Slowly, his gaze shifted downward until it snagged hers in the reflection.
“I...learned something disturbing about a friend tonight.”
He stared at her, not saying more. And still, Hope waited. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. His breath panted in and out in short, shallow spurts. He let her see his internal battle, but that was as far as he let her in and it wasn’t helpful because she didn’t understand his turmoil. Was he trying not to say more or struggling to find the right words to tell her?
Their breaths mingled together, fogging the cooled glass and eventually obscuring his reflection. She needed to see him.
Twisting, Hope pressed her back against the window, putting as much space between them as his angled body would allow. It wasn’t enough, but considering he had her trapped it would have to do.
“Tell me,” she offered, quietly. It was the only thing she could do, let him know she was there and ready to listen, just like she’d always been when they were younger.
How many times had Gage come to her, upset over an argument with his father? How many times had she listened, giving him a sounding board and a place to vent?
Gage’s eyes searched her face, sadness dulling their golden-brown depths. His lips parted and she thought he might kiss her. But then he closed them again and just shook his head.
Slowly, he bent his elbows. His body drew nearer. The heat of him increased, like the warmth of a fire.
He
was
going to kiss her. It was the logical expectation given the sequence of events. He’d only done it once before, their junior year during the Cupid festival. She’d been so surprised and overwhelmed. And then he’d laughed, like the whole thing was a joke. Her heart jerking inside her chest, she’d played along. Smacking his shoulder and acting outraged.
She wondered if he hadn’t pretended that day, would things have been different. If he’d owned up to wanting her then, instead of waiting until he was leaving for a life filled with danger, could she have found the strength to tell him no?
Every cell in her body strained closer to him, wanting exactly what it shouldn’t.
Kissing him back then had made her head fuzzy. She didn’t like fuzzy. How much more potent would he be now?
Hope was desperately afraid she wouldn’t survive the experience, at least not with her resolve intact.
Which is why she should have been grateful when his mouth overshot the target. Instead, he buried his head into the crook of her neck. His forehead rolled back and forth against her shoulder. His mouth, lips closed in a tight line and far from seductive, brushed against her skin. She felt the touch, anyway. The energy of it blasted straight through to her toes.
Her hands slid up, grasping his hips and holding on. His shirt bunched in her hands. A man this strong shouldn’t be this exposed. Something about it was wrong. Hope wanted to hold on to him. To protect him—which was laughable since he was the toughest, most capable person she’d ever met—until whatever had made him vulnerable passed and he could pull back the edges of his hard outer shell.
They stayed there, wrapped together; the pane of glass pressed tight against her back as cold seeped through the bulky threads of her sweater. She didn’t try to move.
“Thank you,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy.
“Fo—” Her own voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “For what?”
Gage lifted away from her, pulling back until he could look straight into her eyes again. A single finger trailed softly across the curve of her cheek. “Letting me in.”
The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on her. She might have opened the door to him, but he was the one keeping her out. Keeping everyone out if she had to bet. Something had definitely upset him. And the fact that he’d come to
her
instead of his parents, his sister or any of the other friends he still kept in touch with, told her that he didn’t really want to talk about it.
No doubt he’d come to her fully expecting to be rebuffed, so she’d been a safe choice.
She shrugged. What could she say?
His fingers tangled into her hair, tugging at the strands until she had no choice but to tip her head backward.
The kiss came out of nowhere. Maybe because she’d expected it earlier and let her guard down when it didn’t happen. Because she hadn’t been braced for it, the touch of his mouth overwhelmed her.
It should have been just as wild as he was. She waited for the danger and speed that he thrilled to, to spill out from him and flood her. Instead, it was sweet. Gentle. And probably more devastating.
Fierce and demanding she could have fought against. But the sweet coaxing and aching vulnerability that filled the warm question his mouth asked...how could she combat that?
He’d definitely improved from their first kiss, which meant she’d never stood a chance. Opening to him was the easiest—and most dangerous—thing she’d ever done. And the minute she did he swooped in and took much more than she’d meant to give.
His hands in her hair tightened, arching her neck and pulling her up onto tiptoe so he could get closer. His mouth ground against hers, finally giving her that biting taste of danger she’d expected. Too late.
Her own body betrayed her. Her hands grappled, getting tangled in his clothes as she searched for a better hold on him. One she’d never find.
Somehow her leg found its way to his hip, hooking around the jutting edge to press him tighter against her. If her hands couldn’t do the job right...
Gage pulled away from her, breaking their kiss. A protesting sound rumbled through her chest. Where the heck had that come from?
They both panted, desperate to replace the oxygen they’d denied themselves. Just how long had they been locked together?
He stared at her with hot, serious, smoldering eyes. For a man who’d finally gotten a taste of what he’d always wanted, he did not look happy. Being kissed senseless and then frowned at had always been her secret fantasy, right?
He backed away, disentangling his hands from her hair. “I shouldn’t have come.”
She really wished she could agree with him on that. She wanted to. But she couldn’t be upset that he’d come to her when he needed someone.
Without another word he left.
Hope stayed right where she was, sagging against the window. The rumble of the Harley rattled the pane of glass, echoing down her spine and jangling her already-sensitive nerve endings.
7
G
AGE
’
S
CHEEKS
WERE
FROZEN
from cold and exposure. His fingers were stiff. He wasn’t used to the South Carolina weather yet and had forgotten how cold it could get in the middle of the night.
He might have ridden until the sun came up if his aching thumbs hadn’t forced him to give up. The weakness bothered him, but what could he do? They’d heal eventually or so the doctors had told him. Part of him wished they wouldn’t, that they could stay a visible and painful reminder of the mistake he’d made so he wouldn’t do it again.
The house was dark. His parents’ car was in the garage so he knew they were home from the party. Although at 3:00 a.m. he would have expected them to be.
Letting himself into the house, he had an unpleasant flashback to his teenage years, sneaking in past curfew and hoping no one would notice. He shook the memory away. He was far from a teenager now.
Dropping the keys onto the counter, he didn’t bother to turn on any lights as he moved through the house.
“You could have at least left a note.” The hard voice startled him. Bright light flared on in the living room, momentarily blinding him.
He was losing his edge outside the danger zone, which was the only explanation for how his father had gotten the drop on him. If he’d been in Afghanistan it never would have happened.
At least he hoped.
“Excuse me?”
His dad unfolded his body from the sofa, slipping his hands into the pockets of his worn robe as he stood. It was the same dark gray robe the man had owned for as long as Gage could remember. That sense of déjà vu returned, right along with the urge to start spouting excuses for why he’d been out so late.
He bit back the words, clenching his jaw tight and grinding his molars together. He was not a kid, dammit, and hadn’t been for a very long time. It was about time the old man realized that.
“Your mother worries, Gage. And after getting that visit in the middle of the night to tell us you’d been captured, I can’t say that I blame her. Your friend Eli called your sister tonight, said you’d gotten some hard news and suggested we keep an eye on you. When your mother and I got home and you weren’t here...”
He’d have a nice chat with Eli in the morning. Calling his sister. What did the guy think he was doing? But first things first. “Where’s Mama?”
“Pacing in the bedroom.”
“Dammit,” he said without any real heat. Gage bent his head to stare at the ground and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
His dad took a step closer. “Don’t blame your sister.”
He jerked his gaze upward, but kept rubbing at the tightness invading his muscles. “I don’t. Look, I don’t know what you guys went through because I wasn’t here, but I can imagine.”
His father rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I suppose you can.”
“I needed to get out for a while. I took the Harley.”
“So I noticed.”
“That okay?”
“You know you don’t have to ask.”
No, he really didn’t. Growing up he’d wanted nothing more than to take that bike out and open it wide so he could feel the wind slapping back against his face. His dad had never let him touch the thing.
With a sigh, he decided now wasn’t the time to get into it. It was late and he needed to let his mama know that he wasn’t a stain on a road somewhere.
But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I’m not the same irresponsible eighteen-year-old boy I used to be.”
“You don’t have to tell me that, son. I was eighteen and indestructible once, too. It’s hard when you figure out you’re not. For me, that was the day you were born and I realized I was responsible for protecting another human being. Kinda changes things. Guess your epiphany was a little different.”
Gage nodded. A lump formed in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow, but it wouldn’t budge. So he ignored it.
“I’ll go tell her I’m home.”
His dad nodded, as well. “You do that,” he said, and then sank back onto the sofa.
Gage saw the slight tremor in his hands before he clasped them tightly together in his lap.
And he wanted to break that damn glass against the wall all over again.
Or kiss Hope senseless so he could forget everything for just a few moments.
Because he couldn’t do either of those things, he settled for knocking on his parents’ bedroom door. “Mama?”
* * *
S
HE
HADN
’
T
BEEN
BOWLING
IN
...
a very long time. It wasn’t exactly high on her list of entertainment choices. But the bowling alley on the outskirts of town had closed to the public and donated all the lanes for the Cupid charity events. So she was standing with Lexi, Willow and Lanie waiting for her chance to get shoes.
And what paragons of fashion virtue they were.
Beside her, Willow sighed when the woman behind the counter handed her pair over. “Red, navy and black saddle shoes. What, exactly, are these supposed to go with?”
“Nothing,” the woman offered with a smile. “They’re ugly so no one will walk off with them.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Not great. Apparently ugly bowling shoes are in.”
Willow shuddered. “I beg to differ.” As a highly sought-after couture wedding-gown designer, Willow would probably know.
“I’m guessing the teenagers swiping bowling shoes aren’t interested in wedding white just yet,” Hope offered.
Her friend cocked an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised. I just got a call from an eighteen-year-old country music princess. She’s marrying a high-profile race car driver.”
“Beautiful. Maybe you can talk her into wearing these—” Hope held up her own excuse for footwear gingerly between thumb and forefinger “—as the perfect wedding accessory.”
“I’d die first.”
The woman behind the counter chuckled as they walked away.
Hope surreptitiously scanned the crowd of people milling around the twenty lanes. She wasn’t sure which would be worse—Gage showing up or Gage standing her up.
He’d probably consider it payback to leave her hanging. Part of her wouldn’t blame him. At least before last night.
That kiss changed everything, even if she didn’t want it to. As tired as she’d been, she’d lain awake forever, tossing and turning, trying to suppress the buzz of energy that rippled through her whenever she thought of Gage’s hands on her body.
She didn’t want him.
No, that was a lie. She
shouldn’t
want him. So why was she having trouble remembering that?
Possibly because the memory of that kiss was closely followed by the image of him on her sofa, broken and vulnerable like she’d never seen him before. But that should have made her resolve stronger, not weaker.
The man was a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the right moment to explode. She really didn’t want to be in the vicinity when he did.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t certain that was an option anymore.
If she didn’t have the story...she might have been the one standing him up. Leaving the house, her feet had been leaden, trying to convince her to stay right where she was. But something stronger—and she wasn’t entirely certain it had anything to do with dedication to her work—had her fighting her own instincts and moving forward.
Even now, though, she was contemplating the merits of leaving. The decision was made for her when Gage breezed through the door. He was so pretty. And dangerous. All cloudy eyes, darkly tanned skin and bulging muscles against straining black leather. He frowned, his sharp gaze sweeping purposely across the crowd. Until his eyes snagged on her and he jerked to a halt.
Heat blasted through her and her lips tingled. An expletive ricocheted through her, but somehow she managed not to let it out of her mouth. How was she supposed to concentrate when the sight of him sent her brain on a mental vacation?
The weather, always unpredictable in February, had turned on them. The collar on his jacket was flipped up against the biting wind that had blown in with the pregnant rain clouds. Behind him, droplets pattered against the glass door. Even from here she could tell his hair was damp, turning the coffee-colored strands almost black and making the ends curl against his neck. Had he gotten that wet walking to the door? Or had he ridden the Harley again...apparently without a helmet?
She’d bet money on the last one. Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t had a helmet with him last night, either, had he?
Fury simmered deep in her belly. Stupid man. Why would he take that kind of unnecessary risk? What would have to happen to make him realize he wasn’t bulletproof? Dying, that’s what. Had he given the people who cared about him any thought—his parents, sister, her...everyone in town?
Apparently not.
Hope purposely turned away from him and plopped down into one of the connected chairs at the lane they’d been assigned to. With some fancy talking she’d managed to get Willow and her date assigned to the same lane as she and Gage. Lexi’s group had already been full, but they did have the lane right beside them.
Lexi settled into the chair that backed up to Hope’s and leaned close. “How are you doing?”
They’d spoken briefly last night at the cocktail party, but not much. The guy Lexi had been assigned to was an outsider, but if last night was any indication, she definitely seemed interested in him. And Hope had to admit the guy—Brandon was his name—appeared equally enamored with Lexi. But then, why wouldn’t he be? The two of them had spent most of the night on the dance floor, seemingly absorbed in getting to know each other.
“Good. Fine.” Her eyes strayed to Gage as he sidled up to the counter and grabbed his own hideous shoes.
Apparently the innocent gesture gave her away. “Uh-huh,” Lexi hummed, doubt filling the sound.
Hope forced her eyes back to the knot she was tying in her laces. “Really. It’s fine.”
Gage stopped in front of them, grasped the ponytail Lexi had pulled her long blond hair into and tugged on it. “You and I need to have a friendly chat later, Piglet.”
Guilt clouded Lexi’s face, but she quickly cleared it away. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“Then perhaps you should practice not squealing.”
Lexi frowned. “There’s a difference between squealing and protecting, Gage. I’ve only spoken to Eli a few times, but even I know he wouldn’t make that phone call unnecessarily.”
“You spoke to Eli before last night?”
Lexi shook her head. “How do you think he had my number? When you were...” Lexi’s words trailed off and her eyes dulled.
Hope reached out and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. Lexi gave her a small, weak smile.
“Gone,” she finally said. “We talked several times. He was very helpful and hopeful. A good friend.”
The tight line of Gage’s jaw flexed, but he gave her a single curt nod, acknowledging that she had a point. “He is.”
Hope didn’t quite understand what was going on, but she wondered if it had anything to do with his late-night visit to her house. The middle of a crowded bowling alley was not the place to ask, though.
Apparently feeling her point had been made, Lexi jerked her chin up and turned her back on them. Gage sank heavily into the chair beside hers. His shoulders curved in on themselves for the space of a few breaths before he purposely straightened them.
The chair obviously wasn’t big enough. The hard seats were connected together, nothing more than a row of indented plastic bowls, which meant there was nothing she could do to put space between them. From his left, his wide shoulder and heavy thigh brushed against her. It was either let him rub up against her as he bent down to tie his shoes, or crowd as far into the opposite side of her scooped seat as she could.
She went with that.
She and Gage, along with Willow and her date, Max—an accountant who worked with the only firm in town—were assigned to one lane. The one connected to them had two teenagers who were obviously dating—they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—and another couple she’d never met. They were in their early twenties so she wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t crossed paths before. And if the awkward way they were tiptoeing around one another was any indication, they were seriously interested in each other.
A voice crackled over the intercom, “Everyone ready?” Suddenly most of the overhead lights dimmed, plunging the bowling alley into gloomy shadows. Another set of lights popped on in their place—black lights—making the swirling designs painted on the walls glow.
At the end of the lane the pin mechanism whirred. When it lifted Hope realized the pins were glowing, too. Moody music pumped through the speakers, thumping deep in her chest.
Gage grinned down at her, his teeth gleaming. Shrugging his shoulders, he shed the black jacket, revealing a plain white T-shirt that radiated light.
“This is going to be fun.” His voice was dark, and throbbed with a promise that her body determined had nothing to do with knocking down pins. Suddenly the middle of a Sunday afternoon felt more like midnight.
“I haven’t bowled in years.”
Standing up, Gage rolled his shoulders and neck, cracking it even as he reached for one of the balls waiting in the rack. Without hesitation, he stepped up to the line, settled the ball in his hands, walked a few steps and then let it fly. The rhythmic motion of his body was so smooth and mesmerizing that Hope wasn’t even paying attention to the ball rolling down the lane until he let out a whoop of victory and the clatter of falling pins registered in her ears.
Every last one of them rolled haphazardly across the floor.
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” she blurted out without thinking.
Gage stopped midstride on his way back to the seating pit. Loud enough for everyone to hear five lanes over, he said, “Getting you to say yes.”
Behind her, Lexi snickered. Willow smothered a laugh with her hand. Hope felt heat race up her face. Thank God it was dark and no one would notice.