LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I have my sources,” he said.

      And that chilled her blood even more. “I am well aware of that,” she said. “But I can’t believe they actually got it right this time.”

      He stopped at the elevator and turned toward her, his dark eyes narrowed. “So all those witnesses were lying and you’re the only one telling the truth?”

      “Yes,” she said. Her grandparents had raised her with values—one of which being that it was never okay to lie, not even little white ones. Too bad those witnesses hadn’t been raised the same way she had.

      “Why would everyone else lie?” Ronan asked her.

      “You tell me,” she challenged him. “Did you pay them?” He must have. What else could they have had to gain, except for some time in the horrible spotlight that the scandal had shone on her?

      He chuckled. But he didn’t answer her question. He just turned and pressed the button for the elevator.

      What would it take to get him to confess to somehow coercing those witnesses into lying? He was rich. So he didn’t need money. He had probably used his own to pay them off since Arte hadn’t had much money until he’d taken most of her savings—and the apartment and car—in the divorce. He didn’t even know how to drive.

      The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open with a swoosh of noise and air. Muriel sucked in a breath at the thought of getting into another elevator with Ronan Hall.

      He stepped back and waited for her to pass through the doors in front of him. “Come on,” he said. “As long as you don’t mess with the control panel this time, we’ll be fine.”

      She hesitated. “We could take the stairs...” It would probably be safer—for a few reasons.

      “We’re on the twelfth floor,” he reminded her. “Did you take the stairs up?”

      “No.”

      “So you don’t have a problem with using the elevator,” he said as if he was cross-examining her again, the way he had on the witness stand. “You just have a problem with taking the elevator with me.”

      While his cross-examination had been ruthless, he hadn’t shaken her. But then, she’d had the resolve of the truth on her side. He didn’t have that, so maybe she could shake him. But she was not going to get a confession out of him unless she was alone with him. Dare she go through with her plan? Dare she be alone with him?

      Because she knew what was going to happen...

      The attraction between them was too strong—so strong that it could probably even overpower the anger and resentment and distrust between them.

      She stepped into the elevator car. And when she automatically reached for the control panel, she pulled her hand back to her side. She was not going to risk getting stuck with him again.

      He chuckled as he stepped inside with her. Then he reached for the panel. She didn’t see which button he pushed; she just assumed it was for the lobby. In the heart of the Garment District, the building’s tenants were mostly fashion designers along with a few photographers. There was no place to have a drink there.

      Muriel really needed that drink. Hell, she needed more than a drink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. And she was not the type of model who starved herself. She enjoyed food too much.

      Fortunately, the fashion industry appreciated curves now over skin and bones. Or she wouldn’t have been able to get any work. Now she was sought after...

      Professionally. Personally—not so much. Men weren’t eager to date the man-eater the media had painted her as being. She’d overheard people talking about how she was too intimidating to the opposite sex now.

      Ronan Hall hadn’t appeared too intimidated the other night. And he must not have been or he wouldn’t have sought her out again.

      The doors closed, shutting them into the stark car together. This elevator wasn’t nearly as fancy as the one in her building; it was all bare metal and wood, and it was bigger—big enough to carry crates of garments from one floor to the next.

      She didn’t have to stand anywhere near Ronan. But it didn’t matter how far away she was from him; she could feel his presence. It was as if electricity arced between his body and hers.

      Her skin tingled, and her blood heated, pumping hot and fast through her veins. “We should go somewhere with a kitchen,” she said. “I’m hungry, too.”

      She felt a hollowness inside, but she wasn’t sure that it was one food could fill. Maybe only he could...

      He reached for the panel again, jabbed a button and the elevator shuddered to a stop.

      “I’m hungry, too,” he said as he reached for her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and reeled her in until her body pressed against his. He was so big, so broad, so tense.

      His erection strained against his pants—and against her hips. Instinctively she arched and rubbed against him, and he groaned.

      “And with every outfit you changed into, I got hungrier,” he said.

      “You didn’t have to stay.” But she’d been glad that he was still there—every time she had stepped out of the dressing room after a wardrobe change. She’d wanted him to see what she was wearing; she’d wanted him to see her, and she’d wanted to see his reaction.

      “I couldn’t leave,” he said, his voice gruffer now as if he was in pain.

      “Why not?” she asked.

      “Because I didn’t get what I came for...”

      “And what did you come for?” she asked.

      He lowered his head to hers and kissed her—deeply—hungrily. His lips moved over hers, nibbling and plucking at them until she gasped with pleasure.

      “I came for you,” he said, his voice a gruff whisper. “I came for this...”

      His hands moved over her, lifting her sweater up and over her head. He uttered a lustful sigh. “I was hoping you were still wearing this...”

      It was the black bra with the bow in the middle. Bette was a genius designer. She somehow made the bras so that the one bow held the cups together and provided support. Muriel’s breasts swelled over the top of it.

      “Why?” she asked, and she wasn’t faking the breathlessness in her voice. Her heart was racing so fast that she could barely draw any air into her lungs. But as she tried, her breasts swelled even more and nearly spilled over the top of the black bra.

      Ronan reached for that bow, tugging on the ribbons, and the bra fell away, freeing her breasts. She panted for air now as excitement coursed through her. Her nipples tightened and ached for more than the touch of his gaze.

      “That’s why,” he replied. “I’ve been dying to undo that bow.”

      Muriel had been modeling lingerie and swimsuits for most of her career, so she had long ago gotten over any qualms she might have had about modesty. But there was something about the way that Ronan Hall was looking at her that made her feel more naked than she had ever felt before.

      He wasn’t just looking at her body. It was as if he was trying to peer into her heart and soul. Maybe he was wondering if she had one.

      She did. She doubted that he did, though. So what the hell was she doing getting half-naked in an elevator with the man who had nearly destroyed her?

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