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  Zora came from a long line of accomplished academics. Her mother, Billie Campbell, was a Pulitzer prize–winning author and economist, and her father, Elliott, had been a Rhodes scholar. Zora was well on her way to following in their footsteps when she was discovered studying at an off-campus coffee shop. Deciding to sign with the Ford modeling agency had upset the family. Her parents didn’t approve of the lifestyle associated with modeling. Admittedly at that time, Zora had been seduced by all the trappings of fame. Easy money, VIP treatment and the possibility of the world knowing her name.

  Upon signing, Zora had experienced a meteoric rise to the top six months after her first magazine spread. She made outrageous money for just smiling and playing dress up. It was fun while it lasted. But like all things, there was some bitter with the sweet.

  For all of Zora’s book smarts, she wasn’t and probably could never have been prepared for fame’s dark side. There was the endless supply of drugs and alcohol at photo shoots and wild, over-the-top parties. She had seen other girls become addicts and fall victim to abusive relationships. Some managed to pull themselves together, some died and some were just plain lost.

  After ten years in the biz, Zora took her bow and allowed the next generation of beauties to take the stage. She returned to college, collected her business degree and then readied herself for the next chapter in her life. Not until Todd Brady came along did she think that stage would still include her selling her face and name. Turns out there were millions of women who were dying to know her beauty secrets. So she packaged them into a jar, slapped her name on it and set it at a price point that even Walmart-going moms could afford, and the rest was multimillionaire history.

  The assistant director popped his head into the room. “We’re taping in ten minutes, Ms. Campbell.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” Zora drew a deep breath and steadied her nerves. It didn’t matter how many times she’d done this, she still got a little nervous being in front of a camera.

  Beatrice finished working her makeup magic and gave Zora the last five minutes alone before she went out on set. However, thirty seconds in, there was a knock on the open door.

  Zora glanced over her left shoulder and then laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Melanie Harte beamed from the doorway. “I want to go on record that you have to be the hardest chick to find in Manhattan.”

  “Apparently not too hard.” Zora stood up from her chair and met Melanie halfway across the small room for a tight, heartfelt hug. “How have you been doing, girl?”

  “Fine. Fine. Like you. Busy as ever.” Melanie, a fashionista herself, rocked a cute off-white pantsuit and a sharp pixie cut. In the fifteen years Zora had known Melanie, the woman didn’t look like she had aged a day. Zora had the stray thought that maybe Melanie should get into the business of selling her beauty secrets.

  “I dropped by hoping I could take you to lunch.”

  “Today?” Zora blinked, trying to think what she had on her schedule. Most likely she was loaded down with meetings and appointments. Mainly because that was how it was every day.

  “C’mon. Say yes. It’s been months since we’ve gotten together and just girl-talked.”

  Henry reappeared in the doorway. “Two minutes, Ms. Campbell.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Zora glanced back down at her friend and felt the tug of playing hooky.

  “Don’t front. You know you want to,” Melanie pressed.

  “All right. All right.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s going to take about two hours to film this twenty-minute infomercial. I can call—”

  “How about I wait here on the set?”

  Zora blinked. “You want to wait?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Zora’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

  “Huh? What? Nothing.” She tried to cover with a bright smile, but it only made her look guilty.

  “Ms. Campbell, we need you on set.”

  “I’m coming.” She moved toward the door, but then stopped. “I’ll go to lunch with you, Mel, but don’t think I don’t know you’re up to something.”

  “Who? Me?” Melanie batted her long lashes at her friend.

  “Please. You ought to know better. That’s my signature move.” She wagged her finger. “You’re definitely up to something.”

  Melanie pressed her lips together in order to remain mum.

  Zora laughed. “All right. I’ll go to lunch with you but whatever else you have in mind, my answer is no.” Zora winked at her friend and rushed to the set.

  Melanie stayed behind with a huge smile on her face. “We’ll just see about that.”

  “You know you’re going to hell for lying to that sweet old man,” Kitty Ervin warned with a wave of her finger. She softened the admonishment with a smile. In the three years she had known Jaxon Landon she couldn’t remember a time she could ever stay mad at the sexy multimillionaire. In fact, it was hard enough just to be in the same room without having the impulse to rip off his clothes and try to screw his brains out.

  “Sweet old man?” Jaxon Landon chuckled as he sat down behind his office desk and pulled out his checkbook. “You can’t possibly be talking about my grandfather.”

  “Of course I am,” Kitty insisted, leaning a hip against his sturdy mahogany desk. “Despite your efforts to inform your family of my lucrative career choice, every five minutes, your grandmother was nothing but kind to me the entire time I was there.”

  “My grandmother, yes. Carlton—that’s a horse of another color.” Jaxon’s rich laughter filled the large office. At six foot four and caramel candy–coated, Jaxon Landon managed the impossible feat of being both pretty-boy fine and alpha-male rugged at the same time. He was always immaculately groomed from head to toe, and the way he walked exuded a certain wild and dangerous grace. And his voice! His voice alone had the power to weaken the strongest sistah’s knees.

  “Besides, old money is nothing if not civil. It’s what is being said behind closed doors that really matters. Trust me. My grandmother is likely crying to everyone who’ll listen that her mother is rolling around in her grave—no—rolling around, keening in her grave at the very thought of me marrying a stripper. I love her dearly, but she does tend to be overly dramatic from time to time.” He laughed, shaking his head.

  Kitty’s back stiffened. She wasn’t ashamed of her profession. It was the idea that someone thought it eliminated her from landing someone like Jaxon Landon. Just because he was the new “Prince of Wall Street” and was cloaked in money, power and respect didn’t mean that he was out of her league. It just meant that she would have to step up her game.

  Jaxon noticed that Kitty’s playful smile had vanished. He lowered his gold pen and rose from his chair. Jaxon kept forgetting people—mainly women—tended to be thrown off by his bluntness. He smiled as he moved around the desk. When he placed his large hands on her small shoulders and started massaging, he could tell by her twinkling eyes that all had been forgiven. “Sorry, Kitty. But I warned you before you accepted the job not to take anything that happened personally. My family can be closed minded and cruel sometimes.”

  She laughed, and then spoke before thinking. “It’s not your family you should be apologizing for.”

  Jaxon’s hands stilled on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

  Kitty mentally kicked herself. “Nothing.” She gently shrugged off his hands and moved from the desk. “My check?”

  Jaxon couldn’t let such a flippant comment go. “Are you saying you thought I was somehow being unreasonable?”

  Kitty really didn’t want to get into it. After all, it was none of her business whatever drama went on between him and his family. Chances were that she would never see them again anyway. Plus, she didn’t want to piss off Jaxon to the point that he would stop coming to the Velvet Rope. The women that competed for his attention grew more fierce every time he showed up. As it was, she was already the envy of every dancer in the place.
Mainly because she had the advantage of knowing that it took more than big breasts, a slim waist, onion booty and a pretty face to grab and hold his attention.

  Jaxon was an unusual client when it came to his visits to the gentlemen’s clubs. He wasn’t there to zero in on certain body parts. No. He generally enjoyed the art. He was particularly fond of the burlesque style as opposed to straight grinding on a pole and booty poppin’ in a sequined string thong.

  Smiling, Kitty leaned forward and let her expensive breasts press against his chest. “I would never suggest that you were ever unreasonable,” she assured, blowing her strawberry scented breath up at him. “You have to be the kindest, most generous man I know.” And she meant it. Jaxon Landon was known for many things: a son of a bitch when it came to business, dangerous when it came to those who crossed him and a heartbreaker when it came to women who had the misfortune of falling in love with him.

  But the one thing very few people knew about him was that he genuinely had a heart of gold when it came to people he cared about. It was no accident that she was the one to land the ten-thousand-dollar job to pretend to be his fiancée for the weekend. Kitty knew that word had gotten around the club about her grandmother’s increasing medical bills.

  Last week she was sobbing into her pillow, worried about where she was going to come up with an extra ten grand for her grandma’s surgery and then the next thing she knew, Jaxon was on her doorstep with a job for the exact amount of money she needed. That day she swore she could see a halo encircling the man’s head.

  And now, she had just insulted him.

  “Then what are you saying?” Jaxon asked, standing up straighter.

  “Oh, you know,” she said, trying to stall.

  Jaxon’s smile flatlined while he waited.

  Cornered, Kitty licked her lips and tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Whenever Jaxon leveled his intense mahogany eyes on someone, it had all the potency of drinking a bottle of truth serum. “I just meant that you seemed more…tense when you’re around your grandparents,” she confessed. “Once or twice, you may have come off a little short.” She shrugged and then tried laughing. “But, hey, I’m the same way around my folks. I don’t understand them and they certainly don’t understand me.”

  The office grew as silent as a tomb for two seconds. The longest two seconds of Kitty’s life. It wasn’t that she feared that Jaxon would suddenly erupt and fly off the handle. He would never do that. It wasn’t his style. It was all about his expressions and body language. A flicker of disappointment from him had the same effect as a parent scolding a child and whenever his beautiful eyes narrowed it was like a dagger piercing a heart. And if his rich baritone dipped to a rumbling bass, you knew your ass was in serious trouble.

  Then out of the blue, Jaxon’s smile was back. His perfect pearly white teeth and full, luscious lips had a way of making her feel like Cupid’s bow had pierced her heart. It was crazy how easily Jaxon could turn her on. It was like flicking on a light switch. More than anything, she wished that she meant more to him than just a plaything.

  “You’re right,” Jaxon admitted, chuckling. “I do tend to get…worked up around Carlton.” He pivoted and returned to his chair to finish writing her check.

  “May I ask you something?” she ventured.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Why do you call your grandfather Carlton?”

  “It’s his name, isn’t it?” He finished his signature with a flurry and then pulled the single check from its leather-bound book. “Here you go, m’dear. Ten thousand dollars. Not bad for two days of putting up with my unreasonable, short temper.” There, he got in his jab.

  Just then, Jaxon’s secretary, Janine, buzzed in over the intercom. “Mr. Landon, Richard Myers is here to see you.”

  What in hell could he possibly want? Jaxon rolled his eyes. “Send him in.”

  Kitty reached over and accepted the check. “Thank you.” She folded it several times and then stuffed it in between her huge tits. “It’s been a pleasure. Call me again whenever you’re in need of a fiancée.” She gave him another quick smile and then headed toward the door. “So when will I see you again?”

  “Just when you begin to miss me,” he teased.

  “I’ll miss you as soon as I walk out of the door,” she volleyed back at him.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you at the Velvet Rope tonight,” he said.

  Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that a promise?”

  Jaxon winked. “Absolutely.”

  She turned, opened the door and nearly smacked into Richard Myers.

  “Well, hello there, Kitty,” Richard greeted coolly. “I didn’t know you did house calls.”

  Kitty smiled at Jaxon’s number-one rival—in everything from looks, women and business. The man took competition to a whole new level and didn’t care who knew it. Kitty didn’t mind it so much, since it meant twice the haters and two rich, gorgeous men lavishing her with money and gifts.

  “Really, Richard. You should get your mind out of the gutter,” she teased playfully. “I’ll see you tonight, Jaxon,” she said, tossing him a final wink. The comment was for Richard as well as Jaxon and if her calculations were correct, she would be seeing Richard tonight at the club, too. “G’bye, you two.” She gave them a dainty wave and practically floated out of the office.

  Richard stood at the door and watched Kitty’s rear view until she disappeared from the office lobby. Then he turned his sly smile toward Jaxon. “She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”

  Instead of answering, Jaxon relaxed behind his desk. “So what brings you here, Dick?”

  Richard’s smile only stretched wider as he closed Jaxon’s office door and casually strolled over to the bar. “Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought that I would come by and congratulate you on the Culberson deal. It must have been an awfully reliable bird that told you that they were in talks with Microsoft.”

  Jaxon kept his face neutral while he mentally patted himself on the back for putting the pieces of a very large puzzle together on his own. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say it was just a lucky guess.”

  A smile slithered across Richard’s face while he poured himself some of Jaxon’s good brandy. “Let you tell it, you’re the luckiest sonofbitch in New York.”

  “Maybe I am,” he said, holding his straight face.

  A muscle twitched just below Richard’s right eye. A telltale sign of what the man was really thinking and feeling—which was also the reason Jaxon always beat the man at poker.

  Some things were too easy.

  “You want to know what I think?” Richard asked, taking his glass and making his way over to the empty chair in front of Jaxon’s desk.

  “The better question is, ‘Do I care?’”

  “I think,” Richard went on, “that you have an inside track on what’s going on.”

  Jaxon glared. “That’s one helluva accusation.”

  Richard’s devious smile stretched almost from ear to ear. “Come now. I’m not accusing you of anything…yet.” He sipped his drink. “Then again. It could be just like you said.” He met Jaxon’s stony gaze. “You’re lucky.”

  The room thickened with a deadly tension, but the ever cool Jaxon waited out his adversary.

  “Anyway, congratulations are in order.” Richard drained the rest of his brandy and got back to his feet. “We all can’t make ninety million in a day.” He purposely set his empty glass on Jaxon’s desk and headed back toward the door. “See you around, Jax.”

  “Sure thing, Dick.”

  Richard only chuckled as he made his grand exit.

  Jaxon waited until the door slammed closed before muttering under his breath. “I really hate that asshole.”

  Chapter 2

  “Hell, no,” Zora said, and then proceeded to laugh in Melanie’s face. “What did you do, fall and bump your head?”

  Melanie laughed, as well. “I know it may sound crazy…”

  Zora cocked
a brow. “It may?”

  Melanie tried again. “Okay. It is crazy. But come on. Humor me. I’ve got a feeling about this.”

  “Oh. One of your feelings.” Zora made air quotes and a look that said Melanie had lost her damn mind. “No offense, Mel. But I’m not sure I even get what it is that you do. Rich men pay you to find them women. Isn’t there another word for that? Starts and ends with a P?”

  “You’re not funny,” Melanie said. “Why are you giving me grief about this? It’s not like you’re dating someone.” She frowned. “Are you?”

  “If I said yes, would you drop this ridiculous idea?”

  “Probably after I ran a background check on the guy.”

  Zora laughed as she reached for her wineglass. “That would be funny if it weren’t probably true.”

  “We’ll never know since you never date.”

  Stunned, Zora set her glass back down. “What are you talking about? I date.”

  “Yeah. Every full moon.” Melanie shook her head at such a waste. “And I don’t get it. Everywhere you go men are asking you out, but you never accept.”

  Indignant, Zora sputtered, “That’s not true.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” their waiter interrupted as he returned to their table with a new bottle of wine. He showed Zora the label.

  “What’s that? We didn’t order more wine,” Zora said.

  The waiter smiled. “Yes, ma’am. The bottle is compliments of the gentleman over at the bar.” He popped the cork.

  Melanie’s and Zora’s gazes followed the direction their waiter indicated with the tilt of his head to where a tall, handsome brotha lifted his glass and winked. The women smiled their thanks and then glanced at one another.

  “See?” Melanie said.

  “Whoa. We don’t know if the bottle was for me, you or both of us,” Zora reasoned.

  The waiter cut in. “Mr. Blackburn asked that I also give you this, Ms. Campbell.” He held out the gold-embossed business card. “And to tell you that he enjoys your work.”