Claim Me Now (Heron Harbor Book 2)

by Lea Nolan

  “Excuse me,” she said, shifting in her seat.

  “Sorry, I’m not trying to make a move. It’s this booth. It’s tight. And I’m—”

  “Tall.”

  “Right.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think about that,” Raven said.

  He shrugged. “Short people usually don’t.”

  Her jaw dropped in offense. “I’m not short. I’m five-four. That’s only an inch below the average height for a woman.”

  He tilted his head. “By definition, below average is short.”

  “In my boots, I’m much taller.”

  He laughed. “Because they’ve got a three-inch heel.”

  Raven looked around the dining room. “Would you like to move to a different table? There’s an empty one.” She pointed to a four-top in the center of the room. If they moved, her local admirers would listen in to their every word and probably hijack the conversation. Jack wasn’t interested in the islanders’ latest colonoscopies, cataract surgeries, or Zumba classes. He wanted Raven all to himself.

  Jack shook his head. “Nah, we’ll stay here.”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  He wasn’t supposed to have met this woman last night or be sitting here with her now, but damn, he longed to know everything about her. “So, are you going to answer my question now?”

  “Which one is that?” She tilted her head, and dark hair cascaded over her shoulder.

  “What else do you do besides come to the island?”

  Raven straightened and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m uh . . . ” She cleared her throat. “Between opportunities at the moment.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” No wonder she’d changed the subject earlier. Now he felt like a huge douchebag for pushing her on it again.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, well, these things happen. It’s why I came to the island this weekend. I needed to assess my situation.”

  He nodded. “Are you okay, money-wise?” Even if he hadn’t just met her, it was a shitty, crass question to ask, but money was one of the few things he was good at helping people with, when he wanted to, which as it turned out, wasn’t often.

  “I’m fine,” she shot back, adding a laser glare for good measure, ending the discussion.

  Oh-kay. He glanced around the room, searching for something else to talk about. “Hey, it was funny that Claire thought we were a couple, huh?” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

  Raven forced a laugh. “Yeah, that was weird. We don’t even know each other.”

  “But we do have a connection. Or at least, we did.” Jack rested his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned forward. His leg brushed against her knee.

  Her breath caught. “What do you mean?” Her dark pupils dilated.

  He nailed her with his gaze. “You know what I mean. Just because we haven’t talked about what happened doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  If he lived for a hundred years, he’d never forget the kiss they’d shared. The pure, unmitigated need and desire in her touch, and the utter abandon with which she threw herself into his embrace.

  He was reasonably sure their kiss had made an equally indelible impression on her.

  Raven drew a deep breath. “That was . . . unfortunate.”

  Jack arched a brow. “I think I prefer ‘uncharacteristic.’”

  She couldn’t fight a smile. “It was that, too. Insofar as I was sleeping. And you were a total stranger.”

  He lay his right palm on the table, barely an inch from her left hand. His lips quirked. “So, we’re talking about it now?”

  Chapter 6

  The marimba ringtone of Raven’s cell chimed, shattering the tension between her and Jack.

  Saved by the bell. Literally.

  Wren’s face was plastered across the screen. Raven picked up before it rang a second time. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Are you okay? I just got off the phone with Lark.”

  “Hang on a second.” Raven pulled the phone from her ear and spoke to Jack. “I need to take this outside.” This was not an interrogation for his ears. Raven slid from the booth and escaped out the front of the busy diner.

  “What’s going on?” Wren asked.

  “Lark screwed me by booking her friend in the house when I thought it was vacant.”

  “But you’re on the island. You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Wren said.

  “I’m sorry. It just sort of happened.”

  “That’s not like you. You plan all your trips weeks in advance. Like coming to my house for Thanksgiving in two weeks.”

  “Well, not this time, okay? Forget the how or why that I’m here and focus on my bigger problem. There is a giant guy in the house, and I need another place to put him. He doesn’t want to go anywhere else because he has a contract with Lark.”

  “There are no other available rentals?” Wren asked.

  “The rental agency is closed for the weekend, which is ridiculous, by the way.” Raven glared at the shuttered office across the street.

  “Oh, right. Mrs. Klaussen has been complaining that business was too slow to justify staying open. What about the B&Bs?”

  “Smugglers’ Cove is closed for renovations. Apparently, they’re trying to out-Disney Disney. I don’t know what’s going on with the Sandpiper yet. They aren’t answering their phone. If all else fails, I guess I could crash at your place, except I really needed the alone time.”

  Wren sighed. “I’m sorry. My house isn’t available either.”

  “Why not?”

  “Smith and I left the island two days ago. He’s shooting an episode of his show in New Orleans.”

  In addition to owning Harbor’s Edge, Smith had recently begun a new cooking show that showcased the recipes from his bestselling cookbook.

  A glimmer of hope flickered in Raven’s chest. This was the solution she’d been searching for. “Then how about I ship Jack over there? He won’t steal any of Smith’s cooking knives.”

  “No, because we had the floors refinished before we left. All our furniture is stacked in the garage.”

  Raven thunked her forehead against the diner’s brick exterior wall. “You’re killing me.”

  “Sorry,” Wren said, her voice full of compassion.

  “It’s okay. Not your fault. I just got excited there for a second.”

  “So . . . how giant is he?”

  “Huge. Like six-four.” He was like a sycamore. If they’d met under any other circumstances, Raven would have already climbed every last branch.

  But this weekend was different. She hadn’t come to the island looking for love or even lust. Last night, lust had found her, but her brain had been muddled by tequila. When the imaginary Mr. Perfect turned out to be the very real Jack Baines, Raven hadn’t had her full wits, and thus was at a loss. She hated to be at a disadvantage. Now, despite her obvious attraction to him, she couldn’t shake the disaster of that first encounter. Though it was hard to convince her lady parts of that every time his legs brushed against hers in the booth.

  “Wowza.” Wren paused. “Lark said he’s handsome.”

  Raven emitted a high-pitched sound even she didn’t recognize.

  Wren laughed. “Okay, so he’s more than handsome. I take it he’s super-hot.”

  “Like Clark Kent without the glasses.”

  “Wait, isn’t that . . . Superman?”

  Raven sighed. “Yeah.”

  “So why didn’t you just say Superman?”

  “Because then you’d think I was exaggerating,” Raven answered.

  Wren snorted. “You’re a little damaged, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Raven answered. More than you realize, sister.

  “If you can’t find another place for him to stay, you might be stuck with him. Would that be so bad? Lark says he’s a good guy.”

  “I mean, he didn’t murder me last night.”

  “That’s a low bar,” Wren said.

  “And he made me some wonder
ful Italian espresso this morning. But I have no idea. I’ve only barely started to get to know him. We’re having breakfast at the Shipwreck.”

  “That’s a nice first date.”

  Raven grunted. “It’s not a date. I didn’t come here to get lucky.”

  “Why did you come to the island?”

  Dammit. It figured that her lawyer sister would find some way to bend the conversation back to why she’d traveled to Heron Harbor. Well, she wasn’t ready to spill just yet. It’d been hard enough admitting that she was between jobs to Jack, a perfect stranger who had no investment in her as a person. Telling her sister was too humiliating.

  “Because I got in my car and drove here, that’s why.”

  “I’m calling bullshit. Something’s up with you. Lark said you kissed him. In your sleep. While you were wearing next to nothing.”

  Raven groaned. “It was a sex dream thing.”

  “Yeah, Lark told me that, too. And that after you woke up and sorted everything out with Lark, you spent the night in the house with this nice, super-hot guy, who’d kissed you back, and you didn’t boink him. That’s so not Raven.”

  Her resolve began to crack. Wren wouldn’t stop pushing until she’d unearthed what she wanted. Revealing the truth would be painful, but at least Raven could control how she spun it. She pushed out a chestful of air. “Look. Stuff happened at work.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Wren asked.

  “Billy’s kids sold the company out from under him.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “And . . . I was dismissed.” Raven barely managed to force the words past her lips. They sounded foreign as if she’d suddenly begun speaking in tongues.

  Wren gasped. “Oh, Rae.”

  “So now you know why I came to the beach house. And why boinking even Superman was the last thing that crossed my mind. Please don’t tell Lark. I don’t want her sending me any crystals or essential oils.”

  “What are you going to do?” Wren asked.

  Raven sighed as she picked at the mortar between the bricks on the diner wall. “I don’t know. My contract included a nice severance package but also a twelve-month non-compete agreement. Maybe I’ll join Lark in her RV for a while.”

  “Oh God, I’d love to see that.”

  Raven laughed. “We wouldn’t last a week.”

  After they considered the myriad ways Lark and Raven might Thelma and Louise their way across the country, Wren offered, “Just a thought. I know you didn’t come to the island this weekend to find a guy, but a guy found you. Why don’t you take advantage of that? Superman might be a great distraction to ease your troubles.”

  In theory, that made a lot of sense. If this were a typical problem, Raven would be all over that idea (and the man in question), but this was a next-level issue.

  “Considering he reminded me this morning that he rented a solitary vacation, I don’t think he’s looking for a roommate,” Raven answered.

  “Oh, that’s pretty clear.”

  “Plus, I don’t need the distraction. I’ve never been fired before, Wren. I need to figure out how this happened. What I missed. How I screwed up.”

  “Then, in that case, I hope the Sandpiper has a room. And if not, good luck not jumping his bones. Again.”

  “Ha ha. I’ll do my best.”

  Jack watched as Raven made her way back to their table. Compact and confident, she strode through the room in her boots like a panther. From his vantage point at the back of the room, he saw her as if for the first time. This woman who looked so young, inexperienced, and as sweet as a strawberry, was very likely anything but. Raven Donovan had a killer instinct; he was sure of it. She was a mystery he had to unfold.

  “Hey, you waited,” Raven said when she got to the table and saw the plates that had been delivered.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t eat without you.”

  She sat and laid her napkin on her lap. “I wouldn’t have minded if you did. Your food will be cold.”

  “I’d rather eat lukewarm eggs with you than hot ones alone,” he answered without a hint of irony, then took his first bite.

  Raven looked up from her poached eggs. “That’s really sweet.”

  “Careful. You’ll ruin my reputation.” Jack grinned and sipped his coffee.

  What magic spell had this woman wrought? Any other day of the week, Jack would have chomped down his whole meal by now and ordered seconds. But here he was, not only playing the role of a gentleman but thoroughly enjoying it and waxing so eloquently that he thought she might slide off the diner bench.

  She rolled her eyes as she dunked a piece of toast into her broken egg yolk. “Stop. You can’t possibly be such an ogre.”

  If you only knew. You’d walk those boots right out of here, dump my shit on the driveway, and lock me out of the house, regardless of my contract with Lark.

  Jack set the mug down and met her gaze. “The truth is that I don’t get many opportunities to be sweet, so it’s nice to have one.”

  Wasn’t that the goddamn truth?

  Raven’s eyes gleamed. “Well, in that case.” She reached over and snatched a piece of bacon off his plate.

  His jaw dropped. “You said you wouldn’t do that.”

  Her eyes flashed with surprise. “I didn’t plan to.”

  “And yet, you did.”

  “It just looked so good.” She bit her bottom lip. The same lip he’d sunk his own teeth into last night.

  “I know. Which is why I ordered it.”

  She took a bite, then tossed her head back and moaned. “Oh my God, it is so good. I might need another.”

  The sound of her pleasure stirred something deep in his chest. It was almost enough to offer her the rest of his order. Still, he wrapped an enormous arm around his plate. “You’re not having any of these.”

  “But you’ve got three more slices. And two whole sausages.”

  Jack raised an arm and flagged down Claire. When she arrived at the table, she lifted a judgy eyebrow at Raven as she popped the last bite of bacon into her mouth.

  Claire set her hands on her hips. “You took his bacon.”

  “Just one slice.” Raven lifted her index finger in front of an apologetic smile.

  “She’d like some more,” Jack said.

  “I can’t eat an entire order,” Raven corrected.

  “Can’t or won’t?” Claire asked.

  “Either. Both. What I really want is just one more piece.”

  “And I won’t give her any of mine. Because mine,” Jack said.

  Claire shook her head. “You two are a trip. I’ll get you another slice, Raven. By the way, the Sandpiper’s all filled up this weekend. Nancy told Cleveland when she dropped off our baked goods this morning. I guess Janice didn’t answer their phone because she’s so busy running around after their guests.”

  When Claire went back to the kitchen, Raven dropped her head in her hands. “We’re officially out of options. After breakfast, I’ll pack up and go home.”

  Jack gently placed his palm on her arm. Her skin was as soft as powder. “Don’t do that.”

  She lifted her head. “Why not? It’s okay. I’ll be back home in a few hours, and you can have the solitary weekend you expected.”

  It had already been so much more than he’d expected. Being around her made him feel lighter and distracted him from the reason he’d come. And she was so lovely to look at.

  “Listen. The house is enormous. There’s what, five bedrooms?”

  “Six, plus a loft.”

  “That’s more than enough space. You can do whatever you had planned. I’ve got books to read, movies to watch, and a beach to walk. We don’t have to cross paths if we don’t want to after we’re done here.” He stacked some sausage and pancakes on his fork and took a bite. Damn, this shit was good.

  “Why would you do this?” Raven picked up her toast.

  He pushed the basket of jelly packets toward her. She shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”

 
; He shrugged. “If you’re so worried about sharing the house, give me a partial refund. Because I think you need this weekend as much as I do.” His first bite of bacon exploded on his tongue. This was the good stuff, thick cut, and no doubt from some local farm. He almost couldn’t fault Raven for swiping a piece.

  “Why do you need it?”

  Because he’d expected to be alone like he was after every corporate takeover and mass firing. Every time he ruined someone’s life by buying out a company that someone else had poured decades into, all to generate profits to please his fucking stepfather.

  Winthrop Financial Group was a private equity giant with massive corporate investments. As the managing partner of WFG’s Mergers and Acquisitions unit, Jack oversaw each new purchase.

  This week, he’d orchestrated a leveraged buy-out of a mid-sized diagnostics company with a promising new device and potentially industry-changing app. To do so, he’d gathered investors who’d leveraged massive debt to purchase the company. To make a profit, Jack would have to restructure it, slash its payroll and benefits, and squeeze its remaining employees to increase productivity. Five years from now, if it managed to survive, he’d either take it public or sell off its constituent parts.

  He’d do it all, and generate billions, because he was fucking great at his job. But he wasn’t immune to the human toll it extracted. He put countless people out of work and made life difficult for others by jacking up their insurance costs and slashing other benefits. He bought and sold off families’ legacies, often underbidding what they were worth.

  Each purchase took a little piece of his soul.

  He’d wanted to stay with WFG’s other product lines, the clean side. But his stepfather, Beckett Winthrop, had other plans. Jack’s success meant he was stuck in private equity—until he took over as Beckett's heir.

  Once he did, Jack would take the firm public and diversify by adding financial services and increase investments in small upstarts with lots of potential. He was certain WFG would be even more profitable and could reduce its private equity footprint while increasing its ethical practices.

  But Jack’s ascendency kept being delayed. Beckett had been set to retire three years ago, but each year since, he’d put it off, claiming he was still vigorous enough to helm WFG, along with racing his 80-foot yacht and attempting to circumnavigate the globe in a hot air balloon.