Lethal Exposure

Where’s the harm in lunch? She was being nudged by the part of herself that hungered for excitement and the thrill of something new.

“Jules?” Elle said. “You okay?”

“Huh?” She blinked, realized her friend had said something to her and she hadn’t even heard it.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again.” Elle put a hand on Julie’s arm. “Remember how long it took you to get over Roger?”

Way too long. That was why she needed someone new, someone fresh, someone fun, someone like Sebastian.

She met Elle’s gaze. “I do appreciate your concern. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Vanessa grinned. “Make sure to pick up some condoms. Ribbed, for your pleasure.”

Julie’s mouth went dry. Maybe she wasn’t up for this after all.

“Please, make sure not to romanticize him. He’s just a guy,” Elle said.

“Like Dante was just a guy?” Julie asked, referring to Elle’s new husband, Dr. Dante Nash, who’d been undercover for the FBI when he’d busted Elle’s ex-husband, Mark Lawson.

“That’s different,” Elle said hastily. “I had to learn how to be romantic. You’re trying to learn not to be so romantic. You’re the one with unrealistic ideas about love.”

True enough. Julie sucked in her breath as she thought about Sebastian. Just remembering his dark, curly hair had her fingers tingling to run through those thick locks. The core of her sex tightened. Her body wanted him, no question about that.

But was she brave enough to step on the accelerator and change lanes? Did she have what it took for a wild, adventuresome fling? Could she really forsake her romantic nature, learn how to have sex for sex’s sake and leave love out of the equation?

Chapter 3

FOLLOWING HIS DINNER meeting with Confidential Rejuvenations’ co-owners, Sebastian holed up in the presidential suite Blanche had reserved for him in Austin’s most luxurious private hotel. The meeting had gone well, but he felt unaccountably edgy.

After stripping off his suit jacket and tie, he tossed them on the bed, then moved to pull the draperies that revealed a sliding glass door. Sebastian unlatched the lock and stepped out on the balcony that overlooked the Colorado River.

City lights twinkled below. He heard the sound of traffic and somewhere in the distance an outdoor band was playing so loudly the music drifted up to the tenth floor. He caught a whiff of exhaust fumes mingled with the spicy scent of cumin, onions, garlic and chili powder from the hotel’s Mexican restaurant.

He leaned over the railing, drummed his fingers on the cool metal and wondered why he was so keyed up.

The feeling was more than his usual fast-paced, get-the-job-done eagerness. There was a strange and new underlying restlessness. He kept thinking about Julie DeMarco and their odd encounter in the Confidential Rejuvenations’ exam room. Something about her made him feel…

What?

He couldn’t express what he was feeling. He only knew this agitated sensation wasn’t normal. Had it started with her? Or did it lead back to this morning when Linc told him he was getting married and leaving the firm?

You’re kidding yourself if you think it’s just a reaction to Linc’s news.

Every time he thought about Julie his insides knotted up. She was small-boned and delicate and ultrafeminine and pretty to a point. But her cheeks were just a little too round to be perfect, her chin a little too sharp. She had a crooked front tooth that shouldn’t have been cute, but it was.

No, Julie wasn’t the kind of woman who immediately turned male heads when she swayed into a room, but definitely once she smiled, she’d be noticed. She was also the kind of woman that could intimidate most commitment-phobic men simply by blinking those honest big baby blues.

Somehow she’d gotten to him.

Sebastian thought about the promise he’d made himself that morning. He’d vowed to seduce the first appropriate female who crossed his path. Well, Julie was certainly appropriate and he definitely wanted her, yet suddenly, seducing her seemed too cavalier.

Too cruel.

Like hunting Bambi with a bazooka.

You don’t have to seduce her. Tomorrow’s lunch could simply be lunch. Forget ulterior motives. Just interview her for behind-the-scenes info at Confidential Rejuvenations and let it go at that.

Good advice.

He had to stop thinking about her and the only way to do that was to get to work. It was 9:00 p.m. in Austin, but he was on California time. He stepped back from the balcony, pulled the sliding glass door closed and headed to the briefcase he’d dropped by the front door.

After he took out the Confidential Rejuvenations file, he sank down at the desk chair to flip through it. On top was a slick brochure printed on the finest paper money could buy. It showed the colloquial architecture of the hospital that made it look like a spa resort. That was the general idea—it was a healing center as opposed to a medical facility.

He’d been there in person. The brochure didn’t lie. At least not about the appearance of the place. The lush green lawns were perfectly clipped, as were the bountiful privacy hedges. Ivy-twined trellises shaded genteel park benches. The profusion of fall flowers in full bloom testified to the exemplary gardening skills of the groundskeepers. A luxurious flagstone walkway led to the front entrance in one direction, while the other fork winded its way to an elaborate hand-carved gazebo positioned on a bluff above the river’s sensuous curve.

What the brochure wisely didn’t reveal was beneath the serene surface, behind the healing promises made in the glossy brochure, beyond those quiet vine-covered walls, a shadowy menace lurked. Careers lay on the line. Fortunes stood to be lost. Reputations hung in the balance.

And Sebastian was the fixer. Hired to bring his particular expertise to the situation and work his magic.

Confidential Rejuvenations had been founded in 1993 by Dr. Jarrod Butler and Dr. William Covey and a famous action-movie actor who’d left Hollywood for his native Austin. Ten years later, after a bout with booze and pills, the actor had needed a return on his investment and sold out his share in Confidential Rejuvenations to a greedy young surgeon named Mark Lawson.

Several months ago, Lawson had been murdered by a mobster on the Confidential Rejuvenations’ campus in a drug deal gone bad. Not long after that, Texas state senator Robert Garcia had bought Lawson’s share in the hospital. Only to have his adopted daughter, Chloe—who’d been a scrub nurse at the facility—try to murder Confidential Rejuvenations’ head of security, Tanner Doyle. Although the police had ruled that Lawson’s death and the attempt on Doyle’s life were not connected to the other occurrences, it remained a PR nightmare.

From the very day Confidential Rejuvenations had opened its doors, there had been rumors, speculation and gossip. It did, after all, cater to the rich and famous. It was a place where the crème de la crème revealed their inner secrets, exposed their vulnerabilities and sought to escape their problems. Unlike most hospitals, Confidential Rejuvenations’ specialties were designed to fit the lifestyles of an elite clientele.

Sebastian flipped the page, reading about the services offered. Innovative cosmetic surgery, cutting-edge antiaging therapy, pioneer treatment in obsessive-compulsive disorders, state-of-the-art substance abuse facilities and revolutionary sexual dysfunction remedies.

Sexual dysfunction.

The unit where Julie DeMarco worked.

He pushed aside that thought and the unexpected sexual stirring that came with it.

After reviewing the entire file and further brushing up on the problems plaguing Confidential Rejuvenations in recent months, he opened his laptop and began compiling a plan of action into the PR software he’d invented.

What he hoped to accomplish was not just information gathering to spark innovative ideas for his PR campaign, but to snoop around and see if he could discover who was behind the sabotage.

He was just cocky enough to think he might succeed where law enforcement and hospital security had failed. People didn’t open up to cops and security guards. On that score, his charm stood him in good stead. He had no trouble coaxing people into spilling their secrets.

Idly, he wondered what secrets Julie DeMarco hid behind those sweet, guileless blue eyes. He’d discovered that everyone had secrets, even the most innocent.

Sebastian was deep in the middle of his media campaign plan when his computer played a snippet from the Bond movie theme song “For Your Eyes Only,” letting him know he had an instant message from Blanche.

He flicked a switch and turned on his Internet camera for a video conference. Blanche was sitting at her desk, looking prim and proper in a double-breasted fawn-colored suit, her iron-gray curls perfectly coiffed.

“How’s Austin?” she asked.

“Fine. Watcha still doing at the office?”