NLIKE LARGE FUND-RAISERS, the Children’s Hospital benefit was an elite annual affair with an invitation list containing only 350 names, each name chosen based on the individual’s exceptional charitable-spending habits. An elaborate dinner was served and a silent auction took place during the evening, with items that included fabulous artwork, museum-quality jewelry, and an occasional priceless antique. Opening bids for the least of the auction items began at $50,000, and tables for ten began at $100,000 each.

Each year, a philanthropist was honored during the dinner portion of the evening, with the mayor of Chicago making the presentation. This year, the honoree, for the fifth time, was Cecil Wyatt.

The location chosen for this year’s benefit was the Founders Club, which occupied the top two floors of Endicott Tower, a spectacular eighty-story octagon made of stone and glass, located in downtown Chicago.

Membership in the Founders Club was originally limited to wealthy descendants of Chicago’s founding families, but since many of those descendants had failed to maintain the wealth of their forebears—or had committed crimes even more horrendous than that—the Founders Club had loosened its membership restrictions. Currently, in order to be considered for membership, the candidate had only to have had “a significant presence in the Chicago area” for the past one hundred years and to be able to afford annual dues of $50,000. However, as a safeguard, membership was “by invitation only from the board of directors,” which prevented the “wrong sort of persons” who otherwise qualified for membership from applying and becoming a nuisance when they were rejected.

Once a coveted membership was granted, the new member was entitled to enjoy the club’s spectacular views, its sumptuous luncheon and dinner menus, and, of course, bragging rights.

No expense had been spared on the interior decor of the club; it was designed to impress, and it did. To assist in that goal, the private elevator’s lobby was on the second floor of the club, and was an eight-sided rotunda with an elaborate wrought-iron railing around it that guided new arrivals toward a sweeping staircase that curved gracefully downward to the first floor. A grand chandelier, one story in height, was suspended from the center of the second-floor ceiling, its many-tiered gold frame dripping with magnificent crystals.

At the front of the room, standing near their table, Matt Farrell watched his wife walking slowly through the crowd on the first floor, and he excused himself to the people around him.

“Looking for someone?” he asked, walking up behind her as she stood gazing up at the second-floor rotunda, where the silent-auction items were displayed.

“Just checking to make sure everything is going well.” She was in charge of this year’s benefit, and she’d been working on it for months, dealing with the various committees and the endless details, as well as handling her demanding job as Bancroft & Company’s CEO.

Matt looked up at the people on the second floor, moving from table to table with glasses of champagne in their hands, writing down bids, talking and laughing, while a string quartet played in the curve of the staircase. On the main floor, the candlelit tables were laid with sparkling crystal and china, and decorated with spectacular sprays of cream-and-red bicolor roses from South America, blooms the size of softballs.

“More than half of the people are upstairs with pens in their hands, and an army of waiters is passing out drinks to make sure they stay loose. You’re a guaranteed success. And,” he whispered tenderly, “you are also very beautiful.”

She sent him a beaming smile, tucked her hand through his arm, gave it a squeeze, and then she nodded toward the head table, where the guest of honor was talking to the mayor.

Matt suppressed a grimace. “Leave it to Cecil Wyatt to check himself out of the hospital so he can walk up to another podium and accept another award.” As if to wash away a bad taste, he swallowed the last of the champagne in his glass. A waiter arrived instantly with a tray of refills. “How much,” he teased her, “did you budget for liquor?”

“A lot,” she admitted. “Look, there’s Mitchell,” she added a moment later. She watched him smiling politely as group after group of his new “family friends” stopped to say hello to him or introduce themselves for the first time.

When Cecil arrived at Mitchell’s elbow and drew him aside a moment later, Meredith shook her head a little as if to clear it. “I still can’t get used to seeing Mitchell with Cecil. We’ve known Mitchell for so long, and he’s stayed with us so many times, that I can’t believe he waited six months to tell us he was Cecil’s grandson. If we hadn’t seen him at Cecil’s birthday party, I’m not sure we’d know it now.”

“How thrilled would you be to find out you’re related to a domineering, egocentric old man? Oh, wait... you’re already related to one of those,” Matt teased, and Meredith burst out laughing; then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Shhh,” she whispered, “my father is right behind you.”

“That’s not good. Change places with me,” he joked. “I don’t like having my back turned to him.”

He was half serious about the last part, Meredith knew, and for good reason. Her father had destroyed their marriage when they were young, and when Matt strode back into her life ten years later, her father tried to interfere again and almost lost Meredith in the process. For her sake, Matt tolerated her father, but he’d never forgiven him, and he never would.

“I’m indebted to him tonight for persuading the Founders Club to let us use this place for our benefit,” she said. “It was a real feather in our cap.”

“He didn’t do it for you,” Matt teased. “He did it to show me that he could still do something for you that I can’t do. Former steelworkers from Gary, Indiana, can’t be members here, no matter how successful they become. Do you know how I know that?”

Meredith’s shoulders shook with laughter, because she had a pretty good idea what the answer was. “How do you know that, darling?”

“Your father told me. Fifty times. This week alone.”

Meredith smiled, but her attention had reverted to Mitchell. “Oh, look, Olivia Hebert has him by the arm. It’s so funny to see him squiring a little old lady, instead of some gorgeous woman with an exotic name, and he does it with such patience and élan.”

“Mitchell does everything with élan,” Matt replied, drily, “and it’s easy for him to be patient tonight, because he knows he’s leaving for Europe tomorrow. He told me he can’t wait to put an ocean between himself and Chicago.”

Meredith’s expression clouded. “Something’s been bothering him.”

“Something other than being accused of murdering his brother, having to surrender his passport, and being forced to remain in the city until Gray Elliott checked out his story, you mean?”

Meredith ignored the irony in his tone and nodded emphatically. “Something besides that. Those problems are over, and since Caroline is with him tonight, she’s obviously accepted that he had nothing to do with William’s death. Whatever is on his mind isn’t related to any of that.”

“I haven’t noticed anything different about him.”

“Men don’t notice subtleties about other men,” she said with a sigh. “Has it occurred to you that he’s never mentioned Kate to us? She was so important to him that he was going to fly back and forth to the Caribbean to see her every night, but he hasn’t mentioned her once. I tried to work around to the subject a few days ago by asking him if there was anyone special in his life. He said no.”

“Mitchell doesn’t talk about the women in his life.”

“Mitchell called Zack in Rome to talk about Kate,” Meredith argued. “I wonder what happened to her.”

“She never went aboard the yacht. When Zack asked him what happened, Mitchell said ‘things got complicated,’ ” Matt reminded her, as a waiter with a tray of canapés stopped at his side.

“I know. Oh, well, I guess that leaves the way clear for Marissa.”

Matt paused, his arm outstretched toward the tray. “Our daughter, Marissa?”

“When I kissed her good night, she told me she’s decided to marry Mitchell when she’s old enough.”

“I’m not ready for this,” he declared, finally selecting a canapé from the tray.

Meredith grinned. “Your future son-in-law appears to be making his way in our direction.”

“KATE,” HOLLY SAID sympathetically, “we can’t spend the night in the ladies’ lounge. Drink this and let’s go.” As she spoke, Holly removed Kate’s empty champagne glass from her trembling hand and substituted her own glass for it. “Bottoms up,” she coaxed.

“Mitchell is down there,” Kate said, her voice shaking with nerves. “I saw him from the balcony.”

“I know that. Now, let’s make sure he sees you.”

“I’m not ready to go out there.”

“Yes, you are.”

Mindlessly, Kate sipped her glass of champagne, the second one in ten minutes. “How do I look?”

Holly strolled around her for a final inspection. Reminiscent of the slinky, glamorous gowns worn in 1930s movies, Kate’s pewter satin gown was bias cut, with a heart-shaped bodice and a narrow halter strap that made a V between her breasts. To complement the gown’s retro look, her hair had been styled into smooth waves and swept back on one side, held in place with an antique amethyst-and-diamond comb borrowed from Evan’s mother. “I love that Veronica Lake hairstyle on you,” Holly decreed. “That antique comb will make everyone think your earrings are real instead of costume jewelry,” she added, admiring the mock amethyst-and-diamond earrings dangling from Kate’s ears partway to her shoulders.

They both hesitated while two women who’d been using the adjoining bathroom walked through the mirrored lounge area. The women smiled and nodded as they strolled past, then they opened the door to leave and a blast of laughter and music filled the lounge.

Holly waited until the door closed again; then she removed the empty champagne glass from Kate’s fingers, and took Kate’s hands in hers. “I promised you that I’d coach you and tell you how to get through this,” she said, looking solemnly into Kate’s wide, overbright green eyes. “And I deliberately waited until now, when the moment is at hand.”

Turning Kate toward the mirror, she said, “Look at yourself. You are absolutely stunning. This is your night, Kate. It’s your debut as Evan’s future wife, and tonight you’re going to find that even the biggest snobs here will welcome you as one of their own. They already know you’re not a trashy gold digger; you’re the daughter of a Chicago restaurateur who was something of a celebrity in his own right. You’re his successor. You also have a natural elegance and poise that people notice, and you have a warm heart that makes you infinitely appealing. Are you following me so far?”

Embarrassed by all the flattery, Kate smiled and said, “I’m following that, tonight, you want me to think I’m wonderful.”

“You are wonderful. Now, this brings us to Mitchell Wyatt. Sometime in the next couple of hours, you’re going to come face-to-face with him—” Three women, laughing and talking, walked into the lounge to check their makeup, and Holly and Kate both turned to the mirror, pretending they were doing the same thing.

Kate reached into her purse for her lipstick, but her entire body was in flight mode at the thought of looking into Mitchell’s blue eyes and seeing that hard, handsome face again. He’d made her laugh, he’d made her moan with pleasure, and then he’d held her in his arms as if he never wanted to let her go. Worse, much worse, he’d made her care so much that she thought she was in love him.

And then he’d sent her back to break up with Evan, never intending to be there when she returned.

Viewed with the clarity of hindsight, she realized now that everything Mitchell did from the moment she met him—even sending for an ambulance and doctor to help Max—was done to ensure the accomplishment of his ultimate goal. There was no doubt in her mind now that he’d sent her that Bloody Mary himself and then sauntered into the restaurant to introduce himself. In fact, just thinking about the way he’d made a date with her after she spilled the drink on him made her grind her teeth: “If I were you, I’d offer to take me to dinner...” Of all the egotistical, cocky, overconfident...

He must have been amazed and very pleased when he introduced himself and she didn’t recognize his name. Her ignorance made it so much easier for him, and so much more fun, as he seduced Evan Bartlett’s witless girlfriend.

“Stop going over everything he did in your mind!” Holly said urgently, the instant the other women departed. “Just for tonight, you have to forget all the awful details and be completely objective, or you won’t be able to pull this off! The simple reality is this: Mitchell Wyatt is a man with an ego that’s so fragile he needed to seduce you to get even with Evan for knowing his secret.

“If you’d agreed to jump into bed with him after the two of you had dinner at the villa, it would have been over with that night and you wouldn’t have gotten emotionally involved. Instead, you insisted on knowing something about him first, so he had to come back to you and tell you about his brother; then he had to start actively seducing you in the garden. Once he realized you weren’t going to sleep with him in Evan’s hotel room, he had to get a hotel in St. Maarten. In St. Maarten, he warned you not to have any illusions or false expectations about going to bed with him. He told you he didn’t want complications or ‘magic,’ he just wanted an afternoon of good sex with you. Again, you turned down his offer, so he had to come back at you with that ‘Let’s get complicated—I felt everything you did last night’ routine.”

“Are you saying that what happened was partly my fault?”

“God, no! I’m trying to make you see that hurting you wasn’t his actual goal; his goal was to either coerce Evan’s silence or bring Evan down to his level by having a fling with Evan’s girlfriend.”

Kate shivered at the coldness of his logic and the ruthlessness of his methods.

“I’ll tell you something I haven’t said before,” Holly continued. “I think that, at some point, Wyatt had a better time with you than he expected. Otherwise, he’d have patted you on the butt when he finished having sex with you the first time and sent you back to the villa.”

“Why would he do that when I was such an eager, cooperative bed partner?” Kate said with bitter self-recrimination.

“That’s a good point, but why would he also take you to a casino, and, most revealing of all, why would he sit up in bed with you and watch the sunrise? Guys who only want sex from a woman, roll off her afterward and go to sleep.”

To Kate’s shame, she clutched at that morsel of consolation, not because she believed it, but because she desperately needed something to reduce the humiliation she felt.

“However,” Holly continued brightly, “that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cold, calculating bastard with a giant ego and that you’re entitled to exact whatever petty revenge you can tonight.”

“How can I do that?” Kate asked, leaning back against the vanity table and eyeing Holly with fascination.

“You have to treat him as if he was nothing but a completely forgettable flirtation.”

“He’s not going to buy that. He knew how I felt. I left to go and break up with Evan and promised to hurry back.”

“Yes, but he can’t be one hundred percent sure you did it! Furthermore, he can’t be one hundred percent sure that you weren’t just using him as a temporary stud in Evan’s absence. In fact, he can’t be one hundred percent sure that you didn’t know who he was all along and that your goal wasn’t to pry some juicy details about his life out of him to share with all your friends!”

“Who would do such a thing?” Kate scoffed.

“The women in your new social circle—which also happens to be the same social circle he’s accustomed to,” Holly said flatly. “Believe me, I know what they’re like. I grew up in their Temple of Brittle Humor and Barren Hearts. Evan understands instinctively how the game needs to be played, that’s why he wanted you to be here tonight. He’ll make sure Wyatt sees you with him, laughing and talking and holding your head up. In doing that, Evan will be illustrating to Wyatt that he’s so insignificant that nothing he does could possibly matter to either of you.”

“And to think,” Kate said with a rueful smile, “I’m supposed to be the one with the knowledge of psychology.”

“They don’t write psychology books to cover the mind-set of the elite few. Anyway, you get the picture now, right?”

“Right.”

“So, here is theonly emotion you’re allowed to display when you bump into Wyatt tonight. Here is the only emotion that will get you some revenge—”

“I give up,” Kate said, smiling at Holly’s dramatic pause. “What is it?”

“Amusement! You are going to treat him with amusement —as if you know an amusing little secret that he doesn’t know about.”

“What sort of secret knowledge could I possibly have?” Kate asked, frustrated.

“That is the very question he’ll start asking himself. That is the question that will trouble him for a long time.”

MATT ANDMEREDITH exchanged smiling glances with Mitchell as he tried to maneuver his aunt in their direction while she clung to his arm, chattering happily and making him stop every few steps so she could introduce him to someone else. He was over a foot taller than she, and in order to hear her, he had to tip his head way down.

Matt walked over to the bar and ordered vodka for Mitchell. By the time Matt returned with the drink, Mitchell was finally arriving with his aunt. Holding the drink out to him, Matt said, “Here’s your reward for the successful completion of a long and arduous journey.”

“I can use it,” Mitchell replied. Lifting the glass to his lips, he glanced up...

And he saw Kate.

He froze, staring, his brows drawn together in disbelief that she was here, and that the jean-clad girl with curly red hair who’d kissed him on the balcony in St. Maarten was the glamorous redhead in a sophisticated satin gown strolling casually through the roomful of wealthy socialites, many of whom were drawing her aside to kiss her on the cheek and chat with her.

“That’s Kate Donovan,” Matt provided, following his gaze. “Her father died recently, and I understand she’s going to try to run his restaurant. Have we ever eaten at Donovan’s when you were here?”

“No.”

“We’ll have to do that when you’re here next time.” Drily, he added, “I never had much luck getting reservations with less than two weeks’ notice when her father was alive. Maybe Kate will give us a break.”

Olivia happily made her own contribution to the discussion. “Did you know Kate just got engaged down in the islands?” she asked Meredith and Matt.

“No,” Meredith said, watching Mitchell’s gaze stray briefly to Kate again.

Olivia nodded emphatically and included Mitchell in the question. “Isn’t that a romantic way to get engaged?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said smoothly, curtly.

“The announcement was in the Tribune on Thursday,” she added. Peering forward, she saw Kate leaving the people who’d stopped her to talk, and Olivia called out cheerfully, “Kate, dear, come over here!”

Satisfied when Kate looked up and nodded, Olivia turned to Mitchell and added, “You’ve met the future bridegroom, Mitchell.”

“Have I?”

“Yes. She’s engaged to Evan Bartlett.”

Mitchell stared at the vodka in his glass. “Really, to Evan Bartlett?” he said with a cold, ironic smile.

Meredith’s gaze flew to Matt’s and he gave an imperceptible nod of understanding. This was Mitchell’s “Kate.”

Kate’s knees shook and she wished she had more than a few drops of champagne left in her glass to give her courage, but she managed to look calm and composed as she obeyed Olivia’s summons and prepared to face the man who had used her and left her. “Hello, my dear,” Olivia said. “I hope you and Evan will be very happy,” she added, and then pressed a kiss to Kate’s cheek.

It was the identical ritual Kate had been through fifty times that night—a greeting, followed by best wishes, followed by a salutatory kiss on the cheek. She’d assumed an hour before that this was some sort of prescribed engagement ritual known to everyone in Evan’s social circle. Mentally she braced herself for Mitchell to follow the same ritual as Olivia added with quaint formality, “May I present my nephew, Mitchell—”

Somehow, Kate managed to execute her plan flawlessly: She looked at Mitchell’s shuttered eyes as if she knew an amusing little secret. “We’ve already met,” she replied, leaning slightly forward and turning her cheek in automatic expectation of his salutatory kiss.

“—and we’ve already kissed,” Mitchell replied coolly, ignoring her cheek.

Matt stepped swiftly in front of a startled Olivia, smilingly tucked her hand through his arm, and escorted her toward her table.

Stunned, but utterly determined to appear lighthearted and calm no matter what he said or did, Kate tipped her head to the side and gave him a playful smile. “Haven’t you any good wishes for me?” she teased.

“Let me think of the right one.” He paused a moment; then he lifted his glass in a mocking toast, and said, “To your continued success in climbing up the social ladder, Kate.”

Mitchell’s accusation that she was a social climber caused Kate’s resolve to slip several notches. “Don’t tempt me to throw another drink at you!”

“That would be inexcusably middle class,” he said scathingly, “and you’re trying to move up into the big leagues. In the big leagues, we cheat, we lie, and we fuck each other’s brains out in private, but we do not indulge in public displays of temper.” Mitchell saw the banked emerald fires leaping dangerously into flames in her eyes, and he deliberately threw verbal gasoline at her. “Take some advice and remember the rules the next time you pick up a stranger in a hotel—”

“Shut up!” Kate pleaded furiously.

“—so that you can cheat on that pompous asshole you’re marrying!”

Kate’s temper and anxiety exploded simultaneously, and she silenced him with the only means available—she flung what was left of her champagne at his face. There wasn’t enough liquid to reach her target, but a few drops hit his chest and splotched his shirtfront, and with a mixture of fright, shame, and satisfaction, she braced for an explosive reaction.

“That gesture lacked the spontaneity it had in Anguilla—” he remarked imperturbably as he began casually flicking droplets off his shirt,”—however, this color is a definite improvement.”

Kate gaped at him; then she jerked her head to the left, where a solicitous waiter was already lowering a tray of champagne. Belatedly desperate to appear normal, Kate traded glasses with him and picked up a napkin with shaky fingers; then her attention swerved back to Mitchell as he continued in that same cool, conversational drawl, “Hand me your napkin and paste an apologetic smile on your face—”

Kate automatically handed him the napkin.

He took it and completed his sentence, his gaze on the spots he was dabbing off his shirt. “—or else Bartlett may figure out he’s marrying an amoral bitch with an ugly temper.”

“I’m warning you—” Kate said frantically, but she had nothing to threaten him with, so she glanced around to see if they were being observed and tightened her grip on the stem of her champagne flute, because it seemed like the only solid reality to cling to in a world gone mad.

When she didn’t complete her threat, Mitchell slanted a glance at her and noticed her fingers tightening on her champagne glass. Without taking his eyes off his shirtfront, he said in a silky voice, “If you so much as tilt that glass in my direction, you’ll be sprawled on your ass before the first drops hit the floor.”

Mistaking her stillness for indecision, he lifted his head and looked at her with eyes like shards of ice. “Test me, Kate—” he invited softly. “Go ahead. Test me.”

Kate’s stricken paralysis gave way to a trembling realization that repelled her so much it reduced her voice to a shaking whisper when she said it aloud. “My God... underneath all your phony charm and slick social polish, you’re actually... a monster. ”

Instead of being insulted or angered, he looked at her in baffled amusement, then he chuckled and shook his head. “What were you expecting to find there, sweetheart—a heartbroken, jilted lover?”

Before Kate could react to that, he touched his glass to the edge of hers in a mockery of a toast and said in a bored voice, “Good-bye, Kate.”

He left, and Kate found herself staring straight into Meredith Bancroft’s narrowed eyes. Without a word, Meredith turned on her heel and followed him.