Secret Agenda

He'd been instructed to follow Congressman Gregory and report back when he was alone. If the men who were hired to take out Sean Gregory didn't find what they were looking for on him, then it was up to McGhie to break into the congressman's home and search for the little book that could become a huge political scandal.

James sat in a well-worn recliner watching CNN, while enjoying his second beer after several helpings of his mother's delicious lamb stew. He'd stopped off to have dinner with her, leaving with enough plastic containers filled with leftovers to last him for several days, before retreating to his sanctuary—a furnished studio apartment in a middle-class D.C. neighborhood.

He turned up the volume on the remote when the program he had been watching was interrupted for a breaking news story. An obviously grief-stricken Speaker of the House announced that Connecticut Congressman Sean Gregory had succumbed to injuries he'd sustained in a hit-and-run earlier that morning as he'd stepped out of his car only yards from his Georgetown residence.

The camera shifted to a scene outside the town house where the media, police, the crime scene unit and a crowd of onlookers had gathered. The television reporter announced that the late congressman's wife, who'd flown in from Stamford, Connecticut to attend a fund-raiser, was unaware that her husband had been fatally injured until she arrived at their home. A spokesperson for the Gregory family reported Vivienne Gregory was too distraught to talk to the press.

Cursing under his breath, James pressed a button on the remote and turned off the television. Vivienne Gregory's decision to make a visit to D.C. had changed everything. His cell phone rang seconds later and he answered it before the third ring.

“Yeah,” he drawled, dispensing with any pretense of being polite. While he detested the man who'd paid him to do his dirty work, it was his voice that he hated even more.

“He didn't have the book on him, and with the little wife in town it means that you have to figure out another way to get into—”

“I know it changes everything,” he said testily, interrupting the caller on the other line. The man who he took his orders from had messed up—big-time! In his attempt to eliminate the popular congressman they'd forgotten about his wife. They were lucky if Gregory took what he knew to his grave. If not, then whatever Gregory had uncovered was certain to rock Capitol Hill to its venerable core.

The young woman who'd befriended Gregory's chief-of-staff had told James that the congressman carried a small leather-bound notebook at all times—a notebook James's boss suspected contained the names of other congressional members who'd received kickbacks on government contracts in their districts. Another source at the Justice Department revealed that Gregory had requested and had been given immunity if he informed on those “on the take.”

The well-orchestrated hit-and-run had eliminated Sean Gregory, but finding the snitch's little black book was now a priority for James McGhie. After the police completed their investigation, he would have to break into the town house, look for the book and then leave without a trace.

Chapter 1

Six months later…

“You'd be perfect for the position as Diego Cole-Thomas's personal assistant, Viv.”

Vivienne Neal stared intently at her old college roommate, her expression impassive. Alicia Cooney was the only person she let call her Viv. To everyone else she was Vivienne. Suddenly a smile began to curl around Vivienne's mouth, her lips parting and displaying a set of perfectly aligned white teeth. “That's what you said about my last interview, which I'm embarrassed to say was a miserable failure.”

Alicia's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen her friend smile in the two months since Vivienne had moved to Florida. Vivienne's expression softened, revealing her delicate features, cinnamon-brown complexion, a round face with high cheekbones, a delicate chin, sensual mouth and tawny-colored eyes that had a slightly startled look.

“It wasn't because you weren't qualified. The wife of your potential employer saw you as a threat. The difference here is Diego Cole-Thomas doesn't have a wife.”

Vivienne's smiled vanished quickly. “I am not a home wrecker. And if that had been my intent, I certainly wouldn't have been with a man who's more than twice my age.”

“Charles Willingham isn't your average run-of-the-mill, thrice-married, sixty-nine-year-old letch. I heard somewhere that he likes to pinch his female employees' behinds. He gets away with it because if they complain, he either pays them off or he marries them. It helps that he's one of the wealthiest men on Florida's Gold Coast.”

Vivienne waved a hand. “I didn't let him get close enough to touch me and I could care less about his money.”

Alicia rolled her vivid emerald-green eyes upward. “That's because you never had to concern yourself with money, unlike me who grew up dirt-poor. If I hadn't been blessed with brains and this face and body,” she drawled while waving her hand in front of her chest, “I'd still be slinging hash in a diner like my sisters, mother and grandmother. Luckily, I learned early on how to capitalize on my assets,” Alicia continued, so matter-of-factly that Vivienne knew it wasn't a boast.

She smiled again. Alicia had used her brains and her physical assets to her advantage when she attended college on full scholarship and succeeded in marrying a first-round NBA draft pick. Petite, blond, green-eyed Alicia Cooney had caught the eye of Rhames Tyson during freshman orientation, and dated him exclusively throughout college much to the consternation of many of the African-American coeds. A week before graduation, Rhames signed a multimillion-dollar contract with a California pro basketball team, when Alicia informed him that she was pregnant with his child.

Vivienne was Alicia's maid of honor in a wedding that became a media spectacle. But Alicia's Cinderella marriage ended when her husband insisted on driving—although his blood alcohol level exceeded the legal limit—totaling his six-figure import. He also shattered both knees, which ended his pro ball career. Alicia lost the baby and Vivienne invited her friend to stay with her and recuperate from the physical and emotional injuries. Less than a year after exchanging vows, Alicia filed for divorce, moved to Florida and set up an executive staffing agency.

Now, their situations were reversed. After losing Sean, Vivienne decided to list their mausoleum of a house in an exclusive, upscale gated community in Stamford, Connecticut with a real estate agent. She put the contents of the house in storage and moved to West Palm Beach, Florida, to stay with Alicia until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Her parents had wanted her to move in with them, but at thirty-one she didn't want to be treated like a child again. She'd fought too hard for her independence to now relinquish it to her overbearing mother.

She ran a hand over her straightened dark-brown hair with reddish highlights. It was longer than it had been in years. Sean had been dead six months and she had to pull herself out of her funk.

“Tell me about Diego Cole-Thomas before I agree to an interview.”

Alicia crossed her bare feet at the ankles as she lay back on the cushioned chaise on the lanai. “I happen to know him better than most of my clients,” she began.

“You've dated him?” Vivienne asked.

“I wish,” Alicia countered. “Unfortunately our interaction has always been professional. His company's HR will usually contact me whenever they're looking to fill a position. I'm surprised they contacted me again, because you'll be the third applicant I've referred to ColeDiz International over the past four months.”

Vivienne's gaze narrowed. “What happened to the other two?”

“One lasted about a week before Diego sent her packing and the other lasted a month before he was terminated. Both were supposed to be on call, but whenever he needed them they either were unavailable or didn't know how to organize his social and business schedule.”

“And, what makes you think I'll be more successful than the other two?”

“You were the wife of a congressman so you're familiar with the demands of a high-powered man. Plus you have a business background and you're also bilingual. The position is for six months and pays extremely well. You won't…” Alicia's words trailed off as she averted her gaze to stare at a tiny lizard crawling up the screen.

“I won't what?” Vivienne asked, leaning forward on her lounger.

“You'll have to make yourself available 24/7. Diego's an international businessman, so if he's up at two in the morning talking to someone on the other side of the world he may need his assistant to be available, too.”

“So, I'd become a live-in personal assistant?”

“Yes,” Alicia said after a long pause. “I'm certain he'll hire you because you're confident and assertive. He fired the first applicant because she locked herself in the ladies' room, and refused to come out after he'd reprimanded her.”

Vivienne knew her friend made a living from the fees clients paid Alicia's placement agency. But lately, Vivienne found herself tired of sleeping late and hanging around the pool bemoaning the turn her life had taken. No one other than her attorney knew at the time of her husband's death that she'd planned to divorce Sean Gregory anyway. She'd told the reporter who'd managed to get around the police barricade that she'd come to Washington to attend a fund-raiser with Sean. But, the truth was she'd come to tell her husband that her attorney had filed documents to end their four-year sham of a marriage.

She sat up. “Set up the interview, Alicia.”

“Yes,” Alicia whispered as she pumped her fist in the air. Her company had grown from placing nannies and au pairs with wealthy couples who were either too lazy or disinclined to care for their own children, to providing executive and support staff for several Florida-based companies, of which ColeDiz International Ltd. was one.

When she'd heard that her friend had lost her husband, she hadn't hesitated when she booked a flight to Connecticut to be with Vivienne. The public viewed Vivienne Gregory as the beautiful grieving widow of one of Washington's young rising stars. But it wasn't the loss of her husband Vivienne grieved most, but that of a marriage that'd ended before it had a chance to begin. She'd been a political widow four years before she legally became one.

Diego Cole-Thomas closed the shades to shut out the blinding rays of the summer sun before taking his seat at a round table in the anteroom of his office with his cousin and confidant. He'd asked Joseph Cole-Wilson Jr. to meet with him over breakfast because he wanted to discuss a venture that was certain to change the family-owned conglomerate forever.

Diego had celebrated his first year as CEO in April, and it'd taken twelve months to gain the complete confidence of his employees, managers and board of directors to move the company in another direction. Diego's great-grandfather, Samuel Claridge Cole, had set up the company in 1925, and more than eighty years later not much had changed. The board of directors was expanded to include nonfamily members, but every CEO was a direct descendant of Samuel Cole. Martin and David, sons of Samuel, held the position before Diego's father Timothy Cole-Thomas took over the helm. He was now the fourth generation and fifth chief executive officer of a company with holdings that included coffee plantations in Mexico, Jamaica, Puerto Rico and Brazil, vacation properties throughout the Caribbean and banana plantations in Belize.

His first action upon assuming control was to become a cotton broker. He paid cash on delivery to a Ugandan cotton grower, making ColeDiz the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the United States.

Ignoring the cup of coffee next to him, Diego stared at Joseph. He knew his cousin was still smarting because he'd requested the eight o'clock meeting the day the corporate attorney was scheduled to begin a two-week vacation with his longtime girlfriend.

“What I want to tell you will not take much of your time.”

“Gracias, primo,” Joseph whispered in Spanish under his breath.

A slight frown was the only indication of Diego's annoyance with his younger cousin for the unsolicited aside. He'd brought the twenty-eight-year-old into the company, but after five months Joseph still hadn't shown any initiative. If their grandmothers hadn't been sisters, Diego would've fired him his first week on the job.

Even though his last name was Wilson, Joseph's looks were undeniably Cole. He'd inherited Marguerite-Josefina Diaz-Cole, his Cuban-born great-grandmother's, olive coloring and refined features. His close-cropped curly black hair, large dark eyes and sensual mouth had many of the single female employees openly lusting after him. However, once word got out that he was dating a girl he'd met in law school, a collective groan could be heard from his admirers.

“I wanted to tell you before you leave that ColeDiz will establish its first American-based company before the end of the year.”

Joseph sat forward in his chair. “What about the coffee plantation in Lares, Puerto Rico?”