Dark Reunion

Zack blinked. “Okay.”

As she’d hoped, his innate gentlemanliness kicked in and he automatically got to his feet. And then he kissed her.

One moment he was looking down at her with that odd, quirky smile, and the next his lips were on hers. The current that had flowed between them was reestablished just that quickly, and the sound she made that she’d meant to be a protest instead came out like a moan of pleasure.

Reeve had always found him attractive. And perhaps she’d had to spend some time convincing herself back then that giving in to the attraction didn’t necessarily have to follow. The fact that he was a man in crisis had made it easy to stay on the proper side of that line.

But now in this moment, with his mouth doing insane things to her nerves, she had no idea where that line was.

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lives on Puget Sound in Washington. Her interests outside writing are sailing, doing needlework, horseback riding and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.

Justine says that years ago, during her career in law enforcement, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was at the time occupied only by men. “I succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job, and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying he’d never forgotten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?”

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

First one hired, first one fired.

Leave it to her to get that twisted, Reeve Fox thought as she made the turn off the coast highway onto the road leading to the marina. It was supposed to be last one hired, first one fired. Or laid off. Told to resign.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

She knew she’d hit bottom when she slipped into useless ponderings like the twisting of clichés. A beautiful, sunny day in Southern California, with people coming great distances to soak up the warmth and enjoy the sand and surf, and here she was, reduced to talking to herself.

Of course, it did help to take her mind off where she was going. For an instant, anyway.

Any of those visitors to the golden shores of this paradise—well, paradise as long as you didn’t have to drive in the traffic or plow through the crowds—would no doubt be delighted to have her destination. A summer’s day visit aboard a brand-new, luxurious corporate yacht was a treat that few would turn down.

And an afternoon with world-famous international entrepreneur and self-made multi-billionaire Josh Redstone would be a hot ticket for anyone, from those wanting to learn how he’d done it to those simply wishing some of it would rub off on them. Or perhaps hoping he’d part with some of that wealth for their cause, a hope well-founded in Josh’s lengthy history of doing just that if you could convince him or move him.

But she was dreading this afternoon. Dreading it because she loved and admired the soft-spoken, gray-eyed man who’d built a dream into an empire and managed to keep it alive and well and prosperous and as tightly knit as a loving family.

Dreading it because Josh was her boss, and she knew he was about to tell her this had to end. Josh was kind and generous and loyal, but he didn’t get to where he was by being a pushover. And if he felt he had to, he’d fire her.

She hated the sound of that. Fired from Redstone. Terminated sounded just as bad. It was very rare that anyone was fired from Redstone. Left by mutual agreement, maybe, but fired? No. Josh’s instincts—and his security’s background checks—were too thorough. They’d had some bad apples turn up in the past year or so, but they were the very rare exception.