Chapter 1

The place was quiet for a change. She had closed her door and was settled in to do some serious work. The date for the trial against Maurice Daley had finally been set, and she was determined not to miss anything.

She would ensure all the T's were crossed and all the i's dotted. The bastard would not slip through the cracks, and his pricey lawyers would not run hoops around her. They had been piling on motions and delaying the trials for nearly a year. Now, there was enough evidence to take it to trial.

She needed this win. It was personal for her and Rosalyn—the DA and a friend had warned her against it, but it was too late.

"I understand you are going through a lot, honey, but you must put that aside." The older woman gave Ryleigh a sympathetic look that did not bode well with her.

She did not want pity. Six months ago, she had been getting ready for her wedding to a man she thought was in love with her. Her mother told her it was fortunate that it had come out before she married him. And she was trying to see the positive side of it.

She had been portrayed as a naive fool who did not know what was right in front of her. Senator Glen Ritchie had been seeing a lawyer in the DA's office right under her nose.

A male colleague who had pretended to be a friend when all the time he was screwing her fiancé. It was too much to bear. Fortunately, the son of a bitch, had left the DA's office and run off to some obscure town when the scandal hit.

Shaking her head, she was about to open the folder when there was a discreet knock on the door. Stifling a sigh, she called out for the person to come in, her eyes glowing with surprise as Julia Zimmerman came striding in, a smile on her lovely face.

"Julia!"

"My dear, I hope I have not come at an inopportune time. There was no one outside your office-"

"They left for the day. Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Don't trouble yourself." She waved a delicate hand and sat in front of the desk, crossing her spectacular legs. Lifting a hand, she brushed back her thick, shoulder-length black hair self-consciously. "You are working late."

"A big trial is coming up." Ryleigh eyed the woman who had become a friend over the past seven months. She had met Julia at several charitable functions the woman was in charge of, and they had become friends.

Ryleigh admired her character strength and genuine love of the 'underdog.' She was still trying to navigate the society she had been thrown into when her son's construction company had taken off.

Flynn Zimmerman was now a multi-billionaire whose construction company had been featured in several financial magazines. Julia had admitted to Ryleigh that she often felt lost. Her son, whom Ryleigh had met briefly at several of those functions, was not one for entertaining and eschewed most of the tasks required for a man of his standing.

"I have been reading about it." She fiddled with the sharp pleat of her skirt.

"Julia, what's going on? It appears you have something on your mind. Why don't you spit it out?"

The woman smiled at her ruefully. "The second thing I noticed and admired about you was your bluntness."

"The first thing being?" Ryleigh asked with a smile.

"Your exquisite beauty. I cannot for the life of me understand why that son of a bitch chose someone-" Her voice petered off as she stared at the mask that came over the younger woman's face. "My dear, I am so sorry. Flynn always says I tend to put my foot in my mouth."

"It's fine." Taking a deep breath, Ryleigh ventured a smile. "It gets better each day. Now, tell me why you are here?"

"I wanted to invite you to the house for lunch or dinner, but I know how busy you are, and I just wanted an answer as soon as possible."

"Answer to what?" Ryleigh asked her, puzzled.

Julia adjusted her skirt again and took a deep breath. "I know you are hurting-"

"Julia-"

"No." She shook her head. "Please. Let me finish. I am asking you to hear me out until the very end, or I will lose the courage to say what I came here to say. Will you do that for me?"

Ryleigh nodded, wondering what could be so daunting that the woman was gathering her courage to say what was on her mind. "Of course."

"I confided in you what happened with Flynn. He was in a similar situation to yours, and it has hardened him; I don't blame him. He is still not over what that - that greedy, selfish bitch - pardon my French, did to him. And my brother-" She shook her head.

"I don't want to go over it again because it makes me so sick to my stomach that I cannot stand it. Anyway, Flynn is thirty-five years old, and he needs an heir.

Like you, he does not want a relationship; my poor son has been working himself into an early grave so that he can forget. But thankfully, he has agreed with my suggestion." Firming her lips, she stared at Ryleigh. "He wants a surrogate, and we thought of you."

Ryleigh's eyes widened in shock as she returned the woman's gaze. "I am sorry, you want what?"

"I know it's a lot to ask-"

"Julia, it's the mother lode."

"You said recently that you don't care about anything but work. You also said that you wanted a child-"

"Becoming a surrogate will not accomplish that. The child would not be mine." She pointed out, her senses reeling.

"It's something to take your mind off-" She waved a hand.

"Work does that," Ryleigh told her in an unconvincing tone. "Besides, surrogacy requires that you at least have a child before." Pushing away from her chair, she rose, a slender, petite woman whose gentle curves were shown to extreme advantage in the chic lime green pantsuit she was wearing.

Her thick black hair was swept back from her tiny face and secured at the back of her neck. She was barely wearing makeup, her cocoa brown complexion glowing with health.

"Does it?" Julia watched as she walked over to the tidy cabinet and poured herself a tiny amount of brandy before returning it to the desk. She did not sit, however, but sat on the edge of it, dark brown eyes staring at Julia.

"Yes. I enjoy my job. And yes, I admit that I have been feeling restless lately. But Julia, this is asking a lot."

"I know, and I thought about it carefully before deciding to come and ask you." Scooting forward, she stared at the young woman pleadingly. "It has to be discreet, and I cannot think of anyone I would rather ask. You don't have to meet up with Flynn. There is this clinic; the doctors there have benefited from my son's generous donations."

Sipping the brandy, Ryleigh stared at her. "You have thought this through, haven't you?"

Julia nodded. "When Flynn went through that awful period, I was helpless. More than the hurt and pain he felt when that woman betrayed him, he suffered more because the man she betrayed him with was his own family."

A trace of bitterness entered her voice. "Lionel owes his success to my son and repaid him by getting involved with the woman Flynn was in love with.

I want to make it up to him, and yes, I know I was not to blame, but I feel responsible. All I am asking is that you think about it. No one has to know the details. You have been slaughtered in the press, and I would not want that to happen to you again."

She started to say that she did not care but would not be telling the truth. It had hurt her significantly.

Outside, she had appeared serene and uncaring, but in private, she had raged and cried as the humiliation washed over her. She had also beat herself up, wondering if she had buried her head in the sand, that she had refused to see what was in front of her.

Glen had called several times trying to get her to talk to him, but she had refused and eventually told him that if he continued to harass her, she was going to take out a restraining order. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

"I will think about it." She told the anxious woman quietly.

"That's all I am asking." Julia's smile was bright with hope as she rose. "I have taken up enough of your time. Will I see you at the Governor's ball on Saturday?"

"I would not miss it for the world," Ryleigh assured her.

"Good. Don't work too late." With a wave, Julia left the room and closed the door behind her.

Ryleigh did not move but sat on the edge of her desk, the idea of returning to work the farthest thing on her mind. Of course, the idea was ludicrous. She would certainly not entertain it, even though she had told Julia she would consider it.

The horrible scandal, finding out about her soon-to-be husband, had sent her into a spiral that still had her having nightmares. Fortunately, she had insisted he use protection.

It sickened her that while he had been coming over to her place and making love to her, it had been done out of a sense of duty. He had admitted that he was torn and in love with Jerome.

"I never meant to hurt you." he had told her pleadingly. "Do you honestly think I would choose to blow up my political career just like that? I couldn't help myself. I tried to end things with him, and it did not work."

"You would have married me if it did not come out! You wanted a wife to appear to be respectable. You used me, and I hate you for that. I want to kill you for what you did to me."

"I care about you-"

"Care?" She had laughed hollowly. "You said you loved me, you son of a bitch. You declared your love for me. I was cautious, and I told you why. I have been hurt before. I am a career woman who intimidates men.

You said you understood and you loved me for my smart mind. But you were even worse than my former relationships, and I will never forgive you for this. You made a fool of me and did it before the world."

Finishing the brandy, she eased off the desk and put the glass away. She would say no, of course. There was no way she would ever agree to anything this bizarre.

*****

Ryleigh was not the only one in deep thought. Flynn Zimmerman was standing by the window, a half-filled glass of scotch in his hand, staring out at the bright lights of the buildings in front of his corporate office.

He was weary and had to admit it to himself. The office buildings his construction company had been dedicating its time, energy, and resources to were lagging behind schedule, and it was pissing him off. But that was not the entirety of it, not the real reason he was so on edge.

Gracie had called him this afternoon and wanted to talk. The woman who had been at the focal point of his life a year ago had broken his heart and sent him into a tailspin. She had also turned into a cynical recluse who wanted nothing to do with relationships other than the physical.

He had considered not answering the call but had done so out of curiosity. He heard the rumors that his uncle had ended things with her, something he could have told her from the beginning. Lionel Braithwaite was a player. He was forty-five and had an incredible weakness for beautiful women.

She had called begging him to meet with her so that she could 'explain.' Flynn had flatly refused and hung up the phone. But his mother was right; he needed an heir and a surrogate. She had suggested the disgraced prosecutor Ryleigh Bogle.

He had met her briefly at several functions his mother had been part of, but not long enough to form an opinion. He had also read the detailed story of what had occurred between her and the senator.

The press had maligned her and classed her as either naive or stupid. Flynn had no interest in gossip and had felt his distaste and ire rising at the salacious comments that had been printed.

It could be that something good could come from what had happened to the two of them. He considered them kindred spirits; the thought filtered through his mind sardonically.

He was unaware that his fingers were clenched on the glass until they began to throb and become numb. Easing the pressure, he unclenched his hold and tossed back the rest of the drink before putting down the glass.

He was on his way to his desk when his phone rang. "Mother." Settling in the chair, he pressed the speaker button and put the phone on the desk. "You spoke to her."

"She is thinking about it."

"I am surprised she did not laugh you out of her office." Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his long legs out.

"I reminded her that she needs something to take her mind off the disaster she is going through."

"That was low, wasn't it?"

"I had to push the envelope. Darling, I am doing this for you."

"Something I appreciate, but I would rather you not shove the woman's unhappiness in her face. She has been through enough."

"I could say the same about you. Darling, you need this. And I feel responsible-"

"Nonsense!" He retorted. "Did you put Lionel and Gracie in a room together minus their clothing? They made the choice, and it's up to them alone."

"Still-"

"If she does not agree, we will find someone else."

"She is perfect."

"I know you think that, but it might not happen." He glanced at his watch. "I have some calls to make."

"Will you be coming home for dinner?"

"Maybe not. I will see you when I get there." Hanging up the phone, he put it away, determined to put it out of his mind.

*****

"You are worried about something." Margaret Bogle murmured as her daughter approached to give her a glass of wine.

"I have a big case working on; that's worry enough," Ryleigh told her mildly as she sat across from her. Her mother had called and said she was on her way from a dinner date and would stop by. Margaret did not ask; she demanded, and even though she was feeling tired and emotionally drained, she had reluctantly agreed to the meeting.

"Are you certain it's not that poor excuse of a man you were supposed to marry?" She demanded. "Has he called you recently?"

"Yes. And I told him I wanted nothing more to do with him."

"Good for you, darling." Her mother's dark brown eyes searched her face as if seeking the truth. "He wasn't good enough for you anyway," she added.

Ryleigh's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You were the one who said he was a perfect match, an ambitious young man, and we made an excellent team. You also said you were a perfect judge of character, and he would make a perfect husband."

Her mother sniffed and sipped the wine, her brow furrowed. "And I hate that I did not see him for what he is. A duplicitous nobody.

He wanted to portray something he wasn't. I do not quarrel with the gay community. If you are so sexually inclined, then that's your business. I have a difficult time accepting someone who lives a double life. Be your damn self and stop drawing someone else in your drama."

"We are both in agreement when it comes to that mindset. But I do not want to talk to you about it. How was your date?"

Margaret sighed. "I know you don't like Carlos because he is Spanish-"

"I don't like him because he is after your money. Not to mention the fact that he is fifteen years your junior." She pointed out dryly. "He is after your money and reminds me of an oily salesman."

"I suspect you might be right." There was a dejected look on Margaret's face. "He asked me for another loan."

"What is it this time?"

"A business venture he is interested in."

"Another one. The shipping company never panned out. Were you able to get back your money?"

The sheepish look on her mother's face gave her the answer. Ryleigh had tried to talk her mother out of providing the men in her life with financial assistance without much headway.

Margaret Bogle had a very soft heart and tended to fall for all sorts of lies. But who was she to think like that? She wondered grimly. A man had fooled her, she thought she knew, one who was living a double life, right under her nose.

"I had the strength to say no tonight, hence the abrupt ending to the date." Margaret shook her head. "He left in the middle of dinner and stuck me with the bill. So that's the end of that." A sigh escaped her.

"Your father set too high a standard for other men to follow. He was such a wonderful husband and father that I expect the men I go out with to portray the same excellent qualities." Her expression became sober.

"I want that kind of happiness for you, darling. Don't allow the terrible things that happened in your life to turn you away from finding love."

Ryleigh shook her head firmly. "The last thing on my mind is romance. It's going to take a minute."

"Oh, honey! For what that man did to you, he deserves to be hanged."

"He has taught me a precious lesson. One I am not likely to forget."

*****

Even though she had told her mother that she was tired and was going to bed, Ryleigh could not sleep. There were too many things going on inside her mind. The conversation had brought back awful memories that had never been very far from her mind in the first place.

Drawing her knees, she propped her chin on her folded arms and stared into the darkness. She had not bothered turning on the lights but had simply changed out of her lounge pants and sweater and donned a nightgown. Her usual ritual of brushing her hair and wrapping the thick strands around her head was ignored for tonight.

She had loved him, she thought with an aching pang inside her heart. They had spent hours discussing what was wrong with the legal system and how it could be fixed.

"My ultimate goal is to end up in the White House." He had sent her a mischievous look from his light blue eyes. "I hope you are prepared to become First Lady, darling because I think you would make an excellent one. With your candid views and your zeal for the law, we will make a perfect team."

"I don't see myself as a politician's wife." She protested. "I hate politics."

"And yet you are involved with one." He teased. "Ry, I am in love with you," he added soberly. "You are refreshingly honest, and that's not a quality I encounter in my work. You are also wonderful with people. It's not just your beauty; this light inside you shines out and makes us lesser mortals want to do better."

Blinking away the tears, she angrily pushed the memories away. Senator Glen Ritchie was dead to her and will remain that way.