âI know you for what you are.â
Arden moved quickly, but not quickly enough. Conor caught hold of her wrist before she could strike him.
âDonât,â he said, very softly. âNot unless youâre prepared to face the consequences.â She stood facing him, her face white, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Her voice trembled when she spoke. âI hate you!â she said.
He laughed. âWhat has that to do with anything?â
Her brain worked desperately for words that would tell him how despicable he was, but before she could think of anything, he cupped the back of her head, drew her toward him and kissed her hard on the mouth.
âI wonât buy you,â he whispered, stroking his thumb over her bottom lip. âIâm a patient man. Iâll wait until you find your way to my bed on your own.â
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CHAPTER ONE
THE night the world came tumbling down around Arden Millerâs ears began just like any other, or, at least, like any other during the five months since sheâd transferred from McCann, Flint, Emersonâs New York office to the firmâs newest branch in Costa Rica.
She put in her usual eight hours as executive secretary to Edgar Lithgow, bid him a polite good evening, then drove her Ford Escortâa perk of her new jobâthe few miles to the hotel in which the company housed its small roster of North American employees.
The clerk at the reception desk greeted her pleasantly.
âBuenas noches, señorita. The cook says to tell you the langosta is especially good tonight.â
Arden smiled. âIâm sure it is, but I think Iâll settle for a chicken sandwich in my room. Would you ask Alejandro to bring it up in an hour or so?â
The clerk smiled. âWith iced coffee, yes?â
âPlease.â
âOf course, Senorita Miller. It will be my pleasure.â
No, Arden thought, no, all of this is my pleasure. I have never been so fussed over, or made to feel so much at home as I have these last months.
But she didnât say that, of course. Such an admission would have been far too personal and out of keeping with her carefully honed professional image. Instead she gave him another smile, scooped up the few messages and letters that had been left for her, and made her way to the lift. She stabbed the button, then turned her attention to the envelopes in her hand.
There was an advertisement from Macyâs, urging her to take advantage of a sale on shoes, and a form letter from a candidate for local office, pleading for her vote in an election that had taken place a month before. Arden smiled. It was amazing, the mail the post office re-routed so it followed you all these thousands of miles.
The third letter was from her mother, and Arden opened it eagerly. Evelyn wrote that she was feeling fine and still happy in her new job as live-in housekeeper to the Carsons, up on the Hill in Greenfield. Did Arden remember them? Ardenâs mouth turned down. Yes, she certainly did. Theyâd had a couple of sons whoâd thought it was their absolute right to sexually initiate girls from the Valley in the back seats of their cars, and if there were any complaints theyâd had the money and the clout to hush them up.
Her gaze dropped to the next paragraph. There was good news about Emma Simms, her mother said. Sheâd just finished a course in beauty school and she was head over heels in love with that nice Evans boy, the one who was working over at Destryâs Plumbing. They planned to get married in February and honeymoon in Disneyworld. And Nan Richards was pregnant with her third baby and working weekends for a caterer so she and her husband could buy a house.
Arden shook her head. Some things never changed, nor did the expectations of some people. She loved her mother dearly, but how Evelyn could be content working as a servant for the rich was beyond her to understand. As for the news about the girls sheâd grown up withâwell, if Emma and Nan were happy, that was wonderful, but for Arden happiness had always meant establishing herself in a career. You had to have goals in life, and the higher, the better.