Josephine didn’t like lying, but she could do it with a straight poker face if she had to. Some lies were necessary; they protected or removed obstacles in a way the truth never would. She’d come up with her first alias when she was seventeen and her father had been shot during a deployment in the Middle East. Having always been a tinkerer on the side, her father had been working on a fabric cheaper than the Army-issued bulletproof gear. According to her father, she had a “scientifically inclined brain,” so she’d understood the roadblock he’d hit in his design. Bored in a regular classroom, she’d excelled in online courses that allowed her to dig into how things worked. She’d tested out of high school at sixteen, but even the online college classes hadn’t held her interest. Her father’s work had. Her mother had left when Josephine was an infant; she’d never seen the point in searching for her. Why bother?
Her father had been her parent and her hero.
He was creative with his inventions, but would hit a ceiling where his dream exceeded his ability. With a little help, she’d known he could sell one of his ideas for enough money that he could retire. So, Josephine had gone online and pretended to be a professor from a foreign university. She’d contacted and opened dialogue with key people in a variety of fields who were experimenting with the various polymers. The more she learned, the more she shared, and in return, the more they shared with her.
At first she’d been intimidated by their degrees and titles, but as more and more of her ideas were well received and implemented, she became more confident and sought after. Over the last eleven years she’d used three different online aliases to build a dark web network of scientists from a wide range of fields who collaborated anonymously on each other’s projects. Their help enabled her father to eventually finish his bulletproof fabric design, which he sold to the Army for a modest amount and bought a home in Connecticut. Over the years, her covert think tank had gelled into a community where great minds brought their questions and received feedback from peers with different yet equally qualified viewpoints. No questions asked. No credit awarded. All participation guaranteed reciprocal support from the community. Their common goal: saving lives and moving humanity forward, everything from reducing the production cost of portable water purification systems for third world countries to improving the shields for the international space station.
Lying for a good cause wasn’t lying at all—not in her book.
That philosophy allowed her to look Gabe directly in the eye and create a new identity on the spot. “Josie Arlington.”
His smile was confident, smooth, and sexy as hell. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not at all,” she said, hating how her own lips betrayed her and curled in an answering smile. Her heart was beating wildly but not due to who she’d feared he was when he first arrived or that he’d drastically reduced her timeline for finishing the new fuel cell for StealthOff. Both occurrences should have been more important than how the distribution of melanin in his irises scattered and reflected the light resulting in a complex, almost artistic blend of blue, green, and brown. She knew the hues created were dictated by how her own eyes perceived the variation in light rather than actually being that color, but that knowledge didn’t make them any less striking.
She tried to dismiss her attraction to him. People were predisposed to react to a certain combination of pheromones and physical symmetry. Also, biologically, she was likely at a stage in her menstrual cycle where she would naturally find herself drawn to healthy, muscular males. Hell, it was also exciting to meet a man she couldn’t knock down or run off.
Had that ever happened before?
She realized she was standing there, smiling at him—in adoration—and gave herself an inner shake. Stop. This is not the time to think about how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Tim was a year ago—no, two. Shit, no wonder I can’t think straight.
But I have to.
His presence alone is enough to risk everything I’ve worked for.
No one can or will know who I am or what I’m doing. I’m so close. Once again, all I need is a little more time. I will clear Dad’s name.
That’s what matters, not this man or the flutters I get when he looks at me.
Think. His father left him the place, and he wants to sell it. How can I use that to buy myself more time? Do I need to go from someone who just tried to send him face first into the dirt to someone else? She’d spent most of her life either online, in a lab working on something with her father, or exercising, the latter because her father had always maintained that a good brain required a healthy body. Half her childhood had been her father’s version of boot camp. She could spar with the best in a variety of martial arts, but flirt? That was one skill she hadn’t acquired over her mostly solitary life, but she decided to give it her best shot. “You won’t even notice I’m here. I’ve been using this guest house, but I can move to wherever is most convenient for you.” She awkwardly fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“You’re welcome to stay where you are for now.”
“Thank you.” Her attempt at a purr resulted in a cough. He was watching her so closely she started to sweat nervously. She raised a hand to wipe her forehead and noticed how his eyes fell to her breasts.
This might be easier than I thought.
She ran a hand across her collarbone slowly, trying to make the move look nonchalant. It might have been wishful thinking, but she could have sworn his cheeks flushed slightly. “I’m surprised you want to sell the place so quickly.”
His eyes returned to hers, and the hunger she saw there sent warmth flooding through her and temporarily muddled her thoughts. Desire wasn’t foreign to her. She wasn’t a virgin. She’d had sex with two and a half men. The car mechanic had been great in bed, but had also wanted to bed everyone she knew. The physicist had been faithful, but he couldn’t bring her to climax and his rationalizations for why were tedious. Then there’d been Tim, a web designer she’d met in a coffee shop. He’d seemed promising. Smart. Funny. Good kisser. In the end, though, he’d been unable to sustain an erection. If there’d been any penetration at all, it had been halfway, so Josephine didn’t give him full credit.
None of them had sent flames licking through her with just a look. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, imagining how he’d taste. “It’s beautiful.” He’s beautiful.
His eyes dilated and he took a deep breath. “It is, but it would never fit my lifestyle.”
“Are you sure? You haven’t been here in a while. There’s no need to rush into a decision.” Her husky tone surprised even herself. She was trying to convince him to put off the sale of the ranch, not hop into bed with her.
Keyword: not. No matter how deliciously fit he probably is beneath that suit. She took a moment to appreciate the width of his shoulders and the strong cut of his jaw. It was insanely easy to imagine loosening his tie then using it to pull his face down to hers.
God, I’ve obviously spent too much time alone lately.
He leaned closer. “That’s why I’m here until Sunday. My aunt thinks it’ll change my mind.” His face hovered just above hers. “It won’t. Once I make a decision I don’t second-guess it.” His breath tickled her parted lips. “Usually.”
Chapter Two
Gabe hadn’t grown one real estate deal into a brand with instant name recognition, as well as exponentially increasing profit each year, by chance. His friends called it dogged determination. His competition said he was obsessed with winning. Either way, Gabe was used to getting what he wanted, but he wasn’t used to wanting anyone or anything so clearly wrong for him.
He could only imagine how he’d look back at that weekend. What did Luke do when Dad died? He reunited with a woman he claims is the love of his life. What did I do? I screwed a gun-toting ninja who said she was supposed to be at the ranch but was really just a squatter.
Good?
It was amazing.
The right thing to do?
Hell no,
but I’d do it again.
Up close, Josie was even more tempting. Instead of the store-bought perfumes that sometimes assaulted his senses, Josie was deliciously natural. He breathed in the scent of her and savored the heat that seared through him. One taste of those sweet lips. That’s all I need.
Their eyes met and Gabe was momentarily enthralled by the complexity of his attraction to her. It went deeper than the perfection of her ass and the lush fullness of her lips. She was a fascinating mix of awkward and fierce. How much of that would carry over into the bedroom? If she’d looked a hair less vulnerable in that moment, he might have thrown caution to the wind and carried her into the guest house to find out. He couldn’t, though, not when she looked up at him with just enough innocent yearning to confuse him.
Something about her was bringing out a protective side of him he would have sworn he didn’t have. “Do you have any place to go when you leave here?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
He needed more. More answers. More of her. “How do you know Frank?”
Her eyes darkened. “He was a friend of my father.”
“Was?”
“My father died six months ago,” she said just above a whisper.
So, she lost her father recently as well. A sad thing to have in common. It stirred feelings he’d been hoping to avoid. His father wouldn’t want to be missed. He’d want his children to continue to forge ahead. “Were you close?”
“Inseparable. I miss him so much it’s hard to feel anything else. How about you?”
“I didn’t know my father was sick. I hadn’t seen him for a while. We were both too busy.” It wasn’t something Gabe had thought much about until just then. He’d admired his father. Respected him. But missed him? That would have required them spending time together. When did I last see him or Skype with him? The close Irish family he’d been born into, the one with seven brothers who all cared about each other and had parents who spent vacations with them had disappeared when his mother died. Nannies and excuses were the norm in the void Kathleen Brannigan had left in her wake. Twenty-three years was a long time to miss anyone, but he remembered everything about her. How his father laughed louder whenever she was around. How she’d made everything special from a walk through the woods to a cup of hot chocolate on a cold evening. For some inexplicable reason, a memory of her tending to a scrape on his knee came back with painful vividness. Her death had shaken and nearly destroyed his world. He wouldn’t let his father’s death reopen that old wound. But how was it I didn’t feel the same loss when I heard about my father?
He rubbed a hand over his forehead. The direction of the conversation was giving him a headache. “How long have you been here?”
“Since I lost my father. Frank said I could stay with him until I sorted some things out.”
“What kind of things?”
She looked as uncomfortable with his questions as he’d felt with hers. “I needed some time to think.”
It wasn’t the whole truth. She was holding something back, but he had no idea where to begin to guess what. “Did you leave a job behind?”
She took a step back. “If you don’t mind, I really should finish changing the spark plugs in the Ford.”
Gabe would have offered to help, but his knowledge of what happened beneath the hood of a car was limited to articles in men’s magazines. “I could have it towed to a local garage.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I’m almost finished anyway. If you’d arrived fifteen minutes later I would have been gone.” She shrugged one shoulder apologetically. “I was heading to town for groceries when I realized why the battery was dead again. You won’t find much in the main house, but after I finish, I can pick up supplies for you, too.”
He nodded toward his vehicle. “Or we could take my car into town.”
She looked past him and her eyes widened with recognition. “Is that an Aston Martin 2016 Vanquish Zagato Coupe?”
His chest puffed with pride. “It is.”
Gabe was quickly forgotten as she strode toward his car. He kept pace with her, completely understanding the look of wonder on her face. He’d felt the same the first time he’d seen it.
She ran her hand reverently over the wing mirrors. “I didn’t think it was out yet.”
“A small number became available early. This one was a gift from a grateful client.”
“Nice gift,” she said in a husky tone he suddenly wanted to hear her say his name in, but all of her attention was on the car. “Upgraded 6.0L V12 powertrain. Zero to sixty in three-point-five seconds. Herringbone carbon-fiber body. Quad exhaust. Their suspension is perfection. Whenever Aston Martin and Zagato collaborate they make more than a car—they make art. Look at the wheel arch and how it blends into the Zagato rear view. Every line is nothing short of breathtaking.” She frowned as she came across what he’d suspected he’d done to the car earlier. “Is that a scratch?”
Amusement at her reaction replaced his earlier aggravation. He shrugged. “Gravel driveway.”
She ran a hand lightly over the imperfection. “These babies are hand-painted, but that’s actually a good thing. I have a polishing machine that can take the mark right out. A little cleaner fluid, then some wax, and it would be good as new. Better, if you trust me to coat it with a sealant that will prevent this from happening again.”
“Thanks, but I have a service who does that sort of thing.” No way was she working on this car. Sex with a woman he barely knew? Completely feasible. Letting anyone who hadn’t been vetted attempt to buff out a scratch on his Aston Marin? That was crazy talk.
“Of course,” she said, letting her hand drop from the car. “Well, I should get back to my car.”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Her eyes flew to his and he saw desire flash in them before she looked away. “My fridge is pretty empty, and I’m sure the main house is worse.”
“There must be restaurants nearby. Which one is your favorite?”
“I always eat here.”
“Always?”
“Yes.” She hugged her arms across her stomach. “I don’t like to go out.”
Another warning bell went off in his head. Was she hiding from someone? The law? She obviously knew her way around cars. Who was she? Her eyes met his and the questions fell away. His heart began to thud wildly in his chest. “We’ll have something delivered then.” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
Indecision darkened her beautiful eyes and made him want her even more. Not since middle school had he issued an invitation and been uncertain as to what the response would be.
“Okay,” she said. “At the main or the guest house?”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “The main house.” He checked his watch. “At six o’clock. That will give me time to shower, order food, and get some calls in while you finish working on your car.”
“Six o’clock.” She looked adorably uncertain. “Should I bring anything?”
“No, I’ll have everything ready.” Food. Wine. Condoms.
The way she blushed made him wonder if he’d uttered his list out loud. When she didn’t address it, he decided her mind had merely gone where his had. She took a step back and said, “I’m sorry. I appreciate the offer but . . .”
He closed the distance between them, stopping just before touching her. “What are you afraid of?”
She looked torn for a moment, then she raised her chin. “Nothing. I simply don’t want you to think—”
“You don’t want me to imagine how incredible it would be to kiss you until you were saying my name over and over? Begging for more? Too late, it’s already damn near all I can think about.”
Her sweet lips rounded in a surprised circle. “We just met.”
“I’m willing to overlook that.”
She blinked a few times quickly. “Wow, that’s quite an ego you have there.”
He raised a hand t
o the side of her face and caressed it gently. “Want to humble me? Have dinner with me and prove how resistible I actually am.”
“That would be easy because you’re not my type at all. In fact, you’re the opposite of my type.”
“Then dinner should be no problem.” He walked over to the driver’s side of his car, opened the door and retrieved his laptop bag. “See you at six.” He shot her his sexiest smile and loved how her cheeks flushed before she turned away.
Once inside the main house, the first call he made was to the security firm he used for background checks on everyone he dealt with. Part of his success in real estate was due to how he checked for potential risks. He left nothing to chance. Others might be confused by a deal that fell through unexpectedly, but that was because they didn’t do their homework. Mining personal data was the newest gold rush. Everything worth knowing about a person could discretely be bought for the right price. He gave them Josie’s name, physical description, and her relationship to Frank Muller. It wasn’t much, but he’d provided them with less in the past and been impressed.
I’ll know her history before dinner.
And every inch of her before morning.
Josephine looked through her closet a second time before giving in to the humor of the moment. When she’d fled the East Coast she thought she’d planned for everything. She’d taken what she could carry on her bike and stored the rest of her tools and technology with a local man she knew through her father. Over time, she’d had her things shipped to her and purchased what she needed online. Hair dye, colored contacts, fake tattoos, computer servers. Slowly she’d crafted not only a new identity for herself off the grid, but she also built a hidden lab where she could continue to develop the alternate powercell for the bike.
StealthOff could run loudly on a large number of combustibles. The hybrid engine worked on everything from olive oil to jet fuel because it was designed to function in the most challenging situations. Constructed from metal alloys virtually indestructible, it had airless tires that most bullets couldn’t penetrate. It could be dropped from a plane, submerged in water, or driven briefly through fire and still function. Her father had watched too many Bond movies, but that was his magic. Nothing was impossible. In the very worst of imagined scenarios, additional wheels dropped down, steadying the bike, and a person could be strapped on. It could then be driven remotely by an encrypted transmission which would allow for extraction of an injured soldier. What it couldn’t do yet was not explode when the secondary power source, the one that allowed it to run silently, was engaged for more than five minutes. All previous attempts to keep the lithium-ion batteries cool either failed or required cumbersome systems that would be impractical to maintain in a hostile environment. Others in the field were experimenting with lithium-air as an alternative, but Josephine was branching out to magnesium-ion and sodium-ion because of their potential for better energy density and overall lower cost. Now if I could just stabilize the discharge.
Gabe Page 2