–   P R O L O G U E  –

Kenji Yamada had never seen anything so magnificent as Catherine Swanson’s thighs. He sat beside her in the back of his Rolls Royce Seraph with the twelve-cylinder motor at idle and the CD player whispering Sinatra love songs.

Her scent filled his nostrils with a heavy-sweet floral fragrance that included a hint of musk. A black linen sheath dress with a high collar left her shoulders bare, the flawless perfection of her skin like emperor’s silk.

Her eyes made him feel wanted and close while her fingers caressed the back of his head, stirring long forgotten memories. Years ago at prep school the most beautiful girl in his class lived in an ivy-covered brick house and wore designer tennis shoes from a store in New York. He had taken her in the rain under a maple tree. Shoulders like that.

Over Catherine’s left breast a diamond pin emblazoned the letter C. Her fine chestnut hair was damp velvet in the moonlight.

For the joy of knowing her, of touching her, Kenji was risking both his marriage and his professional perch atop the Amada Corporation. This was not the worst of his sins—it was just the most personal. Still he felt no hesitation, not the slightest pause, as he contemplated his headlong fall into the unknown.

He nuzzled her neck while his attention focused on the thigh and black garter that seemed to be sliding free of the dark linen fabric. He ran his fingers over Catherine’s arms, the muscle, and shape, how they flowed down to slender long fingers.

Tentatively he kissed Catherine’s mouth. When he felt her tongue in reply, she turned in the seat and he kissed more confidently. Just visible on her inner thigh, was a tattoo—a tiny rose with the initials TS on either side of the stem. Above the old fashioned silk stockings, her legs were baby smooth.

His experienced fingers felt for the zipper on the back of her dress, and, for the first time, he hesitated.

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