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      CHAPTER ONE

      MEMPHIS James stood on the twenty-second floor of the downtown Miami building and looked down at the camera crew on the street below, spectators lining the barricade like curious ants. There was only one chance to get the high-fall right—no do-overs possible. Along with the stunt engineer, Memphis had meticulously checked and rechecked every detail, including his harness, the cable hoist and the wind conditions. No matter how crazy the stunt, death wasn’t likely—more of a distant possibility that hinged on either mechanical error or miscalculation, so nothing was left to chance. Memphis never left anything to chance.

      It was a necessary compulsion in this twisted business of mocking gravity. Because if his focus was off, mistakes were made and he could be killed or, at the very least, sustain a dream-crushing injury.

      Or worse … someone else might pay the price.

      For one second the memory resurfaced, just like it always did before a high-fall. In a now-familiar sequence of reactions, Memphis’s chest cinched tight, his stomach balled into a knot and his heart beat mercilessly against his ribs.

      Willing his muscles to relax, Memphis forced the memory from his mind as he gazed down at the two-hundred-plus feet between him and the empty pavement. There was nothing to break his fall save the camera on the ground that would record his descent. His lips twisted wryly. He liked the idea that if something went wrong—and he hit the pavement traveling approximately eighty miles per hour—his last seconds on earth would be recorded for posterity.

      If he was checking out, he’d do it with flair and with his name on everyone’s lips.

      The stunt engineer broke into his thoughts. “Everything’s set. Wind speed steady at five mph.”

      With one last look at the ground below, Memphis said, “That’s as good as we’ll get.”

      “You ready?”

      Now rock-steady, his pulse at a regular rate, Memphis took his position in front of the temporary window constructed of safety glass. “I’m always ready.” A grin slipped up his face. “But gravity is a bitch of a mistress.”

      “An unforgiving one, to be sure,” the man returned with a chuckle.

      Memphis’s grin grew bigger in anticipation. “So let’s not keep her waiting.”

      One hand clutching the barricade, Kate Anderson shaded her eyes from the sun and stared up at the tiny hub of activity twenty-two stories above the ground. A gentle breeze carried a hint of the salty Atlantic Ocean tinged with hot pavement, and the crowd of curious gawkers pressed in around her, making the warm Miami day even warmer.

      Or maybe it was her strained nerves that were overheating.

      Up until now, self-preservation had deemed it necessary she ignore Memphis James’s return to town. But today’s tabloid article about Dalton and his fiancée had garnered Kate no less than eight sympathetic glances, three well-intentioned condolence hugs and one unsolicited pep talk from a bitter divorceé—all while simply waiting in line at the local café. As the recent ex-wife of Miami’s favorite homegrown politician, fading into the background was impossible for Kate, especially with a heavy social schedule looming ahead. And for the first time since she’d started dating Dalton at sixteen, she was faced with the prospect of attending an event by herself.

      The pitying looks she’d received from complete strangers were bad enough, but the public scrutiny was bound to get worse. Imagine how awful the tabloid headlines would be if she showed up at her high-school reunion alone?

       Former Prom Queen Jilted by Her Onetime King

       Spurned Kate Anderson Attends Reunion Solo

      Inhaling a calming breath, she forced her muscles to relax and renewed her resolve to ask Memphis for help, even if he was her childhood nemesis turned hot-shot stuntman … and a living reminder of the biggest mistake of her life. Apprehension threatened to

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