by Heather B. Moore, Kaylee Baldwin, Annette Lyon, Jennifer Moore, Shannon Guymon, Sarah M. Eden
After they ordered, Jack finally sent Silvia a text while Gwen was telling his mom about the most recent wedding she’d photographed. What’s wrong?
Did you see the paparazzo outside the restaurant?
Jack’s pulse increased. Maybe someone famous is coming tonight.
Like you.
Jack decided to ignore that. This restaurant is exclusive. He won’t get in.
Silvia frowned as she read his text.
Then he wrote, What do you think of Gwen? Mom seems to like her.
She’s beautiful, but naïve and unpolished. I can tell she really likes you, and you’re way past liking her.
Do I get official sister approval? He hadn’t realize how much he valued his sister’s opinion until she answered.
Yes. I just hope she puts up with you.
Jack looked up at Silvia and grinned. She smiled back, and suddenly everything was right. Gwen and his mother were still taking about her job, and then Silvia joined in, asking a few questions. The conversation turned to his mom’s books, and Jack could only feel pleased. His mother didn’t even talk about her work with her casual acquaintances, so this was definitely a good sign.
As it turned out, Gwen had bought some of his mom’s books for a niece. By the time they’d finished dessert, Jack felt pretty confident that Gwen had won his mom and sister over, and they’d won her over.
He hadn’t realized how much stock he’d put into the evening until they walked out of the restaurant after saying good-bye. Jack felt as if a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders.
He linked hands with Gwen as they waited for the valet to bring around his car. “So,” he said, leaning close to her ear, “what did you think?”
“The food was delicious.”
He slipped an arm about her waist. “About my mom and sister.”
She looked up at him, her expression sober. “You’re a lucky guy to have such a great family.”
He wasn’t expecting such a serious answer, and he suddenly realized how much meaning that one sentence had in it, coming from Gwen.
The valet pulled up, and Jack gave Gwen a quick kiss on the forehead before opening the door for her. The evening couldn’t have gone better. He took Gwen home and was pulling into his driveway when his mom called.
“She’s lovely, Jack,” she said. “Such a sweet girl.”
Jack couldn’t help grinning as he climbed out of his car. “I was hoping you’d think so.”
“And you are adorable around her,” his mom continued. “It makes me miss your father and when we were first dating. Of course, life eventually gets in the way of romance, but your father always took care of me.”
Jack was quiet for a moment as he unlocked the front door and went inside the house. He flipped on the lights, wishing his father were still alive and could meet Gwen. His phone beeped— Silvia.
“Mom, Silvia’s calling. Can we talk later?”
He switched the call over as he settled onto the kitchen barstool, prepared to hear Silvia praise Gwen as much as their mom had.
“Are you on Twitter?” Silvia asked.
Her tone of voice made him straighten. “No, what’s there?”
“Pictures of you and Gwen,” Silvia said. “And a bunch of links, to a collection of articles that were simultaneously published about fifteen minutes ago.”
Jack blew out a breath, his neck heating up. “How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they already had the articles written, but they just needed a picture to sensationalize it more.”
At this, Jack froze. “Sensationalize? What’s being sensationalized?”
Silvia went quiet for a moment. “Everything about Gwen. At least enough of it to hurt her— and you— and everyone.”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”
“Listen to me,” Silvia said. “You’ve only been dating Gwen for a few weeks and—”
“Stop,” Jack said. “I need to talk to Gwen. I’m not going to let the media or any article run my personal life.”
“Jack—”
He hung up, knowing he’d have to apologize later, knowing that his sister was only trying to help, to protect him. He opened the Twitter app on his phone and typed in a search for his name. A half-dozen specific news tweets showed up, some of them retweeted and favorited hundreds of times. He clicked on one of the article links. His blood went cold as he scanned the article.
Silvia was right; this could hurt Gwen. The pieces were downright nasty. They villainized her biological parents, one going so far as to call Gwen “trailer-trash.” The sites all focused on celebrity gossip, and although Jack didn’t consider himself a celebrity, the fact that he had more money than most of them apparently made his personal life news fodder.
Chapter Eleven
Gwen put her phone on silent and pulled the covers over her head, blocking out the morning light. Jack had called three times, texted more than that, and then the Unknown Caller started calling. Gwen had made the mistake of answering one of those, only to find out that the mini-media storm wouldn’t die out any time soon.
Last night had been more than perfect, and Gwen had finally managed to relax around Jack’s family. They were both amazing women, yet they made Gwen feel appreciated. And Jack had been his usual adorable and gentlemanly self.
But now, anxiety pulsed through Gwen. Because of her background, she and Jack’s picture was on every gossip website, and now moving to the mainstream channels. She’d talked to Leisa just moments ago to confirm it. When Gwen had said, “Maybe we aren’t meant to be together after all. The articles are all true, and it just puts our vast differences in black and white,” Leisa had gone quiet.
That was answer enough for her. She knew Jack would call, knew what he’d have said if she answered. He’d tell her to ignore the media, that it didn’t matter, that he still cared about her. But it was plain to Gwen that it would get old. Jack’s family would get tired of the constant comparisons that would follow them around if she and Jack stayed together.
It wasn’t fair to put Jack or his family through that. They’d suffered enough with the loss of their father, and Jack was incredibly busy taking over the company reins. Life was complicated enough without involving the rest of the world in her private relationship with Jack.
She scrolled through her missed phone calls and stopped at Jack’s number. She clicked to the voicemail and listened to his voice.
“Call me as soon as you can,” the first message said.
The next was more urgent and added an apology.
She reached the third one. “Gwen, I know how you must be feeling and what you might be thinking, but please, let’s talk. Don’t shut me out. I have to leave in a few minutes to make my flight, but Silvia is still in town and offered you a room at her hotel so that you can have some privacy from the media. I’ll be back in a few days, but please call me anytime. Day or night. I’m worried about you.”
Gwen exhaled. She didn’t want to involve herself in Jack’s life any more than she had to— especially if she was about to break things off. She listened to the next message, which was from a different number. Instead of hearing a reporter’s voice, she was surprised to hear Silvia extending the same invitation Jack had.
Before she could change her mind, she called Silvia back. She answered on the second ring.
“I’m sorry, Silvia, but I can’t take you up on your offer. I feel like I’ve already complicated things for your family.”
Silvia shook her head. “Last night I was worried about what was said, but after talking to Jack, I realized that his feelings about you are more important than anything the media might pick on.” She flashed a smile. “So, welcome to Mead Enterprises. Although I’m sorry you had to jump into the fire so quickly.” She sounded like the media blowup wasn’t a big deal.
That gave Gwen pause. “Look,” she started. “I’m really sorry. If I’d have known this would happen, I wouldn’t have let things go so far with Jack and—
”
“Gwen,” Silvia interrupted. “How do you feel about my brother?”
Her heart twisted at the question. Being honest would only make things more complicated. But then, Silvia already knew everything about her. And as Jack’s sister, she deserved the truth. “I’ve fallen in love with him. I know it’s fast and it sounds crazy, but he’s the most important thing to me. That’s why I think it’s best that I go my way, and he goes his. My past will always be a part of me, and the media has proved that in the last few hours.”
Silvia was quiet for several moments. Finally, she said, “I’d like to talk to you, face to face. Can I come over to your place?”
“All right,” Gwen said.
Silvia showed up eighteen minutes later, and by the time Silvia reached the steps of Gwen’s apartment, she’d opened the door.
Even after what must have been a long night for Silvia, she looked immaculate. Her ivory pantsuit was pressed and her makeup fresh. Gwen ushered her in, afraid that a photographer might be lurking somewhere.
As they sat on the couch, Silvia watched her closely. “Are you all right?”
“I think I’m in shock— it’s a lot to take in,” Gwen confessed. “I can’t put you guys through this. I feel like such a jerk.”
“You know, a few hours ago I might have agreed with you,” Silvia said.
Gwen stared at her, a lump forming in her throat.
“I might have told you that it would be best for you to stop seeing Jack,” Silvia continued. “But this morning, I drove Jack to the airport, and—” She broke off and looked away. A moment later, her gaze returned, and Gwen was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“He really cares about you, Gwen,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve never seen my brother so worried about anyone else. Not even me or our mom.” She reached for Gwen’s hand and grasped it. “I’m serious. He… he probably wouldn’t want me to say this, but I think he’s in love with you too.”
Gwen looked at her hand in Silvia’s and blinked back tears. Was it possible that Jack really felt that deeply for her?
Sylvia went on. “And that’s why I think you need to come with me to San Francisco to see him.”
Gwen snapped her head up and stared at Silvia.
She only smiled. “His meetings will be over in a few hours, and you can surprise him.” She squeezed Gwen’s hand. “We’ll get away from the media for a couple of days. You and I can do some retail bonding, and at night we can hang out with Jack.”
“But— what would he think? I created a media firestorm, and your family is the top gossip everywhere. He probably wants to stay clear of me for a while.”
“Honey, he’d love to see you,” Silvia said. “Trust me.”
Chapter Twelve
Less than an hour later, Gwen boarded a private jet with Silvia. Gwen couldn’t believe she was actually flying this way— and going to see Jack. The flight was much too short and didn’t give her a chance to calm her nerves. In fact, they were in even higher gear by the time she and Silvia were being driven through downtown San Francisco.
Silvia was growing on Gwen, not that she hadn’t liked her, but Silvia was out-spoken yet savvy, and considerate to everyone she came in contact with.
“We aren’t going to interrupt his meetings, are we?” Gwen asked as their chauffeured car glided through traffic.
Silvia checked the time on her phone. “Jack should be finished within the hour. I’ll tell him that I came to meet with him in one of the other conference rooms.” She looked up and smiled. “You’ll be there, he’ll see you, you’ll apologize for ignoring him, and everything will be made right.”
Gwen let out a stuttered breath. “Are you sure about this?”
Silvia narrowed her eyes. “Completely sure. Now quit worrying.”
The car stopped in front of an elegant building with massive pillars and a stone edifice over the doors that read Mead Enterprises. Before Gwen knew it, she was inside, seven floors up, and seated in a conference room with plush leather chairs while Silvia typed out a text to Jack.
Moments later, Silvia’s phone buzzed. “He says he’ll be here in twenty minutes.” She stood. “Call me later. We can meet for dinner. But I’ll understand if you two want to be alone.”
“Wait. You’re leaving me here?”
“Don’t worry,” Silvia said. “It’ll be a good surprise for Jack.” She bustled to Gwen’s side and gave her a brief hug. “Good-bye now.”
Gwen stared after her as she left, then proceeded to wait the longest twenty minutes of her life. Even so, she jumped when the door opened and Jack stepped through.
She stood, clutching her hands together. He looked surprised, yet wary, and Gwen didn’t blame him. She’d ignored all of his phone calls and texts.
He stayed in the doorway, his hand on the knob, as if he couldn’t decide if he should enter or leave.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” Gwen said, her voice shaky. She took a deep breath. “I was steeling myself to break things off with you. The articles about my past really shook me up.” Still, Jack said nothing, but he stepped into the room.
“Silvia thought it would be better to do this in person,” Gwen continued.
At this, Jack turned and shut the door, then he faced Gwen, his gaze hard, defensive. “So you’re breaking up with me?”
Gwen placed her hands on the back of a nearby chair to steady herself. “No,” she said. “I came to apologize, and… to tell you that I’m ready to face whatever the media wants to say about me.”
His face softened, and he walked around to her side of the conference table. “It wasn’t your fault— not the articles, not your past.”
Tears threatened, and she looked down. “I know, but it’s still hard to accept. And it’s hard to embrace the good things sometimes. It’s like… you’re too good to be true.”
“Gwen,” Jack whispered.
She looked up, even though she knew her eyes had filled with tears. Jack’s gaze was tender, warming her entire body.
He cradled her face. “Believe in the good. I’m here, you’re here. We have to believe in each other. That’s all that matters.” His lowered his head, then hesitated.
When she tilted her face upward, he kissed her, softly at first, then deeper. His hands slid down her back and pulled her closer until she was completely breathless. When he drew away, he rested his forehead on hers. “So you’re not breaking up with me?”
“Not if you can handle the heat.”
He smiled and brushed another kiss on her lips. “I think I can handle the heat.”
Gwen sighed and leaned into him, letting his arms hold her up and surround her with comfort. Jack was real. This was real. And she’d let herself finally believe.
Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest is Finding Sheba. Under Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction. She’s one of the coauthors of The Newport Ladies Book Club series. Other works include Heart of the Ocean, The Fortune Café, the Aliso Creek series, and the Amazon bestselling Timeless Romance Anthology series.
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Chapter One
Of course Brig Bryson couldn’t have a normal office in a building. Not even one of those break-apart wooden stands at the entrance to the pier. Why Claire thought her dad might be normal for once was beyond her. The man who used to make mini-parachutes for her dolls then help her launch them off the roof of their house, or who insisted on giving her a standing ovation at every single choir event of her life— despite her begging that he stop— would not do something as expected as having a regular storefront.
No, he had to locate the main office of Double B’s Deep Sea in a boa
t at the end of the dock.
Claire glanced down at her impractical, but gorgeous shoes. Four-inch peep-toe heels had seemed like a good idea when she’d thought about making a dramatic entrance, demanding he put this midlife crisis business behind him, and move back to Colorado so he could be involved in her life again. But now, standing at the edge of an uneven surface, she questioned more than just her choice in footwear.
She rarely made impulsive decisions like leaving work without notice or taking a spontaneous trip, but she’d been desperate. Then Jade, her older sister, told her that their dad had broken his arm on one of his excursions, and Claire knew it was time for this dream of his to sink.
Besides, no one but Dad had ever been able to stand up to Mom, and Claire was drowning in her mother’s expectations. Rather, one expectation, namely Everett Pickford. Claire shuddered and pushed thoughts of her mom’s latest over-achieving protégé to the farthest corner of her mind.
First to talk some sense into Dad. Then deal with Mom’s arranged-marriage style of matchmaking.
The sun was setting over the Pacific, caught in a perfect moment of amethyst reflection over the water. People lounged in groups along the beach, while the locals cleaned their boats after the day’s excursions. Independence Day was tomorrow, when Jade said tourism here exploded. Not the best time for a panicked, last-minute trip to San Diego, but when Everett pulled out a two-carat ring— emerald cut with Mom’s signature pearls flanking the sides— Claire fled.
She inhaled the briny ocean air and stepped onto the dock. Her heels wobbled, one heel caught momentarily in the crack of a warped board, but Claire was a pro at navigating harsh terrain. Anything to add a few inches to her height.
Her bag clicked behind her on the slats with the gentle roll and hiss of the ocean. The dock was empty, except for Dad’s boat at the end. Double B was stamped at one end of it in navy print against the white hull of the double-decker yacht lined with benches.
A man stood on its deck, elbow deep in something slimy looking. She crinkled her nose when the smell hit her. Fish. With the fading sunlight silhouetting him from behind, she couldn’t make out the man’s features, but wild hair framed his face, and tattoos lined his bare biceps and forearms. Everything about him screamed, Don’t mess with me.