“Thank you for staying late this evening.” With Seamus securely on her hip, Callie walked Mrs. Goodhope to the door. “I appreciate your giving Seamus his bath, too.”

“No trouble at all, my dear. I think of Seamus as one of my grandchildren, now, don’t I?” She tickled Seamus under the chin. “He’s a splendid little fellow.”

The motherly minder was all warm smiles and gentle hugs. Callie often remarked to Enid how fortunate she’d been to have found someone so ideally suited to the care of young children.

The moment Callie started to close the door, Enid bounded around the corner and ran up the pavement. “Hold up,” she called, then raced up the steps and into the house. “Close that door. It’s freezing out tonight.”

“And where have you been?” Callie demanded. “You were due home two hours ago. Mrs. Goodhope had to stay over.”

“I thought you had to work late tonight.” Enid stripped out of her coat and hung it in the closet just off the foyer. “What are you doing home?”

“Mrs. Goodhope rang me an hour ago to tell me you were still out.” Callie shifted Seamus’s fat little body from one hip to the other. “I couldn’t ask her to stay longer, not knowing for certain how late I might be tonight. And neither of us had any idea whether you’d show up or not.”

“Don’t be upset with me.” Enid gave Callie her pitiful puppy-dog pout. “I was posing for Leonardo and lost track of time.” She tapped Seamus playfully on the nose. “Tell your mummy not to be mean to Auntie Enid.”

Seamus giggled, that sweet toddler laugh that quickly diffused the tension between his mother and aunt.

“I’ll read him his bedtime story and then I must get back to the office,” Callie said. “Burke was very understanding about my leaving, but he really needs my help. We have a major deal pending and we simply have to have all the details ironed out tonight.”

“Mm. I had wondered, when you rang earlier today to say you’d be working late, exactly what that work entailed.” Enid followed Callie to the second story, which consisted of two bedrooms and a bath. “You’ve been absolutely horrid to me since Saturday night and you haven’t told me a thing that transpired between you and Burke since then.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Burke and I have agreed that it’s best if we keep our relationship strictly business.” Callie eased opened the door to Seamus’s room, carried him in and laid him in his bed.

She and Enid had painted the walls of the room a light yellow, brought Callie’s baby furniture out of storage and decorated the nursery with Winnie-the-Pooh items, everything from coverlet to wallpaper border.

“What will it be tonight?” Callie asked her son as she removed a handful of small books from the seat of the yellow rocking chair.

“Bad Wuff,” Seamus said. At fourteen months he had a remarkable vocabulary, although as yet he hadn’t comprised a complete sentence and his pronunciation was often not precise.

“All right.” Callie picked up her son’s favorite fairy tale, The Three Little Pigs. The book had been in a box filled with gifts from her father on Seamus’s first birthday.

“Give Auntie Enid a night kiss, lovie.”

Seamus wrapped his arms around Enid’s neck and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. “Wuv you.”

Enid smiled and returned the kiss. “I love you, too, you little angel.”

Callie sat in the rocker, scooted it close to Seamus’s bed and opened the book. “Once upon a time there were three little pigs…”

By the time she had gotten to the part where the big bad wolf was huffing and blowing in an effort to destroy the brick house, Seamus was fast asleep. Callie closed the book and laid it in her lap. Sighing contentedly as she watched her son sleeping so peacefully, she thought about how she had always longed for a home and a family. Two parents. Brothers and sisters. Roots. A house to live in for a lifetime.

Since she’d grown up in various countries throughout Europe, traveling with her diplomat father and social butterfly mother, in her formative years she’d spent as much time with a nanny as she had her parents. And then, when her mother had died suddenly in a car crash when she was twelve, her father had sent her to the United States to attend boarding school and to spend weekends and holidays with his sister, a corporate lawyer. Aunt Nelda didn’t have a maternal bone in her body and had made Callie feel like an unwanted intruder in her life. However, Callie’s summer vacations in England with Enid and Enid’s parents had been the high point of each year. During those glorious summers, she and Enid had formed a strong and lasting bond of sisterhood.

As a girl and later as a young woman, Callie had dreamed of falling in love, marrying and raising a brood of children. She had fancied herself living in the country, with woods and orchards and a stream for swimming and fishing. A big, old house with fireplaces, large, airy rooms and a huge family kitchen. Horses to ride. Dogs to pet. An idyllic storybook life.

When she’d fallen in love with Laurence, she’d foolishly thought all her silly little dreams would come true. They’d discussed the possibility of buying a place in Sussex or Kent, once they’d saved up enough money. But Laurence had been a skillful liar. She’d placed her trust in the wrong man.

Then along came Burke Lonigan. The most irresistible man on earth. And what had she done? She’d had sex with a stranger and gotten herself pregnant, that’s what she’d done. She realized now that her feelings for Laurence Wynthrope paled in comparison to the way she felt about Burke. She’d spent one night with the man and been unable to forget him.

Callie’s gaze rested on Seamus. Perhaps the fact that your son is a little replica of the man might have something to do with the fact that you couldn’t forget him, she reminded herself.

Glancing at her watch, Callie grimaced. She needed to get to the office. Burke had told her to take a cab, if she found that she could return to work tonight.

She leaned over, kissed Seamus’s forehead and drew the covers to his neck. “I want to tell your father about you, sweetheart. Really I do. But I’m afraid telling him might be a big mistake. You see, I’m not all together certain that your father is an honorable man. He could very well be involved in some illegal dealings and we wouldn’t want that kind of man in our lives, would we?”

Callie picked up the baby monitor and carried it with her to the third story, which Enid occupied. A large bedroom and bath to the left and a small den to the right. Callie entered the den where Enid was watching television. She set the monitor on an end table.

“It could be midnight before I return,” Callie said.

“I am sorry about being late.” Enid shrugged. “You know how forgetful I am when I’m, er, posing. I’ll pay Mrs. Goodhope for the extra time she had to stay.”

“I’m not worried about the money, Enid. My position with Lonigan’s Imports and Exports pays quite well. What upset me was inconveniencing Mrs. Goodhope as well as Burke.”

“Ah, Burke.”

“Don’t start up with me again. The subject of Burke Lonigan is off-limits.”

“One question?” Enid’s eyes rounded and her lips curved ever so slightly in a beseeching half-smile.

“What?” Callie tilted her head.

“If you decide not to tell Burke that he’s Seamus’s father, are you going to continue working for him?”

Leave it to Enid to cut right to the chase and ask the question that Callie had been trying to avoid. She had so hoped that once she became acquainted with Burke, she’d discover he was a man longing for a wife and children. And she’d been so sure that the wicked rumors about him being an arms dealer were unfounded. Now, she realized she’d been wrong. Burke appeared to have little interest in changing his playboy ways. And the longer she worked for him, the more certain she became that he was hiding something, that he did indeed have a secret life.

Burke removed his silk tie, rolled it up and stuffed it into his pocket, then removed his coat and hung it over the back of his chair. Callie had just called to tell him she was taking a cab to the office. Good, he thought. Working together, they’d be able to sew up the loose ends of the Argentina deal.

When she had rushed home, he had thought about Callie. About their relationship. About how dissatisfied he was with the agreement they’d reached yesterday. He tried to tell himself that they were both better off to maintain a business relationship and forget about becoming personally involved. The only problem with that kind of reasoning was that they were already personally involved.

He wanted her. And she wanted him.

There had been numerous women in Burke’s life. Not as many as people believed, but more than enough to fuel the rumors about him being a playboy. He supposed he’d become spoiled by how easily he was able to charm any lovely lady he wanted. When he’d been younger, any pretty girl would do. Now his vague, haunting memories of one particular woman plagued him. Why, for pity’s sake, couldn’t he remember that woman? He could feel her body, smell her feminine scent, taste the sweetness of her skin and even hear her cries of completion. But he could not see her face. Couldn’t recall one single feature. Didn’t know if she’d been a blonde or a brunette or a redhead.

What he remembered all too vividly was her unselfish, comforting, loving aura. She’d been a temptress and a caretaker. A passionate lover and a sympathetic friend. A seductress. An angel. A Madonna.

And that was why he fancied Callie Severin. She possessed similar qualities. He knew instinctively that if any woman could free him from the tormenting memories of that night, Callie could. You fought fire with fire, didn’t you? Preventive medication for serious illnesses often possessed a mild strain of the disease itself. And that’s what Callie could be for him. Not necessarily a preventive, but a cure.

Alone in the suite of offices that comprised the twentieth floor, Burke tensed when he heard a faint noise. His instincts warned him that he wasn’t alone any longer. And Callie hadn’t had time to return from Kensington. Checking his watch, he reassured himself that it wasn’t time for the maid service’s arrival. So, who was in the office suite with him?

Without taking time to go over every possible scenario, Burke removed his key chain from his pocket, chose a specific key and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He flipped the lid on a metal box and removed the 800 Cougar Beretta from its bed, then picked up his coat and slid the pistol into the pocket. After slipping into the coat, he made his way across the room and into the open reception area between his office and Callie’s. He kept one hand free and the other nestled inside the pocket, resting on the high powered 9mm.

The hallway that led to the elevators was illuminated by recessed lighting that remained dimmed from the time the employees left in the late afternoon until they returned at nine in the morning. But the view was clear. Not a soul in sight. Like a wide painted line, light from Burke’s office spread across the floor in front of and behind him. He eased quietly toward the corridor. Then he heard the sound again. Someone walking. Softly. Almost silently.

How had anyone gotten past the guard downstairs? Burke wondered. But he knew if the intruder was who he thought it was, slipping past a guard and bypassing security codes would have been an easy task.

As if from out of nowhere, a tall shadowy figure in a dark trench coat appeared directly in front of Burke. Instantly tightening his grip on the pistol in his pocket, he prepared to defend himself, if necessary. He looked at the trespasser, who stood a good three inches taller than he.

“Lonigan?” the deep voice asked.

“Yes, I’m Lonigan,” Burke replied. “Who are you?”

“My name is unimportant. Only my business should concern you.”

“Office hours are from nine to five-thirty, Mr….”

The man harrumphed harshly. “I understand you conduct a different sort of business…after hours.”

“And where would you have heard such a rumor?”

“From Haroun al Rachid.”

Burke’s lips spread in a cocky, self-assured smile. With his free hand he gestured a cordial welcome as he said, “Please, come into my office, Mr….”

“Call me Simon.”

The voice possessed a vague familiarity and yet had no accent that Burke could identify. So this was Simon. The man who had been able to elude SPEAR time and again.

“Please, come into my office…Simon,” Burke said.

“After you,” Simon replied

Burke felt uneasy turning his back on a man of Simon’s reputation. An enemy perfectly capable of shooting a person in the back. But Simon wasn’t here to murder the one man who might be able to restore to him his shipment of Russian-made weapons. In a show of supreme confidence, Burke returned to his office. He felt the other man’s presence as Simon followed him.

Burke veered slowly, changing directions, then halted and came face-to-face with the notorious Simon. Although a heavy beard covered most of the man’s face, it wasn’t completely able to camouflage the severe scars. Burn scars, from the look of them, Burke surmised. Taking a casual survey, he noted that his visitor was at least six-three, rock solid and somewhere in his fifties.

“Won’t you sit down?” Burke invited.

Simon glanced at the two chairs across from Burke’s desk. That was when Burke realized the man had a glass eye. His left eye.

Simon took a seat. Burke eased his hip down on the edge of his desk, removed his hand from his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What can I do for you?” Burke glanced at his watch. If she’d had no trouble getting a cab, Callie would be at the office shortly. Damn, that was the last thing he needed. To have Callie interrupt when he was negotiating a deal with Simon.

“A shipment of weapons, belonging to me, was lost somewhere in the Sinai,” Simon explained.

“How unfortunate.”

“It has come to my attention that—somehow—those weapons have found their way into your control.”

“Hm.” Burke rubbed his chin. “Is that what your informants have told you?”

“Have I been misinformed?” Simon glowered at Burke with his good eye. A murky brown eye, the color of muddy water. His glass eye was clearer and a shade darker.

“It so happens that quite recently a shipment of Russian-made weapons did—by circuitous route—come into my hands.”

“My weapons!” Simon’s mouth tightened. His jaw clenched.

“I’m afraid not, old man. Not unless you’re willing to pay for them.”

“Name your price, Lonigan.”

Burke thought he heard the elevator. God, no! Not yet. He couldn’t let Simon and Callie come into contact with each other. Maybe he’d imagined the sound. He sure as hell hoped so.

“Meet me tomorrow,” Burke said, hoping he could get rid of Simon quickly. “We can arrange a suitable time and place to—”

“Not tomorrow. Tonight. I won’t leave here until we’ve reached an agreement.”

Callie hummed a silly tune that she’d recently heard on one of Seamus’s BBC programs as she waited for the elevator to reach the twentieth floor. She’d had the driver stop at the bakery a block from her house, where the proprietor was a friend of Enid’s. Callie lifted the sack to her nose and sniffed the delicious aroma of cinnamon and raisin pastries. She and Burke had skipped dinner, so she thought freshly baked pastries would go nicely with the coffee Burke liked so well.

The elevator doors opened. Callie exited. As she walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the reception area, a odd sensation hit her in the belly. Something wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but her instincts warned her of danger.

Oh, don’t be silly, Callie, she scolded herself. You’ve been seeing things lately, allowing your imagination to run away with you. Sunday, in the park, you thought someone was watching you. And last evening when you got off the tube, you thought someone followed you home. But you didn’t see anyone suspicious either time. And now here you are thinking that you’re in danger in the safety of the Lonigan’s Imports and Exports suite of offices.

When she reached the reception area she noticed that Burke’s door stood slightly ajar and not wide open as she had left it. That doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. You’re being ridiculous.

Then she heard the voice. Not Burke’s voice. Another man’s deep, hard voice. Callie slipped to the door, stopped and listened.

“You’ve heard my offer, Lonigan. It’s a generous one, so don’t tell me that you expect more. I want that shipment delivered tomorrow night. When you produce the weapons, you will receive payment in full.”

Oh, my God! Callie rammed her fist into her mouth to stifle a gasp. There was no doubt in her mind what she had overheard. Burke was in his office, right this minute, brokering an arms deal with someone. The rumors were true! Seamus’s father was an arms dealer. She had read about them, heard about them, these men who provided illegal weapons to the highest bidder, regardless of their political agendas. But in her heart of hearts, she had believed that Burke wasn’t capable of such blatant disregard for the mayhem illegal weapons created around the world.

Why had Burke set up an appointment with this man knowing she would be returning tonight? she wondered. She had rung him before she’d left her house. Was it possible that he thought, as his PA, she would become involved in his secret criminal life? Or had this particular business associate shown up without an appointment?

What should she do? Leave, an inner voice warned. Walk back to the elevators. Take a cab and go home. Call Burke and tell him…tell him what? That Seamus is running a slight fever and you don’t want to leave him. Yes, that sounds reasonable. Go. Go, now!

When she whirled around, she bumped into the edge of the receptionist’s desk. The staple gun, which had been sitting precariously on the edge of the desk, fell and hit the floor with a resounding thud. Damn! Had they heard? She held her breath.

Run! Run like hell, her instincts urged. But before she could move, the door to Burke’s office swung open wide and someone grabbed her from behind. She squealed with fear when the big hand clutched the back of her neck and turned her to meet the most frightening face she’d ever seen. A face from a nightmare.

Callie screamed.

“Let her go!” Burke clamped his hand on the monster’s shoulder.

The man released her and shoved her toward Burke. “I thought your assistant had left for the evening. How unfortunate for her that she returned.”

“Callie, are you all right?” Burke slipped his arm around her, pulled her to his side and ran the back of his hand across her cheek.

Trembling from head to toe, she managed to nod.

“Get rid of her, Lonigan.”

“What?” Callie and Burke spoke simultaneously.

“No doubt your snoopy little assistant heard our conversation,” the man said. “And she’s seen my face. If she didn’t know before about your other business, she does now. She’s a liability, and I expect you to dispose of her.”

Burke kissed Callie. A forceful, lingering kiss on the lips. Callie clung to his arm, seeking support for her shaky legs.

“I’m sorry about this, my darling,” Burke said. “Simon, here, seems to be an overly cautious man.”

“Yes—” Callie cleared her throat. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”

Burke smiled at the man he’d called Simon. “I’m afraid your suggestion to eliminate Callie is out of the question. I assure you that she’s totally trustworthy. She’s privy to all my business dealings. You see, Ms. Severin is more than my personal assistant. She is my fiancée.”

“Your fiancée?” Simon raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, my fiancée. The woman I’m going to marry.”

Simon studied Callie for a couple of minutes, then said threateningly, “If you’re lying to me, Lonigan, you and Ms. Severin are both as good as dead.”