Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

      She shut her eyes and a Technicolor image of Michael bloomed behind her lids.

      “So now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, was that the only reason for your call today?”

      Mia cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind, but it was pointless.

      “Yes. Why else would I call? I mean, it was very generous of you and I wanted to thank you.”

      “I think you know that I’ve always wanted the best for...my clients and myself. And that’s what you are.”

      Why couldn’t she get her brain to work and her lips to move? She felt like an idiot. Concentrate.

      “I took a look at some of the projects that you’re working on,” she finally said, taking the first step into the land of no return. “And I was wondering if you’d contracted with anyone for the upcoming red-carpet event for Raven, the new R & B artist.”

      “I have two outfits that I’m considering, but if you wanted to handle it, I can call them off right now.”

      She laughed nervously. “Just like that?”

      “Why not? You are the best at what you do?”

      She drew in a breath.

      “Why don’t we meet and talk about it?”

      This was going better than she’d hoped. “Sure, I can come to your office.” She needed to get access in order to plant some listening devices and perhaps a small camera.

      “I thought we could discuss it over drinks. I can have a car pick you up at your office about six.”

      “Six? Tonight?”

      “No time like the present. You do want the assignment, don’t you?”

      “I don’t even have a proposal prepared.”

      “We can discuss it when we see each other. Six o’clock. A black Lincoln will be out front. I’ve got to go. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll see you later.” He disconnected the call before she could come up with a reason not to.

      Slowly, she returned the handset to its cradle. Six o’clock. Absently she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Four hours. She had four hours to prepare to see the man her heart would not let her forget.

      There would never be enough time.

      Chapter 5

      Mia walked to the front of the office. Ashley was just hanging up from a call. She looked at Mia curiously.

      “You okay? You look...shaken.”

      Mia pressed her lips tightly together, as if the action could somehow hold back the words she needed to say. She pulled up a chair next to Ashley’s desk and slowly sat down.

      “Remember the other day I asked you if an old flame had ever come back into your life?”

      “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word into two syllables.

      Mia glanced away. “Well, my old love asked me out for drinks.”

      Ashley’s finely arched brows rose. “Oh. Okay. Was this your idea or his?”

      “His!” she said much too quickly. The guilt already getting to her.

      “Why don’t you start at the beginning? Maybe that would help.”

      The beginning. Yes, she could do that. Perhaps it was time.

      Mia looked directly at Ashley. “I’ve never told this to anyone. No one. Not even Savannah and Danielle,” she said with a new pang of guilt for having kept her two best friends in the dark for so long. She drew in a long breath and as she released it, the illicit love affair spilled out on a rough tide of emotion.

      Nearly an hour later, Mia blinked back the past and her gaze rested on Ashley, waiting for condemnation, a look of reprimand. Instead, she saw tears welling up in Ashley’s eyes.

      Ashley sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her almond-shape eyes with the tip of her index finger. “Wow,” she sputtered. “A true-life, tragic love story.” She folded her hands together. “And now he’s single?”

      Mia bobbed her head.

      Ashley pressed her hands flat on the desktop and leaned forward. “Do you love Steven?”

      * * *

      The question taunted her, tugged at her heart.

      Of course she loved Steven, she told herself again as the black Lincoln navigated in and out of midtown Manhattan rush-hour traffic.

      That’s what she said to Ashley, who told her simply, “Keep that at the forefront of your thoughts and then when you see Michael everything will fall into place.”

      Mia certainly hoped so.

      * * *

      The driver gave her no indication where they were going. He’d only told her that Mr. Burke had arranged for dinner.

      Dinner! That wasn’t the agreement, she’d worried. Drinks were impersonal. Dinner was intimate. It raised this meeting to another level.

      When she next looked out the window, she realized that they were leaving the city. She grabbed her glasses from her purse and the directional signs came into focus. The driver had taken the exit to the FDR Drive.

      She tapped on the Plexiglas partition. The window slowly whirred downward.

      “Yes, Ms. Turner?”

      “Where are we going?”

      “To dinner.”

      “You said that already.”

      “That’s all I know, Ms. Turner.”

      “You must know where you were told to drive,” she pressed, trying to control her rising temper, which was being overshadowed by her rising panic.

      The partition whirred back into place, cutting off any further communication.

      It was just like Michael to dream up something elaborate. But how in the world would she be able to explain what would certainly be a late night to Steven?

      Sighing, she settled back against the plush leather. There wasn’t much that she could do other than wait it out. It’s not as if she could jump out of the car and make a run for it.

      She’d deal with Michael when she saw him. She folded her arms and silently fumed, even as part of her bloomed with a macabre sense of excitement.

      Forty minutes later, they took the exit to Sag Harbor. Mia jerked up on her seat and peered out the window.

      The historic and quaint seaside town was elegantly quiet. The shops that were reminiscent of a postcard ad for weekend getaways were closed. The boats were docked and bobbing gently in the water.

      The driver continued through the commercial section of town and drove to the outskirts, where the stately home of the wealthy African-American elite lived.

      Finally, the driver turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled onto a gravel driveway.

      Mia’s door was pulled open and the driver extended his hand to help her out of the car. She stepped out and reflexively inhaled the heady scent of the sea and brisk night air. The sky had just begun to fill with stars and the half moon seemed to hang perfectly above a two-story, sprawling white house that overlooked the ocean.

      It was breathtaking.

      “This way,” the driver said, leading Mia up the path to the front door.

      As she took the first of three steps, the door opened. Her gaze rose. Her heart leaped in her chest. She thought she was prepared to see him.

      She wasn’t.

      Michael descended the stairs like a fantasy