BERLIN MERRITT HURRIED THE SHORT distance from the elevator to the conference room at Southern Mark as fast as her four-inch heels allowed. The more in control she needed to feel, the higher her heels got. Meeting with the new security firm her client hired pushed her pumps up to just shy of stripper territory.

It wasn’t the men. Guys—even overly muscled, testosterone drunk ones—didn’t intimidate her. She’d cut her teeth on the string of “uncles” her mother passed through their lives. She’d never been abused—nothing near it—but she and her mother were close enough in age to be mistaken as sisters. She’d learned early on how to avoid calling attention to herself or to deal with unwanted attention. Her first job in high school working at a diner near the naval base refined her skills. She’d never been a classic beauty, but sailors starved for attention didn’t care. She’d learned to deal with the mixture of too-chivalrous officers and the guys who had her pouring their coffee long distance to avoid their overly friendly hands. She could more than hold her own.

But today was different. Today she had to assert her dominance over both her client and the men he’d hired. It was her job to shepherd Southern Mark Tech across the potential PR minefield and into the biggest merger of her career and keep the men surrounding her from screwing it up. Literally, she thought, resting her hand for a moment on the conference room door.

She sounded like a man hater. She wasn’t; she just hadn’t met many trustworthy ones, starting with her father, who’d done a disappearing act before she was old enough to remember him. It was an opinion reinforced by the few boyfriends she’d had before she decided she preferred sex on her terms to relationships that never paid the dividends they promised.

Up until she met Blake Southerland, her current client, she would have said infidelity was par for the course with the male of the species, which was manageable as long as a woman adjusted her expectations accordingly. When she’d met them, Blake and his wife Samantha seemed so in love, so committed to each other, it made her question her assumptions. From all outward appearances, Blake worshiped his wife. The busy CEO’s world came to a halt the moment she walked into a room. It warmed Berlin’s cynical heart almost to the point of melting and made selling the solid family values component of the merger look like a cakewalk.

Then the anonymous letters started showing up and her carefully constructed campaign started to feel like it was made of tissue paper instead of solid blocks.

Her client’s almost sheepish mannerism reinforced her assumption of his guilt, which made selling him as a solid family man a lot less palatable. She’d do it; it was her job. She’d just enjoy it less than she expected. And it meant if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up hamstrung by the goons he’d hired to get to the bottom of the letters.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room, determined to master whatever challenges the day threw at her. Half the seats at the table were already filled. Blake sat at the head, absorbed in conversation with his wife, looking as gracious and regal as Jackie O—if she’d been British and blonde. Berlin’s gaze skipped over the beautiful woman in her demure pale-blue silk sheath showing off her gently swelling belly and over the man next to her. He was messing around with something on the floor and had his back to the door, but she thought it might be the head of R and D. He’d been out of the country and they hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. The man laughed at something Samantha said, his voice warm enough to call attention to itself if she hadn’t already moved on to the two men wearing the business equivalent of Army Ranger black.

They were going to be her problem. The two of them stuck out like sore thumbs. She could get them in better clothes but hiding their physical bulk and the menace sliding off them, particularly off the sandy-haired guy with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world and then some, would prove impossible to hide. Even clothed in casual Geoffrey Beene, these guys would scream bad ass. So maybe instead of fighting it, she’d go with the security angle. She just had to figure out how to spin it so her client looked like a concerned husband and family man and not a rock star wannabe. The last thing she needed was for everyone to find out about the stalker and have their minds start working in the direction hers had—assuming an affair gone wrong. She silently worked through preliminary plans in her head as she stepped toward the hulking man with the vicious resting bitch face who must be the head of security and offered her hand.

“I’m Berlin Merritt,” she said, grateful for the couple of extra inches her heels gave her when the man stood. A guy that big ought to clamber, but instead he moved almost silently. He reminded her of a big cat—panther, jaguar, lion—something strong and graceful with the coiled power of a predator. His gaze flicked right for a fraction of a second before his warm fingers wrapped around hers. She gave his hand a harder than necessary squeeze before quickly pulling out of his reach. She had no intention of being mistaken for prey.

“Liam Rogers,” he said, glancing right again.

She followed the direction of his gaze and saw the man who’d been talking to Samantha rise from his chair with considerably less grace. Her mind stuttered for a split second over the unexpected, but she didn’t need help placing the sexy tousled hair and cocky grin. The guy from the bar stood next to her client’s wife, looking like he’d just found an extra Christmas present under the tree.

“Good, Berlin. You’re here,” said Blake, pulling her attention away from her would-be one-night-stand. “We’re still waiting for Peter. Let me introduce you to the head of the security team and my tiresome cousin. Berlin Merritt, this is...”

“Gabe Southerland. We’ve met,” said the man, offering her his hand. “Although we weren’t formally introduced. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Merritt.”

She gave his hand a quick shake. There was no reason for her to be embarrassed. He was the one who’d tried to pick her up. The fact she’d been tempted despite his throwback come-on wasn’t something anyone else ever had to know.

“And you as well, Mr. Southerland,” she said, sliding a little extra silk into her voice.

“Gabe, please,” he said with a layer of the aw-shucks charm he’d resorted to when she shot him down the previous night.

“Where did you meet?” asked Samantha, her lilting accent adding extra polish to everything she said.

“I tried to pick Ms. Merritt up in a bar last night.”

She heard what sounded like a choked laugh behind her. Although she had a hard time imagining Liam doing something as mundane as laughing.

“I apologize for anything inappropriate my cousin may have done,” said Blake, shaking his head. “He won’t do it again.”

“I resent the assumption that I did anything inappropriate in the first place,” said Gabe, looking more playful than wounded.

The tension Berlin felt about the meeting and the new security firm faded. She’d much rather deal with the sexy player than the dangerous man sitting behind her. With Gabe heading up the security team, she shouldn’t have any problem managing the message and the image she intended Southern Mark to project.

Smiling to herself, she heard the door open and Peter, Blake’s partner, entered, murmuring apologies for keeping them waiting in his clipped accent.

“Perfect,” she said, smoothing her skirt as she took her seat. “I’ve got the proposed Edison schedule. Let’s get started.”

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TWO HOURS LATER, Berlin was ready to pull out her carefully styled hair, and her assumption she’d have an easier time dealing with Gabe than Liam had been blown out of the water. By Gabe.

The man looked like a Tom Ford model and sounded like a country-western song, but his drawl and laid-back mannerisms hid a quicker mind than she’d given him credit for and an iron will to rival her own. Gabe Southerland was not only going to present a daily—hell, moment by moment—challenge for her, he was shaping up to be a colossal pain in her ass.

“Put anything on the schedule you and my overrated cousin want,” said Gabe, leaning back in his chair in that arrogant way he had that made it seem like he was only half paying attention when he was really laser-beam focused on getting in her way. “But my team is present for every event. It’s not negotiable.”

She could practically hear the darlin’ hanging unsaid in the air as he propped his ankle on his knee, showing off a pair of leather loafers, so artfully casual she wouldn’t be surprised if they cost as much as her Gucci heels. He leaned farther back, giving her a cocky grin, and she fought the urge to push on his chair until the wheels slid out from underneath him, dropping him on his irritating ass. She’d known him less than a day and hated him already.

“I’m not going to have your...” She struggled for a moment to find a word other than goons. No sense poking the bears behind her unless it provided a benefit. “Armed guards hovering over my clients while they go bowling with Edison and his family. They’ll scare the children.”

The other people in the room had given up voicing opinions an hour ago, which suited her fine. Gabe’s men hadn’t done much more than make an imposing black shadow on their side of the table to begin with and she knew the schedule better than Peter and Blake did. They were paying her to work out the details. She didn’t expect or need them to be involved. At this point, she’d rather lock herself in a room with Gabe and battle it out until only one of them was left. Her.

“You won’t know they’re in the room,” said Gabe, and she couldn’t choke back her laughter. Like anyone would miss the wall of menace. “We’ll blend in.” He leaned forward in his chair, pinning her in place with his gaze. For the first time, his good ole boy persona slipped and she wasn’t sure which worried her more—the charming playboy she couldn’t seem to get around or the man with the piercing brown eyes as determined to organize the world his way as she was hers.

“I think we’ve made some progress,” said Blake, shifting in his seat to put himself between her and his cousin, forcing them to break eye contact. “We have a few days to work out the details before the first event. I trust the two of you will find a way to do that. I want you to find a way to accommodate Berlin’s plans without compromising security.” He turned his gaze from Gabe to her and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit like she’d been called to the principal’s office. “I understand your need to control the visuals. It’s why I hired you.” She fought the urge to swallow, letting the saliva pool in her mouth rather than look like a guilty child. “But until we know who’s behind the threats, I’m not willing to take chances with anyone’s safety.”

Blake’s gaze shifted to his wife sitting beside him. He picked up her hand and brushed a quick kiss over the back of her knuckles, the love clear in his eyes. Berlin’s heart clenched a moment at the idea that that kind of devotion could be real.

And then she remembered the reason she had to deal with Gabe Southerland and Southerland Security in the first place. Her supposedly devoted boss had gotten himself tangled up with someone who, from outward appearances, seemed to believe she had some kind of claim on the married man. It didn’t make him guilty of anything, but it sure as hell fed the opposing narrative.

“Understood,” she said, getting to her feet and trying not to feel like she was being dismissed. Shifting her posture so she stood over the new bane of her existence, she pressed weight into her heels and gave Gabe her best polished ice queen smile. “Come to my office when you’re ready to finalize the details.”

Her feelings of superiority didn’t last long. Gabe got to his feet with an easy grace and took her hand in both of his, the warmth of his fingers seeping into hers.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

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“WHAT IN THE world did you do to my PR person?” asked Blake when he and Gabe were alone in the conference room.

Liam and Jacob went to drop their gear in the conference room, and Samantha and Peter left after Berlin made her exit on those fuck me shoes that were going to work their way into his dreams. What were the chances of his mistake from the previous night showing up as his nemesis for the next couple of weeks? Although he had a hard time thinking of her like that. She was controlled to within an inch of her life and so perfectly polished it left him a little dazed, but she was also fierce, determined, and the best at her job. She’d have to be or his cousin wouldn’t have hired her.

And she had no problem going toe-to-toe with him and his guys. Most people were at least a little intimidated by Liam. Not Berlin. The gorgeous little pixie stuck out her hand and hit Liam with a smile that knocked him back a step. Not everyone would recognize it, but Gabe had known him for long enough to see when he was tipped off-balance. The sexy PR woman had done just that. He tried not to spend too much time wishing she’d smiled at him the way she had at Liam.

The smiles she gave Gabe were icily polite, but she’d been hotter than hell when she argued with him. He liked seeing the fire in her eyes so much he might look for reasons to keep arguing—not that it looked like he’d need to make anything up. She seemed to have more than enough ammo to go on.

“I didn’t do anything to your precious PR person, aside from try to buy her a drink,” he said, ignoring Blake’s laughter.

“Smooth.”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s been awhile since I dated, but do people still do the can I buy you a drink thing?”

“It’s not my personal life we’re here to discuss.” The jab was harsher than he intended but Blake’s mocking tone reminded him enough of Berlin’s from the previous night to piss him off all over again.

“Can you work with her?” His words were polite, but Blake had slipped from family to CEO and it made Gabe feel like an ass. His cousin called him to ask for help. The least he could do was provide it without making whatever Blake was dealing with more difficult.

“I’ll make nice. I promise,” he said and was rewarded with an eye roll and a punch on the arm.

“See that you do.” Blake eased back in his chair, the crease in his forehead making him look like Emerson when he was knee-deep in untangling crooked books.

“Walk me through it again.”

His cousin told him about the letters the day before, but Samantha had been with them the entire time and he couldn’t help but feel Blake had been holding something back. It was one of the reasons he’d stayed after everyone else left the room. He thought maybe if it was just the two of them, Blake would open up and tell him the whole truth.

“You got the first letter a week ago,” said Gabe, trying to ease him into it.

“In the regular mail,” said Blake, sounding like someone who’d told the story a dozen times already. “I didn’t think anything of it. It’s not like it’s the first weird letter I’ve gotten. The only strange thing was that it made it to me. The mail guys have gotten good at sorting that kind of thing out and passing it on to an assistant to vet before I even see it. By now they’re pros. After that article ran in Cosmo last year, the mail room went crazy. It smelled like the tester counter at Macy’s.”

Blake shuddered and Gabe bit back the sexiest young entrepreneur dig he’d been about to make. It wasn’t like he hadn’t teased Blake enough over the years. He and his cousins had been ruthless.

“About a week later, another one showed up—on my desk this time. Hand delivered, but nobody saw by who. That’s when I called Adam.”

Blake’s twin, Adam, was a local detective. Blake would have to be genuinely concerned to enlist his brother’s help.

“They couldn’t do anything about it. They don’t have the resources to chase things before they happen. Until someone acts, his hands are tied, and the first letters weren’t directly threatening.”

They hadn’t been. Gabe had read them. There wasn’t anything the cops could really hold onto but the Misery-like love/hate tone of the letters was creepy and more than enough to make Gabe take his cousin’s concerns seriously. They sat in silence for a moment, and he wondered if he was going to have to prompt Blake to get him talking again. He heard his cousin’s breath go out on a sigh and waited to see what came next.

“There’s something I haven’t told you. I haven’t told anyone,” said Blake, sounding uncomfortable.

Bingo. Wait long enough and people always talked. He couldn’t be happy about it, though, when it clearly wasn’t something Blake wanted to share. Gabe didn’t want to think about what his cousin was hiding from both his brother and his wife.

“You’re still a client—even if we’re family. Confidentiality holds. Whatever you say never leaves this room.” It went without saying but sometimes the words eased the way. He waited to hear what his cousin revealed, hoping it didn’t alter his opinion too much. He’d treat him like a client, but they were family first. It was one thing to know a client had done something ethically questionable. It was another thing to know the cousin he’d always looked up to had.

“It’s easier to show you,” said Blake, appearing resigned to the worst.

He reached inside his suit coat and pulled out a small folded piece of pale-pink paper, the same as the other letters. He handed it to Gabe and collapsed back in his chair, clearly miserable.

Gabe unfolded the letter, wondering what it cost his cousin to carry it around with him and what he’d be so desperate to hide from his wife that he felt like he had to keep it on him. The handwriting was the same angular script as the other letter, the angles at odds with the flowery tone.

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I will never forget our night together. The way you smiled at me, your heart-shaped mole playing peekaboo out of the dark thatch surrounding your manhood. Every detail of that night is etched in my mind so I can call on it when the cost of your absence becomes too dear. Hurry and cast aside your distractions, my love, so we can be together. I don’t understand why you wait, but I’ll cling to my memories. For now.

Always yours

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Gabe handed the letter back to his cousin and searched for a way to phrase the question he didn’t want to ask. Blake beat him to it.

“Yes, I have a heart-shaped mole on my junk. No, it wouldn’t show up in pictures of me wearing a bathing suit. No, I’ve never posed naked in public or in private.” Blake looked like a man just given a death sentence with no hope of a stay of execution.

“Well hell.”

“That’s where I’ve been living,” said Blake, ruefully.

Gabe steepled his fingers in front of him, looking for an angle out of the adultery mole.

“Do you have any exes that hate you enough to do this?” he asked, hoping for an easy way out.

Blake snorted and shook his head. “Not unless they’ve been holding a grudge since the beginning of college. I was so busy building Southern Mark; I barely dated before Samantha.” The love and pain laced together in the way Blake said his wife’s name made Gabe hate himself a little for the next question.

“Have you had an affair?”

Blake met his gaze, pain etched on his face.

“I don’t know.”