Intimate Betrayal
Authors: Donna Hill
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up
Intimate Betrayal.
This sexy, suspenseful novel was the first of three of my novels to be made into a TV movie. The lead roles were portrayed by actors Monica Calhoun and Khalil Kain, who brought the characters Reese Delaware and Maxwell Knight to life. The heat between these lovers sizzles from their very first meeting. It's one of the reasons I'm so glad that Harlequin has reissued
Intimate Betrayal,
so that even more readers can enjoy this sexy couple.
If this is your second time reading this novel
or
if it's the first, I hope you love each and every twist and turn, and be sure to keep a glass of cold water nearby!
Happy reading,
Donna
DONNA HILL
To all my wonderful readers who have faithfully
kept me in print for 21 years! You all are awesome.
Donna
New York
M
ethodically, he paced the spacious confines of his posh mid-town Manhattan office, as stealthily as a caged black panther. His movements were smooth, controlled, preciseâas was every aspect of his life.
One large hand was hidden in the pocket of his imported navy blue slacks, the other absently caressing the silken hairs of his ebony mustache.
On the surface, it appeared that Maxwell Knight was simply contemplating another brilliant computer innovation. That was on the surface. Beneath the inscrutable facade, turmoil and a sense of his life spinning out of control built steadily within him, growing in intensity.
His usually smooth, bronze-toned brow was furrowed in a maze of concentration. The last half hour of verbal volleyball with his Board of Directors had his sharply honed six-foot-
three-inch frame coiled with tensionâready to spring at the slightest provocation.
He turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, the expanse of the New York skyline spread out before him. From the ninety-fifth floor, Maxwell usually felt on top of the world, able to conquer anything or anyone. This unprecedented sense of futility over his own destiny filled him with an emotion he could not grasp.
At thirty-three, he had accomplished what many only dreamed ofâread aboutâwished for. The existence of M.K. Enterprisesâhis self-named corporationâand his wizardry with computer programming had catapulted him into the limelight, the one place he had no desire to be. He guarded his privacy with a voracious tenacity. If anyone wanted to know about the M.K. behind M.K. Enterprises, they could read about it in the company's annual report, he felt. There was no reason to interview him. No reason to delve into his lifeâopen doors that were best kept closed. But his development of the computer chip that was touted to revolutionize the speed of computer processing had set off a series of events that were no longer stoppable.
The Board had voted unanimously to take the company public, and he had agreed. But in order to make M.K.'s entry into the stock market an unquestionable success, they had also votedâagainst his wishesâto give the public what they'd craved for more than five years, an in-depth interview with Maxwell Knight, boy wonder.
His firm, smooth jaw clenched as he drew a deep contemplative breath. Something other than notoriety prompted the actions of the Board. They'd never given a damn in the past whether or not the company made headlines. These months prior to their launch into the market were crucial and best kept secret. Now was not the time to have some reporter following him around. If word leaked out, there would be hell
to pay. Turning away from the window, his dark, almond-shaped eyes that curved slightly upward at the tipsâthe single trait that hinted at his mixed heritageâgazed upon the magazine he'd tossed on his desk.
Looking at it now, his misgivings, no matter how irrational, ignited anew. Phillip Hart, the publisher of
Visions Magazine,
had hounded him for months to give them the exclusive rights to an interview. Until today, Maxwell had been able to deny him.
The face of Barack Obama stared back at him from the cover. Yes, it was true that
Visions
had a stellar reputation in the industry. It was also true that it staked that reputation on getting beyond the surface of its subjects. Some of the biggest names in the journalism industry had written for
Visions.
That wasn't the issue for Maxwell. The issue was, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what they might uncover.
Chicago
Reese Delaware was the type of woman who could charm a zebra right out of its stripes. Her powers of persuasion bordered on being lethal in a totally seductive way. She knew it and used her charm, wit and feminine wiles as easily as she breathed. Today was no exception. She was determined to convince the bull-headed editor of
Visions Magazine
that she could handle the interview of a lifetime even if it turned into another two hours of tug-of-war.
Many before her had tried and failed to get an exclusive with Maxwell Knight. Reese had no delusions of being among that group.
“Mr. Hart,” Reese crooned in her distinctly throaty voice, tipped with southern charm. “If I say I can do somethingâI can.” She gave him a long, slow look from startling amber eyes. Inwardly, she smiled as she watched the flush of crimson
rise from his neck and mottle his face. She recrossed her long milk-chocolate legs.
Phillip Hart cleared his throat. He'd bumped heads with hundreds of hungry journalists over the years. He had yet to meet one who could compare with Reese Delaware. There was something that drove her, almost possessed her, to squeeze out every imaginable detail in a story. He'd already made up his mind to give her this assignment, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to see her use her “skills” to convince him.
“How soon can you be ready to leave for New York?” he asked in monotone, struggling to quell his rising libido.
“As soon as I can pack,” she replied with a calm shrug that belied the rush of adrenaline that pumped through her veins.
Phillip leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair and peered at her from beneath puffy eyelids. He pursed his thin pink lips. “You may just be the person to get this job done right, Ms. Delaware.” He threaded his fingers together. “You have sixty days to get this interview completed and on my desk, with pictures and quotes from the man himself and any and everybody who knows him,” he added, pointing a stubby, cigarette-stained finger at her.
Reese felt like leaping out of her seat and throwing her arms around Phillip Hart's fat neck. However, she remained outwardly nonplussed, as if the whole discussion couldn't have gone any differently.
“You'll have your story, Mr. Hart,” she said, that slow smile easing across her mouth. “And it'll be the best piece of work you've ever read.”
M
axwell sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, his heavily lashed eyes almost closed as he spoke to his secretary, Carmen Valez.
“Have the office managers in the Los Angeles office and in Tokyo be prepared for our arrival,” he instructed in his characteristically soft-spoken modulation.
His heavy baritone tended to sound threatening even in the most innocent of circumstances, Carmen recalled, thinking back to the early years of working with Maxwell. Over the years, he'd trained himself to speak in calm, measured tones, in a pitch so sensual and alluring that his voice seemed to compel the listener to draw closer and do his bidding. It bordered on hypnotic. But just as it could be a soothing balm, it could be as crushing as the blows he'd mastered as a ninth-degree black belt. Carmen was always grateful that his wrath had never been directed at her.
She'd been with Maxwell since he opened the doors of
M.K. Enterprises, five years earlier. They'd worked side by side every day for those five years, and sometimes she felt she knew him no better today than she did when she walked in the door. Whatever Maxwell thought or felt about anything that wasn't job related, he kept to himself. It was rare that he allowed the man inside to show through. She felt privileged to have been the recipient of his inner thoughts on those rare occasions. That didn't make him unpleasant to work with. On the contrary, he was probably one of the most charming and certainly the most gorgeous man she'd ever worked for. But he never let anyone get beyond the invisible wall he'd erected around himself. She felt sorry for the poor soul assigned to write the article about the enigmatic Maxwell Knight.
“When should I expect the reporter, Maxwell?”
For a fraction of a second, a shadow seemed to pass across his exotic bronzed features. “The Board received a fax this morning stating that a Reese Delaware would be arriving this afternoon,” he replied in a turned-off tone.
“Should I make flight arrangements for Mr. Delaware as well, since you'll be traveling together?”
“I'm sure Mr. Delaware can make his own arrangements. But should he need some assistance, see what you can do.”
“No problem.” She gazed at him and his eyes met hers. “It's going to be fine,” she said softly. “Don't worry so much.”
He waved off her well-meant sentiment. “You know how I feel about this whole business, Carmen. This reporter is going to be a royal pain in the ass, and I'm the one stuck with having to squire him around.” He clenched his jaw in frustration. “Reporters have been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember. I prefer to stay as far away from those vultures as possible.”
Carmen pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “At least try to be pleasant.”
Maxwell grumbled something unintelligible deep in his throat.
“Anything else?”
“If you would just check and make sure that the house in San Diego is taken care of and fully stocked, I'd appreciate that. And make whatever accommodations are necessary for the trip to Tokyo.”
“I'll take care of it right away, and then I'm off to lunch.” Carmen rose to leave.
Slowly Maxwell lowered his hands and placed them on the table, the first time he'd moved since Carmen entered the room. He smiled. “Thank you, Carmen. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“Neither do I,” she teased, closing the door gently behind her.
Pushing away from the desk, Maxwell stood. What was he so concerned about? he chastised himself. The reporter was interested in how a seemingly ordinary kid from Maryland had become the leading computer expert in the world, beating out the Microsoft giant by mere months in the development of the ultra-fast processing chip. He was the first black to reach the heights that he'd achieved in the industry. As a result, he continued to be a prime target for newshounds who wanted the “inside story.” What made Maxwell Knight tick?
He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that there wasn't much he could do about the situation. However, he would not allow access to his private life. He would control the direction of the interview.
He recrossed the highly polished wood floors and around the partition to where his drafting table rested. Slipping out of his taupe jacket, he hung it on the back of the chair and sat down, rolling up one sleeve and then the other. He slid the magnifying lens over the grids on the paper and began
to work. Within moments he was immersed in what he loved best, developing computer chip circuits.
Â
The persistent buzzing on his intercom finally jarred him away from his work. Frowning, he checked his watch. “Damn.” He'd been sitting at his desk for three hours straight. In one smooth motion, he hopped down from the stool and reached for the phone that hung on the wall behind him.
“Yes, Carmen.”
“Ah, the reporter from
Visions Magazine
is here.” Carmen looked across to where Reese Delaware sat.
Maxwell clenched his jaw and drew a deep breath. “Send him in,” he bit out, snatching his finger away from the intercom button.
“But it's not a⦔ Carmen's response was lost on him. She turned toward Reese, her smile wavering as she shrugged in apology. “He's really quite nice,” she offered.
Reese picked up her heavy briefcase and crossed the space that separated her from Carmen. She stood in front of Carmen's desk. Reese's right eyebrow rose speculatively. “He thinks I'm a man,” she stated more than asked, just the barest hint of amusement lacing her husky voice.
Carmen looked up at the striking woman, a tone of conspiracy in her response, “It appears so.”
Reese's mouth curved into a grin. “May I go inside now?”
“Of course.” Carmen stood up. “Follow me, Ms. Delaware. Mr. Knight's office is right down this corridor. I'm Carmen Valez, executive assistant in charge of East Coast operations and Mr. Knight's personal assistant. My desk is back there also, I'm just covering for lunch.” They proceeded down the hall until they reached twin glass doors. Carmen placed her palm on the scanner and the doors slid open. Reese's eyes
widened in awe. She'd only seen that done on television and in the movies.
She dutifully followed Carmen down the acoustically sound-treated, semi-hushed hall. Futuristic offices and security cubicles to the left and right were closed off from the hallway traffic by huge Plexiglas panels. Behind these smoke-tinted panels, high-tech equipment, most of which she couldn't even give a name to, occupied much of the space, expelling information to white-coated technicians and to others who looked no different from the video-game junkies who haunted the arcades.
What a group of nerds, she mused. She wondered if the mysterious Maxwell Knight was half as uninteresting.
Carmen stopped at the security panel and repeated the previous process. Upon entering the next corridor they turned left and Reese was instantly aware of the change in decor. There were no more glass walls. Heavy wood doors with gold-plated name tags had taken their place. Here was the suite of executive offices that ran M.K. Enterprises. “We call this the Black Forest because of all this oak,” jibed Carmen.
She slowed, then stopped in front of an intricately carved door. She tapped once and turned the knob. Stepping aside she opened the door for Reese to enter.
Maxwell wasn't rude by nature, but this whole interview business had put him in a foul mood. He hadn't put on his jacket and didn't even bother to look up from his drafting table when the door opened.
“Have a seat, I'll be with you in a minute,” he said with all the civility he could summon.
Reese's eyes swept across the room to locate the southern preacher's voice that seemed to emanate from the depths of a gospel standard.
Maxwell's heightened senses, ever alert, caught the subtle, yet potent whiff of her African Musk body oil before she'd
stepped completely across the threshold. Every muscle in his body tensed, as if sensing imminent danger.
He came from around the dividing wall and their worlds collided. Reese Delaware was not a man by any means. The reality slammed against his invisible wall, causing tiny fissures in the structure.
Reese stepped farther into the room, noting the infinitesimal look of surprise that widened the irises of his unusual eyes.
This was no nerd.
She used her warm, slow smile as a beacon, allowing it to cut a path directly to his outstretched hand.
“Reese Delaware,” she announced in a tone that seemed to stroke the tightened muscles of his body.
Husky, throaty, smoky, sultry.
Her voice was all that and more. No. This definitely would not work.
“Ms. Delaware,” he responded, his body virtually vibrating from the pressure of her slender hand in his. She was the first to pull away.
“I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing.” He paused to gauge her reaction, and much to his chagrin he saw nothing.
She shot him a steady look from behind luminous amber eyes that seemed to whisper, “come to me.”
He cleared his throat, his own hot stare meeting hers. “I'm sure that everything there is to know about my company can be gleaned from our annual reports.”
Reese placed her briefcase at her feet, looked up at him from beneath heavy black lashes, then took a seat opposite his desk. With a deliberance that bordered on an “X” rating, she crossed her long legs. Her short, canary yellow skirt barely hit her mid-thigh. Max tore his gaze away.
“Let's get right to the point,” she began, her low voice threading its way through his bloodstream. “You don't want me here. You know it and I know it. I don't have a problem with that, because I have a job to do, one which I take just
as seriously as I'm sure you take yours. I intend to get my job done,' she added, emphasizing each word with an almost musical cadence. “Soâ” she exhaled a long breath “âwe can do this the easy way or we can do it the ugly way.” She flashed him a brilliant “Colgate” smile.
Damnit, he liked her. When was the last time that anyone, least of all a woman, told him just where to get off? However, these shaky emotions could be his undoingâand that couldn't happen.
Think with the head on top of your neck, buddy,
he warned himself.
“And not to belabor the subject,” she continued, “but I'm not the least bit interested in your company, Mr. Knight.” She paused for effect. “I'm interested in
you.
”
Maxwell gave her a long, hard look. “Humph,” he chuckled. “You seem pretty sure of yourself, Ms. Delaware.”
“Call me Reese, since we'll be working so closely together. And yes, I am very sure of myself. I have to be in this businessâ
Max.
” She saw the nerve jump beneath his right eye and mentally ticked off a point for herself. She couldn't afford to let her guard down for a minute. If he got the slightest inclination that he could railroad her, or intimidate her, this whole trip would be for nothing, just as he'd said. She had no intention of returning the ten-thousand-dollar advance. The money had been a lifesaver. Had it not been for the windfall, she'd probably be looking for someplace else to live. At least her apartment was secure for the time being. If only the other holes in her life could be filled as easily.
Maxwell turned away from her, took a seat behind his desk and proceeded to review the stack of documents in front of him. He didn't bother to look up when he next spoke. “I hope,
Reese,
that you're as talented at making yourself invisible as you claim you are at your job.” He signed a document, put it to the side and continued, “I don't want to be hovered over,
interrupted when I'm designing, or followed to the men's room.”
She bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.
Suddenly he looked up, and she was assaulted once again by the allure of his eyes. She swallowed, cocked a brow and met his gaze head on.
“I was informed,” he continued in that voice that could make a good girl do wicked things, “by the Board that you'd be with me for the next two months.”
“I have that long to complete my story and hand it in,” she corrected. “I'm sure I'll finish before then so that we can get out of each other's way as soon as possible.”
The tiny corner of his mouth lifted, indicating the bare beginnings of a smile. “I hope you have your passport in order. After leaving the Los Angeles offices, I'll be heading to Tokyo.”
“I'm aware of that. I was given your itinerary. Actually, I'm looking forward to the next six weeks.” She smiled that slow, burning smile again and he felt his insides begin to smolder.
Maxwell stood and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, partly in dismissal, but mostly because he didn't know how his body would react if he touched her again.
Her eyes challenged his. She straightened her shoulders. “What time do you come in?”
Even a simple question sounded suggestive coming out of that mouth of hers, Maxwell thought, annoyed.
“I'm in the office by eight.”
“Then I guess that's when we'll see each other again.” She bent to retrieve her briefcase. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you Max. I'm sure we'll get along just fine.”
“Take the elevator directly to your right,” Maxwell
instructed, ignoring the pseudo-friendly overture. “Security on board will see you out.”
Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the office, her hips swaying to a slow, erotic beat that only she could hear.
Â
Alone now in his office, Maxwell could hear the rapid beating of his heart, feel the throb that pulsed between his muscular thighs, smell the scent of her that had settled over him like morning dew. This isn't going to work, he realized, and the sooner that was understood the better. Maxwell strode across the room, slung his hand into his pants pockets and stood in front of the window. He'd find out how much her advance was and write a check to whomever. The quicker Reese Delaware was out of his way and his life, the better for everyone.