by Terri Reed
For Sarah Kate and Maggie. You know why.
Acknowledgments
Many, many thanks—
To my editor, Melissa Endlich, and to Assistant Editor Elizabeth Mazer. Steeple Hill is blessed with an amazing editorial staff!
To Brian Stampfl, CSI detective in Seattle, Washington—for answering questions and being generally brilliant.
To meteorologist Jason Kelley, for expert advice (and expert forecasting, of course!).
One of the best parts of writing is learning new stuff—I love hearing advice and opinions from the experts about things as I’m writing. Any details that I get right are usually because of them. Any details that are wrong are definitely all on me.
Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:
The faithful love of the LORD never ends!
His mercies never cease.
—Lamentations 3:21, 22
ONE
An unusual silence fell as CSI Maria Fuentes strode into the precinct room. The norm would be everyone grabbing for evidence reports, drilling her with questions, pushing her to finish with their Very Important Evidence that exact minute. When the cops all scattered to hide from her, she knew something was up.
Gabe Sloan peered over the top of his laptop, his brown eyes wide but filled with the kind of mischief that she knew couldn’t be good. When it came to finding trouble, criminals had nothing on cops with time on their hands.
She narrowed her eyes and pinned him with her meanest look. “What’s going on, cowboy?”
In answer, he picked up the remote control from his desk and unmuted the television. She turned toward it as Ben Storm’s handsome face filled the screen. As a scientist, she could understand the appeal of “everyone’s favorite weatherman.” The black hair that fell over his eyes just right and the gray eyes that held a promise of something a little dangerous.
But she’d gone to high school with him. She knew better than anyone that the nice-guy routine was just that. A routine.
Her mouth fell open as a picture of herself appeared in the right-hand corner of the screen. Possibly the most unflattering picture ever taken, as she’d bent over evidence, her hair caught up in a knot with a pencil, serviceable black eyeglasses on her face.
Ben Storm laughed as the anchor slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, Ben. I’m sure she’s a great girl.”
Maria snatched the remote out of Gabe’s hand and muted the television again, this time piercing Joe Sheehan with a quelling look. “Am I going to have to ask?”
Joe shifted uneasily beneath her gaze, his muscles bunching under his Sea Breeze Police Department T-shirt. “It was a win-a-date-with-the-weatherman contest and we just thought, you know…”
“We?” She glanced around the room, back to Gabe.
“All us guys.” The mischief in Gabe’s eyes had faded and apparently reality was setting in. Like maybe he was realizing it hadn’t been such a good idea to prank her. No kidding. “Come on, Maria, we all know how long it’s been since you’ve had a date.”
“What am I supposed to do with…him?” She vaguely waved a hand at the television. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the image of the man who, as a high school senior, had brought her one of the single most humiliating experiences of her life.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Wednesday to Saturday there’s a big weather conference in Destin and you’re supposed to be his date to the dinners and stuff. Then Saturday you’re both coming back here for Sea Breeze’s annual charity Christmas ball.”
“No. Way.”
Real alarm crossed Gabe’s features then. “Sailor’s heading up the committee for the ball this year, Maria. The television station promised my wife media coverage, and Ben Storm promised a huge donation.”
“He doesn’t even live here anymore.” A headache grew behind her eyes, but she refused to let them see how much this bothered her.
“His parents do. And since he grew up in Sea Breeze, he has ties to the community. Come on, Maria. We’re raising money for the Children’s Hospital.”
She didn’t move, waited until she saw a tiny bead of sweat appear on Gabe’s forehead. She sighed. “When is this thing?”
He pushed away from his desk and gestured to one of the other cops, who plopped an overnight bag in front of her. An overnight bag that looked suspiciously like her own.
She looked around the room, from face to smirking cop face. “Seriously?”
Joe Sheehan threw one hard arm around her. “Have a good time, honey. Don’t worry about the ‘kids.’ We’ll take care of everything.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” She closed her eyes, her mind swirling. She didn’t want to go on any date, least of all with Ben Storm. But now that these goobers had gotten her into this, if she didn’t go through with it, she’d be letting down the whole town. Not to mention, she’d look like a bad sport in front of the entire police force.
Maybe she could go to the ball and Ben Storm could go to the conference on his own. That would be a compromise they could all live with. As soon as she saw Ben Storm, she would just explain the situation. Surely he would understand.
When she opened her eyes, the cops standing around took a visible step back. “Oh, yeah. You losers better be afraid. When I get back, you are in so much trouble.”
Meteorologist Ben Storm looked at his watch, narrowing his eyes against the wind kicked up by the rotors of the helicopter. He was waiting on some woman named Maria to arrive at the helipad, a woman who would be his date for the weekend, a woman who was now more than ten minutes late.
A decade in television had broken that habit in him. He paced the perimeter of the pad, glanced at his watch again and sighed. Nerves—something he hadn’t felt in years—jangled slightly in his belly. Why in the world had he agreed to do this?
Oh, right. Contract renegotiation. He wanted out. This was his compromise with the network. One big publicity stunt to get ratings up and he could move back to his hometown and be the local weather expert, doing only the occasional special report for Weather 24. Less stress, more time to fish. More time with family. His big plan.
He took another look at the watch face then glanced around, feeling slightly exposed out here in the open on the helipad. Maybe it was just nerves. His date—Maria, he reminded himself—actually had the upper hand here. She knew who he was. All he knew about her was her name and that she came from his hometown. His coworkers had picked her for him. And it had obviously been a joke.
Since his wife died two years ago, his coworkers had set him up with a string of women. Correction: tried to set him up. His friends at work had different priorities than he did. They went for looks first, substance a distant second. And with Ben’s life, he couldn’t afford to fall for just a pretty face.
Consequently, from the picture of the woman they’d picked, it was obvious that their choice here was a poke at him for turning down all the gorgeous women they’d sent his way.
Well, he didn’t have a choice. He had to make the best of it, had to make it work. Hopefully, he would show his date for the weekend the time of her life. And then he could go on with his.
A horn blared as a car came barreling around the corner, red-and-blue lights on the dash flashing. Finally. Wait—his date was a cop?
The sedan jerked to a stop and she climbed out, corkscrews of light brown hair whirling around her face. Fortunately, she had on cargo pants, a T-shirt and boots, rather than the police officer blues he’d been half expecting.
The guy with her didn’t have on a uniform either, but he did have a weapon, right there on his hip. He opened the trunk and tossed an overnight bag at her. She snagged it out of the air and turned toward Ben.
She was small, Ben could see that now, but walked with purpose. All he could see of her face in the wind were those wild, springy curls and her sunglasses against the midday sun.
He met her just outside the edge of the helipad and took her bag, shouting over the noise of the news chopper.
His smile was the product of years of practice. “Hi, I’m Ben. You must be Maria. Come on, we’ve got kind of a time crunch. The news crew is waiting on us in Destin. If the footage is going to make the broadcast, we’ve got to hurry.”
He pitched her bag over the seat and held a hand out to her. She hesitated, but put her hand in his and he gripped it. He gave her an easy boost, but she didn’t need it. With athletic grace, she climbed into the chopper and slid into the far seat.
The whine of the engine powered up even as he climbed in beside her, letting his backpack slide down to rest by his feet. He pulled on headphones and motioned to her to do the same. “Okay, so it’s a short hop to Destin. We’re going to land on the helipad at the Emerald Island resort. The news crew will be on the ground to meet us there. They’ll shoot us as we get off the chopper. We’ll stop, say a few words. They’ll film us getting into the elevators. Easy, right?”
She muttered something about shooting that he didn’t catch. He moved her mike closer to her mouth. “’Scuse me?”
“Nothing. I need to talk to you about something.” She slid her sunglasses off and he blinked. Her eyes were brown with flecks of gold and rimmed with the most fantastic eyelashes he’d ever seen. Long and dark, they curled almost to her eyebrows. If he couldn’t tell she had no makeup on, he’d swear that they were fake. But there was clearly nothing fake about Maria Fuentes.
Ben blinked again. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk once we get there.”
“No, Ben, I need to—”
He held up a finger, stopping her. The gleam on the aquamarine water outside the window caught his eye. Crab Island, the hangout where locals brought their boats and anchored, had long been a favorite spot of his. He took a deep breath. He was so close to being home free. To being home.
To the pilot he said, “Fly in close. Let the cameras get a good close-up of the helicopter, then circle back and land.”
He glanced at his date. She had a slightly green cast to her face. Maybe not a fan of flying? “We’ll be there soon. Don’t worry—we’ll have plenty of time to chat later.”
She sank back against the seat. She didn’t really seem too excited about their big weekend. In fact, she didn’t act like she wanted to be here at all.
His headphones crackled with the pilot’s voice. “Coming around for the first pass.”
Ben leaned closer to the window. Yep, there was his crew, down there waiting for him and his date. The pilot banked into a turn and within minutes had effortlessly set the chopper on the resort’s helipad.
He pulled off his headphones and, out of the corner of his eye, saw his date, Maria, do the same. She’d covered those beautiful eyes with her ugly sunglasses, so he reached up and slid them off, folding them and putting them in his pocket. “Show off those pretty eyes.”
She narrowed them and he grinned. “And don’t forget to smile. This will be over before you know it.”
“Yes, I’m really thrilled and excited to be here with Ben.” Maria had said it, but she didn’t mean it. She smiled for the camera anyway. The wind on the roof of the resort parking deck whipped her hair into a tangle of unruly curls.
Ben slid an arm around her and gave the camera thumbs-up. “That’s a wrap, guys. Not everyone is used to multiple takes and probing personal questions.”
The crew laughed and let them pass. And with that one comment, a grudging sense of gratitude found its way into the nothingness she’d forced herself to feel for Ben Storm after he’d stolen her dream. He was more considerate than she’d expected.
The elevator doors glided open as they approached. Ben pulled a slim folder from his pocket and took out a key card, slid it into a slot and punched the top floor. “We have the penthouse.”
“Sounds nice, but Ben—”
“You won’t believe the view.”
Okay, maybe not so considerate after all. Did he have to keep interrupting? She drew in a breath to start again and instead slanted a glance at him. As they rose, he stared at the numbers. It seemed that he didn’t recognize her at all from all those years ago. She shook her head. Did it even matter?
He stepped forward as the doors opened directly into the penthouse living room and held them for her to pass.
She hadn’t been prepared, not at all, for what she would see. Every surface gleamed with luxury. Marble floors, sumptuous furnishings, exquisite stone countertops. Without a doubt, no expense had been spared, but beyond the obvious opulence of the suite of rooms, the bank of windows offered an unimpaired view of the Gulf of Mexico.
Almost without conscious thought, she walked toward the window, catching her breath at the color of the water. Aqua fading to emerald, it defied description.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” She hadn’t heard him walk up beside her, but took an instinctive step away from him.
“The gulf almost always is, even at its worst.” She remembered that she needed to talk to him. “Ben, I can’t stay here.”
A grin spread across his face, showing his perfectly even row of gleaming white teeth. Even his teeth were pretty. In comparison, she felt like the ugly duckling.
“You aren’t expected to stay with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s an adjoining suite, called a lockout. It has its own entrance and elevator—and a locking door.” He walked toward the expansive dining table, a sea of glass topped with a huge arrangement of fruit and chocolates.
“That’s not it.” She corrected herself. “I mean, that’s nice, but here’s the thing, Ben. I didn’t sign up for this. My coworkers entered me in this contest, sent in that horrible picture and basically set me up. I really can’t do this.”
His eyes went hard and for a moment—just a split second, really—she saw the boy he’d once been. The tough kid, fighting his way in and out of trouble and then to the top of the class. But just that fast, he was the smooth-talking stranger again. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“It was a joke, Ben. They thought it would be funny.” She took two steps away from him, dragged a breath into her too-tight chest. When he’d won the Senior Science Award that everyone thought was hers for the taking, she’d been devastated. College was a dream that the award scholarship would’ve placed within her reach. That she’d eventually made it had lessened the humiliation. Sort of.
But that moment had nothing on what she felt now, admitting this to him.
Ben didn’t say anything, didn’t look at her, just picked up a chocolate and watched it as he tossed it into the air and caught it. Again and again.
She barreled on. “Listen, I know that you’re expected in Sea Breeze at the charity ball on Saturday, so I figured that if we made an appearance there, everyone would be happy and that would be that. You won’t even have to entertain me all week.”
He snagged the chocolate out of the air and turned those stormy-gray eyes on her. “No, that won’t work.”
Panic bubbled in her stomach. “What? Why?”
Ben shook his head. “This ‘win a date’ contest has been months in the planning. The crew is already here. I—my employers—have a lot riding on this. I’m not going to let them down.”
He popped the chocolate into his mouth. “I’m sorry you don’t want to be here, but since you did come, you may as well make yourself comfortable. The first event is dinner in four hours. And it’s the National Weather Broadcasters Awards dinner. Formal attire.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Maria stalked back to the window, looked out.
He coughed. Cleared his throat. Coughed again.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see Ben Storm with the upper hand once again.
A crash sounded behind her. She whirled around.
Ben had knocked a chair over. He fell to the ground, his hands at his throat. His lips were swollen to twice their normal size, his breath rasping in and out in short, frantic attempts for oxygen.
Maria ran to him, dropping to her knees at his side. He was still conscious but barely. “EpiPen. D
o you carry one?”
“Backpack.” He forced the words out.
Most people with extreme allergies carried a kit, and he’d been carrying a small, black backpack all day. What had he done with it when they came in? There. By the elevator.
She ran for it, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. Grabbing the bag from the floor, she unzipped it as she ran back to him. Oh, dear God, his lips are blue. Please help him.
“Ben!” She dug through the pack.
Throwing things onto the floor as she went, she tossed out a pack of gum, a small spiral notebook and a tattered Bible, nearly crying in relief when her hand closed around the EpiPen.
She tore the top off the case, pulled the pen out and jammed it into his thigh. Within seconds he took a breath. And so did she.
As his color returned to a less scary-pale version of his normal healthy tan, she pressed an albuterol inhaler into his hand. She pushed to her feet and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. In the other room, she collapsed against the wall, pressing her shaking hands against her mouth.
Ben roused slightly as she got back to his side. She slid a sofa pillow under his head. “Okay?”
He nodded, but didn’t open his eyes. She pulled out the Benadryl she’d seen in his backpack and punched out two capsules, placing them in his hand. “Take these.”
She slid her arm behind his shoulders and helped him sit up enough to swallow the capsules of lifesaving antihistamine. Her heart rate slowly returning to normal, she peeled off her jacket and threw it on the sofa. “You scared the living daylights out of me. You trying to kill yourself?”
He opened his eyes then, taking a deep breath for the first time in a long few minutes. “No. But I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me.”
TWO
Ben leaned against the couch, fighting the shakes from the medication. He shot a glance at his date for the weekend. She was so quiet—probably wondering how long it would take her to pack up and get out of Dodge.