Kitabı oku: «The Risk-Taker», sayfa 3

SHE 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.

The hinges creaked as she lifted the lid. Nestled against the dark red satin lining was a beautiful necklace-and-earring set. The large ruby teardrop pendant hung from a delicate gold chain. The links gleamed with age and care. The earrings were smaller ruby teardrops with diamond chips at the top. Both pieces were heirlooms and had been given to her mother by her father’s grandmother when her parents had gotten married.

The last memory Hope had of the set was when she’d been eight—no, maybe nine—and watched as her parents prepared for the Cupid’s Couples charity party. She’d wanted desperately to go, but they’d told her she was too young.

Later that month her mom had died in a car crash.

The familiar pain lanced through her. It had been over twenty years. She wondered when the loss would stop sneaking up on her.

“I thought you’d sold these,” she breathed softly.

“Why would I do that?” her dad asked, incredulously.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve just never mentioned them so I assumed you didn’t have them anymore.”

“Your mom liked me to keep it in the safety deposit box when she wasn’t wearing it. I decided to leave it there until you got older and I could give it to you. Your mom wanted you to have it on your wedding day.”

Her wedding day? Even the mention of it gave her heart palpitations. “Whoa, I’m not even dating anyone.”

Her dad gave her a tiny frown. “I know. But I wanted to see you wear them and thought this was the perfect occasion. I know you’re going to the party. Maybe they’ll be a good luck charm and you’ll catch some nice man’s eye.”

“Dad, I do not need a man.”

Her dad was buying in to the town propaganda just a little too much for her peace of mind. Sure, Sweetheart embraced the hearts-and-flowers thing with gusto. The image pulled in tourists from nearby Charleston and Hilton Head and had provided them a sustaining source of income when the textile mill outside of town shut down more than twenty years ago.

The town was the perfect setting already, providing a charming, small-town romantic escape for couples and honeymooners. The Cupid’s Couples events had been going on for over fifty years.

But this was reality and her life in particular they were talking about. Marriage wasn’t part of her plan, at least not until her journalism career was back on track, which wasn’t going to happen as long as she was stuck at the Sentinel.

“You’re putting your name in for Cupid’s Couples at least, right?”

Hope sighed. She could lie to her dad… “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Why ever not, Hope? Your mom would be disappointed in you.”

She sucked in another breath against the surprise. How could she argue with him? She had no idea if her mom would be disappointed or not. She’d been too young when she died to really know her. She’d only seen her through the eyes of a child, not an adult aware of more than just her own selfish desires.

They were talking an awful lot about her mom today. Hope couldn’t remember the last time her dad had mentioned her … Probably not since his own illness and recovery.

That entire experience had been difficult for her—the prospect of losing her only remaining parent. Even now the thought sent panic skittering just beneath her skin. Wanting to change the subject, Hope returned to something that had been bothering her since he’d said it. “Why were you cleaning out the safety deposit box?”

He glanced away from her, suddenly finding something incredibly interesting on the wall behind her head. “No reason, really. It was a chore I’ve been putting off for a while. It’s so easy to forget what’s in there.”

Leaning across the desk, Hope grasped her dad’s hand. His startled eyes shot to hers.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered without flinching.

“Thank you for Mom’s jewelry. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

Happiness stretched across his face. “Wonderful.” Pulling his hand out from under hers, her dad stood and headed for the door.

He turned, and with that mischievous glint in his eyes that always left her feeling slightly uneasy, he said, “Maybe you can use their glitter to catch Gage’s eye. He’s always had a thing for you and it would be a coup for our little paper if you could get an exclusive interview.”

Yeah. She’d get right on that. And worry later about disappointing her dad by giving the story to the Courier.

4

HOPE WAS ALWAYS AMAZED at the Cupid committee’s ability to completely transform the basement of St. Luke’s. For as long as she could remember the cocktail party that kicked off the weeklong festivities had been held at the church. Tonight everyone who had paid to be paired—and a few who hadn’t—would be matched with an eligible man or woman for Valentine’s week. They’d participate in events and go out on dates. The hope being that after the week some of the couples might find they were perfect together. Hope had other plans for the man she’d nominated and the week she’d purchased.

Apparently the theme this year was red and gold. Someone had tacked large panels of dark red crushed velvet along the walls, camouflaging the peeling beige paint beneath. Swags of gauzy gold material hid the boring acoustic-tiled ceiling and caught the light from the hundreds of candles burning on the tables, bouncing it back onto the crush of people milling below.

Normally St. Luke’s was big enough to comfortably hold the entire town, but with the addition of tourists even the huge basement was stretched to capacity. Although no one—young, old, single, taken—would miss Matching Night. Too much gossip.

One of their reporters was moving through the crowd, ready to report all the drama. Tonight she was more likely to be the story than the one recounting it. Not that she intended to tell anyone her role in what was about to go down.

Not if she expected it all to work … Butterflies fluttered uncomfortably inside her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous. Maybe college. Yeah, probably over some major exam.

And, really, this wasn’t much different. When she thought about it, her reaction was normal. An assignment. A test. That’s all this was. It had nothing to do with Gage or the fact that she’d pulled a sizable chunk out of her rainy day fund to ensure she had an entire week of his undivided attention.

Pressing a hand to her tummy to calm the butterflies, she stood on tiptoe and tried to find her friends.

She spotted Jenna, the town’s only caterer and one of her best friends, by the large—and temporary—bar, and waved. When Jenna noticed her she mouthed “everything okay?” Jenna gave a single nod that was at odds with the frown lines creasing the middle of her forehead. But before Hope could move that way one of the tux-clad waitstaff was pulling her away.

Hope debated whether to go after her, but decided Jenna was probably just stressed and interrupting would only add to that.

“Over here,” Lexi called out, waving from a table halfway across the room. Hope pushed through the crowd, slipping into the last empty seat.

Around the table their friends greeted her—Macey, Willow, Jade, Lanie, Regan and Tatum. Normally, Jenna would have been part of their group, but she was obviously busy tonight.

They were an eclectic bunch. She’d known Willow, Lanie and Jade from kindergarten, and despite a few hormone-fueled moments during their teenage years, they’d always been close. Tatum had joined their group when she moved here to buy Petals. Willow, always worried about making everyone feel welcome, had adopted her. She shouldn’t have worried. Tatum could be abrasive, but you always knew where you stood with her and everyone rather liked her. Macey, a bit older than the rest of them, was Willow’s business partner.

Despite the difference in their ages, Hope and Lexi had always been friends, growing up on the same street. Although, Hope had been even closer to Gage. At least until he left. After Lexi opened Sugar & Spice right behind the newspaper offices their friendship had quickly rekindled. At first Hope had worried Lexi would hold a grudge for how her friendship with Gage had ended, but she’d never even mentioned it. Hope was glad because she really liked Lexi.

“What have I missed?” Hope asked, eyeing the line at the bar and calculating whether she had time to grab a martini before the festivities started.

“Not much,” Tatum groused. “No catfights yet, but I pray that ends pretty quickly.”

Lexi just rolled her eyes. “You know you don’t have to be here.”

“And miss all the excitement?” Tatum exclaimed, her eyes round with mock innocence as she gulped down her whiskey and seven.

Tatum had grown up in Detroit and didn’t always get the idiosyncrasies that came with living in a small southern town—like antiquated traditions that went back generations. But she always attended, even if she needed some liquid courage to get through the experience.

“You know, one of these years I’m going to pay to put your name in just so I can see you squirm,” Lexi threatened, a gleam in her eye.

Willow leaned across the table. “This year. Please, do it this year. I need the entertainment.”

“Don’t worry.” Tatum rattled the naked ice in her empty glass and eyed the bar line. “I brought my checkbook just in case I needed a get-out-of-jail payment. I’m not interested in any of the men in this town and I have no intention of being forced into a torturous week with one of them.”

“Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad. There must be someone you’re interested in.” Jade plucked the glass out of Tatum’s hand and plopped her mostly untouched amaretto sour in its place. Tatum took a sip, grimaced, eyed the bar line again and drank some more.

“You forget. I deliver flowers to the wives when they feel guilty and the mistresses when they don’t.”

Hope just shook her head. Weren’t florists supposed to be romantics? To have perpetual smiles and sunny dispositions? That definitely did not describe Tatum.

“What about Gage?” Macey’s soft voice piped up. Lexi frowned.

“What about him?” Tatum asked.

“Well, he’s a war hero. Just home, so you’ve never met him and definitely haven’t delivered any flowers to wife, mistress or girlfriend. What’s wrong with him?”

Tatum’s gaze shifted to Lexi for a moment. Pain and guilt filled her eyes before flitting away. What the heck was that about? “Nothing. I’m sure he’s great, but I don’t do soldiers.”

“Who do you do?” Regan asked.

Willow shocked them all by adding, “You know if it’s girls we’d be fine with that.”

Tatum sputtered, choking out, “No,” as she tried to inhale her drink.

“Just checking.” Willow shrugged.

Gage slipped up behind his sister, wrapping her in the kind of hug that left Lexi bent over. “Save me,” he pleaded.

The butterflies took flight again inside Hope’s belly.

“Can’t. Breathe,” Lexi wheezed out, swatting at his arms clamped around her body.

His shoulder muscles flexed against the straining seams of his jacket. He was wearing his dress uniform, although Hope almost wished he hadn’t. It was … too much. He looked too good in it.

Something white flashed, drawing her eyes down to his hands and the bandages wrapped around his thumbs. Paired with the uniform they were both reminders of what he’d been through.

That he’d almost died.

A familiar temper that she thought she’d dealt with years ago punched through her. Logically, she realized she shouldn’t be upset with him for serving his country. And, really, she didn’t want to be. He’d made an honorable career choice.

One that had almost killed him.

Hope rolled her shoulders, and fought the urge to reach out and touch him—to make sure that he was real and there, instead of stuck in some dark hole in the middle of a hostile country.

To her, enlisting had been tantamount to Gage signing his own death warrant. She knew him too well. He was constantly pushing boundaries, testing himself and everyone around him. And it wasn’t as if he’d been destined for a desk job. Oh, no, it had been the front lines or nothing for him. From the moment he’d signed up his intention had been to get that Ranger Tab. And he’d done it.

But the thought of losing someone else she cared about … Hope just couldn’t do it.

Not that it had mattered any when the phone call about his capture had come into the newsroom. She hadn’t talked to him in twelve years and it had still felt as if her world was suddenly spinning out of control. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and didn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time until he’d been rescued.

So he was home and safe with only a few scars to show for the adventure. That status quo wouldn’t keep, and Hope knew it.

The butterflies swarmed up her throat, choking her. She swallowed them back down. And jerked her gaze straight up to Gage’s. He watched her, frowning.

Throwing her a dark glance, he grabbed a chair from another table and spun it close. “Gage,” Lexi yelped when he picked her up, chair and all, to make room. Her embarrassed gaze darted around. “What are you doing?”

With a negligent shrug, he set her down again and insinuated himself between Hope and Lexi. “Hiding.”

“Well, you suck at it,” Hope said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Willow gasped at her unintended pun. Hope cringed inwardly and fought the urge to look at the appendage she’d inadvertently brought into the conversation. Her nose wrinkled. Gage’s eyes narrowed.

Crossing his arms over that wide chest, he sprawled into his chair. Hope was worried the spindly back might give from his sheer power.

“A sore thumb, huh?”

Hope’s throat went dry, but she ignored it. Nodding, she raised an eyebrow and decided to brazen it out. “I would have expected someone with your training would be better at blending in, that’s all.”

“What do you know about my training?” He watched her, his gaze steady and unwavering even as it bored into her.

“Enough.” From the moment she’d heard Gage had been captured she’d found herself doing internet searches on everything she could find about the Rangers. She’d wanted to know just how much danger he’d been in.

The thought of him being tortured … It was one thing to realize he faced death every single day, but the kind of continued pain and suffering those white bandages represented was so much worse.

A taunting smile played at the corner of Gage’s mouth, doing nothing more than tugging up the edges. He’d always had the best smile. The kind of lopsided imperfection that carried a healthy dose of roguish charm.

Hope realized she hadn’t seen that smile once since he’d been home. Something tightened in the center of her chest. Absentmindedly, she reached up and rubbed the spot. Gage’s gaze followed the motion, snagging on the scooped neckline of her strapless dress.

Heat flamed up her chest. Quickly, she moved her hand up to circle her throat and grabbed the pendant hanging there instead. The prongs from the setting dug into her and so did the tiny kernel of guilt for what she was about to do.

But it was too late to stop, even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.

Gage shifted beside her. The tight seam of his uniform jacket strained against his shoulders. Lexi said something to him, Hope wasn’t even sure what. He turned away, releasing her from the pressure that had been building … until his arm dropped carelessly over the scalloped edge of her chair. Warm fingers brushed the curve of her naked shoulder. She nearly knocked Lanie’s drink over when she jackknifed away from the contact.

Several pairs of shocked eyes—but not Gage’s—turned to look at her. Luckily she was saved from coming up with an explanation when Mrs. Copeland walked to the podium in all her heirloom jewelry and big-hair glory.

A HUSH RIPPLED THROUGH the crowd. Gage suppressed the need to ruin the moment by dropping a glass to the floor or knocking one of the large floral centerpieces over. It was a childish urge and most of him realized that, but old habits died hard and troublemaker had been the only role he’d ever filled at these events until now.

To distract himself, he leaned forward, making some unnecessary comment to one of Lexi’s friends just so he could brush his fingertips across the smooth surface of Hope’s skin again. A shiver rippled through her body. He felt it, relished the reaction.

Perhaps his commanding officer was right and he was a masochist. He thought he’d learned his lesson with Hope a very long time ago, but apparently not.

Although, he had always loved playing with fire. Loved the excitement, the adrenaline, the knowledge that the reward was always better when you had to battle for what you wanted.

It was gratifying to realize Hope wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like.

A spotlight cut through the intentional gloom and wrapped around Mrs. Copeland.

Leaning closer to Hope, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Isn’t that the same dress she wore our senior year?”

She choked, making a desperate wheezing sound in the back of her throat even as she threw him a warning glare.

“Welcome to our annual Cupid’s Couple festival,” Mrs. Copeland began.

Everyone around him, including Hope, burst into applause. Gage didn’t bother. Not only was he less than enthusiastic about the whole damn thing, but it also would have required him to move his hand and he rather liked where it was.

“For our guests who aren’t familiar with our little tradition, over fifty years ago the citizens of Sweetheart decided Valentine’s Day was the perfect opportunity to pair off our single young people. The first event was a modest dance, but since then it’s grown into this weeklong celebration.”

She bestowed a benevolent smile across the entire crowd as if she was solely responsible for this boom in attendance. And she probably thought she was. For as long as he could remember Mrs. Copeland had been running an etiquette school for young men and women.

He’d been kicked out around age thirteen. The lizard he’d put down the back of her dress had died a valiant death for a good cause. To steal a phrase from Mrs. Copeland herself, bless his squished heart.

“For the past week our town Cupid has been receiving nominations for those interested in participating in our festivities. Tonight the fun begins when each of our young ladies is paired with an escort for the week.

“While we don’t expect everyone will fall madly in love …” Mrs. Copeland winked conspiratorially at the crowd. The gesture might have worked if her false eyelashes hadn’t been so heavy that she could barely open her eye again. “I’ll be surprised if we don’t have several permanent matches after the festivities are over.

“But don’t worry, there’s plenty of fun even if Cupid’s arrow doesn’t strike true. The town and many of our businesses have sponsored group events, donated dates and exciting prizes for everyone to enjoy.”

Mrs. Copeland frowned. “Now, for those of you who remember the little mishap from several years ago—” the frown tightened into a fierce glare that swept across the crowd “—never fear. Anyone nominated without their consent will have the opportunity to buy their way out of the events. But you must do it immediately because this get-out-of-jail option is only available tonight.

“But I’m certain we won’t have anyone taking advantage of that this year. I’ve seen the list and I think our Cupid made some excellent choices.”

Snapping open a piece of white paper with a huge red Cupid watermarked right in the middle, Mrs. Copeland instructed the men to come to the stage to present small bouquets of pink-and-orange roses someone had prepared.

“Dennis Schroeder and Melissa Thompson.” A boy—probably sixteen or seventeen—moved to the front of the room. A pretty blond girl jumped up and followed immediately behind him. She beamed up at him when he handed her the flowers and it was evident the two were already a couple.

The room buzzed with a myriad of emotions as name after name was read. Some people were obviously happy. Others were surprised. No one seemed upset … yet. Several of Lexi’s friends were called away, although none of them appeared particularly excited about the prospect they’d been given.

Another name was read, one he didn’t recognize. Gage didn’t pay much attention, assuming the guy was an outsider, until Mrs. Copeland read out his sister’s name. “Alexis Harper.”

Beside him, his sister bounced out of her chair. With a wide smile on her face, he watched her wind through the tables up to the front of the room and realized he’d met the stranger, after all. It was the same guy who’d come in behind him at Sugar & Spice. And he did not like the way this guy was looking at his sister.

Gage clenched his hands beneath the table. His thumbs throbbed, but he ignored the pain. His entire body bunched with the intention of jumping up to wipe that satisfied smirk off his smug face. But a hand slapped down onto his thigh and tightened warningly.

“Don’t,” Hope breathed. “She knows what she’s doing. She paid to be paired with him.”

His eyes burned with the trapped heat of resentment when he turned them at Hope. But she didn’t budge, and neither did her hand. In fact, her grip tightened. As if that was enough to keep him seated at the table if he didn’t want to stay.

But somehow he found himself doing just that. He stared into her green-gold eyes and his hard muscles suddenly eased. The startlingly quick and disturbing need to lash out at something—the guy ogling his sister would have worked—disappeared.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air that smelled just like her—crisp, sharp but somehow still mysteriously sexy.

“I’ve saved the best for last. Gage Harper.”

Startled, he jerked away from Hope, grateful for the distraction. Until the reason Mrs. Copeland was calling his name sank in.

The entire room stared expectantly at him. After everything he’d been through in the past few weeks—torture, rescue, hospital, debriefing and media circus—being the center of attention should have been easy. It wasn’t. Gage hated all the attention. How could having the barrel of a gun digging into the side of his skull feel less dangerous than having every eye in the crowd on him?

“I know most of you are aware of the events leading up to Gage’s return home. And while we won’t be getting into that this week, I’m certain no one will be surprised to learn that the committee recently voted to make the Wounded Warrior Project the beneficiary of this year’s events.”

Mrs. Copeland held out the final bouquet of roses and gestured toward him. Gage’s gaze darted restlessly around the room, looking for anything or anyone that might rescue him from this moment. His eyes landed on his mother, the woman beaming at him. Next to her, his father sat tall and straight in the uncomfortable chair. For the first time he could remember, pride filled his eyes.

The shock of that reaction, more than anything else, had Gage standing. The entire room erupted into applause. Somehow he found himself beside Mrs. Copeland as she read out, “Hope Rawlings.”

Murmurs bounced through the crowd, although he wasn’t sure what they meant. Were they as shocked as he was? He wasn’t sure how to react. Or what Hope might do. That’s why he stood there, frozen, every muscle in his body tense.

She shifted restlessly on her chair and for a moment he was sure she was about to decline the match. Great. Of all the people they could have paired him with.

He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten on the damn list. Probably his mom. Or sister. He’d kill them later.

No doubt whoever this year’s Cupid was had thought to do him a favor. Everyone knew he and Hope had been friends. Not everyone knew they weren’t anymore. They’d probably figured Hope was safe.

Boy, were they wrong.

A frown rippled across Hope’s face before she wiped it away. She obviously didn’t want this any more than he did. Spreading his hips wide, he braced for what was coming as if he could find his center of gravity and counter the blow just like he had inside that ring.

To his surprise, it never came. Instead, Hope slowly pushed up from the table and began walking toward him. A hush fell over the crowd, the quietest he’d heard them all night. He wasn’t the only one waiting to see what Hope would do.

The spotlight that had illuminated Mrs. Copeland swung to her. It bathed her in a golden light, making her warm blond hair glow.

Maybe she was just coming up front so she could look at the crowd when she announced that she’d be using that escape clause and paying to extricate herself from an unwanted week paired with him. But the closer she moved to the stage the less certain he was that she was going to reject the match. Her mouth stayed stubbornly shut, pressed tightly into a straight line.

Then it hit him. She couldn’t do that without looking like a complete bitch. Thanks to his capture and rescue he’d become the town golden boy. No one would forgive her for rejecting him now—especially in front of a room full of strangers.

Gage opened his mouth to do it for her, but even as his lips parted, he realized the words wouldn’t come.

Hope stopped in front of him. The room shrank down to just the two of them, everyone else fading away. He looked down into her bright eyes and realized they were full of dread and hope. Her hands stayed solidly at her side, clasped together, as if she didn’t expect him to actually offer her the bouquet he was holding.

Her eyes pleaded with him. This was his chance for a little payback. To reject her publicly in front of the entire town.

He couldn’t do it.

Slowly, he extended the flowers, offering them to her. The entire room sighed, as if they’d been collectively holding their breaths.

Gage was surprised to see a slight tremble in her hand when she reached for the bouquet and brought it against her chest.