Reaching a door, he felt for the knob and pushed it open. “Good, because I’d hate to get slapped with a sexual harassment suit from my new PA on top of everything else.”
Once again, guilt reared its ugly head and she tamped it down. “Not going to happen.” She allowed her voice to warm with suggestion as she trailed him into his study. “I was quite captivated watching you and your girlfriend.”
He gave a quiet, good- natured laugh as he eased around his desk to lower himself into his chair. “Tamara is one of my favorite models, not a girlfriend. My subjects know I love to play, and sometimes they’re willing to indulge. No strings, no harm.”
“Models? If I can ask without sounding rude, how do you
see
your models in order to paint?”
He appeared amused. “How did Ray Charles
see
to create beautiful music on his piano? With his hands and his soul.”
Of course. She’d observed him “looking” at Tamara by using his hands. But the idea of St. Laurent possessing a soul capable of creating beauty disturbed her. A great deal.
“Well, my question seems foolish in light of your answer.” She settled into a chair across from his desk, blinking at his openness. So unorthodox, unlike anyone she’d ever met. “Back to the point—does your circle of bedmates ever extend outside your stable of models? Just so I’ll know what visitors to expect.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you know who to allow inside, whatever their business. As for lovers, I take those who arouse and intrigue me, Miss Vale,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “Whenever I’m lucky enough to find them, in every type of social setting. I don’t have a line formed at the front door, but I won’t shy from doing what pleases me. I’ve found life is much too short, so I live it like there’s no tomorrow.”
A truer statement was never made.
Staring at this vibrant, enigmatic man, her throat closed to the size of a pinhole. “Then you’re light-years ahead of most people, Mr. St. Laurent. It’s a policy many adopt much too late.”
He sat back in his chair, falling silent for a moment. Eerie how he appeared to be studying her with those beautiful, sightless eyes. He’d been a goddamned good agent, one of the best. If he was faking the blindness, not to mention the gaping blanks in his memory, she was in deep shit.
Because that would mean he’d made her from a thousand miles away, and he knew why she was really here.
She’d played this game many times, but never with her equal. Never with one of Ross’s deadliest assassins.
“Why do you want to work for me, Miss Vale?”
The question threw her, though she’d prepared for it. Had seasoned her answer with half-truths. Mentally, she fumbled the punt, but was careful to keep her expression placid. Just in case he
was
acting, or could see more than he let on. Besides, any deviation from normalcy would reflect in her voice and mannerisms.
“Besides the fact that you’re delicious naked?”
This gained her a brilliant smile, breaking the serious tension that had been about to descend. “Thank you, and yes. Aside from your flattering observation, what else?”
“I need a change of pace. Working as an assistant to the governor of California, nice as he may be, was the most stressful job I’ve ever done,” she said. This much was the truth, though she’d been on an undercover assignment to assist the governor at the time. Since she’d foiled an assassination plot on his life, he’d graciously agreed to back her reference, no questions asked.
“I can imagine.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “The governor returned my inquiry in person. He tells me you were invaluable.”
“I’m not afraid of long hours, and I don’t intimidate easily. I’m no pushover, but I do get along well with others. If that’s the sort of PA you’re looking for, I’m ready.”
“People don’t just
leave
a lofty position in the governor’s mansion,” he mused. Obviously, this troubled him.
A sticking point she’d anticipated. Fortunately, the governor had agreed to allow her this small tidbit for the sake of her new cover. “All right, I’ll admit there’s more to my vacating the position than simply abandoning the frantic pace.” She paused for emphasis. “What I have to tell you cannot leave this room.”
“Goes without saying.”
“Recently, there was an attempt on the governor’s life. The authorities kept it very hush- hush and the men involved were taken into custody.” And dispatched. “The whole thing was frightening.”
St. Laurent frowned. “I’ll bet it was. I’m sorry to hear this, but I’m glad the criminals were caught. So, this is why you’re seeking greener pastures?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t think less of me for wanting to work in a safer environment,” she said, letting a tiny tremble into her voice. Even the strongest of normal women would have been afraid.
“Everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their job,” he assured her. “While I can’t promise the excitement of politics, I don’t believe you’ll be bored living here, working for me.”
“Does this mean I have the position?”
He grinned. “It’s yours if you want it.”
She smiled back, even if he couldn’t see. “I accept. And please, call me Lily.”
“Jude,” he returned in kind. “
Mr. St. Laurent
is a mouthful and makes me feel ancient.”
“Which you certainly are not.” She eyed him in appreciation. “You’re, what? Thirty-five?” She knew the answer from his file, but wanted to hear it from him.
“Close. Thirty-seven. Feels double that sometimes, especially these days.”
“Because of your accident?” She studied his reaction carefully.
“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Car crash, or so they tell me. I sustained a head injury and lost my sight as a result. You should know I have headaches, at times so bad they lay me out for an entire day. I have medication, but the pain can get so intense I might need you to get it for me and help me take it. Liam lives on the estate as well, so you can work out taking turns with him if you want. It’s not fun for anyone. I have nightmares, too, though not as frequent as the headaches, so I’ll apologize in advance for waking you.”
For a few seconds, he looked so sad her heart went out to him.
“No need for apologies,” she said softly. “You have no control over what’s happening to you.”
A knock at the door interrupted their talk. Lily turned in her seat to see a man stride into the office. He appeared a few years younger than Jude and moved with a confidence that belied his youthful appearance. He was of medium build, lean, and had a small, tight ass, a very
fine
ass, to go with the rest of him. He parked his rear on the corner of Jude’s desk and glanced between them. His black hair was cut shorter in the back and longer in the front, falling attractively over gray eyes.
“Hi, I’m Liam O’Neil,” he said, his tone friendly as he reached for her hand. Curious. “Jude told me to give you guys a few minutes, then come and introduce myself.”
“Lily Vale.” She shook it and liked his grip. Firm, warm. “I’m Jude’s new PA. I assume you’re the chef, since he was bragging about you making something fabulous for dinner.”
He took his hand back and smiled, pleased by the compliment. “That’s me. I make sure his appetite is satisfied, and believe me, it’s huge.”
Immediately, his face reddened, and he shot Jude a pained look. Oh, Liam was too cute. Lily couldn’t help but tease him.
“Really? Just how voracious is his hunger, Liam? Or is it ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ around here?”
Liam launched himself off the desk. “Um, I’d better get to work. Any special requests for tonight, Jude?”
His boss’s lips quirked with humor. “Whatever you want to make is fine. Just prepare enough for Lily from now on. Oh, and tonight, I’m having a guest, so you can bring the cart to my suite.”
“Sure thing. See you later, Lily.” With that, Liam fled.
The door shut behind the young chef and Jude grinned, propping his chin in one hand. “Oh, you’re evil, Lily dear. I do believe we’ll get along just fine.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re right. I’m going to like it here.”
And for the first time ever, Lily hated her job with a passion. For once, she longed to be one of the general population, able to forget the sacrifices that must be made in the name of national security. That the innocent must be protected at any cost.
That the gorgeous ray of sunshine sitting across from her was a very real threat to said security . . . even if he no longer remembered his own treachery.
She couldn’t fall for this man. Had to hold on to her reason for being here. To do what she did best.
Locate the information. Assess and neutralize the threat. And eliminate the source.
Two
S
itting across from Lily, Jude stared at her shadowy form and mourned the loss of his sight, as he did every waking moment. He wasn’t quite so casual and accepting of his situation as he’d led her to believe. Not by a long shot.
The pain never ceased. Relentless, the agony and the confusing images battered him physically and emotionally until he wanted to scream. Most days, he wished he’d been born a different man, one who wouldn’t hesitate to down every last one of the pretty capsules his doctor had prescribed for the migraines and just drift away. Separate himself from the mockery his life had become.
What was my life before?
Gallery showings, plentiful sex, one endless party after another filled with beautiful people, the world his for the taking?
Yes, sometimes. But those good memories had yawning, ragged holes in them. In those dark recesses, something terrible lurked.
And he was too fucking stubborn to give up without learning what.
Score one for Liam for encouraging Jude to hire an assistant. The younger man, who’d become his best friend over the past few years, had been after him for weeks to take on some extra help, someone to oversee the details of his day- to-day existence. Maintain his schedule, run errands, coordinate the business end of his showings, serve as his escort at various society functions.
Then, once she proved herself trustworthy, perhaps he’d take her into his confidence. Enlist her aid in his search for answers.
“Jude?”
Lily’s soft smoke-and-whiskey voice jerked him from his musings, sent tiny little fingers down his spine. In a pleasant way.
“I’m sorry. Where were we?”
“I said I’m going to like it here.” Her tone held a trace of amusement.
“Right.” He smiled, hoping his expression didn’t look as tight as it felt. The dull pressure in his head usually signaled the onset of a side trip into hell, and he prayed for a break this once. “Wait until you see how hard I’m going to crack the whip before you decide.”
“Whips? Ooh, now I’m convinced this is where I belong.” He laughed. Damn, he wanted to see her.
Really
see her, without relying on his hands or Liam’s description. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the grounds while we discuss your duties?”
“Good idea.”
He rose and grappled for his cane, wishing he were the man he used to be. That he were whole and trouble free instead of feeling as though he were teetering on the edge of a cliff with someone’s hand at his back.
Knock it off, St. Laurent. Self-pity and paranoia will make you an old, bitter man before your time.
He led Lily out of his study, aware of her at his side. Pushing away his unpleasant thoughts, he focused on her light scent, the dainty click of her heels on the tile, her light step. A small woman, then? Was she as attractive as her smoky voice?
Dammit, he hated not knowing for sure. Again, he squashed the useless anger and frustration, forced himself to concentrate on familiarizing her with their routine. On getting to know each other. Moving through the foyer past the staircase, he turned left, stopping when his shoes touched carpet.
“This is the formal living area, though not much living goes on in here, except for the occasional party. I’ve always found it to be on the stuffy side, like I’m a guest in my own home.”
“But it’s gorgeous,” Lily protested. “All those windows letting in the sunshine, antique furnishings, and that big wet bar! What’s not to love?”
“It’s okay, but Liam and I prefer to hang out in the media room upstairs. It’s more comfortable and has dozens of amenities.”
“I’m guessing a wide screen and surround sound are among those?”
“And a fridge full of beer.” He grinned, smothering another pang of loss. That room in particular was stuffed with gadgets he could no longer fully enjoy. “You’ll see. Anyway, the formal dining is through here, then the kitchen. Shall we?”
This part was trickier, navigating around the furniture. Not to mention the vertigo that still assaulted his senses on occasion. But the contrast in his vision between light and dark helped him discern the shapes, and he made it without mishap, running his free hand along the back of the sofa for a point of reference and bringing them into the dining room without falling on his face. God knew he savored each small victory, because he had no other alternative.
“I take it you don’t use this room much, either,” she noted. “It looks like it was cut straight out of a home magazine and the table doesn’t have a single scratch.”
“You’re right. I take most of my meals in my studio or the media room, and the rest of the time I simply eat in the kitchen with Liam. There’s something too depressing about eating alone at a table that can seat twenty.”
“You have a point there,” she said softly, with a tinge of sympathy.
What the hell had made him say that? The last thing he wanted was Lily, or anyone, feeling sorry for him. “Not that it matters since I can’t see the damned room anyhow. Let’s go bug Liam.”
He continued walking, aware he’d been abrupt and not proud of the fact. His charm deserted him more often these days, his moods less predictable and more difficult to control. Granted, he had a good reason, but that didn’t assuage his confusion and dismay. His sense of self had taken a beating and the loss of his sight was only a modest part of that.