted you, and look what happened. You betrayed me then you let me walk away,” she whispered.
Roarke’s thumb rubbed a circle under her ribcage. “It was the best thing for you.” His breath puffed against her lips, his mouth close to hers.
Julia slid her hand up his rock hard abs and breathed deep. Damn, she missed him. Groaning, her fingernails dug into his muscular chest as she pushed away. She lingered a second too long. His power coiled around her like a snake ready and willing to squeeze every ounce of common sense she had from her body. Strong but gentle, his fingers trailed up her arm and neck to the exact spot behind her ear that made her weak in the knees. He had a good memory, damn him.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she willed her tears to stay put. She couldn’t show him how much she wanted him. How much she needed him. Not now.
“We can’t do this.”
His grip loosened. “What are you so afraid of?”
Her will crumbled as tears ran down her cheeks. “You. This place.”
“I’d never hurt you.” He cupped her face and wiped the tear with his thumb.
“Don’t you understand? You hurt me when you let my father go to Brooklyn that night.” She shrugged and shook her head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come back here.” The elevator came to a halt, doors opened on the fifth floor. “Okay, you saw me safely to my floor. Your job is done.” She pulled the access card from her pocket and strode to her door. His footsteps were close behind.
“Give me your key.”
“Man, you’re cocky. You’re not invited in. Get lost, Roarke.” She fumbled with the card. A warm hand encircled her wrist, and the card was swiftly taken from her fingers.
He slid the card in the slot and pushed the door open, walking into the room after her. “Wait here.” Within seconds he pulled the drapery back, opened the closet and checked the bathroom before returning to the room’s threshold. “All clear.” Leaning over, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Good night. I’ll be back at nine to pick you up.” He winked and closed the door before she could respond. She slammed a fist on the door.
“Lock the door, Jules,” he called from the hallway.
Chapter Two
Peering at the driveway leading up to the hotel’s entrance for her cab, she heard the tires of a black Shelby screech to a halt at her feet. It was a car she’d know anywhere. Crossing her arms, she raised her eyebrows as the window opened. “I’ve called a cab.”
“Get in,” Roarke growled.
She swallowed hard, ignoring the piercing blue eyes that read her every thought. “I told you I already have a ride.”
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror before yanking the stick shift into park, slipping on a pair of sunglasses and opening the driver’s side door. Within a few strides he closed the distance between them. She straightened her spine as he firmly grabbed her shoulders. With a sweeping glance at the bystanders on the sidewalk, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I know I’m not your favorite person, but you’re in danger. So get in the car now or I’ll put y
ou over my shoulder and throw you into the backseat.”
“You have to be kidding me.” Julia considered her options as the reflection of a black SUV swept over the surface of Roarke’s sunglasses.
“Get in the car!” he shouted.
She swiftly moved to the car as the SUV’s passenger side door opened. A man in a baseball cap and dark glasses pointed a gun at her. She slipped into the seat and slammed the door as Roarke sped away, leaving the SUV behind.
Julia whipped her head and peered out the back window then back to Roarke. “What the hell is going on?”
“You never listen, do you?” His glance flicked to the rearview mirror. “I said you were in danger. Did you think that was some sort of pick up line to get you into bed?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“That was a warning. They want to scare you into leaving. Otherwise they would’ve opened fire.” He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, slid his finger over the top and tapped the screen with his thumb before holding it to his ear. “Hey Steve, it’s Roarke. We had an issue so Julia will be calling in to the meeting. Yeah. Just as we thought.” He poked the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket.
“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with the law?”
“Steve and I have worked together for a couple of years now. We’re good friends.”
She snorted. “That’s a good one. New York’s mobsters and DA’s office playing nice in the sandbox. News at eleven.” She smiled and turned to him. His face remained unflinching as he checked the rearview mirror every few seconds.
She eased into the buttery leather seat and groaned. “Damn, I missed the Shelby.” She caught the curl of his lip.
“We had some good times in the old girl.” He turned the knob on the radio.
“Some things never change. Still like Frank, I see.” Julia nodded her head toward the dashboard.
They sat in a comfortable silence listening to Sinatra’s “Come Fly With Me”. Julia turned toward her window, enjoying the view of the Hudson River. “What now? Where are we going?”
The sound of the directional ticked in her ears, and they turned into an underground garage. “Roarke?”
He parked in a numbered spot and killed the ignition. “The only place you’ll be safe here in the city.”
The elevator left them off in a small but sleek lobby where a man who could double as a WWE wrestler stood in front of a bank of monitors. Julia wondered if he had his black suit custom-made to fit his height and girth.
“Marquis, this is Julia Hale. She’ll be staying with me for a while.”
Marquis’s eyebrows arched as his stare rested on Roarke before turning toward Julia. “Miss Hale. It’s nice to meet you. Please feel free to call me anytime during your stay with Mr. Velasco.”
Julia eyed Roarke. “You? This is where you live? No. I don’t think so.” She swiveled to face Marquis. “You can do something. Make me reservations at a new hotel.”
Roarke hooked his hand around her forearm and guided her to another elevator. “That won’t be necessary. Good night, Marquis.”
She opened her mouth to protest and looked to Marquis for help. Mr. Man-in-Black simply touched two fingers to his hairline in a mock salute, his attention moving back to the monitors. Clearly, she’d get no help from muscles in a suit.
Julia stepped off the elevator onto creamy plush carpet and scanned the floor that seemed to contain just two apartments. “Door number one or door number two,” she joked, following him to the one on the left.
He unlocked the door and held it open for her. Stepping through the threshold, she understood why there were just two units on the floor. His apartment was bigger than most houses she’d been in. Julia stumbled down the stairs to the sunken living room but caught her balance as she strode to the windows overlooking the Hudson. She turned and raised her eyebrows. "Nice bachelor pad. I bet the chicks dig it."
Roarke snorted. "What are we, back in high school? I've never brought a chick, as you say, up here."
"Yeah, right. Not that I have reason to care."
"You certainly didn't seem to when you up and left without a good-bye." He pointed to the wet bar. "Want anything?"
She faced the window and focused on a jogger running along the riverbank. "If I had come to you before leaving, would you’ve let me go?"
Roarke moved alongside her at the window. She cocked her head and studied his profile. Smiling, she remembered how she loved to run her fingers along his stubbled jawline. His chiseled features always took her breath away. But this was a different Roarke. In just two years, lines etched the skin around his eyes and brow. He blinked and stared at the river below. "No, I wouldn't have let you leave."
"Why didn't you come after me?" she whispered.
“I wanted nothing more than to find you, swoop you up caveman-style and take you back home, but I realized that wasn’t the best thing for you, and what just happened proves my point. You’re the last link to your father, and they’ll make your life hell now that they know you're back." He took a deep breath and met her stare. “Look, I have some work to do, and you have a call with the prosecution to go over the hearing. Please feel free to use the office down the hall. The guest room is next to it. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a few hours. Do not leave this apartment until I get back. You can’t go anywhere alone. Got me?”
“But I need to go back to the hotel and get my things.”
“I’ll take care of that. Just relax this afternoon.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head before walking away.
She turned back to the window as the door clicked open and closed, leaving her alone in Roarke Velasco’s massive penthouse apartment. Call with the prosecution. The appeal hearing was the reason she was back in New York. She’d have to face the man who shot her father at point blank range, execution style. Even though it’d been two years, it seemed like two days as far as Julia was concerned. Events leading up to her father’s death haunted her even more now that she was back. The hearing was sure to resurrect a gamut of emotion, from guilt to sadness to anger, but she couldn’t miss it. The informant who tipped the authorities to Shark’s whereabouts agreed to testify at the hearing. The police captured him before he killed the young couple he had kept hostage in their home where he hid after the killing. Whoever this person was, he or she was responsible for saving the lives of that couple. Unfortunately, her father hadn't been so lucky. Shaking her head to rid her mind of the memories, Julia opened her purse, pulled the business card with the phone number and walked toward the hallway to find the office Roarke mentioned.
She opened the first door to find a small office. Before placing the call, she peeked down the hall at the other doors. Curiosity and a full bladder got the best of her as she padded down the hallway. The next room contained a neatly made bed and dresser. It was about as personal as a standard hotel room, and she assumed it wasn’t used much. Her glance rested on a pair of closed doors at the end of the hall. Even though she was alone in the apartment, she tiptoed to the doors and turned the knob opening the door into Roarke’s very masculine bedroom. No woman had a hand in decorating this room, she assumed. It was all man. A black leather upholstered headboard took over the room. She walked to the bed and smoothed her hand over the silk sheet peeking out from the comforter and smiled. He’d always loved silk sheets. Her mind wandered to hot nights spent wrapped in nothing but silk sheets and Roarke’s arms. That was before she understood his world and what it stood for.
Don’t go there. She pulled her hand back, turned from his bed and headed back to the office without a second look.
Chapter Three
“Honey, I’m home!” Roarke joked as he juggled two huge bags of Chinese take-out and Julia’s suitcase.
She looked up from the book she’d found in Roarke’s office. “It’s about time. I was about to gnaw my own arm off. There’s absolutely nothing to eat in that work of art kitchen you have there. Why have rest
aurant grade appliances if you don’t even have the fixings for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
“I don’t spend a whole lot of time here.” He pulled a seemingly never-ending supply of white cartons from the bags.
“Obviously. That’s why every room looks like a spread from Architectural Digest. No pictures. No personal items. Except this book.” She held up James Patterson’s newest release.
“I’m a Patterson fan.”
“Me too.”
They ate side by side on bar stools at the kitchen’s marble-top island, chatting about movies, politics and their beloved Yankees. Roarke pointed to her empty wine glass. “Refill?”
Julia slid her glass toward his, and he began to pour. She held her hand up when the glass was a little less than half full. “I spoke with Steve.”
He swiveled the stool to face her. His knee skimmed her leg. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk about it.”
“He prepped me for what will happen. They expect Shark’s whole crew will be there to show their support. He said the informant is our ace-in-the-hole. He’s pretty confident Shark will get life.”
Roarke nodded and patted her leg. “I think so, too.”
“Well, I’m stuffed. At least you have something to put in that empty refrigerator of yours.” She waved her hand over the partially full containers while stifling a yawn.
“It’s been a long couple of days. I put your bags in the guest room. Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll clean up here.”
Nodding her head, she slid off the stool. “I actually agree with that request.” Stretching, she headed out of the kitchen but stopped before reaching the hallway. She turned around and smiled. He’d unbuttoned his shirt, and a smattering of hair peeked through. He’d also rolled his sleeves up, exposing strong forearms. Her breath hitched as her gaze lingered at his hands. The same hands she laced with hers and rested between her breasts as they fell asleep together years ago. The same hands that used to cup her face as though it were made from porcelain as he kissed her like it was their last. The same hands that trailed down her body and found just the right spot. Her gaze shifted to meet his, and the smile on his face told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. Julia cleared her throat. “Um, I just wanted to tell you, even though I may not act like it, I do appreciate you looking after me. I’m all alone in this.”
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