CHAPTER 1

            Kayla Carmichael leaned forward on her chair and contemplated the painting in front of her.  She peered at the scrape near the bottom left corner.  Could it be fixed without devaluing the piece?  She sighed.  Of course it could be done.  The damage was minimal, less than ten percent just like she preferred.  The problem was the enthusiasm she usually felt restoring such a masterpiece was gone.  She was too distracted to be passionate about anything, and the culprit was the white envelope currently residing on her table—her resignation letter.    

            Kayla looked at her watch and smothered a groan.  Ten already?  Where did the time go?  She’d wasted her morning trying to muster enough courage to leave the safety of her basement workroom and invade her boss’ inner sanctum upstairs.  But the thought of looking into Baron Satchel’s gorgeous eyes and telling him she was quitting left her edgy.  He would hit the roof, and once he calmed down, turn on the charm.  She’d been at the receiving end of that calendar pin-up male’s flirtatious charm once too many times.  It was potent.  It was dangerous.  It was darn near impossible to resist.  And she didn’t think she could a second time. 

            A knock at her workroom door interrupted her musing and her best friend peeked into her office.  Oh crap, Ms. “Buttinski” Gunter.  Could this day get any worse?  “May.  What brings you to my humble workplace?” 

            May closed the door and surveyed the room.  “Don’t you mean dungeon.”  She grinned when Kayla’s eyes narrowed.  “Don’t mean to disrespect your space, Kay, but the covered canvases give it a gloomy look, if you know what I mean.”  She started down the stairs, her shoulder-length flipped-up-at-the-tips hairdo bouncing with each step she took.  “Anyway, I thought I’d stop by and see if you want to do lunch.”

              At ten in the morning?  She knew exactly why May was invading her office.  She hadn’t nicknamed her Buttinski for nothing.  Poking her nose in other people’s affairs was Ms. Assistant District Attorney’s favorite pastime. 

            Kayla leaned forward and tried to grab the resignation letter on the sly before her friend saw it.  “You didn’t have to come all this way.  You could’ve called and—”

            “You wouldn’t have answered, just like you didn’t yesterday and the day before.” 

            May wrapped the strap of her designer bag on the pole at the end of the staircase and walked toward Kayla.  She looked stunning, as always, the chic suit hugging her willowy body, her walnut-brown face flawless.  It was hard to believe defense lawyers could concentrate fully on their clients when the sexy, drop-dead gorgeous May was prosecuting a case.           

            She stopped beside Kayla’s desk and propped a fisted hand on her hip.  “When your best friend starts to screen your calls, something’s up.” 

            “Oh, please.  You know how I hate to be interrupted when I’m in the middle of a project.  And I’ve been working late.”

            May laughed, her eyes going to the letter in Kayla’s hand.  “Is that what you call it now?  I’d say you’ve been procrastinating, stressing, and thinking about all possible scenarios that go with offering your resignation to the hunk upstairs.” 

            Kayla gave up the pretense of trying to hide the letter.  “Don’t tell me your case load is so small you had to come downtown to poke fun at me.”

            “No, I didn’t, but it’s been three days, Kay.  What’s going on?”

            Kayla tried not to squirm under her friend’s quizzical gaze.  Call it an insight, sixth sense, or whatever, but May could always read her.  She claimed Kayla wore her feelings in her eyes and would suck as a juror.  Well, she refused to be analyzed or have her motives questioned.  “Nothing’s going on.  I just needed to prepare.” 

            “For what?”

            “A de-roofing hurricane,” she answered without thinking and realized her mistake right away when May lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. 

            “Excuse me?  A hurricane in L.A.?”

            Kayla laughed to cover the gaffe, jumped to her feet, and picked up the Hallè painting.  “You know what I mean.” 

            She propped it on the easel she used when cleaning or restoring a painting.  For a moment, she stood with her back to May.  She hadn’t meant to openly refer to her boss as a hurricane.  Yet there was no fitting way to describe antique dealer Baron Satchel when he went after something.  He was single-minded, unstoppable.  About the time she started working for him, he’d let slip his five-year plan to expand the gallery by featuring furniture classics of the twentieth century, mid-career artists across the state, and two separate one-man shows every month.  It took him four years to accomplish that and start an online gallery to introduce younger, emerging and affordable artist to collectors.  La Baron Galleria now occupied the second floor of the building.  The building itself, he acquired after outbidding a real estate developer.  Now he was opening a branch in San Francisco, a partnership between him and Mercedes Benz of San Francisco. 

             A year ago she’d made the mistake on going to see him on an impulse and learned just how relentless he could be.  Her plan then was to offer her resignation, just like today.  As soon as he’d learned the reason why she wanted to quit, he was on the phone facilitating everything so she got exactly what she wanted, which was to restore older paintings.  Turned out he’d been rejecting restoration works involving historic pieces because he thought she wasn’t ready.  His assumption had ticked her off.  Yeah, the man was a total shark when it came to business and to deal with him one must anticipate his response and have an answer ready.  She was so ready this time.  All she needed was to get herself upstairs.    

            “Kay?”

            She turned to face May.  Her friend had taken the only available chair, so Kayla propped her butt on the edge of the desk.  “Baron won’t like it.”

            May’s shoulders rose and fell.  “Too bad.  People quit jobs all the time.”

             “Not at La Baron Galleria.  He’s a just boss and pays too well for anyone to want to quit.”   

            “Yet you’re quitting.”  May’s smile was mocking as though she could see through Kayla’s B.S. to the real reason she wanted to quit.  

            Kayla wrinkled her nose.  “You know why.  I promised myself I’d go solo by my twenty-eighth birthday.  I just turned twenty-nine.”  In the last five years, she’d amassed the contacts she’d need once she started her custom-framing company.  She loved restoring works of art, too, and planned to continue with it, but with the added advantage of being her own boss, free to pick and choose projects.  “It’s time to move on.”

            “Are you sure?”

            Kayla scowled down at her.  “Of course I’m sure.  What other reason could I have for leaving?”

            “Why don’t you tell me?  From my position, you seem to be dragging your feet.”

            May had a nasty way of treating people like they were on the witness stand.  Kayla wasn’t in the mood to play her games.  “Don’t try your courtroom tactics on me, May Gunter.  Come out and ask me whatever it is you want to ask, then hightail to your Beverly Hills office with a view so I can get back to work in my dungeon.  And no ten o’clock power lunch excuse either.  You aren’t fooling anybody.”

            “Ouch.  You’re in a bitchy mood today, aren’t you?”  May leaned closer and placed her elbows on the desk, her eyes becoming serious.  “I know you’re edgy about this resignation thing, sweetie, but don’t you think you’re lobbing those salvos at the wrong person.  Baron’s the one you should be targeting, not me.”

            Kayla bristled.  “Now why would I want to do that?”

            “The very reason you didn’t quit last year.  You’re attracted to him.  Worse, you’re about to leave without doing something about it.  The question is whom are you really pissed off at?  You?  Him?  Or both of you?”

            Kayla felt heat rush to her face.  She was angry with herself.  Angry she was attracted to a man who wasn’t interested in an exclusive relationship with her or any other woman.  Baron liked variety and changed women more often than most men changed socks. 

            “Sweetie, if you want to jump him, do it already.  Get him out of your system and move on.” 

            Kayla rolled her eyes.  “You know you’re crazy.”

            May grinned.  “But right.  You’ve thought about it.”  She wagged a finger at Kayla.  “Yes, you have.  I can see it in your eyes.  I remember the first year you worked for him.  I’d walk in here and the two of you would be having a heated discussion about some artwork or artist.  It was like watching two halves of a whole, ying and yang.”

            “So?  We’ve always worked well together.  No matter what his faults are, Baron has an amazing ability to discover talented artists and market them.  And I,” she gave May a smug smile, “not to toot my horn, can smell a fake antique from a mile away, okay?”

            “You know I’m not making this up.  You two were close.  In fact, I was so sure something was going on until I read about his engagement to Valerie what’s-her-face.  You took it in stride as usual.”

            “Because he’s just a friend and a wonderful boss,” Kayla retorted, starting to get tired of defending her atypical relationship with her boss. 

            “Is that why when Valerie dumped him, you rushed to his side?”

            Kayla got up and picked up the tray of cleaning liquids and brushes.  She studied May’s determined expression and groaned.  “That’s what friends do for each other, May.  Just like I’ve come to your place when a case is not going well, so quit with the psychoanalysis and go back to work.  I know I need to.”  She went to place the tray by the Hallè painting.

            “Kay, you would tell me if you more than like him, wouldn’t you?” 

            Seriously, when May was on the roll, she was like a derailed train.  Kayla let out a deep sigh and turned around.  The teasing grin was gone from her friend’s face.  She actually thought Kayla was in love with Baron?  That would be foolish, and she didn’t do foolish.  In lust with him, yes.  But then again, who wouldn’t.  He was handsome, sexy, and wealthy—not just from what he was doing with his gallery but he came from one of L.A.’s old money families.  And the man could kiss.  Her blood pressure rose at the memory of the one they’d shared a year ago.

It was right after she’d let him know how pissed she was by his assumption about her inability to handle more expensive artwork.  Later, once she cooled down, she realized she’d overreacted and would’ve handled her anger differently.  She’d even blamed her response on his cold demeanor rubbing her the wrong way.  One minute he’d been behind the desk, the next by her side.  Then there was the kindling of something potent between them, the swelling of heat before he’d even touched her…his hand on her waist, pulling her closer and closer…her trembling body desperately craving and wanting to mesh with his.  The instant his lips touched hers, she’d buzzed as though zapped by electricity and lit up as her blood flamed.

Kayla’s lips tingled in remembrance at the way he’d coaxed her mouth open and kissed her until her soul melted and interlocked with his, or so she’d thought at the time.  The velvet feel of his hot skin as she’d cupped his cheek, the sharp angle of his jaw, his heart pounding beneath her other hand, the masculine scent of his forest-after-storm cologne, she could go on forever.  The sensual details had haunted her, along with the way he’d turned away from her, the coolness and indifference. 

            “Would you?” May asked, again, interrupting her thoughts and yanking her back to the present.

            “Yes, I would confess all to you, but I’m not.  I admit I liked him a lot in the beginning.  He was charming, cocky and playful.  I think every woman who worked for him then was a little in love with him.  But my interest in him waned.  I grew up.”  Painfully and fast, the thought sneaked in on her, but she clammed on it.  And from the knowing look on her face, May wasn’t buying her explanation either.  It was true that she had a crush on Baron, but then Valerie came into the picture.  Soon after the woman had left him, he became distant and moody, driven.  It was as though he had something to prove.  Business became everything to him.  Occasionally she caught glimpses of the younger Baron in his austere face.  Not that it mattered.  “He isn’t my type.” 

            She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until May chuckled.   “Sweetie, that man with his sculptured body, brooding eyes, and sinfully silky voice is every woman’s type.”    

            And he’d starred in way too many of her hot, juicy fantasies for Kayla to disagree with her friend.  “Okay, you win, counsel.  Yes, I’ve been procrastinating, but you’ve shown me exactly why I’m doing the right thing by quitting.  Now go,” she pointed at the door, “scram…beat it.  I’ll see you later in the week.  We’ll have dinner or something.”

            May got up, but she still had that look in her eyes, the suspicious D.A. look.  “And the letter?”

            “I swear I’ll make you pay for this. Read my lips.  It will be handed to him today.”  She interspaced her words to drive her massage home, namely she was tired of May’s interference.

            “I don’t mean to be pushy, but my realtor has the paperwork for the office space you were interested in.  I promised to let her know by the end of the day whether you want it or not.” 

            “Oh, why didn’t you say so?  Sure, I want it.  Tell her to start processing the papers.”  It was a prime property, not far from L.A. County Museum of Art, George C. Page Museum, and La Brea Tar Pits.  Her goal was to offer her services, once her offices opened its doors, to small businesses but also to the big guys in the Museum Row. 

            “That’s the way to do it.”  May retrieve her bag at the foot of the stairs and paused to add, “Now if only you could only apply that go-getter attitude to your personal life—”

            “Goodbye, Buttinski.”

            She laughed and patted her perfectly shaped butt.  “I hope you’re referring to my very, very fine behind.”

            “Then stop getting all over my business.” 

            May laughed.  “Will do, as soon as you stop letting people walk all over you.  You’re too nice.  Most of the time anyway.  Call me,” she paused for effect, “once you decide to jump his bones.” 

            Kayla growled as she watched May giggle her way up the stairs and out of her workroom.  It was pathetic how easily the woman read her.  It started when the two of them shared a room in college.  May with her privileged background, designer clothes, and vacations in exotic islands could easily have treated her and her working class parents with contempt.  Yet she hadn’t.  She always looked forward to Kayla’s parents coming to visit them at UC Berkeley.  They’d stayed friends to the present.  In fact, she couldn’t have found out about the job at La Baron Galleria if it weren’t for May who grew up in the same neighborhood as the Satchels and heard through a mutual friend that Baron was looking for an art restorer.  

            As for her suggestion, it wasn’t going to happen.  Lusting after Baron and seducing him were two very different things.  Still, the idea was tantalizing, scandalous, and downright frightening.  Baron was the type of guy that took over a woman’s senses and left her hungering for more.  One kiss had taught her that much.  Besides, she wasn’t the type to make the first move.

            Kayla removed her smock, retrieved the letter from her desk and shoved it in her purse.  It was better to give him the letter now and get it over with than continue to agonize over her decision.  She started upstairs, each step more determined than the last one.  I can do this.

            At the top of the stairs was seven-shaped hallway with doors leading to various rooms—several storage rooms and an employee’s restrooms, a conference room and a little kitchenette, Baron’s assistant Rick Ben-Jacob’s office, then a left turn to a private elevator, which went to Baron’s offices upstairs.  Kayla ducked in the bathroom to freshen up. 

            She washed her hands, took lip gloss from her purse and applied trace amount on her lips, then she leaned back to take inventory of her appearance.  Her hair was in its usual bun in the back, baring her heart-shaped face.  It was a perfect hairdo for her kind of work, but she wished she’d let it down and styled it for today.  Dangling hair could act as a veil at just the right moment.  A little bit more make-up wouldn’t have hurt either.  She looked at her tan pants and white blouse, and sighed.  Getting dressed up and putting war paints would have bolstered her confidence but it wouldn’t change anything.  She still had to face the beefcake upstairs.

            Kayla stepped out of the bathroom and hurried past Rick’s office.  The man was busy on the computer and didn’t see her.  Upstairs, Regina “Gina” Ray, Baron’s secretary, sat behind her impressive mahogany desk, her irritated gaze on two young women waiting in the visitor’s corner—two plush couches with an antique coffee table to the right of her desk.  Baron must still be interviewing showroom attendants for his San Francisco gallery. 

            One of the girls had a skimpy top that clearly indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra, which explained Gina’s annoyed expression.  Kayla covered a smile.  Gina, a leggy and stunning caramel complexioned sister with a kick-ass wardrobe, ran Baron’s office like her private fiefdom.  No one was allowed to see him without an appointment.  Except me which ticked girlfriend off to no end.  But despite her territorial attitude toward Baron, she always acted and dressed professionally.  Anyone who didn’t know her might think she had a thing for the boss.  Kayla knew she was just a perfectionist when it came to office behavior and protocol.

            As usual, the secretary scowled when she saw her.  “Kayla.”

            “Gina.”

            “You want to see Mr. Satchel?”

            Why else would I be here? She didn’t understand why the woman insisted on using “Mr. Satchel” when both of them addressed him as Baron.  Only the sales clerks were that formal with him.  “Is he busy?”

            “As always.”  She flipped through his appointment book.  “But I can squeeze you in for a few minutes.  He has an important conference call in exactly five minutes.”

            In other words, don’t waste his time.  Kayla understood.  “Thanks, Gina.” 

            She stepped toward Baron’s door just as one of the girls from the couch spoke up. “Excuse me?  We’ve been waiting to see him for almost an hour now and you’re letting her—”

            “I told you he’ll see you when he’s ready.  If you can’t wait, come tomorrow.”

            The conversation receded to the background as Kayla knocked and waited for a response.  When it came, she took a calming breath, then another before pushing the door open. 

            The large room was the seat of power, from the grey carpeting, antiques around the room, to the dark cherry desk.  But the power humming in the room came from the bronze-skinned man behind the desk.  He’d removed his jacket and his light blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders with careless elegance.  His hair was cropped short.  It suited him, just like the corn-rowed, longer hair he’d sported years ago had looked perfect on him.  It really didn’t matter what he wore, the man exuded raw sexuality.  He looked up and locked his dark, bottomless eyes on her.  His gaze felt like a physical touch and the hairs on her arms lifted in response.

            Baron had known Kayla was his visitor long before he looked up.  Her scent, woodsy with a hint of wild flowers had a way of making the back of his neck tingle.  His eyes skimmed over her pear-shaped figure.  Even in simple slacks and shirt, she managed to look elegant and graceful, and the effect on him was headier than a perfectly aged cognac. 

            He watched her walk toward him, her hip-swaying stride confident and mesmerizing, a walk that proclaimed to the world, “I’m a sexy woman, deal with it.”  He’d resisted dealing with it for years, partly because of bad timing and a company policy he’d drafted himself but which he would have broken in a heartbeat had she given him any hint that she was interested.  He planned to change all that.  Encouragement or not, he was making his move the day after the doors of his San Francisco gallery opened.  The one thing he’d learned these past four years was how to outline a good strategy and follow it systematically until he achieved his goal.  The seduction of Kayla Carmichael was part of this year’s plan, to be commenced in exactly one month.

Baron rose to his feet, his gaze moving over her heart-shaped face, the skin the tantalizing color of roasted coffee beans, the luscious lips a man could get lost in for hours, days even.  Kayla stopped before his desk and gave him one of her sweet smiles, the effect making his toes curl.  Maybe he was a fool for waiting.             

            “Kayla, what a surprise.”  She rarely came to his office, but that never stopped him from going to the basement to visit, usually in the guise of checking on the progress of a piece she was working on.

            “I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said.

            The nerves on the surface of his skin responded to her husky soft voice.  “You bother me?  Never.  Come on, have a seat.” 

            He waited until she sat down, then he settled back in his seat.  For a moment, she didn’t speak, just sucked her bottom luscious lip between her teeth and chewed on the pink flesh.  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the silence was driving him nuts.  His gaze kept drifting to her mouth.  “What is it?”

            “I, uh, want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working here these past five years, Baron.  You took a chance on me when I was fresh out of grad school and taught me so much.  I’ll always be grateful for that.  I’ve thought hard about this, it’s nothing personal, I just think the time is right for me to leave.  I’m, uh, here to offer you my resignation.”

            Baron’s chest tightened before she finished her first sentence.  Every word was like a needle prickling his skin.  She was leaving him, walking out.  His brain short-circuited and the past rushed back with the force of a tsunami.  It was the situation with Valarie all over again.  He knew it was irrational to feel betrayed, to compare the two women.  They were nothing alike, the situations not remotely the same.  Kayla wasn’t pregnant with his child.  His ring wasn’t on her finger.  And she wasn’t about to take off with someone he’d thought was a friend.  Baron clenched his teeth and forced himself to think and act rational.

 I

Copyright © 2010 Bella McFarland. All Rights Reserved.