Lay with me. Those three little whispered words had almost been his undoing last night and still preoccupied him this morning. Adam adjusted his tie for the hundredth time. The boardroom was stifling as he tried to concentrate on the droning voices of the two men across the massive gleaming table. He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze at the endless charts and graphs spread out before him while they continued to beseech their case for their company's salvation.

I really need this...please. That plead, so urgently spoken, crumbled his resolve. Toppled it over as if it was nothing more than a child's building blocks. Adam cursed softly. He'd considered refusing her request, but found he couldn't. As much as he wanted to walk away, the desire to embrace her in his arms triumphed over any misgivings he carried. Surely, he was adult enough to hold a woman in his bed for a few minutes until she fell asleep without it succumbing to a deeper meaning.

Adam ran an agitated hand through his hair. He was a fucking lunatic is what he was. Lying next to her had been the most exquisite torture he'd ever endured. The sweetness of her tiny body cuddled up next to his while the warm vanilla scent of her blanketed him...

"Your thoughts Mr. Steele?"

Adam jerked his head up, only to discover everyone in the boardroom was waiting for his response to a question he hadn't been paying attention to. The business world's equivalent of being caught with your pants down.

"I think my brother has been more than clear on that particular subject, Mr. Moore," Jonathan intervened and Adam sent him a grateful nod.

"But you would be laying off thousands of workers. Some of these people have been with us from the beginning. They'll lose everything!" Mr. Moore pounded a fist on the table, upsetting one of the many coffee carafes and sending the liquid out like a tidal wave across the lacquered surface.

Business men and women scrambled out of the way, grabbing and trying to save papers and electronic devices as they went. A young lady from the catering service scurried over with a towel to stem the flow before it could do anymore damage. Her wide, shy smile focused on Adam as she did little more than spread the coffee further across the table.

"Might I suggest this meeting adjourn for lunch until they can get this cleared up? We'll meet back here in," Jonathan glanced at his watch, "two hours? I am sure we could all use the break," his brother drawled as he tucked papers into his leather suitcase.

"Agreed," Mr. Moore huffed. He turned scowling to Adam. "Maybe by then you can find our conscience and decide whether or not you have a soul." With that, he and his steam stormed out of the conference room door.

Adam said nothing as he gathered up the business proposals and charts he'd been ignoring since the moment he sat down. He frowned at one of the pie charts showing a future prediction of a device still in the testing phase. It wasn't like him to lose focus. This company was a failure from every possible angle. There was nothing left to salvage except strip and liquidate whatever assists they still managed to retain. To allow Mr. Moore any opportunity to glimmer hope from his daydreaming was detrimental. The whole affair should have been over within the first 30 minutes of them sitting down.

"Adam?" Jonathan calling his name brought him back from his thoughts.

"What?"

"I asked where would you like to have lunch," his brother chuckled, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"I'll be taking lunch in my office," Adam snapped, brushing past his brother.

He handed off the stack of papers to Marissa as she sat at her desk. "Have these collated and put in order. I want them back on my desk in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," she answered primly.

Storming past her, Adam entered his office. He needed to know if she was alright. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to hear her pleasing voice, he told himself as he took off his jacket and threw it across the couch while marching to his desk. Flopping into his chair, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial to the penthouse.

"Steele residence." A formal voice answered belonging to Joan, his housekeeper.

"Mrs. Harris, I have a guest staying with me for the next few days. I want you to make available to her whatever she requires."

"Yes, Mr. Steele. Which guest room is she occupying and I will check to see what she would like for breakfast."

"She's...not in a guest room," Adam muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "She's in the master suite."

"Oh..." The housekeeper paused.

"Do you have a problem with that Mrs. Harris?" Adam asked briskly, not feeling the need to explain his actions to anyone, least of all his housekeeper.

"Oh no, sir. Not at all. It's just that I've already been up to your room and collected the laundry and...it was...empty...sir."

"Empty?" Shock flooded his system which soon gave way to panic. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. There was not a thing out of place, except for an envelope addressed to you placed on the bed. I set it in your office on your desk, sir."

Gone. The word crashed into his brain with all the delicacy of a battering ram.

"Thank you, Joan." Adam pushed end on the call, his thumb mindlessly flicking over the screen until a picture of her appeared.

The image of her curled up in peaceful slumber, her hair fanned across his pillows, shined up at him from the cell phone. Gone. This girl who has me in a downward tailspin since the moment I met her has disappeared from my life as quickly as she entered into it and I don't even know her fucking name, he thought dismally.

Gone. No last goodbye...no thank you...nothing. Adam touched the side of her face in the photo that preyed upon his every thought inadvertently enlarging it. He sighed. She was perfect, her pale skin so smooth he imagined he could still feel it beneath his fingertips. He remembered the way her hair had slipped down her back and shoulders when it was finally released from the confines of the pins. He remembered the feel of it under his palm as he had caressed it after her nightmare. The smell of her tears, the tremble of her lush body...everything. He remembered every minute detail of her from those melancholy grey eyes to the bubble gum pink color of her toenails. And now...she was gone. Fuck!

Last night had been pure torment. She'd been so tight against him, not even a whisper could have fit between their bodies. Each breathy sigh as she slept, he could feel against his skin. It took all the willpower he possessed to not roll her under him and make love to her. Every time she shifted slightly, the urge grew and yet, he resisted his primal desires. A real fucking Boy Scout you are Steele.

Why did she leave? Dark suspicion mixed with jealousy crept into his mind. Dammit! He had promised nothing would happen to her and he had kept that promise. Wasn't that enough to gain a minuscule amount of her trust? Didn't he prove it last night he was trustworthy when she fell asleep tucked into his arms? Perhaps she was in a hurry to abandon his embrace for the loving arms of her boyfriend. He snorted. A boyfriend who obviously didn't give a damn about her safety. What kind of man allows his woman to work in a joint like the Kit Cat Club?

Granted...it was drag queens mostly, but still, it certainly wasn't by no means safe. What happened with Hanover was proof to how vulnerable she could be. Not to mention she'd been walking home. What kind of asshole couldn't be bothered to pick up his woman and subjected her to tromping the streets in the middle of the fucking night all alone? Adam growled, turning his chair and looking out into the desolate grey of another rainy New York day.

He was in the process of staring moodily out at the landscape when Jonathan sauntered in.

"I don't recall asking you to join me," Adam grumbled, not bothering to turn to face him.

"Lucky for you, my lunch date cancelled."

"And how does someone having the good sense to cancel make me lucky?"

"Because it allows me to be available to help you resolve whatever issue is causing you to behave like an imbecile."

"You're wasting your time, there is nothing which needs to be sorted out."

"Oh really? Huh...that's odd, because I could have sworn you made me draw up papers to exterminate yet another deficient company and instead, I've been sitting in your boardroom listening to the head of that very company evangelize all the ways Steele Industries could save it while you sat there drifting off to la-la land."

Adam whirled around. "I am sure you will bill me for the overtime. Now, if you are through, I have work to do," he dismissed his brother with a scowl.

"So you are considering his proposal then?"

"Which proposal?" Adam asked through gritted teeth, avoiding his brother's bluff.

"You tell me, there were several." Jonathan sat down in one of the plush leather chairs, crossing his legs and examining his manicure.

"I do believe I have already informed you I have work to do. For most, that would indicate I am working on it."

Jonathan laughed. "Why don't you just admit you have no clue as to what I am referring to and we can end this little tit for tat session?"

A quick knock sounded on the door. Adam stopped growling at his brother long enough to call them to enter. Marissa appeared carrying a stack of paperwork, efficiently setting it in front of him.

"Will that be all, Mr. Steele?" she asked.

"Yes..."

"No," Jonathan interrupted, standing up. He walked over to Marissa and swept her into a dramatic dip. "When are you going to leave this slave driver and come work for me?" he implored, kissing her soundly on the cheek.

Marissa giggled, a sound Adam didn't think he'd ever heard before. "You are a charmer, Mr. Steele, but my husband would have your head on a platter."

Jonathan grabbed his heart in a mocking gesture. "You wound me, Marissa. Speaking of Frank, how is the old man?"

"He's fine and looking forward to thoroughly emasculating you again Friday at your squash game." She smiled.

"He'd better be careful, I've been practicing." Jonathan winked.

"If you are through molesting my staff?" Adam fumed at his brother. "Would you please fetch us two of my usual for lunch?" he asked, turning to Marissa.

"Of course, sir." She nodded her head at the two brothers and quickly walked out of the office.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't manhandle my assistant or are you trying to get sued for sexual harassment?" he hissed.

"Relax, Marissa knows it's all in good fun and usually, so do you." Jonathan resumed his seat. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you or are you going to sit there all day moping and growling at people?"

"I don't mope."

"He said mopingly."

Adam sighed and turned his chair away from his annoying and persistent brother. "She's gone," he mumbled.

"Who's gone?"

"Trixie," Adam answered softly.

"The stripper?"

Spinning his chair around, Adam slammed his fist on the desk. "She's not a stripper!" he shouted.

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender. "Okay...okay...calm down before you pop a valve. I assume you didn't take her home this morning?"

"No. I...she was injured. I expected she would remain sequestered where I left her."

"Pesky women, never do stay put unless, of course, bonds are involved." Jonathan winked and laughed as Adam rolled his eyes. "In all seriousness brother, perhaps it's for the best." Jonathan got up and walked around the desk, clasping Adam's shoulder. "The adverse effect this female has on you isn't good for business."

"As touching as your concern for my welfare is, since when are you worried about my business?" Adam taunted through thinned lips, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his brother.

"Oh come on Adam!" Jonathan left his side to pace. "The kill is what you live for. I have never seen you allow anyone to beg for mercy when it comes time to strike. This...girl is turning you soft." He turned and faced Adam, worry on his face. "Which is not a bad thing, but here," he waved a hand around the office, "it's a death sentence."

"Maybe, little brother, I have changed my mind," Adam said quietly, narrowing his eyes. "Unlike you, I don't need to weld a whip to assert my power."

Jonathan snorted. "If you are wanting to burn money, you can save yourself the trouble and hand it over to me. I could use a new yacht...maybe a private island. There's a delightful Global Express private jet I've had my eye on for months now."

Adam chuckled, while he flipped through the paperwork Marissa had returned to him. He may have been in la-la land, as Jonathan called it, but something did catch his attention earlier in-between thoughts of her. His heart skipped a beat. Fuck...he didn't even have to say the name and his body reacted.

Finally finding what he'd been searching for while his brother ticked off a rather extensive wish list, he pulled out a pen and circled the one small saving grace for Mr. Moore. The man had had a brilliant idea.

"I hate to bother your imaginary shopping trip, but this," he shoved the paper towards Jonathan, "is what is going to help pay for your new jet."

Jonathan frowned, picking it up and quickly scanning it...a grin grew across his face as the realization dawned on him. "Well, I guess we have the stripper to thank for this." At the thunderous expression on Adam's face, he recoiled. "Sorry...Trixie."

Adam sat back in his chair and allowed a smug smile. "I will need you to contact Mr. Moore wherever he is and inform him we will be revising the proposal which will ultimately save his precious company and his workers on the condition that he agrees to our stipulations."

Jonathan pulled out his phone. "Anything else?"

"Yes, I have one more task for you." Adam flipped open his laptop, struck a few keys then hit send. "I want you to find any information you can dig up on that name."

Jonathan's phone announced an incoming e-mail and he brought it up. A confused look replaced his typical self-assured expression. "Jo Jo Mayfield? Who is that and why am I on detective duty?"

"Weren't you bragging last night about wanting to be a Hardy brother? Here's your opportunity."

Later that night, Adam was lounging on his couch trying to read current P&L statements to no avail. Sipping on his wine, he tossed the papers on the coffee table and gave up the pretense. Rising from the sofa, he walked over to the windows with his glass and stared blankly out into the darkness.

Annie Lennox crooned seductively in the background. Her plaintive cries about bewitching her lover, struck a chord deep inside him and he wondered where his seductress was out there in the night. Was she safe? Was she thinking about him or was she in the arms of another?

Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he pulled out the letter she'd written and read it again by moonlight.

Dear Mr. Steele,

I wanted to say thank you for all your kindness and generosity. I appreciate everything you did. Well...except the running me over part. :)

I can't accept such an extravagant tip. After all, you didn't even get your drink order and I don't feel comfortable accepting it.

Thank you for rescuing me for one night. I have decided you are neither the Big Bad Wolf nor a Boy Scout, but my knight in shining armor for one extraordinary evening. I will never forget you.

Sincerely,

Trixie

Adam ran a thumb over her handwriting, his lips twitching at the little smiley face. He had forgotten about the tip money, but she hadn't and downright checkmated his move by leaving it behind. Touché.

What was it about this woman that haunted him? He wanted her in his bed, no doubt, but it went beyond simple lust. Was it the chase? The challenge of conquering the one woman who refused him around every turn? Or was it simply just...her.

The ringing of his cell interrupted his searching thoughts. Walking over to the couch, he sat his glass on the coffee table and picked up the call from his brother as he sat back down.

"Jonathan."

"She's a dude!!" His brother's exclamation made him pull the phone away from his ear.