This was it. It was finally happening. After three years of fixing the lives of D—list celebrities, her boss was finally giving her a promotion…she hoped. Only by sheer will did Delilah Donovan refrain from doing a little celebratory dance. Shaking her ass in her boss's office would be a quick way to lose the promotion she prayed was about to come.

No more time spent chasing after would—be starlets, helping them avoid the press and keeping them from puking live on TMZ. No more dragging drunken, has been, A—listers out of dingy bars and strip clubs. And finally no more being called D—list Delilah by the gossip blogs. Dragging her attention back to her boss, Jacob Park, she willed him to get to the point already. Her Manolos were pinching her feet.

"Delilah, last night was inspired. You certainly were fast on your feet. Justin Moore called personally to say thank you."

Confused, she could only blink. The little punk, Justin, hadn't seemed particularly grateful last night when she'd dragged him out of the strip club by the ear. The moron had made the mistake of putting his hand on her ass too. A mistake he would not be repeating. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from smirking as she remembered her smiling threat of dismemberment. "Oh. Well. Glad we got lucky."

Jacob scratched his jaw. "You've been at Park and Associates for three years now. And so far you've lived up to my expectations."

Lived up to his expectations? Hell, she was one of his best fixers, and he knew it. But because movie studios often requested her, she'd been relegated to celebrities for most of her employment. But she'd been looking for a chance to prove herself with larger, corporate clients for years and actually dig into something meaty. It was in her nature to want to prove herself. And in a family with eleven siblings, jockeying for position was nothing new. Neither was finding new ways to stand out in the crowd. And she'd managed it. Or at least she hoped she had. Because, as her father had always taught her, failing was not an option. "Thank you, Jake."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm considering you for a junior partner position."

Considering? Just how many hoops did he want her to jump through? Delilah swallowed hard as she stared at her boss. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Junior partner. I know you're often relegated to D—list hell, but honestly, that's where you shine. You take our little lumps of coal and make them cubic zirconias, if not diamonds. But I want to give you something bigger to bite into."

As promotions went, this was not going quite as she'd expected. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes. I'm going to give you a trial client. If you can prove yourself, then welcome to the big leagues." He paused. "And once you're junior partner, you can consider your law school debt wiped."

Delilah's jaw went slack. As part of her employment contract, Park and Associates had paid for her final year of grad school. They'd added the stipulation that she had to stay employed at the company for a term of four years, each year of employment wiping out a semester of debt. She'd already been there three. If she got herself fired or quit before then, the remaining balance would be due. She was not a fan of having that money hanging over her head. She could deal with a trial client. She'd just look at it like an assignment. She liked assignments. "I can do it." There was nothing she loved more than a challenge. A problem to be solved.

Jake studied her, then his gaze slid to the gossip blog, Celeb Juicy, that was pulled up on his monitor. "Are you sure you don't want to keep doing these? You have a knack for them. I mean, it was brilliant. The Soho Grand thing was inspired. And we got one over on Celeb Juicy. They had Justin dead to rights about being in that club. But you putting up the photos of him and Serna leaving the movies was genius."

Delilah allowed herself only a small swell of pride. Her boss was known for blowing smoke. "I'm not a genius. It was basic problem solving. I just took Justin and Serena from a volatile situation that would have jeopardized his career and made it look like they'd spent the night at a movie. We got to the Soho Grand just as the movie was letting out, and thanks to an advanced tip, the paps were waiting." What it had taken was the stars aligning. Justin hadn't wanted to leave, then Serena had shown up pissed because he was all over some stripper. Worse thing was, the moron didn't seem to get that it was in his contract to stay away from crazy shit until filming was over. He'd signed on to play Jesus Christ, for the love of God. He couldn't be seen at a strip club.

Jake ignored her. "How did you manage to make Serena look so pretty and normal? Usually she looks like she's raided a Kardashian's make—up closet."

Delilah sighed. "I handed her a plain T—shirt and made her scrub her face. Willow's crazy driving had us there on time, but it was close."

Jake laughed. "I can almost see the look on the face of the Celeb Juicy blogger. I would pay money to see that."

She tried to look impassive, like she didn't live to put the gossip bloggers in their place. Now she had her chance for escape.

Jacob pulled a file off his desk. "You will ride shotgun with me on this. You handle it right, and junior partner is yours. I warn you, they are a very different clientele from what you normally handle. We'll need to use kid gloves. I expect you to work harder than you've ever worked before. I say jump—you develop wings and fly like Jordan. You understand?"

A squeal bubbled in her throat, but she clamped it down. She could celebrate later. "I'm ready."

"I'm pulling you off of all your other clients except Michael Ross. You'll be done with him in a couple of months anyway." He slid a folder toward her. "Chase Manning from Synth Games is the client."

She frowned. "But why does he need us? Sure he's a playboy, and a bit brash, but the media loves him."

"He'll tell you himself. He'll be here in thirty minutes. It should be pretty straight forward."

What? She had to get started right now? Before her third cup of coffee? Whatever. Just as long as it wasn't another celebutant. "I'll get with Willow and pull what I can on him."

"This is your chance to shine, Delilah. He's a personal friend of mine. Don't screw it up."

Once she got back to her desk, she started repeating her personal mantra. You are strong, You are confident, You are…Oh hell, she needed another Kit Kat. Delilah rummaged through her desk drawer in search of the chocolaty treat as she waited for her investigator, Willow Green, to bring her a brief rundown of their new client.

Willow had once worked as a photographer for one of the largest gossip magazines in the market. She was an expert at finding things that no one wanted found, and she had a knack for evasive driving, so when a client was in trouble and needed a quick getaway, Willow was the one to call.

Jake liked everyone working in two—man teams. An associate and an investigator. She'd really lucked out with Willow. Her friend was the best. Delilah's first day on the job, Willow had stalked into her office in her black boots and flaming red hair and said "Shoot, Shag, or Marry, Benedict Cumberbatch?"

Delilah replied with, "Shag. Who wouldn't want to shag Sherlock?" Willow had apparently given her style points for knowing what she meant by shag, and knowing who Benedict Cumberbatch was. Then she'd immediately put in a request to work with Delilah, and they'd been together ever since.

When Delilah finally spotted her, Willow was marching toward the office bay with her usual confident, I—don't—give—a—damn—stride, sporting the latest in leather chic, her red hair hanging straight and blowing behind her like she had her own personal wind machine.

Willow strutted into Delilah's office without knocking. "Let me guess, it's pep talk time?"

Delilah narrowed her eyes. "I will have you know each pep talk before a new client gets things off on the right foot. Now if I could just find that damn—"

Willow pulled a Kit Kat out of her jacket pocket. The red wrapping acted like a beacon of hope. "Ever since the Everheart job, I learned to carry these around, just in case."

Delilah shivered at the thought of Jackson Everheart. One of his ex—wives had gone to the press saying he was bad in bed. He'd wanted to leak a sex tape disproving that, and had been serious about Delilah procuring young women for him. When she'd informed him that she wasn't a madam, he'd told her that she would do in a pinch. Chocolate had been her only salvation during the ordeal.

She shook off the unpleasant memory and took the offered Kit—Kat gladly. "Thanks, I needed this. It sort of solidifies the mojo."

Willow shrugged. "Hey, I've learned to respect the process. I've seen what you can do and the kinds of things you can talk people out of or into. Whatever you need to make that happen, I'm willing to provide. Your little superpower keeps me in Prada and Armani, so I can sacrifice a little chocolate."

"Thanks," she mumbled around her mouthful. "Right now, this is better than sex."

Willow groaned. "Honey, I don't think you're doing it right."

Delilah shoved the second chocolaty wafer into her mouth then put her hand out for the file. "Babes, I won't even tell you how long it's been." The last relationship she'd even attempted had ended poorly. Turned out, he'd been on the down low and preferred men. Color her confused as he'd been the one to actively pursue her. The real kicker was, he thought he could continue sleeping with her at the same time. She hadn't bothered even trying to date after that. "Apparently I'm now dating my job."

Willow stared at her agog. "You realize we have to fix that, right? If you survive this client, I'm taking you out. Work can not be your end—all be—all."

"One step at a time, right? Besides, the Manning case is a very basic image consultancy. They probably want to change Chase's image to one that's more stable. Less Man—Child. I can do that."

Willow rolled her eyes. "We are not done discussing how you need to dust off your lady parts, but since we're here to work, this is the file on Manning." She handed it to Delilah. "There's not much you don't already know. The bulk of his fortune comes from the Manning legacy. Synth Games is the bulk of it. He and his sister Chloe own a sizable chunk. He's worth half a billion."

Dee whistled low. "Wow. I wonder why he needs an image consultancy." Her mind tried to work through every scenario where this could all go wrong.

Her phone buzzed, and her assistant's voice rang clear. "Dee, Chase Manning and his associates are here."

"Any idea on your approach?" Willow asked.

"Well, let me find out why he's here first, but I have a few ideas. Although, I'm supposed to follow Jake's lead."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Can I say that I'm not thrilled about Jake staring over our shoulder on this one?"

"If we don't want to be chasing after Love Reality rejects for the rest of our natural lives, then this is the way. The work is the same. We just have to prove ourselves."

Willow pursed her lips. "We've been proving ourselves. I'm starting to notice you never sleep."

Delilah grinned. "I'll sleep when I'm running this place and have minions."

"Do I get minions too?"

"Of course. Minions for all."

Willow grinned. "Jake said he wanted just the two of you in this meeting to start, so in the meantime, I'm going to see what else I can dig up on Chase Manning."

"Thanks, you're the best." Delilah headed for the conference room. Through the opaque glass, she could make out several figures in the room. No doubt, Chase had brought a team of lawyers with him. Before she opened the door, something caused the hair on the nape of her neck to stand at attention. Surreptitiously, she glanced around as if the boogeyman were about to jump out and say hello.

There was no one there.

"Get it together, Dee."

As she stepped into the room, she immediately schooled her expression. Ugly purplish bruising and swelling marred the normally stunning tableau of Chase Manning's face. She'd seen enough photos of him to know what he really looked like.

Her boss's voice was smooth and relaxed as he introduced her to the parties in the room.

Chase stood smoothly, as did the other man with him. His companion had longish, dark brown hair paired with piercing green eyes. Like Chase, she recognized him from magazine covers. Lachlan Murphy.

"Mr. Manning, it's a pleasure to meet you." She shook hands with Chase then Lachlan. "Mr. Murphy. It's a pleasure."

Both Lachlan and Chase gave her the once over. She met their gazes directly like a dare. She was used to men not taking her seriously. Jake started the meeting, and Delilah tamped down the compulsion to take over. This was normally her job.

"Now, Chase, why don't you tell us what you're looking for?" Jake's voice was smooth and practiced.

"I want a full CEO makeover. I need you to help convince the board and the public that Synth Games's CEO is viable, stable, and in charge."

Delilah frowned and asked, "Pardon my confusion, but aren't you the CEO? From what I've read and studied, you've kept the company's earnings way above the projections each quarter. Why would there suddenly be a crisis of confidence?" She held her breath and waited for Jake's response, but he nodded and leaned back, waiting for an answer.

Chase sighed, and his eyes went grave. "I'm a compulsive gambler. I'll be heading to an upstate rehab facility tomorrow. My interim CEO has a month to convince the board that he has the chops, or I'll lose my company to one of the vultures on the board."

What? Delilah clamped her jaw tight to keep it from hanging open. He was worth half a billion dollars. She slid a gaze to Jake, but he nodded at her, encouragingly. When she finally was in control again, she asked. "My first question is, how long will you be in rehab?"

Chase met her gaze directly. "Sixty days inpatient, then a thirty day outpatient."

"What prompted the need to check yourself in?"

He hesitated, but she prompted. "If we're to protect your interests, I need to know what I'll have to deal with. What prompted the rehab?"

He sighed, and for the first time, she realized how weary he looked, as if he'd been up all night. "Last night, some associates of a bookie thought it would be nice to tune me up." His glance shifted to the man at the window.

"Why?"

"I'd been a week late with a payment of half a million dollars."

Delilah blinked. Why would he owe anyone that kind of money? She cleared her throat. "And this bookie, who is he? Is this an establishment that will come out and attempt to tarnish your reputation?"

A frown marred his handsome face. "A back room game in the city. Invite only. Hole in the wall place. He won't be going public with anything. It's not in his interest to do so."

Jake piped in. "They've been paid in full and will not come after you in the future?"

Chase shook his head. "No. I'm covered. But I understand your job will be difficult. Synth is already drawing a lot of media coverage because of the release of the new game."

Delilah sat forward. "It's timed with the movie release, right?"

Chase nodded. "Yes. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal, but the game and movie combined are projected to do a hundred million in the first week of release."

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "We're on it, Chase. We know how important this is."

Delilah quickly made a note for Willow before looking back up. "We'll do what we can to keep your recent run—in out of the news. We'll populate some misdirecting stories if anything should arise. In the meantime, we'll also start to draft the releases about your temporary step down. They'll go to the majors. We should also plan for your return and the interviews following. We'll want the important morning shows and outlets, like Anderson Cooper and Piers Morgan. I have a contact at Oprah's Network too. We'll see if we can get you on one of her shows."

Quickly and efficiently she went through the plan for keeping his recent run—in with meaty fists out of the media. She also ran through the plan of communication to the public and shareholders. Of course, every part of the plan boiled down to the final most important piece. "And what do you plan to do about your company while you're away?" She glanced briefly to Lachlan.

Chase leaned forward. "We've called an emergency board meeting for tonight. I can suggest a replacement, and the board will choose. With the voting members present, it should be no problem making sure it goes my way. The crux is, in another thirty days, the board can keep or replace." He glanced around. "It is in my best interest if the CEO I pick stays."

Delilah studied the man seated next to Chase. Lachlan Murphy was great CEO material. Honestly, this job would be a walk in the park with him. There wouldn't be much to do. "I assume you'll be stepping in as Mr. Channing's CEO, Mr. Murphy?"

Lachlan's eyes widened. "Me? Uh, no. And call me Lach. There would be a conflict of interest with my other business interests. I will only be acting in an advisory capacity, that's all."

Jake frowned. "I don't understand. Who will be your replacement?"

Chase gave them a sheepish smile. "I'd hoped he'd be here by now. He was taking care of a quality assurance problem with one of our games. He'll be here shortly."

Delilah chewed her bottom lip. What were the chances that whoever Chase had picked would be as easy to mold and work with as Lachlan Murphy? She slid a glance at Jake. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

She licked her lips. "Okay, then. What will we need to know? Where will we need to focus my attention? What's his background, what are his strengths?"

Chase and Lach exchanged a quick glance. Lachlan spoke first. "He's loyal."

Chase continued. "He actually designed a good portion of our games, so he's familiar with the technology."

Delilah read between the lines. Games programmer usually meant awkward nerd type. She'd have to roll up her sleeves on this one. "What else?"

"He has an MBA, he's smart, and he'll keep my company afloat."

Delilah studied Chase carefully, unsure how to get the honest truth out of both men. They were giving her the guy's resume not the overall feel of him. She sat back and asked, "What are we missing here? What is it you don't want to tell us? We need to know what deep dark skeletons we're going to have to incinerate so the public never finds them. Or at least doesn't find them until you're back in your rightful seat and your profit margins are up."

Chase squirmed in his seat. Lachlan wouldn't meet her gaze and suddenly seemed to find his phone very interesting. Abruptly, Chase sat straighter. "Looks like he's here. You can ask him yourself."

Through the opaque glass of the conference room, a tall figure loomed at the door. Broad shoulders. There was an air of confidence about him. She could work with that, but even as she stood, the fine hairs on her arms stood at attention.

When the door swung open, Delilah catalogued him in an instant. She caught sight of his Nike Air Force Ones first, then dark jeans. His hands were big. Like they were made for playing basketball, not coding video games. But they were unadorned with jewelry. His leather jacket was expensive, well made and well worn. He didn't wear it for fashion, rather for necessity. Under it, he wore a black T—shirt that stretched over a well—defined chest.

Oh hell yes. She could certainly work with this.

Her long dormant libido woke up and stretched languorously. It wasn't until she managed to drag her eyes from his defined pectorals that her brain stuttered. A shadow of blond hair dusted his chin and strong jaw. Longish blond hair curled at his nape. Lips shaped like a bow with a fuller lower lip. High cheekbones. A slightly crooked nose that had been broken at least once. Deep—set, aquamarine eyes framed by thick, sooty lashes.

A face she knew well. One that had haunted her for seven years.

All air whooshed from her lungs as if she'd been hit in the solar plexus.

Chase's voice sounded like a distant echo. "Jake, Miss Donovan. Allow me to introduce you to Nathanial Williams. He'll be stepping in as CEO while I'm gone."

Oh. Hell. No. Her heart hammered, and her lungs refused to operate properly. This is not happening to me. Not him. Anyone but him.

Her gaze collided with the man she'd thought she once loved, and her stomach pitched. The last time she'd seen Nate was her sixteenth birthday. The night he'd betrayed her family and broken her heart.