Storming His Heart

by Marie Harte

  “Thanks for sharing.” She wanted to tell him something personal but didn’t know what to say.

  They watched each other in an awkward silence, and Storm wondered if he knew what he’d just admitted. Rafe was lonely, with only his work for company. The man needed her, no two ways about it. Just as much as she needed him. Worried he might see the caring in her eyes, she glanced down at their hands and tried to ignore her racing pulse.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Me?”

  “What’s your family like?”

  Storm thought about it. “Thorne’s a telepath, and he’s always trying to tell me what to do, verbally and otherwise,” she said dryly. “Luc’s like you. He has visions, but they’re rarely clear and he hates them. He’s the only one in the family who doesn’t like being psychic. I love it.”

  “I can see that, control freak.”

  She grinned. “Takes one to know one. Except for ruining my social life, being able to manage people makes me feel safer. I don’t worry that I’m going to get mugged if I walk down the wrong street late at night—not that I’d go into the seedy side of town in the dark. But I can pretty much take care of myself, and my family knows it.”

  “Have them wrapped around your little finger, hmm?”

  “I wish.” She liked holding hands with him, especially since he didn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon. “When I was little, for a few short months, I made my brothers do everything for me. Then my parents figured out what I was up to and put a stop to it. There are very few people immune to my ability.”

  “Lucky me,” he said in a thick voice. His thumb grazed her hand, a soft caress she felt to her bones. There was nothing sensual about it, just a comforting trust that he was there.

  “What about you? When did you have your first vision?”

  “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”

  “Come on, tell me.”

  “Fine, but only because you’re cute when you beg. I think I was ten. I’d seen myself riding down the street on a red bike I’d been wanting but didn’t own, riding next to my friend who I hadn’t seen in over a year. The next day I received the bike and a surprise visit from my best friend who’d moved away for my birthday.

  “I told my folks about it, but they weren’t surprised. Apparently they’d been expecting something like that to happen. My dad said every generation on his side possessed some form of clairvoyance. His wasn’t very strong. For him it came in odd phases. But seeing the future isn’t as reliable as you might think. After all, I couldn’t see what happened to my parents. And I’m never sure if acting on the visions changes my future into what it could be or what it should be.”

  “I guess your gift really makes you wonder about destiny and fate, huh?”

  Rafe studied her intently. “I don’t believe in destiny. I believe we’re in command of our own lives.”

  “I have to agree that we’re in charge of our own destinies. I mean, you hear about stuff meant to be, soul mates and all that nonsense. But I’m not so sure I believe in that.” I believe in you, Rafe. You’re mine, but that’s something you’re not ready to hear yet.

  He frowned. “Why not? I saw those books you read. You must like the thought of happily ever after.”

  Damn. Busted. She forced a smile. “But all that’s fiction. Heck, if it weren’t for my curse when it comes to dating, I might have married already and had kids. Most of the men I’ve gone out with would have made good husbands.”

  He didn’t seem to like that. “Most of them, eh? What about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “Am I husband material?”

  She pretended to consider him. “Well, you’re hell on wheels in the sack, no doubt.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How long has it been since your last girlfriend? You said you dated.”

  “Dated, sure. But someone I’d call a girlfriend? Ah, a year or two.”

  “Is it one year or two?”

  He frowned. “Three.”

  “Three? Wow. I’m thinking commitment issues. You’re what, thirty-five?” She knew darned well how old he was.

  “Thirty-three,” he muttered.

  “A girlfriend, but no fiancée in your past? Then you—”

  “I was engaged.”

  She stopped midsentence. “You were?”

  “It didn’t work out.” Sensing she was losing him to a mood again when they’d just started to really connect, she tried to tease him out of it.

  “Or did it?” She sniffed his neck, startling him. “Will I find perfume on you? That’s your secret, isn’t it?”

  “Secret?”

  “No man is this neat. You have a secret wife hidden around here, right?”

  He chuckled and she blew out a breath, relieved he wasn’t mad at her for prying.

  “It’s easy to believe you’re married.” She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “All your leftovers are labeled and stacked neatly. I know you’re not gay, so it’s got to be a wife.”

  “You’re a very strange woman. Beautiful and sexy, but strange, you know that?”

  She’d been called worse. “How about in there?” She nodded in the direction of his office, the one room she hadn’t accessed thanks to it being constantly locked or occupied. “Is the Missus hiding in the office under lock and key? It’s either that or you have bodies stashed inside.”

  He huffed. “You’re a friggin’ comedian.”

  “Oh, come on, Rafe. You can’t really think I’m here to steal trade secrets? If it were up to me, I’d book it back home in a heartbeat.”

  He scowled. “Is that right?”

  “But my uncle and your boss ordered us here, so here we are. Have a little fun.”

  “I was having a lot of fun just a few minutes ago. You remember, when you rode me on the couch? When that hot pussy hugged me tight?”

  She blushed. “You like making my face red, don’t you?”

  “I do.” He stared at her for a moment and seemed to come to a decision. “Wait for me here. Please.”

  She sighed but did as asked.

  Rafe returned to the kitchen carrying a stack of files. “With all this talk, and the way you interrogated my past out of me—”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “I’m thinking you have a knack for finding information. Let’s see what you can make of this.” He handed her a folder and sat the rest of the paperwork on the table.

  She opened it and rifled through several pages. But when she came to a specific photograph of Rafe and the man who’d once made her life a living hell, she froze.

  “What’s wrong?” Rafe asked, aware the atmosphere had suddenly changed from teasing to angry. He still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten him to talk about his family, but he much preferred her gentle inquisition to the tension now radiating off her frame.

  “Is this bastard a friend of yours?”

  “No,” he said softly and glanced at the picture. “That’s Richard Glass, the man I shot and killed a year ago. Nightmares of that shooting bother me to this day.”

  “Last fall a man approached me looking for information. He said his name was Jonathan Dasher. That’s his picture.” She tapped the photo of Glass. “He told me he was an employee of Westlake Enterprises and that he needed information. It had something to do with an investigation of my uncle’s at the time.”

  Rafe eyes narrowed. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing. I wasn’t about to cooperate with Westlake Enterprises—no offense. So I told him to take a hike. Unfortunately, he started hassling me. He was a lot less than professional.”

  Rafe’s temper flared. “Did he make a move on you?”

  She grimaced, all the answer he needed, and focused on the picture. “I began to wonder if the demand for info was just a ruse. The worst part about Jonathan was that he started dogging me everywhere. Then the local police jumped on my case. A busted tail light, running stop signs I
hadn’t run. Jonathan started calling me all the time. It got pretty ugly.”

  “I can imagine. You have to know he wasn’t working under Westlake’s orders. We don’t work that way.”

  “I know that now.”

  Rafe had to ask. “Did he ever hurt you?” He hung on her answer, infuriated on her behalf.

  “No. Luckily, it didn’t get that far. I’d persuaded him to leave me alone several times, but my suggestions seemed to wear off quickly. Honestly, I don’t think he was too rational most of the time. My talent has a problem with splintered minds.”

  Rafe smiled at the pointed look she threw him. “There’s nothing wrong with my mind, Storm. I don’t take to any kind of persuasion. Even Jurek can’t affect me.”

  “I knew Jurek Westlake had more than charisma going for him. Luc owes me money on that one.”

  “Focus, Storm.”

  She frowned. “Why is everyone always telling me to focus? Okay, okay. Jonathan, your Richard Glass, pretty much soured me on you Westlake types.” She looked down at the photo. “He really scared me. He threatened me, my family, my friends. He used to promise me I’d regret it if I didn’t go out with him, and he’d get a crazy look in his eyes. Then he suddenly stopped coming around. He disappeared entirely.”

  Rafe shared what he knew with her. “Jurek suspected for some time that we had a leak. Information on important cases would get to the wrong people at the worst possible times. Jurek had pulled me aside and set me on the task of uncovering our traitor. It took me a few months to piece together the puzzle. Richard Glass was damned good at covering his tracks.”

  Storm’s eyes brightened with interest. “How did you find out Glass had turned? And why did he?”

  “Richard had been selling information on his own people for the money and for the challenge, I think. He saw himself as better than the rest of us. His intuitive nature allowed him to stay one step ahead of trouble. He had an innate ability to detect harm or deceit aimed his way, and he could shield himself from psychic detection, making him impossible to read. Let me tell you, it made it more than difficult to catch him doing anything. I finally nailed him at the end of the Guest investigation. I was almost too late. Raymond Guest used the information Richard sold him to try to kill one of our agents, as well as your cousin.”

  “Oh man. Glass was the reason my cousin Alex almost died on that joint investigation? What a creep. But you got him. That’s what counts.”

  “Maybe.” Talk about Glass stirred his instincts. He felt so close to the answer to their current problems. A step or two away. What had he missed?

  “There’s no maybe about it. He was a bad guy.” Her eyes widened. “And someone we both had in common.”

  “If I hadn’t already investigated him as a possible lead, I’d be with you on that. But nothing has panned out. I know for a fact he’s dead.” His voice hardened at the memory. “I watched him bleed out from the bullet I shot into his body. We’re looking again at any associates of his we may have missed before, but everyone looks clean.”

  “Good idea. I hate to say it, but I feel nothing but relief he’s gone. I had nothing personal against Westlake until Richard Glass started harassing me.”

  Rafe closed the distance between them. “And now, Storm? How do you feel about Westlake now?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I’m withholding judgment. I thought I’d give you a chance to make me see the light first.”

  “Oh, I’ll make you see the light all right.”

  She laughed. “See? Being forced to spend time with me isn’t so bad.” She bit her lower lip, and he had a hard time looking away from her mouth.

  “Stop distracting me, baby. I think you might be a real help going over this information with me. Let’s…what?” he asked, bemused by the strange smile on her face.

  She blushed and tried to pull away. “Nothing.”

  “No, what? Tell me.” He tugged her chin to see her expression.

  “I like it when you call me baby.” She frowned over her embarrassment. “Now let’s get back to work.”

  He hadn’t thought about it—it had just slipped out. But he was glad she liked the endearment. Strong, independent Storm Buchanan liked being called baby. Every time he learned one thing about her, she bowled him over by teaching him something else, something completely contradictory to what he’d expected.

  “Baby, you are one in a million.” He grinned, liking her more and more.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told you that. Now quit making fun of me and pay attention. It says here…”

  Richard gave a final grunt of satisfaction and rolled off her. He gazed at the woman beside him with thinly veiled disgust. The pleasure she afforded ran a far second to the information she gathered from Westlake Enterprises. It was for that reason that he kept her around, pretending affection. She didn’t notice, glorying in the afterglow of sexual gratification. He grudgingly admitted that most men would find her dark hair and bright green eyes attractive. Her petite yet lush body was a pleasant surprise.

  “Richard, honey, you were magnificent.”

  He couldn’t handle being near her anymore. He’d sated his own desire and at the same time smoothed the connection between them. But his tastes in women were much like his brother’s. He preferred his women taller, stronger. Dark-haired yes, but he hungered for light eyes, for gray eyes. And he hated himself for it.

  “We need to get you back. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with work because of me,” he said in a cool voice.

  She sat up with a petulant expression. “They won’t miss me for another hour at least. Come on, spend a bit more time with me.”

  He pasted a smile on his face and moved back next to her. “Only for you, sweet. Fill me in on your assignment. My own undercover work keeps me so busy, I’m out of the loop at the office. With the rumor of me being dead, I can’t exactly show myself. But once I catch our traitor, I’ll be back at work, and you and I can finally date out in the open. So tell me, what have I missed?”

  Jennifer’s position as a logistics coordinator for the company guaranteed that she dealt with vital information every day. She knew who was under protection, who needed what supplies, and who took a trip at Westlake’s expense.

  “Well, I’m sure you know that Rafe Savage has been missing for a week now. He’s on a new assignment with that woman from Buchanan Investigations. I can’t believe someone with Rafe’s expertise can’t see that she’s probably the traitor. I left the information for Lewis, like you asked. I just hope that Buchanan bitch doesn’t do anything to hurt one of the company’s top agents.”

  He doubted she realized how jealous she sounded. Jennifer had lusted after Savage since she’d joined Westlake a little over four years ago. But the narrow-minded agent hadn’t once returned the sentiment. No matter what Richard Glass did, he’d never take Savage’s place in Jennifer’s estimation. For that reason, Savage and he had to appear on the same side.

  “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure Rafe is just stringing her along to get what he needs.” The way I’m handling you. Thoughts of need and Storm Buchanan tangled in his mind. He could see her rising out of the pool at that club, her wet red bathing suit clinging to her curves like a second skin. He’d taken the photo himself, keeping careful track of all of his enemies. Soon he would have her begging for his forgiveness with the others.

  Jennifer’s hands reached down and closed around his erection. Thoughts of Storm never failed to both anger and arouse him.

  “Oh, Richard,” Jennifer gasped, grinning with delight. “I knew once wouldn’t be enough for you.” She moved down his body and took him in her mouth. He tightened his hands in her hair, blotting out her image and replacing it with that of Storm. Soon he would have the real thing. The bitch owed him a debt of pain and servitude for her earlier rejection.

  He came on a silent cry, and it was Storm’s name his lips formed while Jennifer swallowed.

  Chapter Ten


  Two days later, when Jurek, J.D. and Storm’s brothers arrived at his house for a meeting, Rafe half hoped they had little news. To his surprise, he discovered he liked having Storm all to himself. She was funny, smart and made him feel good in and out of the bedroom.

  But he worried. The woman he’d expected to cling seemed perfectly happy to share his body and some laughs, but nothing more.

  Her dismissal annoyed him. How could she not realize how in tune they were with each other? That despite their differences, they operated on the same wavelength? From what he knew of her immediate family, the Buchanans valued loyalty and integrity as highly as he did. They had so much in common, but Storm couldn’t wait to get back to her life and family, away from him. He should have been relieved by her casual regard. He wasn’t.

  “Hey guys, nice to see you again,” she said with a smile as her obnoxious brothers looked her over.

  “Rafe, how’s it going?” Jurek asked, surprisingly casual in jeans and a thin sweater. His attire made him look years younger. Rafe hadn’t missed the startled look Storm had given his boss. He didn’t like it, or the way she’d responded to J.D.’s overly appreciative greeting. If the ladies’ man touched her again, Rafe swore he’d rip his lungs out.

  He ignored J.D.’s knowing grin and made small talk with Jurek.

  Max soon arrived wearing a suit and tie.

  “Whoa! Uncle Max, what’s with the suit?” Luc asked.

  “He looks very nice,” Storm said with a frown at her brother. Then she smiled at her uncle. “Very handsome.”

  Max flushed. “Thank you. Now if we could all get on with this meeting—”

  Jurek grinned. “Hot date tonight?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Hmm. Not with that beautiful woman who works right outside your office?”

  Max glared. “What the hell business is it of yours?”

  “Just curious. Funny, but I was thinking of calling her myself.”

  “You do and I’ll turn your puling mind into pudding.”

  “Ooh, nice one.” Luc grinned and rocked on his heels.