Kate hadn’t opened the red envelope since she’d received it thirty-six hours ago. She had switched her hotel room within ten minutes of getting the envelope, and booked a room for the next night at the hotel where the gala was to be held. There was no way she was going to sleep one more night in a room where her stalker had been.

Just open it, for Christ’s sake.

Kate’s hand slipped into her large purse, which also served as her work bag today, and she felt the envelope in her hand.

As she exited the revolving doors of the hotel and stepped out onto the sidewalk, she released the envelope. She couldn’t do it. Maybe if she didn’t open it, she could continue to work as though there was no danger.

She would keep telling herself that, at least.

She startled at the sound of the high-pitched ring that blared from her purse. “This is Kate,” she answered after retrieving her phone.

“Hey, you coming into the office today?” Julia asked.

“Walking there now. I finished with the designer at the hotel.”

“Perfect. Michael is back from New York, and he’s asking for you.”

Kate slowed down her pace, worried if everything was okay. “Oh really? Does he want to check in on our progress?” Or fire me for turning him down?

“I have no idea. Just head on over to his office when you get here. See you in a bit.”

Kate tossed her phone back into her bag, thoughts of the envelope far from her mind now.

Michael. He was all that was in her head.

When she got to the office, she nodded and smiled at Cindy, then started for Michael’s room.

Julia’s office was empty, giving her no reason to stall now.

She toyed with the strap of her bag as she forced her black pumps to move, one step at a time.

When she arrived at his door, she popped her head in to say hello, but her mouth closed when she saw he wasn’t alone. He was sitting on his couch next to an auburn-haired woman. His hand rested on her shoulder, and the woman’s gaze was cast down.

Kate took a step back, attempting to duck away before Michael saw her, but it was too late. His eyes captured hers, and he gave her a slight shake of the head.

She put her hand up, motioning that she’d catch him later and quickly left. It was obvious she had come at a bad time.

“Kate,” Julia called out on approach.

“Hey, I was going to set up shop in your conference room. Is that okay?” Kate pointed to the room that adjoined Julia’s office.

“Of course. I was hoping to catch you before you saw Michael, anyways. He got a visitor right after we hung up, but I’m sure he’ll find you after.”

“Sure.”

“You okay?” Julia arched a brow.

Kate shrugged her purse off her shoulder and allowed it to drop to the ground. “Yeah, just a little tired. I’ve been working like crazy on this gala.” It wasn’t a total lie.

Julia smiled. “Thank you. I’m so grateful.” She sat down at the conference room table and folded her hands. “I have great news. I followed your advice, and I have a special guest speaker for the ball.”

“That’s awesome.” Kate started to sit but seeing Michael through the glass wall caught her off guard. He was walking down the hall next to the redhead, his hand on the small of her back. He managed to avoid looking into the conference room, and Kate forced herself not to overthink anything. Besides, what did it matter? She’d said no to Michael the other night. What difference did it make to her who he dated—or whatever he did with women . . .

Julia cleared her voice, which had Kate glancing over at her.

“Maybe we could order some lunch to the office while we work? I’m starved—my treat.”

“Let’s go grab some food instead. I know a great place,” Julia said.

Kate nodded. Hell, Julia’s idea was a lot better. She’d been in the building for five minutes but suddenly felt like she was suffocating.

She kneeled down to grab her purse off the floor, but a large hand beat her to it. She followed the black dress shoes to slacks, which stretched all the way up to a trim waist. She inhaled as she straightened, taking in with her his cologne and the smell of clean linen.

“On your way out?” Michael asked, handing Kate her bag.

“We’re going to lunch.” Julia looked at her brother. “Care to join us?”

“Sure. I’m always hungry for something good to eat.” The way Michael’s eyes traveled the length of her body before settling on her face made her buzz to life with excitement. Her body betrayed her as her nipples hardened beneath her silk blouse. She prayed her bra was thick enough to cover her sudden arousal.

“Michael? Kate? You two ready?” Julia asked.

Michael tilted his head and wet his lips. Was he teasing her? He was, wasn’t he? “Yes, I’m ready.” She swallowed. “Are you?” she asked Michael in a faint voice, frustrated that this man was intentionally trying to get a rise out of her—even after he’d just walked in front of her with another woman. Of course, Kate had no idea who the redhead was—but with his reputation what else could she think?

“I’m more than ready,” Michael said in a low voice. His words were like satin, wrapping around her every limb—and she hated that he was able to create such an intense reaction within her so easily.

Kate diverted her attention, unable to look at Michael any longer without giving herself away.

Once they all entered the elevator, she stared down at her heels and clutched her bag with both hands, hanging onto it like a lifeline.

“Is Mexican okay?” Julia asked as they stepped out into the lobby.

“Yeah, I love anything with spice.” Kate spotted a quirk in Michael’s lips as he held the door open for them.

The restaurant was around the corner in one of the most popular areas of Uptown Charlotte. They sat at a round table out front, and Kate found herself too close to Michael, even though they were across the table from each other. Anywhere within eyesight of the man was too close, though.

Kate quickly looked at her menu, pretending to have no idea what she wanted, buying herself some time before she’d have to get lost in his blue eyes again. She’d decided on their color, anyway.

Navy blue. For today, at least. It depended on what he was wearing tomorrow as to what shade she’d get lost in.

“So, how was New York?” Kate asked and stole a look at him above her menu.

“It was fine. But what I’m really interested in is to find out how the planning is coming along.”

“Bullshit,” Julia said almost immediately and reached over and slapped her brother’s chest. “Don’t be an ass.”

He reached for his collar, popped open the top button—tie already removed—and smoothed his hand over his shirt before resting it in his lap. “No, seriously. I’ve taken an interest,” he said casually as Julia stared at him with parted lips.

“Ohh.” Julia straightened her spine and looked at Kate.

“Well, we’re wrapping up the details—fine-tuning everything,” Kate finally answered, but she was worried about what Julia was thinking right about now.

Julia’s phone began to ring a moment later, helping diffuse the awkward tension that had begun to ping-pong back and forth between Kate and Michael.

“Sorry,” Julia muttered and glanced down at the caller ID. “Shit. It’s Aiden calling.”

“That can’t be good,” Michael responded. “Why’s he calling you instead of me?”

Julia rose to her feet, gripping the phone. “Business stuff he doesn’t want to trouble you with.”

“Well, tell him to call me later, okay?”

Shit, don’t leave me alone.

Kate watched Julia walk away with the phone pressed against her ear.

“Eh, so, who is Aiden?

“A friend of mine in Boston. We invested in his pub and, apparently, Julia has been helping him out more than I realized.” Michael’s hand wrapped up around to the back of his neck, and he squeezed. A thick band of tension had cut hard between them—the man had hardened before her eyes. What is with you? Was he worried that his friend might be hooking up with his sister? Julia had said Michael was overprotective . . .

Julia returned to the table after only a minute, thank God. “Ugh. Kate, I’m so sorry, but I need to fly to Boston today. I might need to be there for a little bit.” She lifted her purse and hung the strap over her shoulder. “Don’t worry—I’ll be back in time for the gala. I’m so sorry I have to bail on you right now.”

“Why does Aiden need you in Boston? Something wrong with the pub?” Michael pressed back in his seat, worry spreading across his face.

“He’s fine, but he says he’s not business-minded, so he calls me when he needs help. It’s nothing to stress about.” Julia came over next to her brother and patted him on the shoulder. “Really, I’ve got this. You can help Kate since you’ve developed such an interest in the ball.”

“If you say so. But that also means you’re going to miss our monthly poker game again. The guys are going to be so pissed.” Michael reached beneath the table and produced his cell phone a moment later.

“Looking for my replacement so fast, huh?” Julia chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry to exit in the midst of lunch, but I need to go book a flight and pack. I’ll call you later.”

Michael looked up from his phone and nodded. “Have a safe flight.”

“We’ll be fine. No worries.” Kate hoped, at least. She gave Julia a reassuring smile and waved goodbye, then focused on Michael as he stowed his phone back into his slacks pocket. “So, Julia plays poker?” How will I survive without her?

But she didn’t have a choice. She had a job to do. Plans to carry out.

“I taught her a long time ago.”

Kate smiled as she drew up images of her own past. “I taught my kid brother to play before he went into the military.”

“You play?” He stared at her, and his lips parted. “What got you into the game?”

Kate fiddled with the drink menu. “One of my boyfriends at Harvard liked to play. He used to compete in tournaments all of the time, and so I asked him to teach me. I fell in love with the game and continued playing even after we broke up. He had a bad gambling problem that I later discovered . . . but I thought the game was fun, and I even won a couple of local events.” She sighed. “I haven’t played in years. Ever since I began running my stepmother’s business, I never have time to have fun anymore.”

“You played in tournaments?” Michael scratched at his jaw. “I’m having trouble believing that you would sit at the table with poker sharks, and—” He stopped himself and shook his head, a smile threatening his lips. “Actually, I think you must be great at the game. All you need to do is bat your eyes and smile, and the players are putty in your hands.”

“What? Can’t a girl have real poker skills? A woman has to use her looks to win?”

“No, but I—”

“I do have talent, by the way. There is no eye batting. I wear my Red Sox hat and a pair of sunglasses.”

“To hide your tells?” he taunted, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I would still be able to read you.”

Kate’s chest constricted at his words. “There’s only one way to find out.” What am I doing?

“You want to be Julia’s replacement?”

“Nah. I can’t play you. It wouldn’t be fair. I’d take all your money.” Her confidence was back. Her brain thanked her heart for allowing it to take over.

It may only last five minutes, but she’d take it.

“I think that sounds like a challenge,” he responded, the deep baritone of his voice reminding her of the dangerous turn their conversation had taken. She shouldn’t have yielded at the sign—she should have made a complete stop before a sharp U-turn.

Poker, with Michael? With Michael’s friends? Am I out of my mind? Maybe her brain wasn’t in control when she was speaking, after all. What had she been thinking? She wet her lips and reached for her water. She was stalling. She didn’t know what to say.

“Come on, don’t back out now.” He leaned forward over the table a little, trying to get her attention. “It’s tomorrow night at my friend’s loft. Starts at nine. And don’t use work as an excuse.”

Shit. Spending more time with him was definitely not part of the plan. “Okay.” Her answer surprised her as it tumbled free from her lips.

“Great.” He sat back in his chair and looked up at the outdoor entertainment system, which was nestled in the corner of the building overhang. An English translation of a Spanish love song poured through the speaker, and he directed his attention back on Kate, his eyes resting on her mouth.

With an unsteady hand, she reached for her water again, feeling the need to cool off. She forced her gaze away from him and out onto the nearby street.

The unnoticeable shakiness of her hand turned into an obvious tremble as her eyes fixated on a man sitting on a bench along the street. He was on his phone and looking at her. Blonde. Athletic. Middle-Aged. Was it the same man? The man who’d given her the chills at the club on her first night in town?

It was impossible to remember exactly what the guy had looked like. It had been dark in the club, and she hadn’t taken a close look at his face. But for some reason, the same gut-wrenching feeling was climbing its way through her system.

“Kate? You okay?”

The man was watching her. There were no flashing lights like at the club to cast doubt on his gaze. And it wasn’t the stare of a man checking out a woman. This was different. She could feel it.

She inhaled as she watched the man rise to his feet, phone still at his ear. He gave her one last look as his lips pressed together, and then he walked away.

“Kate?” Michael waved his hand in front of her face.

“Huh?” She shook her head, freeing herself from the spell of fear that sliced through her. Had she laid eyes on her stalker? If so, who the hell was he? And why was he following her?

“What happened?” Michael asked, his voice registering concern.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Sorry.” She pushed a fake smile to her lips, but she doubted he was buying it. “Just thinking about my mom.” She noticed his body ease and grow less rigid.

“Oh. Sorry.”

The waiter appeared at their side. Thank God. He couldn’t have come at a better time.

* * *

The red envelope sat on her hotel bed, taunting her—again. She rubbed her hands together, balling them into fists, hoping to calm her nerves and release her tension.

Kate looked at her watch. It was almost eleven at night.

She had decided to head back to her hotel after lunch with Michael. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid he would sense her worry, or afraid he would sense the desire she couldn’t seem to curtail.

She’d told Michael some lame excuse about needing to bounce around the city and run errands tomorrow so she wouldn’t have to see him until the poker game. Avoidance—her only way to stifle her bodies’ craving of the man. Sex would be good with him, though, wouldn’t it? More than good, she was sure.

She blew a hair out of her face and looked back at the blood red envelope.

Blood . . . Jesus Christ.

Yeah, maybe she should’ve been more worried about some creep following her—wanting to kill her, or whatnot, instead of fixating on Michael’s ass or the sound of his deep voice.

“Just do it.” She unclenched her fists and reached for the envelope. She held her breath as she opened it, as though some deadly powdery substance might drift from its folds.

Surprise flooded her system when she found herself staring down at a picture of Michael and an unknown woman. He was embracing a raven-haired woman on a dance floor. Their bodies were pushed together, and his mouth appeared to be nuzzling her neck.

She shuffled through four more photos, all of Michael. All the images were of Michael with different women. But the fourth photo was of a woman Kate recognized—the redhead from the office. Michael was sitting at a dinner table with her. White linen. Fancy. Half empty wine glasses between them.

But the last photo . . . it was of Michael and Kate dancing at the club Saturday night. “What the hell . . .” She dropped the photos on the bed and rubbed her hands over her tired face. Her emotions were spiraling in all different directions, and she couldn’t make sense of anything. When she looked back down at the photos, she squinted in surprise, picking up one of the photos that had flipped over. There was writing on the back.

“Go back to New York.” She re-read the words a dozen more times, trying to figure out the motive of her stalker, and why whoever was following her not only wanted her out of New York but possibly wanted her away from Michael, too.