Heartbreakers and Heroes

by Box Set

  And she hurried out of the coffee shop, leaving gorgeous Travis Power Suit right where he belonged. In her past.

  Chapter 2

  Travis Jackson was stunned.

  That hadn't happened in...damn if he could remember the last time.

  His responsibilities as CEO of the sporting goods company his grandfather had founded, Mel's Outdoor Adventures, demanded that his life be rigidly structured. He lived for structure and control. He didn't like surprises. Or emotions.

  But the woman who'd just run away like her ill-fitting skirt was on fire fascinated him. Dangerous territory for someone like Travis. He understood what happened when he let down his guard. Messes like Monica making a scene happened.

  Travis definitely didn't like scenes. He'd been not so patiently waiting for the moment he could extricate himself from the one with Monica when...damn it, he didn't even know her name. The curvy, emotional, unpredictable, way-too-talkative whirling dervish of a woman who thought he needed a hug.

  One particular part of his body wanted a hug from her, that was for damn sure.

  And she was getting away.

  Without considering the reasons or the consequences, Travis straightened from his chair, threw a few bills on the table and headed out into the bright St. Paul sunshine. He was a Minnesota native, and summer was his favorite time of year. The days were long and dappled with the light. The warmth felt like some kind of reward for surviving the harsh winter.

  He glanced up and down the sidewalk, worried he'd wasted too much time dithering and she was already gone. Then a vivid splotch of pink caught his eye. Of course the woman wore a shirt that was the exact color of the cotton candy he'd begged his mother for every year at the state fair. So sweet it made his teeth ache.

  He didn't even know her name, but she was walking into a building across the street.

  His building.

  The strange, unsettled feeling inside him intensified. He felt like the spider that lost his fly. He'd been working more hours than usual lately, and his normal schedule was enough to bring a fleet of endurance athletes to their knees. A diversion would be good, even though a warning whistled through him that the woman with hair like thick, warm caramel and the cotton-candy shirt might make more than his teeth ache.

  A hug. Travis Jackson needed a hug like he needed another speed bump in the company's current business plan. Like he needed a hole in his head. The suggestion was so absurd to be laughable, but he hadn't felt much like chuckling when she'd looked at him with those wide hazel eyes filled with tenderness and understanding about things even he didn't understand. There was no chance some strange woman in a coffee shop could have a window into his soul, because he didn't have one. That must account for his fascination.

  It was difficult to say why, but he wasn't ready to let her go. If she had business at Mel's, he could track her. When he found her, he'd find a way to have her, and then he could excise this feeling--like pulling out an annoying splinter. One tug and she'd be history.

  And he could get on with life as he knew it.

  ***

  "What brought you to Minnesota, Hailey?"

  I was fool enough to believe a lying, cheating, no-good man when he told me I was special.

  Better not to lead with that explanation.

  "I wanted a change," she answered instead. "I loved growing up in Montana but I was ready to try out city life. Working at my family's store was fine, but there isn't a lot of room for growth there. I'm looking for new responsibilities and a chance to prove myself."

  As opposed to the diamond ring she'd thought she wanted.

  They'd made it through twenty minutes of interview questions and Hailey thought she'd bluffed pretty well, given that she had a total of zero experience working in a corporate office.

  Clara Jackson studied her from across the desk in the converted warehouse that was the headquarters of Mel's Outdoor Adventures. Hailey's grandfather had been friends with Mel Jackson back in the day, and her family's store, Big Sky Outfitters, had been one of the first to carry the fishing, boating and hunting gear that had eventually made Mel's catalogs famous.

  Big Sky was still one of Mel's largest distributors, thanks to its location in the sportsman's paradise that was the valley west of Bozeman, Montana. She'd heard rumblings that things at Mel's corporate headquarters were being shaken up now that his grandson was running the business, but she was only focused on today and this interview.

  Clara was the director of operations and personnel for the company, and she needed a new assistant. Hailey's grandmother, Minnie, had remained close with Clara's grandmother, Meg, and if Hailey was embarrassed that she'd gotten this interview because of two scheming old women, she'd put that aside for now.

  On her personal hierarchy of needs, food trumped pride any day of the week.

  Clara didn't look like part of a company that built its business selling fishing lures and hunting gear. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore the most gorgeous silk dress with designer heels Hailey had ever seen. All of that perfection was offset by the tiny, raggedy-looking dog snoring away in a plush bed on the corner of her desk. It was hard to imagine Clara as a pet person, although her pet didn't exactly look like a dog. The animal she'd called Kiwi was more a combination between a feather duster and the fruit after which it was named.

  "She's a Yorkipoo," Clara said with obvious pride, following Hailey's gaze as it strayed once more to the dog. "She has a slight case of alopecia, which is why her fur isn't...well, very furry."

  "She's cute," Hailey said, because she had enough cousins with funny-looking babies to understand that was the correct response.

  Clara smiled. "She's my precious baby."

  The precious baby yawned and licked Clara's fingers as she reached out to pet her. Then the dog turned her beady black eyes on Hailey and growled low in her throat. A fairly impressive growl for a dog the size of sack of flour.

  "She's also partially deaf," Clara explained, scooping the dog into her arms, "so sometimes she doesn't do well with strangers. Sometimes she bites, but she's never broken skin."

  Hailey gave a small nod, like this was a normal conversation. "Good to know."

  The dog growled and barked, wriggling out of Clara's embrace to hurtle herself across the desk toward Hailey.

  "Kiwi, no." Clara jumped up as Hailey caught the little bundle of scruff in her arms.

  Hailey prepared herself for the cut of sharp teeth. This morning would be better with some caffeine and sugar in her system. But the dog only lifted her front paws onto Hailey's shirt, sniffed at her neck--thankfully choosing not to bite down on her carotid artery--and then sank onto her lap and curled into a ball.

  "I think that leap across the desk wore her out," Hailey whispered.

  Clara sat back down with a relieved sigh. "She likes you. She hardly likes anyone."

  "I'm likable," Hailey agreed, "and a hard worker."

  Clara leaned forward. "Do you pet-sit?"

  Hailey didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do."

  "Can I ask you a question that I definitely shouldn't be asking?"

  "Um...okay."

  "The bruise on your cheek..."

  "Oh, right." Hailey lifted her fingers to her face, wincing a little. "I...it's an odd story."

  "Do you need help?" Clara asked, her chocolate-brown gaze as gentle as her tone.

  Hailey gave a little laugh. "Don't we all?"

  When the other woman's eyes widened, she quickly added, "Not like that. I'm not...I need this job, but no one hit me."

  Clara arched an eyebrow.

  "I mean, someone hit me. Not a man. A woman."

  "I see." Clara didn't do a very good job of hiding her shock.

  "I don't think you do," Hailey continued. "A woman hit me because of a man. She thought I was...I wasn't doing what she thought. I barely even knew the guy, and he wasn't very nice. Except there was something about him, and..." She stopped, pulled in a breath
then cringed at the look on Clara's face. "I should probably stop talking now," she muttered. "Or five minutes ago."

  Clara nodded. "You might need some time to get things worked out in your personal life before starting a new position."

  "I don't," Hailey blurted. "And I don't have a personal life."

  "Except the catfight over a man?"

  "It wasn't like that," Hailey insisted. Kiwi stood and stretched in her lap, maybe picking up on the panic running through her. She needed a job. "I tried to help. I wanted to--"

  "She rescued me."

  Clara's gaze darted to the door of the office, and Hailey whirled in her chair to see Travis Power Suit filling up the doorframe with his big shoulders and lean hips. What the...?

  Kiwi jumped off her lap and bounded for the door, barking like one of the hounds of hell. The little dog attacked the toe of Travis's leather loafer with a fervor that would have made her wolf ancestors proud.

  "Seriously, Clara," Travis said, bending to scoop up the tiny canine. "Can this beast be trained? I don't have a pair of shoes without tiny teeth marks in them."

  He stepped toward the desk, the dog tucked in the crook of his arm. Kiwi continued to growl but allowed herself to be held.

  "Stop buying Italian leather," Clara told him. "She's developed a taste for it." She stood and reached for the dog. "What's this about Hailey rescuing you?"

  Both of them turned to her. She felt her mouth drop open. How had she not seen the resemblance? Standing next to each other, gorgeous with their dark hair and eyes and olive-toned skin, these two were clearly related.

  Her stranger from this morning wasn't Travis Power Suit. He was Travis Jackson, CEO of Mel's Outdoor Adventures, and Clara's brother.

  "A woman was yelling at him," she said, sounding dazed even to her own ears.

  Clara snorted. "What's new?"

  "I ended things with Monica," Travis said coolly. "She didn't take it well. Hailey came to my rescue."

  Clara slid a look toward Hailey. "You took on one of Travis's bimbo brigade?"

  "Rude," he said under his breath.

  "Truth." Clara nudged him with her elbow. He didn't budge. Hailey couldn't imagine anything that would make this man move if he wasn't so inclined.

  She touched her cheek. "Monica didn't appreciate my interference either."

  "I can imagine." Clara moved behind the desk and gently dropped Kiwi onto her bed. The little dog sniffed then began to delicately lick her nether regions.

  "Disgusting animal," Travis said, this time not under his breath.

  "Ignore him, Kiwi," Clara told the dog. "If he could reach it himself, he wouldn't need the cavalcade of bimbos."

  Hailey pressed her hands together in her lap. "Should we talk more about the assistant job?" She might not be an expert on corporate America, but this had to put her in the running for a Guinness World Record for weirdest interview.

  Travis held up a hand before Clara could speak. "You're not qualified," he said, using a finger to move her one-page résumé to the edge of the desk. He looked at it for about a half-second before flicking at the paper.

  "I'm plenty qualified. I'm organized and a hard worker." She ticked off her qualifications on her fingers. "Plus Kiwi likes me."

  "Kiwi also likes sniffing poop. She's not a great judge of character."

  Hailey snorted. "And you are? Give me a break. I met Monica." She jabbed a finger at her own cheek. "Remember."

  "How could I forget?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "You have no experience and you're belligerent."

  "You're a meanie."

  Clara let out a loud hoot of laughter, drawing both their attention. Color rose to Hailey's cheeks. She'd just called the CEO of a world-class outdoor recreation company--a company where she desperately wanted to work--a meanie.

  She took a breath and met Clara's amused gaze. "My mother always warned me my mouth would get me in trouble."

  "No doubt," Travis whispered through clenched teeth.

  Clara grinned. "You're hired."

  Chapter 3

  "This is a colossal mistake." Travis paced to the edge of the living space in his younger sister's loft later that afternoon.

  "Stop worrying," Clara told him, not looking up from where she was bent forward over the kitchen island, scribbling Kiwi-care instructions on a notepad. "She'll be brilliant."

  "She has no experience, no references and..." He blew out a breath. "Christ, she doesn't even have a permanent address."

  "Which is perfect, since I'll be traveling on your little mission of death for at least ten days. Kiwi hates the kennel."

  "Does it bother you that she's been living at a seedy motel off the interstate?" It bugged the hell out of Travis. He'd almost gone ballistic when Hailey mentioned the name of the shithole where she'd been staying since her "relationship ended," as she'd phrased it. He ran his hands through his hair as anger surged through him once again. What kind of man would kick to the curb a woman with no options?

  "It makes me think she's more resilient than she looks."

  "She's about as resilient as a newborn baby."

  He hated his awareness of Hailey Moore. His body practically sparked when he was near her, but it was more than that. Following her this morning had been a mistake. As he'd stood outside his sister's office, waving off his secretary more than once and ignoring both an important investor meeting and at least a half-dozen phone calls, he'd been ridiculously charmed by the sound of her voice.

  By the answers she gave to Clara during the interview. By watching her damn chest rise and fall as she breathed. He was fucking charmed by the way the woman breathed.

  It was madness.

  But allowing Hailey to stay in Clara's apartment while his sister travelled on company business was suicide. Travis's own loft was just across the hall. Ten days of practically living under the same roof. He might have only met her this morning, but he had no doubt Hailey Moore was all kinds of trouble.

  "You won't even notice she's around," Clara told him matter-of-factly.

  "Right." He turned to argue then caught the faint glint of triumph in her brown eyes. He and Clara, as well as their brother Chase, had inherited their mother's Italian coloring. Their father had lighter hair with green eyes, and it never ceased to get under Dominic Jackson's skin that none of his children resembled his side of the family.

  Travis was surprised his father hadn't found a way to control their genetics along with every other aspect of he and his siblings' lives. Clara's and his, anyway. Chase had managed to get out from under their father's thumb, but only by disappearing for the better part of the past decade.

  "She isn't your type, Travis." Clara placed her pen on top of the notepad and walked to the edge of the island.

  "Obviously," he agreed. Except his body hadn't gotten the memo. His stupid chest squeezed each time he met Hailey's innocent hazel eyes, like it was caught in some unfamiliar vise. His hands ached from the way he'd been clenching them into fists in an attempt to resist reaching for her.

  He wanted so badly to touch her.

  Definitely a colossal mistake.

  "She's a nice girl."

  "I know."

  "Her grandfather was friends with Grandpa."

  He gritted his teeth. "I heard."

  "Her family runs Big Sky Outfitters."

  "I read her damned résumé, Clara. What's your point?"

  Clara's hands went to her hips. "I'm about to travel to five small towns to lay the groundwork for pulling Mel's gear from their local sporting goods stores. I have to somehow deliver the news that the merchandise that likely keeps their business in the black will be taken from them. Hailey Moore's family will be devastated when the contracts aren't renewed. I want to do this one small thing. She needs a chance, and I'm going to give it to her. Don't mess it up."

  "It's business."

  "It sucks, Travis. I hate being your evil henchwoman. You were supposed to be different than Dad when you got your chance to run th
e company, but you're even worse. You have no heart."

  "There isn't room for heart in business. I'm not going soft just to keep a bunch of local stores running. That's not my job."

  An image of John Stone, the one man who'd expected something more of Travis in life, popped into his mind. He'd only spent a single summer at Saddle Creek Ranch in Montana, but it had left an indelible impression on him. He couldn't seem to completely turn away from it, no matter how many years had passed. Stone and his damned rules, the ones that he insisted every boy in his care memorize, were written across Travis's heart.

  A real man doesn't build himself up by bringing others down.

  That was the rule that had stuck with Travis. At the time, it had reminded him of his father, who readily took down anyone who stood in the way of what he wanted for himself or the company. Travis hated to admit that it might apply to his own actions.

  Now he'd gotten word from Ryder Bennett, one of his buddies from his summer at the ranch, that John Stone was in a coma after a massive heart attack. The doctors weren't sure whether he'd come out of it. So even if he wanted to, Travis couldn't ask his long-ago mentor what was the right thing to do. Of course, he already knew what Stone would tell him. Travis was simply ignoring the truth.

  "Dad did a number on you," Clara said gently. "He's messed with all of our heads, but yours especially."

  "This is me, Clara. Not Dad. If you don't like it, quit. Run away like Chase did." He turned to the big plate-glass window so he wouldn't have to see her reaction to his words. It would kill him if Clara left the company, but he had to give her the out. He knew who he was and no one deserved to be dragged down to his level. He put his hand on the glass warmed by the summer sun to ground himself. To remind him that he could still feel...something. "I'll manage on my own."

  "I'm not leaving," she said a moment later, and placed her hand next to his against the glass. "Who else is going to keep you human?"

  "Thank you." He placed a hand on her arm as he pushed air out of his lungs in a measured breath. He didn't bother to pretend that her staying didn't mean something to him. They stood for several moments and he watched a small, shabby hatchback turn onto the block. There was one fairly large parking space on the far side of street, and he felt a smile curve one side of his mouth as the car's driver tried and failed, several times, to maneuver into the space. Even without the Montana plates, Travis would have known exactly who was behind the wheel.