Winter Kisses (13 page)

“But that didn't mean we were a couple. Damn, it was just a picture.”

Karena looked skeptical. “Yeah, but I remember how the two of you looked that night. When I saw you talking alone I could tell there was something going on between you. We all could. That's why we thought it would be a good idea to set you up in Aspen. It was clear that you were attracted to each other.”

She wanted to deny it. Oh, how desperately did Monica want to deny there was something between her and Alex even back then. But it was futile and denial was fast becoming too big a part of her life.

“Dammit!” she yelled and stood from the floor. “After all these years of being by myself, of not letting any man near me for whatever reason, he's been watch
ing all along. Waiting for me to move on, hating that I might actually get over him. Dammit!”

“Don't do this, Monica. Don't let him win. You are entitled to a life without his lying, cheating ass. To hell with him! We'll have him arrested for stalking and harassment and see how he likes sitting in a cell for a while.”

Monica shook her head. “No. The news would get out—it would spread. We're trying to expand the gallery, Karena. The last thing we need is bad press.”

“Are you serious? You really think the gallery is more important than you standing up to this idiot? Monica, think about what you're saying.”

“I know exactly what I'm saying. I'll contact him. We'll talk and this will be put to rest, finally. But I don't want this getting out. I don't want Mom and Dad to know and I definitely don't want it in the papers.”

“How do you plan on doing this, then? Maybe we should ask Sam for help?”

“No! The less people that know about this the better. I know you'll tell Deena and that's fine. But nobody else. Promise me, Karena, that you won't tell anybody else about this.”

Karena was more than reluctant. She wanted to run home and tell Sam so he could do his investigator thing and find this Yates Hinton. Then she wanted Sam to tell Bree's brother so Cole could use his badge to have the bastard arrested. Then, and this was the best part, she wanted to see the guy herself so she could slug him just once for hurting her sister all these years.

But looking at Monica, for once in her life a vulnerable and frightened woman, Karena couldn't do it.
She couldn't contribute to her sister's heartache. It just wasn't going to happen.

“Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut.” After Monica breathed a sigh of relief she added, “But if this gets out of hand, Monica, I'm telling Sam and Mom and Dad. I won't let you be hurt again. Understand?”

“Don't worry. It won't get out of hand. I'm going to deal with Yates Hinton once and for all.”

“B
ad news,” Sam said the moment Alex answered his phone. “Yates is in New York. His credit card was just used at a hotel in midtown Manhattan.” Karena had given Sam Yates's name when they texted earlier.

Alex cursed, slamming his palm on the steering wheel. “Has he tried to contact Monica?”

“I think so. Karena got a call from Monica late last night. She hurried over to her apartment and spent the night. When Karena called me last night she only said Monica wanted some company, which we all know is not like Monica. I've talked to Karena a couple of times today but she hasn't said anything about Monica except that she's fine and in the office. Now, my thought is either Monica had a message from Yates when she got home or he called after you left. Either way it's not good news.”

“No, that's not good news. Listen, I've got a meeting with the distribution guys in about twenty minutes. Do me a favor and keep that tail on Monica until I can get into the city.”

“Done,” Sam said with a nod. “You know she's going to bust your ass for interfering.”

“She's going to learn that I'm tougher than her words and chilly looks. I'll call you as soon as my meeting's over for an update.”

“No problem.”

Sam disconnected the line and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. There was a big problem, one Alex hadn't mentioned either time Sam had spoken to him in the past two days.

The matchmaking had proved effective, at least on one person's behalf. He'd known the Bennetts for a while now and if there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was that Alex Bennett loved fiercely and he protected what he loved with everything he had. With that said, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that Alex was in love with Monica. God only knew how Monica felt about that or if she even knew.

 

The door to Monica's office was closed. She sat at her desk staring at yet another prettily wrapped box. This is what she'd been doing for the past ten minutes.

Her meeting with Karena had been taken in Karena's office because Monica didn't want to be bombarded with calls and interruptions until she was finished. When it looked as if everything on Karena's end was under control Monica headed to her office.

It was after two o'clock and she was feeling light-headed since she had yet to have lunch. She had stopped
at Adonna's desk, picked up messages and listened to her assistant give her the rundown of what had happened since she left.

“And this guy, his name's Yates Hinton, he called about a million times. He just kept asking for you over and over again, wanting to know when you'd be back, where you were. It was weird.”

“Yes,” Monica said, keeping her eyes focused on the messages she flipped through even though she wasn't reading one word that had been written. “Weird.”

“He even came in one day and dropped off a package for you. That was beyond weird because he'd just called, like, two hours ago and then he shows up.”

Monica lifted her head. “He was here?” she asked slowly. He'd been in her house and now he'd been to her office. She had to put a stop to this.

Adonna nodded. “I told him I don't know how many times that I didn't know when you were returning or where you'd gone. Finally I had to call Karena. I hope you don't mind.”

“No. Don't worry about it, Adonna. I'll handle him.”

“So you do know him? I wasn't sure since he's not in your contacts. Karena didn't seem to know him so I was almost positive he wasn't some long-lost relative.”

Adonna could talk for hours, this Monica already knew and didn't appreciate on a normal day. Today, with her head throbbing, her eyes feeling scratchy from getting zero sleep last night and her stomach growling, Monica couldn't stand it at all.

“Adonna,” she said, trying valiantly not to yell and risk splitting her head right in two, “it's all right. I'll take care of Mr. Hinton. If he calls again, put him through.”

“Oh, okay, Ms. Lakefield.”

“I'll take these messages and start making callbacks. Can you order me a tuna on wheat toast with lettuce and a diet soda?”

“Sure, no problem.”

That was a lie, Monica thought as she moved to her office. Her life was full of problems. One of which she was getting ready to confront.

Now, ten minutes later she was still sitting in the exact same spot she'd fallen into the moment she saw the box.

She should just open it, see what it was then throw it out, just like she'd done with the rabbit. Or rather, like Karena did with the rabbit last night.

“To hell with this,” she said, picking up the box and dropping it into the trash can beside her desk. It didn't fit and the box and the trash can fell over.

She cursed just as Adonna buzzed into her office.

“Yes?” she answered tersely.

“Yates Hinton on line two.”

Monica froze. Bent over, arms extended, hands reaching for the trash can and the box. “Fine. I'll take it,” she replied.

As she sat up in her chair she took a deep, steadying breath and looked at the phone. One of her lines blinked red. On, off, on, off. It was Yates Hinton. The man she had thought she loved and knew now that she hated.

She reached out, grabbed the receiver and punched the button next to the blinking light.

“Monica Lakefield,” she said in her coolest businesslike voice.

“It's so nice to hear your voice again, Bunny.”

She couldn't say the same to him. It wasn't nice to
hear him again. It was eerie and inappropriate and just damned irritating.

“What do you want, Yates?” she asked simply. There was no need for niceties.

“I want what I've always wanted. You.”

“That's over and done with. Can I do something else for you?”

“Did you like the gift I left at your house?”

“Breaking and entering is so unlike you. I thought you Southerners were bred with better manners.”

“I delivered one to your office, too. Have you opened it yet?”

“No,” she said then felt a chill ripple down her spine.

“I don't want any gifts from you, Yates. And while we're on the subject, you can stop calling my office. We have nothing to talk about.”

“But you're wrong. We have lots to talk about,” Yates said seriously.

“Like what?”

“Like that man you're seeing.”

Her heart thumped and Monica swallowed. She rested her elbows on the desk, held the phone with one hand and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. “I'm not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, but you are. And I know who he is.”

She didn't say a word.

“Do you remember what I told you before you left South Carolina, Bunny?”

She was shaking her head but didn't speak.

“I told you I'd kill you before seeing you with anyone else.”

“Yates,” she said, her voice an achy croak.

“The thought of him putting his hands on you has
made me sick these past couple of days. I can't eat or sleep from wanting to rip his throat out.”

His voice had changed, too. It was high-pitched and the Southern drawl was all but lost. He sounded almost frantic.

“I don't owe you any explanations. Why don't you just go home to your wife?”

“Don't do that, Bunny. Don't try to bring her into this. Roslyn has nothing to do with us.”

“There is no us, Yates. Remember? Because there is a Roslyn. You were married the entire time we were together. You lied to me and you hurt me.”

“It wasn't intentional. I told you that.”

“I don't give a damn what you told me. You lied and you betrayed me. So I don't have anything else to say to you. Ever!”

Monica slammed the phone down and sat back in her chair. It rolled a little with the action and she let her arms fall to her lap. “Dammit. Dammit. Dammit!” she screamed then kicked the box until it skittered across the floor and slammed into the wall.

A
lex heard the noise as he lifted his hand to knock on Monica's office door. So instead of knocking he opened the door and walked inside, only to stop just short of a rolling trash can coming his way. He dropped a foot down on the runaway trash can, stopping it in its trek.

“Hello,” he said, looking at Monica with a half smile. “Having a bad day?”

“Wondering why I was in such a rush to come back from Aspen,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

Alex closed the door, picked up the trash can and walked toward her desk. He put the trash can down beside it and continued to where Monica was sitting, turning the chair so that she could face him.

“Tell me what's going on, Queen.”

“Please, Alex, not today. My name is Monica.”

She sighed and looked everywhere but at him. Alex
stood up, slipped his hands into his pockets and continued to stare at her.

“The way I see it is you can voluntarily tell me about this Yates Hinton and why he's sending you gifts you obviously don't want and calling you like it's a life-or-death emergency. Or I can keep digging until I find out what I need to know to get this fool out of your life.”

Despite Sam's warning Alex knew how best to deal with Monica. She would definitely detest him investigating behind her back. But telling her up front what his intentions were and giving her the opportunity to tell him herself to back off would allow her to feel as if she still had some control. Even though he had no intention of listening to her about not getting involved. She was a part of his life now, a more important part than he'd thought just a few weeks ago. So she was going to have to deal with his interfering just like the rest of the people in his life that he loved.

“Karena has a big mouth,” she said. She tried to stand, but he wouldn't move out of her way so they ended up closer than she probably wanted.

“Not Karena. Sam. When I told him about our issues in Aspen he told me about the guy desperately trying to get in contact with you back here. It's logical to put two and two together.”

“It's logical to let me handle my own life,” she said, using her palms to push against his chest in an attempt to move him.

But Alex wasn't going to be moved. He grabbed both her wrists and when she struggled he simply lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles.

“We all need help sometimes. If this was one of your
sisters you'd be doing exactly what I'm doing. So calm down and tell me about this guy so I can help.”

Her lips pressed together so tightly Alex thought they'd remain that way. Damn, she was one beautiful woman, especially when she was angry.

“You can't help. Even if I tell you he's a past mistake, the biggest one of my life, there's nothing you can do to stop his current harassment.”

Okay, at least she wasn't pushing back at him anymore. “Why's he harassing you now? Does he want you back?”

“He never wanted me to leave.”

And that statement had Alex battling an array of emotions—jealousy, anger, fury.

“So why did you leave him?”

He let her pull her arms away from him and she sat back down in the chair. “Because he was married.”

Alex sat on the edge of her desk. “Did you know this when you started seeing him?”

“Of course not!” she retorted, looking at him as if he should have known that.

“I apologize. I knew the answer here,” he said, touching a hand over his heart, “but needed to hear it anyway.”

“It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago.”

“When you were in college?”

“Yes.”

“He went to school with you?”

“He taught at the college. We started seeing each other then I found out he was married and ended it. Case closed,” she said with finality.

“For you but not for him.”

“I don't give a damn what he thinks, Alex. I told him
back then that I didn't want to have anything more to do with him and I just told him again a few minutes before you walked in. It's over and that's that.”

But Hinton obviously didn't feel that way. And, as it went with stalkers, her telling Yates to stop wasn't going to be enough to keep the guy away. Alex kept that tidbit of info to himself.

“Have you had lunch?”

She blinked at him then sighed. “Adonna ordered me a sandwich.”

He nodded. “Then I'll stay while you eat then you can show me around your gallery.”

“Alex, I have a lot of catching up to do today.”

He raised a brow. “My mother loves art. My brother is a sculptor. Do you really want to deny me a tour?”

One elegantly arched eyebrow lifted as she asked, “Using your family name and connections to get what you want, Mr. Bennett?”

Alex shrugged. “By any means necessary.”

She smiled and all the anger and jealousy inside Alex melted away. This was what it was all about, Monica's happiness. Whatever he had to do to guarantee that he would, regardless of what she or anyone else said.

 

“And this is where I'd like to feature your brother Lorenzo,” Monica was saying as she and Alex entered the first-floor alcove, which housed the more risqué pieces.

“Warning—if you call him Lorenzo you're never going to get him to show his pieces here,” Alex said as he walked around the room. “It's kind of small in here.”

“That's because we haven't secured Renny's pieces yet. Once we do we plan to merge this room with the
two on either side to accommodate a larger showing. We'd also have a special event announcing his work is here. He's picked up a huge following in the last two years and the Lakefield Galleries would like to show our support for him, as well.”

Alex nodded. He was looking at an oil painting of two lovers, African-American, on a white backdrop. The bodies were nude on a red couch, the position explicit and alluring, tasteful in a sensual way and enticingly erotic. Secretly, it was one of Monica's favorites. Judging by the way Alex was staring at it, he was enjoying it, too.

“That's by an artist named Zune. He's fantastic with oils,” she told him.

Alex nodded. “He's fantastic, all right. This is one realistic portrait.”

Was it hot in here? Or had the deepening of Alex's voice simply jacked the heat up?

She cleared her throat. “You like it?”

He turned to her. “I do. You like it, Monica?”

He'd used her name and not Queen as he usually referred to her. She licked her lips and concentrated on keeping her eyes trained on his.

“I do.”

Alex took a step closer to her, touching the palm of his hand to her cheek. “What do you like about it?”

Monica's nipples tingled beneath the thin coral camisole she wore beneath her black suit jacket. “I like the imagery, the way he uses stark colors to portray the sensual air in the room. Sometimes an artist will use dark colors to portray romance and sexuality. But Zune goes for the opposite, the bright to accentuate the obvious. It's fantastic.”

“You accentuate the obvious,” he said, his thumb brushing over her gloss-coated lips.

“We were talking about the painting,” she said. As she opened her mouth to speak her tongue swiped the pad of his thumb.

His eyes darkened, lust clearly taking hold. With his free hand he pulled her to him. “I'm talking about you and I creating our own erotic scene.”

“Alex, I'm at work,” she said breathlessly.

“Queen, I'm falling in love with you,” he whispered before his lips touched hers, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss.

She loved his kisses, absolutely craved them when he wasn't around. Who would have known a man could kiss like this, in a way that had her knees going weak and her center pulsating. As her eyes closed she saw clearly the erotic scene they could create, whether on a kitchen counter, in a bathtub full of bubbles or in a hotel room. It was like fire with them. Fire in the midst of winter, kisses that heated, devoured and destroyed.

“Monica!” The stern voice broke their contact instantly.

Monica knew that voice and she knew the person it belonged to was beyond pissed. Turning slowly, she faced her father, Paul Lakefield.

 

“If you have a moment to spare from your…activities,” Paul Lakefield said in the stern way he was used to talking, “I would like you to explain this package I just received.”

Straightening her back the way she always seemed to do when confronted, Monica cleared her throat. “Hello,
Dad. This is Alexander Bennett of Bennett Industries. You know, the communications—”

Paul cut her off. “I know all about Bennett Industries. Marvin and I have been longtime business associates. It's nice to meet the son who'll be taking his place as head of the company soon. I can only hope you have your father's dedication to the business,” Paul said, extending a hand to Alex but giving him a less than confident look.

Alex smiled and reached for Mr. Lakefield's hand. He knew of Paul Lakefield, as well, from both his father's mention of the man and Sam and Max's briefing about the father. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I can assure you that Bennett Industries will be in good hands when I take over. Monica was just showing me your gallery. It's a great collection of art, sir.”

“Never mind what my daughter was showing you, Mr. Bennett. We have a private matter to discuss, so if you'll excuse us.”

“You can say what you have to say in front of Alex,” Monica intervened to Alex's pleasure and surprise.

“I said it's private,” Paul insisted.

Alex reached for Monica's hand. She laced her fingers through his in a show of solidarity. “Alex is a personal friend, Dad. It's okay to talk around him.”

A personal friend. Alex figured that was better than nothing at all. Would he have liked for her to say he was her man, her lover or something of that nature? Sure. But that would be pushing Monica too fast, too soon. He'd accept what he could get, for now.

“Fine. What is this?” Paul asked, thrusting an envelope toward Monica.

She reached for it and pulled out the contents. Her
gasp had Alex holding her hand even tighter as he looked over to see what she'd seen.

They were pictures of a much younger Monica, a much happier one, walking hand in hand with a man. Instinct told Alex this was Yates Hinton but he remained silent.

“Where did you get these?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“They were delivered to me just about a half hour ago, along with some sort of threat against the gallery,” Paul replied.

“What type of threat?” Alex asked.

“The letter asks for Monica's resignation from the gallery because of moral conflicts,” Paul informed them.

“What? Moral conflicts? What does that mean?” She'd leaned into Alex, probably inadvertently, but he was glad he was there to support her.

Paul frowned. “I was hoping you could explain that, Monica. What have you done?”

“Me?” she asked incredulously. “I haven't done anything except work my butt off for this gallery, for the Lakefield name. You know that's all I've done since I came back from college, Dad.”

“Obviously you were doing something else while you were at college,” Paul retorted.

Alex took the envelope and its contents out of Monica's hands. The pictures went from innocent walks to candlelight dinners, to a bedroom shot that could have been hanging on the wall right next to these other erotic paintings. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he reigned in his anger and strived for calm. Getting angry was not
going to help deal with Mr. Lakefield, who was already plenty pissed off.

“This man has been harassing Monica, Mr. Lakefield. He's sending her unwanted gifts, calling her repeatedly making idle threats. This looks like he's trying to step up his game.”

“And what game would that be, Mr. Bennett?” Paul asked, dragging his angry gaze from Monica to the man standing beside her.

“He's trying to intimidate her into coming back to him.”

“Oh, God, why won't this go away?” Monica sighed. “It was years ago. I've moved on. He should, too.”

But she hadn't moved on, not really. Alex knew that and he suspected Monica did, too, but now was neither the time nor place to discuss that.

“You were intimate with this man. So what? You broke up and he's still holding on. I understand that but how does that relate to a morality issue?” Paul inquired.

Alex didn't answer. It was Monica's story to tell, not his, even though he'd already been given a quick synopsis of what was going on in this chapter of the story.

“He was married when I was seeing him,” she replied in a surprisingly strong and level voice, as if she dared her father to cast blame on her.

Paul sighed, running a hand down his face. It was then that Alex saw something he suspected Monica couldn't see. Her father was worried. He was angry about the pictures and the threat on the gallery—no matter how frivolous and inappropriate—and he was also worried about his child.

“Did you know?”

Monica sighed again. “I guess everybody who finds
out is going to ask me that question. No, I didn't know he was married. When I found out I ended it. But he's not letting go.”

“It's been years since you left South Carolina—why is he surfacing now?” was Paul's next question.

Alex waited for that answer, as well.

“He thinks I'm seeing someone else.”

Paul looked to Alex, who looked to Monica, wishing she'd told him this before.

“And he doesn't want you seeing anyone else, even though he's still married? Dumbass games men play,” Paul said.

“It doesn't matter, Dad. I told him it was over between us. I told him not to bother me anymore.”

“And yet he sent these to me anyway. He's threatening to slander the gallery's name, to contact all our contributors, our artists, to attack our credibility in the art world.”