Part of him had always known she’d reject him. He must have asked her out a hundred times, but the answer was always the same. The first time they’d probably been eight or nine and it had quickly become a running joke between them. He’d ask her out in the most ridiculous, cheesy ways possible. And she’d always say no.
Even he wasn’t exactly sure when it stopped being funny and started being real. But Hope hadn’t noticed the difference and he’d been too much of a coward to make her see.
Even back then everyone thought he was so strong. Her rejection had been the one thing that scared the hell out of him.
She’d been so angry with him that night. Upset that he’d enlisted. Angry that he’d done it without talking to her about the decision. And when he’d wrapped his arms around her and told her he loved her she’d pushed him away.
Exactly what he’d always feared. But he’d survived her rejection and a heck of a lot worse since then. His thumbs throbbed dully as if he needed the reminder.
Why was he reliving the memory? Probably because seeing her last night, being in this place especially around Valentine’s Day, brought everything rushing back.
It shouldn’t bother him that she’d followed him to that fight with ulterior motives, but it did. “She came looking for a story, just like all the other buzzards circling around this place.” He despised the bitterness in his own voice.
“Not like all the others. Hope is a friend, Gage. The two of you used to be real close. If you’re going to talk to anyone, it should be her. Hope is family.”
He snorted. “She’s far from that.”
Lexi frowned at him, narrowing her eyes. “I have no idea what happened between you two, and I don’t wanna know, but nothing she could have done makes leaving her in a place like that okay.”
With a sigh, Lexi switched the subject. “Since you’re so bored, I’m sure Mama would be happy to find you a job. Cupid’s Couples starts tonight with the matching. Did you put your name in?”
“Hell, no.” The last thing Gage needed was a week full of candy hearts, wilted flowers and awkward dinners with a stranger. And even if he had grown up with most of the single women in the town, after twelve years away they were all strangers. “I just escaped one hell, why would I sign up for another?”
“Didn’t you hear? They’re donating all the money raised to the Wounded Warrior Project in honor of your friend Tanner.”
“Well, fu—” Lexi glared at him “—dge.” He’d planned to ignore the whole damn thing. Stay at home and refuse to attend. But now, there was no way he could blow the events off. Showing up was the least he could do for Tanner.
Before he could ask Lexi for suggestions on how he might help, the front bell rang again. And again. And again. Feet shuffled against the polished floor. Several voices rang out, “Hello!” and someone slammed a palm down onto the display case, rattling the glass countertop.
“What the hell,” Lexi grumbled.
In full-on big-brother mode, Gage followed quickly behind her, but didn’t get farther than the curtain before Lexi slapped her hands onto his chest and pushed him backward.
“Get back. Get back,” she ordered, her eyes full of fire.
Gage caught enough of a glimpse to recognize the horde of reporters who now filled Lexi’s store. Jostling for position at the counter, they held high-powered cameras with special lenses, pens poised above notepads and video cameras with blinking red lights.
Damn, he hated the media.
He really wished one of the other guys would get released from the hospital. Not just because he needed them to be okay, but because then maybe some of these vultures would start circling
their
lives for the details about the capture and rescue.
He let his sister shove him deeper into the kitchen. “You can slip out the back door. Take the alley,” she suggested.
Considering the alternative, that was exactly what he was going to do. “Make ’em buy something. The most expensive item you have in the store. And then tell them I’m staying at the old Jones place out by the lake. It’s still empty, right?”
“Yeah.”
The place had been abandoned for as long as he could remember, but it was on the far side of the lake on the outskirts of town, which meant he’d have at least an hour of peace before they realized Lexi’s lie and headed back.
Unfortunately, he had to walk straight across Main in order to get back to his parents’ house. Which meant he needed to find some place to lay low until the plague was gone.
Gage glanced up and down the alley. The bridal salon was two doors down from Sugar & Spice, but the thought of going in there made those cameras look almost appealing. Scent of Woman might have been an option, Lanie’s mother had always loved him, but he really didn’t want to smell like a flower the rest of the day. Which also left Petals, the florist, out.
His eyes skipped across the back door to the
Sweetheart Sentinel,
and then jerked back again. The newspaper. Probably the last place the journalists he was trying to escape would look for him. So the first place he should hide. It had been a long time since he’d seen Mr. Rawlings, although he wasn’t sure the man had ever liked him much.
But Gage was willing to take his chances.
3
D
ARTING
DOWN
THE
NARROW
passage, Gage grasped the back door and pulled it open. He half expected to walk into chaos—probably thanks to false Hollywood portrayals. Instead, everything was quiet. Oh, there were people working. He could hear the hushed rumble of voices, the clack of keyboards and the faint buzzing of a telephone.
He rounded the corner to a cubicle and stuck his head inside. Erica McNeil looked up from her computer screen, a startled expression on her face. “Gage Harper. What are you doing here?” Her shy gaze darted away from his. “How’d you get in?”
“Back door.” He grinned and leaned against the hard metal edge of her cubicle wall.
“What happened to your face? Is that from...” Her voice trailed off, her eyes widened and a faint blush crept up her pale cheeks. Everyone either wanted all the details of his capture and torture or they wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. Apparently Erica was in the latter group.
“Nope. I ran into a door.”
Her already-large eyes rounded more with surprise...and then narrowed to slits. Erica was about six or seven years older than he was and had babysat Lexi a few times. She always had been gullible.
“Stop harassing Erica.”
Hope’s voice sounded behind him. Gage smiled, although Erica was the only one to see it because before he spun around, he’d wiped it clean.
Adopting an air of innocence, he turned slowly to look at her. Her hands were balled into fists and lodged firmly on her hips. Her toe tapped against the worn carpeted floor, drawing his gaze down the long length of her legs. Up and down, up and down, the red sole of her black high heels flashed like a beacon.
He always had been a leg man and he had to admit Hope had a nice pair. Was it his imagination or were they even more toned than before?
Gage forced his gaze back up her body, taking in the tight skirt, silk blouse and matching suit jacket she wore. She looked like a high-powered businesswoman. Someone ready to take on the world and stomp it beneath the spiked heel of her shoe.
She was seriously overdressed for the
Sweetheart Sentinel.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing Hank, her father, wearing anything that resembled a business suit. Not even a blazer when he’d been honored by the town council as citizen of the year. He wondered if anyone had told Hope that. Not that he cared.
“I wasn’t harassing anyone, was I, Erica?” he asked, shooting her a disarming smile over his shoulder.
Erica’s gaze swung between them. Without answering his question, she swiveled in her chair, giving them her back and returning her focus to her computer screen.
Hope eyed him. He noticed how her gaze lingered on the damage to his face. But unlike everyone else, she knew exactly how he’d gotten the injuries. And unlike everyone else, she didn’t remark on them, but turned and walked away.
He followed. How could he not? The view of her tight rear was so tempting. The slit at the back of her skirt swished back and forth as she walked. It brushed against the inside of her thighs. Gage couldn’t tear his eyes away. Desire, hot and hard, punched through him. He almost stumbled.
After a quick, calming breath, Gage followed her inside the office just in time to watch her sink gracefully into the chair behind a large desk. The blotter was perfectly clean. Two folders, neatly labeled, sat to her left. A matching tape dispenser, stapler and hole punch were lined up beside them along with a cup of pens and a basket of paper clips. Just like her flawless suit, there was no clutter.
He wanted to loosen her up. To unravel that elegant twist in her hair and tousle it with his fingers. To pop open a few of those tightly closed buttons so that he could see the lace camisole beneath. To scrape everything off her desk and lay her out beneath him...
Oh, crap, where had that come from?
“Are you here to give me that interview, Gage?”
Clearing his throat and tossing the unwanted fantasy away, he dropped into the chair across from her. “Hell, no.” He sprawled, his long legs reaching beneath the desk to brush against the toe of her shoe.
She pulled it back. Gage’s lips twitched.
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m hiding.”
“From whom?”
“Does it matter?”
She studied him for several seconds before slowly saying, “Yes, I think it does.”
Gage shrugged. “Some reporters tracked me into Lexi’s store. I have no idea how they found me.” He placed his elbows on the opposite edge and leaned halfway across her desk. She started to back away, but stopped herself. He stared straight at her, hard and deadly, just for the fun of watching her eyes flash indignantly. “Any idea how they could have known I was in there?”
Hope’s mouth tightened with annoyance. “You’re kidding, right? Your photograph was splashed on every news outlet for weeks. They’ve been camped out here since before you were rescued. Unless you walk around town with a paper bag over your head, you’re doomed.”
“Don’t you think the paper bag would defeat the purpose? I mean, isn’t that a little conspicuous?”
Hope’s mouth twisted into a pitiful approximation of a smile. “Funny. And as much as I’d love to help you—” her tone of voice called that statement all kinds of liar “—we have a business to run, Gage. So unless you’re here for official reasons—”
“I’m not giving you an interview.”
“—you need to leave.”
She stood up from her desk, tugged at the hem of her skirt to make sure it was straight and walked around to stand expectantly beside him. Gage didn’t move. Instead, he turned his head and got a great view of the curve of her hip and ass. Why would he want to leave? He was perfectly happy right here.
Slowly, his eyes tracked upward. His head dropped back so he could see the tight expression on her face. Old habits died hard and he wanted to do something completely inappropriate to wipe it away. “You’re going to throw me out? In my time of need?”
“You forget, I know you’re about as helpless as a rattlesnake. And if I needed a reminder, you gave it to me last night. Out.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder toward her open doorway.
Reluctantly, Gage unfolded from the chair. But instead of going around the opposite side, he crowded into Hope’s personal space. She didn’t back down. He’d always admired her tenacity. It probably made her a damn good journalist. Well, it would have if she’d had the chance to sink her teeth into any stories.
Dread and anticipation coiled through him as he realized
he
was the story she’d decided to sink into. A vision of her pert mouth stretched wide as her sharp teeth dug into his naked hip almost made him groan.
He wanted to grab her, to pull her into him and kiss her until he forgot everything but the feel of her mouth. It wasn’t a new desire, although he hadn’t felt it in a very long time. How inconvenient for it to suddenly resurface.
She must have realized something had changed because she stepped back. Her spine pressed into the wall. Her palms flattened against the uninteresting tan surface. The drab background only served to emphasize the stark contrast of her pink-tinged skin and watchful, wary green-gold eyes.
She drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising against the tight confines of her jacket. She held it for several seconds before blowing it slowly out again. That kind of control had always fascinated Gage. Hope was so...contained.
She didn’t need anything or anyone. When they were younger he’d thought of himself as the one exception to that rule. It had always made him feel special, especially when he couldn’t seem to do anything else right. But, as it turned out, she’d been able to cut him out of her life with little fuss.
He closed the space between them. Her body stiffened.
He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her scent surrounded him, something sweet with a hint of spice running underneath. Perfectly Hope. He could feel the heat of her. It warmed him in a way that even the hottest day in the middle of the desert hadn’t been able to do.
Her lips parted. He didn’t think it was intentional, but the motion still drew his attention.
Instead of doing what he wanted, Gage reached up and poked her straight in the ribs.
She wheezed, a sound halfway between laughter and surprise, and bent sideways away from his finger.
“What are you doing?” She slapped his hand away and he let her.
“Rumpling that perfect exterior.”
“What perfect exterior?”
“The one you’ve expertly crafted to make people forget that you spent years loudly telling everyone just how far you were planning to get from this place. Funny, looks like you didn’t get quite as far as you’d hoped.”
The flash of hurt was quick and immediately covered with narrow-eyed pique. But he saw it. And regretted that he’d caused it.
But he shouldn’t. The fact that anything he said had the power to wound her was surprising. Although it didn’t exactly change anything.
He moved in closer. He was tall, and as Hope was wearing heels, they were almost perfectly matched. Gage brought his mouth to the tender shell of her ear and whispered, “I know exactly who you are, Hope. Your most intimate secrets. The sound of your laughter. The smell of your favorite shampoo. How you nibbled the cap on your pen during tests. Did you know I spent years fantasizing about getting my hands on you?”
He pulled back, studying her for some reaction, although he wasn’t exactly certain what. Maybe surprise. Or distaste. Or possibly even interest. He didn’t find any of those things, just an alert cautiousness.
She wanted something from him. It should have felt better to be able to deny her. Just like she’d denied him so many years ago. When he’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her that all those times he’d asked her out hadn’t been a joke. That he meant it every single time and had wanted her for years. And each time she’d uttered the word
no
it had wounded him just a little.
He was so close that he could see the golden flecks in her eyes. The leery burn of them. He stared straight into her and said, “Disappointment’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
* * *
S
HE
FUMED
,
SILENTLY
,
UNABLE
to move away from the wall even after he’d gone. Her body shook with a combination of anger and relief.
“Was that Gage Harper I just saw leaving?”
Her dad walked into her office and plopped down into the chair Gage had just occupied.
His silver-brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d either just rolled out of bed or spent the past several hours tugging at the thinning strands. Hope wanted to think that it was the latter, but she was afraid it was the former.
Her dad had been spending less and less time at the paper in the past few years, making her life even crazier than it already was. They were a small operation, so on a good day she was CEO, bookkeeper, referee, marketing, content and traffic cop all rolled into one. Usually at once. It was amazing she didn’t get brained by one of the balls she constantly juggled.
Which didn’t sit well with her. She’d tried to talk to him about his lack of interest but he just changed the subject or ignored her.
She’d come home right after college, almost seven years ago, to take care of him and the paper while he recovered from cancer treatment. The surgery and the months of chemo and recovery as he regained his strength had been difficult on them both, but he had been in remission for years now.
The problem was that while his energy had returned, his interest in the
Sentinel
hadn’t. She’d gently suggested he look for a buyer. But he’d gotten angry, telling her not to be silly, that it had been in their family for over a hundred years.
What was she supposed to do? Let her family’s heritage crumble around her from neglect? She was stuck. The only way out involved getting a job that removed her from the equation completely and forced his hand.
“Yes,” she growled, glaring at her dad.
He did a double take, finally looking at her for the first time since he’d walked into the room.
“Well, there’s no reason to be snippy. I just asked a simple question.”
He was right. The person she was really angry with had already fled the scene. Taking out her frustrations on her dad wouldn’t help. Especially since they already had enough unresolved issues.
Taking a deep breath, Hope offered, “I’m sorry,” and tried to put a smile with the words.
She must have been at least partially successful, because her dad smiled back. “No problem, pumpkin. I know you’re under a lot of stress.”
Okay, now the anger was pointed squarely at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Do you know what would lessen that stress?”
“A night out?”
“No!” Hope stalked across her small office and propped her hip against the desk so she could stare straight into her dad’s eyes and pin him to the spot. “You being here! That’s what would help my stress level. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to run the paper?”
His eyebrows dropped over narrowed eyes. “I don’t remember asking you to.”
“You didn’t have to. Who do you think the staff come to when they have a problem or question and you’re not here?”
“So don’t answer them, Hope. They know how to reach me when I’m off site. Don’t pin your own relentless need to pick up every burden you walk past on me. Tell them no.”
Hope growled low in her throat.
“Anyway, that’s not why I came in here.”
Needing some space, Hope slipped around her desk and sank into the waiting comfort of her chair. She wasn’t up for having this argument—again—today. Not after her encounter with Gage. Nothing she said ever changed the outcome, anyway.
“I was cleaning out the safety deposit box and found this.” Her dad held out a burgundy velvet box. “Thought you might want to wear it to the cocktail party tomorrow night.”
Slowly, Hope reached across the desk for it. Before she’d even touched it she knew the nap on the box would be soft and worn. It had been...years since she’d seen it.