Читать книгу The Risk-Taker - Kira Sinclair - Страница 8

DARTING 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?”

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.