Buch lesen: «Reckless Seduction»

Chapter 1

Haley Feldon stepped out into the late summer sun, grateful for the trees that shaded New York City’s East Sixty-Fourth Street. She both loved and hated New York City, but if her dreams were ever to have the slightest chance of materializing, it was where she had to be.

She’d had a difficult meeting with Tom Brennan, one of her backers, that morning. The conceited old coot never missed an opportunity to remind her of his wealth or to mention his generous contributions to the numerous foundations that depended upon him and others like him to finance their philanthropic work.

As she walked swiftly down Second Avenue, Haley sighed. She hated having to work with Brennan, but their meetings were unavoidable. As founder and president of the International Institute for Social Progress (IISP), she devoted herself to projects that improved the lives of poor women and children. Her immediate goals were to improve educational opportunities for children living on reservations and to establish a program to reduce pregnancies and school dropouts among teenage girls in New York City.

She was determined to make a difference. Unfortunately, her work brought her into contact with men like Brennan, because making a difference cost money. And funding for projects like the ones she envisioned for IISP was hard to come by.

Haley glanced at her watch and saw that she had about an hour before her appointment with Nedia Edstrom, head of the United Nations Conference on Social Change. That would give her time for coffee and a few minutes to focus on the proposal that she was presenting to Nedia. Inside the United Nations Secretariat Building, she took the escalator to the second floor and walked down the heavily carpeted corridor toward the North Delegates Lounge. Walking toward her was the tall, sandy-haired man she seemed to glimpse almost every time she came into the Secretariat Building. Elegant and well-built, he exuded an aura of power, strength and pure animal magnetism.

Her response to him always astonished her. How could she react this way to a man she had not even met? Haley was sure that he had his share of female admirers, but she was definitely not going to become one of them. She vowed she wouldn’t even though, or perhaps because, he showed up regularly in her dreams and often interfered with her daytime thoughts, too. No, she didn’t fool herself. She was acutely aware of him, even if she always tried to pretend that she wasn’t. It had gotten so bad that she looked for him every time she entered the building. And she knew that she flushed whenever she saw him. What was it about him? she wondered.

Not to mention she’d caught him looking at her on numerous occasions. She’d always looked away before their gazes could connect. In spite of her natural reserve, she almost hungered to know him. Yet, because she sensed that he represented a danger to her, she usually avoided him. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid him today—not this time. Today, he was walking directly to her.

Jon Stig Ecklund leaned back in the chair in his office in the United Nations Secretariat Building. The main office of Ecklund International Syndicate, Inc. (EIS), his family’s international satellite network, occupied three floors of a large building on Madison Avenue. Jon preferred to use this smaller office at the UN when he needed privacy or solitude for his work.

He didn’t enjoy being alone, but sometimes he needed absolute quiet to hear himself think. Yet even in the solitude of this smaller office Jon was finding it hard to concentrate today. He pushed back his chair, walked out of the office and headed to the North Delegates Lounge for a drink and a break. He took the escalator to the second floor and started for the lounge. It was then that he saw her.

He had seen her at a distance so many times that he felt as if knew her. Actually, he did know her, because she had spent many hours in his dreams. Her beauty intrigued him. Her regal bearing, long jet-black hair, olive complexion and soft brown eyes bespoke of mixed heritage. And with her tall, perfectly proportioned figure and lovely face she could have been a fashion model. Yet he knew instinctively that there was more to her than beauty. He’d once seen her in the dignified Delegates Dining Room daintily plucking raspberries from her plate and eating them one by one with her fingers. He guessed that she was at once respectable and sassy. She exuded calm coolness, yet Jon wondered if she hid fiery passion beneath her cold facade. He was drawn to her like a moth to fire.

Dammit, he wanted to know her. But she never gave him the opportunity. Every time he managed to get close enough to speak to her, she bolted like a skittish colt. He was fast losing patience with that game. She was an enigma that he was going to solve…and then forget.

Haley wanted to turn around and go the other way, but it was too late. He was looking directly at her, and her usual calm deserted her. He was handsome. No, he was beautiful. And he was tall, maybe six feet four or five inches. Not many men towered over her, but his height dwarfed her five-ten frame. So this is how dainty felt, Haley thought.

He seemed to pause in his approach. Was he going to speak? She realized she’d never heard his voice. Now she was dying to know if his voice matched his smooth masculine good looks.

Jon held her gaze until he was abreast of her. “Good morning.” He said it softly, as if not to frighten her, but she didn’t respond. She saw him open his mouth, and in an act of uncharacteristic cowardliness, she glanced away. The moment passed. She wasn’t sure whether she walked faster or slower, but when she passed through the lounge and reached the coffee shop, she had strength only to find a table and sit down. She hugged her stomach, calming herself. She knew something else about him now. He had blond hair and long eyelashes that half hid a pair of piercing, fern-green eyes—beautiful eyes. She wanted to kick herself for not speaking to him.

Resuming his normally brisk stride, Jon promised himself that no matter where he saw her again or who she was with, he was going to speak to her. The thought that he would finally settle something that was definitely getting out of hand lightened his mood.

He walked on, mulling over his encounter with the woman. Who the hell was she? What was it about her, a woman of whom he knew absolutely nothing, that made him feel so empty, so lacking in something that he could not label but that was so vital it gnawed at him? He released a long sigh. He wanted her out of his thoughts, out of his mind. He didn’t need this aggravation, this teenage craving for something he shouldn’t want and couldn’t get. Having given himself that stern lecture, he quickened his steps to the lounge. He’d have a vodka.

“Haley Feldon! Haven’t seen you in ages. How’s the institute going? I heard that you’d delivered a first-class lecture down on Capitol Hill. Do you think you stand a chance of introducing some new life into the secondary school programs for Native American children on reservations? Can I get you an espresso?”

Haley’s face creased into a big smile at the sight of her old friend. “Hello, Nels. It’s good to see you. How is Isabella? Are you two still an item? And yes, I’d love an espresso.” And thank you for distracting me, bringing me back to earth.

“Say, why were you sitting with your back to the entrance? Are you hiding from someone?”

Before she could answer, she heard Nels call out to someone. “Jon Ecklund, where have you been? Come over here and join us.” Haley felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck.

“Nels Andersen, son of a gun, you’re a sight for sore ey… Well! Hello, at last.”

Haley knew who it was even before she looked up.

“Hello.” Was that dry quivering voice hers? Did they notice how it trembled?

“Have you two met?” Nels asked, rather tentatively.

“We have now,” Jon offered. “Who are you?” He looked at her intently.

“I’m Haley Feldon,” she said, extending her hand. He took it and held it, still looking at her. She felt the blood warm the skin of her face and experienced something that she had never felt before, a flash of warmth from head to foot, the heat settling in the pit of her loins. She hated that she had reacted to him that way. Withdrawing her hand, she took refuge in the lukewarm espresso. It was a mistake. Her hand shook as she raised the cup to her lips, and both men saw it.

“I’ve got exactly nine minutes to make an appointment on the twenty-second floor. It was a pleasant surprise seeing you, Nels. I wish I had more time. Perhaps we can get together for lunch one of these days. Goodbye, Mr. Ecklund.”

“Aren’t you implying that you aren’t pleased to have met me?” Jon asked, sardonically. He had the pleasure of seeing her speechless. But she quickly regained her composure, smiled rather lamely and hurriedly walked away.

“What on earth is going on between you two?” Nels wanted to know.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

“Is there anything I can do to help this ‘nothing’ along?” Nels asked. “You know I’m always willing to do anything I can for a college buddy.”

“No! If there’s anything I don’t need, Nels, it’s the kind of chaos you can create when you start your pranks. I’m not in the market for a woman. And if I was, I’d look for one a bit warmer than that porcelain Venus.”

Few people knew that second side of Nels’s personality, and most anyone would have had difficulty reconciling the boyish prankster with the suave, efficient journalist, the tough adversary that aptly characterized Nels Andersen.

Nels lifted his right shoulder in a careless shrug. “Well, at least you admit that she’s a goddess. Haley is a wonderful human being, but I thought I caught some sparks between you two.”

“Look, Nels, drop it! Just drop it, will you? A lot of things have happened since we last saw each other. My divorce is final. Karen has remarried, and I’m not looking for anybody.” No, he wasn’t looking, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want Haley Feldon. At least he wanted to get to know her, find out whether… What the hell did he want?

Nels watched Jon carefully. There was something different there. He was guarded, where he had always been so open, direct and straightforward. He wondered about Jon’s divorce. Well, he thought, Jon had always been somewhat reticent with women, though they sure as hell liked him. Maybe someday they’d be able to talk about it. Nels considered it for a moment. He had never given any thought to pranks with Jon where women were concerned. Somewhat bemused at his thoughts, he realized that he never would. For all his apparent toughness, Jon was too vulnerable.

“Look, man, I’m inviting some of the old gang over in a couple of weeks, after I get back from my assignment in Eastern Europe. As soon as I finalize my plans, you know…guest list and all that, I’ll call you. Will you come?”

“Sure,” Jon said, frowning slightly as he gave Nels his home phone number.

Nels rose and patted Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s stay in touch, buddy,” he said softly, giving Jon his number.

“By the way, Nels, why is it that you aren’t interested in Ms. Feldon?”

Nels laughed. “It’s Dr. Feldon. I knew her when she didn’t have all of that polish,” he said, cryptically.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Well, I covered Peace Corps activities in Africa and used to see her in Kenya. She was just an idealistic kid back then. She’s still idealistic.”

“Well, she’s certainly no kid now,” Jon drawled. “See you.”

Haley fastened her seat belt and prepared for the sixteen-hour flight to Nairobi. She was pleased with the contract that she had negotiated for IISP with Nedia and had spent the past ten days developing the material for the seminars and workshops that were intended to aid the improvement of women’s health in several East African countries. This was what she had dreamed of for her institute.

Owing to the negligence of one of her senior staff members, she’d been up until two in the morning completing preparations for her trip. She’d had enough of him and intended to fire him as soon as she found a replacement. Feeling immensely relieved for having come to that decision, she signaled the stewardess and asked for a cocktail, got out a novel by her favorite writer and settled down. It would be good to see Nairobi again after five years.

At about page twenty in the book, she realized that she’d only been looking at the words while seeing the face of Jon Ecklund. Sure, he’d made an impression on her. Every time she saw him, she’d become conscious of herself as a woman. Something about him drew her like a magnet draws a nail, and she didn’t find that soothing. She didn’t intend to give another man the power to make her need him and then to humiliate her. After four years, she was still tormented by that experience. No matter how elegant her appearance, how many admiring looks she received and how successful she was professionally, she had only to remember Joshua Hines and his bigoted parents to have her self-confidence shaken and her ego shattered.

Not even the fact that Jon Ecklund seemed attracted to her helped. After all, Josh had claimed to be crazy about her. But his parents—both of whom claimed to have ancestors who came to Plymouth, Massachusetts, on the Mayflower—didn’t want him with a black woman. And for all his seemingly tough exterior, Josh proved to be as spineless as a shrimp.

How could she have been such a fool? She wished to God that she had never seen Josh. And if she could, she’d put two continents between herself and Jon Ecklund.

He isn’t my problem, I am. He probably hasn’t given me another thought, she thought to herself and smiled.

Haley’s seatmate on the London-Nairobi leg of the trip was a distinguished-looking man about fifty years old. She attempted to discourage conversation with him, but he would not be denied. When he produced pictures of his family, on whom he clearly doted, she relaxed and became friendlier. Edgar Layton was a London-based entrepreneur, movie producer and sportsman who knew his way around East Africa and a good deal of the rest of the world. He and his family would be spending the winter at their home in Nairobi. When he learned of Haley’s mission, he assured her that she had only to call his Nairobi office and he would arrange for as much press coverage as she needed and introduce her to any official who could make her work easier.

Layton proved to be as good as his word. And when Haley’s local counterpart failed to keep the first day’s appointment, leaving her effectively stranded, she called him and, within an hour, was able to begin her work. He also invited her to dinner at his home the following evening.

She dressed for the dinner in pink silk slacks and a shirt of matching fabric and color. Layton had said that dining tended to be casual. She found there a very congenial group of expatriates, including Layton’s American-born wife, whom she liked immediately. But the surprise, and she wasn’t sure whether it was a welcome one, was meeting Ian MacKenlin, head of Ecklund International Syndicate’s regional bureau. Dear God. She was thousands of miles from him, but she hadn’t escaped him. When Ian learned of her project, he let her know at once that EIS was at her disposal for press and publicity. What would he say if he knew that she couldn’t get his boss out of her head?

Jon stopped by Ida’s Gourmet Takeout on First Avenue, bought his dinner and headed home. He wanted to catch the seven o’clock international news roundup on EIS TV. He set the containers of crab cakes, red potato salad with dill and sour cream and green beans with butter-almond sauce on his coffee table, opened a can of beer, kicked off his shoes and settled in for dinner and news. He couldn’t believe his eyes when Haley appeared on his screen, explaining the importance of diet, clean water, sanitation and prenatal care for pregnant women. He listened spellbound while she outlined a number of simple and inexpensive measures that would reduce the high risk of childbirth for East African women. And he learned that she would spend two weeks there training social and health workers.

Well, well, he thought, so Dr. Feldon knew her stuff. And she looked damned good on camera, too. She wore that shade of pink well, but to his taste that color was too virginal. The clip was short, but he supposed Ian gave her as much time as he could. He’d like to know more about her, and he made a mental note to call her office the next day.

Amy, Haley’s secretary, was too delighted to outline Haley’s mission for Jon. It didn’t escape him that, given the slightest bit of encouragement, she would have produced a litany of her boss’s virtues. As it was, she didn’t use much self-restraint, informing him that Haley was successful because she devoted all of her time to work and practically none to social life and relaxation. Jon wondered why she needed to tell him that. He respected intelligence and hard work in anybody, but he’d never admired workaholics. Somehow he didn’t think that Haley Feldon’s life was as unbalanced as her secretary’s description suggested. He didn’t question his pleasure at learning that Haley evidently wasn’t spending a lot of time with a man.

Nels paced the balcony of his river view apartment on the Upper East Side. Where were they? He’d gone to considerable inconvenience to arrange an opportunity for Jon and Haley to get together in circumstances more conducive to developing a friendship than chance encounters at the United Nations coffee shop. A glance at his watch told him that it was after nine o’clock. Both were usually good as their word. At last, the doorbell rang. He went to the door, opened it and he watched Haley enter. She looked great as usual. She had changed since they knew each other years earlier, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Was it polish or sadness?

“There you are,” he beamed. “Come over here. I want you to meet some friends.” He hadn’t meant for Art Chasen to be the first person she met there. Art was definitely not the man you introduced to your sister or to any woman you admired. He needn’t have worried. Haley appraised Art coolly, politely, but kept walking.

“I can see that you’ve grown up,” he told her with brotherly affection. “You couldn’t have dusted Art off more effectively if you had used a chamois.”

“Nels, I don’t play games with men. I want everything up front. It’s easier that way, and one is less likely to get hurt.”

“Someone hurt you, Haley?” Nels regarded her closely. Was he doing the right thing, getting these two wounded doves together?

“Let us just say that I have learned the value of caution,” she said.

“Caution about what?” Haley pivoted around at the sound of Jon’s voice. Why hadn’t she suspected that Nels would invite him? She wasn’t prepared for this. Why was she lying to herself? She was prepared for it. Hadn’t she changed dresses three times before settling on a figure-revealing burnt-orange silk shift, hoping that Jon would be there?

Neither she nor Nels answered.

“My, but you are elegant, as usual,” Jon added. “You’re very lovely tonight, Dr. Feldon.”

“Thank you, and please call me Haley. Dr. Feldon is so formal and seems out of place at the party of a mutual friend.”

“I’ll let you two get better acquainted,” Nels said and walked away. There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Will you call me Jon?”

Haley was startled by the question. Even so, she decided that she liked his voice. Deep and resonant, it befitted the big man that he was, and like the rest of him, it had nothing to spare… Crisp, with just a touch of lilt. He wore a dark gray suit, pale gray on gray silk shirt and a yellow tie almost the color of his hair. She looked at him. He stood no more than an inch taller than Nels, yet beside him, she felt small and feminine. Nels made her feel nothing but friendship.

Her gaze roamed over the lean, beautifully structured form of him, lingering on his muscular thighs, his broad shoulders and, finally, lifting to his mouth. Dear Lord. His mouth! It was the most sensuous thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she finally, if unwillingly, looked into his fern-green eyes and gasped, audibly. Those green eyes blazed with blatant desire, obviously triggered by her appraisal of him. She looked first at the floor and then toward the ceiling—anyplace but at him.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, attempting to put her at ease.

“No, I haven’t. Thank you.”

Splaying his fingers at her lower back, he guided her to the buffet table of hors d’oeuvres. Somewhat wobbly from their visual caress, she was grateful for his support. He handed her a finger sandwich of smoked salmon, cream cheese and dill on pumpernickel and seemed fascinated as she managed to nibble it without touching her lips. He dipped a crab claw in some pink dressing and then into his mouth.

“Mmm, but this is good,” he said gazing at her. He cleaned his top lip with the tip of his tongue. She knew he hadn’t meant to be provocative, but that gesture was the epitome of provocation.

She stared at him. Was his every move a sexual innuendo? Maybe she was just reading sensuality into it. In all her twenty-eight years, she had never responded to a man this way. She probably didn’t even know what a woman’s response to a man was supposed to be. Lord knows, her one short abysmal experience with Joshua had been devastating.

“The annual Second Avenue festival starts Friday. Have you ever been?” At this point, she would’ve said anything to change the focus of her unruly thoughts.

“No. Why?” he asked.

“You seem to enjoy eating, and some of the food at that festival is so fantastic that I just throw caution to the four winds, forget the guilt and dig in.”

Jon sensed that she wanted to find neutral ground, that the electricity passing between them had made her uneasy. But he’d be damned if he was going to chitchat about something so banal as a street fair. He’d choose his own safe topic.

“You were great on camera,” he said. “You looked good, too. After I recovered from the surprise of seeing you, I listened to what you had to say. Your message was impressive. If you ever want to change careers, I hope you’ll consider EIS. Believe me, the door is open.”

She made no effort to hide her pleasure at his remarks. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “I was a little nervous, as I’d had less than an hour’s notice that my talk would be televised. And I was excited when I realized that it would be broadcast to the States.” And that it was your network and that you would probably see me, she added silently.

“What do you think of Ian MacKenlin?” Now, why had he asked that? What could she think? Ian was competent and always did his job well. He was also hell with women or had been before he married the year before. What was it to him, anyway? What she did was her business. He made an effort to straighten out his mind and get it going in the right direction. He hardly knew this woman, and it was foolish to be thinking about what man she’d seen or hadn’t seen, liked or hadn’t liked. “Did he, uh, show you around, some sightseeing, that sort of thing?” He winced at his own transparency.

“Why? Is that company policy?”

“Well, for someone who’s never been to the place before…” He stopped himself. He wouldn’t continue that inane conversation. And what she did, he reminded himself again, was her business. Still…

“Mr. MacKenlin introduced me to his wife, who took me shopping in the local marketplace and on home to dinner with them. It was a wonderful evening, and I’m hoping that she and I will remain friends, even over long distance.” She wondered why Jon Ecklund was asking her about MacKenlin. Could he possibly care who she was with? Her mind wondered on. She’d bet her PhD that Jon Ecklund was a thorough man. Thinking that if he made love to a woman, he’d do a man’s job of it, she felt her mouth go dry and her face heat up. She tried not to look at him, but her eyes disobeyed her, and she stared into those fern-green pools of sensuality. God help her, she didn’t want this.

“Do you like music?” he asked, bringing her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” she said. He had rescued her again. “I like the classics, especially Mozart, most of Puccini’s operas, blues and classical jazz. I love jazz.”

He listened to her low, soft voice. It warmed him. Yes, just being with her warmed him. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she always looked. He took her hand, and although she offered no objection, he sensed the tension in her.

“Will you dance with me?” He wanted her in his arms. He knew that he should go slowly, but he couldn’t. His instinct told him that he was vulnerable to her, but he pushed the warning aside. “Come with me,” he said softly, her hand still wrapped in his. She said nothing and didn’t remove her hand, but she went with him.

Nels had converted the dining room for dancing, and several couples were on the floor. As the band began to play “If I Loved You” from Nels’s sound system, he turned to her and opened his arms. She walked into them. For seconds, they didn’t move. Then he began a slow two-step. Though she was tall, at least five feet ten inches, he had to bend a little. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, as if in an embrace and, as he moved, she began to sing the words in a sweet, sultry contralto. She had him spellbound. Her beautiful voice reached into his heart and grabbed him, and her soft body molded perfectly to his. He knew he should put on the brakes, but he wanted more. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he wanted to know her, all of her.

They realized that the music had stopped and that they still held each other.

“You must be a magician.”

“Who, me?” He couldn’t believe that anyone would describe him in that manner.

“Yes, you,” she bantered. “You’ve cast a spell on me. I don’t hug strange men,” she continued, laughing. He grinned. Then he laughed a clear, soul-cleansing laugh.

She stared at him, captivated. “You ought to laugh all the time,” she blurted out. “You’re very attractive when you laugh.”