Lethal Exposure

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?”

“Just finishing up. I’m on my way out the door. I thought I’d check on you. See if you needed anything.”

“You work too hard.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.”

“Ah, but I play just as hard as I work. You don’t play, dear Blanche.”

Blanche gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “You think you know me so well.”

“Come on,” he said, suddenly realizing that other than his brother, Blanche was his only real friend. He spent too much time in hotel rooms just like this one. It was pretty sad when you were a thirty-year-old guy and your best friend was a fiftysomething grandmother. Maybe he did work too hard. “If you had a social life you wouldn’t be at the office at eight at night.”

“You don’t know what I’m doing here. Perhaps I have a suitor and I’m showing him my desk.”

“Are you?” Sebastian lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ll never tell.”

“So what’s up?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Linc told me he’s quitting and that he and Keeley are getting married. How do you feel about that?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I feel fine.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, you want the truth? I think Linc’s making a big mistake,” he said.

“He loves her. She loves him.”

“They’re wrong for each other.”

“How do you know?”

“They’re total opposites.”

“Opposites attract.”

He thought of Julie, laughed and shook his head.

“Oh,” Blanche said. “I see.”

“See what?”

“What’s her name?”

“Her? What are you talking about?”

“You’re already penning another new name in your little black book.”

“I’m not,” he denied, wondering how in the hell Blanche knew him so well.

She tilted her head. “You’re working on it.”

“What can I say,” he confessed. “I love women.”

Sebastian did love women. They fascinated him. With their potions and perfumes that smelled so good. From their soft skin, to the delicate underside of their throats. And the way their minds worked, so mysterious and unpredictable.

The opposite sex mesmerized him. Tall ones, short ones, plump ones, thin ones, dark ones, light ones. He loved them all. It was the reason he couldn’t choose just one. There were simply too many wonderful ladies walking about the world.

“Maybe you should consider backing off,” Blanche said.

“What?”

“You rush into courtships.”

Courtships? He grinned. Blanche was so old-fashioned. He found it endearing. “Hey, I’m usually only in town a short time. If I didn’t rush, I wouldn’t get anywhere.”

“And then just as quickly, you rush out of them. You’ll never get married like that.”

“You know I’m not interested in marriage.”

“I know you say you’re not interested in marriage,” Blanche said. “I think it’s that you haven’t met the right woman. When you do, everything will change and then you’ll finally understand about your brother and Keeley.”

The truth was he didn’t want to understand. “Yeah? Well, if you know so much about men and women and love, how come you’re single?”

Blanche straightened in her chair, making herself look even more prim than usual. “I’ve had my great love affair, Sebastian. No one else could ever compare to Edward, so there’s no point searching. He’s gone. I’m a grandmother, which keeps me happy enough, and I’ve got you to look after.”

“Now see,” Sebastian said. “If I did something stupid like fall in love and get married, then you wouldn’t have anyone to take care of. How could I ever do that to you?”

Blanche’s opinion came out in a snort. He’d gotten quite accustomed to the expressive sound and it made him smile. “Good night, Sebastian. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sleep tight, Blanche.”

She turned off her computer camera and that was the end of the conversation. Sebastian finished up his work and logged off. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed, hands cupped behind his head. His thoughts trailed to Julie.

He couldn’t figure out what it was about her that appealed to him so much. She was cute, sure. And he loved her curvy, compact body. Just thinking about touching her had him growing hard. He wanted her…oh, yeah.

But he had a nagging feeling she was a forever kind of woman and that simply wasn’t what he was looking for. He thought about calling her up, canceling their luncheon appointment, but then he realized it was almost midnight.

Why was he so confused about what he wanted from her? He was normally very decisive. In that exam room he’d decided he was going to seduce her. But after talking to Blanche, he was feeling…

What was he feeling?

Sebastian pushed the thought away. Blanche loved messing with his head. He wasn’t going to let her get to him. He did know what he wanted and he was going after it.

A nice little fling with Julie DeMarco.

SO THEY THOUGHT they could hire a spin doctor to solve Confidential Rejuvenations’ image problems, eh?

Fools.

The hospital saboteur rummaged through the file on the cocky Mr. Sebastian Black. He was a good-looking devil. No question about it. With his lush dark hair and straight white teeth. Veneers, no doubt.

And from the curriculum vitae the saboteur had found on Dr. Butler’s desk, Sebastian Black ran one of the most sought-after, privately owned PR firms in the country. His clients included important movers and shakers in the entertainment industry.

Mr. Black, the saboteur had discovered, had quite a reputation as a ladies’man. The saboteur chuckled. Such a man would be so easy to manipulate.

What a wickedly wonderful turn of events that he was interested in Julie DeMarco.

That woman needed to be taught a lesson. Shamelessly sleeping with a married man. Was nothing sacred anymore? DeMarco deserved to get her heart broken by a notorious playboy like Black and the saboteur was in a special position to make that heartbreak happen.

The plan was brilliant. Use public relations to turn the tables on the PR expert. Anticipation—and revenge—was a glorious dish to be savored.

JULIE WAS SO NERVOUS she could scarcely breathe. She hadn’t been on a date since she’d sent Roger packing.

It’s not a date, she told herself. It’s an interview in a public place. There will be lots of people around.

Moistening her lips to quell her nervousness, Julie sat in her white Honda Civic outside the Sushi Palace a half mile from Confidential Rejuvenations. She was early. It was only eleven-forty but she’d been too keyed up to stay at home.

Her shift started at two-thirty and she had her scrubs folded in the backseat, along with her pink nursing clogs and a pink stethoscope. It would have been more convenient to meet him already dressed in her scrub uniform, but Julie wanted Sebastian to see what she looked like in street clothes.

She’d spent almost an hour getting ready. The entire time, she’d kept asking herself whether Sebastian Black was really the rebound guy she wanted after Roger. Or, if she was being honest with herself, could she admit he was really too much for her to handle?

That was the question she was here to answer.

After a phone consultation with Vanessa and Elle, she’d dressed sexily, but not too vampish, considering it was a luncheon date. Straight-legged black slacks, black zippered fashion boots with three-inch heels to give her five-foot-three stature a boost and a pink-and-white-striped angora sweater. She used her curling iron on her hair and it hung low down her back in soft, feminine ringlets.

This was exactly what she needed—a temporary tryst with a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. A man who could take the lead and teach her what she needed to know.

That was her secret. When it came to sex, she really didn’t know what she was doing. Failing her qualifying exam to become a sex therapist was proof enough of her inadequacies.

Before Roger, she’d had only one other lover—her college biology professor, Phillip Gregory. She’d given him her virginity and he’d given her an A-plus for the semester and then he’d dumped her. Phillip had broken her nineteen-year-old heart and damaged her self-esteem, but she’d never stopped looking for love.

Now, she was almost thirty years old and she could count on both hands the number of times she’d had sex. Three times with Phillip. Seven times with Roger.

Pathetic.

It was this damned starry-eyed romanticism instilled in her by her mother. The promise of happily-ever-after. The dream of the one perfect guy who made your life complete. Her mother had believed it and look where it had gotten her. Married to her soul mate, but then widowed at fifty-four with a teenage daughter to raise.

Julie had to ask herself if that’s why she’d been attracted to both Roger and Phillip. Had she simply been searching for a father figure? Her dad had died when she was fourteen. Had her lovers represented the masculine guidance she’d lost and longed for?

What a cliché.

Julie peered at herself in the rearview mirror and was startled to see how sexy she looked. Her curls had defied the curling iron and resorted to their usual wild tumble, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance. Suddenly, her lipstick seemed too red, her mascara too thickly applied, the V-neck of her sweater revealing too much cleavage.

Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? To start something with Sebastian Black. Learn a few tricks. Push her sexual boundaries with a no-strings-attached affair? Get past the number Roger and Phillip had done on her self-confidence. Become more accomplished at lovemaking so she didn’t get so embarrassed in therapy sessions when the patients revealed their colorful romantic escapades.

Nervously, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. What was she doing here? What made her think Sebastian Black could cure her romanticism?

A zippy red sports car pulled into the parking lot and she knew before she ever saw his face that Sebastian was behind the wheel. He killed the engine and hopped from the lowslung German-engineered automobile looking as if he’d stepped off the cover of People magazine. Tall, broad shouldered, lean hipped. Sexy as hell.

You’re in over your head. This guy will eat you alive.

It was, she had to admit, a very delicious thought.

Sebastian clutched a black leather briefcase in his hand and he headed for the door of the restaurant with purposeful, ground-chewing strides. He wore a tailor-made gray business suit with a lavender shirt and an avant-garde grape-and-gold tie. Not many men could pull off lavender, but on him, it was a power color, accenting his tanned skin and dark, intelligent eyes. Modern young executive on the go.

He was exquisite.

And he was everything she’d trained herself not to want. Handsome beyond belief. Smooth as silk. The kind of guy you just knew would take your breath away and leave you gasping for oxygen. She’d always gone for substance over style. For older steady men who promised security.

Yeah. And look where that got you.

It was all she could do to keep from starting her car, driving away and thanking her lucky stars she’d escaped unscathed.

But despite her alarm, something pushed her forward. Her craving for knowledge and sexual experimentation was stronger than her fear of getting hurt. She could do this. She could seduce him, enjoy him and keep the relationship strictly casual. He was only in town for a short time. He was perfect.

She put her hand on the door handle, opened it and stepped out into the parking lot. Sebastian had already gone inside. Determined, she headed into the restaurant.

The hostess, a pretty, dark-haired woman in a red kimono with green dragons imprinted into the silk fabric, greeted her in the foyer. “One for lunch?”

“Actually,” she said, “I’m meeting someone.”

Just then, Sebastian walked up behind the hostess. He’d been watching for her. His grin widened as if he’d just won the Powerball lottery. The eager expression on his face went a long way toward bolstering her courage and tamping down her fear.

He made a low noise of masculine appreciation as he came closer. “Wow, check you out.”

Slowly, he raked his gaze from the top of her head, down the low-cut V of her angora sweater, to the snug-fitting, straight-legged slacks to her high-heeled black stiletto boots and back again. The look was so intense, Julie gulped and folded her fingernails into her palms to steady her nerves.

An electrical charge passed between them. A silent understanding. His dark eyes smoldered with a sexuality that stole her breath.

He was unfairly handsome. No guy should look so good. It was annoying that every female in the place was darting surreptitious glances in his direction.

To his credit, his focus was only on her. He made her feel special and that made her suspicious. Why was he trying so hard?

Julie inhaled sharply, desperate for air.

Sebastian extended his hand.

The moment their palms touched the hostess disappeared. The restaurant ceased to exist. Time evaporated. She was aware of nothing except Sebastian. No man had ever looked at her in quite that way before.

Oh, he’s good.

He was very, very good at making her feel special. Julie told herself it was his job. He was a PR expert. It wasn’t personal. She would not let it go to her head.