Chapter 1
MAHOGANAND Secrets chapter 1
streaked down the towering glass windows of Cain & Colfax Financial like silver threads against the dark afternoon skyline.
Inside the executive office on the thirty-second floor, everything smelled faintly of leather, bourbon, and polished wood.
Mahogany.
Always mahogany.
The enormous desk dominating the center of the room looked less like furniture and more like a throne carved for a king with expensive taste and very little mercy.
Behind it sat Clifford Cain.
Forty-two years old. Dark hair touched with silver at the temples. White dress shirt rolled halfway to his forearms. Tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d stopped pretending to care about corporate etiquette around noon.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Soul tired.
The kind of tired that came from too many lies, too much money, and too many people wanting pieces of you.
The older woman sitting across from him nervously adjusted the straps of her purse while clutching a résumé in both hands.
Clifford glanced down at the paperwork again.
Deborah Mitchell. Fifty-eight. Twenty years clerical experience.
Perfectly qualified.
And he still wasn't interested.
Not because she’d done anything wrong.
She simply didn’t catch his attention.
That bothered him more than it should have.
He leaned back slowly in the leather chair.
“How many words can you type a minute, Mrs. Mitchell?”
She straightened immediately, grateful for the question.
“Roughly fifty words a minute, sir.”
Clifford nodded once.
“Okay.”
He closed the folder carefully and placed it atop the stack on his desk.
“If you’re hired, you’ll be notified no later than two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.” His voice stayed smooth and professional. “If you don’t hear from us, unfortunately, we filled the position.”
The woman’s smile faltered just slightly.
“I understand.”
He stood politely while she gathered her things.
“Thank you for coming in.”
A moment later the office door opened and closed again, leaving silence behind except for distant thunder rolling across the city.
Clifford exhaled slowly and rubbed tired fingers across his jaw.
Another interview. Another résumé. Another hour wasted.
Then the outer office erupted into a commotion.
A feminine laugh floated through the hallway.
Warm. Bright. Dangerous in a completely different way.
His secretary barely had time to announce her.
“Mr. Cain, your next applica—”
The door opened.
And in walked Daphne Laurent.
Cream-colored blouse. Dark pencil skirt. Pearls resting softly against her throat. Long dark hair falling over one shoulder in loose waves still damp from the rain.
She carried a folder against her chest while trying to juggle an oversized handbag at the same time.
“Oh goodness,” she laughed softly, bending down quickly as papers slipped from the folder onto the polished floor.
And Clifford Cain got one hell of a view straight down her blouse.
His eyes locked there before his brain caught up with him.
Soft lace. Smooth skin. The unmistakable outline of hardened nipples pressing against silk from the cold rain outside.
Daphne looked up and caught him looking.
Instead of getting offended...
She giggled.
Actually giggled.
A tiny pink flush spread across her cheeks as she gathered the papers.
“Well,” she murmured playfully, “this is one way to make an entrance.”
Something inside Clifford shifted.
Fast.
The exhaustion vanished from his face almost instantly.
Now he looked awake.
Interested.
Dangerously interested.
He stepped around the desk slowly and crouched beside her, helping gather the scattered papers from the floor.
Their fingers brushed.
Tiny contact.
Tiny spark.
But enough to make both of them pause.
Daphne glanced at him beneath thick dark lashes.
And Clifford suddenly had the strange feeling that this woman walking into his office soaking wet from the rain was about to ruin his entire life.
