High Society Sabotage

His quick response took her by surprise, not at all what she’d expected.

“Matter of fact,” he continued, “some might look at it as a win-win. Additional housing, additional tax dollars, some pocket change for the developer, and you just never know. There might be oil in those hills.”

Oil.

Land held by at least three of the dead investors’ companies was known oil land. Maybe Kyle Prescott represented even more than the perfect means to infiltrate TCM. Maybe he also represented the perfect means to infiltrate the investing scheme.

Sara spun on him, seizing the opportunity to push for information. “You can’t be serious.”

His vivid gaze widened with evident surprise. Apparently Kyle Prescott wasn’t used to receiving criticism from his romantic conquests.

He frowned slightly. “I’m completely serious.”

Sara gestured to the expanse below them. “You actually think losing a portion of this land is a good thing?”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Progress is progress, babe.”

Babe.

She spun back toward the view before he could spot the hot color firing in her cheeks. All it would take would be one swift kick to send the man flying off the cliff and into the valley he was apparently so anxious to see developed.

TCM, Sara reminded herself. Stay focused on TCM.

But she couldn’t quite ignore Kyle Prescott’s know-it-all arrogance. She waited until her face cooled, then shifted her gaze back in his direction. He stood staring past her, at the Turner ranch, if she weren’t mistaken.

“What about land preservation?” she asked.

His focus snapped from the view to her face. “What about it?”

The intensity of his focus rattled her ever so slightly. She didn’t like the sensation—didn’t like it at all. She forced her thoughts back to their conversation.

If she could keep him talking about land and oil, he might let some useful information slip into their conversation.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about international deals than about land acquisitions.” She gave an innocent shrug, working to maintain an air of innocence. “Isn’t that your area of expertise?”

He studied her for a long moment then leaned close. “Is there a reason you’re so concerned about the land, Ms. Montgomery? I assure you I have far more interesting areas of expertise.”

Sara arched one brow. “Can’t a girl care about her environment?”

A sly grin slid across Kyle’s lips. “Sweetheart, you can care about whatever you want.”

The man’s arrogant tone sent anger flicking to life in Sara’s gut. Heat rose from her neck to her face. This time, she made no move to hide her reaction.

“I’m always amazed when a man of your obvious wealth and social status won’t use that power for good.”

“When good playboys go bad.” He leaned even closer. Too close.

Sara held her ground, squinting at him. Their conversation was getting her nowhere. He had yet to give her a straight answer. The man was hiding something, and she had every intention of finding out what.

“Mr. Prescott—”

“I could have sworn I told you to call me Kyle.”

He made his move quickly, as if he’d made it countless times before, leaning into Sara and cupping her face in the palm of one hand.

When he closed his mouth over hers, she opened her lips to protest, only to find his lips matching her moves, his tongue tangling with hers, exploring, tasting.

Traitorous heat ignited deep inside her and Sara wound her hands around his neck and into his slightly too long hair, noting the silky texture and wondering how much money he spent on salon treatments.

When he splayed his palms fully on the small of her back and pulled her body tight against his, her only thought was of how good he felt.

The hard expanse of his chest.

The warmth of his body against hers.

His obvious arousal pressed against her stomach.

Sara blinked herself back into reality before she lost control of the situation, breaking away from his kiss and pushing him out to arm’s length.

Kyle didn’t release his grip, however. Instead he gave her waist a squeeze and turned on his megawatt smile.

Sara had to admit he was good. Very good.

She could see why woman after woman fell for him, only to be discarded when he’d grown bored or received a more enticing offer.

Well, if she’d learned one thing over the years it was that the more you pushed a guy like Kyle away, the more he’d come begging. She decided then and there on her plan of attack. As much as she hated playing games, a round of hard-to-get seemed to be in order.

She drew in a dramatic breath and splayed her hand across her neck. “I think it best we get back to the ranch.”

Without saying a word, Kyle let his gaze drift from her mouth, to her hand, over the swell of her breasts, along the lines of her skirt, down the length of her legs, then slowly back up until he met her eyes.

The seconds passed in slow motion, each moment pure torture as her body heated beneath his gaze.

She swallowed just before his eyes met hers.

“You’d better wear this.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket then draped it around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t want to catch a chill.”

Oh, he was good.

But she could be even better.

KYLE MENTALLY BERATED himself as he maneuvered the bike along the mountain road down from the lookout. When he got a bit too close to the shoulder, he tried to snap himself back into focus by shoving Sara Montgomery out of his head, but it didn’t work.

The heat of her arms pressed around his body and the memory of their kiss lingered on his lips. He’d kissed a lot of women in his day, no doubt about it, but no kiss had ever been quite like this one. It wasn’t that her pulling away had made it different. She had made it different. Plain and simple.

Sara Montgomery ignited a sensation inside him that had never been ignited. She intrigued him. Genuinely intrigued him.

She shifted against him as he pulled into a straight patch of road. Her soft curves pressed into his back, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear the woman was trying to torture him.

His body remained in a heightened state of awareness even now, at least fifteen minutes since their kiss.

He ran their discussion through his head for the umpteenth time. The truth of the matter was he agreed with everything she said.

He hated to see the sprawl that crept into the land at the base of the mountains. If he had his way, no one would ever be able to develop here again.

Kyle couldn’t quite put his finger on why he’d lied in order to get Sara’s response. Maybe he’d done it to get a rise out of her, or to measure her response.

He’d been pleasantly surprised when she hadn’t agreed with him, as most of the upper crust in the region would have.

Land equaled power in these parts and oil was the Holy Grail. The more land you owned, the better chance you had of striking it rich. He should know. He’d watched several local power brokers find success after success in recent months with lucky land buyouts.

The voice mail he’d received planted itself front and center on his radar screen again. Was that what the man had been referring to? Had he been accusing Kyle of taking part in some sort of investment scheme? If so, the man couldn’t be further off base.

Kyle hadn’t taken part, out of his love for the area’s wilderness, but he had to admit the money was enough to tempt many an environmentalist to the dark side. He, however, wasn’t one of them.

He shouldn’t have let Sara go on as he did without telling her the truth, but it had been a pleasure to see her passion when she spoke, her determination when she explained her stance.

The woman was refreshing, a treat he intended to sample fully when she offered. And she would in time. They always did.

If she thought the hard-to-get act was original, she needed to think again. That particular tactic was tired as well as ineffectual, at least where Kyle was concerned.

He’d been surprised she hadn’t broken away from their kiss more quickly, but the biggest question bouncing around his brain was why she’d agreed to the ride in the first place.

The action didn’t match the coolness she’d otherwise shown. He wondered what she was after. His money? His connections? History showed it would be one or the other. It always was.

Before he could give the topic another thought, Sara leaned forward and tried to yell something to him. The noise of the bike’s engine and the thickness of the helmet he wore muffled her voice.

He shook his head to let her know he hadn’t made out a word she’d said. He dropped a look to his rearview mirror just as she extricated one arm from around his waist and leaned forward, jerking her thumb toward the road behind them.

Kyle knew what she was referring to as soon as she made the gesture. He was already studying the approaching headlights in the mirror.

The vehicle appeared to be an SUV. Dark. Sleek. Heavily tinted windows.

Not your average drive-in-the-mountains fare.

The SUV moved dangerously close to the rear tire of the bike and Kyle accelerated, adrenaline surging to life inside him.

Was the guy behind him nuts? Or was he challenging him to a little road race?

The SUV pulled into the oncoming lane as they approached the next hairpin turn.

What in the—?

Kyle maneuvered away from the too-close black vehicle, yet still maintained control of the bike.

“Hold on,” he yelled into the mountain air, knowing Sara most likely couldn’t hear a thing.

Her arms tightened around his waist, bolstering his resolve to get them away from the maniac in the SUV.

They cleared the curve, but the SUV swerved toward them in the straightaway, pushing Kyle and Sara dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Kyle gritted his teeth, determined not to lose control. His father had been killed in an accident and Kyle had no intention of carrying on the family tradition.

The next hairpin turn approached. Kyle knew they wouldn’t make it. They’d have to ditch, but how would he be able to warn Sara?

The SUV swung toward them, brushing mere inches from their legs. Sara screamed something, but Kyle couldn’t make it out.

Damn it. It would be bad enough if he were alone on the bike, but with Sara on the back, he was responsible for saving not just himself, but also the beautiful stranger.

The SUV swerved again, and the front tire of the motorcycle nipped into the rocks and dirt along the edge of the cliff. They faltered, and the bike bobbled from side to side.

The SUV accelerated out around the next curve and out of sight, as if the driver knew what was about to happen, knew he’d succeeded in his dangerous game.

Kyle did his best to slow the motorcycle without losing complete control, but it was too late.

The tires went out from under the bike and they were sliding, dirt and gravel flying, obscuring his view. They slid, and pain exploded through Kyle as the weight of the bike did its damage. Sara’s arms suddenly were no longer around his waist and fear ripped through him.

Had she gone over the cliff? Had she been injured—or worse—because of him?

That was the question haunting Kyle as the mountain fell away beneath him and he and his Harley went over the edge.

Chapter Three

Sara spit the dirt out of her mouth and reached for the strap of her helmet even as she launched herself into action.

She’d been able to jump from the motorcycle as they wrecked, but Kyle hadn’t been so lucky. She’d tried to tell him to jump, but he’d no doubt been unable to hear her above the noise of the motorcycle’s engine.

He and the bike were nowhere to be seen. When Sara spotted a telltale gash in the earth at the edge of the road, bile clawed its way up her throat.

It would take a miracle to survive a fall over the cliff.

She scrambled toward the edge of the roadway, ignoring the pain in every muscle in her body. She held her breath as she peered over the edge, utter amazement ripping through her at the sight of Kyle sprawled on a section of rock just below her. The bike, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Kyle!”

Sara yelled his name when she spotted movement in his arms and legs. To her amazement, he pulled himself into a sitting position, each move an obvious struggle.

“You’re all right?” He spat out the words as he tipped his face toward her, pulling off his helmet as he did so.

The arrogance so prevalent in his expression just minutes earlier was gone. Instead, he searched her face, sincere concern plastered across his features.

Sara nodded, surprised by the absence of any hint of self-awareness on his part.

“Are you hurt badly?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll live.”

She dropped onto her belly, reaching for him. “Give me your hands.”

Kyle gave her one hand while he used the other to pull himself up the jagged face of the section of mountain.

Sara pulled with all her might, being careful to let him set the pace. When he cleared the top, he dropped onto his side, wincing in pain. His shirt had been ripped and blood seeped through the white fabric in several spots.

She reached for him, but caught herself at the last moment, deciding against the move. “We have to get you help.”

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “We have to get back. Get you checked out.”

“I’m all right. A bit battered, but nothing’s broken.”

He gave his head another shake. “We still need to get you cleaned up.”

Sara glanced up and down the road. They’d encountered no other vehicle during their trip except the SUV. “Any ideas?”

Kyle pulled off his boot and reached inside, pressing something along the seam.

“What are you doing?”

He lifted his pale gaze to hers and gave her a weak smile. “Automatic tracking signal.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” She shook her head, letting a laugh of relief slide between her lips.

He shot her a wink. “Never underestimate the power of technology.”

KYLE LEANED into the stream of steaming water pouring from the showerhead, his palms splayed against the cool tile. He’d been lucky. Bumped and bruised and he’d no doubt feel much worse in the morning, but he’d survived. That was a whole lot more than he could say for his bike.

He’d dropped Sara at her home and sent her car over with one of TCM’s drivers. His personal physician had followed close behind.

Dr. Franklin had checked in a short while ago to let Kyle know Ms. Montgomery would be just fine.

Kyle winced as the water stung his still raw wounds. He couldn’t believe how close they’d both come to dying.

Who had been behind the wheel of the SUV? And had the driver’s actions been done out of sport, or out of malice? If malice, who was the target? Surely not Sara. They must have been after him, but why?

He hadn’t planned to go up into the mountains, so if the attack had been made purposefully, he and Sara had been followed from the time they’d left the party. No one but the two of them knew where they had been headed.

Kyle thought of the alleged memo bearing his signature and the call he’d placed to Dwayne. Surely today’s accident had nothing to do with his demand for an explanation, did it?

He shook his head.

Pure coincidence. Though, he’d never been a fan of coincidence.

He twisted off the water and reached for a towel. After he’d dabbed at his wounds and anchored the towel snuggly around his waist, he padded barefoot to his personal office.

Here, he could access the TCM computers twenty-four hours a day. No one knew of his setup, not even his stepfather.

The one perk of his bad-boy reputation was the fact that everyone had forgotten he actually had a brain beneath his well-styled hair.

He stopped as he passed through the kitchen to snag a tall, cold beer from the fridge. He deserved a drink—or several—after today’s events.

Kyle popped the cap and took a long pull. Even though he’d literally fallen off a cliff and had had one of the worst days of his life, he couldn’t avoid the way he’d felt since the moment he first met Sara Montgomery.

Shaking her hand.

Debating land issues.

The feel of her slender shoulders beneath his touch.

His stomach tightened and he chastised himself as he dropped into his leather desk chair. He’d never let a woman get to him before, so what made this one different?

For one, she didn’t hesitate to argue with him.

He smiled. Now there was something new.

Typically, the women he met were so eager to please in order to get their claws into him that they’d agree with most anything he said.

Kyle fired up the computer and leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the handmade wooden desk. He took another long taste of his beer, staring out into the night sky. The Denver skyline twinkled in the distance.

When his architect had suggested a full glass wall in the office, Kyle had thought the man a bit mad, but every night when he sat in this very spot, he knew he’d been wrong.

The man had been a genius.

Something about the view, the expanse of land and sky, the enormity of it all, kept Kyle grounded. The sight was a constant reminder of who he was—and how small he was—in the grand scheme of things.

His father would have loved this view.

Kyle’s gut twisted. He’d never known his dad after his mother had taken Kyle back to the States as a kid. When he and Robert Prescott had reconnected a few short years ago, the relationship had been strained, but there’d been a bond that Kyle had never felt with his stepfather.

Stephen Turner was a good man, but a chasm of awkwardness existed between them that Kyle could never quite bridge.

His father had been another matter altogether. Robert Prescott had been bigger than life, at least in Kyle’s eyes. When his plane had gone down on a trip to Spain, Kyle’s playboy antics had spiraled out of control. And he’d let them.

Why not?

He had no reason to do anything else.

Robert’s wife, Evangeline, had taken over Prescott Personal Securities with an icy resolve. Matter of fact, he’d never so much as seen his stepmother flinch after his father’s death. For all he knew, she was secretly happy to find herself in the position of boss.

Marriage.

He took another drink and shook his head.

Based on what Kyle had seen, he was the smart one. Love ’em and leave ’em. That way no one stuck around long enough to get hurt, or produce offspring.

The computer blinked the entry screen for his pass code and he dropped his feet to the floor, pulling the chair close to the desk.

He had work to do.

He typed in his code and waited for the TCM welcome screen to appear.

Kyle had decided not to wait for Dwayne Johnson to return his call. There was no time like the present to search the files in case he’d “signed” more than one memo in absentia.

If someone had used his electronic signature, Kyle had every intention of finding out who…and why.

SARA BYPASSED the cubicles inside the Prescott Personal Securities headquarters and headed straight for Evangeline Prescott’s corner office. She’d received a call from her boss on her secure line not long after Kyle’s physician left.

Word had spread about the accident and Evangeline wanted a face-to-face. Like Sara, Evangeline didn’t think the SUV’s maneuvers had been anything but deliberate.

But why? And who?

Was Kyle Prescott the next name on the list of land investors in the TCM scheme? Had Sara merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Or was the man a target for an altogether different reason?

Sara knew the collision hadn’t been meant for her. She hadn’t been on the case long enough to raise anyone’s interest. Had she?

She rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly as she tapped on the doorjamb to Evangeline’s office. Her boss looked up and smiled, pushing herself to her feet.

Her long blond hair had been sleeked into a flawless twist and her vivid blue eyes sparkled through the reading glasses that sat partway down her nose. She pulled Sara into a quick hug, the move taking Sara by surprise.

Sara hadn’t seen her parents in years, and she had no personal life to speak of, so the genuine display of affection was something she wasn’t used to. It was also a side of Evangeline rarely witnessed.

“Thank goodness you’re all right.” Evangeline pushed Sara out to arm’s length and smiled. She gestured to the sofa that sat facing the bank of windows overlooking downtown Denver. “Sit down. Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?”

Sara nodded. “Coffee sounds great.”

She stared out into the lights of the city as Evangeline pressed the intercom. “Coffee please, Angel. And bring in the other items we discussed, if you would.”

Sara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Other items?”

A smile tugged at one corner of Evangeline’s mouth. “Secret weapon. You’ll see.” She sat down on the sofa and patted Sara’s knee. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out a single detail.”

Her expression turned from gentle to intense. “You never know what’s going to be the clue that breaks this investigation wide open.”

Sara nodded and launched into a blow-by-blow description of the day’s events. She left out nothing, even going so far as to detail the kiss she and Kyle had shared at the top of the mountain.

“Plates on the SUV?” Evangeline asked as soon as Sara stopped speaking.

“Wyoming.” Sara shook her head. “I got the first three digits, nothing more.”

Evangeline nodded and stood, reaching for the notepad on her desk. She handed it to Sara along with a pen. “Let’s get it all down. We’ll see what magic we can work with what you got.”

A pang of sadness hit Sara as she remembered the man who would have had no trouble making the information sing. Only a few weeks had passed since Lenny had been senselessly murdered, and the sudden shock had begun to give way to acceptance and grief.

The man who had been PPS’s resident computer genius was sorely missed. A geek among geeks, as he’d referred to himself. A true one-of-a-kind.

Sara wrenched her thoughts to the present. Surely someone else could make the database sing using just the SUV’s description and the partial plate.

Sara had no sooner finished making her notations than a knock sounded at Evangeline’s door.

Angel, one of the company’s receptionists, entered, black hair gleaming and multiple piercings shining.

“You’re all right?” she asked Sara, a note of genuine concern softening the harsh, Goth facade she maintained.

Sara nodded. “Thanks.”

Sara’s eyes, however, never left the object Angel carried. Two steaming mugs of coffee sat balanced on top of a large, flat box.

The secret weapon?

What on earth was Evangeline up to now?

Angel set the box on Evangeline’s worktable, handed Evangeline and Sara each a mug, then looked at Evangeline. When Evangeline nodded, Angel carried the box to Sara and set it in her lap.

“Your secret weapon.”

Sara’s pulse quickened inexplicably. “What is it?”

“The key to my stepson’s heart,” Evangeline answered.

Sara studied the size and depth of the box. Lingerie perhaps? Her belly tightened at the very thought of modeling lingerie for Kyle Prescott. Their kiss had been hot enough to momentarily undo her focus. She didn’t want to consider what a lingerie-modeling session might do.

She swallowed.

“Open it.” Evangeline instructed.

Sara lowered her coffee mug to an end table then slipped her fingertips beneath the edges of the box, slowing lifting the lid.

A plate of brownies sat inside, carefully sealed in a clear container.