by J. S. Scott
“That’s probably why she never told them,” Tate mused philosophically. “She’s a grown adult, man. She can do whatever she wants.”
“Not this,” Jason replied angrily. “She can’t be traipsing around the world, throwing herself into danger.” Every hair on his body stood up in alarm as he viewed some pictures of what was a hurricane, typhoon, or cyclone. It was hard to tell where the photos had been taken. All Jason knew was that Hope had to have been sheltering there during the damn storm. She had captured the shot just as a roof was torn from a building, the picture horrifying evidence of the violence of the tempest she’d thrown herself into.
“Of course she can go. She’s a grown woman,” Tate argued reasonably.
Jason wasn’t feeling reasonable. “She’s mine now,” he snapped back at Tate.
“She wasn’t yours when she took the pictures, and you snatched her out of Vegas, not knowing who she really is now. You’ve seen her what—a handful of times as an adult? You can’t expect her to stop her life because she got drunk and followed you here willingly just because she was three sheets to the wind.”
Selfishly, that was exactly what Jason wanted. He’d taken her with the intention of sating himself with her, before eventually letting her go. Already angry and hurt that she hadn’t told him that she was getting married, all he’d wanted was Hope in his bed, and to prevent her from marrying an asshole. Now he wasn’t so sure he was going to let her out of his sight ever again. Not that he wasn’t still pissed off at her, but his protective instincts overrode his anger. Jesus, did she have some sort of death wish to be chasing these kind of storms?
You don’t know me anymore.
Hope had told him that when they’d been together in Amesport. Turns out…she was right. “She has an entire secret life that nobody knows about,” Jason speculated aloud, pissed off and troubled. Where in the hell was the shy girl he had known, the quiet, sweet young woman he’d seen right before she left for college? Every time he’d seen her after that fateful day, she’d been quiet and subdued, doing nothing to indicate that she’d…changed.
“We all have our secrets,” Tate said solemnly. “She’s accomplished a lot for a woman her age. She sells a lot of her photos to major publications, and she’s already highly respected in her field.”
“It’s fucking dangerous,” Jason replied irritably. “How would you feel if you cared about someone who rushed into dangerous situations all the time? What if it was your sister, Chloe?”
Tate frowned. “I’d lock her up and throw away the key.”
Jason raised his eyebrows, giving Tate an I-told-you-so stare.
“She’s my little sister,” Tate continued defensively.
“Exactly. Someone you care about, someone you want to protect.”
“She’s related,” Tate grumbled. “I’ve never felt that way about any woman. I couldn’t. I did some crazy shit. On any given mission, there was always a very good chance that when I left, I wouldn’t be coming back.”
Jason watched Tate’s face, the brief, haunted look that flashed in his eyes. He wasn’t Special Forces anymore, but some things Tate had done during his military days obviously still preyed on his mind. “You’re loaded, Colter. You have a good family. Why did you do it?” Jason wondered why someone with Tate’s privileged background would join Special Forces. In fact, Tate was the only billionaire he knew who had even enlisted in the military when they had billions of dollars in the bank.
Tate shrugged. “Because I could. I’m a damn good pilot, and I thrived on the adrenaline for a long time. We did some good things, saved some lives. It was worth it.”
Tate could be an annoyingly arrogant son of a bitch, but Jason respected him. No doubt he had saved lives. “You’re not in Special Forces anymore. What’s the excuse for not having a woman now?”
“What was yours?” Tate shot back at Jason.
“I was obsessed with Hope,” Jason admitted readily. His fixation with Hope had always been in the back of his mind every time he was with a woman. Hopefully, he could fuck that fascination away now that he had her. They’d probably be sick of each other after a day or two together.
Tate squirmed. “Yeah. Well, I guess I just haven’t found a woman worth obsessing over. Thank God,” he mumbled in a low, fervent voice.
Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” His mind was blurry from lack of sleep, and his head spun from finding out so much about Hope that he hadn’t known. Maybe finding everything out now was a good thing. Maybe the fact that she was obviously a compulsive liar and not the sweet woman he thought he knew would cure him of his compulsion to fuck her, make her his. He sure as hell hoped it would. Unfortunately, even though he was pissed, his protective instincts were still present and even stronger now that he knew she ran into danger all the time. Regrettably, he also knew the Hope he had known was still there. He’d sampled her sweetness on their one night together over the holidays, and that taste of her had just left an agonizing desire for more.
I don’t know who she is now.
“Get some rest.” Tate got up from the recliner. “Do you need anything else?”
“I have to find a way to get Hope’s cat,” Jason answered with a grimace. “Hope was only planning to be gone for a few days. I don’t know if anyone is taking care of her cat.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Tate replied nonchalantly. “I’ll drop the cat off later. It’s a short helicopter ride.” He strode to the door and opened it.
“Tate?” Jason raised his voice so Tate could hear him across the room.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you want her address?”
Tate smirked. “I hacked her computer. I have it.”
“Keys to her condo?”
“I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t pick,” Tate told Jason arrogantly. “Later.” He closed the door behind him.
“Cocky bastard,” Jason grumbled as he went to the door Tate had just exited and locked it, although he was actually more angry with himself than he was at Tate. Colter had actually helped him reach an objective: stop Hope from marrying somebody else, a man who, most likely, cared nothing about her and had to have been sponging off Hope for years if he’d never gotten a job. His other reasons were connected to his main objective and were just as urgent, but purely selfish.
Jason tried to pacify his guilt by telling himself that Hope would end up happier in the long run, but that didn’t help him now. That damn, niggling voice inside his head was back, and he couldn’t seem to quite close the door on his emotions entirely. Granted, the voice wasn’t loud enough to stop him from doing what he needed to do, but it was annoying to have some regrets about basically kidnapping Hope, even if she had gone with him willingly, albeit completely intoxicated.
He sat back down with her computer, unable to stop himself from perusing every bit of data he could find. Tate had left the computer open, and seeking out information on Hope was just too big of a temptation. Desperate to piece together her life, he tried to fit all of the data together. Some of it made sense; much of it didn’t.
She had a lot of emails from a guy named David. Was this the mysterious fiancé? I don’t even know the guy’s name! Although, most of the emails exchanged were nothing more than meeting sites and travel plans. There was nothing romantic, and very little personal information exchanged. David was apparently in Oklahoma, from what Jason could surmise.
Curious, he Googled her H.L. Sinclair persona just like Tate had done, and came to the same conclusion as Tate: she was a very well-respected photographer who specialized in extreme weather photography. Hope even had a website, but there wasn’t a single picture of herself. Every photo was of violent storms or the aftermath.
Jesus. How does Hope cope with that kind of suffering and pain?
Hope was the kind of woman who would shelter a deaf cat because she couldn’t bear to see the animal suffer. How did she deal with human tragedy on this scale?
&
nbsp; In some of the photos, he saw the same man—a dark, tall, young guy, probably around Hope’s age. He was usually in the thick of these disasters, just like the woman who took the pictures.
“Her fiancé?” he asked himself in a disgusted voice. Hell, he didn’t even know the name of her intended, and that annoyed him. He should at least know the guy’s name, right?
Irritated, Jason dug out his cell phone and punched in Grady’s number.
“What’s the name of Hope’s fiancé?” Jason asked after Grady had said hello, without any of the usual bullshit they usually exchanged.
“She always just referred to him as James. I asked her his last name once and she said it was Smith,” Grady grumbled. “If you’re going to try to check him out, forget it. I already tried. Do you know how common that name is in Colorado? Without an occupation or any other identifying information, I can’t be certain exactly which James Smith is taking advantage of my little sister,” Grady admitted gruffly.
“Shit,” Jason snapped fractiously. “Do they live together? Is he in Aspen?”
“Don’t know. Hope always says it’s none of my business. She never wants to talk about him. The only thing she said when I talked to her was that they were working their problems out and that they were getting married. Then she told me she was going to Vegas for a few days with friends for a bachelorette party. Short of having her followed, I can’t get the damn information out of her. And believe me, I’ve thought about putting a tail on her. But if she ever found out, she’d be really hurt. She lives a quiet life in Aspen, and she’s never wanted to be in the media or bring attention to herself.” Grady sighed. “All of us have threatened to go there to meet the guy, but Hope promised she’d bring him to Amesport or we’d all meet somewhere before she marries him. She hasn’t even set a date yet, so I didn’t push her. She sounded wiped out the day she told me. Said she was tired.”
Jason came very close to outing himself, telling Grady exactly what he’d done, but he didn’t. If Grady knew he’d found his little sister in Vegas, and then got her so inebriated that she didn’t know what she was doing, he’d kick his ass. Jason wasn’t worried about paying for what he’d done. In fact, he expected it. He just didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag too soon. He needed time with Hope first. “I was thinking about checking him out after you told me she was marrying him. I’m worried about her marrying a guy nobody knows,” Jason admitted, worried more now than he ever had been before. Hope wasn’t living the quiet life in Aspen that Grady thought she was—not even close.
“I didn’t know you two really kept in touch,” Grady said thoughtfully.
“We don’t connect as often as I’d like,” Jason confessed. “Since your engagement party on New Year’s, we email each other, but I’ve always considered her a friend.” Jason nearly choked on the word friend. And “emailing” was a stretch. He sent a short sentence every week and she emailed back the same two words.
I’m fine.
“Damn nice of you to care enough to worry,” Grady said in a low, genuine voice.
Jason really started to suffocate from guilt. He only gave a shit because he was a selfish bastard, not out of the goodness of his heart. “I care,” he answered huskily. At least that statement was true, no matter his motives. “So how’s Emily doing?” Jason asked curiously.
Grady perked up immediately and started to wax poetic about his wife. Jason smiled as his friend went on and on about how much Emily had changed his life. Obviously there were no problems in that particular marriage. Grady adored Emily, and worried about her obsessively. Even though Jason had never wanted that kind of attachment to a woman, he almost envied Grady. He was happy, and the man had changed, and definitely for the better since Emily had come into his life. Once a lonely recluse, Grady was now practically worshipped by the entire town of Amesport, Maine. There was no doubt in Jason’s mind that Emily loved Grady just as intensely as he loved her. He’d seen it in her eyes when Jason had seen them together during the holidays.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to make it to their wedding. It had come at a time when he absolutely had to be in London on business, and Grady had made sure he married Emily with very little planning, as if he was afraid Emily would change her mind. At the time, Jason hadn’t been sure whether that previous commitment had been a blessing or a curse. He’d wanted to see Hope so damn desperately, but he wasn’t certain he would have been able to hide the fact that he wanted to fuck her if he saw her again. Honestly, he wasn’t certain he wouldn’t have thrown her over his shoulder and boarded his jet with her in tow, taking her anywhere that they could be alone together.
He talked to Grady for another thirty minutes, mostly about Emily, and Grady’s brothers. By the time he hung up, Jason almost saw double and his body begged for sleep.
He wandered into the bedroom and he immediately got hard when he saw Hope in the bed, her fiery hair splashed over a snowy white pillow. Obviously his dick was the only part of him not exhausted, and that part of his anatomy wasn’t angry with Hope at all. Even passed out on the bed, Hope looked breathtakingly beautiful. He’d pulled off her sandals, but he’d left her dressed in a pair of shorts and her tank top.
There’s only so much torture a guy can take!
He wasn’t about to fondle Hope while she was inebriated or unconscious. He wanted her awake and aware of everything that was happening when he buried himself inside her for the first time. And he’d be doing exactly that very soon.
Mine.
Jason wrestled with his sense of honor and morals again, wondered whether every man had a moment in his life where he’d do anything to get something or someone he wanted. This was a first for him. Admittedly, he took business risks, but only after he’d carefully calculated the risks and benefits of taking a particular action, when he was fairly certain of getting his expected outcome. He’d rushed into the last twenty-four hours strictly from emotion and lust, not bothering to even consider the consequences.
I’m just that pathetic and desperate to have her in my bed.
What the hell was happening to him? He could argue with himself forever, rationalize the reasons he’d done what he did, but it all came down to selfishness. He wanted Hope.
What the hell does it matter? It’s not like I’m keeping her forever. We’re going to have sex every day, every hour, until we’re both satisfied and tired of each other. When I know she isn’t going to marry the loser, and I have her out of my system, we can end this little unplanned vacation.
Jason scowled; his mind and body rebelled at that thought for some reason. His possessive instincts surged through his body as he gazed at her, so innocent and vulnerable as she slept.
Mine.
Now that he knew some of her secrets and was aware of how she’d lied to everyone to keep them, he felt even more protective of her, needed to keep her safe, even though he was so angry he wanted to wake her up and shake her to tell him the whole truth. And why she’d lied.
He forced himself not to look at Hope anymore, shucked off his pants and shirt and closed the shutters on the windows to dim the light. It was late in the afternoon, but the room was still bright.
He climbed into the bed beside her and smiled as he wondered whether she made that delicate snoring sound when she wasn’t intoxicated. It was actually kind of…sexy.
She moaned and rolled over on her side. Her hands immediately reached for him and she draped her body over his like a heat-seeking missile. “Jason,” she whispered with a low, sleepy voice full of intense longing.
She wasn’t awake, so he wondered how she knew it was him and not her fiancé.
She’s searching for me in her bed.
The fact that she looked for him, sought him out subconsciously, hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. He wrapped his arms around her protectively.
“You’ve got a lot to answer for, woman,” he whispered roughly. His eyes closed, and he felt as if Hope was finally exactly where she was supposed to be. His
dick was hard, but he was content not to act on that. Right now, it was enough to know she was here, and that he might finally get free of his long, horny preoccupation with her.
Not wanting to think about later, and with Hope’s warm body half covering his, he closed his eyes and slept.
Hope woke up slowly. Her head pounded as if someone slung a hammer at her skull. Her stomach roiled with nausea. The light hurt her eyes and she closed them again; one hand went to her aching head and the other to her rebellious stomach.
What the hell had happened?
Desperate to use the bathroom—her bladder felt as if it was about to explode—she opened her eyes carefully to let the light seep in gradually.
Oh, shit.
Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she became aware of a very large, very warm body next to hers. She jerked her head toward the form lying beside her¸ and moaned from the pain of moving so quickly and the exact identity of the unyielding mass of muscle next to her.
Jason?
Where in the hell am I?
Hope inched out of the bed slowly, determined to find the bathroom. She didn’t have to look far. There was one attached to this bedroom, so close that she could see it. As she sat up on the edge of the bed, her head pounding, the short distance to the visible toilet across the room seemed like miles in her current condition.
Get up. Get there before you embarrass yourself.
“Need help?”
Hope flinched at the low, smooth baritone. While it was soft and gentle, right now, to her aching head, it sounded as if Jason screamed at her. “No,” she responded, embarrassed, as her eyes focused on those awesome abs right in front of her. He’d gotten out of bed and stood in front of her without her even noticing. Jason was in a pair of navy boxer briefs and nothing else. Mortified, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.