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“No offense, but I can’t think of anything I want to talk to a reporter about.” I’ve got a story I’m working on, and I could use your help.” I’d just like to chat with you a few minutes. “Deanna Johnson,” she said, thrusting out a well-manicured hand. Despite how battered I felt and probably looked, I squared my shoulders and faced her directly. There was an avid gleam in her dark eyes that got my back up.

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Her dark hair fell in thick waves around her shoulders, and her smile graced full lips that were a glossy pink.

Turning my head, I discovered a svelte brunette in a stylish skirt-and-blouse ensemble rising to her feet in the lobby seating area. Smiling as if everything were okay in my world, I rushed into the lobby and headed straight for the elevator, with a brief wave at the front desk staff. When I’d finished paying, I accepted his help out of the back of the cab and felt his gaze slide discreetly over my tearstained face. “Good evening, Miss Tramell.” The doorman accompanied the greeting with a tap of his fingers to the brim of his hat and waited patiently while I swiped my debit card.

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The night doorman opened the car door before I could tell the driver to turn around and take me back, and the sticky August air rushed in to chase the air-conditioning away. The cab turned the corner and pulled up in front of my apartment building. The desolation in his eyes as the doors to his private elevator separated us had ripped me open inside. Gideon needed me now–as much as, if not more than, I needed him–yet I’d walked away. The riot of emotions I felt had my heart racing. I couldn’t take the chance that she’d told me her suspicions just to see if I’d run to him and prove that his breakup with me was a well-crafted lie. I’d left Gideon alone because I couldn’t trust Graves’s motives. It had also forced me to abandon the one person I needed to be with. The information that NYPD detective Shelley Graves had shared with me just a few hours earlier had changed my life. The ride from Gideon’s Fifth Avenue penthouse to my apartment on the Upper West Side was a short one, but somehow it felt like an eternity. I sat back, my arms around my waist, rocking. He waved us through the intersection just before the light changed. Even our therapist could be ethically and legally bound to break our confidence.Ī burly, neon-vested traffic cop appeared and urged the bus into its lane with an authoritative white-gloved hand and a holler that meant business. I wanted desperately to talk about it, to get help working it out in my head, but I’d never be able to tell anyone. I hated the thought of having to hold back what Gideon had done for me. I was suddenly struck with the knowledge that I would have to keep a dreadful secret from my best friend.Ĭary was my touchstone, my voice of reason, my favorite shoulder to lean on–and a brother to me in every way that mattered. His dark brown hair was sexily mussed and his emerald eyes were bright with mischief.

He lounged on his side, bare-chested and barefooted, his jeans unbuttoned to show both the waistband of his underwear and the sleek lines of his ripped abs.

The taxi driver was hitting his horn repeatedly, as if that would clear the way. Cary Taylor’s lips had a come-hither curve and his long, lean frame was blocking the intersection. Through the windshield, I saw my roommate’s million-dollar smile flashing at me from the billboard on the side of a bus. Jun 6 – UK, IrelandThe blare of a horn snapped me back to the present. I needed him like I needed my heart to beat, and he’d put himself in great jeopardy, risking everything–for me. From the moment I first saw him–saw through his stunning and impossibly gorgeous exterior to the dark and dangerous man inside–I’d felt the pull that came from finding the other half of myself. Just thinking of his name sent a heated flare of longing through my tightly strung body. I was sticky with sweat from an intense Krav Maga class, and my mind was spinning with thoughts of what the man I loved had done. Whenever I made the mistake of paying attention, I’d find my right foot pushing hard into the floorboard, my body instinctively trying to hit the brakes.īut for once, I didn’t need any distractions. To save my sanity, I’d learned to focus on the screen of my smartphone instead of the cars rushing by only inches away. Fearless to a fault, they sped and swerved through crowded streets with unnatural calm. JUSA, CAN New York cabbies were a unique breed.