“They did. I scheduled your flight for tomorrow morning like you asked.”
“Perfect.” He tried for a smile, but it slipped when his phone buzzed with a reply text from a certain beautiful architect.
—I’ll schedule it in—
The message was read three times but didn’t change. No smart-alecky comments, no obnoxious emojis. All professional, all business.
Jase hated every word of it.
“Everything all right?”
“I'm fine.” Setting the phone face down on the desk, he pushed thoughts of Madison and dumb rushing pulses from his mind. Again.
“You know, you keep saying you’re okay, but, forgive me for pointing out, it sounds as hollow now as it did a few days ago.”
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “I have a lot on my mind.”
Resting her notebook and pen in her lap, his overly observant assistant studied him. “Like Miss Blakeley?”
His reply stuck in his throat, coming out as a low grunt.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You know you can ask me anything.” But, he braced himself.
“Since when have you ever been afraid of taking a risk? It’s not like you. You wouldn’t be sitting here in this office, in a building you built, or convinced the Oldman heiress to sell off half her property if you’d stopped fighting at the first sign of uncertainty. So why now? Why with this?”
His neck heated, and he rubbed his palms on his slacks.
“You mentioned Natasha had some pretty harsh accusations toward Madison. Are you afraid there’s some truth to them?”
“What? No.” Those doubts had been shoved away long ago.
“Then why’d you let her go?”
He opened his mouth only to close it, then open it again. “I wasn’t the only one who wanted it this way. Madison made things pretty clear she wants nothing but a professional relationship.”
“She’s trying to prove herself to you—to California's most eligible bachelor and real estate tycoon. And she’s probably scared. Not to mention, she has some pretty big shoes to fill.”
His chair scraped across the tile as he stood abruptly and moved to the window. “Then the last thing she needs is someone like me getting in her way.”
Or causing her more pain in the end.
She didn’t offer more, and he looked out to the yawning Pacific without really seeing it. After a minute, he gave his friend and confidant a sideways glance. “Real estate tycoon?”
“Just repeating the caption under the latest photo of you.” She shrugged too casually, her bright eyes crinkling at the corners. Gathering her things, she stood and moved toward the door. “Why don't you go over your schedule for the week and let me know if you need me to change anything.”
Nodding, he watched her go, but kept his place by the window. After that day he’d kissed Madison, he’d been confused and angry. Angry at Natasha, angry at himself. Confused when what should have felt like a lighter weight on his shoulders was now only heavier.
Why?
Because, Penny was right. He cared about Madison. Not just that, he'd fallen for her, his intriguing, entirely genuine, adorably sexy, dark-haired architect. The business colleague who wanted to be only that. And should be only that.
I need fresh air.
He stepped out of his office, but Penny wasn't at her desk. Grabbing one of her blue sticky notes, he wrote her a quick message, but his hand stopped when he caught sight of the picture she still had pulled up on her computer.
There he was, grinning for the camera with Missy Oldman, her heavily jeweled fingers wrapped around his arm, her cheek pressed against his. Her lips were full and sultry under the club’s lights. The photo, which had popped up everywhere, showed none of his annoyance or the fact he’d been dead tired. He looked like he’d enjoyed the evening. He looked like…
I look like a guy enjoying my title of most eligible bachelor.
Wadding up the sticky note, he chucked it in the trash. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Penny's brag book. He pulled it out and it fell open to an article in the middle about a convention he'd attended a few months back. There'd been a dinner with a guest speaker, black tie and all. He'd asked a woman from his lawyer’s firm to accompany him. The night had been all right, nothing to remember really, but from the colored newsprint, they'd been the star couple. She was beautiful with auburn curls and, in her heels, they were almost the same height. The camera loved her, but he hadn't felt a thing.
A hesitant dig through the rest of the magazine clippings and paper cuttings told the same story. A tall, curvy brunette, with her arm around his waist at the premiere of a friend’s newest movie. A woman with obsidian hair, her Latin heritage evidenced in her smoky eyes, dancing with him at an event he couldn't even recall.
“I knew who you were.”
Madison’s dig from that day in her office crawled front and center, and he didn’t try to stop it.
She’d apologized for those words, but they had stemmed from somewhere. There was a reason that title had stuck. He’d never refuted it. Not once, except to Natasha that night on the balcony. And, why?
Jase caught sight of the horizon beyond the windows through his open office door. Because, he thought, rubbing at his head. Standing on the shore, keeping to the sand, was safe. Wading? Wading led to swimming, and swimming required trust. Trust in yourself to navigate the waves and pull of a tide you couldn’t control…
He closed the book but didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Natasha was right. He’d never let anyone in. But you don’t build on a broken foundation. And he had too many fractures and cracks to count.
Glancing down at the brag book, he ran his thumb along the edges. A vision of Madison on his land, pulling inspiration from its roots, had him pausing. The women pictured on the pages between his hands were nothing like his architect, and his pulse kicked up speed, digging into his conscious like a dull, jagged blade as it raced at his temples, pounded in his head.
He’d given her no explanation, only murmured something about business colleagues, and left her there to think…anything of him. For better or worse. He’d told her once that he trusted her ideas, trusted her, but gave nothing back in return. If he were any kind of gentleman, he’d have given her an explanation.
He straigtened when Penny stepped out of the ladies’ room. “Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, will you? There's something I need to do.”
****
Jase neared Blakeley Architecture & Design with a thousand speeches in his head, but not one feeling right. His nerves were no help. Or, maybe they were the culprit. Either way, he was pulling into a parking stall, out of time, and frowning at the perky lemon tree next to the entrance.
Inside, Madison’s receptionist sat behind a desk, and from her wide-eyed expression, she hadn’t forgotten their last encounter.
“May I help you?”
He took off his sunglasses. “Is Madison in?”
Eric emerged from the back room, his stare glinting like a steel I-beam. “She's not here.”
“Do you have a time she'll be back? I need to see her.”
“I'm sure Sarah will be happy to take any message you wish to leave.”
Jase shoved his glasses into his breast pocket. “Do you know where I can find her? It's important.”
The girl watched him, her eyes guarded, while Eric only crossed his arms over his chest.
“So, we're resorting to grade school games?”
“You want to talk maturity? Who's the one living like he’s still in a frat house? The least you could do is show her some respect.” The accountant set a folded newspaper on the desk, twisting the black and white print for him to see.
Jase’s lips pressed into a hard line as he read the small words between the guy’s fingers. Then the tightness leaked to his gut. It was a feature on the Old Theatre. “What are you getting at?”
“You tell me. There’s six paragraphs of Simon Weston giving a
hand out to one of the local architects. A company whose name isn’t even mentioned until the second to last line.” Eric scraped the paper off the counter, curling it in his hand. “She deserves better.”
The muscles in Jase’s jaw flexed along with his knuckles. “I can’t control the media, and I didn’t know anything about this piece, but I’m sorry.”
“Right. Such trivial details are beneath you, I’m sure.”
His fists itched to hit something. Lucky for the accountant, he had both maturity and restraint.
Eric glanced past him to the far wall, the one lined with photographs, and a shadow fell over the guy’s eyes, sobering his next words. “She’s carrying enough doubt and insecurity right now, she doesn’t need that in her personal life as well.”
Painful heartbeats hammered the walls of Jase’s chest. “You’re right.”
Surprise flickered across the other man’s face, but he masked it. “Good. Then leave her alone.”
“I need to talk to her, Eric.”
Sarah glanced up at her co-worker as he shook his head and said, “You really don’t.”
Jase could only stare at him. “And you know what’s best for her?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I won’t let her get hurt.”
The low hum from a printing machine filled the room as both men held their ground, then Jase turned his attention to the receptionist. “Will you please let Miss Blakeley know I stopped by?”
She peeked at Eric before nodding.
Outside at his truck, Jase fumbled with his keys, then rubbed his neck, his gaze falling to a blackened, grimy piece of gum ground into the asphalt. The exchange with Eric, hearing about the weight Madison carried, made him feel beyond that scum rotting next to his shoe. He should have been honest with her in her office that day. And he should have made sure she got the recognition for the restoration she deserved—should have considered how important the project was for her company. Just like he should have considered what kissing her might mean.
A rush of wind bit at his skin, and his nerves jumped at the darkening sky. He hustled to unlock his door.
“Mr. Cutter?”
He jerked around, dropping his keys. The young receptionist stood behind him, her wild curls whipping her face. Looking between her and the front door, he bent to retrieve them. “Yes?”
“Listen, I'm sorry about Eric. He's worried about Madison losing another…” She glanced over her shoulder before turning back. “This has been hard on all of us lately. Seeing that article didn’t help.”
“I’ll make it right.”
She studied him, her head titled with just enough mistrust that his heart sank, but then her lips lifted in a half-smile.
“The Manor House Country Inn.”
“What?”
“That's where Madison is,” she said.
“The Manor House?” His pulse spiked for the second time that afternoon. “I'm not familiar with it.”
“It's a secluded country inn she designed up on the way to Cowles Mountain, east of here. It's still under construction, but she’s been going up there to check the progress. And think.”
His attention went east and then up to the sky, the early evening blue all but gone. In its place, ominous, unfriendly clouds gathered, their ugliest parts rolling right over the hillside she’d pointed out. “She’s up there, in that? This far into the day?”
She nodded. “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s just a late summer storm.”
Flashes from a specific late summer storm cut into his vision, blurring it. He closed his eyes to shut the memories up and ran a hand over his face. “Thanks for telling me.”
Sliding into his truck, he grabbed his phone without a second thought to the receptionist. Madison needed to be found.
—Call me—he texted, his fingers only hesitating a moment—Please—
Jase shoved his key in the ignition but didn’t turn it over. Through the driver’s side window, the base of Cowles Mountain was visible but nothing more due to the storm’s greedy fingers.
“Come on, call.” He ran his thumb back and forth across the keys hanging from his key chain, letting the metallic clink work against his anxiety, but the familiar soothing sound didn’t clamp down the building dread as his blank phone screen stared back at him. “Where are you?”
The sky groaned in the distance, and a curse fell from his lips in a hoarse breath. He wiped his palms on the seat before starting the engine.
Jase threw the truck in gear but kept the brake pedal pinned to the floor as a loud crack rocked his nerves. He closed his eyes a heartbeat only to open them and find Eric staring from the other side of the glass door of Madison’s firm.
Deep, fierce determination started at the base of his spine. Just business colleagues or not, he couldn’t leave her up in the mountains alone. He had to do something this time.
Letting his foot off the brake, he drove as fast as he dared, eating up the distance between him and Madison. Suffocating fear dogged him, but he kept ahead of it, repeating his baseball mantra in a tight whisper under his breath. Now, if he could only do the same with the low, brutal clouds closing in above him.
Chapter Twenty
Madison slipped under the thick sheet of plastic covering the front entrance of The Manor House Country Inn. The air was cool with the dense clouds gathering, and her fleece-lined hoody slung over her passenger seat sounded heavenly right then.
With the absence of workers, a stillness settled inside the half-completed structure. Her lungs filled with the scent of freshly cut wood, the earthy fragrance piercing her soul, and she ran her hand over the six-inch window casings with the initials of the inn monogrammed into the center design.
My details.
Her heart thrummed like she was back at college graduation, accepting her diploma. Seeing her designs come to life did that to her. The thrill never got old.
She turned a full circle then wandered from room to room but eventually found herself back on the main floor in the reading nook. Her favorite spot. Only, today the gray clouds seemed to have found their way inside, because everywhere she looked was a reminder of Sun Valley and the Bed & Breakfast, especially the way the inn nestled into the green forested hillside, secluded from the rest of the world.
Refusing the memories, she inspected the rough cutout in the wall for the hand-carved archway the owners requested, wishing it was in already. She adored how the older couple was more concerned with details than size. That was a big part of why the design had meant so much to her—that, and the inn had become her place to decompress and think.
Madison rolled her shoulders, rubbing at a knot on the left side. As if tossing and turning all night wasn’t bad enough, her muscles had to join in the fun. She glanced down at her charm, wondering how many sleepless nights her dad had suffered when business had been rocky. Though, he’d probably never lost three potential clients within days of each other.
Eric took the latest loss almost as hard as she had. His advice was to talk to Jase about getting some exposure on the Idaho home, convinced that would solve all of the company’s problems. He said it was the least he could do after the way he'd used her. Only, she couldn't ask that of Jase.
Her footsteps trailed through the sawdust as she moved to the grand fireplace and sat down. The rough wood wasn’t yet rocked and mortared, but she sagged against it anyway.
Who am I kidding.
Her problems at work were only a mere part of her miserableness.
A loud howl tore through the trusses as a gust of wind whipped the plastic in violent bursts, and she jumped, bumping her shoulder. She shivered, rubbing the sore spot as she swept the inn with one last glance before moving toward the door.
Even here I can’t find peace. Stupid weather.
The sudden storm beat against the exposed wood framework, causing bits of dust to swirl at her feet and in the air. Rain pelted her entire body as she stepped outside, its stinging droplets slanting sideways. Her shoes sank into th
e mud, squelching with each step. Madison tried to stay to the patches of grass, but the soggy blades were just as slippery, and she barely managed to grab onto her car’s side mirror to stay upright.
Deep rumbling sounded behind her, and she hurried to dig out her keys, realizing the worst of the storm hadn’t hit yet. But what she’d mistaken for thunder was the grinding engine of a truck. Shielding her eyes from the rain, she swallowed hard as shiny red metal came into view, and flashbacks to the first time she’d seen that color red, glinting in the sun outside her office, froze her in place.
Her confusion at seeing the truck here, now, fell from her lips in a string of whispered words. “What in the…”
In less than a few strokes of a drafting pencil, Jase slipped from the cab and crossed to where she stood, careless of the rain and dirt splattering his expensive suit. Like the rogue it was, her heart turned into a mess of quick beats as the heat from his nearness kissed her skin.
“What were you thinking?” Grabbing her arm just above the elbow, he raised his voice over the storm as the rain picked up. “You need to get in the truck, now.”
Pulling out of his grip, she wiped the water from her face and found the words that had stuck in her throat at his arrival. “How did you—why are you here?”
“Madison, I'm not messing around. We need to get off of the mountain.” His eyes blazed, the hazel like a fiery sunset. “Please.”
Another surge of wind gusted, and Madison gripped his shoulders to steady herself. She peered into his face only to frown, her shock at his sudden appearance forgotten. “Are you…are you all right?”
His chest rose and fell heavily beneath the wet shirt clinging to his body, and he lifted a hand to his face, scrubbing the rain away. “Please, just get in the truck.”
“I'm fine.”
More rain shredded the air, biting her exposed skin. She was being difficult but couldn’t help it. Her tangled hair fell across her face as she wrenched her key ring from her wet pocket, but when shoving the drenched layers out of the way, the keys tumbled from her fingers. She bent to pick them up, but he beat her to it.
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