He couldnât let his guard down and think of her as a woman.
He had an investigation to run and involvement with Lucy Royall would compromise his objectivity. Compromise him. He was ethically bound to keep emotional distance between them.
âHayden?â she asked breathlessly.
He gripped the steering wheel until his fingers hurt, trying to anchor himself to something. âYes?â
âWere you about to kiss me?â
His heart stuttered to a stop. He should have known Lucy wasnât the type of woman to let things lie, to choose the sensible path. âThere was a moment, before I thought better of it,â he admitted.
âI wish you had.â
RACHEL BAILEY developed a serious book addiction at a young age (via Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddleduck) and has never recovered. Just how she likes it. She went on to earn degrees in psychology and social work, but is now living her dreamâwriting romance for a living.
She lives on a piece of paradise on Australiaâs Sunshine Coast with her hero and four dogs, where she loves to sit with a dog or two, overlooking the trees and reading books from her evergrowing to-be-read pile.
Rachel would love to hear from you and can be contacted through her website, www.rachelbailey.com.
Thanks to Barbara DeLeo and Sharon Archer
for reading early drafts of this book and your insightful comments. And to Bron and Heather for the cheer squad.
Thanks to the other authors in the Daughters of Power
continuityâitâs been a pleasure working with you. And to Charles Griemsman, the editor for the seriesâ as always, your guidance was invaluable.
Hayden Black flicked through the documents and photos scattered across his D.C. hotel suite desk until he found the one he needed. Hauntingly beautiful hazel eyes; shoulder-length blond hair that shone as if polished; designer-red lips. Lucy Royall. The key to his investigation for Congress that would bring down her stepfather, Graham Boyle.
After his preliminary research from his New York base, heâd decided the twenty-two-year-old heiress whoâd been handed life on a silver platter was the weak link heâd target to gather all the information on Graham Boyleâs criminal activities. His first appointment this morning had been to get a colleagueâs take on Ms. Royall so he would be prepped when he met her.
He flicked the photo to the side and picked up anotherâthis one her publicity shot from Boyleâs news network, American News Service, where Lucy worked as a junior reporter. Even with the professional tone and her eyes heavily made up with expertly applied gray smudges and mascara, she looked far too young, too innocent, to be mixed up in the dirty business of ANS illegally hacking into the phones of the presidentâs friends and family. But looks could be deceiving, especially when it came to pampered princesses. No one knew that better than he did.
Lucy Royall had been billionaire Graham Boyleâs stepdaughter since she was twelve, and her own deceased father had left her a vast fortune. She hadnât been born with a plain old silver spoon in her mouthâhers had been pure platinum and diamond-encrusted.
He dropped the photo and picked up one of another blonde journalistâANS senior reporter Angelica Pierce. Only ten minutes ago heâd completed an interview with Ms. Pierce, so he could vouch for both the perfectly white, straight teeth in her plastic broadcast news journalist smile and her aqua eyes. There was something strange about that shade of blueâit looked more like colored contacts than natural. But she spent half her life in front of a TV camera. Angelica Pierce wouldnât be alone in the industry if she was trying to make the most of what she had to look good for the viewers.
Angelica had been eager to help, saying the phone hacking scandal tainted all journalists. And sheâd been especially eager to help on the subject of Lucy Royall. Apparently, when Lucy had graduated from college, Boyle had handed her the job of junior reporter over many more qualified applicants, and now, according to Angelica, Lucy could be found âswanning around the office like sheâs on a movie set, refusing assignments she doesnât like and expecting privileges.â
Hayden glanced back at Lucyâs photo, with her silk shirt and modest diamond earringsâall tastefully understated yet subtly conveying wealth and class. He could believe she had a sense of entitlement.
But during the interview, Angelica had done something particularly interesting. Sheâd lied to him about Lucy threatening her. The signs in her body language had been almost imperceptible, but heâd interviewed countless people over the years and was used to picking up what other people missed.
Of course, there were reasons she might lieâa star reporter watching a young, pretty journalist who happened to be related to the networkâs owner coming up through the ranks would be nervous. People lied for less every day.