Beneath the laughter and whirl of conversation, the faint chime of a clock striking twelve echoed through the marbled halls. The muscles in Rachel’s back twisted with strain, but she ignored the ache, remaining poised as she finished Mrs Phillips’ reading. It would be at least another two hours before Rachel could leave the Donaldsons’ party. Two tedious hours of forcing serene smiles when all she wanted to do was escape to her own home where she could close off the unsettling vibrations dragging her down.She blinked her dry, stinging eyes against the thick cloud of cigarette smoke hovering above the sea of perfectly coiffed heads. The scents of cigars, perfume and food battled to dominate the air. She tried to focus on the cards, but they repeatedly made a mockery of her ability to interpret them. Little of what she dealt made sense, and what she did understand was too severe for her to relate without upsetting her customers.As she nodded her goodbye to Mrs Phillips, Rachel reminde

‘Rachel?’ he asked from directly behind her.‘Yes, Mr Dermont?’‘Jackson.’She ignored his correction.‘Do I make you nervous?’She threw what she hoped was an exasperated look over her shoulder. Instead of lying again, shepoured her attention on to the sparkling glass, rubbing so hard that the entire case vibrated. ‘Did you come here to buy something, or simply to distract me from my work?’‘Hmmm.’Feeling his eyes roam down her back, she polished harder until her shoulder muscles began to bunch.‘Now that you mention it, my sister’s birthday is in a couple of weeks.’Thankful for the shift in subject-matter, Rachel faced him and cleared her throat. ‘What is she like?’He tucked a loose strand of Rachel’s hair behind her ear. The act had been so casually accomplished, as if he’d touched her hair a hundred times before, that she couldn’t move. ‘Like a sister.’She swallowed, hard. ‘Is she conservative or flashy?’He lifted a brow in thought. ‘Somewhere in the middle.’‘Does she like

'You have the look of a hungry man.’Tensing at the sound of the familiar voice, Jack-son tilted his head around. ‘Sandra, what a . . . surprise.’‘Is it, darling?’ she purred. Though the barbecue was supposed to be a casual affair, Sandra managed to smell like money in her designer jeans, ostrich boots and plum-colored silk shirt. But then, she’d always been the type to wear a Chanel suit to the grocery store, though he doubted she did anything so menial these days.‘I’d say the surprise is seeing you here.’ She rubbed the backs of her pearl-tipped nails against her collarbone. ‘I’ve heard about the trouble you’ve been having. Evidently no one’s safe any more, regardless of how much we spend on gadgets to keep the undesirables out. Just this morning, Edmond and I were discussing changing our security company. Perhaps you could work for us.’Jackson refused to let her bait him into a retort, because he honestly didn’t care what the woman said. It amazed him that he’d thought himself o

Of everything Sandra had taken from him, he hated her most for stealing his ability to trust. He’d thought himself incapable of caring about anyone ever again. He certainly never thought he’d feel the slightest glimmer of . . . He stopped himself, not wanting to name the deep churning inside his chest.Rachel had been right when she’d said kissing her wouldn’t be simple. It was damn complicated. For the first time since Sandra, he wanted more than a few hours of gratuitous sex. He wanted the impossible - he wanted to know Rachel every way possible, which meant allowing her to become a part of his life.Expelling a breath, he pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids. He’d wanted to throttle Rachel’s mother for interrupting them. On hindsight, he knew her arrival had been a blessing.Rachel might not have called a halt to their kiss, and he’d been so driven he wouldn’t have stopped until he’d made love to her. And that was a dilemma he didn’t need.Pushing thoughts of Rachel aside, he

‘I’ve screwed things up, Derrick.’ Jackson slipped his hands into the pockets of his Alfani slacks and faced his sales manager.‘God, Jackson, and here I thought you walked on water.’ Uncrossing his feet and taking them off the desktop, Derrick sat forward with his elbows braced on his thighs. ‘So spill. What’s going on with the investigation?’Rubbing his palm over the back of his neck, Jackson circled the confines of his office. ‘Remember that necklace I bought from Rachel Gold?’‘Yeah, brilliant move.’ Derrick shook his head without disturbing a single strand of precision-combed brown hair. ‘But don’t sweat it. I think I’ve found a buyer.’‘Don’t bother.’ Jackson selected a photo from the creased manila folder lying on his cluttered desk. Leaving Rachel that morning, her pleading gaze stabbing him in the back, he’d crushed the file in his hand to keep from going to her. The temptation to hold her, then strangle her had been overwhelming. Handing the picture to his manager, he said,