

Maybe I Lied

Copyright 2020 K.C. Ale

Published by K.C. Ale at Smashwords

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Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

About the Author

Excerpt

Other Books by K.C. Ale
PROLOGUE

Ten Years Earlier

Jake

Pink manicured nails scaled across my abs and skittered up my chest over my shirt. Gretchen's other arm was hooked behind my shoulders, her bought-and-paid-for tits like stony, underripe melons poking against the side of my arm. We'd been casually seeing each other for a month, yet it was obvious she was desperately trying to claim me in some way every chance she got. I wasn't stupid. I knew the Reed name had something to do with her wanting to permanently set sharp claws on me.

At first, I found her blatant efforts humorous, maybe even a little sad. For such a pretty girl she was coming off as near desperate to land a man. Not just any guy would do for pretty Gretchen, though. There better be deep, silk-lined pockets to go with the man. Now all I could think about when I was with her was how to get rid of this clingy girl without making her feel like some scorned victim and going nuclear on me.

Ignoring her lustful attempt to get a reaction out of me, I took another swig of the mediocre beer, not even enjoying the cool foam sliding down my throat.

"Let's go back to your place after this. Kick back." The dreaded nails headed south. "I can go for some ice-cream. Lick if off your body." Leaning over, she darted her tongue at the side of my jaw. "What do you think?"

I snatched the determined hand away just inches from my dispassionate zipper. Setting down the half-empty bottle, I skimmed a disinterested glance her way. "I thought you wanted to hang out with your friend. Isn't that why we're here?" God knew I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her pleading yesterday.

She wanted to show me off, she'd confessed. And admittedly, in a weak moment, I forgot I was prepared to end this while she doggedly stroked my male ego. That was the only reason why I now found myself stuck in this noisy, packed sports bar catering to the college crowd who preferred cheap booze and cheaper women.

Blonde hair streaked with hundreds of dollars' worth of highlights flipped back one bare shoulder. Traces of a black lace bra peeked up above the turquoise tank top as she deliberately tipped closer. I supposed I should be more grateful she was wearing a bra this time and not have to pretend I gave a shit if other guys gawked at her.

She had on too much make-up again, I decide with minimal awareness, her brown eyes crafted larger in her spray-tanned face, her painted lips deceptively puffy with some severely bright colored lipstick. Mentally shaking my head, I wondered why I even bother. After the last few weeks, it was clear I didn't have anything in common with her other than a mutual appreciation for a good time behind closed doors.

"Maddy won't mind," Gretchen declared carelessly, waving off the notion with a flick of her wrist. "I'll just call her and let her know we need to cancel. She'll understand."

I shrugged, not giving a shit one way or the other. "She's your friend. Do whatever you want."

Apparently my nonchalance got to her. She rolled her painted eyes and suddenly shoved away from me in a huff. "Can't you even look like you care, Jake? I'm trying here, but the only constant thing I get from you is a good fuck and a cold-shoulder."

Here we go again.

One would have thought that was a good sign not to expect much from me. "Hey, I thought we both understood this isn't anything serious." Civilly, I schooled my frustration into a placating expression. After all, I wouldn't want her to blow up in my face and make a complete spectacle of ourselves. "We're having fun, aren't we? Why make it more than it is?"

She chose not to comment but snatched my beer off the table and proceeded to guzzle the rest of it.

Fine by me. I plopped back in the booth, skimming over the rowdy crowd to distract myself from the sulking woman next to me. Some Neanderthal sporting event was silently streaming through the mounted flat screens. Waitresses in skimpy black shorts and fitting t-shirts paraded around trays of brimming liquor. Overly loud rock music blared out to the casual mass of patrons determined to have a good time.

Why am I here?

I didn't fit in. I never did. At twenty-two, I just started my second graduate degree program. it wasn't that I was a grad student caught with a bunch of college freshmen out of mommy and daddy's clutches for the first time in their lives, because I was sure there were a few others like me here, though they were far and in between. Gretchen liked places like this, a place to socialize with her peers. Me? I'd rather stay home on a Friday night and work on my case study.

I despised college sports bars. Abhorred most college congregations. It just reminded me of how I was different from everyone else my age.

My gaze skimmed again, restless, edgy. Everyone seemed to be having a good time if the overly garish laughter was any indication, but four-dollar beers tended to have that effect on people. Add in the greasy finger foods and eyeball-popping bass, it was enough to make me wish I was back at the hotel.

Until my agitated gaze honed in on her.

Sudden mass of congested air backed up in my throat as I watched her breeze through the door.

Light bounced of long, shiny brown hair. Casual red skirt swirled around a slender, petite figure drifting on light, easy steps made its way through. Heedless of the men now swiveling around to follow her with eager eyes, she moved between the occupied tables, each natural stride reminiscent of a graceful, proud dancer. From this distance I couldn't tell the color of her eyes, but I found myself wondering as she made her way closer and closer to our table, a mischievous smile tugging at her beautiful full lips as her gaze landed in our direction.

As if from some distant fog I heard muttering next to me. The overly populated bar faded into a murmuring backdrop as I watched her stop at our table. Next thing I knew I was staring into a pair of gorgeous but curious light gray eyes.

Gretchen was up and giving the newcomer a superficial hug. The brown hair girl's eyes seemed to widen in surprise by the display of affection but didn't comment on it. As soon as they part Gretchen was latching possessively onto my arm. At some point I must had gotten on my feet as well, though I had no recollection of any muscles functioning.

All irritation suddenly gone, Gretchen peered at me with feigned adoration. Somehow I got the feeling I just stumbled into a show where it was written and directed by her, and I was just here to play a prop.

"This is my friend Maddy." Gretchen turned to the tiny angel, this mesmerizing, lively girl that just popped up out of nowhere, a tickle spring to her steps, and pocketed my breath like a newly discovered trinket. "Maddy, this is the guy I've been telling you about, Jake Reed." Gretchen smirked, for some reason pleased with herself. "Told you he's hot."

_Maddy_.

Maddy was looking at me, her gaze undemanding, wordlessly amused at my awestruck mind that couldn't be ripped away.

Did she find me funny? Even if she was laughing at me, I didn't care. For her, I could be funny. I could be anything.

"Nice to meet you." A dimple twinkled and her pretty lips lifted to light up her entire features. "Madison Volt."

How does she do it? How can anyone smile like that – like she knew all the bad things that can happen but doesn't let them faze her, for the deepest smile alone can undo them all.

Somewhere in my frenzied brain I registered a small, delicate hand holding out to me expectantly. This moment was so huge, so life altering, that for a split second I considered turning away from it and running for my life. But I didn't. I couldn't. A Reed never backed down.

Among the lost recess of my suppressed soul I knew this to be inevitable.

_I found her_.

As if in slow motion my arm rose, enveloping the slight hand in my much bigger, darker one. The moment we connected something flickered in her steady gaze but was quickly gone. She cocked her head as though suddenly finding something strange, her hair falling well passed her shoulders.

Some other female was yammering on but I didn't pay any attention to her.

Palm against palm. Everything else forgotten. Neither one of us seemed in a hurry to release the other.

I looked into the glittering silver eyes.

My isolated, untouched heart stuttered. Tripped.

Locked home.

This beautiful girl accomplished what no one, including myself, managed to do in years.

And I knew without hesitation, without a slip of doubt.

She was the one.
ONE

Present Day

Maddy

Since it was Friday, the venture home from the office from Downtown was irksomely lethargic. One year living in Asia had me both appreciating and resenting my earlier life in L.A. Frantically maneuvering in rush hour traffic, I definitely did not miss. Although roads were easily twice as crazy in Hong Kong, it undeniably made a difference enduring it as a passenger. Shooting out a harried breath, I mentally filed through my extensive wardrobe for an outfit for tonight.

As soon as I pull into my garage in Hollywood Hills, I dashed inside the house twenty minutes before Jake was supposed to pick me up, and he was habitually and annoyingly prompt. Breaking all kinds of records, I took an eight-minute shower and slipped on a royal blue cashmere dress. I was filling in my lips when the doorbell chimed. Two minutes before the scheduled time.

_Figures_.

In my bare feet, I padded out of my bedroom for the front door. "Jake Reed," I started in lieu of a greeting. "You're early."

A dark brow winged up. "Should I come back?"

I feigned contemplation for a beat. "Well, you're already here, so you might as well come in."

"Is that any way to act with the man who's about to take you to dinner?" With one hand on my hip, he brushed his lips against my temple. "Emm, you smell nice."

"Oh yeah. I brought back this amazing thing from Asia. It's called shampoo. I even splurged and got the conditioner."

"I see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"Clearly not," I retorted on a smirk, closing the door. "I'm spending the evening with you." Then flashed him a delighted grin at his look. "Oh, you know I love you."

"You had an unusual way of showing it – jetting off to another country for a year."

I nearly sighed. Sometimes he could sound like a nagging grandpa. "Don't start." Casually, I palmed his freshly shaven jaw as I brushed past him for my bedroom. "I'll only be a minute."

We fought about it, off and on, as soon as I delivered the news and for the entire time I was gone. He couldn't understand why I needed to be in another world for an amazing career opportunity when there were so many here. I was frustrated at his persistent and relentless efforts to get me to come home, to quit the lucrative project that had taken me across the globe.

I wasn't entirely surprised when Jake trailed after me to my bedroom as I retrieved a pair of simple gold hoop earrings from my jewelry case. Standing behind me at the dresser, Jake watched me on the mirror as I tilted my head and secured first one piece on my ear, then repeating it on the other. With no shoes, the top of my head didn't reach his chin. His palms gently cupped the top of my arms as we both studied our image staring back at us. I couldn't quite read the peculiar expression that met me without reserve.

There was a heat there. Some nameless enigma brewing.

My skin suddenly felt tight, tingling, but I gave him a curious smile at our reflection. "What?"

The large hands skidded down my arms to my elbows, eliciting attention to every sensitized detail of me. "You look beautiful."

Jake wasn't big on words, much less compliments. I caught my toes curling into the carpet and turned to him, effectively dislodging his hands, hoping the bland look I spared him didn't convey the sudden acceleration of my heartrate. "Thanks," I imparted, a routine response to a praise. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He only watched me steadily. "Hungry?"

"Starving. Let me grab my shoes and we can get going."

Fingers clasped mine just as I started for my closet, light enough to be nonthreatening yet willful enough to anchor me in place, embodying our unquestionable bond.

"What if we stayed in? Get it delivered."

I tilted my head, studying him. Something wasn't right, I decided as I gauged his deliberately mild expression. Granted, he wasn't big on socializing, but casual dinner out with me didn't generally fall into that category. "Everything okay?" When he only stared mutely, it was me who tightened on his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he reassured quickly but wavered for a beat. "It was just an idea. Go put on your shoes. I'll be outside."

Then my hand was released and he disappeared without another word.

_Weird_. Perhaps I had been gone too long and would need time to reacquaint myself with Jake's kaleidoscopic moods and idiosyncrasies again.

Within the hour we were at a trendy restaurant with a charming outside dining area. The day was gorgeous, even by Southern California standards, with a warm balmy breeze and a clear, cerulean sky that was just beginning to rest. Given it was the start of the weekend, Angelenos determined to unwound were out and about, milling through appealing storefronts or enjoying a meal out.

I let myself appreciate the moment, seated under an awning on the patio at one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people in the world. Jake was my rock, my unshakeable PBF – platonic boyfriend. We met during my freshman year at Suffolk University while he was an MBA student at Harvard, already minted with his first graduate degree, an MMH from Cornell, and had stay glued together even ten years after he first went out with my brief roommate at the time. That relationship had fizzled before it started, but for some surprising and unfathomable reason we'd hit it off, despite our overtly different personalities. We made it a point to remain friends even after he'd completed his second graduate degree and moved back to Southern California to fulfill his family's expectations.

Speaking of which...

"So how was dinner with your family the other night?" I asked casually just before spearing a cherry tomato and popping it in my mouth with relish.

"More of the same."

I watched, half amused and not with a little admiration, as Jake methodically sliced off a perfectly proportioned piece of grilled chicken with precision and casual calculation, his large hands skillful and efficient. His dark brown hair looked to have been finger combed right out of the shower and now gently waved and fell lazily, bronzing under the mild sun. Since he was focused on his meal with downcast eyes, I couldn't clearly make out their color at the moment, but I knew they were clear hazel and beautiful, often reminding me of vibrant champagne waiting to burst. Oh, and that mouth... those quiet, serious lips that could easily be the cause of global warming.

As I watched, one corner of that often admired mouth slowly tilted in one of his too rare but much coveted half-smiles. Without looking up, he asked, "See anything interesting?"

I gave him one of my easy grins. So I was caught gawking at him. So what? It wouldn't be the first time he'd captured the undivided, appreciative attention of a woman. The only difference was with me, he'd call me on it.

"Bend over and I'll let you know."

He choked, and I laughed so brightly a few heads turned. He managed to down a healthy swallow of water. "There's that sense of humor again."

"Oh, you know you love it."

"Without doubt."

I gave him my cheeky lip purse. "Admit it, I'm your sole treasure in life."

"My treasure, you are." Shaking his head, those golden eyes dancing with suppressed mirth, he meticulously carved at the chicken again, carefully setting the defined chunk aside on his plate so I could have at it when I felt like a taste of someone else's meal, which was often.

Lifting my nearly empty glass of wine, I took a sip and waited on the young, overly eager waitress refilling Jake's water to spare me a glance so I could tell her I'd like a second, but she only flashed Jake a sweet-as-pie smile as if he were alone in the bustling establishment and his name was Adam to her Eve. "Can I get you anything? Some more bread?"

With superhuman effort, I held back the snort that threatened to choke my dry throat, thanks to my empty glass. The bread basket was still brimming.

Jake gave her one of his polite, strictly for public-courtesy look. "Yes. More wine for the lady, please."

She blinked as if she just remembered who and where she was. "Of course," she mumbled and scurried off without looking in my direction.

Sometimes it sucked to hang out with Jake.

I did miss him though. Painfully. I'd been back a month now, but our long friendship felt just as solid, if not more.

After about fifteen minutes of detached silence, I was first to speak. "So, what have you been doing all this time without me?"

Hazel eyes flicked up to meet my gaze. "Waiting."

"Waiting?" I chuckled. "For what? Don't tell me for me because I won't believe it."

"Why wouldn't you?"

A shoulder lifted, fell. "No reason to, I suppose. Your life went on. As did mine."

Again with the stare, visually trying to wring the truth out. "Why did you?"

"Why did I leave?" My gaze dropped to my plate. "You know why." I was so sick of being asked that question. The answer was always the same, no matter who asked, and it should had been obvious. "I was offered a great opportunity, and I accepted it. End of story."

"You were offered the opportunity four months before, and you turned it down without a second thought. Then that prick packed up and left, and suddenly the chance to move to Asia was something you couldn't refuse."

For twelve months I was gone. Ran away to hide and lick my wounds. My dented pride.

It felt longer than that. A lifetime, perhaps, only more eye-opening. At the time, I both wanted and needed to leave. Wanted to explore, to get away, to be anywhere else. I couldn't think of anything else but to be far and gone. At the time, I felt there was nothing for me here, at least that was the desperate persuasion back then.

Of course, there was Josh, or the _prick_ , as Jake so eloquently called him at times. We were together for almost three years. I thought – hoped – that he was going to make us official. In fact, I'd overheard him whispering to someone on the phone about a ring size only weeks before the end. Then the offer he couldn't refuse came from Chicago, and he left me. Moved across the country rather than be with me. I had no idea what happened, how he made such a life altering decision without considering us.

The devastation was beyond words. Even to this day, I felt as though a part of me was abandoned to wilt.

I shifted uneasily in my seat, not for the first time regretting having shared the news of the initial offer with him. "What are you trying to say, Jake? That my world as I knew it ended with Josh, so I had to do something as drastic as moving to another continent?"

"Didn't you? You practically held your ring finger out as a reminder every time he was within five feet of you," Jake tossed out with blatant contempt of my doomed relationship. "Made me sick."

"I did not." I forced myself to meet his unyielding gaze. "We were in love. It was the natural next step."

He scoffed, "Hardly. You were in love with the idea of him."

"Well, I didn't marry him, did I?"

"Only because he wanted to whisk you away to live across the country, the moron that he was," he retorted bitterly. "Then what was the first thing you did after he left? You moved _out_ of the country."

Josh broke my heart, but I still felt compelled to defend him. "He wasn't a moron."

"He let a job offer get between the two of you. He was a moron. No, wait," he interjected, sparing me a derisive look as his lips curled in loathing. "You're right. He wasn't a moron. He was a fucking moron."

I leveled him with a look. "You never liked him. The whole time we were together, you never tried to be friends with him and were flat out hostile to him at times. Not even when things got serious and I was torn between my loyalty to you and commitment to him." God, why were we even talking about him? "Anyway, I haven't given him a thought for a long time, so can we please change the subject?"

He flicked dismissive fingers. "Gladly."

"Brandon called me yesterday," I announced and decided it was long past time for Jake's tempting meal. "We had quite an entertaining conversation."

A dark eyebrow lifted. "Oh?"

Umm, the chicken was tender with just the right amount of subtle flavor. Why did food always taste better at the other side of the table? "Your brother thought I could help. You know..." I trailed off, trying hard to fight back the escaping smirk. "Help find a wife for you."

The scowl that met me had me hastily grabbing the cloth napkin from my lap and frantically smothering the laughter.

"You think that's funny?"

I shook my head, but my denial was violently killed by the shaking of my body as I succumbed to the uncontrollable hilarity.

The scowl deepened. "I can assure you, my family does not share in your glee."

"Naturally not," I slurred from behind the napkin, knowing my eyes danced over the poor concealment. "The Reed heir needs an heir. After all, you're not getting any younger." Delicately dapping at the corners of my eyes, I returned the cloth to my lap and gave him the most sincere expression I could conjure up. "You're what now? Thirty-four? Your sperm count is diminishing by the day. So Brandon and I went through a list of mutually acquainted female hoping for one with good genes and childbearing hips, but, I fear, we've yet to conclude the discussion with success."

Jake stared at me for a full minute. I could almost hear the crickets as evening mentally fell into night. The lovesick waitress came back with another glass of red wine but plopped it in front of Jake, shooting him a warm, inviting glance. Since he was clearly engrossed with me and our conversation, she sauntered away.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

I shrugged and reached for _my_ fresh wineglass. "More than I'm enjoying your meal – and that's saying something as the chicken is really good."

Without a word he picked up his full plate and switched it for my cobb salad.

It wasn't a hint, but I wouldn't even pretend to want to protest. Not with Jake. He knew me too well. Why fight the obvious? With a happy sigh, I dug in.

"Jackson thinks it's time."

I sobered immediately. _Jackson_. Jackson Reed. The formidably successful, wildly dictating head of the Reed empire and Jake's uncompromising father. If Jackson was putting on the pressure, then Jake would reluctantly but obediently relent to whatever his father wanted. Jake knew his duties, which had been drilled and stamped into him since birth. In fact, Brandon liked to joke that his father commanded the birth of his two sons, and their poor, affection-starved mother had simply filled that order like a good little stork.

Sensing the significance of it, I rested the fork on the plate and leaned closer, giving Jake my undivided attention. "And what do _you_ think?"

"I won't deny he has valid points."

Of course. He wouldn't disagree with his father. "Why?"

"As you put it, I am thirty-four. I'm not getting any younger."

"Jake, I was joking."

"I'm not," he countered, deadpan.

No, Jake would never joke about shunning his obligations. He'd always done what needed to be done, whether it was for him or for his family. "So you're just going to go out there and find yourself a bride?"

He shrugged as though the method behind the madness was a minor detail. "Sure."

"Just like that?"

"It shouldn't be that hard, once I commit myself to the task."

"Commit yourself to the task..." I knew my eyes must be huge as I stared incredulously. "I see. Then have you met someone who... who fit the criteria?"

"Yes."

Slowly, contemplatively, I sat back until I felt the hard wrought iron of the chair against my back. This was news. I hadn't even known he was dating, and from my rather comical conversation with Brandon the other day, neither had he. But then again, while I told Jake every boring detail of my daily life from the aromatic taste of my morning coffee to annoying menstrual cramps, Jake was an extremely private person. "I hadn't realized," I offered lamely. "You never mentioned it."

"I don't believe she realizes it."

Because my thoughts were suddenly, strangely scattered as if they wanted to beat themselves away, I retrieved the abandoned fork just to busy my hands. "I see," I found myself saying again. "Do you love her?"

When I returned to making a dent of the meal, Jake, too, started on the salad. "Like no other," he confirmed offhandedly.

"But she doesn't know."

"She knows."

"Is it mutual?"

A beat passed as he considered my question. Then, as though there hadn't been a moment of hesitation, he said, "Yes."

"That's great." Swallowing the now tasteless bite, I reached for the dark liquid to wash it down. "Tell me about her." _And why have you been hiding her?_

"What would you like to know?"

"Don't be vague, Jake. If she's captured your elusive heart, she must be very special."

"Indeed." One of his rare smiles appeared. "She has a great sense of humor. Pleasant, easygoing personality. Smart, though she'd never admit it."

Hmm... sounded like there should be a bone clamped between her teeth while she desecrated his backyard for a hiding place. "She sounds lovely," I commented easily instead. "When can I meet her?"

"You already have."

That gave me pause. "I have?" My mind raced through all the single women I'd ever been introduced to while in Jake's company. Between the various and frequent business functions, the company parties, the social gatherings, there were just too many. "When?"

"Many years ago."

"Where? What does she look like?"

"Here and there." Reaching for his own condensing glass, he took a sip before answering. "She's petite. Fair skin. Light brown hair. Gray eyes."

The general, ambiguous description could be any number of people. It didn't ring a bell. I nearly scratched my head. "What's her name?"

"Madison Francis Volt."

The glass froze halfway between my mouth and the table. I gave him a minute to deliver the punchline. When there was nothing, I heaved out a breath and carefully set the goblet down. "Very funny. Ha-ha, joke's on me."

"She's also kind hearted," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "understands me like no other, and is probably the only company I enjoy for more than a few hours without effort."

I only stared at him, waiting for him to get serious.

"She's a wonderful friend and a soothing companion," he went on to fill my sustained silence. "No one can tolerate my moods the way she's demonstrated she can. She's met my family and knows what they're about. More importantly, she accepts my flaws and loves me despite - or because - of them. She's clearly my other half."

On to the game now, I pursed my lips, because if you couldn't beat them, join them. "Don't forget beautiful."

Considering, his forehead creased. "Beautiful?" Done with my salad, he pushed it to the side and met my charmed gaze. "No. It's not a word I would use to describe her. Not the proper b-word anyway."

"Oh really?" I leaned back against my seat and crossed my arms, giving him my best stare down. "And what b-word would you use to adequately describe her?"

"Breathtaking."

Hm... two rare compliments in as many hours. Something was definitely off. It wasn't that I needed to hear the professions, sometimes a mere look of deep appreciation like he often had with me communicated more than some flippant, tired words, but since it was a rare treat to be on the receiving end of one of Jake's hankered praises, I couldn't help softening, even if I knew he was full of shit and was yanking my leg. I fluttered exaggerated lashes at him. "Why, Mr. Reed, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were coming on to me."

He didn't smile. He didn't even blink. The air shifted between us, tightening, so thinly yet noticeably that it forced my breath to catch. There was something in his eyes I'd never seen before, a stubborn yet potent determination that refused to budge. He'd always been too somber, headstrong, single minded when it came to what he wanted, but at that very moment as I met his patient, unwavering gaze, I shifted in my chair in disquiet. I got the impression he was forging something between us, head on.

"I thought we were beyond that, to be honest with you, but if courtship is what you want, Maddy, I'll give it to you."

"How are we doing over here?" The waitress seemed to appear out of nowhere and glinted at Jake, all perfect white teeth and batting baby blues.

My mind was wheeling, to say the least, so I had no idea what banal exchange was said between her and Jake. All I could wrap around was that Jake wasn't putting me on, and was, quite simply, telling me he intends to use me to satisfy his father's matrimonial expectations of him.

Romance was not in Jake's dictionary.

And apparently, unbeknownst to me until now, neither was sanity.

"That's insane," I declared abruptly before I could clip the words.

Startled, our blonde server flinched at my outburst and swung her mesmerized gaze from Jake to gape at me.

"I don't believe that's on the dessert menu, Maddy," Jake supplied, all unwearied assistance. Then, without taking his eyes off me, he held out the miniature menu to the stunned waitress. "She'll have the chocolate soufflé. Espresso for me, thanks."

The blonde hurried away. Well, I finally got her attention. Sitting forward, I hovered over the table so he wouldn't miss my hiss. "That's insane!"

"I disagree," he said calmly. "We're quite compatible. I don't see why it would be out of the question."

"Because you don't love me."

"Of course, I do."

I waved off that easy acquiescence. "Not like you're supposed to. You're not _in_ love with me."

"The emotion you speak of, Maddy, is not only impractical, but it also only exists in ideal. I care about you. Deeply." Visibly frustrated, he ran a perturbed hand through his hair. "Don't ask or expect me to pitch pretty, enchanting words to you. You know that's not who I am."

"I love you, Jake."

"I'm aware of that."

"But I'm not in love with you, either."

"I'm aware of that as well. That's why the two of us makes sense."

I scoffed. "Make sense? What is it about us that makes sense?" Reclining back, I eyed him with open criticism. "You're stable, reliable, somber, and very much the introvert. I'm the complete opposite. You'd be perfectly content with a glass of wine and a good book on a Saturday night, while I'm out hopping from party to bar." The whole thing was so absurd that I rubbed my forehead, still desperately hoping for that concealed punchline. "I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

Those stable, reliable, somber, and very much introverted eyes studied me and, I was pretty certain, mentally dissecting me. So serious. Then in a voice so low I had to strain to focus on the words, he said, "You studied art history in Suffolk, but went into interior design because you craved creativity and couldn't fathom doing anything that was repetitive, structured, or limiting. Loyalty is important to you, and you wouldn't tolerate anything less from those you deem worthy, including yourself. You enjoy a night out, yes, but there are times when you'd rather be alone or spend your time with a selected few." That steady gaze dropped to my wide cowl neck lavender cashmere sweater and the heart-shaped pendant on a simple platinum chain. "That necklace was given to you by Bruce Finn, though you dumped him over eight years ago, claiming he was too scattered and immature. My opinion at the time, though you never asked, was that he couldn't give you the boundaries you needed but didn't realize you wanted. You kept the trinket for the simple reason that you liked it, so why toss it? That's the practical side of you. There are many facets to Madison." A shoulder shifted, his gaze shifting to a point beyond me, lost to whatever thought was racing through him, though I couldn't make out anything from his impassive face. "That was just an intro. I could recite your favorite color, music, movie, but those are rudimentary things."

My jaw wasn't hanging, but it was a close call. If he'd gotten up and jiggled from table to table, I didn't think I'd have been more speechless. _Wow_ was my first thought. He paid attention. Off the top of my stunned head, I didn't think I could come up with one person that would've described me quite so acutely, not even my two brothers. And no, he wouldn't waste my time or his effort into naming such basic things as my pet tune. Anyone with a social media presence could look that up.

What could I say to that? _Thanks, I'm flattered you listened_? That wouldn't even be accurate since I didn't actually verbally tell him those things about me. Should I make a joke of it? _That was great. Now do the next table!_ That wouldn't be giving him the credit he deserved.

The gaze that had wandered off returned to meet my flabbergasted, blank one. "Should I go on?"

Unexpectedly uncomfortable, I opened my mouth but snapped it close when nothing came out. Our perky server saved me by producing a steaming mug and the aromatic dessert and arranging them neatly between us. Needing a minute, I kept to myself as she set down a couple of spoons, black cloth napkins, and the leather fold with the check on the table. I felt more than saw Jake's fervent inspection, most likely putting his considerable rational powers into figuring out my mental processing.

Before the waitress had another chance to grace Jake with a trademark blinding smile, he handed her his credit card without glancing at the bill and kindly thanked her for her attention to our wonderful meal.

"I hate it when you just pay for things," I began as soon as we were alone again, starting on him being easier than the unnerving discussion we were having. "You're always doing that. Believe it or not, I can afford a meal now and then."

"I invited you out, so I'm paying for it."

"You do that even when you weren't the one who asked," I countered and reached for a spoon. "And given your little dissertation a few minutes ago, I'm sure you know that annoys me."

He picked up the cup of espresso and casually said over the lip, "Get over it."

The warm, sweet smell of the soufflé prevented me from huffing a retort. I took a healthy bite and almost purred with playful sin as sweet chocolate melted on my tongue. "Hmm." Before I'd swallowed my spoon was already dipping in for tasty seconds. "Man, this is so good. You need to try this."

"Okay."

"Hey!" Before I had a chance to shovel in another mouthful he wrapped his hand around mine and redirected the morsel to his anticipating mouth. "Get your own spoon."

The close-mouth grin had me fighting back my own. On an approving sigh, he gulped down the stolen dessert before dismissing his own utensil. "It tastes better coming from you."
TWO

We left the restaurant with barely a soufflé crumb left on the table. From years of habit, I linked a companionable arm through Jake's as we took a leisurely stroll through West Hollywood, forgoing valet for the moment as we glimpsed through colorful display windows of trendy stores in modern buildings. Jake hated shopping, whether it was with purpose or simply browsing, but I knew he'd tolerate it for my curious benefit.

The late October evening was starting to cool, yet it was inviting, enticing a good crowd to enjoy the Friday outdoors. We dodged and milled around other window and serious shoppers, and I basked in the cozy security of Jake's company. He didn't rush me, but I had to smile to myself as I pulled him, grudgingly, aside so I could admire a lovely maroon scarf swathed around a mannequin. "It's such a pretty color."

"You never wear scarves."

"I might start."

Knowing he didn't stand a chance, Jake stepped back from the display. "Shall we go in then?"

I shook my head. "Nah. It's not me," I confessed and bit back a giggle as he heaved out a heavy breath. "You know I don't like having things wrapped around my neck like that."

We returned to the valet that serviced the restaurant where we had our early dinner to reclaim Jake's car. We weren't out and about long, but I could tell that Jake was getting antsy to get going. He never cared for crowds, and though he was constantly expected to make an appearance where people hovered and cooed over a Reed, he avoided if he could at all help it.

Jake maneuvered the SUV with easy skill, though it was clear his mind wasn't on the task. Jake's brooding moods never bothered me. Those who didn't know him well had accused him of being standoffish, but I knew better. I long accepted him as private, thoughtful, and at times distant, but he was also sincere, warm, and furiously loyal to those he felt had earned it. That was probably why we got along so well. I didn't try to change him, and he appreciated me for who I was.

I kept my gaze on the passenger side window as he hopped on the freeway, watching the top of balding trees whoosh by at thirty miles an hour. Even weekends were no match for L.A. traffic. Lacking anything else to do with my hands, I began fiddling with the buttons for audio. Immediately a brusque male voice provoked the listening audience on some news radio station. Without bothering to check with Jake since I knew he wouldn't mind, I went in search for decent entertainment.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

My finger seized its constant jabbing when I heard Green Day blaring out of the speakers. "Where?"

"The beach? It isn't too cold."

"I thought you wanted to go back to your place for a movie."

"It's early yet."

It wasn't exactly beach weather. Though not quite fall, the biting air was definitely a sign it was lurking around the corner. Jake knew that after spending four winters in Boston, I didn't care for being cold, and he wanted to go for a beach stroll? Something was definitely off. There was only one way to find out. Besides, I believed in rolling with the punches. "Sure."

By the time we made it there and parked, the sun was weakened for its nighttime nap. The slanted rays illuminated the deserted, eerie lot. Not a single seagull flapped by or called out as Jake came around for my door. Hesitantly I stepped out and shivered at the slap of chilled ocean breeze.

The sea was a gray infinity stretching out on the horizon, the sun kissing the water with red and orange. I trusted Jake without reservation, but as I shuddered in damp, salted air, I couldn't help but wonder which one of us was the crazier one at the moment.

I was in one of my favorite dresses, no coat, venturing out on a coastal walking tour in four-inch stilettos. Those ankle-strap heels halted where paved parking lot met harsh, gritty sand. I was staring down at my trembling lavender-polish toes when the weight of an oversized jacket landed on my shoulders.

"Thanks." That cozy male scent enveloped me. My gaze automatically went to Jake's pristine gray button shirt even as I was jabbing my arms into his sleeves. They cloaked my hands and then some, so I pushed them up. This was L.A., so it never really got that cold. Still, it was probably in the low sixties at the beach, and his dress shirt wasn't much to ward off the unfriendly temperature.

I watched him step out of his shoes. "Aren't you cold?"

A small smile greeted me. "I'll be fine." The socks followed the way of the shoes as he dumped them in the back of his car. He frowned down at my heels. "Those won't work."

Before I could respond he was crouched in front of me, his large but deft hands making quick work of the buckle on the side of each ankle. "I guess not," I quipped and used his shoulder for balance as I freed my feet. The cement was like gravelly ice on my bare skin. "You do this often?"

"What?"

Now he was folding the legs of his trousers up his sinewy calves. "Lure unsuspecting women to the desolate beach to do God knows what with them."

Straightening up the length of me, he was a mere breath from me, towering over me in my cold, bare feet. I could almost hear his steady heartbeats syncing with the sound sea. All I could do was stare as the hazel eyes darkened and he seemed to breathe me in for several stops. Bumps shot out along my suddenly sensitized skin.

He held out a hand to me. "Scared?"

"I have two older brothers." Accepting his wordless invitation, I curled my fingers loosely around his, pointedly ignoring the odd moment. "I don't scare easily."

"I didn't think so. Come on then."

The way he was looking at me, it was almost... tender. Maybe it was the trick of the sunset, I decided as my toes dug into the cold, dense sand. There was no one around as far as the eye could see. The gentle lull of the waves beckoned as we abandoned civilization. Despite my reservation about the bitter air, the hint of shadows that teased nature, I felt myself relaxing, softly soothed by the hypnotic gusts of surfs.

Jake steered us toward the tides where foams of seawater gushed and receded, dancing over loosely packed earth. Beneath my toes, grit gave way to moist tufts of beach.

"This is nice," I conceded in a low voice as we stood and admired the ethereal beauty, Jake's hand warming my palm and fingers. Natural wonders deserved a respectful tone. "Lovely, really. You can see this view from your house. That's one of the reasons I always loved your place."

"I'm sure my talented interior designer had something to do with it."

I bit my lip, trying not to smirk. Considering I was the talented interior designer he was flippantly referring to, I couldn't argue with that. "Perhaps."

We started moving again, his fingers tugging at mine. Sensing an unusual restlessness, I let him, figuring whatever it was that was preoccupying him this whole evening would come out when he was ready. I learned long ago you couldn't rush Jake. When he wanted something, he'd get it, but he'd do it on his own time, using his own methods.

We wandered along the cadenced shore for a few minutes, enjoying the rare serenity. At one point he squeezed my hand, and I thought that was his signal for release. That proved not to be the case when he readjusted and smoothly linked our fingers.

He was looking straight ahead, but I glanced over, glad to notice his shoulders relaxing with each step we took.

"I'm glad I'm back. Asia was nice. But my family, you... this is where I should be," I confessed quietly. "I did miss you, you know? More than I wanted to." More than I thought was possible.

His gaze sought mine. Held. "Then don't run away next time." Stilling, his brows furrowed in concern. "You're shivering."

"Newsflash, Jake, it's cold out here. I'm in a dress, and I don't have muscles galore to shield me from the harsh elements."

I might had embellished that a little. Although Jake routinely worked out and was well toned, he was in no way beefy. With his height and striking physique, he resembled an athlete in his prime rather than a muscle bulging bodybuilder.

Ignoring my jibe, he brought me close, swathing sturdy arms around me as though I belonged in them. With anyone else, this might had been awkward, but not with Jake. A contented sigh escaped as blessed heat seeped into me like an electrical current, and I burrowed into the source, relishing him.

"Better?" It was a murmur against my temple.

I nodded, tipping back my head to look up at him. My gaze rested on those striking tawny eyes that seemed to radiate a distinctive ardor of their own. The tip of his nose brushed along my cheek. Undemanding. Natural. I didn't question it. Jake had always been demonstrative with me. He may be a man of few words, but when he cared about someone, he showed it. At least, he was that way with me.

Wasn't that why Josh spent two years making it a point to despise my PBF?

Was it weird that soft male lips slid down my jaw? They felt good, so I didn't see the harm in letting my lids drift down. His breath was warm along my flesh and I quivered for a different reason than the intrusive weather. It might had been the wine making me so uncharacteristically complacent.

And when he fitted that amazing mouth on mine, just a leisurely sample of lips, nibbles that teased and tempted, my enlivened heart stuttered for several beats.

I found myself smiling against him, fingers curling against his solid chest. Then his mouth was gone, and I opened my eyes, snatched by the heat in his gaze. There was a deep ache at the center of my chest, a heavy pressure I couldn't name. It had been a long time since I felt anything even remotely close in that hollowed region.

"You just kissed me." I let him read the indulgent amusement in my gaze.

"I've kissed you before."

I only shook my head, enjoying him without pressure, without strains. "Not like that. Perfunctory pecks aren't the same. What you just did? That was..." I paused, searching for a word that encapsulated but settling for the closest thing. "Sweet."

Dubious brows hiked up. "Sweet?"

"Sweet," I confirmed. "Just like you."

"You think I'm _sweet_?"

"Of course." By that scowl on his face, I was guessing that wasn't what he was aiming for. "What? You don't want me to think you're sweet?"

He muttered something under his breath. "I want you to think I'm hot. Sexiest man alive. Walking female fantasy."

The giggle that burbled out of me happened too quickly for me to smother back. " _Jake_. Seriously?" I considered myself a relatively intelligent person. At his grimace, I patted his chest, attempting to sooth the awakened beast. "You're all those things, but we're friends. What happened just now?" I shrugged, trying to convey the detachment I was anxiously imposing. "You just missed me, that's all. I missed you, too. It's all goo—"

I was wrong. He hadn't kissed me.

NOW he was kissing me.

And _holy shit_. I felt it all the way to my tingling toes.

The liquid heat of his tongue was darting along the seam of my mouth, flicking at the swells of my lips. His scent, his taste all around me. It was Jake, yet it wasn't. Not the Jake I knew and was comfortable with physically, mentally, and everything in between. My pulse quickened, palpably beating against my chest. Soft, persuasive lips stroked along mine and they parted, wanting to be devoured by the promising light, and I shuddered as he leisurely tasted me, finding the earlier protests and deftly teasing them into submission.

His taste. I'd secretly wondered. It wasn't something I ever admitted to anyone, including myself. Until now.

At some point his fingers were in my hair, angling me for total and absolute surrender. It was the most freeing, glorious feeling to let him direct where he wanted me to go, to ride along with him without reserve and just enjoy. My tongue skimmed along his before I sucked it. He groaned and plundered, thrusting it in and out of the moist heat of my mouth in blatant erotic simulation.

Hands that were in my hair began a sensual claim of my body, sweeping down my neck as I was tipped further back and I had to loop my arms over his wide shoulders to hold on.

He broke from my mouth to take in my reaction. Waiting. Always waiting.

Not at all steady, my fingers flew to my flushed lips. I could still feel his mouth on mine even with him standing a foot from me. I knew my eyes were huge on my face. "Wh... what was that?"

Instead of answering my question, he posed one of his own. "What did it feel like?" he demanded rhetorically as he met my stupefied gaze, the words a hushed, winded confession. "Don't you think it's time, Maddy?"

I had to give my stumbling mind a shake. "Time for what?" Was that breathless sound my voice?

"For us."

My gaze darted on his features, at the firm, stubborn set of his jaw, the heated intensity of his eyes. "You're serious."

"You know I am."

A gust of wind whooshed by and I negligently anchored a hand at my whipping hair, physically retreating back from him. Jake was the most persistent person I knew. Once he had his mind set on something, nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stand in his way.

I wasn't faking the bewilderment I was sure he was seeing, and something about his uncompromising, insistent tone wasn't sitting well with me. "God, Jake." I shook my head. Did he think I was like the hundreds of women vying to be Mrs. Jacob Reed. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You can't deny this was something we both knew would happen eventually."

I paced away, not ready to meet his shrill and determined gaze. Deprived of his heat, I had to wrap my arms around myself to preserve what I could even as the chilled air picked up speed. "I don't know what to say," I said again. I felt him behind me but didn't turn around. Icy tide foamed at the tips of my toes. "I just got back, Jake. I'm not ready for this." Weary, my shoulders sagged. "And you're my best friend."

"I want more."

The turbulent waves were higher now, rising up the shore like monsters roused by moonlight. "How much more?" I asked quietly.

He fell silent. Then, "Everything."

I shook my head in denial, in plea, I wasn't sure anymore. "I can't give you that."

"You will."

I threw up my hands. "It wasn't a challenge, Jake. I just don't have that much to give." Whirling around, I jabbed a finger at his center. "And when did this become an issue? You never once said anything, and all of a sudden I'm supposed to fall in line because you said so? Then what? What's everything? Marriage? Family? 'Til death do us part?"

It was obvious I was mocking the whole idea, but his hard expression wasn't catching on to it. "To start."

My lips parted in shock. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't even blinking. What he was suggesting wasn't even close to being in my radar, not after all this time. Something unnamed was shifting between us, tightening, so thinly yet noticeably that it forced my breath to catch. There was something in his eyes I'd never seen before, a stubborn yet potent determination that refused to budge. He'd always been too somber, headstrong, single minded when it came to what he wanted, but at that very moment as I met his patient, unwavering gaze, I shifted in my bare feet in disquiet. I got the feeling he was doggedly forging something between us, head on, whether I was ready or not.

"Why now?" I searched his face, not sure what I was hoping to find. "After all these years, why now?"

"It's time," he said simply.

I stood there, utterly flabbergasted. "That's it? Because it's time?"

He sighed. "Jackson reminded me the clock is ticking."

"Your _clock_ is ticking?" I held back the snort that threatened. "Like what, your biological clock?"

Despite the weight of the discussion, the scowl that met me had me hastily smothering the laughter with my hand.

"You think that's funny?" When I only laughed harder, he shook his head, his gaze on the empty sea. "My father is anxious for me to move on to the next phase of my life."

Clearing my tickled throat, I sigh. "Jake—"

"This isn't something I'm willing to let you dismiss," he cut me off in his boardroom voice. "I want you to consider what I said."

Was there any chance I wouldn't think about this? It'd been in the back of my mind ever since the easy suggestion first left his mouth. The question was, would I acknowledge it for what it was – his snap decision to comply with his father's urging and settle for the first tolerable person that popped into his head – or play it down so that we both had no doubt the idea was utterly ludicrous.

With Jake's offhand proposition, I wondered if he'd planned the day around an attempt to persuade me of this new turn of events.

Scooping back my hair at another gust of damp breeze, I kept my gaze on the agitated sea, watching each frothy swoop and retreat not a foot from my freezing toes. "Have _you_ considered what you said?" I turned it on him in a low voice.

"When have you known me to make brash assessments? Especially with something as important and life altering as the person I intend to commit my whole to? Maddy." His voice firmed. "Would you please look at me? Maddy." He repeated when I didn't immediately comply. "I require your undivided attention."

Bossy. Was that a way to woo a woman? I let myself turned to him, measuring his profile. "Believe me, you have it."

"Talk to me."

"What would you like me to say?"

"Whatever's on your mind."

"I'm not sure what's on my mind," I snapped out. "I'm not sure what to think. I never thought of you that way. I'm sure it was the same for you. So how can you expect me – us – to switch gears and start discussing marriage and children when I'm not sure I ever want to get married after... well, after?"

After my last serious but disastrous relationship.

He took his time responding, assessing me with steady, resolute eyes as though he was a breathing lie detector machine. "Haven't you?"

"Haven't I what?"

"Thought of me that way, as you put it."

My brows drew. "We're friends, Jake. We've always been just friends. Why would I want to jeopardize that? Would _you_?"

Determined, his head tilted, as though amused I would think that was an issue. "We're not going to jeopardize it. We're only going to enhance it."

I knew my eyes were huge on my face, taken aback by his easy confidence. "How can you be so certain?"

"We've known each other a long time. In fact, we know more about one another than probably some of our family members. We're well-matched. We have the same values with similar background and upbringing." Seeing an opening, he took a step closer. "Friendship, marriage, they're what the parties make of them. We wouldn't be going into this with blinders on, and our expectations would not be ruled by foolish emotions. Already we'd be at an advantage."

I shook my head at his cynicism. "Sounds like you've thought about this. Call me old fashion, but shouldn't there be love?"

"There's love."

We'd been through this already. "Not the kind a marriage is based on."

"Is that the only thing bothering you?"

I wanted to shout that should be enough to stop anyone, but instead I reply quite evenly, "No, that's not the only thing."

When it became obvious I wasn't going to supply additional information voluntarily, he inhaled deeply, held it, and let it out on a whoosh. "What else?"

"Sex."

"Okay." He held up his hands, let them drop. "What about it?"

"Can you imagine us together that way? After all these years?"

The look he sent me clearly read: You're kidding me, right? "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Our gazes met only for a split second, but it was long enough for me to see the heat that turned his eyes into molten gold. "No, never mind." I quickly averted back to appreciating the rushing ocean. The thought of sex with Jake had bumps shooting out of my tingling skin and had me studiously adjusting the jacket.

"I certainly plan to do more than just imagine it."

For the love of... we were so not having this conversation. "Yeah, well... imagination's all you're going to get."

"We'll see about that."

I gave him a look, which he completely ignored. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What does it sound like it means?"

I threw up my hands. "I wasn't mocking you, Jake. I'm just saying it wouldn't be right. I don't sleep with friends."

"Anyone ever tell you friends make better spouses?"

The words were casual, nonchalant, but I had the feeling he truly believed them.

Not that I disagreed. Having feelings rooted deep in years of bonding and support should certainly be better than trying to make things work with someone you hardly know. I wasn't a virgin or a scandalized prude, but this was Jake. He knew and understood me, and I relied on him to be my champion whenever I screwed up another relationship with yet another man. What would happen if he became one of those men? Worst yet, how would I survive if I screwed things up with him as I did with the others? The lost would be so devastating I couldn't even continue the thought without the threat of panic and shattering tears.

"I'm not willing to take that chance," I murmured, somehow already feeling like we were losing who we were with each other. "I'm sure there are plenty of other women who would jump at the chance to be Mrs. Jacob Reed."

"There's no one else I want."

The coarse, petulant words could've been uttered by a defiant teenager after being denied his first crush, but by the harsh way he was staring west and the granite set of his firm jaw, there was clearly something more to it.

"Jake." Reaching over, I laid a comforting hand on his. "You mean so much to me. I don't want to risk changing what we have."

He didn't take his eyes off the water when he curled his fingers around mine. "You're going to have to trust me, Maddy."

A weary breath deflates my lungs, warring with the weighty air. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. "Can we please just go?"

"Maddy."

"Please, Jake. It's cold, and I'm tired." I needed time to think. "I'm still trying to get used to being back, picking up my life from where I left it, and this discussion wasn't something I was anticipating."

He looked prepared to argue his case, but then he must had thought better of it. With a sigh, he fastened the jacket more firmly around me. "You can't run away from it, Maddy. Not this. I won't let you."
THREE

Pfft. Run away. I didn't run away. If there was one thing that annoyed the hell out of me more than chocolate covered dried fruit, it was when people accused me of running away.

What did Jake know anyway?

He had no idea what I went through with Josh. He was always busy with R Hotels and Resorts International. Too busy for love. So busy that he had to list it on his agenda as a task.

And to think I actually missed him for a year while I was away.

Pfft!

On a huff, I cranked up the treadmill even more, ignoring the perspiration racing down my already damp temples.

And if he thought I was going to fall in line with his father's outrageous decree, he had another thing coming.

After all these years, he thought he could just snap his fingers and I'd do whatever he expected. Marriage? Kids? How about some fucking flowers to start? Was that asking for too much?

I thought we were beyond that, to be honest with you, but if courtship is what you want, Maddy, I'll give it to you.

Taking the shortcut had never been Jake's style. Not professionally, personally, or anything to do with life. That meant that for him, I was a done deal, and he was taking his time, playing the bachelor all these years, instead of trying to woo me.

I called bullshit.

I had no intention of being the gullible pawn in his father's game.

God, I was such an idiot. It was a good thing I hadn't set my sights on him all those years ago. Okay, maybe I did... for like a minute. It soon became apparent to me that Jake wasn't someone interested in relationships, and I wasn't a friends-with-benefits kind of girl. He had one ambition and one ambition only: to prepare for his anticipated reign over RHR.

Evidently, part of that was to produce an heir for the Reed empire.

Outwardly, he was too sober, not easily ruffled. Dedicated to his studies, to achieving his degrees. We hit it off right from the beginning, to the surprise of anyone who knew us. It made things a tad awkward for me and my roommate, and I eventually had to move to a different hall. Often, I wondered why he continued to hang out with me, letting me drag him to sweaty basketball games and cheap bars, where he clearly didn't fit in with the rest of the mostly drunken college boys. Perhaps I was his diversion, the person to call on when he needed a break from the plots to conquer the universe, but whatever it was, I turned out to be the continuous envy of all the girls at the hall.

We grew close. Very close.

He once told me I made him feel alive, made him see life wasn't just about duties and obligations, that I taught him how to laugh and to enjoy humor. Of course, he'd had a few beers at the time, so I didn't take his woozy ramblings to heart.

I learned I could tell him anything and everything, without hesitation or regret. He was the first person I called when I got a flat tire and the last person I spoke to at night. We heedlessly lingered in my dorm room or at his suite at R Hotel where he stayed during his time in Boston. For hours on end we did nothing significant but simply watched TV, studied, or chatted. Jake was my ready defender when frat snobs scoffed at my _meaningless_ interior design major. I never had to explain to him my passion of integrating the environment to people. He just respected. Appreciated. He was my go-to person, my best friend. He dropped whatever he was doing to be by my side if I so much as hinted I needed him. It was natural for us to do things together, to loiter at trendy coffee shops or browsing through busy museums on weekends.

Day trips turned into weekend getaways, and soon we were vacationing regularly and visiting with the other at our families' homes during breaks. San Francisco wasn't that far from L.A., and Lord knew Jake had the means to travel everywhere and anywhere he wanted.

And we became an inseparable item. A platonic one.

We fought too. Viciously. Usually with me hurling something at him. I discovered that I could never stay mad at him. And Jake? He was the most patient person I knew next to my dad. It took a lot to rile him, but when it did, _look out_.

A few months into our friendship I showed up at his hotel suite unannounced, just because I was bored and wanted company, and a half-naked girl with bleached blonde hair opened the door. Cheekily she told me he was in the shower, but she'd be happy to deliver a message for me. I wasn't heartbroken, but it did make me open my eyes and accept that, if I wanted to be a part of Jake's life, it was going to be companionably and nothing more. I never told him about that incident, and I never saw that smug girl again.

It was a good thing I never slept with Jake – not that he'd ever even attempted to get in my pants - or I might had been that girl, quickly dismissed among all the others, and would had completely missed out on this heart-gripping and affectionate bond, worth so much more than any romantic relationship I ever had.

When he was compelled to move back to L.A., assuming his familial responsibilities with RHR, I feared that was the end of our devoted friendship. I had never been more wrong.

Though the distance did dampen our regular routine, our smartphones became our best vice. It was Jake who enticed me to move to Southern California after I finished my studies, ensuring my decision by securing an intern position for me with a small design firm a month before I graduated. My family didn't mind too much. There was a time when my dad and brothers were certain I'd stay in the east coast permanently, so they were thrilled when I accepted the relocation. At least I was in the same state. With my brother Jonathan already here, overseeing the SoCal offices, it just made it that much more sensible. I since moved on from that company, not wanting the Reed name to be an influence as I carved out my career. It was hard enough being a Volt to not have someone automatically make predisposed assumptions.

And then I met Josh.

Josh and I were crazy about each other. Other than the question of his relocation, out of the two years Josh and I were together, the quiet antagonism and sometimes brazen opposition between him and Jake were the most challenging issue to overcome. I was the rope in their vicious and stubborn tug of war. After pleading with Josh for what felt like several hundred times to try to get along with Jake, if only for my sake, he had tossed out that he would, if the _territorial fucker_ – his words – would back off and not meddle in our relationship and quit acting like a _jealous, manipulative stalker_.

The issue of who was more vital to me between Jake and Josh never resolved itself even as Josh boarded the plane and left me behind without a backward glance. Jake was the one who held me while I bawled my eyes out after he moved, threatening to charter a flight over and tear him to shreds. I hadn't heard from Josh since.

Slowing to cool down mode, I snatched up a towel and patted my face. When my phone vibrated with Chelsea's pretty face smiling at me on the screen, I hopped off the machine and grabbed it.

"Hello there."

"Aundie Maddy!"

The piercing, excited shriek had me grinning, holding the phone away from the vibrant squeal for a second. "Charlotte-bear. What are you up to?"

"My mommy says to come over."

"Come over?"

"Home to eat." Some shuffling, then Chelsea's voice replaced her daughter's. "Hi, honey. Jon's going to throw some steaks on the grill tonight. You want to come over?"

"Sure. What can I bring?"

"How about you bring Jake along? Plenty of food to go around."

I hesitated. After last night, I wasn't sure that was a good idea. Besides, it was the weekend. He probably already had plans to bang the night away with the skin of the hour. "Maybe next time."

"Okay. Be here at six?"

"See you then."

I was rounding the hallway on my way to the shower when the peal of the doorbell had me reversing direction. Tossing the phone and towel aside, I peeked through the side window and found a college kid attached to earbuds, bobbing his head as he waited at the other side of the door with an overburdened paper bag.

Frowning, I opened the door. "Yes?"

Freeing one ear, he announced, "Delivery from Wholesome Deli."

I gave him an apologetic smile. "I think there's been a mistake. I didn't order anything."

It was his turn to frown. With one available hand, he shifted the load and peered at the receipt stapled to the bag. "Jacob Reed... to be delivered to Madison Volt?"

My brows furrowed at that. "Oh. Umm. Okay. I guess it's for me then." Taking the offered sack – which was heavier than it looked and smelled heavenly – I glanced about for my purse. "Hold on a sec. Let me get you something."

He was already turning away. "Taken care of, ma'am. Have a good day."

"What is this?" I mumbled the question to myself and set the weighty bag on the table. It was obviously not flowers. Untying the pretty ribbon knotting the handles together, I fished out the two aromatic cartons. And burst out laughing when I flipped the lid to reveal chocolate-chip pancakes. Shaking my head at the silly gesture, I switched to the second box and found an array of colorful fruits with fresh cream in a small plastic container.

When my phone lit up, I knew who it was before I saw his image on the screen. "What are you up to?" I started without preamble.

"Just thought you might be hungry."

"As a matter of fact," I put in, sitting crossed-legged on a chair, and grabbed the plasticware from inside the bag, "I was. Thanks for breakfast."

"Glad to be of service." There was a smile in Jake's voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. Woke up a couple of hours ago, spent an hour on the treadmill, and now I'm licking amazing cream off a plastic fork."

"Lucky fork."

"Hmm," was my noncommittal response to that. "You?"

"You know, the usual."

Which meant he was working on a Saturday morning. "How tedious," I teased. "You know the old saying. All work and no play—"

"So play with me."

I huffed out a laugh. "I'm afraid the rules of your game are too risky for me."

"Oh? What if I promise you'll win every time? We both will."

"What kind of games did you have in mind?"

"We're both adults," he held suggestively. "I'm sure we can come up with something. Preferably something with that amazing cream you're so fond of licking."

"You're feisty this morning," I observed offhandedly around a raspberry. "Did you get laid last night or something?"

"Maddy." The lighthearted tone was gone. "You can't be serious. I was with you last night."

I shrugged even though he couldn't see me. "Hey, most booty calls occur late night."

"And you know this how?

"From my late night booty call yesterday, of course," I retorted readily. "Duh."

"That's not funny."

I swallowed the bite of pancake and snickered. "It'd be a little bit funny if I could see your expression right now. If I had to guess, it would be that great big scowl that sends everyone around you scrambling for cover."

"Everyone but you," he asserted. "You can see my expression anytime, sweet. You know that."

"I know," I acknowledged with a verbal shrug, snapping close the container. I shoved everything back in the bag. "Hey, I got to jump in the shower. Thanks again for breakfast."

"Come over tonight. We never did get to that movie last night. I'll even let you pick."

The titter sounded more like a sigh. "Not toni—"

"This afternoon," he cut me off before I could turn him down. "Didn't you just lecture me about working too much? So give me a reason to leave the office. I'll pick you up."

"Jake, I just saw you last night."

"Is there a limit?"

"Come on," I reasoned, pointedly ignoring his derision. "You don't need me as an excuse to take a day off. You do just fine without me."

There was an audible exhale. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Snubbing my question, he rationalized instead, "It's just a movie, Maddy. Something we've done together hundreds of times."

Was I the one making us awkward? Between the two of us, I was the one always going with the flow, rolling with the punches, yet I seemed to be uncharacteristically wavering over what would had been an acceptance to an outwardly easy, casual invitation to hang out.

It wasn't a marriage proposal, for crying out loud.

"Okay."
FOUR

It was just passed two-thirty when we finally decided on which movie to stream. While Jake was in the bar-kitchen stashing up the munchies, I toyed between selecting a romantic comedy and a tearjerker just so I could enjoy watching him fight back justified male irritation. Though I didn't have the heart, the thought did perk up my funny bone.

Bright afternoon sun streamed through picture windows doted architecturally throughout Jake's man cave. The walls were painted a deep olive green so that when the lights were off and the thermal shutters drawn, the eighty-inch curved TV in the darkened room, coupled with the top of the line audio system, gave the viewers the true movie-going experience. Instead of theater style seating, however, Jake opted for a tan L-shaped sofa that would be too large for most people's living room. Round leather ottomans were strategically placed for maximum efficiency and comfort. A glass and steel bar took up residence at the corner near the entry, boasting tap beer, a pantry that could rival a corner convenience store, a well-stocked, full sized stainless steel refrigerator, and an old fashion popcorn popper.

"Any movie preference?" I called over to Jake, who had his head in the opened fridge.

"Whatever. I don't care," he shouted back from his hiding place.

Skimming through the options, I settled on a manly man, all explosives and limited dialogue action flick.

"Okay, done." Unlike the many times I'd been in this room doing exactly what we were about to do, I settled at the far corner of the couch as opposed to the center. That should be a hint to Jake that although I was still with him, after all that had been said, I needed some distance to digest. "You need a hand?"

"Nope." Rounding the long sofa, he plunked crammed bowls down on the center ottoman – near my usual seat. "Got it under control." He flicked a cursory glance at me and did a double take. "What are you doing over there?"

"Relaxing," I pointed out carelessly.

To prove it, I kicked off my flats, wiggling those recently pedicured lavender toenails, stretched my legs along the open chaise end of the sofa, making sure my black skirt was modestly tucked between my legs, and propped a throw pillow against my back. In the seated, reclined position, the above-the-knee length skirt grazed me at mid-thigh, but that couldn't be helped now.

I lifted a brow at his frown. "Problem?"

Biceps strained against cotton as he folded his arms across his chest. "You tell me."

Shrugging, feigning complete innocence, I gave him a bland smile. "All's well. Let's start the movie."

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching. If he thought he could stare a confession out of me, he didn't know me as much as I thought. Then without further ado, he reached for a tablet on one of the ottomans, pressed a few buttons that had the shutters gently whirling, completely blocking out even a hint of sunlight, and the lights dimming gradually until the only illumination was from the giant screen.

When the opening credit filled the dark room, he took the bowl of popcorn and settled at the center of the sofa. "I'd offer you some," he began just as he tossed a kernel in his mouth, "but then one of us would have to get up, and I'm much too comfortable in my side of the world. Hmm... loaded with butter, just the way you like it."

I wasn't sure he could see me since he was a good fifteen feet away, but I narrowed death-ray eyes at him anyway. "The words of a gentleman."

The enigmatic half smile was more felt rather than seen. "Never claimed to be one. You want some, you're going to have to get your ass over here and get it."

My lips twitched. "You're just annoyed because I didn't fall all over you."

"Sweet, _when_ you fall, I'll be there to catch you. In the meantime," he enunciated over my ready protest, "I promise not to do anything you don't want me to. Now do you think we can just enjoy the movie? I'd be honored if you bestow your exquisite company instead of a distant echo of a familiar, though very much adored voice."

His formal invitation had me snorting back a laugh. "You're so full of it. But since you asked so nicely..." I unfolded from my corner, padded over the plush area rug in my bare feet, and plopped myself down next to him. "Happy now?"

"The happiest." Amused rather than annoyed, he thrust the bowl in front of me. "Popcorn?"

"Why, yes, that would be lovely."

It wasn't long before the action on the screen kicked into high gear. Thumping, violent crashes emitted from unseen sources from all corners of the room, blasting like the central air from the wide vents, and I found myself automatically leaning close to Jake and the heat he naturally radiated like rays off the sun.

"Cold?"

I nodded without taking my eyes off the onscreen clashing. Moments later a delicate cashmere throw was tucked on my lap. Grateful, I snuggled into it and rested my head on Jake's broad, sturdy shoulder with a mumbled thanks. Beyond the buttery smell of popcorn and sweet, salty aroma of chocolate covered pretzels, the clean, familiar scent of Jake penetrated through my senses. I had this fierce, unexplained urge to bury my nose in his neck and just breathe him in.

"I'm going to miss this," I whispered. Giving in, I lowered my forehead to the crook of his neck. The floor and walls rocked with the sound of explosion, flashing up the room with fast flickers. I shut my eyes, shut out the movie, the sound, everything except the person next to me. "Being with you. Like this."

"Am I going somewhere?" he asked dryly.

The teasing note in his voice only made the unexpected sadness took hold. "Things are going to change once you get married – as it should. No woman with a right mind would want to share you with another woman. Not like this." There was no doubt in my mind he'd be married soon. He had a duty to fulfill, and once Jake set his mind on something, dedication and tenacious resolve were the only options until he attained his goal. "You'll be busy with R Crop, as you are now, but you'll also be starting your own family. Raising kids. Doing the family thing when you're not working." Wistful, I picked at the throw draped on my legs, knowing that life – people – evolved. Friends inevitably drifted when paths diverted.

Rapid gunshots and frantic shouting resonated, the only sounds that were heard for a good solid minute. Then in a tone that was like a student deciphering a perplexing passage in a textbook, he uttered, "So let me get this straight. You won't consider us together because you're afraid it would change things, yet you will readily accept the alteration of our relationship once I put my ring on this phantom woman's finger. Do I have it so far?"

Frowning, my fingers stilled their absentminded plucking. I hadn't thought about it in quite that way, but I had to admit it did sound bewildering from that perspective. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"Maddy." My name was an escape of vocal air. "I don't know if I'm crazy about you or just plain crazy."

I was forced to straighten when he shifted to face me, dark brows pinched in weariness. In an alternate world I would be smoothing my thumb over his forehead, soothing his concerns. In the real world, I clasped my resigned hands in my lap.

"Why can't you believe I'll take care of things? Make things right. No, make things better for us." Fingertips skimmed at my bangs, brushing them aside while he pinned me with his sharp, probing gaze. "You. Me. Like this only infinitely more exquisite. Every day."

I'd been burned by that elusive ideal already. The mere hint of it had me in a faint shudder. "Let's just watch the movie."

"Maddy." My name was an escaped exasperation. "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Compare me with that fucker Josh."

"I'm not!"

"But you were thinking about him. About what he did."

Peeved that he could read me without trying, while half the time I wondered if he would share a casual thought with me, I folded my arms under my breasts. "You forget I was seeing someone after him."

Just like that, the shades slammed shut and I found myself staring at an impassive face. "Levesque," he stated coolly.

"Dominique was a great guy," I blurted despite the sudden chill that frosted the air more than the powerful vents. Dominique was the Client Relations Manager for the L.A. office of Volt Ventures, Inc. and reported to Jonathan. He was also the brief and forgettable rebound guy after Josh. "He was good to me, and I was curious to see where things might go."

Not exactly, but I wasn't about to encourage more male gloating.

"You went out with him two times," he bit out. "That hardly constituted 'seeing someone.'"

"Oh really?" I countered and made a point of focusing my attention back to the forgotten movie, affecting disinterest at his challenge even though I was seething. "And what makes you the expert? Your countless one-nighters?"

He scowled. "I know when someone's not right for you."

Of all the patronizing, arrogant crap that ever came out of his mouth, this didn't top the list, but it was getting there. "You knew nothing about him," I strained through clinched teeth. I wasn't even sure why I even brought him up.

A snicker, humorless and superior, grated my prickled skin.

"I knew he was sharp, ambitious, and couldn't find his testicles with an interactive GPS and a tour guide." As if he didn't have a care in the world, he mimicked my nonchalant pose, long arms stretched along the back of the sofa, one ankle tapping a silent beat atop the opposite knee. "I bet he got permission from your _daddy_ first before he dared to ask you out."

"You are so wrong about him," I protested heatedly.

A brow rose. "You think so? Call your dad. Ask him." A hand synchronized with the ankle and drummed at the cushioned sofa back. "Prove me wrong."

Suddenly hot, I tossed the soft throw aside. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"If denial works for you, then go with it," was his cheeky response.

Jake knew I wouldn't be able to stand it for long, wondering if he was right, needing to know the straight truth. It would drive me crazy and live in the back of my mind every time I thought about Dominique, not that I thought about him at all until now. Jake was likely mentally counting down the seconds for my fingers to start punching out my dad's number. The ass.

Without a word I darted off to retrieve my phone from my purse left at the gleaming kitchen counter. With a glare, I leaned against the bar and gave Jake my back before selecting the necessary commands just as the room plunged into abrupt silence. Jake had muted the TV.

The phone was cheerfully answered on the second ring. "Hi, precious."

"Hey, Dad. Are you busy?"

"Never too busy for you. What are you up to?"

From his tone alone, one wouldn't be able to tell my dad was sixty-nine. His deep voice was strong, vibrant, and quick to respond to anything thrown at him. At over six feet with a full head of white hair, he was quite the imposing image as Chairman of Volt Ventures. I got my less than statuesque frame from my five feet three mother, a former up and coming ballerina before she was swept away by the tidal wave that was the charming, persistent Vincent Volt. Their love story ended tragically when my mom died, but after grieving for a couple of years, my dad started dating my mom's closest friend from her days as a ballerina.

"Nothing much. Just hanging out with Jake. How's Lily?" I ask of my stepmother.

"Missing you, as always. When are you coming up?"

A trip to San Francisco had not entered my thoughts lately. "Soon," I gave him loosely. I cleared my throat and could kick myself for the thoughtless, nervous gesture. "Listen, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"You know Dominique Levesque at VVI L.A? Maybe Jonathan mentioned him to you?"

I could hear the uncertain hesitation at the other end of the line. "Yeah?"

"We went out a few times before I went to Asia."

"Yeah..." he said again as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Well, I never asked, but I just wanted to know that it was okay. You know, with him working for VVI and all."

A low chuckle warmed my ear. "You mean was it okay for a staff to date his employer's only daughter?"

I made a face even though he couldn't see me. "Something like that."

"Don't worry about it." My dad's easy dismissal had alarm bells ringing in my head. "I approved of Dominique Levesque, as long as it wasn't anything serious. It wasn't, right, precious?"

A rustling behind me had me glancing over my shoulder. Jake was scooting onto the leather barstool at the other side of the bar, blatantly, shamelessly eavesdropping from across the gleaming counter.

I wasn't a fool. If I lied and told my father Dominique and I picked up where we left off and were now planning a future together, that'd probably be the end of his career at VVI. If Jake heard me confirm Dominique was someone I casually socialized with, I'd have to live with his smugness for months.

In the end, the truth won out. "Nothing like that. We were just enjoying each other's company."

"That's great," Vincent allowed. "He was an ambitious, intelligent young man, and I'm sure he treated you just fine." The description so mirrored Jake's earlier offhanded account that I glowered at the phone. "And if he hadn't," he went on, "I trusted Jonathan to take care of it."

"Dad!" Rolling my eyes, I gave up any pretense of privacy and swiveled around to face Jake. "That's just wrong." I heaved out a breath. "When did Jonathan tell you about it?"

"Actually, Dominique called me... a little over a year ago? About a month before you left, I think. He wanted to make sure there wasn't a conflict of interest or any some such. I told him the same thing I just told you. 'Keep your hands off my little girl and regard her as the lady she is or there'd be consequences.'"

_Shit_. My heart sank along with my head, the latter falling onto my waiting forearm atop the cold, metallic countertop, one hand still cradling the phone to my ear. My loose, long hair curtained around me, temporarily sheltering me from Jake's knowing, prying eyes.

I was twenty-eight, nearly four hundred miles away, and my overprotective father still warned off my dates. Worse yet, that date felt it a prerequisite to seek approval from that overprotective father for something as innocent as dinner and the symphony. It was as if I never aged from my frustrating teenage years.

Jake was right. Dominique's balls were unmapped.

"I see," I mumbled into the bar.

There was a short pause at the other end of the line. Then, "What brought this on?"

How old did I have to be, I mused, how far did I have to move for undisturbed freedom? "Just reminiscing," I sighed instead. There was no point in mentioning my accustomed grievances. In my younger, rebellious years, I'd tried, many torturous and fruitless times. I was the baby of the family, unexpectedly born to Vincent and Francis Volt in their forties. To top it off, I was born without a penis. After years in a testosterone crammed home, my mother was beyond thrilled. It was a fact I also relished, but between a domineering parent and two much older, equally vexing brothers who felt they had a right to dictate to their baby sister, heaven forbid I should try to live life as a woman. "I gotta go, Dad. I'll call you later."

Long, reassuring fingers brushed back my hair, combing through it, lulling me to lift my exasperated gaze. Reminded that I wasn't alone and could liberally bask in self-pity, I straightened and the big hand dropped.

"Okay, precious. You're coming up for Thanksgiving, right?

_Do I have a choice?_ "Of course."

"All right then. Take care of yourself. Love you."

"Love you, too."

"And say hello to Jake for me."

"Will do."

There was a glass of red wine on the counter in front of me when I disconnected. I snatched it up and gulped it down like Gatorade before dumping the phone back into my purse. "Dad says hello." Very carefully, I set the empty glass down. "Go ahead, say it. You have my permission."

"Say what?" The masculine voice came from behind me.

"'I told you so.'"

"I'd never say that." He didn't have to. It was part of the molecules that floated in the unseen regions. "Your father's a good man."

Compared to Jackson Reed, I supposed my dad was an exceptional parent, but right now I wasn't in the mood to discuss his merits. "He has his moments," I offered instead.

"You're upset." Hands so big they amply draped my shoulders to curve around my upper arms kneaded my tense muscles. "About spineless Levesque or your father, I wonder." Strong, skillful thumbs molded up the back of my neck under the fall of my hair. I clamped my lips tight to keep the contented groan from escaping. "Both, perhaps? Or maybe you're mad at me for guessing the truth."

"All of the above." The condemnation was betrayed by the tipping of my head, delighting in his easy, fluid fingers. "I especially hate it when you're right."

"Don't hate it. Embrace it."

His easy quip had me fighting back a smile. "You're an ass."

He only chuckled. "Would an ass give you a neck rub?" The mind numbing massage halted as his hard arms wrapped around me, effectively cocooning me against the world. Lips so butterfly soft I wasn't sure I didn't imagine it fluttered on my temple. "Are we good?"

It felt so good to lean on someone. My back was flushed against his solid chest, my arms confined to my sides by his imprisoning ones, and I let my head drop back onto his shoulder. "It's fine," I responded to his query. "It wasn't like I was in love with Dominique. My dad loves me. I guess that's the important thing. As for you," I murmured as my lids gave in and drifted, "as much of an ass as you are sometimes, what would life be like without you? I don't know. I wouldn't want to find out."

"You never have to."

Oh yeah, that was definitely his mouth. Supple, warm lips grazed my temple again. Lengthy fingers splayed across my stomach, his hands so enormous on me they covered my entire abdomen, the tops just grazing the gentle slopes of my rapidly full, tingling breasts.

"Jake?"

"Umm?"

Dragging my eyes open with the intention of putting a grudging halt to the temporary insanity, my gaze was caught by the sight of a naked woman on the soundless and abandoned TV. I must have stiffened, because Jake's head bopped up and followed my dumbfounded gaze.

The band of arms loosened around me. "What the hell?"

"That was my thought," I said, riveted, as the brunette actress rode hard on the leading man of what I had assumed was an action flick, her impressive breasts a beacon on the gigantic screen. There was action all right.

"Nice tits. Ow." He rubbed at the spot where my punishing elbow connected with his unsuspecting ribcage. "What?"

"They're breasts. Now turn that off."

The air puffed out of him. "It's just starting to get interesting. TV off," he commanded in a firm voice. The monitor immediately flickered off. Male arms enveloped me once again.

"Figures," I muttered. "What's with you today?" I asked, tapping the top of the hand suctioned to my stomach to indicate the octopus imitation. He wasn't usually _this_ tactile, even with me. A few inches higher and I would have a human bra.

"You don't like it? Tell you what," he breathed into my sensitized ear, "I'll let you feel me up in return."

Laughing, I slung off his protective arms – knowing full well he'd let me – and faced him, looking a question at him. "You okay? You're acting weird."

A dark brow winged up. "Weird?"

"You know." I gestured a hand between us. "All touchy-feeling."

The other brow joined its mate. "You have a problem with me touching you?"

Now I was the one feeling weird. "Of course not." Weird in a good way or bad, I wasn't sure yet.

"Good."

A hand reached out, grasped my fingers lightly. So lightly that I didn't resist when he tugged me against him. Then I was surrounded by Jake. The firm, unyielding muscles, his soothing yet virile scent. I breathed him in, his hands on my back to clasp me close. I pressed my cheek on his chest, savoring the clean male scent, the soft cotton of his shirt against my skin, and the calming _thump-thump_ of his heart. I missed this spot, the comfort, the warmth, and the steadfastness of being held tightly against him. He gave the _best_ embraces.

Home.

"God, I missed you," I confessed in a low voice against him. I could feel his chin resting on the top of my head. "More than I did anyone else the entire time I was away." It was a truth I'd accepted while I was living alone in another country. After the shock and the heartbreak, after spending weeks resolutely convincing my dad and two brothers that I knew what I was doing, that moving to Hong Kong for the Mavis Gorman project was exactly what I needed, after months of fiercely attempting to completely immerse myself in the new world, in the new life, it was my platonic boyfriend Jake I missed the most.

My rock.

Easing back, he gazed down at me, his unsmiling face studying the verity of my impromptu admission. As much as I denied it, to him, my family, or anyone who asked, he knew the real reason behind my sudden and lengthy departure. I needed to escape, as far as humanly possible, from all that had reminded me of the devastation of Josh Fieldergast.

It wasn't Dominique Levesque that was my rebound. It was Hong Kong. And through it all, it was Jake's acute absence I felt the most. Not Josh.

The corners of those delicious lips slowly tipped up. "Yeah?"

Clearly, a man of exceptional communicative talent. "Yeah."

"Then what are your plans to make it up to me?"

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the humor fighting to leak out. It was always a treat to have the lighthearted Jake. Playing along, I retorted, "What do you want?"

The breath constricted in my lungs and froze as his gaze lowered to my mouth. Cautiously, one big hand reached up to cup my stilled chin. The room, the air, the earth wheeled in slow motion and the only thing holding me rooted to the spot, my center of gravity, was the hard man imprisoning me. His clean, soapy scent filled me, reeled me closer to his focus, tugging at my stability until I was falling into something I didn't dare find.

The warm skin against my face was rougher than I expected and utterly engulfed me. My lips parted, not able to take my eyes off him as he watched his own thumb sweep at the delicate groove just below my bottom lip. My muscles quivered at the slight caress and his intense awareness. The air heated between us. Something in my stomach twirled and fluttered as my lips tingled in invitation, in inescapable recognition of the inevitable.

"You know what I want."

"Jake." His name was a fraught puff of heated oxygen gushing out. "I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" When I only shook my head, he stared off into dead space for a second. In a voice he reserved for dealing with challenging employees, he asked, "What about our discussion?"

Not this again. "Jake, seriously?" With some reluctance, I stepped back, rubbing a tired hand on my forehead. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that's what you want. We've been friends forever." My hand fell to my side as I gave him a beseeching look. "Why me?"

"I've told you why."

"Okay." I held up that hand and began ticking off with my fingers. "We care about each other. We're compatible. We're great friends, therefore we'd make great husband and wife." Two fingers remained standing and I wiggled them. "Did I cover all your points?"

He folded his arms, more than a little irritated. "If you want to simplify and diminish my perspective, then yes, I believe you summarized them."

If I didn't know any better, I'd had thought he was hurt. The stoic expression gave nothing away, but his body language was more hands off than confrontational.

But I did know better, and this was Jake, and he didn't have a need for pesky human emotions.

"I like you in my life. Spending time with you. Talking to—"

"Touching you," he interjected firmly.

"Yes." I couldn't deny that. "That's wonderful too, but there has to be..." What? Limits? "Propriety."

He only inched closer, his outraged face looming over me. "You didn't mind my hands on you a moment ago."

It hit me then. The persuasive kisses. The hot, lingering caresses. He was trying to prove a point. Because I argued that I couldn't see him that way, he made an effort to change my view.

Either he really wanted me to begin considering his proposal, or his bloated ego was outraged and needed to be soothed. What better way to do that than to seduce the person that refused to see you sexually?

"No? Well, I mind it now."

Leaning in, he ensured I see the challenge in his fierce, intense eyes. "Or what?"

Or what, indeed?

"You're going to call _daddy_ for help, _princess_?" he mocked.

"That's _precious_ ," I fumed. The jerk knew I despised being called princess, which was what my father used to call me until I was sixteen when I begged and bargained for him to stop. He finally did. The revised version was the current endearment: precious. "And you're an ass."

"You've said that already."

"Oh, for the love of..." I threw up my hands. "I don't have time for your bruised ego right now, Jake. I have to run."

"What are you talking about? You just got here."

"I've been here all afternoon." I waved off his protest and snatched up my purse. "Seriously. When did you get so clingy?"

" _Clingy?_ " He was visibly aghast by my description.

I nearly laughed at the hazel eyes quietly spitting fire at me. Oh well. He'd get over it.
FIVE

Charlotte was bobbling around on my lap, stretching with all her little might in an attempt to reach the rolls at the center of the table. Stubby fingers strained so hard she would had toppled over the spread if I hadn't been anchoring her in place. Just as I was about to help the determined girl out, Chelsea came in, expertly juggling a bowl of mashed potatoes and a saucer of green beans. She found a spot for both on the already brimming table and, without so much as a glance, automatically grabbed the basket of bread and plopped it in front of her delighted daughter.

The house was a medley of delicious scents. Lights were dimmed for ambiance, but not so much that a eighteen-month old would be frightened. No music was needed when the soothing, rhythmic gush of the Pacific Ocean outside lent the perfect, tranquil beats. Through the sliding glass doors, I could see Jonathan by the grill, flipping steaks in between making whacky expressions and sending the enchanted girl sitting atop me into fits of giggles.

"You want butter with your bread, Charlotte-bear?"

Dark, crooked ponytail swayed when she shook her head, holding up the prized roll like a trophy. "Jam!"

I made a face. "For dinner?"

"Dinner, snack, lunch, breakfast, makes no difference to a toddler," Chelsea carped, but there was affection when she gazed down at her daughter, setting a dainty plastic bowl of strawberry jam within easy reach. "You okay with her?"

I waved off her concern. "Have a seat. Take a load off. You haven't stopped running around since I got here."

She blew out a breath long held too long. "I think I will." Sighing in relish, her slender figure plopped down on the chair next to me and Charlotte.

"If you need a sitter on the weekend, I wouldn't mind spending more time with my niece. Date night, whatever. I can come over."

Chelsea's face bloomed. "Really? Jon would like that. He's been pestering me about trying this new restaurant, but it's not the kind of place you bring your kids."

"Sure, just let me know." I glanced down at the happy, crumb and jam speckled face. "I already missed a year."

"Yet another reason why you shouldn't jet off to another country for so long."

"Not you too. I got it nonstop from Jake, can I get a break from you?"

"Speaking of which, how was your dinner with him?"

"Great food. Great company. It was... well, great."

There was that knowing smirk on her. "Um-hm. I just bet."

I slanted her a look. "Considering it's Jake we're talking about, I wouldn't read too much into it if I were you." Intentionally, I skipped sharing with her Jake's left-fielder proposition. Pinching a green bean, I crunched on the stalk, contemplating how much to reveal to her. It wasn't like Jake's suggestion the last couple of days was earnest - probably just a result of too much food and time away from each other - and since there was no harm done, what was the point of mentioning it? "We went for a walk at the beach after, and that was it."

"He's in love with you," Chelsea tossed out, expertly wiping strawberry jam from her daughter's face with a napkin. "Anyone with eyes can see that."

"He lob you!" squealed Charlotte, clutching at the crumbling roll with a chubby fist and waving it around. "I lob you!"

Peering down sideways at her adorable features, I tap a finger at her nose. "Aw. I love you, too, Charlotte-bear."

"Daddy lob me, too," my youngest niece countered, showing her missing teeth as she beamed, the sparkle of mischief so much like her father's. "And mommy too."

"We sure do, jellybean."

"And daddy lob mommy. He..." She puckered up her little mouth comically. "Mommy all de dime."

Chelsea flushed, her fair skin glowing prettily. "Charlotte, that's not something we bring up in front of people, remember?"

Impish Charlotte only grinned. "Aundie Maddy? My daddy says... my daddy says... me git broder or sisder." Plump palms clapped together, sending bits of desecrated bread flying. "Yay!"

The mortified look on her mother had me laughing so hard I was wiping my eyes. I'd been back for nearly a month, but today was the first day I felt more like myself and back on my game without the help of eight gallons of potent caffeine.

"Are congratulations in order?" I asked when I could finally manage.

She shook her head, black hair flying. "Charlotte's just being silly. I mean, we're not opposed to it. We're always... that is to say, we just... let nature take its course."

"And there's a lot of _nature_ going on."

If she got any redder, I might have to call the fire department.

Next to Jake, Chelsea was my closest confidant even before she met my brother. I was glad she and Jonathan worked out their differences and got their act together. Never mind that I was part of those differences. Hey, she was my friend, and I knew how my brother was with women. Well, how he was before he fell head over heels for unassuming but lovely Chelsea.

"Don't try to change the subject. We were talking about you and Jake."

"Me and Jake?" I chuckled at the suggestion, letting Charlotte's stubby fingers tinker with the sparkling bracelet on my wrist. "It's been me and Jake forever. Our friendship hasn't changed, even with the physical distance." At least, I prayed that's the case. "Besides, Jake doesn't believe in love. He's..." I hesitate, mentally rifling for the right word without putting him in a harsh light. "He's focused on his duties, on the Reed empire. Those things include a wife and kids, but only because they're a part of those duties."

Chelsea's expression told me she wasn't buying it. "He might not admit it out loud, but trust me, he has feelings for you. Now that Josh..." Her words died at my sharp look. "Now that you're single again, don't you think you should give the two of you a chance?"

"I've been single for a while, Chels."

"And you were out of the country the whole time." Her pretty features softened. "I want you to be happy, Maddy. Don't you think it's time you moved on?"

"I did move on. All the way to Hong Kong."

"You weren't moving on. You were running away."

"That's not fair," I argued. God, yet another person accusing me of running. Couldn't a person get away for a while without these presumptuous judgments? Since Charlotte's fascination with the diamonds escalated to trying to tug it down my wrist, I slid it off and onto her much smaller one. "I was offered a rewarding, promising project," I repeat – yet again – to Chelsea. "I accepted it because I knew it would do wonders for my career."

"And moved halfway around the world a mere two months after Josh left for Chicago."

"What does Josh have to do with my friendship with Jake?"

"He's not after friendship, Maddy." She ran a hand down her daughter's hair as though she still couldn't believe she was a mother. "Didn't you see him at the party? He didn't let you out of his sight."

That would be the welcome home party my family threw for me when I first got back. I knew she was referring to Jake hovering around me like an overzealous bodyguard, this large, quiet man never more than a foot from me the entire time. I merely attributed that to the extended amount of time we were apart, and he was just glad I was back.

You can't deny this was something we both knew would happen eventually.

"That was weeks ago. Jake's always been... I don't know." I considered it. "Protective, I guess."

"Honey, that wasn't just protective. That was downright territorial. He was basically marking his territory."

Territorial. That was the word Josh had used in disgust to describe Jake during our time together. I wasn't sure what that meant when it came to me and Jake. He never made me feel like I was his property,

Something in my heart tripped, but I ignored it. "Chels, you've seen us together before. You know how he is."

She was shaking her head before I was even finished. "Not like that. I'm telling you, there was something different about it. I always knew there was more to him than he let on, at least with you. Maybe because you were gone for so long, but mark my words, he's not letting you leave again. Not without him."

"That's ridiculous."

"I just want you to be opened to possibilities. He's been good to you all these years, the one that stuck by you no matter what."

"I'm not disagreeing with you. Jake's my rock, my anchor. I'm just saying that he isn't one to standby and let things happen around him. If he wanted me that way, he would've made it clear years ago. Hell, Chels, we've known each other for a decade. Don't you think he's had plenty of opportunities to say something?"

Her brows creased. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Yeah." I picked up my trinket from the table where Charlotte had abandoned it in favor of the jam again. "One of those reasons being he doesn't see me that way. He sees me as his friend. Nothing more."

"He's young, well-off, gorgeous, and unattached. You told me there were many women out there throwing themselves at him. Why hasn't he been serious with any of them? Besides, I hate to break this to you." Chelsea nodded at the twinkling bauble I was delicately clasping back on my arm. "Friends don't give friends jewelry worth forty thousand dollars for her birthday."

I dismissed that with a flick of my now glittering arm. "That's how Jake is."

She slants me a look. "That's how Jake is with Maddy."

"God, you sound just like Brandon. Look, Jake's an eternal bachelor. He doesn't believe in romance or love, which was why he never got serious with any number of women he was dating before and probably never will. I'm not one of those women who's naïve enough to believe I can change that about him." There wasn't much of my heart left after Josh to be broken a second time. "All we did was walked on the beach," I waved that off. "Nothing more," I fudged.

And I let him kissed me senseless.

It was a good thing the room was darkened, or she might have caught me glancing away in guilt. I hated fibbing to my friend, but I also didn't want to give her any starry-eyed ideas or false hopes about me and Jake. I wasn't trying to play things down when I told Chelsea that Jake had never even hinted at anything beyond what we already had.

Until now.

"That's it?" she asked incredulously. "He didn't try _anything_ with you?"

I shrugged. "Just the same old Jake. He did say that his father wants him to fulfill his Reed duties. Marriage. Kids. The works. Knowing how Jake is, it'll be accomplished soon enough."

Chelsea's eyes were dubious as she leaned in conspiratorially. "He's getting married? I didn't even know he was dating anyone, much less thinking about marriage." She pondered that unexpected revelation for a minute, seemingly lost in her own thought. "I could've sworn by the way he acts with you that he's... wow."

"Oh, no. He's not dating anyone as far as I know. He's just going to add 'finding a wife' on his already extensive to-do list. Whatever Jackson Reed wants, Jake delivers with haste and topped with a giant bow."

My brother stepped in with the platter of mouthwatering meat, snapping the sliding door closed behind him. "Man, it's getting cold out there. Let's eat."

"Daddy!" Charlotte shouted in excitement as though she hadn't seen him for a week.

"Jellybean, what you got all over your face?"

She grinned, flashing her megawatt dimples, a spitting image of her mischief-prone father. I could almost hear my brother's contented heart sigh.

It was still an adjustment watching Jonathan settled so comfortably. Just a few years ago he was the epitome of the L.A. bachelor. Thriving. Attractive. Young. Hopping from bed to bed. The most commitment he attempted was purchasing a car in lieu of a lease. Love was for later. Much later. Retirement and old folks home later. Youth was for fun.

"Come here, Charlotte." Competently, Chelsea lifted the joyful girl from my lap. "Let mommy clean you up, or you're going to leave a sticky mess everywhere."

"Hey," Jonathan murmured gently as he stole his wife's fingers at their daughter's waist. "Jam will wash off. Take a load off for a change."

She only smiled, the kind reserved only for the one you know you were meant to love for the rest of your life. "We'll only be a minute." With minimal fuse and efficient hands, Chelsea carted her chattering daughter to the restroom.

"Look at you," I told my brother as he took a seat and began serving. "All domesticated. I never thought I'd see the day."

The genetic Volt dimple appeared. "Right? Not as bad as I thought it would be. Guess Will had it right all along," he observed of our oldest brother, who'd been married since he was in diapers. "Chelsea has all to do with it. And now Charlotte."

The sincerity in his confession was hard to miss. I tilted my head, studying my brother. Still attractive without half trying, though I'd never admit it to him, but... different. Settled. Happy. "Do you miss it? Being single?"

"Haven't even thought about it." He laughed lightly. "Being single. Way too much work. This? Chelsea and Charlotte. That's natural. What brought this on?"

"Just being here with you guys. I used to come over – before Chelsea – and there'd be socks on the floor, empty beer bottles in the sink, foiled packages on the coffee table," I added with revulsion. "Now all I see is Charlotte's toys and babyproof furniture."

"It wasn't all about games," he corrected. "It took a lot to get VVI where it is now. I worked hard. I played hard."

"There was a time when I didn't think you were capable of marriage. You had a different girl every week." The words reminded me of Jake. "When did you know Chelsea was the one?"

He looked surprised by the question. A plate of steaming steak was offered to me. "When she turned me down," he answered casually, then winked. "But she couldn't hold out for long. I mean, just look at this face."

I groaned and lobbed a roll at him.
SIX

It was late by the time I left Jonathan and Chelsea's. After putting Charlotte to bed, we ended up opening a bottle of chianti, and Chelsea suckered me into sharing stories of Jonathan's wild childhood and brazen antics. Stuff that gave my poor dad a head full of white hair before his time.

For my brother's sake, I hoped what went around didn't come around, or he would have his hands full with Charlotte.

The drive back to Hollywood Hills was smooth and quiet. At this time of night, even the city snoozed for a spell. In record time I was pulling into my garage, shivering a bit as the entry lowered. Easing inside, I flipped on the lights, setting down my purse and stepping out of the flats.

And stared at the coffeemaker perched on the kitchen counter.

When did I make coffee?

Taking the few steps, I peered down at the sink. One black mug still half filled, brown contents cold. The brewer was still plugged in where I'd normally leave it disengaged, right next to a basket of oranges that I couldn't remember placing there. When did I buy fruits?

Was I losing my mind? I went to my brother's straight from Jake's. When did I have time to make coffee?

"Odd," I said out loud just so I could hear my own voice echo in the stillness. Shaking my head at my own disquiet, I made my way out to ensure the windows and front door were secured and locked. Just in case.

And shrieked so loud my bones rattled. "What the _hell_!"

The large figure lazily rose from the sofa. "Where've you been?"

My heart was still racing even though my brain knew there was no immediate threat. With a clutching hand over the traumatized organ – it was never going to be the same again - I glared at Jake. "What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"More of a reason not to sneak around a woman's house."

"Where did you go, Maddy?" The voice was low, in his don't-fuck-with-me tone. "And who were you with?"

His fierce expression more than the questions got my back up. "To dinner," I replied testily. The man thought he could frighten me to death, lurking around my home when I wasn't expecting him, then give me the third degree? "I don't have a curfew, Jake, nor do I need your permission."

"With who?"

I narrowed my eyes at the huffing beast, not liking his hard tone one bit. So I decided to flaunt the red flag. "None of your business."

In a blink he was in my face. "Say that to me again."

"Or what?" I taunted. He was rigid, spasming muscles held in check by sheer will, but I absolutely refused to stand down. Now both of us were blustering, but I didn't care. He had no right to act like my dad on steroids. I made a mental note to retrieve my house key from him now that I wasn't abroad anymore. "You going to fire me like one of your disobedient minions?"

"You wouldn't get off that easily." In blunt opposition to his simmering temper, long, gentle fingers held my chin. But the eyes. The gilded eyes could melt a lesser force on the spot. "One last time. Who. Were. You. With?"

I had two older, dictatorial brothers and long learned to stand my ground without simply backing down. Flailing his hand away, I took a step back. Deliberately, coolly, I sniggered derisively. "Wouldn't you like to know? Leave the key on your way out," I instructed and turned on my heel, needing to be as far away from the brute as possible without leaving the house, and went back to the kitchen.

The stomping trailing behind me wasn't entirely a surprise. What was unexpected was his hand on my upper arm.

"I'm not done with you."

That's it!

I had temper. I could admit it. I wasn't proud of it, but I didn't try to hide it either.

I snatched up a navel orange, spun, and hurled it at his head. He leapt back and dodged. My crude weapon plopped harmlessly against the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. I swiftly seized a second and launched it at a wider target – his chest. This time my citrus missile struck dead center with a portentous thud. My surge of triumphant was mixed with his irate curses that turned my ears red. The flash of fierce intent in his eyes had me immediately capturing another. My arm was in position for the mother of all tangy cannons when he lunged. The air whooshed out of me as my back thumped against the edge of the cold marble and my wrists were shackled by rigid fingers.

"Don't even think about it." With controlled restraint, he unhurriedly brought my arms down until they were uselessly impeded along my sides. "Drop it."

I glowered at him.

"I won't ask again."

Gray eyes challenged gold. Steel against fire. In the end, the brawnier one took the victory. The orange was released with a bump on the floor and rolled innocently to break against the bottom of the white cabinets.

"Get your bullying hands off me."

He only shifted closer until I couldn't breath without inhaling his familiar scent. Couldn't feel without his fingers holding me. Long, solid length pressed against mine. No space. No room to think.

"I asked you a simple question, Maddy. I expect an answer."

"Bullshit. You demanded. Ordered. Asking didn't even come close."

His nose was in my hair. "What am I going to do with you?" he murmured as he drew along my temple, inciting tremors all along my sensitized cells, but I had the feeling it was more to himself. "Why do you have to argue with me over minor details?"

The heated skin against my face was rougher than I expected and enveloped my entire being. I felt him _everywhere_.

"Minor details?" I repeated incredulously. I swiveled away. I had to, or I wasn't sure what I'd end up doing with him in the middle of my kitchen. Wanting to fling something at him and yanking him even closer all at once, I sucked in a hollowed breath. "Let go and ask me nicely, Jake. Then maybe I'd consider accommodating."

As though afraid I'd attack at the first opportunity, he took a wary moment to study me. Seemingly coming to a safe conclusion, he gradually released his grip but didn't afford me any breathing room.

"I can feel you trembling. Is it fear, I wonder. Or something else?"

Squeezing my eyes shut for a beat, I screwed up my resolve. "It's called anger." Mulishly, I gestured at the nonexistent space between us. "Do you mind?"

"Prove it," he challenged, completely ignoring my edict. "Put your hands on me and push me away."

"What?"

"It's not that hard. I won't even stop you. Just place your hands on my chest and push. You can't, can you?" he affirmed when I remained stalwartly motionless. "You're so stiff against me you can't even raise your arms. Why, Maddy? I'd never hurt you. You know that, or we wouldn't have been in each other's lives for so long. So what is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? How about I make it easy for you?" He took my wrists, sliding warm, soft lips against each palm, branding my skin, before setting them on his shoulders. "How about now?" Large hands grasped on my hips, light but firm. "You didn't have a problem being in my arms yesterday. What's changed?"

"I don't like being pawed."

Lowered head whispered against my ear. "Your heart is racing."

It was. Galloping like Charlotte's little feet at the shout of the word _jam_. "I'm just worried about you. My best friend has lost his mind. I think I have a right to be concerned."

The warm chuckle that vibrated along my flesh was soft and intimate, sending every inch of me into haywire. His nose lingered, a wild animal scenting its mate.

Hands slid behind me, locked me in. Breasts to abdomen. In my bare feet, I was staring at the base of his throat. Instinctively my palms skidded down to his upper arms. His very firm, very well-defined upper arms. I could clearly distinguish each hard sinew beneath his long-sleeve shirt. I'd touched him before. Playfully. Purposefully. Companionably. But never like this. This was infinitely different than all the other times.

Was that why all those girls couldn't resist? Even knowing he'd discard them almost as soon as the deed was done, they wanted what his gorgeous body promised. If only for a few hours.

Wasn't our unfaltering bond worth more than a few hours of carnal bliss?

My forehead dropped against his chest, listening to the erratic thump-thump of his heartbeats, conscious of the fact that each insistent pulse was the ticking of the clock that had been imposed to him by his duties.

"Hey," he chided gently, skating a hand up my back. "Where did you go?"

"I had dinner with Jonathan and his family," I divulged and lifted my head to gaze up at him quietly. This was what got me in this perilous position in the first place, and it was going to release me from it. "Steaks, mashed potatoes, veggies. The works. Then we had some wine and reminisced about the old times."

His gaze remained steady. "Okay."

"And I like being in your arms," I went on. "I just can't afford to stay in them for too long."

He searched my steadfast expression. "Why not?"

"You mean too much to me, Jake. What we have... it's more than I ever had with anyone. Man or woman."

"So what are you afraid of?"

_Of losing you._ "I don't want to risk that. I hope that, given how we are, who we've been to one another, you'd feel the same way."

Watching me, his arms steadily fell until they completely cleared from me, taking away his heat, his strength.

"Are you telling me to back off?"

I wasn't sure what I was telling him anymore. "Yeah," I said, at the wrong side of misery. Wasn't this what I wanted? "I guess I am."

He paced away. Stalked to the window in a heave of frustration. Only to swing back to me. His savage gaze alone nailing me to the spot. "Say the words."

"I... I thought I just did."

"Say the words, Maddy. Tell me to fuck off and leave you alone. Tell me you have zero interest in me beyond friendship." He held up his palms. "I'll stay right here and keep my hands off you so you can lie better."

"You don't believe me." Indignant, I aimed a finger at him. "Because you can't take no for an answer."

"You didn't say no."

"Of course I did!" Didn't I?

"I want to hear it, Maddy. Just say it. Repeat after me: Fuck. Off."

"Uh!" I threw up my hands. "You're being ridiculous again. I'm not going to tell you that. That's just stupid."

He tilted his head, studying me. "You can't do it. You can't look me in the eye and lie to my face. I'm disappointed, sweet. The Maddy I know doesn't back down because she's afraid, yet here you are. Letting it dictate your actions. I'm sorry. I have nearly unlimited resources, but the one thing in this world I cannot give you is a guarantee, even though you seem to be waiting for it. I can only promise I'll do my best not to send you packing, but I can see by your face that it wouldn't be enough. All that's left is for me is to say goodnight."

Closing the distance between us, he brushed his lips against my cheek. "Goodnight, Maddy."

There was a soft plunk behind me before he was calmly gone. I turned and found my house key sitting on the counter.
SEVEN

Men sucked more than rush hour traffic in L.A.

Monday mornings were always a bitch. I wasn't a morning person to begin with, add the first day of the workweek after a fight with Jake, and I was a grumpy zombie on Starbucks.

Today I was in a particularly piss poor mood. My coffeemaker refused to acknowledge my existence this morning, no matter how many times I ruthlessly banged on it, so of course I blamed Jake for it. There was an accident on the freeway that made me forty minutes late to the office. Someone spilled toner in the copy room and after a quick scan job, I returned to my desk with powdered black ink on the sleeve of my white – yes, white! – pearl button blouse.

What really had me going, as much as I tried to heave it out of my besieged mind, was that Jake hadn't called yesterday. As much as I tried to play the role of the nonchalant, let's-be-friends-and-not ruin-everything attitude, I couldn't escape the hurt that cruelly wrung at me.

The next time I received word from him, it was a straightforward text that told me he was flying to Toronto Sunday night and will return Monday evening. The message was short, detached, and completely devoid of any warmth. It was a note he would send to his assistant.

To top everything off on this wretched Monday, I was summoned to the corner office.

Ryan Berkshire, Vice President and Managing Principal of McKenna, Hillbrand, and Associates, was a no non-sense, the world revolved around his career and the firm, loved-his-own-name-in-print-more-than-he-did-his-wife kind of guy. If what came out of your mouth had nothing to do with his reputation, money, or business related matters, you shouldn't be speaking. He was self-congratulatory, pitiless, and my boss.

He grew up on the merciless streets of New Jersey before turning his life around. He didn't hide the obvious code of resenting anyone that he believed had a privileged upbringing. Since my last name was Volt, I was one of them.

Hastily, I shrugged into my jacket to hide the ugly black blotch on my sleeve. Smoothing down my skirt, I breezed past the carpet samples scattered on the floor, the mismatched furniture on temporary display being considered for one of the projects, the slabs of quartz, granite, metal, and other miscellaneous materials strewn about and headed down the hall to the executive corner.

Puffing out a breath, I knocked discreetly on Ryan's open door before stepping in. "You wanted to see me?" _Yes, I was forty minutes late this morning, but so was half the staff because of the accident!_

"Madison, have a seat," his gravelly, formal voice commanded.

Not good. Feigning unruffled composure while my palms dampened, I eased myself onto the leather back guest chair facing his ominous desk. The expansive, climbing view of downtown's high rises behind him framed Ryan's cool, serious demeanor.

Stone face, Ryan steeple his fingers atop his desk, his eyes unblinking. "Business development is working on an RFQ for a luxury spa in Shanghai. I want you to work with Lulu to ensure we get this project. The fees for this are estimated, at present, to be seventy-five million."

I almost gasped. Seventy-five million for a luxury spa – for a fifty people firm that specialized in retail, mixed use, and the rare occasional small hotel, which was what had sent me packing for Hong Kong a year ago.

"When we get this project," he continued and clasped his white-haired knuckles for dramatic effect, "I want you to spearhead it."

There was a second there where I was sure I'd swallowed my tongue. I sat in the overpowering office, staring at my loose jowl, nearly bald, badly crinkled boss and just blinked at him in astonishment.

Here I thought he hated me, or in the very least, barely tolerated me. Now he was handing me, to my awareness, possibly the biggest project the firm had ever gone after.

"You want me to manage the project?" I got out when I finally found my vocal abilities. Was that high pitched voice me? "In China?"

"I want you to get us the project in China. You're the obvious choice, given your recent experience with Asian projects." The words were a gruff and strict reminder. "Then I want you to manage it."

I swallowed hard but nodded my understanding. "Who's the client?"

"THS, Inc." Flippantly, he swiveled in his chair to the monitor on his desk. "Lulu can provide you with the necessary information."

Effectively dismissed, I stumbled back to my desk in a baffled haze.

Ryan wasn't the one who hired me. The previous VP, Benjamin Parsons, moved to New York to start his own interior design firm. He was an acquaintance of Will, my oldest brother, who had convinced Ben to hire me on a temporary basis with the agreement that if I wasn't a right fit for MHA, I'd move on, no hard feelings. Five years later I was the firm's Senior Designer, and Ben was no longer my boss.

It was beyond amazing that I would be given this opportunity. There was certainly more senior level staff that was more qualified to take on such a colossal task. I was the one MHA sent to Hong Kong last year, but that project was nowhere near as grandiose as this. Then, in a trickled heartbeat that suddenly boomed against my chest, the exciting, promising, career-boosting prospect had me bouncing onto my chair.

Situated, I shot a glimpse at the smartphone I left on my desk. The first person I wanted to share this incredible news with was Jake. My finger was on the dial button when it occurred to me, for the first time in our lengthy acquaintance, he might not want to hear from me. I stared at my phone, at the cropped picture of his familiar face staring back at me from the screen when I pressed for his name, and felt the pang of sadness that overshadowed my earlier exhilaration.

Giving myself a mental shake, I pressed the necessary buttons.

"Maddy," the surprised voice came. "Aren't you supposed to be working right now?"

"Will," I chirped. "Guess what?"

"You're pregnant."

" _What_?" I gawked at the phone as if it just licked my earlobe. "No! Don't even think it."

It only took a few minutes for me to give my oldest brother the elating and nerve wrecking news and to have him echoing my animated delight. "That's wonderful, Maddy. It's about time you actually do some work around there."

The amusement on his end had me grinning. I imagined him reclining on his black leather executive chair at VVI headquarters, the receiver in one hand while he gazes out his office window at the fog swirling around the Golden Gate bridge. "Believe me, it's going to be a lot of work, but I'm so ready for this. Man, this is so awesome. I can't wait to get started." The blinking window at the corner of my screen caught my attention. Lulu Fernandez, the Marketing Manager, had just sent me an instant message.

Lunch to discuss Skylight Spa project?

I typed back a quick reply. _See you at noon._

"Does this mean you'll have to go to Asia again?"

"We haven't gotten the project yet," I said. "If we do get it, I imagine I'd probably have to make a trip there. It shouldn't be anything more than a few days here and there. Certainly not like last time." I hoped.

"And when would that be?"

I shrugged as though he could see me. "I don't know. Probably not until next year."

"Are you going to tell dad and Lily?"

"Not yet," I admitted. "Not until we actually get the project."

There was a pause. Then, "All right. You coming up for Thanksgiving?"

I bit my lip. Honestly, I hadn't thought about the holiday. Who could think about turkey when I had a vast project to claim? "Umm... I'll try."

"You better. Jonathan and his family are flying up a week early if you want to join them. Or l can have Carly make the arrangements for you," he insisted, referring to his executive assistant. "She'll email you the info."

Absently, I gazed, unseeing, at the computer monitor. "Will, you know I don't like to fly during the holidays. Too many people. Too many flights delayed or canceled. Too many—"

"—excuses."

"They're not excuses."

"Okay," he countered immediately. "Then drive. Bring Jake if it makes you feel better," he added. "It's best if you don't drive up here by yourself."

I shut my eyes and rubbed at the sudden headache on my forehead. "I'll fly."

"Excellent. Carly will send you the info. Olivia and the kids will be thrilled."

At the thought of Will's family, I couldn't help the tug of longing. "I do miss those troublemakers of yours." When I caught sight of Lulu approaching my workstation, bulging file spilling out of her hand, I glanced at the clock. "Listen, I have to go. We'll talk some more later. Hey, Lulu," I greeted her as soon as I disconnected and hoisted my purse from my desk drawer. "Ready to go?"

"I'm always ready to eat." Lulu gave me a cheery smile and led the way to the elevators.

We decided on a fancy restaurant that boasted fusion dishes, exotic orchid arrangements, and wide windows so the patrons could see and be seen. It was a place where I always ordered the same thing. I listened attentively as Lulu gave me the gist of the project, the location, budget, target clientele, and conceptual design.

It turned out the spa was more of a large resort. The client envisioned infinity pools, deck side massages, and serene outdoor space for tranquil meditations.

"I think you're going to do a great job with this, Maddy. Ryan might be a little out of tune with the general public, but he picked the right person to head up this endeavor."

"Thanks." I peeked at Lulu's roast duck as the waiter gallantly placed them in front of her after my salmon salad was delivered. It sure looked tasty. "Actually, I'm a little surprised he asked me to do it. I mean, there are other people in the firm that has more experience with these sorts of things."

Lulu shrugged, the turquoise colored eyeglasses gliding down her pert nose. She was a colleague and a casual friend. Before my brief escape to another country, we'd hung out together on occasion, mostly doing girly things like shopping and getting pedicures, stuff that Jake would rather have his nails pulled than join. I always thought she was cute in a quiet, non-intrusive sort of way. She was a pretty wallflower that only the most observant noticed with her straight black hair, clear skin, and wide, unpainted mouth. She was a few years older than me, but to look at her one wouldn't be convinced she wasn't younger.

"Who knows why Ryan does anything? We're usually just grateful he acknowledges our mere existence." Rolling her eyes, she took a healthy bite of her food. "Half the time he sees right through us," she went on around a mouthful. "Unless he needs something, of course. We're all just used to it."

Son of a bitch, why didn't I order roast duck? "I know what you mean. Things haven't been the same since Ben left."

"Speaking of which, have you heard from him?"

"Ben?" Not wanting to meet her inquisitive gaze, I pierced into the salmon with my fork. "We've kept in touch."

Eyes bright with curiosity, she leaned forward and lowered her voice as though we were surrounded by known eavesdroppers as opposed to strangers. "Rumor has it he's trying to lure you away to New York."

I had a mouthful of fish and thought it was the perfect opportunity to take my time before I came up with an ambiguous response. Once I swallowed, I washed it down with a sip of water before giving Lulu a bland smile and the half-truth. "He's loving New York and has invited me to visit. So yes, he is trying to lure me." Though Ben had indeed called me more than once with enticing tales of the city and of pending projects he'd like me to consider, I wasn't going to divulge that part to my coworker.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. "How romantic." Waving a flippant hand before I could contradict her line of thought, she stabbed her loose spectacles back into position. "I know, I know. He's gay, but he's also gorgeous, uncomplicated, talented, and considerate. Let me have my fantasy before you crush it. I'm not often treated to that kind of eye candy, so I'm allowed to have my moment and... Oh. My. God."

My fork was midair when Lulu practically smacked her plate with her slacking chin. Fascinated, I watched Lulu's pupils dilate behind the slipping glasses. Her hands froze over her remaining meal as she bluntly gawked at something behind me. Instinctively I turned my head to follow her captivated gaze, catching sight of Ryan Berkshire nodding to the hostess as she showed him to a corner table across the restaurant.

Since I knew Lulu, I knew for certain Ryan wasn't what had her clattering to an abrupt halt, though. It was the man he was dining with.

_Holy shit_.

Hands down, no questions, without a doubt, the most magnificent looking man I had ever laid my skeptical eyes on.

His hair was probably best described as auburn, meticulously groomed, the red highlighted by the gentle lighting as he situated himself in one of the seats. The color of his eyes was not discernable from the distance, but the sharp, concentrated gaze was warm, his generous mouth inviting. There was a hint of a tan, as if he'd just returned from a tropical vacation and had forgotten his sunscreen. His striking, traffic-stopping features, along with his tall, lean, and obviously well-honed frame, could've been the model fashion designers clawed all over each other for.

The tailored-cut black suit, starch white shirt, and perfectly knotted gray tie told me he wasn't oblivious to his appearance. The fact that he was having lunch with Ryan Berkshire also told me he was not someone I would likely to receive an introduction, given my diminutive status on the MHA totem pole.

Perhaps the wild, animalistic energy Lulu was sending out was to blame when that focus gaze lifted and sharpened on mine without warning. Even with the ten or so packed tables between us, I felt the scorching pull of his eyes as they imprisoned my sudden awareness. The intensity with which he perused me thickened the space and charged the air until I was sure I could snatch a sizzling fistful of it. Not a polite pull of lips or a flicker of an eyelash altered the enigmatic rush that seemed to assail me from across the room.

"Do you know him?"

The question was a harsh whisper, barely audible above the din of public conversations. With effort, I broke off and rashly returned my attention to Lulu, who had thankfully slapped her napkin to her slackening mouth, and forked in another morsel of food.

Was it me, or did it get hot in here all of a sudden?

"No." I was surprised at how casual that came out. "He kind of looks familiar though. Who is he?" An actor? A supermodel?

Blinking back to semi-consciousness, Lulu visibly swallowed, though her food was forgotten. She shoved her glasses back up her nose and peered at me as if she suddenly remembered where we were. "I don't know, but you better believe I'm going to find out." Her cheeks puffed out and she drained her glass of Coke nearly to the bottom before she was able to speak again. "He's about the hottest man alive."

I couldn't argue with that apt observation. "Perhaps he's interviewing for a position."

Lulu snorted. "From the looks of it, he could probably buy and sell Ryan. Department store versus Gucci."

That made me laugh. Yet another apt observation I couldn't argue. I fought the urge to swivel my neck to see if he was still shooting undisguised curiosity this way, but I was too cowardly to risk the notice. I shrugged and took a last bite of the fish.

Though it was obvious she put in an effort not to stare that way, Lulu continued to flick intermittent glances. "All the women are drooling over him," she observed as she scanned the restaurant. "It's like the Earth stopped when he walked in."

"He certainly is attractive." An understatement of the century.

"Attractive?" Leery, Lulu gaped at me while her eyes bulged. "Are you blind? He's about to set off the sprinklers!" She sighed dreamily and polished off her lunch. "I can easily spend the rest of my life eating him up."

I rolled my eyes. "Forget it. Men like that have women falling all over themselves over him. Us normal gals don't stand a chance."

"Normal?" she repeated after me again. "I might be in that category, but you, my dear Maddy, cannot fake that claim. You've got plenty of men falling all over _you_ , so don't even try to sell that one."

Sniffing at that nonsense, I gave her a look. "That's not true."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Case in point, that stunning, mouthwatering specimen over there has been looking this way ever since you caught his eye. Now I'm no expert on the male psyche, but when a man can't take his eyes off you in a crowd it usually means you're either 1) naked, 2) a freak, or 3) gorgeous and he's picturing you naked and doing freaky things with you."

"Oh please," I countered, just a tad uncomfortable at the discovery that he was indeed still watching us. "He's probably married."

"Nope," she corrected immediately. "No ring."

"That doesn't mean he's not married. Or have a girlfriend." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter because I'm not interested."

Lulu's dark eyes were huge as her brows shot to her forehead. "You're not only blind, you've gone mad. Oh wait," she pondered, tapping a finger on her chin. "I forgot you have a delicious piece of masculinity already."

"Who?" Of course I knew who she was insinuating.

Jake.

Ever since she came across a picture of us online at some black-tie function Jake had dragged me to a few years ago, she'd been giving me hell over my "secret" lover. I tried many a times to assure her Jake and I were just friends, that we'd known each other since college, and that he was more like family rather than a romantic interest, but she wouldn't hear of it, arguing that she knew what she saw, and what was on the image wasn't two platonic companions. It didn't help that the camera had captured a moment when Jake had both arms wrapped tightly, protectively around me from behind, our gazes up and focused on the array of fireworks above us. The caption had read: R Corp and Volt Ventures, joint enterprise?

It wasn't the first time the media had "caught" us together in a questionable moment, fueling speculation of a possible merger between the families, personally and corporately. Until Lulu had pointed out how intimately cozy the two of us looked in that picture, I never really considered how much Jake was constantly touching me. I had never really cared about what was said as long as our families knew the truth. Well, I could no longer defend our relationship, since I wasn't even sure there was one anymore.

My mobile rang before Lulu could proceed full speed ahead with her endless teasing. A small part of me was hoping it was finally Jake calling to let me know we were okay, that regardless of what happened over the weekend, everything was the same. The breath I didn't know was stuck came out in a whoosh as the caller ID told me it was Brandon Reed.

Not the Reed brother I was yearning.

"Hi, Bran, what's up?"

"Maddy, my beautiful, outrageously sexy goddess that's determined to break my heart."

I chuckled. Wow, what a greeting. "Uh-oh. What do you want?"

He sucked in embellished air. "You wound me with your suspicions, my love. I'm just calling to see how you were doing."

Hmm... right. "Great. How are you?"

"Can't complain, now that I'm talking to you. Thought I should check on you with Jake out of town the rest of the week."

Yet another man who treated me like a child, though Brandon was a year younger than me. "Serious?" I was certain Jake had texted me to let me know he'd be back tonight. "Is he stuck in Toronto?"

"Nope, something came up in Nice, so he's flying directly over there this afternoon and will need to stay there until late Thursday."

"Oh." Had Jake asked Brandon to call me to relay that message, letting me know where he was in a roundabout way? He'd always been direct with me, so I couldn't imagine Jake having his little brother do his dirty deed for him. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure," he reassured me. "Just the usual stuff. You know how it is. Dad's grooming him to take over, so Jake's in high demand."

There was no bitterness or resentment in Brandon's tone, just the matter of fact telling of the current events. I knew Brandon had often felt relieved he wasn't the first born and therefore not expected to take control of the arduous family legacy. Although his role as Executive Vice President was nothing to sneeze at, he liked to joke that the title was great with girls and little else.

"Lucky Jake," I murmured sardonically.

Brandon snickered. "And you know Jake – whatever Dad wants, Jake's more than willing to oblige."

Including a wife and a brood of bouncing Reed kids, I thought with stifled sullenness. I wondered if Jackson Reed realized the kind of unreasonable mandates he was placing on his eldest, or if he did, gave a shit one way or the other.

I watched as Lulu waved our waiter over and handed her the company credit card, deep into thoughts of my night with Jake. Finding a life partner and producing heirs shouldn't be at the snap of a commanding parent's fingers. Granted, Jake was a highly eligible bachelor, but to find that one person to spend the rest of one's life with was a monumental decision and not one to be taken lightly just because it was time. There should be more to it than that, shouldn't there? Wasn't life hard enough without being committed to someone you only tolerated?

"Hello?" Brandon's voice intruded into my thoughts. "You still there?

"Yeah. Sorry." I rubbed at my temple. "Mind wandering." Clearing my throat, I dabbed at my mouth with the napkin. "Forget about Jake. So what are you up to?"

"Nothing much, but aside from wanting to hear your lovely voice, I wanted to see if you want to get together this week. Dinner, perhaps?"

I didn't like the thought of that. Seeing Brandon would only remind me of Jake, and I certainly didn't need any reminders, but how would I turn down a dinner invitation with him? My gaze was trained on Lulu as she signed the slip and gathered her giant tote of a purse when inspiration struck.

"How about happy hour? Friday? I can invite a few people from work." I sent Lulu a wink as she gave me a perplexed look. "It'll be fun."

"I'm always down for happy hour. Where and what time?"

"I'll text you the info on Thursday, so keep Friday open."

Grabbing my own purse, we make our way through a clear path between filled tables. Feeling something pulling at me, my gaze automatically veered to the side without thought.

The engrossed, heated eyes were green. Not an eyelash flickered as his alert gaze followed me without reserve, burning into me as he purposely track me across the crowded restaurant.

Should I know him?

Mentally shaking myself out of it, I pointedly ignore the far corner table with the penetrating gaze and trailed after Lulu out onto the street. "Happy hour on Friday," I told her as soon as we were walking back toward the office. "I expect you to be there."

She was already shaking her head before I'd finished. "No can do, Maddy. I have a six-thirty hair appointment that day that took me months to schedule. You're going to have to go without me."

Hefting my handbag on my shoulder, I dodged heavy lunch time pedestrian traffic as we weaved our way back to Figueroa Street. "Okay," I said easily. Shamelessly, I targeted Lulu's weakness and deployed my attack. "That's too bad, though. That was Brandon I was talking to – Jake Reed's brother? He'll be there. He's young, fun, flaming hot, and loves to—"

"I'm in."
**EIGHT**

The week zoomed by so quickly I scarcely had time to think of anything else but the RFQ Lulu and I were scrambling to submit by the Friday afternoon deadline. We were at it from seven in the morning to well past ten o'clock every night since Tuesday, with rushed, working lunches and distracted dinners in between. I didn't mind one bit. On the contrary, I loved it. The thrilling rush, the frenzied stampede to put everything together, the late night, last minute design proposal changes were all a chunk of the mind-blowing experience of being a part of a make-it or break-it project.

During the middle of the week when I was on a brief restroom break, I'd grabbed my phone for a quick check. There were no missed calls or texts from Jake, short or otherwise. I couldn't afford to spend time thinking about phone calls or texts, though I did send Brandon a swift reminder about happy hour, as promised, after he spent the whole of Thursday trying to pin me down through MHA's main office line because I wasn't responding to my phone.

Towers of coffee and sugary snacks kept us on the tip of our toes where we needed to be. So tonight, in a popular and loud sports bar in Downtown, a small group of us was ready to kick back and embrace the beginning of the much anticipated weekend.

Brandon was already waiting by the time we got there. "Maddy!" At the first sight of me, Brandon Reed popped out of the stool of the high table and gave me a crushing hug that had me nearly bending over backwards. "Check you out, all professional looking!" Without hesitation, he gave me a smacking kiss right on my lips.

That was Brandon.

The navy and white sheath dress brushed at my knees as I stepped back and surveyed him. He was in dark gray slacks and a burgundy button shirt. If he'd been wearing a tie earlier, which I suspected he was, it was now discarded with the top two buttons of the shirt left open. "Check _me_ out?" I mimicked his astonished tone. "Look at you! All grown up."

I'd seen him in suits, jeans and t-shirts, dripping wet in nothing more than a pair of swimming trunks that probably heated the pool, and tailored tuxedos before, but somehow in the cheerful, laid back atmosphere of the sports bar, amid the animated laughter and muted televised basketball games, there was something more enticing about him that I was certain my female associates would take instant notice – not to mention the other females at the bar that were darting probing, hinting glances his way.

Introductions were promptly made with the obligatory handshakes exchanged. Natalie, the receptionist, who was all over Brandon in a blink of her long, false eyelashes and a calculated flip of her manufactured sun-streaked blonde hair, Cal, a fellow designer who never said no to good beer, especially with women, and Lulu, who almost dropped her massive purse along with her tongue at the sight of the young, fun, and hot Brandon.

We all took a seat. I couldn't maneuver Lulu next to Brandon without being obvious, since I was already next to him at his side of the rectangular table, but I was hoping she would take the seat facing him. Natalie, of course, had her own agenda and with more calculation than finesse, plopped her miniskirt behind on the seat directly across Brandon. If he bothered to look, I was certain he would get a welcome message on the panties on display under the table. It wasn't my intention to play matchmaker with Lulu or Brandon, but I also knew how Natalie was with attractive, particularly financially well-off men, and I didn't want Brandon stuck entertaining someone who wasn't interested in who he really was.

Drink orders were taken as soon as we settled. I wanted to kick my heels up and relax, but the aluminum half-back of the stool prevented me from utter abandonment. Along with cocktails and beers, we were waiting on greasy, messy finger foods and sliders that my stomach would no doubt revolt against later. At this particular moment, I didn't give a shit.

"So, Brandon," Cal started as he sent me a wink from his perch at the end of the table, "how do you know our Maddy here?"

_Our Maddy_. Like I belonged to the group at large.

"Maddy and my brother are close. In fact, he'd probably be here if he weren't just getting back from Nice as we speak."

Cal's eyebrows puckered before he gave me a bewildered look. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"Jake and I are friends."

"They're practically hitched."

Brandon and I spoke at the same time. I didn't want to correct Brandon in front of the others, but I also didn't want him or anyone else getting the wrong impression. I was just opening my mouth to specify when the waitress came with our drinks. By the time she dispensed with them and was off again, Natalie had leaned in close toward Brandon, her chin on her hand, and gazed at him as if he were the only person at the place.

"Tell me about yourself, Brandon."

Smooth as silk, he shifted on his seat to face her fully, giving her an easy smile, brown eyes twinkling. "What would you like to know?"

Oh God. Here we go.

Inwardly rolling my eyes, I took a sip of my daiquiri. I felt the mixed booze straight shoot my empty stomach and gurgled, but I ignored it. After all, it was going to be a long night.

"Why don't you start with whether or not you're single?" The cheeky reply was what came out of those over glossed lips.

"I'm open to the right woman."

Some things were just too disgusting to witness. I cut a glance at Lulu. Her gaze was cast low as she took a sip of her white wine, those trying glasses stubbornly cruising down her nose no matter how many times she shoved them back up. Lulu's quiet charm was completely overshadowed by the colorful makeup, strong perfume, and attention-craving personality of the woman next to her.

Shit, I'm going to need a second drink, I mused, and eyed Brandon's tempting long neck bottle beer. Catching the waitress eye, I made the universal gesture for round two and she nodded. It was either that or gawp at the dangling cleavage diagonal to me as Natalie hovered further over.

Men were pigs, and the Reed brothers were no exception.

Another daiquiri was plopped in front of me and the waitress rushed off. Jake probably spent the last few days at the topless beaches, ogling flimsy bikini-clad women, enjoying every bounce and jiggle with each slack jawed drool, I decided on a huff and fought back the urge to lick the bottom of my glass as I drained it.

Well, if T&A were all he cared about, who the hell am I to give a shit?

The pig.

I'd tuned out the conversations going on around me and didn't want to tune in even after I realized I was being rude. Scanning the crowded bar unsuccessfully for our waitress, I silently cursed and again considered the untouched beer next to me, the enticing condensation drizzling down the brown glass beckoning me. A peek at Brandon told me he was engrossed with the hanging Natalies, so I put his drink to better use and downed half of it before I accepted my next neglected gulp of air.

It wasn't long before I found myself tipping the bottle upside down, glaring at the measly drops trickling down to the table. Stupid gravity took all my beer. Pursing my lips, I measured the other drinks scattered about the scarred wooden tabletop.

"Maddy," hissed Lulu, leaning over the table like Natalie, except she was desperately trying to get my attention instead of a certain oink next to me. "Slow down or you'll be wasted before the food makes it here."

Tilting to the side, I hissed in the same conspiratorial tone as Lulu. "Brandon. Brandon!" I hissed louder when I was ignored. Brandon tore his riveted gaze from the hooker to give me a bland look. I pointed at the uncomplicated woman across from me. "Look at her. Isn't she cute?"

I watched, fascinated, as Lulu turned an interesting shade of pink right before my eyes.

Chuckling, Brandon reached for his beer. "Very," he agreed easily then frowned at the empty bottle. "What the hell..." His eyes immediately flew to my three empty glasses and then back to his missing drink.

When did I have three cocktails?

"Oops." I couldn't hold back the giggle that bubbled out of my throat. "Guess I was thirsty." My consoling arm swung up to his shoulder, nearly smacking him on the side of his face when I overshot my aim – didn't know my own strength! – and patted him to show there were no hard feelings. "It's okay, Bran, I forgive you. Next time just get your own."

I heard Cal choke back a laugh as Brandon stared at me, wide eyed. Was that alarm mixed with disbelief?

"Fucking shit, Maddy, how much did you drink?"

Giving him the most solemn expression, I asked, "What drink?"

More male snickering from the end of the table just as Brandon muttered, "Aw, hell," as if he just discovered he was in deep trouble. "Come on, Maddy, we gotta go."

As Brandon extricated from his seat, I listed to the opposite side to give him space. Gravity was really an amazing thing, I decided on the spot as I kept going, enjoying the near horizontal view. A determined hand shot out and caught my arm before I could truly appreciate it, though, and hauled me, a bit unsteadily, I had to admit, to my feet.

"Why we leaving? Food's not beer... here."

Once again I was ignored as Brandon made his apologies to everyone – whatever their names were – and I felt a second pair of hands, much smaller but no less resolute, grabbed hold of my other side.

Imprisoned. That was what was happening. I was being arrested. Dragged off to jail. What did I do, I wanted to wail, but could only stare at the dainty olive skin hands.

Wait, I know what I did.

I lied to my PBF.

"Maddy!"

I jumped at the shout of my name. Had he been calling me? "Huh?"

There was a sigh and a, "Oh boy, those are really settling in", then Brandon began to tug me across the bar, sidestepping half drunken louts who couldn't keep still. "Can you walk?"

I couldn't lie. I didn't want to mislead anyone. "Not..." I swallowed and tried again. "Not 'til I was one," I provided helpfully, just so we were clear. "Before..." I waved a hand and felt my knuckle cuffed a hard abdomen. "I was carried. Mostly by my mom."

"Fuck." I heard Brandon mumbled. "Jake's going to kill me."

"Ha-ha," I mocked. "You're 'fraid of your brudr."

We stumbled out into the front as he fished inside his pocket for a slip of paper to give to the strange man in the black vest hovering behind the podium by the curb. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he was scrambling away as soon as he glanced at the thing.

"I dink..." I cleared my throat and tried again. "I think he up to no goo... good," I cautioned Brandon. "Bedder watch 'im."

Another sigh, but Brandon kept quiet.

The strange man pulled up in front of us in a familiar sports car. Shocked, my heart stopped as my lids jumped to my brows and I clutched at Brandon's arm. "Dude! He got your car!"

"It's okay, Maddy. He's with valet."

"Valet?" I tried out the odd word on my tongue. "Valet." Before I could repeat it a third time Brandon was bundling me into the passenger seat. I gave the strange man in the vest the I'm-watching-you warning glare as he again accepted something from Brandon before he got in the car himself.

Just as Brandon buckled in and peeled off into traffic, I caught sight of Lulu standing outside of the bar, a worried expression on her face. Had she been there the whole time? Was that who Brandon was muttering to when I was too busy dodging irresponsible jerks who kept stepping in front of me?

"Man, sweetheart, you're going to get me in deep shit," Brandon started as we rolled onto the busy freeway, shaking his head. "I took my eyes off you for one minute and you got plastered."

That got me scoffing. "Yeah right. Your eyes were on boobs!"

His head whipped my way for an instant before the demands of the road called back his focus. "I did not have eyes on boobs. We were talking." He deflated with the breath he blew out. "Okay, maybe just a few peeks. But hey, I'm a straight, single guy, and she was throwing them way out there. I wasn't going to be rude and _not_ look."

"Oh please. You make me sick."

"Come on, Maddy, it was no big deal." Rolling back a shoulder as if he was trying to loosen some tension, he gave me a quick glance. "So there's no need to mention that part to Jake, deal?"

I blinked until my eyes were too wide to move. "You mean it's a se... secret?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. A secret. Jake doesn't have to know everything, and I won't tell him you got drunk." He gave me an encouraging smile. "Sound good?"

Nodding enthusiastically, I grabbed his arm. "Thank you!" I gushed sincerely. "Thank you fo' not tellin' on me." What a nice guy.

I must have nodded off because the next thing I knew we were in my driveway and Brandon was shuffling me out of the car. He dug in my handbag, presumably for my keys and not my wallet or to try out my lipstick, as I gingerly made my way up the patio.

The front door was yanked open and a huge, looming shadow filled the doorway.

"Jakey!"

"Where the hell have—"

The breath was knocked out of his sentence when I plowed into him, arms securing around him as much as they could reach. "Jakey! You came back!"

Long, strong fingers curled around my upper arms and drew me back. Jake took a full minute to assess me. I tried for a reassuring smile but somehow it felt more like a goofy grin.

Incredulity turned into suspicion that morphed into fury. "You're drunk!"

"No." I shook my head vehemently, my long, annoying hair slapping my cheeks. "No way. Brandon wou... wouldn't rat me out."

A wince came from behind me, and I giggled at that sound of dread as Jake's gaze shot over my head to the source.

"Rat you out." Jake said each word carefully.

"He was polite so..." Hiccup. "He stared at boobs."

Gold eyes narrowed. "Oh he was, was he?"

"Shh. It's a seeecret."

"It wasn't like that, man." Brandon's voice sounded defensive and somehow far away. "It was just happy hour."

"Happy hour?"

Another wince. "Just a sports bar. With some of her co—"

"Get in the house."

The cold, jagged cut of the command made me grimace. Those no-nonsense hands that still had a grip on me turned me around and marched me through the gaping front door.

"I asked you to do one thing," Jake hollered as soon as the door was firmly shut behind us, the rumble of ire so loud the floor shook. "One fucking thing while I'm gone. What was so fucking hard?"

Shit, all the shouting and f-tomics were starting to give me a headache. Suddenly depleted, I felt my way over and sprawled on the sofa, throwing an arm over my eyes against the glaring lamp on the side table. Was that stupid thing always so bright?

Jake sounded really upset, but I was too drained to try and figure out why. His unpredictable moods always confounded me, but at the moment it didn't seem as important as shutting out all the unnecessary shouting and pounding in my muddled brain.

"—know she's a light weight."

"—wouldn't have let... to her."

"—irresponsible, immature—"

"—an adult... wanted a drink... fucking have one!"

Where did a girl have to go to get some peace and quiet? A bar?

"—not my job to watch your girlfr—"

Oh man, my stomach was starting to object. Groaning a protest that sounded more like a pathetic whimper even to my own ears, I tried to heave myself up but somehow ended up landing on my hands and knees on the cold hardwood floor. The unforgiving ground slammed against my tender knees and palms, jarring my unsuspecting bones, but I hardly noticed.

It seemed no one else noticed either as the hollering escalated until I wanted to shove my hands against my agitated ears. Even my poor eyeballs were vibrating. Like a wounded animal, I slowly attempted to crawl and scoot my way to my bedroom in the hopes of blocking the loud, feral brothers. I was beginning to feel like a defeated vacuum cleaner by the time I made it into the carpeted hallway a few feet from my wavering destination when I decided, screw it, it was far enough. I had just enough energy to turn onto my back and designate the unoccupied spot my new bedroom.
NINE

There was an obstinate, incessant pummeling in my deadened skull the moment dreaded consciousness resurrected itself. Weak, filtered sunlight slanted across my bedroom through the separating slits on the drapes just enough for me to comprehend it was morning. Cautiously I turned my neck so as not to further aggravate the monster gleefully wrecking my head and glimpsed at the bedside clock. Eight fifty-three.

A glass of water and two brown pills in plain display on a napkin were next to the clock. It hit me then how parched my throat was. On a grateful grunt, I painstakingly slithered and shuffled. Each dawdling movement measured, I was able to sit up and gulp down the tablets, draining the contents of the glass. I lingered with my legs dangling on the side of the bed for a moment in nothing but my black demi bra and panties. Because I could clearly see myself hunkering back down on the cushy mattress and wasting the day in bed, I put my weary, disputing body to work and peeled off.

Shower. Warm, splashing water always made me feel better. With delicate steps I found my way to the adjoining bath. One glance at the mirror had me wincing away. Evidently a hairbrush wouldn't hurt either.

Twenty minutes later I was clean and feeling marginally better. Wrapped in a simple cotton robe with my dripping hair turbaned in a beige towel, I stepped back out to my room, noticing for the first time the navy and white dress I had on yesterday draped over the footboard. The matching navy pumps were on the floor below it.

For the life of me I couldn't recall taking off the dress last night. Actually, I didn't recall crawling into bed, either, or getting a glass of water with the painkillers.

Then I smelled it. The tantalizing, sensory snatching aroma.

Coffee.

Brandon?

Parodying a cartoon character lifting off her feet to drift after an enticing scent, I sniffed and padded my bare feet to the kitchen.

"Good morning."

I stuttered to a screeching halt at the sight of Jake standing at the counter, his back to me even as he mechanically recited the greeting, casually buttering toast. His hair was damp like he just showered not too long ago. Old, faded jeans hugged his very nice ass and long thighs, ending above large, unadorned feet. The top of him was concealed in a plain gray T-shirt that stretched across his dominating shoulders. A waiting bowl of eggs was near his elbow. My first thought was: _I had bread?_ Immediately following that was dull confusion.

"You're here," I squeaked rather stupidly. With as much coolness and detachment as I could muster, I cleared my throat and tried again. "When did you get back?"

The bread was set aside in favor of the coffeepot. "Last night."

"Oh."

Silence ensued as he filled two cups that had been set out on the counter, dumping a generous dose of cream and sugar in one of them before placing it on the table of the kitchen alcove. During the entire mindless routine, he did not once look at me.

Now he was back to the butter and bread, giving me a study view of his back.

I couldn't recollect the last time I felt like an unwelcomed stranger in my own home. Actually, that wouldn't be true. I could recall. That would be never.

Well, if he wanted to act like a baby, let him. Making myself at home, because, yeah, I _was_ home, I scooted onto the cushioned bench, took a loud whiff of the searing mug, and seized a tentative taste.

Good stuff.

Something occurred to me and I voiced it before I remembered we were observing a moment of silence. "Hey, how'd you make this? My coffeemaker's out."

An absent nod toward an empty box on the floor. Then butter and bread.

How many slices could two people eat?

I wasn't sure how I felt about him just going out and buying a new coffeemaker or why he didn't just stop at Starbucks if he was that desperate for hot caffeine.

Oookay. Take two.

"How was Nice?"

A shrug. This time he moved on to cracking eggs into another bowl, carefully separating the yolk.

Something that just occurred to me has me frowning at his back as he gave me the cold shoulder from across the kitchen. "How did you get in last night? I distinctly remember you returning my house key."

"I know where you hide your spare."

The measured clanking of the fork against the stainless steel bowl was the only sound in the thick silence.

Back to ignoring me.

Sighing so hard the steaming cup almost turned into a smoke signal, I plunked it down and stared at his annoying back. "If you're just going to give me the silent treatment all morning, why are you here? You can pretend I don't exist from anywhere. And why make breakfast?"

The heated pan sizzled as the eggs were poured in. "It's more satisfying to do it in person. And because I'm hungry."

Fair enough. "Where's Brandon?"

Since he was at the stove, I was able to see his profile when his jaw tightened. "Home would be my guess."

Hissing from the hot pan filled the room as I pursed my lips, assessing my morning opponent. I couldn't remember everything about last night, but there were certain things that lingered at the reaches of my mind. Jake's tyrannical accusations and Brandon's subsequent apologetic then defensive matches as he shouted back. The front door slamming. Jake's cursing.

If the aloofness that vibrated the morning air of the kitchen was an indication, Jake wasn't over his little snit. Wrapping the fingers of both my hands on the warm mug with the hope of revitalizing the remote chill, I tried for placating reasoning. "I don't know why you were so upset with him. It wasn't like he was responsible for my actions. I was having fun with some coworkers. I invited Brandon." I lifted a shoulder, perfectly rational, and watched him flip the hot contents of the pan onto a plate. "I had a bit too much to drink. So what? No harm done."

He looked at me then. The normally lovely gold specks chilled as I spoke my mind. Did he have any idea how intimidating that ceaseless gaze was?

As if he hadn't just slaughtered me with a cold front, he snatched up his own cup the way men with large hands did – fingers gripping the top - tipped it back for a healthy dose, the whole time branding me over the rim with those molten eyes. I shifted in my seat, tightened the sash of my robe, uncrossed my legs only to cross them again – anything rather than the burn of those two pinpoints of fire.

"Are you actually defending his inexcusable behavior?" he finally said. "Tell me, Maddy," he continued mildly before I could even open my mouth. "Did you enjoy carousing with my little brother? Allowed him to cheer you on like the icon of some rowdy frat party?"

Wait a fucking minute! Was he insinuating hanging out at happy hour equated to immature college partying? And that condescending tone was starting to piss me off. "Your _little brother_ ," I got in and zeroed him in, "is twenty-seven! Whether you like it or not, he's an adult. As am I." A brow arched. "You're plenty tall, Jake, so get off your high horse."

Porcelain connected with marble so loudly I was surprised nothing cracked. "His one – one! – responsibility while I was gone was to watch you. He couldn't even manage that sim—"

"Wait." My own mug landed on the wooden tabletop with a distant thud. "What did you just say?"

"—ple task." As my question penetrated his haze of testiness, his scowl cleared, his face suddenly a mask of blankness. "What?"

"You told him to babysit me, didn't you?

He half turned, avoiding my gaze, and reached for the plate of toast.

"Jake. Tell me you didn't."

Scrambled egg whites, lightly browned whole grained toasts, a bowl of colorful fruits cut into perfect squares, two glasses of orange juice, along with an assortment of plates, napkins, and silverware were systematically placed in front of me. I narrowed my eyes at him when he settled on the bench across from me. Taking his time, he guzzled the orange juice, and I could tell he was weighing his response for the least amount of what he no doubt supposed was going to be female overreaction.

He swallowed and looked me right in the eye. "I asked him to be available to you."

"So your words to Brandon Reed were _be available to Maddy_ and not _keep an eye on Maddy while I'm away_?"

Straight white teeth sank into giving toast. "Does it matter?" he asked around a mouthful.

And there was my answer. I felt red hot blood pump through my veins and gelled in my head. The audacity of it - ignored me for a week while he launched his spy on me! And Brandon didn't say a word!

"Were you somehow under the misguided impression I needed a babysitter?" I managed through clenched teeth. "Just because you were out of town for a week?"

He forked eggs into his mouth and considered me for a minute as he munched. "First, I didn't ask Brandon to babysit you, but I suppose that's a moot point at this rate. I was not available, and I trusted Brandon to stand in my place while that was the case."

I stared at the heap of food spread out on the table. It looked wonderful. Too bad I had no appetite. "I'm a big girl, Jake," I reminded him sardonically. "I can go through my days even without an available man."

"This has nothing to do with that."

"Then what?" I gazed at him earnestly. "Is it because you wanted to... spend the night with me?"

"Since there were many previous occasions where we spent the night, the day, the weekend, and even weeks together, it didn't instigate a similar request from me to my brother. However," he added when I was ready to jump in to qualify that taking vacations together were not exactly the same, "Whether or not we take this to the next level now or later doesn't change the fact that you're my responsibility, and I needed to know you were taken care of."

Dumbfounded, I stared at him, opened my mouth to say something but discovered I needed a second, and promptly closed it again. I shook my head once to dislodge the wedged thoughts. "What?"

Finished with the bread and eggs, he moved on to scoop some fruit onto the plate in front of me before doing the same to his. "Eat," he ordered as if I weren't gaping at him from across the table. "You didn't have anything last night. You must be starved. I had your car brought back, by the way."

Ignoring the fruits, eggs, and toasts he was shoving onto my plate, I rubbed at my forehead and the lingering, insistent ache. "But why?"

He shrugged. "Thought you might need it back at some point."

"You know I wasn't referring to my car." Utter bewilderment had me dropping my head onto my palm. "Jake?" I knew his eyes were on me, but I chose not to meet them. "Sometimes I feel like there's a wall around you. It's so thick that I don't know how to get through. Don't know if you would even want me to. You take off for a week with no word. And now you tell me you sent your brother to chaperone me. What am I supposed to think?"

A good dense minute ticked by as he considered me. My head lifted, but there was nothing in me that could decipher what he could possibly be thinking.

Sitting back, his chest rose in a deep, contemplative breath, composed gaze fixed on me. "What is it that you want, Maddy? You wanted me to back off. I backed off. Sometimes, it's just that simple."

"I didn't mean for you to disappear!"

"I'm right here," he quipped, pointing out the obvious. "I travel a lot for RHR. Sometimes unexpectedly. That hasn't changed since you were gone."

That might had been true, only he used to keep me up to date on his whereabouts, always calling or texting to let me know what was going on with him, sending random snapshots of things he thought I might find amusing. Even while away, he made me an active part of his day.

You wanted me to back off. I backed off.

How was it possible to convey my jumbled thoughts without sounding like a needy woman desperate for his attention? I wanted my cake and eat it too.

The truth was, I wanted him. Wanted him like I never, ever wanted anyone before in my life. Always had. But what if...

"You're anything but simple," I muttered under my breath, then let it out with an audible puff. "Growing up, my dad and my mom were always very affectionate with one another."

By his expression, I could tell he wasn't sure where I was going with this. "They were an admirable couple," he agreed.

I nodded, accepting the unfussy truth. "We never questioned their devotion to each other or to us - Will, Jonathan, and I. They were very much friends. Friends, lovers, and partners, perhaps one role in a particular circumstance and all three at any given time. When my mom got sick, my dad was always by her side until the bitter end. I know that wasn't the case with your family."

I felt him slammed shut, instantly closing in, and I ached for him.

Jackson Reed ran an empire along with assortments of accommodating harems. Among them, Jake's mother was a runway model on the cusp of notoriety when she discovered she was pregnant with Jake. Before her belly even bulged Josie Aubrey became Josephine Reed, the first and only Mrs. Jackson Reed. Though Jackson was delighted to have an offspring, another step to securing his legacy, he couldn't keep his pants zipped outside of his home. While Jake was barely a gurgling baby, the media had caught Jackson repeatedly with other women. Numerous other women. After Brandon was born and years of public humiliation over her husband's flaunting indiscretions, Josephine lost her battle to depression and took her own life. She was twenty-eight when she died, and her oldest son was a frightened and confused six year-old, mature enough to know his mother, the center of his little world, was gone but too young to understand why.

Jake never talked about it, but I'd heard bits and pieces from various Reed family members and the press and was able to put the ugly pieces together. After Josephine's untimely demise, all the nurturing and attention the boys received were from his aunt Vivian and countless nannies.

That was something we both had in common, only my mom died when I was twelve after two years of fighting leukemia.

"What does my family have to do with us?"

It was that face again, the one completely barren of any notable feelings except patient tolerance. I took in a deep breath and plunged on. "Jake, why me?"

"We've discussed this." The long fingers were now drumming an erratic beat on the tabletop. "I care about you."

I let my gaze hold, letting him know I was waiting for more.

"We're compatible, good companions."

The words were nearly choked out of him, he was having such a hard time with them. Gesturing expectantly, I let him know I was holding out for something more concrete.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes. "I don't know what you're waiting to hear."

"All right." I nodded, as if it was exactly as I'd anticipated. Sadly, it was, but I didn't want to dwell on that. At least, not when I wasn't alone. "Let me help you. All the things you mentioned are very well true, but you forgot the main factor. Your father has convinced you it's time for you to settle down, start a family. And your quickest and most convenient solution is... well, me. Which is not altogether very flattering, by the way."

Slowly, exhausted, heavy lids revealed hot, aggravated eyes that pinned me to my seat. I almost flinched at the abruptly invasive gaze.

"This has very little to do with my father and his expectations, although I can't argue with his timing. This," he jerked his head at the space between us, "has been brewing for years. You see, Maddy," he said evenly, "I knew almost the first moment I met you that you were going to be a Reed. But we were both too young. So I waited, worked at it until you're used to being an integral part of my life and I, yours, because what we shared was more important than what we had – at least at the time."

I could only blink at him for a minute, my eyes swallowing my face. "That's absurd."

"Is it?" he asked in his reasonable, boardroom voice. "When have you known me to make brash decisions? Aren't you the one always saying I'm not spontaneous? That I plan everything? What makes you think," fingers clasped mine on the table, "that I would be any different with the biggest decision of my life?"

He had a point, but what he was suggesting was so inconceivable to me that I couldn't grasp around it. Since the moment he met me? "You're talking nonsense." The notion is too... _romantic_ for purposeful, logical Jake.

"Somewhere inside that panic-stricken brain of yours you know it's the truth. Timing is everything, Maddy, and I can't deny my father was right, at least about that."

His gaze lowered to my mouth. "Tell me, sweet, and I want your complete, candid honesty." His voice was soft, scarcely audible above the pounding of my heart, as his heated gaze returned to mine. "Before last week, have you ever thought about us together?" Lifting my hand to his lips, he pressed them leisurely against my suddenly nervous palm. "Touching me."

I couldn't speak. His warm breath ghosted over my burning skin, my own air raced and gave up the fight somewhere in my throat.

"Is that a yes?"

Huh? Yes to what? What was the question?

Oh right. Us. Like this.

I decided to avoid the difficult question by turning it to him. "Have yo—"

"Yes," he shot out before I even finished the words. "But only about a million times."

_One thing in this world I cannot give you is a guarantee_. _I can only promise I'll do my best not to send you packing._

One thing was a guarantee, if this last week as any indication. I was wretched and utterly miserable because he backed off.

I wasn't the same without Jake. I survived, but with him in my life, I thrived. I wanted him around, craved sharing life's moments with him, big and small. Him being gone, unavailable this past week, that just brought to stark clarity how integral he is to me.

And the decision was that simple. Maybe it always was, but I refused to accept it. Refused to succumb to something that was so natural because of the fear of uncertainty. There would be no guarantees, but there was love.

I loved Jake, almost from day one. Was I in love with him? That wasn't something I was ready to dig into at the moment.

Slowly, I pushed to my feet, my fingers still lightly clasped in his. His quiet gaze stayed on mine, austerely observing. Waiting.

And right now, that was enough, because the alternative just wasn't anymore.

Rounding the table, my eyes fixed on the molten ones carefully watching me. Deliberately, my other hand came up, rested on the knot at the front of my robe.

And pulled.
TEN

Jake's lips parted along with the sides of my gown. I was nearly naked underneath except for a pair of pink lace panties. Cool air enlivened my unrestrained flesh, dancing over the widening gap of skin with each step I closed between us. From the feverish heat in his eyes, I didn't think he was aware he was on his feet. Wasn't aware he was gaping at me with hunger-struck craving so intense I nearly faltered, didn't realize his hold on my hand slackened until it dropped.

I had never been able to pull off the seductive act without feeling like an idiot at some point. The way Jake was regarding me right now, as though he could and would eat me alive and still want seconds, I didn't feel a bit of hesitance or uncertainty.

With less than a foot between us, I let the robe glide down my bare shoulders and slithered down my arms to land at my feet.

I gave him full credit for maintaining eye contact with me. For about three seconds.

Something hot and heady flared to vivid life as he slowly took in the perky, gentle swells of my breasts, the stiff centers that suddenly felt too heavy, and the taut, flat plane of my stomach to the pink of my tiny panties. His entire body tightened and his arms jerked up as if to rise but promptly leveled down on a muttered curse. His eyes shut for a beat, then two, and I could almost hear him cursing himself up one side and down the other.

Jake was nothing if not disciplined.

"You have to be certain this is what you want, because there is no going back from this. Not for me."

In answer, I pressed up against him and did what I desperately wanted to do a week ago. I ran my hands up his chest, relishing each hard sinew. It was me who bunched his shirt in my fists. Me who tugged it higher, higher still, until the taut strength of his abdomen peeked through. Me who didn't stop wrenching the garment up. Without a word he lifted his arms, allowing me to draw the odious thing off and tossing it aside.

Pale, slender fingers traced and measured, stroked and tempted. He was motionless, weighing each second as I grew bolder, and I leaned over to flick my tongue at the center of his chest. I heard him draw in a harsh breath, heard him mutter my name in warning. In need. My hands lowered to the snap of his jeans. One flip and it was undone. My mouth toured up his neck to flick my tongue at his chin while my hands appreciated the distinct contrast between solid muscles and supple denim. He definitely shaved this morning. I knew there'd be the beginnings of stubble by midafternoon, so I took my time and dragged my lips back and forth over his jawline.

Then he was on me. Palms on my jaw as he unreservedly devoured me. I held onto him, for dear life, as his insistent, claiming lips took what he wanted. He tasted me without inhibition or doubt, leaving me with little else but to respond in kind.

I was no longer grounded. Literally and figuratively. One arm banded around me while the other hoisted me up. My legs went around him, the rough of his denim scraping along my most delicate part. Within a minute my back was on the unmade bed, the sheet cool against my skin.

Fervent lips lathered open-mouth kisses around my breasts, worshipping the soft slopes. The stimulating, alluring scent of him and the shattering sound of his excited, labored breathing combined to clutch me into an alternate state between calm euphoria and relinquished arousal.

It went from light and languid to impulsive need in nanoseconds when his mouth returned to mine and he was staking his claim as we dueled in a frenzied mating of bold tongues. We recklessly ate at each other – wildly, vehemently - for what seemed like hours, sipping and tasting every crevice of my mouth until he was urgently grinding against me. The heavy press of his body, the frantic knees pushing my legs apart, and the wide, thick bulk trying desperately to surge through the barriers shielding my clutching center had me gasping into his mouth. I felt the heavy shuffling of his arms from above me and in the next second, he was gone.

"Jake," I puffed out, delighting in the desperate chopping rise and fall of his breaths.

In one swift motion his jeans were at his thighs, boxers with them. I swallowed back anxious air as he chucked them the rest of the way and he was completely, splendidly naked.

Anyone with eyes could see Jake was a large man. Evidently that applied to him _everywhere_.

Though he was near my feet, we were close enough that I could see the blistering arousal in his gaze, was more attuned to the arduous pants of each unsteadying gulp for oxygen. He didn't say anything but must've been reassured by what he saw, because the next thing I knew it was like he generated several arms and hands and they were all on me. My hair, jaw, shoulders, breasts, ribs, thighs, calves, and everywhere in between – nothing was left untouched – as his mouth honed in and latched on to my aching nipple and drew it in repeatedly, mercilessly, while fingers rolled and tugged at the other, already pebble hard, before switching to the other breast and practically inhaled it. He didn't even wince at the fist clutching his hair so tight it had to hurt. My back arched at the excruciating tension yanking me taut, wounding me up for the ultimate release that was just out of reach.

His lips nipped and dragged. Tormented and soothed. Hot, moist mouth opened over my panties. My eyes rolled back as he nudged the edge of the lace aside and eagerly lapped at the creamy, exposed flesh. But even that wasn't enough as he grunted with impatience and yanked the skimpy material off.

Instantly big, strong hands were confining my knees up and out and a moist, soft tongue was on me before I could even blink, picking up where it had left off only a second ago. It swirled, playfully but adeptly, knowing exactly how much pressure would make the air catch in my throat and when to increase that incessant tension to make me moan. His agile tongue flicked and slowly whirled from the very tip of my swollen clit down to the slick, silently pleading entrance, teasing, playing, until my back was arching off the bed and my fists wringing the cotton off the sheets.

I heard the feminine catches of my own breath as my muscles coiled and gripped. _God, he was good at this._

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined." His voice was harsh, tense, leashing back his own primal urges. "I waited for years. I can't wait any longer."

My muggy, lust covered brain registered the confession slowly. _He fantasized about me?_

I was close, so close, and he read my body expertly, gently suckling my clit, hard, sensitive, and straining, while simultaneously sliding a long finger inside my wet channel, fucking me with it, then adding a second one as I cried out, my body clenching and drawing at the busy digits. He groaned with approval but didn't relent, and I heard the slippery result of my release as he continued to pump at me, massaging my pleasure spot with curved, seeking, active fingers.

Crashing back down to earth and finally breathing again, I slowly opened my lids only to flinch when the tormenting tongue darted out. _Fuck_. "Jake." My clit was so battered the slightest pressure had my whole body jerking. I pushed at him to stop. "Don't. It's too sensitive. Oh God." My entire body tensed up as a third finger slowly urged its way in, rubbing at all the alert, beseeching tissues as the three stretched me so taut I couldn't move for fear I'd break right there and then.

He immediately stopped and looked up at me. "Am I hurting you?"

I wasn't going to lie to him. He'd know anyway. "A little."

"You're so small, sweet, and I just want to make this is as easy for you as possible." Pushing to his arms, he inched his way up, trailing his mouth up my torso, paying special homage to my navel, then up my side until he was raining butterfly grazes on the underside of my breasts. "Do you want me inside you?"

"If you stop now I'll hurt you."

He chuckled against my breast only to still instantly. A curse slipped out before he was gazing down at me sheepishly. "I don't have any condoms."

I tried to think back to a time when I would had needed such precaution and came up blank. Disappointed beyond words, I said, "Me neither."

The exhale fluttered against my neck. "Do you trust me?"

I grazed back the short hair at his temple. "Of course I do."

"I'm clean."

"Me too."

At the question in his dark, searing gaze, I nodded.

Dipping his head, his lips sipped at mine, sampling, savoring. I parted my legs wider when I felt him at my entrance, one hand guiding his way. And gasped into his mouth as the broad, steely length of him pierced through resisting tissues left too long at rest. Immediately I broke away from his mouth, frantically gulping in oxygen.

"Ssh... almost there."

I didn't know I was trying to push him off until the back of my hands met soft bed, long fingers laced with mine to keep them in place.

"Almost?" I choked out.

"You're so small. Feel so good. _Fuck_." That last was a half moan, half curse.

My legs were shoved so far apart the sides of my knees almost touched the mattress. If I'd been more open I'd have my own gravitational pull. I stifled back a whimper as he drew out and eased back in, a provocative rhythm of withdrawal and penetration inch by gradual inch, until finally my body grudgingly accepted the mass invasion and, indeed, wept with welcome.

" _Maddy_." He groaned in utter decadence as he increased the steady tempo. "You're soaking me."

There was no room for embarrassment or anything else other than the rigid bulk that was pushing me to the absolute brink. No way in hell, I mused absently, would I not be sore later, but I didn't care. I felt too crazy good to worry about it.

Angling his hips, he thrust upwards right into my happy spot and I cried out in pleasure, in pain, in delirium.

I barely felt the lips nuzzling my ear, frantic panting against my cheek.

"Let me come inside you."

I was on the pill, but since I wasn't capable of words just yet, I swathed my legs around him and held him tight.

Somewhere in vague, foggy climatic awareness I felt his body stiffened, the fingers clasped around my wrist tightening to near pain as the hot spew of evidence slammed its target for what felt like ten uninterrupted minutes.

He collapsed on top of me, all two-hundred and some odd pounds of him.

Our rapid, coarse breathing was the only sound for what seemed like an hour. Then, without a word, he eased out of me. I winced as the abused tissues adjusted and tried to recover. In a single fluid move he was off the bed and I could hear him heading to the bathroom. The faucet ran a second later and I waited, wondering what to say. Draping a forearm over my eyes, I vainly try to block out the filtered sunlight and the man whose soft footsteps were muffled by the aimless thoughts blending in my head.

The mattress shifted and the next thing I knew there was a damp, lukewarm towel gently pressed between my legs. And good for me, I didn't even jump.

More shifting. Hand lightly seizing my fingertips and drew my arm down. He was on his side, propped on an elbow, head on a fist, soundlessly watching me. I expected him to say something absurd or dismissive, to play it down, but instead he leaned down and pressed a long, delicate kiss on my brow. My nose. Finally my lips.

I attempted a reassuring smile, but I knew it fell short. "So now what?" I murmured. Whatever he planned, whatever would come out of his mouth in the next few minutes, I told myself I was going to be okay with it. This was something I went into with my eyes open, and I wasn't going to reverse my position after the deed was done.

A wispy finger was tracing the path his lips were on seconds ago, exploring my features. His gaze was soft, attentive. "If you give me a few minutes, we can do it again."

This time the smile reached its mark. "Okay."

A long inhale as he watched his discovering finger for a minute, then, "I have to fly out to Miami Monday morning. I'll be back Tuesday, though."

The smiled died. Trying to push down the disappointment, I wondered, "Why didn't you go directly from Nice?" It didn't make sense for him to fly back and forth unnecessarily.

"I wanted to come back." A brief brushing of lips. "Are you sore?"

I had to do a mental check. "A bit." Even though it was late morning, our voice merely hinted at the words. Since he was within inches of me, there was no risk of not hearing one another.

"How long has it been?"

"A while."

"I could tell." He only grinned when I whacked him on the shoulder. "It'll be easier next time."

"How long has it been for you?" As soon as the question was out I wished I could take it back. I really didn't want to know.

His smile didn't falter. "A while," he mimicked me.

I grinned back at him. "I could tell." I squealed and nearly leapt off the bed when he nuzzled wildly the ticklish spot on my stomach.

Then I could do nothing but moan as his mouth came back to mine.
**E** **LEVEN**

I was driving Jake to his house. When he'd landed Friday evening, he'd asked his driver to take him straight to my place, luggage and all, and had spent the night sleeping next to me. I was so out of it I hadn't even known there was someone in my bed other than me.

A few miles from his house a thought occurred to me and I shot Jake a glance before easing onto the freeway exit. "Can I ask you something?"

He continued to scan his smartphone. "What's up?"

"Why didn't you ever say anything about your plans? About me. Us."

Shrugging, he kept his eyes on the scrolling screen. "Does it matter?"

"Just curious."

"As I mentioned, we weren't ready, and I wouldn't have settled for a fling with you." Chucking his phone into the cup holder, he brooded out into the darkness beyond the window. "Then there was the matter of Josh Fieldergast."

I frowned. "Josh?"

"You were all about Josh. I couldn't spend one hour with you without you bringing him up every chance you got."

"It wasn't supposed to be a battle between you two," I commented as the car pulled in front of the iron gate and we waited for it to slide soundlessly aside after the security disengaged.

"Like he stood a chance against me," Jake muttered. "I let you have your fun, Maddy. That was it. He was never right for you. I just hung around until you realized it."

"I had no choice but to realize it. He left me after I refused to uproot myself and go with him."

"Like I said before, he was a fucking moron."

Jake's estate was on a peninsula in a quiet, family friendly community about twenty-five miles southwest of Downtown L.A. Quaint, roomy houses on dark suburban streets dotted with large estates with ocean views. Jake lived in one of the latter. Stretches of trees, well-tended shrubs, and endless expanses of greenery fluttered by ocean breezes separated one lot from another, giving one the impression of living in the tamed wilderness. Someone who didn't know Jake but judged him based on his background would assume he preferred to live in glamorous Bel Air or chic Malibu, but those were the people that didn't make the effort to get to know the man rather than the name.

"Have a goodnight."

His hand reached over to the console and, with a pointed stab at the button, shut off the engine. "You're not going anywhere but inside."

"It's late, and I'm sure you're jet lag and probably want to get some rest." The truth was I needed alone time to think, to evaluate how I felt about the latest development between us and what, if anything, should be done. "We'll talk later, okay?"

The entire weekend was so mindboggling and so beyond the limit of what I thought our roles were to one another that I desperately needed time to wrap my confused head around the whole idea. Sure, we'd been teased, speculated upon, been inquisition, and flat out presumed to be intimately involved, but I never paid it any heed. Why would I waste my time on something I knew no one understood anyway? My family and his knew the truth, so it didn't matter what anyone else thought or said.

Now things had changed. Or had they? For all I knew he did this with all his female friends. Not that I truly believed that, but when I considered how much Jake didn't share that aspect of his life, I couldn't help but harbor some uncertainties about what it all meant.

Calmly, he nodded once before pushing open his door, snatched up his phone, and fluidly extricated his big frame out of my little car. The air hitched out of me half in relief and half in surprise at his easy acceptance. My speculation was quickly dashed when within five seconds my door was pried out of the way and he was leaning over me with lengthy fingers releasing the buckle of my seatbelt.

"It is late. That's why you're not driving home by yourself." The palm of his hand was offered as he peered down at me. "Now be a good girl and come along."

"Patronizing prick," I grumbled. "You're an asshole sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes." His free hand cupped the side of my jaw, his thumb light and soothing as it brushed against my lower lip. "But I'm the asshole who worries about your safety. So humor me, sweet."

The sincerity behind his admission had my irritation deflating. How could I refuse that? I let him assist me out, knowing he was a worry wart. It came with being the responsible one always doing the right thing, and I couldn't find it in me to fault him for his concern, as annoyingly delivered as it was.

His warm mouth was on me as soon as I was out, tasting, testing, tempting, but it was over too quickly for my satisfaction. Keys were set in my hand as he closed my car door.

"Go on in. I'll just grab my things and be right there."

I eyed the keys for a moment, the Mickey Mouse keychain smiling up at me from my open palm, the happy rodent's silly grin huge and unreserved. I'd given it to Jake a few years back when I took my niece and nephew to Disneyland when Will and his family came down to visit. It was supposed to be a novelty for a moment, something to make him smile and toss aside, forgotten within minutes, but he'd surprised me by actually using the frivolous thing. Completely contradicting Jake's serious character and innocently dangling among the heavy-duty metal keys and the vehicle fob, it stuck out like a happy wild flower amid a serious industrial warehouse.

After retrieving my handbag from the rear seat, I made my way through the carefully landscaped, cobblestoned pathway that led to the heavy wooden double door entrance. Elegant, strategically posted solar garden lights outlined the inviting trail until I selected the single icon on the security system's access pad and the twenty thousand square feet house exploded with twinkling brilliance.

It wasn't long before Jake was barreling into the house lugging his suitcases with him. Other than Rosa, his competent lead housekeeper who spent weekdays there and was usually there from eight in the morning until five in the evening, Jake lived a secluded and unrevealing life. Since he valued tidiness and structure, a housekeeping staff was an absolute must, but anyone else freely roaming around his private sanctuary would be an invasion and an affront to his devoted sense of absolute self-reliance. More than half of the things that'd been printed about Jake Reed were either exaggerated or plain out imagined fabrications, including snickering bits about my role in his life. I often thought that if he could, Jake would gladly live in an isolated island with a library of great books and a cellar of exceptional vintage wines.

Massive panels of reinforced glass that ran from the bottom floor to the top level encased the entire west side of the house, inviting the mysterious Pacific Ocean indoors. As I headed upstairs, perfectly at home at his place, I shouted over my shoulder that I was going to take a bath. The truth was I was still a tad sore from the extracurricular activities over the weekend, and I wanted to soak in the tub for bit in the hopes of being able to walk tomorrow without looking like I spent the last few days practicing doing the splits while riding a bull. This, come to think of it, wouldn't be that far off from the truth.

With my hair pinned up, I took my time with the soothing ritual, knowing Jake was likely busy catching up on things with work and wouldn't mind my hour of soak. By the time I was done my fingers and toes were wrinkled and pale and the water had gone lukewarm. Feeling supremely better, I wrapped a fluffy white towel around my body and padded out of the guest bath barefoot.

Just in time to see Jake walk into the bedroom buck ass naked.

I wouldn't lie. My hungry gaze devoured him on the spot, watching with hitched breath as the pulse at his corded neck kicked up, fingers twitching as though warming up, and that beautiful, awe-inspiring woman-pleaser between his legs lengthened and hardened to solid steel, the bulbous head thick and smooth compared to the ridged, veiny breadth that displayed it. I felt my own skin tingled and my heart rocked as his purposeful, unabated strides that didn't falter until he was scooping me up with one arm around my back and a large palm cupping my ass. We let our greedy bodies communicate, my legs seizing him around his waist and my mouth fastening on his. The towel still clutched with a fist between my breasts dropped to break at Jake's muscled forearm behind me as I dove my fingers into his damp hair and clutched at the strands as his tongue swooped in and took over. The tips of my sensitized breasts chafed against his chest, the ache between my legs throbbing against his inflexible abdomen.

The air seemed to whoosh out from his chest when we finally came up for a breather. "Hi," he rasped, his forehead on mine. "Did you miss me?"

My lips stretched into a smirk. "Who are you?" And squeaked when I got a not so gentle smack on the rear. "Ow!"

He soothed my protest with another kiss. "Does this remind you?"

My arms went around his neck and my head dropped to his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to name this intense feeling overwhelming me at the moment, so I shoved it aside for now. I had to suck in a breath before I could respond. "The guy from the bar?"

His soft mouth cruised down the side of my temple to my jaw. "Try again," he murmured against my skin.

I bit back a moan. "Bra... Bradley Cooper?"

His lips froze mid motion. " _What?_ "

"No?" I didn't know how I had the strength to go from euphoric to laughter. "Channing Tatum? Leonardo DiCaprio? Shit!" My head snapped up as his palm connected with the flesh on my right butt cheek with a resounding slap. "That hurt!"

"Careful, Maddy, no man likes to hear another man's name from the woman he was kissing." Despite his words, he was rubbing a mollifying hand on my injured spot. The damp towel slinked down to the carpet. "Do it again and you won't be able to sit for a week."

"I had no idea you were so kinky," I mumbled but felt myself fidgeting restlessly for more of him. Lifting my head, I made sure he could see my narrowed gaze. "Does that mean I get to spank you if I don't like what comes out of your mouth?"

Whirling us around, he took us both out into the hallway to his bedroom. "If you ever hear me utter another woman's name while you got your perfect little hands on me, you have my permission to beat me as you see fit."

I thought we were going to bed, but that was bypassed without a glance as we cleared to the other side and through the opened glass door to the terrace. Cold ocean air immediately assailed my bare flesh and I sucked in an affronted breath. "Jake!" I shivered in the arms that tightened around me. "We're naked!"

"As it happens, I like us together that way." With one arm still around me, he tilted down to grab something before a soft, thick throw was tossed around me. Grabbing the edges, I let it cocoon us against the night chill as he lowered into a cushioned lounger and reclined back with me still straddling his lap. "Still cold?"

Leaning forward, I let my breasts crush against his chest as I shook my head against his neck.

There was always one constant whenever I was with Jake. No matter what we were doing, where we happened to be, or who we were with, I always felt safe with him. Protected. Treasured. Closing my eyes, I breathed in his familiar, clean scent. From his damp hair to the trace of freshly scrubbed skin, it was obvious he'd taken a shower while I was in the bath.

Jake was like a heating lamp and I found myself curling in for more of his warmth, the blanket a mantle around us trapping it in and making me feel nice and toasty against the bitter night. His home was situated in the suburbs that didn't have a lot of street lights, particularly around private oceanfront properties, but it being L.A. with its layers of artificial brightness hovering over the city like a dome, star gazing was not a feasible hobby. A sliver of moon was the only illumination that could be seen over the vast coat of darkness beyond the limpid terrace walls, lending more to the impression of tranquil seclusion. Other than the rhythmic crashing of waves and the steady beat of Jake's heart pumping with mine, there were no other sounds that could be heard from the otherwise still night.

With a wicked smile on my face, I ducked underneath the warmth of our cocoon and slithered down his firm body.

"What are you doing?" I heard the muffle sound of his chuckle just as I reached my goal. My tongue sneaked out and flicked at the underside of his engorged cock, loving the contrast between stubborn steel wrapped in velvet as I grasped it with my fingers and stroked him a few times. I felt more than heard his stark indrawn breath before I took him into my waiting mouth, moistening him with my eager tongue as I lowered my lips inch by inch. He was huge, so there was no way in hell I could take all of him. As it was my mouth was stretched to absolute capacity with no room for so much as a thought. I hummed deep in my throat at the appreciation for his taste, for the feel of him inside me where I could control his pleasure. He liked that, if the frantic lift of his hips was any indication.

" _Fuck_ , _Maddy_." The blanket was flipped over my head and I let my gaze lift to meet the crazed bliss in his. "Take more. That's it, sweet. You're so fucking beautiful." Tense fingers plowed into my hair, dislodging pins and sending strands falling all around me.

I slurped that thing up like delicious Haagen Das on a hot August day. He tasted so good, fresh and masculine. I writhed against his legs as my own muscles clenched and rippled in need and anticipation while running my tongue along the ropey vein underneath, then flicking it to capture the bead of moisture at the alluring tip and swirling the ridge. He was smooth and thick on top, a flawless plum ripe with juices. Jake's heavy pants and mindless thrusts into my zealous mouth urged me on. Swathing my lips around his substantial weight, I lowered my mouth once again to take him in, sucking and grazing, his fingers a vise at the back of my head that told me without words how much he was loving it.

Thighs rigid, cock taut, he fucked my mouth the way he wanted to, guiding me up and down as he watched with hungry fervor. I was prepared to finish him off right there and then with relish when he jerked me back and my tasty treat popped out of my mouth.

"Wait." He halted me with the rough demand when I made to ensnare him again. "Not yet. Bring that sexy ass over here first.

Before I did as he wanted, I gently dragged my fingernails up his balls and delighted in the hiss that escaped him. Switching angle until my back was to him, I threw a leg over him and straddled his long body. He didn't waste any time but immediately grasped my hips, positioning me the way he wanted. Cool air caressed my back but I no longer felt the night chill. With hands low on my cheeks, he used his thumbs to open me up further.

"I can see how wet you are, Maddy. You're dripping." A claiming finger easily penetrated inside, gliding along swelling tissues.

"Ohhh..." I moaned, my back arching at the exquisite sensation, of him intimately testing me, feeling me from within. A second finger joined the first as he enthusiastically fucked me with them. " _Jake_." My head dropped to his stomach, the tip of his magnificent cock right at my eye level, so I tilted up my head and took it into my mouth. Given the position and our considerable height difference, I could only take a third of him, but by the way his toes crimped adorably, he didn't mind one bit. What I couldn't taste I fervently pumped with my hand.

There was some shifting and my raised hips were pulled back. Fingers that'd been feverishly thrusting into me left but only to be replaced by moist lips and adept tongue. He tenderly explored me between my legs like he would my mouth, at times playfully, taking my swollen clit in his mouth and avidly sucking on it. There was no warning as my entire body convulsed on a cry muffled by my full mouth, his tongue swirling in and out of me to lap up my release even after the luscious trembling eased.

"Ride me, sweet. Show me how deep you can take me."

I shivered not from the exposure but from his words. On my hands and knees, I crawled the length of the glorious body on display beneath me, putting an extra sway to my hips for both our pleasure, tossing a brash look over my shoulder and nearly stumbling as the hot, barely restrained storm looked ready to be unleashed. Perching up over his cock, I guided him into me with a hand, delighting in every hard inch that slipped and strained within my already hyper alert tissues. My head fell back, my hair a curtain behind me as my body adjusted to his shocking size. His palms were on my hips, guiding me as I eased another inch of him. He felt much larger in this position, sloping inversely, piercing into me like I had no choice but to let him in.

"So big," I groaned in pain, in pleasure. "I want all of you. I want you so deep all I feel is you."

Fingers tightened on my hips until I thought they would bruise. Numb and mindless to everything but how he was penetrating me, I could care less.

"It's yours." The words were low and strained, forced out through gritted teeth. "Take it all. "

"Y-yes," I cried, bouncing on him with his hands as my anchor. My own hands slithered up my stomach to my breasts, kneading and pinching with wild abandon. "You feel so good."

" _Just like that_." He held me down as he grounded his hips up as far as our sweaty, laboring bodies would allow. I swore I could feel him all the way in my stomach. I keened, my elated muscles undulating as my hands instinctively clutched at his for purchase. "I can feel you coming," he panted. "Milking me. So fucking tight."

_So tight. So tight. Yes. Yes_.

Fostering, gripping tension exploded out of every inch of me as I fell back on a scream. Before I had time to fully come back to reality the back of my knees were cupped and my thighs were hooked against my chest with one of Jake's arms while he piston into me from below. He was grunting, his hips pumping madly as he held my legs locked together, my knees nearly to my breasts, a steadfast racehorse with one goal and one goal only.

To finish.

Too much. Too intense. Too irrational.

I didn't recognize the untamed sounds that were spilling out of my throat, part whine, part moan. There was nothing to hold on to as I felt the familiar coils twisting and pulling until I wanted to claw them out of me. I couldn't even arch my back against the fierce throbs pummeling at me. As though from a distance, I heard Jake's groan as his stiffened. Strong, bulging arms banded around and chained me as he bowed over, his face buried in my hair.

It might have been ten minutes, it could've been an hour, but we laid there in the darkened serene night, our breaths slowly regulating, and the biting air began invading through my skin. Bumps broke out on my arms and I shuddered. With me on top of him and him still inside me, Jake leaned as low as our lazy perch would allow and reached over for the discarded throw. When it wrapped around us, I gingerly let him slide out of me, the result trickling warmly out of me, and turned over to sneak a peek at him, fighting back a giggle at his grunt when my knee not so gently landed on a hard thigh in the process.

Lowering my head until my cheek was resting on his chest, I sighed contently. "This is nice," I murmured, my lids drifting to better savor the tenderness sneaking up on me. "I'm glad I stayed."

A lazy hand smoothed down my back under the warmth of the soft cover. "We can do this every night." Lips grazed the top of my head. "Once we're married. Just think, coming home to this after a long day. Enjoying each other. Then do it all over again the next day." His voice was low, unhurried, matching mine.

Maybe it was the cozy moment. Maybe it was because I was just so relaxed. Maybe I was getting used to the idea, but I didn't challenge or question the suggestion, deciding to go with his ideas just this once. "And what would we do with the kids?"

"We'll wait until they're asleep. Hire a nanny if need be. Occasionally haul them to Uncle Brandon's. Whatever it takes."

I traced a finger along his collarbone. "You make it sound so simple."

"Nothing complicated about being with you, sweet. It's the only thing that really makes sense." He was quiet for a beat as though deep in thought. The idle hand smoothed down to the curve of a buttock and just as sluggishly grazed back up. "How many kids do you want, Maddy?"

The finger that was on his collarbone lowered to his chest, twirling around a hair near a dime size nipple. "Two, I guess. Maybe three." Then I was outlining the flat disc, watching it pucker enticingly under my ministrations.

A male hand swept up to capture the busy finger. Then the hand was on my cheek until I was looking up at him. The intensity in the hot golden eyes nearly made me stop breathing.

"When?"

Like a stunned dork, my lips parted, shaping to form the only word I could. "When?"

"Get rid of your pills, Maddy." His voice was still deceptively mild, tranquil. He was dragging me up along his body, skin sliding on skin. "I want to come inside you and have it be useful. I know it won't happen right away, but the sooner you lose them the quicker we can start a family."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This was no casual, pretend fantasy teased in the dark and forgotten by light. He meant it.

He wanted to have kids. With me. Soon.

"Jake..." _What? Just spit it out._ "I don't thin—"

His mouth swooped down and silenced my protest before it began, forcing me to swallow back my words as he took control. It lasted no more than a few seconds. Unapologetically insistent. Instantly demanding.

We both sucked in deprived air after he released me. I clutched at his shoulders, not exactly sure what the hell just happened.

"Don't think, Maddy," he reprimanded harshly. "You just need to say yes. That's it. The rest will fall into place."

I could only stare at him, dumbfounded. Did he really think he could impose his will, force his plot onto me when I wasn't sure I was ready? Marriage. Children. Those were things so farfetched from my immediate plans that the idea was just that. An idea.

An idea for some time down the road, perhaps in another few years.
TWELVE

"You might have mentioned you were told to spy on me."

"I was not spying on you. I was merely enjoying your company. Besides," Brandon reasoned as I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder and dumped my handbag on the kitchen table. "If I'd let you in on the men's scheming, I'd have to let you in the tree house. And you know no girls are allowed there."

He was trying to make light of it, but I was having none of that. "Well, next time you're channeling James Bond leave me the hell out of it. I'm not kidding, Brandon," I said more forcefully when he started to snicker. "Jake can be neurotic, I get that, but I expected more from you."

It was Tuesday night, and Jake texted me earlier this afternoon letting me know he was on his way back from Miami. When he landed in L.A, he called me on his way home. Neurotic or not, at least he thought of me enough to keep me posted.

After the weekend we spent together, mostly naked but not necessarily in bed, it was comforting to know we could still be friends. I'd been receiving regular texts and sometimes scenic, at times outrageous pics of random things for two days.

But were we lovers?

"Uh, c'mon, Maddy. It wasn't that serious."

"Maybe not to you, but it pissed me off. So don't do it again."

There was a sigh, then, "Fine. Next time your boyfriend tells me to keep an eye on you I'll tell him to go screw a solar light bulb."

Against my will, my lips twitched. "He's not my boyfriend."

This time the chuckle escaped full force. "You might want to tell him that, my love, because I don't think he got that notice."

Knowing he couldn't see me, I rolled my eyes and went to retrieve my tablet. "You Reed boys are a riot," I declared dryly. Speaking of notices, I hadn't checked my emails for days. I wasn't one of those people who couldn't be disconnected, so my emails weren't setup to automatically notify me on my smartphone.

Brandon didn't miss a beat. "We got that from our father." He heaved out a breath. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't even think of it from your perspective. Every time he needed to travel, he told me to keep an eye on you. I never thought anything of it."

"Wait." My fingers paused over the screen. "Every time? Just how long has this been going on?"

"Shit. Years. Well, minus the months you were in Asia."

How could that be? My mind scrambled back over the years, agitatedly flipping through my memory bank... and sure enough, the immediate images that popped into my head confirmed it. Brandon was always around when Jake was out. That was how he became like a brother to me. "Why would he do that, Bran? I mean, I can take care of myself. Why does he feel the need to have someone babysit me?"

I could almost hear the shrug from the other end of the phone. "Hell if I know. He's just weird that way."

I was chuckling when I skimmed over my electronic inbox. There was an email from MHA's general account. Normally I'd have thoughtlessly deleted it, but the subject heading was JAKE REED, MIAMI.

There was something not right about the scenario.

"—would say?"

There was an attachment. I knew better than to click on anything that looked so suspicious. I vaguely remember our tech guy at MHA warning us not to open questionable attachments, but the email itself wouldn't normally contain anything malicious. I would never know what it was about unless I opened it, right? Hesitantly I selected the message. An odd feeling came over me, and I tossed a look at the front door to ensure I'd locked it.

"Maddy?"

Even though Brandon's voice was in my ear, whatever he was saying was far away in the crannies of my head. The body of the correspondence was simple and to the point.

_Jake Reed frolicking while girlfriend waits at home_.

There was only one attachment in video format.

Should I open it?

"You still there?"

Frowning and more than a little curious, my finger hovered over the icon, debating. Would spam specifically name someone I personally know and his whereabouts so soon after the fact? Again I looked up as though the answer was somewhere in the quiet house. On a silent breath, I selected the innocuous looking icon.

The phone I had against my ear, the one I'd forgotten about while in the midst of my conversation with Brandon, went off in my other hand. Clearly Brandon got tired of talking to himself and disconnected. Ignoring it, I watched black letters danced and formed one word on the miniature screen.

_Miami_.

The video that immediately followed was dark and peculiar in what looked to be inside a hotel suite, the sound muted and scarcely decipherable, but on closer inspection, I could make out Jake lounging on a sofa with his long arms stretched out along the back. It was an angled view, somewhere between full and profile position. Eyes closed and head thrown back, it almost looked like he was just sitting there relaxing, until I saw something – or rather, _someone_ \- moving on his lap.

Two heads. Both with long hair, one bopping up and down while the other was crawling up the side of him, her hand slithering up under his shirt to his chest.

She was naked.

It wasn't until the cutting image started shaking that I noticed my hand was trembling horribly, uncontrollably.

Then there was the sound. No, it wasn't muted at all, not if the vigorous, enthusiastic slurping and satisfied feminine purrs were any indication.

I hadn't realized everything had tumbled out of my limp fingers until the ominous, offensive contraption banged and clattered on the hardwood floor along with my own harmless smartphone. My phone shrieked for attention as though complaining of the maltreatment, but I scarcely heard it.

Without warning the hateful video changed. An image of me and Jake in the breakfast nook. Me in nothing but pink panties with my breasts crushed against his chest, lips locked in a fiery kiss.

Unsteady hands flew to my mouth, but I couldn't hold back the anguished cry that surged out like a bellowing monster from my constricted throat.

I couldn't look at it anymore. I wanted it, every single condemning, torturing second out of my house. Out of my mind. Out of my life.

As I stared, my view distorted by quivering, silent tears, I knew it was too late. The sordid, heart mincing images of the deep betrayal were branded in my head.

Short, angry swipes cleared my blurry vision. Crouching, I hastily scooped up the now blank device and shut it off, struggling not to pounce and stomp on it. I nearly fell on my ass when my discarded phone shrilled crossly and vibrated right by my foot. My hands froze as the caller ID and photo flashed and mocked me.

Jake.

I wanted to scream at the tarnished thing. Instead I got to my feet and backed up, one step, then two, watching my naïve instrument blaring next to the malicious one on the floor, willing it to seize its dogged, piercing cry for attention.

Someone left that for me, wanted me to see it with my own eyes.

Someone took that heinous footage and single, tormented shot of us of what should had been an intimate moment.

One taken with us secured inside my house.

I never ran so fast. Frantic legs pumped across the quiet kitchen. The drapes framing the wall of windows were wide open to the darkness outside. Behind my house were bare, unobstructed hills. Neighbors of the four-legged kind roamed among them at times, which was why I never felt the need to draw the covers.

Huge gray eyes stared back at me on the glass, shocked and mildly mad. My chest hitched as though I'd ran up that hill, the pants echoing in the otherwise dead stillness of the room. Nothing but blackness greeted me on the other side of my stunned reflection.

Was he there now? Watching me with his camera?

With wild, terrified jerks, I slammed the fabrics shut, my heart banging in my harried chest as I repeated the frenetic deed throughout the entire house until I was insulated by walls and artificial lights.

Then vaulted a foot off the floor when the phone peeled off again.

Alarmed, I stared at it as if it were a viper in the middle of my kitchen, waiting to strike at my heart. How many times it had gone off, I didn't know. Tentatively and with a bravado I forced onto my wobbly legs, I made to get closer. Again the lit screen revealed the caller.

Jake.

The agonizing, crushing pain was back.

Oh God. I couldn't talk to him. He would just have to go away.

How could he?

But I knew that if I didn't answer, he would show up at my door.

The quivering hand reaching down fascinated me. Was that me shuddering like an earthquake? I claimed the thing just as the ringing abruptly cut off. Within seconds it blasted in my hand yet again. As if in slow motion, I watched my timid finger swept at the mad screen and lifted it to my ear.

"Where the hell have you been?" The bellow shot out before I could open my mouth. "I've been calling you for the last twenty minutes. Brandon called, raving like a lunatic, and said you sounded like you were in trouble. I was about to call 9-1-1, for fuck sake! I'm already half way to your house!"

"Jake." The barely audible word was a mere tremble on my sluggish tongue, but it halted his overbearing rage enough for me to have my say. "Go home. I don't want to see or hear from you." I disconnected and, for good measure, powered it off.

For a long moment I stood there and just blinked, lost, unseeing, at what was presumed to be my shelter for the last six years. Among the ritual pieces of precisely selected furniture and handpicked accessories, I suddenly felt as though I was dropping by, passing through this house. More importantly, I needed to leave.

I couldn't stay here. Not tonight. Not after my domain had been viciously violated, my sense of security and privacy ravaged by someone's cruel intentions. To top it off, only a fool would expect dictatorial Jake Reed to turn around and go home like a meek toy soldier just because I said so, especially if he was already on his way as he'd claimed. That meant I only had about ten minutes to do what I had wanted to do when I first downloaded that loathsome clip.

Swiftly, I threw some overnight things in a duffle, grabbed my purse, and set off into my car. Belatedly I realized I shouldn't leave the incriminating device behind and raced back in to retrieve it. The garage door rolled up with nary a sound and I zoomed out of there in eight minutes.

*****

After driving around aimlessly for an hour, I ended up at Jonathan's front door in Malibu. It was either my brother or a hotel, and I wasn't about to attempt to get a room at nearly eleven o'clock at night. Besides, though it was hard to admit, I didn't want to be alone tonight.

"Maddy!" Chelsea exclaimed at the illuminated doorway, her mouth parted in surprise.

"Hi, Chels. Sorry to bother you guys at this hour." I hadn't called ahead simply because that would require powering up my phone. "May I come in?"

She immediately snapped out of shock. Gesturing a hand, she stepped back. "Yes, yes, come on in." Garbed in a floral print silk robe, her black hair loose and straight, she gave me a quick hug. "We weren't expecting you."

"Sorry," I said again, curling up my arm to show her my overnight bag. "I wasn't expecting to be here either. Is it okay if I crash here tonight?"

The astonished look again. I couldn't say I blamed her.

Her hand went to her throat, the concern so evident in her brown eyes I had the mean urge to collapse into useless tears. "Is everything all right?"

Shrugging, I let my stuff drop and turned away to plop on the sofa. "I don't want to talk about it. If it's okay, I'll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning."

"Of course, it is, honey. Jon wouldn't wa—"

"What's going on?" My brother strolled in dressed in plaid cotton pajama pants, bare foot and hair damp from a recent shower, his hard, defined chest still glistening with moisture – vaguely I wondered if I'd interrupted anything. Oh well, that was what younger sisters were for. His brows shot up to his hairline when he caught sight of me. "Hey, brat, what are you doing here so late?"

Chelsea elbowed him for his brashness as he came close.

It was often said that the resemblance between Jonathan and I was glaringly obvious. Though he inherited our dad's impressive height, and was, in fact, the tallest of the Volts, we shared the same shade of brown hair and light gray eyes.

And we can both be tactless.

"She's staying the night," Chelsea supplied and nodded toward my stuff. "Why don't you take those to the guest bedroom?"

A hand went up, perplexed. "Wait." Jonathan looked at me, trying to read my carefully schooled expression. "Staying the night? Are you lost? What's wrong with your house?"

Not able to meet his probing gaze, I stared at my bags instead. "Nothing." He remained silent, waiting for me to continue. When the expectant tension in the room thickened, I shot to my feet. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"No honey, he's just worried about you."

"You running away from your own home?"

They both piped in at the same time, though one was full of concern and the other a sardonic tease.

"Don't be ridiculous," I huffed. "It's not like I'm a criminal looking for a place to hide, for crying out loud. Can a woman spend some time with her family without having to suffer the inquisition?"

He shook his head. "Not like this. Something's up."

When I remained stubbornly closed lip, Chelsea put a placating hand on Jonathan's arm. "Let's talk about this in the morning. I'm sure she's tired, and you have an early meeting tomorrow."

God bless that woman.

From somewhere in the house, a phone began to ring. I was really beginning to despise those wretched things. Jonathan muttered something under his breath and trudged away, presumably to get the phone.

"Thanks, Chels," I said as soon as we were alone. "I'm just trying to sort things through and don't want to involve the family and get it all blown out of proportions. You know how Jonathan is."

Her lips tipped up in a small smile, but the concern and lingering distress were there. "Come on," she suggested and picked up my duffle herself, "let's get you settled."

Through the spacious, opulent living room, up the modern staircase to the second floor filled with framed family photos on the wall, Chelsea led me passed Charlotte's room, illuminated only by a dim nightlight, to the guest quarters at the far end of the property. As we approached, Jonathan stood at the doorway of what I knew was his office, his mobile pressed against his ear as his puzzled gaze found mine.

"Yeah, she's fine, Jake."

Instantly my eyes filled and I had to take a deep, quieting breath, praying the tears wouldn't spill over. Jonathan frowned but didn't take his eyes off me.

"You want to talk to her?"

I shook my head once, conveying silently my thought on that, and quickly picked up the pace with Chelsea.

"She's in bed," he offered without missing a beat, "but why don't you clue me in on what's going on." A pause, then, "How the hell would I know if _you_ don't know? She talks to you more than she talks to me. She's probably just PMS'ing—"

The rest of the conversation was cut off as I eased the door to the guest bedroom closed behind me.

"Don't listen to your brother," Chelsea mollified as she set the bag down by the dresser. "He's just trying to goad you into confiding. He hates not being in the know."

Feigning indifference with all my will, I sat on the side of the bed and lifted a tired shoulder. "It's men in general. They're all ass... holes." The last word ended on a hiccupping sob as without warning, the dam burst and tears flooded down my cheeks. "Every single one of them."

"Oh, honey." Within seconds pale, dainty hands were around me, smoothing my hair, rubbing comforting circles on my back. "It's all right. Let it all out."

My head landed on her shoulder and I allowed myself to weep, probably ruining her pretty robe. "I slept with him," I blurted and covered my shameful face with my hands.

All attempts at solace stilled as the hands froze. I could almost hear her indrawn breath.

"You mean Jake?"

I nodded on her but couldn't find it in me to detach from the appeasing warmth.

"Well," she stretched out the response as if searching for the right words. "Okay. That was unexpected, but it's not the end of the world," she soothed gently.

The sobs turned into loud whines. "I just found out I wasn't the only one!"

It surprised me how strong that tiny woman was when her arms tightened around me. "Honey, you can't mean to tell me you thought he was a virgin."

Sniffing, I replied, "No, I mean the day after me, he was already with other women. I don't know... I had hoped that he respected me enough to be upfront with me. To him sex is just sex. He's always been that way. God, I'm so stupid. I knew this about him. Sex changes everything." I inhaled and swiped an impatient hand on my cheek. Once the words were out I couldn't stop the confession.

"Maddy, anyone with eyes can see he's devoted to you." The hands resumed the pacifying rhythm of pats and strokes. "How do you know there's someone else?" she asked gently, not quite believing.

I tried, I really did, to hold back the cries at the reminder. I felt like an idiot sniveling all over my sister-in-law, but the excruciating pain needed an outlet, and she was the closest thing. "I sa.. saw it with my..." I swallowed and tried again. "My own eyes."

She stared at me, astonishment replacing incredulity. "You saw it?"

I nodded again and needed to shut my eyes for the next revelation. "They were on his lap. Naked."

The loudest gasp I ever heard poured out of her indignant mouth. " _They?_ That jerk!" The mattress shifted and then a tissue was held out to me. "What did he have to say for himself?"

The tissue was a soppy mess by the time I was done cleaning my face and nose. "I haven't confronted him about it. I can't deal with him right now," I promptly added. "He'll just make excuses and hurt me even more. Or worse, shrug it off like I'm overreacting. That would make me hate him."

A rasp on the door preluded Jonathan breezing in, radiating male bonding smugness. "Hey, brat, Jake wanted me to tell you he'll ca— _aw shit_." He bounced back a retreating step. "Are you crying?"

I hissed at him. "Go away."

Like with all the men in my life my demand went unanswered. Unsure of himself, his gaze jumped this way and that around the room as though looking for inspiration until finally, with fists propped on his hips, he glared at me. "Stop that nonsense now. He said he'll call you."

Disbelieving, my mouth dropped as I gaped at him. "Are you kidding me?" I howled at my dense brother before I thought better of it, knowing I was taking out my poor mood on him but couldn't care at the moment. "I'm not a fifteen-year-old girl crying because a boy didn't call her, you idiot!" It was a wonder to me how he could run the VVI offices with that stupid brain of his. "Now leave me alone."

"What are you yelling at me for? I wasn't the one who fucked up, whatever it was he did. And let me tell you," he got in to Chelsea before I could scream at him, "the man has no fucking idea what's going on. So as far as we're concerned, even though you're not fifteen anymore, you're sure _acting_ like it."

Swiveling around, I snatched up a pillow and hurled it at him. "Get out!"

He caught the harmless projectile and scowled at me. "It's my house!"

"Jon!" Chelsea sprung out of the bed, took the pillow from him, and started heading him toward the door. "I think you better just go on to bed. I'll be along in a bit."

"Do you have any idea what's it's like growing up with two older brothers who made it their life mission to pester you?" I asked when Chelsea clicked the door shut after a muttering Jonathan. "It doesn't matter how old we are, we revert back to our assigned roles without hesitation."

Fluffing the pillow, she returned it to its place before giving me a contemplative look. "I don't know. I'm an only child, but I always thought it'd be nice to have an older brother to protect and defend me."

"Did that sound like he was protecting and defending me?"

"That's just Jon's way. He's doesn't know how to deal with tears." She shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh but couldn't hold back the resignation. "You should've seen his face when he saw you'd been crying. What better way to get you to stop than to hassle you? But enough about him." She took my hand and patted it. "Promise me you'll have a talk with Jake, Maddy. When you're ready," she added when she saw I was prepared to argue. "At least it'll be out in the open and you'll be able to move on from it once it's settled."
**THIRTEEN**

Wednesday morning I was dragging my exhausted behind, dreadfully trying not to fall asleep on the road as I made my way to the office. My head was pounding a demented beat, and my eyes were swollen from all the bawling the night before. All those tears, I mused as I pulled into the subterranean parking, and for what? Nothing got resolved. I still felt like someone wrenched my pumping heart out and dragged it through the muddy swamp.

The evidence to all this torment was currently stuffed inside an inner pocket of my duffle bag, which I'd left secured in the trunk of my car. I'd made sure I left nothing behind when I walked out of Jonathan's place this morning, bright and early, so I wouldn't have to face either him or Chelsea. The memory of how I'd emotionally collapsed all over Chelsea like some weak, weepy female was enough to make me wince. Then there was the contriteness of coercing a promise from Chelsea about not repeating what I'd told her last night, especially to Jonathan.

During the endless, sleepless night, I'd come to the conclusion that I would need to speak with Jake, but a confrontation was far from what I had in mind. Whether or not what happened between us and what I saw after destroyed any trust I had in him paled in comparison to the realization that whoever had taken those images had plotted and executed it flawlessly. Given the nature of those candid and compromising footage, this person would go to the extreme to achieve whatever it was he or she – they? - was trying to accomplish.

We were snooped, stalked, and preyed upon, and Jake needed to be aware of it.

Rounding the corridor to my workstation, I gave another early bird, Zach, a forced smile before plopping my purse down on the desk.

And could only stare, heart choking, at the manila packet perched on top of the keyboard. No address, just my name printed on top. Swiftly, I glanced around the office, but it was hushed with nothing or no one out of place or anything unusual.

My stomach slammed to the floor when footsteps sounded behind me. I whirled and came face to face with a startled Lulu.

"Geez, Maddy, you scared me." She came closer and eyed me with trepidation. "You okay? You look awful."

Mentally shaking myself, I forced a reassuring smile. "I hate mornings," I dismissed with what I hoped appeared to be nonchalance. "How are you?"

She didn't seem convinced at my mediocre explanation but let it go. "Great. You'll be feeling better too once you hear what I have to say." Clasping her fingers together, excitement radiated from every one of her pores. "We're going to be presenting to THS next Thursday," she squealed on springy, bubbly legs. "They'll be here in the studio, and Ryan wants us to wow them."

"Next Thursday?" Suspicious, I shook my head. "Isn't that a little too soon? I mean, we just submitted the RFQ."

"I know, but they're really pushing to get this done. It seems the powers that be decided they want the resort's grand opening to be next summer. That only gives us seven months."

" _What?_ "

Lulu nodded, causing her glasses to slip another notch down her nose. "Crazy, right? But Maddy." She flashed me a contagious grin. "I know we can do this. I know _you_ can do this."

"Does this mean they'll make a decision on the firm soon?"

"Yup. They'll make the decision a week after the presentation. The client will be here at ten, so make sure you get enough sleep the night before."

Her offhanded advice reminded me of why I was sure I looked like hell. "Right," I agreed. "Um, Lulu." I waved a hand at the bland envelope on the keyboard. "Do you know who left this for me?"

Frowning, she shook her head. "No. I was here pretty early, but I was at my desk. I didn't see anyone near here until Zach came in."

We both swiveled to Zach. With headphones jammed in his hears, he was leaning toward his monitor, his attention obviously centered on whatever he was doing. He was our drafter and the resident expert on the Building Information Management software, Revit. He was also twenty-two with a face full of red, ripening zits.

Somehow I couldn't see him lurking outside my house with a long lensed camera or jetting off to Miami and still able to come into work.

"Is something wrong?"

Lulu's anxious face pulled me out of my grave contemplation. "No, just wondering."

"No offense, Maddy, but you don't look too well. Why don't you go home? We need you in top form on Thursday, and you need to be rested." Her head cocked in the direction of the executive suite. "Don't worry. I'll tell Ryan you wore yourself thin on the RFQ and is now recovering for the life or death presentation next week."

I knew she had a point and, quite frankly, I needed some place private to deal with the new menacing package. As if the evidence wasn't enough, I didn't need witnesses.

The envelope burned in my hands before I tossed it into my trunk to join the duffle. A half an hour later I was hesitating over the threshold of my house, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.

Get a grip, Maddy. This is your home. Just put one foot in front of the other and deal with it.

Obligatory pep talk accomplished, I gulped in a lungful of air and plunged on. The clacking of my heels on wood echoed as I performed a swift tour, making sure all the windows were secured and the drapes drawn. Then with nervous fingers, I slid open the parcel and shook the contents onto the kitchen table.

Old fashion, black and white photo spilled out.

There was only one. Jake with an older looking man I'd never seen before. They were both wearing suits in what looked to be a typical restaurant, half-eaten meals still left on the table. There was nothing notable or extraordinary about the scene.

Considering the ramifications of the last one, why send me something so innocuous?

Was I supposed to know who the other man was? It appeared to be a business meeting, a normal day in Jake's routine life.

It dawned on me then. This wasn't about me. I wasn't the target. Not really.

Jake was.

For the first time since last night, I powered up my mobile without a second thought. Ignoring the new texts and voicemail alerts, I dialed Jake's number at the headquarter offices of R Hotels & Resorts International.

The stern, all business voice of Jake's assistant answered. "Jake Reed's office."

"Sonia, it's Maddy Volt."

"Good morning, Maddy." Her voice softened with plain affection. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, thanks." My gaze trained on the snapshots and I quietly puffed out the air stuck in my throat. "I need to see Jake. Today. The sooner the better."

"I have his calendar open on my screen." A mouse clicking, then, "He's in a meeting most of the morning. How long would you require?"

"Fifteen minutes, tops." Just long enough to show him the prints and warn him.

"He's having lunch with Mr. Reed at noon – senior, that is, but he has a short opening at eleven-thirty. Would that work for you?"

It was just past nine o'clock now. "That'll work, please schedule me in." The wall of glass that allowed Jake's executive suite to visually keep taps on the goings on directly outside of his office popped into my head. Though it was unlikely, I didn't want to chance someone catching a glimpse of the photos. "And Sonia, is there a private conference room where we can meet instead of his office?"

"Oh." She faltered, but when she spoke again, she was coolly composed. "Yes, that can be arranged."

*****

Oddly, after I had made up my mind to let Jake in on what was going on, there was a strange release on the burden that had imprisoned me, a calmness that prevailed over the turmoil. I was still hurt, a wound I wasn't sure any amount of time would diminish, but at least I was capable of rational, productive thoughts and reasoning.

It turned out that was absolutely necessary for my sanity, since gossip queen Jonathan spent the morning filling Will in on last night, who subsequently told all to my overprotective dad, who naturally called my worry-prone stepmom. Before I knew it, I was pulling my hair out trying to calm her, assured my dad that Jake hadn't attacked me and that I wasn't running for my life, and fought off, yet again, Will's not so subtle pressure to move back to San Francisco.

In between fielding off frantic phone calls and pathetically banging my head against the wall, I even managed to take a restorative nap.

It took a half an hour to get to Jake's office in Century City. At eleven twenty-eight, Sonia showed me to an expansive conference room with views of competing high rises and glimpses of the bustling city on a clear day. Comfortable in her fifties, Sonia let the proud gray in her short bob speak for her maturity. The only make-up I'd ever seen her wear was a touch of lipstick. She was always impeccably dressed and was traditional enough to only wear long skirts or dresses, pantyhose, and sensible pumps to work.

"Can I get you anything, Maddy?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

"I'll let Mr. Reed know you're ready for him."

She hesitated at the door as though she was going to say something more, then apparently changed her mind and went out.

I set the package from this morning and my tablet on the long, glossy black marble table but found I was too wired to sit. It had started to drizzle, I noticed as I stood in front of the windows. Angry gray clouds hovered and misted over the city, warning of the incoming storm, the first of the season.

The gentle hum of the central air unit was the only thing I heard for a minute. Though the office was comfortably warm, chills raced up my skin and down my shuddering spine. I wrapped my arms around myself in an effort to preserve my own body heat and absently watched the darkening, brooding sky open.

I had no idea what I was going to say or what his reaction would be. All I was certain was that I wasn't going to stick around and hash it out with him. Not now. Not here. Perhaps not ever. There was a part of me that knew I had no claims on him, that his private life was his own and I willingly went into a sexual relationship with him knowing there was no obligation for either one of us. All that talk about marriage, about kids. The unreasonable side of me, the chunk that broke off and cracked into thousands of wounded, ragged pieces, had expected more consideration, courtesy even, from him.

Expectations. How Jake despised them.

What infuriated me even more were the lies he told when he returned. After all this time, all that we'd been through and shared, and everything he understood about me, he didn't value what we meant to one another enough to just be upfront with me. Despite giving myself to him physically, I would have worked for our friendship if he'd just told me the truth.

I thought I deserved more than that.

No sound announced his arrival, and though my back was to the door, I knew the second he stepped into the room by the shift in the air between us. A muted click of metal latch told me we were now secluded from the usual bustle on the other side of the wall. Since I hadn't been in the room for more than a few minutes, he was evidently anxious to get this over with as much as I was.

"Jake," I acknowledged without moving.

"Maddy."

Now that the time had come to literally lay it on the table, unease began to seep in. Perhaps I should have asked Sonia for a drink. A stiff one. "Thank you for seeing me. I know you're busy."

"You didn't have to make an appointment."

"It was necessary." I got the impression he was taking my lead, trying to gauge my mood. I was certain the subdue formality we both adopted would help us get through this. On a deep breath, I mentally braced myself and finally turned to face him. "I won't take too much of your time."

He was standing a few feet inside the room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tailored charcoal slacks. The button shirt was so white I distantly wondered if it was new. Somehow the royal silver tie made the gold in his eyes stand out.

Though the nerves were biting, my hands were steady, my eyes dry.

"Tell me what this is about," he prodded.

My gaze landed on the items on the table. "I think you need to take a look at those."

He didn't hesitate, didn't question me, and took the steps necessary to bring him to the table. Unwavering hands flipped the first envelope over and slid the content out. His gaze quickly scanned through the single, perplexing photo. Jaws clenched so tight I could almost see the veins bursting out of the sides of his neck, he repeated the routine with the second bundle and wordlessly went through the motion of the damaging video I'd proactively prepped on the device.

"Where did you get these?" The question was like shattered glass, sharp and lethal.

"One was sent to my email, the other was left on my desk at work."

"When?"

"Last night and this morning. At least, that was when I discovered them." The hard part was done, and really, it was going better than I'd hoped. We were just two people taking care of business. One more thing, and then I was out of here. "I think you know the implication of those images. Someone means to cause some damage and is not afraid to get down and dirty to achieve it. The obvious questions are who and why."

His rigid gaze met mine. "Have you told anyone about them?"

"No."

"Jonathan?"

"No."

"Do you have a problem with my keeping them?"

I laughed, completely devoid of humor. "Be my guest." I was practically naked on that single still shot on the footage, but I knew Jake would have the utmost discretion, but more importantly, it seemed a higher priority to get to the bottom of it. I watched him jam the items into the packet without a word.

With that, my part was satisfied. "I'll let you get back to work."

I made it as far as the door before a furious male voice snapped, "Ask me, Maddy."

My eyes squeezed shut as my hand desperately clutched the handle like a lifeline. So close.

_Please don't do this_.

"It's none of my business, Jake," I murmured and flicked my wrist on the handle for sweet escape.

A large hand shot out and slammed the door so hard the walls rattled. The split second was just enough time to catch the startled looks of a few heads outside before I jumped back from the resounding force.

"Ask me."

He wasn't touching me. In fact, his palm stayed against the door, securely ensuring I couldn't get out until he was good and ready to let me go, but I felt the weight of his rage like a hostile, pressurizing mantle, surrounding me from all sides and stifling my every rapid breath.

I shook my head, angry and humiliated all at once, imminent tears burning at the back of my eyes. I squeezed my lids tighter in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay and strengthened my resolve. "I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Good. Then I'll say my piece and you can take it or leave it."

"No." I couldn't stop shaking my head as the first outraged tear rolled down my cheek. I was an emotional wreck and I knew it, but I couldn't seem to rein in the implosion. "What you do with your time is your choice." Trembles raked my body as I snatched at the door handle again. All I managed was to jangle the lever raucously as Jake held it in. "You can't keep me here."

"Don't you want to know who they were? What they meant to me?"

The vivid image of those women actively pleasuring him bombarded my mind and something in me snapped like a dry, fragile twig. I whirled and shoved a trembling finger an inch from his nose. "Shut up!"

It didn't make me feel better. The only thing that accomplished was to piss him off even more. He manacled my wrist with iron fingers. I flinched and tried to wrench away. "Don't touch me!"

"They're nothing." His voice was low and hard, just as desperate. Anger and hurt fired out of his turbulent gaze. "Not a fucking a thing. It happened months ago." Releasing my hand, he cupped my face and brushed at the wet cheeks with his thumbs.

I wanted to scream, to kick at him like a three-year-old in mindless tantrum, but I knew that would get me nowhere and only worked to make me look like an absolute fool, more so than I was already. "Take. Your. Hands. Off."

He ignored me. "Don't cry, Maddy. Just don't." Then his solid, warm arms were around me, pressing my face to his chest, his deep voice nearly a plead. "There's no one else, sweet. I swear it. No one. Don't want anyone else."

For a second, a weak, momentary lapse, I basked in the snug, comforting embrace. The instant was fleeting, and I was trying to push away from him to no avail.

A brisk knock sounded from behind me. Without waiting for a response, the door was promptly opened and shut again.

"Jacob, I could hear your voice all the way from my office."

My already jumbled body froze at the voice. Oh great. Jackson Reed.

Jake's body tensed along mine, his arms slackening marginally but did not let go. "My apologies," he responded curtly.

As though my wet, splotchy face wasn't mashed up against Jake's chest, Jackson offered by way of greeting, "Madison."

Sniffing back the stupid tears, I mumbled against Jake's fine but badly wrinkled shirt, "Hello, Mr. Reed."

"Will you be joining us for lunch?"

What? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with this guy? I was distraughtly hanging on to composure by a broken fingernail and he was asking about lunch?

Lifting my head, I wiped at my cheeks just as Jake produced a tissue from somewhere. "No, thank you," I said suitably to Jackson but gladly took the hankie. "I was about to leave."

"Very well then. Will we see you on the twenty-seventh?"

Mortified at what I must look like but knowing I couldn't hide against him any longer, I gave a last forlorn effort to mop my face with the soft cloth and met Jackson's casual, inquiring gaze. "The twenty-seventh?"

As always, Jackson's posture was erect and impressive. He was a couple of inches shorter than Jake, but his commanding and imposing temperament easily overshadowed the height difference. Not a single strand of silver hair dared to be out of position, flawlessly and immaculately groomed. His eyes were an undecided shade of green and brown, alert, superior, and often times strategic, his face artfully lined to enhance rather than taper his ruthlessly attractive features. It was obvious to me why even in his early sixties, women younger than Brandon still foolishly flocked for his attention and affections. Rich, attractive, powerful men always made for a challenge for some women.

"Jacob's aunt Vivian's sixtieth birthday celebration." His eyes went to Jake, passing a look between them. "Jacob assured me he was bringing you."

Had Jake mentioned it? There was so much going on lately I honestly couldn't say if I remembered. Good thing that was still a few weeks away. "Um... well. I'm not sure." Taking a step back, I felt Jake's arms drop and faced Jackson head on. "I'll be in San Francisco for Thanksgiving. My brother Will had the arrangements made, so I have to confirm with him about my return date." Since I wasn't sure where Jake and I stood with each other, I wasn't about to make that kind of commitment anyway.

Another look passed between the men, so quickly I would have missed it if I hadn't been standing between them.

"It wouldn't be the same without you, Madison. I'm sure Jacob's anticipation of the event will diminish if you're not able to accompany him."

Yeah right. Jake hadn't said a darn thing since his crisp apology to his father. He most likely didn't give a hoot one way or the other but didn't want to voice it in front of Jackson.

I gave the older man a bland smile, which no doubt looked ridiculous with my red, swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks. "Jake survives fine without me, so I wouldn't feel too bad about it." It must piss Jake off for us to discuss the matter as though he weren't in the room, but still we had nothing from him but persistent silence. "But I'll be sure to send Vivian my best."

The truth was I liked Vivian Reed-Moniker. She was a relatively normal, limited drama, vivacious woman with a good heart, and I might have considered attending – though not as Jake's guest - if I could be at two places at once.

"Are you certain we can't persuade you to change your mind?"

"I'm afraid not."

Jackson nodded once. "That's disappointing but understandable." He turned to leave. "Jacob, I expect you to be ready for our engagement at twelve."

"There's no need," I jumped in and smoothed a hand down my mussed hair, knowing there was nothing further to say with Jake. "It's time for me to go. Have a good day, gentlemen." Without a backward glance and feeling eyes burning my back, I preceded Jackson out the door while struggling not to feel like the drama queen I was certain he and a few others in the office no doubt thought I was.

Thankfully since it was near lunch time, there weren't as many people milling about the office. A few turned their heads as I strolled by on my way to the elevator lobby, but at least no one whispered behind their palms. Rather, no one was obvious about it while I was still there. Head high, I had just rounded the corner to the lobby when there was a near head to chest collision. Brandon's hands automatically whipped out to steady me.

"Maddy! I heard you were here." The ready smile slipped a few notches as he took in my face, which I was positive reflected my self-indulging crying jag down the hall. "You okay?"

I lifted a shoulder, let if fall aimlessly. "Yeah." His hands cupped my shoulders and I exhaled loudly. "Just... stuff."

"I heard about the 'stuff' going on in the conference room. In fact, I think the whole floor heard it."

"Oh God." Mortified, I hung my head and rubbed at the pounding in my temple. "Please tell me you're exaggerating."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You mean that wasn't you screaming, 'Harder! Harder!'" My head jerked up to catch the wicked gleam in his eyes. "It sounded like you moaning in there. I was getting a boner just listening to it."

"Brandon!" I smacked him playfully on the chest. "You're disgusting."

He laughed. "You like me that way." Throwing a friendly arm around my shoulders, he led me toward the elevators and pressed the button on the panel. "You have time to grab a bite?"

The thought of ingesting anything made my stomach curl, but the prospect of sitting at home alone with all the windows drawn wasn't exactly enticing either. What was more, Brandon could always be counted on to refresh my mood. "Yeah, sure. You're hard to say no to."

He beamed at me. "That's what I like to hear."

"Just give me a few minutes to freshen up in the ladies room."

Since the restrooms were near the elevators, I made quick work of using the facilities and trying to repair my face with the limited cosmetics in my handbag, but I made due. Brandon had his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets when I returned, unobtrusively reminding me of Jake just a little while ago and I fervently shoved the thought aside. He gave me a handsome, encouraging smile as he called for the elevator a second time. We both stepped into the empty unit a minute later and I let him select the appropriate floor. Before there was even a second to prepare he dipped his head and fixed his mouth perfectly on mine.

What the fuck?

It was only a brief contact, but my head was still spinning when he lifted, bestowed me with the irresistible Brandon Reed wink, and inclined his head to someone outside that I couldn't see just as the elevator doors slid shut.

As though he hadn't just blindsided me, he asked carelessly, "So what do you feel like eating?"

"Umm..." Shaking my head in an attempt to clear the haze, I tried to assume the same easy, cavalier demeanor. And I thought Jake had erratic moods. "Soup sounds good."

We ended up at a cozy café down the street from the building that housed R Hotels & Resorts International. Lunch time crowd shuffled in and out, some ordering take-outs while others dined in with their smartphone in hand. The small square table we claimed was against the wall near the back and afforded us some privacy. I ordered a cup of chicken soup and a Caesar salad while Brandon exclaimed he wanted lots of proteins and fat with the cheeseburger and fries.

"Tell me something, Brandon," I started when I noticed him eying the brunette two tables over. "Are men always looking for greener pasture? With women, I mean."

Reluctantly, his gaze swung back to me. "You're the greenest pasture there is, my love."

The unexpected laugh that rumbled out of me felt good. "You're so full of shit." And the biggest flirt I'd ever met. "Where did you learn to charm a woman like that anyway?"

"It's true." He held a hand on his chest over his heart. "If you were mine, I'd as soon cut my eyes out than to glance at another woman."

I ignored that. "Have you ever thought about \- oh, I don't know - maybe love? The beauty of sharing your life with the one person who appreciates you for who you are?"

"You're serious?"

"Of course."

Brows drew, considering, he admitted, "I'm not built for it. The forever thing." The easy and matter-of-fact response suggested he knew and accepted that fate long ago. He took a sip of his soda and gave me an enigmatic look. "Have you?"

"I guess." Restless fingers began fidgeting with a paper napkin. "I mean, who hasn't?"

"And when you think about it, is it with Jake?"

I watched the shredded white pieces litter the worn table. Where was that food? "It's not like that," I explained in a small voice. "We're just friends." With benefits. At least we were.

Leaning over, he waited until my gaze rose to meet his. "Then what's it like, because to be honest with you, quite a few of us are perplexed by the two of you." He gestured with a hand. "One minute you're joined at the hips, the next you're shouting at the top of your lungs at each other. It's like you're an old married couple, yet neither one of you will admit to anything." Once again relaxing back against his chair, brown eyes held steady as he whetted his point. "Jake's not... he's not an affectionate person. In fact, he can come off as a cold, unaffected hard ass. Staff see him coming their way and they turn around to take the longer route." He shook his head, clearly at a lost. "But he's different with you."

"We're just comfortable with each other." The napkin crushed in my hand, and I took a pointed breath to collect myself before there was a pile of paper carcass. "He's not into me that way. Not really. I'm the one he hangs with, but there are those he... enjoys. Physically, I mean."

Brandon didn't say anything for a minute. The waiter came and efficiently unloaded our plates before hustling off to take the order from another table. The scent and sight of the steaming soup made my stomach protest, but I picked up the spoon nonetheless, hoping Brandon wouldn't detect I was merely playing with it. There was obviously a lack of appetite if Brandon's aromatic, grease satiated burger and fries held zero appeal to me.

I could feel Brandon's eyes considering me. "Was that what the fight was about?"

It was my turn to be silent. I wasn't sure how much he'd overheard, but for an easygoing character, Brandon could be rather observant, which was why a dark brow quirked up when I'd yet to take a bite.

A fight. Was that all it was reduced to? It seemed too tame a word to properly encompass the emptiness, the desolation. Although Jake had a ready explanation on the women, I wasn't buying it. There was more to the story, and the pieces didn't add up nice and neat for me.

"It wasn't a fight," I explained after a few awkward moments. "And it's none of my business who he spends time with."

"But it bothers you." He put down his burger and snatched up a fry. "You know how I know?" He twirled the fry around. "Because you haven't touched your food, but most telling of all, you haven't touched _mine_."

I couldn't keep my lips from twitching. "Smart ass." Inwardly I tried to tell myself to snap out of the funk, but it was hard given the dismal topic. "Can we talk about something else?"

The fry disappeared into his mouth as he flashed me a grin. "Sure. Just one more thing before I really put the moves on you. You won't stand a chance when I do, by the way," he teased and wiped his fingers on a napkin before gulping down a quarter of his drink, his features sobering as he met my drained gaze. "I don't know if there are other women. Jake's always been tightlipped, even with his own family, but I just can't see it. He's crazy about you. He about lost his mind when he couldn't get a hold of you last night – and Jake's _always_ calm and unruffled during urgent times. But again, with you it's different."

Wonderful, I brought out the maniac in him.
FOURTEEN

Even though I wasn't in the mood, I thought that was more of a reason for me to lose myself in the China project. I spent the rest of the week and the weekend at the office and dove into formulating a fantastic presentation, desperately trying not to dwell on my precarious bond with Jake. I kept my phone on but didn't bother to respond to or even check for any texts or calls. When I was in the middle of a mind-consuming mega project, those things could wait.

The small team and I put together marble, wood, and lighting samples along with a color palette. Cal and I hustled with mockups and last minute conceptual design modifications while Lulu went through an array of classical tunes to accompany the demonstration. Something relaxing and romantic, she mumbled, with lots of soulful violins and deep, straining cellos to accompany Zach's kickass 3D visual.

When Jonathan called me the day of the confrontation with Jake to inquire if I'd be joining them again, and if so, Chelsea wanted to know if I had any preference for dinner, I decided I wasn't going to let the peeping Tom drive me from my own home anymore. Even if I didn't get more than a few fretful hours of disruptive sleep at night, I wasn't going to be scared away from my home. Knowing I'd be elbows deep with work, I declined the dinner invitation as well. I wasn't upset with Jonathan, even though I knew he wouldn't, on his own, have been that thoughtful and that Chelsea was probably the one behind the gracious call, but he was my brother and that was just how we handled each other.

Monday before the big presentation, we ordered take-out from a local Chinese restaurant – Cal thought it was appropriate and might even tune us in even more to the project – and didn't wrap things up for the day until after ten. By then I was so exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, that all I wanted to do was go home and crash.

It was when I was packing up my things to head out with the others that I happened to glance down at my phone and discovered a missed text from Jake from over an hour ago.

Are we ok?

I stared at that one question for a moment. The million-dollar question. I wasn't sure how to answer it since I didn't know, nor did I have any idea what to say to him to make me okay – to make us okay. Did I want us to overcome this painful void between us? With every fiber. There was this knife wedged in my body that I was still trying to decide if it'd be better if I just yanked at it in one swift motion or intricately slinked it out.

_Don't know_.

"You coming, Maddy?" Cal called from the elevator bank just as I hit _send_.

Dumping my phone in my handbag, I shrugged into my coat and met Lulu and Cal. Zach had left a half an hour ago, claiming he had a dog he needed to take out before he went home to a pile of surprise.

"So," Cal began when the three of us were in the elevator. "How was the hangover?"

Lulu not so discreetly slanted Cal an exasperated look. It took me a second to realize he was referring to happy hour that Friday night and my unusual overindulgence. So much had happened since then that it seemed much longer than just over a week, but I couldn't help but fidget a little in embarrassment.

"Wasn't too bad," I told him. "But I probably won't be doing that again anytime soon."

"It was because you didn't have anything to eat." Empathically, Lulu patted me on the arm. "It happens. Lord knows we've all been there."

The elevator coiled to a stop with a gentle bob and we made our way down the quiet lobby. Given the time, the night security guards were the only people lingering about.

Cal kept his gaze ahead as we headed to the second bank of elevators to take us to the high rise's underground garage. "Your friend Brandon was certainly helpful. He seemed excessively worried about you, considering you only had a few drinks and wasn't even falling on your feet," Cal put in conversationally. "But then again, he was probably hoping to get laid."

"Cal!" This time Lulu's expression was downright comical. "Don't be a jackass. Not every man thinks with what's inside his pants."

Unperturbed, Cal only lifted a shoulder. "Believe me, that one was. You'll do well to remember that, Maddy."

"Guys, relax." I couldn't decide whether I should be amused or offended at the thought they both considered me so gullible. "Though I won't agree or disagree with your observation, Cal, Brandon's like a brother to me. I don't worry about my safety when..."

Lulu's steps abruptly faltered. I glanced back and watched, transfixed, as blood colored her olive skin face just as her chin dropped a full inch. In slow motion, her glasses slithered until they clung to the very tip of her nose as her mesmerized gazed trained on something ahead of us.

Wondering what could have stolen Lulu's attention so radically, I followed the direction of her view and didn't even have time to grab hold of my stomach as it nosedived to my frozen feet.

"Hey." Dark, wavy hair damp and finger combed, Jake stood with his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his black jeans, watching our approach with a quiet gaze.

_Shit. Not here. Not now. I can't handle anymore drama_.

I didn't know how long I was motionless and blinking at him in a daze, but it must have been an awkward while because Cal took it upon himself to make the requisite introductions.

It was nearly a week ago since that fateful day in his conference room. I hadn't seen or talked to him, nor did I have the energy to put in the required effort. Why was I so surprised to see him? I shouldn't have been, considering Jake had a tendency to beat something to near death or until he got his way, whichever came first. "I wasn't expecting you," I finally managed.

He inclined his head and gestured at the waiting elevator. "Which level are you parked?"

It had apparently escaped my distracted notice that Cal and Lulu were already in the idle car with Cal's arm extended to hold the doors open for us. I caught Lulu's rapt gaze as she mouthed _he's gorgeous_ to me as I joined them, followed by Jake, his hand cozy at the small of my back.

Yes, he was, not that it mattered. "Seven, please."

Did Jake come all the way here just to walk me to my car? That would be ludicrous. Was he planning on round two? That would have a higher probability.

As the car began its soundless descent, Jake tilted his head down to graze his mouth against my temple, his warm, soft lips lingering on my skin so long it bordered on improper. Given that there were two others within inches from us, most likely speculating what this strange guy was doing here, and the loitering hush that seemed to swap the charged air, it was a rather intimate and revealing gesture. I made it a point not to flinch and to keep my focus on the elevator panel but could almost hear Lulu's dreamy sigh behind us. When Jake straightened it was to brush my hair back one side to rest behind my shoulder, then twining his fingers with my edgy ones, and I felt the familiar warmth that seeped and swathed into the devastating chill that had resided in my bones since last week. The hand tightened as if he knew exactly that and was making every subtle effort so that not a speck of me left unaffected.

I said nothing. Did less. Determined to be woodened, I neither held Jake's hand back nor returned any of his attempted public display of affection, which is a rare feat that must be killing him.

We arrived at level two to drop off Lulu. All too soon Cal was hailing a goodnight and a, "Nice to meet you," to Jake before stepping out onto level three, leaving me and Jake alone in the obstinate silence.

Something occurred to me as I watched our destination approach. "Where's your car?"

"If all is right, it should still be at the office where I left it. Ricardo brought me here," he revealed at my puzzled gaze. "Since it was after hours, I wasn't sure the building's visitor parking was still in operation. So," he added as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors unhatched, "I was hoping you'd take pity on me and take me home."

"You could always call Ricardo back," I suggested, referring to the driver for R Hotels & Resorts International executives. "I'm sure he's at the Reeds' beck and call anyway. Everyone is." Ignoring the look he tossed me, I stepped out into the garage. Since Jake was still firmly clasping my hand, he had no choice but to follow.

"Does that mean you're planning to leave a helpless man stranded?"

"Helpless would imply you have no means. You, Mr. Reed, hardly falls into that decrepit category." Though the garage was well lite, all the slots were empty except for my black Lexus. I didn't know whether it was my paranoia, the development of the last few days, or if it was because I was still uncertain about Jake, but for some reason an increasing sense of unease crept into my awareness.

Passing scans around the perimeter of my car didn't reveal anything suspicious. The muted, distant noise of Downtown traffic and the rapping of my heels on concrete were the only sounds that could be heard. I tugged on my hand purposefully as we neared my car, but the stubborn man only rubbed his thumb back and forth on it and refused to be dislodged.

"Are you really going to make me call Ricardo?" Jake asked as we reached the car. "The man has a wife and five kids. It would be inconsiderate of me to take him away from his family this late in the night." His breath puffed out when I chose not to comment on his pathetic and presumptuous attempt for a free ride. "You're still mad at me."

"No, Jake. I'm not mad at you." To ward off the gust of icy air that raced over my vulnerable flesh, I huddled deeper into my lightweight coat. "I just don't know what I am, and I think that until I do, it's best if we just... I don't know." The intensity in his acute gaze made me want to squirm like a child trying to come clean after questionable deeds, so I studiously stared at his black Nike sweatshirt instead. Oh right, it was Monday. He probably went to the exclusive gym at his office building before coming here. "Take a break from each other."

He didn't yell. He didn't laugh it off. He didn't argue. In fact, he didn't look to be fazed by a thing. "What will taking a break do for you?" he voiced quite reasonably, all logic and deduction.

I hate it when he was rational. It made me want to slap some emotions into that stoniness. "For starters, it'll give me time to think."

"Think about what?"

Flipping up my hands, the unpredicted motion throwing off the bind he'd held, I snapped, "Things, okay? I want to think about things. The weather. Christmas. My career. The fact that you were fucking someone right after me! Is that good enough for a break?"

Anticipating his next move, I swiftly sidestepped him and wrenched open the driver door. "I'll take you home, but I won't argue with you anymore." I climbed in without waiting for a response. Within seconds the passenger door was thrown open and Jake was folding his considerable length into my little car.

"I already told you I was not fucking them or anyone else after you." The door slammed with an angry thump that rocked the entire car. "That was a while ago, forgotten as soon as it was over."

Finally, some emotion. The engine jumped with a healthy roar as I pierced him with a heated gaze. "Ever heard of the saying _a picture is worth a thousand words_?" I threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the slot.

"This is the last time I'm going to say this. There's. No. One. Else."

With effort, I swallowed back the enraged, hurtful retort that was ready to leap out of my tongue and worked at sucking in the cool air, letting it calm my skin. Jake had always accused me of being too emotional, of reacting and saying things with my heart rather than my head.

The city was still dripping from the earlier storm that quickly blew east. Raindrops glistened at the slice of my headlights, and I said nothing as I maneuvered onto the freeway out of habit rather than deliberation. I could feel Jake stewing next to me, the air so thick and erratic between us it was a storm of its own.

The sensible, charitable side of me accepted his clarification at face value, that he cared about me enough not to have done something like that to hurt me, but I wasn't sure I could trust myself to trust him. To my knowledge, he'd never lied to me. I wanted to believe him so badly that I was afraid I was doing exactly as Jake had attributed about me so many times before: reacting with my heart rather than common sense. My brain told me things weren't adding up, while my foolish, susceptible heart told me to throw myself at him and let the chips fall where they may.

Dangerous thing, that heart.

Over twenty miles and just as many minutes later, Jake intruded and broke through the heavy suppression, his gaze pensive as he stared at the sluggish traffic. "I don't want to fight, Maddy. There are never any winners when we argue," he put in as though reasoning within himself. "I just want us to be okay, and I know we're not. So it's a lost."

He wanted us to be okay. What the hell would that be? Back to being platonic friends or fucking each other mindlessly and repeatedly until we both couldn't walk? I didn't know how to respond to that, so I refrained from it.

I took the turnoff that led to the tranquil, lightless neighborhood of Jake's private domain.

"What did you do with the package?" I questioned when we were a few blocks from his estate, partly because I was curious on the approach he was taking with this ugly matter, and partly because I didn't want him to think I was giving him the silent treatment.

"I gave them to Todd Neustrung, Director of Security. We've been looking into it for the past few days."

We pulled through the black iron gate to his estate, both lost in our own thoughts. The car veered up the paved path to the circular driveway and stopped near the front door. I allowed a small, civil smile as I turned to him. "Goodnight, Jake."

He elbowed open the car and slinked out of the low seat, refastening the door without a word. Within a heartbeat the driver side door was gaping and the enduring wet air gushing in.

With a hand at the top of the door, he leaned in and held out the other to me. "I'd like you to come in."

I guess he hadn't been listening. On a mental sigh, I shook my head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I think we said all that needed to be said today."

"Spend the night here." The gold eyes were impenetrable but beseeching at the same time as he reached over and switched off the car. "I don't want you to be home by yourself. I'm sure you jump at every noise and haven't gotten a wink of sleep listening for it. You always have a bed here, you know that."

I really hated it when he was right.

He had a valid point that I couldn't argue. For days I slept with one eye opened, my ears keenly attuned to anything unusual. As a result, sleep was a distant memory and not one I could afford to luxuriate in my dark, susceptible home. After the provoking, cunningly threatening images left on my email, I was more than a little anxious about spending the night alone at home. Though I wouldn't admit it to Jake or anyone, I had been starting at every rustle or bump and probably magnified it tenfold until I was a nervous and exhausted wreck. I knew that I'd have to get over it eventually, but given the crucial and demanding presentation on Thursday, I wanted to be at the top of my game, which meant I needed rest this week and plenty of it. Crashing at Jonathan's again was out of the question since it would be all over the Volt gossip line tomorrow morning and I'd be tackling replays of frantic calls from Frisco.

Not giving me another chance to object, he took me by the elbow and guided me out into the brisk night sharpened by the oceanic waft. I buried my fists in my coat pockets and shivered uncontrollable as I fought back petty irritation. He was so dictatorial sometimes. Even after all these years it was a struggle not to do the exact opposite of his demands just to be contrary, no matter how juvenile I knew it to be.

I let Jake lead me through the shrub lined pathway like a good little girl, my artic hand encased warmly in my coat so he wouldn't get any ideas and grab one as though our world hadn't turned over. He disengaged the security system with a click of his free thumb. He let me precede him inside and I sighed in ecstasy and relief at the comforting heat gently flowing out of the central system. Setting down my purse, my hands clasped the lapels of my coat when he beat me to it, sliding it off my shoulders from behind before his strong arms came around me.

"You're cold." A husky murmur drifted by my ear. "Let me warm you up."

"I'm fine," I commented and tried to step away, but his arms were latched together, effectively locking me in.

A soft, questing tongue darted at my earlobe. "My heat is your heat." The restless mouth cruised down to my neck. "And when we're married, it'll be yours legally. Along with everything I have."

I shivered, not so much from his words but from the sensually deep, persuasive timbre of his voice and the incredible lips that were making a mockery out of my mental resolve. My knees weakened dangerously until I sucked it up and locked them. This was insane. One touch from this man and I was a spineless puddle. It was like my pressurized body recognized and pleaded for the muscle clenching, mind numbing, geyser relief he could ignite.

Since body temperature could not be considered an asset, he had to have been teasing. Not ten minutes ago we were barely speaking to each other, now he was talking about marriage. Double insanity. "I'm not going to marry you," I contradicted readily. "You just want to get laid."

I felt the smile pressed against the tender skin of my jaw. "With you." Kiss. "Always." Kiss. "Anytime." Kiss. "Anywhere." Kiss.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" The words were hardly more than air wheezing out of my parted lips as my lids gave in and drifted.

"Is it working?"

"Hmm..." My hands cupped his just below my breasts. "No," I thwarted firmly and had the element of surprise in my favor as I shoved his hands off and met his frustrated gaze. "No!" I barked sternly and shot up a deterring finger in his face when he made to grab at me. Obedience trainers had nothing on me. "I'm not here to play games with you, so you can just stuff that monstrosity," I waved at the vicinity of his protruding, pulsating anatomy, "back in your pants. I'm going to take a shower."

I didn't dare turn my back on him. Giving him my most unyielding, don't-mess-with-me glare, I backed down the hallway. "I mean it," I declared as he followed me with his predatory gaze and I practically bolted to the guest bath when I cleared the corridor.

*****

Every toiletry I had ever needed was graciously stocked in the guest bath. In the white cabinet along the wall, my preferred soap, shampoo and conditioner, facial cream and body moisturizers, toothbrush, toothpaste, and even a hairbrush were ready for me in a lined wicker basket with Madison stitched in pretty silver script along the front. A few intimate garments - panties, bras, and sleepwear – were held in the drawer below the cabinet that Rosa routinely kept in clean and organized fashion.

There had been many incidences where I had to take advantage of Jake's thoughtfulness in this regard. He never liked me driving by myself at night, so whenever we ended up at his place, whether it was a cozy night in or an extended day at the beach, he'd insisted on my staying over until morning. The few pieces of various clothing in the closet and armoire of the guest bedroom could also be attributed to his attentive paranoia.

The steaming hot water sloshed down my body and I closed my eyes as the jet stream beat down my hair. Peach scented shampoo quickly filled the luxurious grotto shower in river stones as I massaged my tingling scalp, the frameless glass that housed the door on one side gleamed and sparkled with rivulets. The oversized showerhead pelted soft water like cascading rain, soothing my tensed muscles. It'd been a long and trying few days, and the sooner this madness was over, the better I'd be able to return to routine and my normal way of life.

My mind quickly wondered back to the detrimental prints that never strayed too far from my consciousness. Someone was after Jake. Clearly, it didn't matter who got hurt in the process. The list of suspects was probably so long it required multiple pages. It could be anyone from a disgruntle employee, a rivaling competitor, one of the scorned women Jake casually enjoyed and just as quickly forgot, to some blood-lusting paparazzi sniffing around for a story, though I would imagine if that was the case, the recording and photos would've been all over the internet by now.

Which begged the question, what did this person want?

Was this blackmail? Where was the demand? And why use me as a means?

I screamed and jumped a foot into the thick air when a pair of large, foaming hands cupped my hips.

"Shh." Leaning down, Jake nibbled at my lips. "It's just me."

Water clung to my lashes as I take in a very naked Jake. Tight, corded abs contracted as he reached for me. Water dripped down his hard, sculpted arms and glistened against tan, taut skin. Steaming spray hit and bounced on wide, sturdy shoulders. Swallowing subtly – I hoped – I absolutely refused to allow my gaze to travel any further than my eyelevel, which to my disconcerting inner peace, was the defined pectorals that bunched with each relaxed gesture.

I smacked his upper arm so hard my palm stung. "You scared me half to death!"

He didn't even flinch. "Sorry, sweet," he droned from deep his chest, holding me loosely. "I got tired of waiting. You smell good." The words were drawled as he buried his nose in my just washed hair. Swaying smoothly from side to side, he drew me into a delicate, leisurely dance under the steady, metrical beat of the splashing water.

Jake was an excellent dancer. Smooth but vibrant, his body quickly became part of the beat, the essence of the tempo. His partners were always delighted with his easy skills and effortless lead, marveling at how a man his size could move so fluidly with each measured cadence.

That was, when there was music.

"Ur, Jake? You want to tell me why we're dancing in the shower?" Naked. With my wet breasts plastered against his hard chest.

He only smiled against my temple and, if possible, bringing me even closer to swirl me around the spacious stall as though we were on a glossy dance floor.

"I like holding you."

Shaking my head, his arms only tightening when I tried to disengage from him, I did my best to detach myself. "I'm still mad at you." Never mind that I told him I wasn't on the drive over.

His chin rested atop my head, weary and resigned. "I know. I can only assure you I was telling you the truth." Leaning back, he made sure our gazes met, his wide gold flecks imploring. "There hasn't been anyone for months, Maddy. Since before the summer, if I recall correctly, though when exactly, I couldn't tell you... but I know for certain it wasn't last week or even last month."

Left unsaid but was hanging vibrantly silent in the space between us was when and who it was – or who _they_ were – couldn't be recalled because the pesky details just weren't important enough.

I had to ask because it was burning a hole in my stomach every time I thought about it. I glanced away, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. "And are orgies your usual thing?"

Puzzled, dark eyebrows drew. "Orgies?" Then in an instant his eyes cleared – which was good because I wasn't about to draw him a picture. His lips tightened but he didn't look away. "That was hardly an orgy. And no, I'm not in the habit of simultaneous partners or how many numbers one can add up in a room. That day... I was annoyed with my father and the world in general and overindulged myself at Midnight Sun," he explained, naming the trendy rooftop bar at the Miami R Hotel. "In hindsight, the over enthusiasm of those women should've been a clue something was up, but I was too far gone at that point."

Snickering, I watched my finger twirl at the chest hair in front of me. I vaguely remember Jake having a disagreement with Jackson when he was in Miami earlier in the year, something he'd brought up on the phone with me that day and had just as quickly dismissed at the time. "Why didn't you mention it before?"

He blew out a breath. "To be quite honest with you, I'd completely forgotten the incident until last week when you threw it in my face. Maddy." He waited for me to lift my gaze. "I'm sorry you had to see it. If I could go back and change it, I would. All of it."

"You don't owe me an apology, Jake. Your sex life is your own," I reasoned, and I meant it, regardless of how much I hated the thought of it, much less seeing it with my own eyes. As much as it disturbed and shocked me, we both have a past, though I couldn't say mine was as colorful as his as I was always a one-man woman. As long as that _was_ in the past, I would learn to accept and deal with it. "I won't lie and say it didn't hurt, that it didn't occur to me I might not be enough for you. Hear me out," I rushed on when I saw he was about to interrupt my sincere confession, letting my forehead drop to his wet shoulder. "Whether or not that's the case, it doesn't change the fact that we made no commitment to each other and you can very well mess around with a hundred women at a time."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, is that it?" The slippery body had stiffened, the cool words a palpable contrast to the alluring warm fog surrounding us. "Like father, like son."

My arms wrapped around him. "That wasn't what I meant." I knew how much his family history riled him and had guessed that a part of him blamed his father for what happened to his mother. "You're nothing like Jackson."

"That's right. Remember that."

Those were his last words before he plundered my mouth, his commanding tongue pillaging all I had, effectively and completely consuming any doubts I might have otherwise attempted to voice. His arms shackled me so tightly against his chest not even water seeped between us.

_So good_ , I thought and gently suckled his tongue. A low groaned escaped his throat before his hands were on my ass, roughly kneading the flesh. The entirety of my being responded like a switch was flipped. The breasts squished against him felt every centimeter of pressure, every soapy abrasion as the tips puckered for desperate attention. My quivering stomach was poked and rubbed against a determined member of Jake, and I lifted a knee to his hip, hoping to fill the aching, throbbing wet void of my center.

The hands slid down to the back of my thighs and hefted me up, the air whooshed out of me and into his mouth as my back struck the slick stone wall, but there was no time to digest the obvious carnal intention when he dipped his head to devour a sopping breast, priming and enticing it with his dexterous tongue before a hungry growl crept out of his throat and he drew a tender pink tip in and suckled it greedily.

My muscles spasm with painful craving with each insatiable tug of his moist mouth. Unabashedly, I rubbed my throbbing heat against him, teasing the wet entrance. The memory of how that huge muscle filled and stretched me to ripping lusciousness had me moaning in plead and clawing at the bulging biceps anchoring me in place. I folded my legs around his waist as his hot mouth captured the other breast and sucked so hard I was afraid I was going to come right there and then.

It vaguely crossed my mind he was purposefully leaving marks on my tender flesh, branding me, but I lacked the mental capability to give a shit at that crazed moment. Long, questing fingers skimmed up and down the sensitive, twinging flesh between my parted legs and my head fell back against the hard stone behind me. I was scorching up my own skin, sizzling the water that dribbled down at me.

His eager mouth was so capped over the swell of my breast that a wet suction sound escaped when he pulled free, only to run the tip of his tongue up the side of my neck to my earlobe.

"Tell me what feels good." His voice was deep and husky as though he'd already spent the night groaning in abandoned ecstasy. "What do you like? What do you want me to do to you?"

"Anything." I arched my back, effectively stroking the heated cock with my impatient, weeping flesh. I felt a surge of triumphant lust as he hissed out a tortured mutter. "Everything."

A rough, dampened finger gently circled over the ridges of my opening, over and over. "Everything?" he whispered darkly through the roaring in my ear. Strong but soft lips came back to my mouth, but instead of claiming it no holds barred, he merely pressed a light, reassuring kiss. "Just like that, Maddy? That simply forgiven?"

There was nothing simple about forgiveness, but I decided to not let the past dictate our future. "Yes," I groaned into his mouth.

Another light kiss landed on my uncertain mouth. "Anything you want." Then another. Soothing, encouraging. That tormenting finger lowered to trace a burning path down to my ready opening before pushing in to separate yearning tissues. I felt every inch of that contrastingly aggressive digit part the clinching muscles, exploring, testing.

"You are so sexy, you know that?" A second finger joined the first and I whimpered in tense response. "You make me so hard. I can fuck you for hours. Days. Weeks. Centuries. And I still won't want to stop."

"Yes," I cried as his hand began pumping faster to accommodate the silent demands of my wanting body. "Now. Fuck me right now."

Without warning he let my legs slide down his thighs, spinning me around until my palms slapped against the uneven surface of the beige and russet tiles. Rough, focused fingers gripped my hips and angled me back until I was nearly doubled over and jerked me down to meet his rigid thrust.

The breath trembled out of me. I thought I was ready for him, throbbing for him, but his size didn't make the abrupt penetration easy. His hard cock strained my muscles to full capacity, the intense pleasure fought with discomfort as he pushed and breached a straining path to my center over and over. I could almost hear him grit his teeth in focus as he bent his legs and hammered into me with a mind only for maximum pleasure. Warm water pelted my back but only droplets reached my head so close to the wall. I looked over my shoulder and found Jake single-mindedly watching his huge, glistening cock relentlessly ramming into me again and again, biceps bulging as he tightened his hold on my hips even more. Sensing me, those beautiful, intense eyes flickered to mine but immediately went back to where my snug grip on him had his head falling back and his throat groaning in cherished gratification.

Swiveling back, I constricted my inner muscles, milking him for all I was worth and loving every second of it.

" _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ "

Changing the slant of his thrusts, he plowed into me and I cried out as he repeatedly, harshly slammed into my sweet spot. My arms shook from the effort to hold myself up against the wall, hardly recognizing the raw, carnal sounds coming out of my mouth. Then a finger was pressing into my clit and that was it. I lost myself in a scream of blind ecstasy.

I didn't know how long I was out or how far off the planet I'd flown, but when I came to there was a strong arm holding me up around the waist and my back was pressed against a solid wall of unforgiving chest. A large hand was on my breast, squeezing it firmly but not enough to elicit a protest. Lips skidded along my temple, and I could feel the smile pressed against my skin.

I turned my head slightly to the source. "Pleased with yourself?"

A masculine, satisfied chuckle was my response.
**FIFTEEN**

Tuesday flew by with a whirlwind of frantic preparations and last minute presentation brainstorms that had me in utter exhaustion. Well, having Jake all over me throughout the night didn't ensure a good night's rest either, though it did annoy me to no end to wake up and find him up and ready to go as though he didn't just spend at least half of the seven hours in bed inside me, while I had to drag out the morning after racing to the bathroom first thing because _someone_ left what felt like a whole gallon of _love juice_ – Jake's smug words – and felt it gushing down my unsuspected legs as soon as I got up.

An advantage of waking up together that I hadn't experienced until that morning? I got to watch Jake get dressed. There was something about a man, particularly an attractive, finely built specimen, adorning his public armor, a material facade he portrayed to the world while you knew you got to see the inner self at the end of the long day, that made you appreciate his physique even more. The long, dexterous fingers that deftly clasped each button on a crisp royal blue shirt, one button at a time over a firm chest, and the purposeful twists of the wrists as he wrapped and looped a sharp yet stylish black tie, the wide, powerful shoulders that shrugged into the black tailored jacket were a magnificent sight that had now seared into my sighing, long term memory.

I was drained from my night with Jake and wasn't my best that day, but I did stay late to make up for it. Lulu, Cal, Haley, a junior designer who'd been asked to assist with the spa project, and I slaved until almost midnight and put together a kickass presentation. Jake had an afterhours board meeting, so I didn't have to worry about interruptions.

And fortunately, there weren't any surprise packages waiting for me.

The whole week of the presentation was a mad cocktail mix of pure adrenaline with a measured dash of panic. The team must have done three to four practice runs with repeated last minute modifications, critiques from fellow staff who politely sat through the presentations without complaint, and Ryan's hovering reminder that this was the project that could skyrocket or smash my career if I screwed it up. I hardly had a minute to check in with Jake, but luckily he wasn't one of those men who needed constant reassurance, and since he knew I was out of this world occupied with work, he pretty much left me to it with only the occasional text reminders for me to eat.

I hit the ground running Thursday and was in the office by seven in the morning. THS wasn't due to arrive until ten, but we needed as much time as possible to setup and to ensure everything ran smoothly. Lulu and I spent nearly the entire three hours working with IT and the office assistant in making sure the equipment was just a switch away from _go_ , that the room was arranged the way that worked best for the demonstration, including dimming the lighting to the greatest advantage, and even working with the caterer in positioning the assortment of pastries, coffee, juice, and the variety of utensils and napkins these things required.

Ten minutes past ten the anxious project team was impatiently standing around in the gleaming conference room when Ryan Berkshire ushered in a serious but immaculately dressed group consisting of two men and a woman. It wasn't until Lulu subtly nudged me that my eye landed on the last of the newcomer.

He was even more beautiful up close.

Reddish brown hair shone as he walked further into the room, his tall, sculpted frame dominating the room as he scanned through each of us with a keen eye. I had the impression he was filing a distinct description of each person for later reference. His eyes were a deep, vibrant green, careful in their steady observation. I recall wondering about the color of those penetrating eyes a couple of weeks ago at the restaurant when Lulu and I spotted him having lunch with Ryan. It didn't surprise me he didn't appear to recognize either me or Lulu, his interest mild as he stood with the rest of THS.

Ryan quietly closed the door behind him and formally made the introductions. Obligatory handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged. Thomas Sorensen, CEO, Cindy Wang, VP of Operations and Development, and the Senior VP of PR and Marketing, Robert Carnes, were going to be the ones to determine whether my career was going to take off or if I should consider packing my desk.

"Lulu is the go-to person if you have any questions about the RFQ." Ryan gave them his million-watt, just-sign-here smile. "And this is Madison Volt, the indispensable project manager and senior designer who is going to be the key in making Skylight Spa the second wonder of China."

_Oh sure, no pressure there_. "Pleasure to meet you," I offered and accepted the pretty dainty hand of Cindy Wang, a petite woman possibly in her early forties, with shiny black hair cut in a chic bob that swung around her chin every time she moved. She granted me a polite but open smile with envious full lips.

Robert Carnes looked to be in his thirties and was quickly recognized as the outgoing extravert, but I supposed that was necessary given his position. Attractive teeth flashed when he smiled, and he bestowed them on me as he took my hand. "I'm a fan of your work, Madison, principally the unique and eye-catching use of mosaic flooring in the _Playful Vegan_ chain."

"Oh," I replied. Even though MHA had won design awards for the _Playful Vegan_ work, it always startled me when people complimented my portfolio. "Thank you, Mr. Carnes. I appreciate you saying so. It's my plan we will surpass that achievement with Skylight Spa."

"Rob, please. And I have to admit, Thomas was the one who introduced me to your inspiring creativity."

My gaze instinctively swung to the stunning man observing the brief interlude with quiet disposition. "Mr. Sorensen." My hand was clasped in a dry, warm grip. "Thank you for allowing us this exciting opportunity."

"Ms. Volt." His voice was low, smooth. Bedroom voice. Eyes the color of spring narrowed speculatively. "Would you be related to Vincent Volt?"

Not by a flicker of an eyelash did I reveal my surprise or sudden unease. Though I was fretting inside, my gaze stayed easily on his as I shot him my practiced smile. "He's my father. Are you acquainted with him?"

The look he gave me was best described as... familiar, especially considering we just met. "He helped me get my business started. How is Vincent?"

He still had my hand, though my fingers were already loose around his. I wondered if he'd forgotten about it. "He's well, thank you." _Note to self, ask dad about this guy_.

"Shall we get started?" Ryan was practically rubbing his hands together as he gestured around the long table.

I was sweating buckets and praying it wasn't obvious. Lulu skillfully opened the demonstration and I took over with the details, everything from suggestions for materials to projected budget to timeline. The audience was rapt and periodically interrupted with questions and the occasional input and observation. Ryan was mostly silent, his role understood by the MHA team to be that of the politician and not that of the technical mediator. Throughout the anxiety-filled three-hour meeting I felt every second of the vivid green eyes following me like I was a rare performer on stage, making me mentally stumble a number of times. Mr. Sorensen didn't speak much, but when he did everyone paused mid-thought to carefully reflect on his words.

"Well done, Ms. Volt. That was quite an impressive demonstration." Thomas Sorensen praised quietly from his seat as we concluded, an elbow on the table as a thumb and index finger forming an L to casually frame his striking face. "You have quite the gem in your employ, Mr. Berkshire. My compliments."

Mr. Berkshire was right next to him, but Mr. CEO didn't even bother to flick a glance his way as he supposedly directed that comment to him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sorensen, but it was a team effort. Lulu, Cal, and I worked very hard together to create what we believe will make Skylight Spa the superior and preferred haven for those looking for R and R."

"My compliments to Lulu and Cal, as well then," he amended readily.

Why was he just staring at me?

"Yes, yes," Ryan put in. "These are the stars of MHA and are clearly the right choice for Skylight Spa. I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the official accolades we've received, thanks to their dedication, and Maddy's vast knowledge and predilection for sustainable designs, as well as recent overseas project experience, make her the natural leader for the project. And Cal's innate sense—"

I tuned Ryan's ostentatious spiel out. If the presentation didn't sale it for MHA, nothing Ryan could say at this point would change that. I darted a glance at Lulu, who was in the back of the room near the door. Catching my line of sight, she made a comical crossed-eye face, covertly letting me know her thoughts on Ryan the Yawn. Biting my lip, I looked away to keep from laughing at her playful mockery of our boss.

And had my unwary gaze colliding with Thomas Sorensen.

There was no shyness, inhibition, or hesitation to the way he observed me. If his diverted body language and facial expression were any indication, he, too, had shut off Ryan's incessant sales pitch. He didn't know who I was a few hours ago, yet here he was watching me as though he knew me. Warmly. Intimately. It was disconcerting, to say the very least.

_Why?_ That was the question that popped into my head.

Because he worked with my dad once upon a time?

I released a small but polite smile in acknowledgment, not wanting to shun him since he was the big client of the moment, but I could feel my already stiffened shoulders tightening even more in discomfort.

Thomas Sorensen had the face and body a woman could happily spend months admiring. The light, reflective eyes that seemed to be perfectly content to only see you, the straight formed nose that steered your already salivating gaze to the flawlessly molded lips that were made to smile and slide over your own susceptible, melting ones, to the strong slants of his jaw that beckoned to be touched and soothed. If that face were on a billboard it would cause multiple traffic collisions from women doing double takes and craning their necks back for more of that yummy deliciousness.

Add the dark, smooth voice made to whisper sins against your ear while doing unspeakable, blood rushing things to your panting body and it was a full on devastating attack on the helpless female population.

And, I decided as I continued to wordlessly meet his bold focus and the corners of that delectable mouth unhurriedly lifted in a charming, ravaging half smile, he knew and enjoyed every bit of it.

Then, while he was still eating me up with his eyes, those lips moved to visibly form one distinguishable word.

_Beautiful_.

My eyes widened. Looking around quickly to see if anyone had noticed, I saw that Ryan was now engrossed in a heavy discussion with Cindy Wang and Rob Carnes with a word thrown in here and there by Cal. Lulu was still in the back of the room participating from a distance.

Before I could decide on a response, if any, the CEO of THS abruptly pushed off from the table and got to his feet. "Thank you, Mr. Berkshire," he announced as startled eyes swiveled his way and bodies scrambled to rise. "This was indeed productive time spent. I most enjoyed getting familiar with the team. I'm sure my colleagues and I will have a lot to assess. We'll be making a decision by the end of the week."

That soon?

"Of course." Ryan nodded. "I understand MHA is the last firm to present. I look forward to hearing from you."

With that, and with barely an acknowledging nod at me, he walked out of the room, leaving his VP's gabbling their goodbyes and scuttling after their CEO.

Moody son of a bitch. It reminded me of someone near and dear to me.

Ryan muttered a, "Good job, guys," and went the same way after them.

"Oh my stars." Lulu heaved out a loud breath and deflated all over a chair recently vacated, her arms dangling off the sides and her legs jutting out in front of her like she'd lost all muscular control. "Thomas Sorensen is insanely hot."

Accustomed to Lulu's weakness, Cal batted that declaration off with a hand. "And irritable. Shit, what the hell was that about – just storming out of here like his designer pants were on fire? Were we that bad?"

"I know, right?" Lulu frowned and shot a weary look my way. "Do you think we did okay?"

I shrugged and began cleaning up. "Hard to say. They seemed to like what they saw by the comments they made, but you never know. There's not much we can do now but wait and hope for the best."

"It's ridiculous how small the world is," observed Cal as he began gathering colorful handouts. "For him to know your father, I mean. And the fact that he helped Sorensen start his company? What are the odds of that?"

"That handy fact certainly can't hurt us," Lulu piped in. "He's got to be grateful. And now here's his daughter pitching to design one of his latest projects." She grinned and shot out of the chair, suddenly reenergized. "We're a shoe-in!"

I looked at her warily. "Umm... I don't know about that."

"Hey, do you think your father would put in a good word for us?" Cal asked eagerly. "You know, just a phone call or an email. Sort of like an endorsement," he added hesitantly when he saw my horrified expression.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I can't – won't – use my family to get a project. That's not something I would even consider." But I would make sure I'd ask my dad about Thomas Sorensen in hopes of figuring out his peculiar behavior. "We get this project by our own merit or it's not worth doing... just don't repeat that to Ryan."

*****

"What's the matter?" Jake frowned as I picked at my plate of Chilean sea bass on a bed of organic grilled asparagus. "Is the fish not to your liking?"

What was the matter? My career may very well be sinking into the deepest part of the abyss. Then I'd have to admit I was a complete failure to everyone, including my family, and have to move back to Frisco just so I wouldn't starve to death on the unconcerned streets of L.A.

Okay, so maybe that was a tad overly dramatic. This waiting for THS to make a decision could give one a hernia, and it'd only been a few hours since we presented. But since I didn't want to drag down the evening or Jake, I put on an easy smile for the sake of form. "No, it's great. See." To demonstrate, I pierced a piece and aimed it in my mouth. "Ummm."

We were in a quaint little restaurant in Marina de Rey with a breathtaking panoramic view of the darkened ocean. We were placed at a prime table, of course, being a Reed and having unlimited disposable income to toss around usually got Jake the best table in any place. It was past seven and the restaurant was cozily lite with candles and mood lighting, the muted chatter of the few patrons dining on a Thursday night far and in between.

Ricardo, the Reeds' driver, had picked me up for dinner right after I got home. I hadn't seen Jake since the morning at his place, but we didn't normally see each other on a daily basis anyway, so I was perplexed when he texted me earlier about tonight's plans. Now as I gazed at the candlelight flickering in his calm eyes, his hair mildly and sexily mussed as though he had a long day and had run his fingers through it a few times, his suit jacket and tie discarded, I pondered how I could go a day without this riveting connection.

"It's not like you to play with your food," he commented without much infliction as he sliced at his filet mignon. He held out the juicy slice of meat, his gaze on my mouth, and ordered softly, "Open."

I leaned over and did just that, allowing my lips to linger on his fork as he fed me. I might've had to fight off embarrassment at the affectionate display, at the instant heat that rushed into his eyes, if the place hadn't been so dim and there were more people. As it were it felt like we were the only two basking in each other's presence.

And the tasty beef was tender and succulent. How could I possibly turn that down?

"How was your day?" It was such a normal thing to ask that I actually paused after the words were out of my mouth.

One shoulder lifted, dropped. "Okay. Nothing special. Until about a half an hour ago."

A part of me basked in the light acknowledgment, knowing he was referring to when the maître d' led me to the table where he was already seated and waiting patiently. As soon as he saw me, he got up and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Such flattery, Reed. What are you up to?" Since another bite of meat was in front of my mouth again, I took it. Only this time I let my tongue dart out and flicked at it first before wrapping my lips around it, gazing up at him through my lashes as he slowly slithered out the fork. I had to remind myself to chew after I caught sight of the hot hunger that had nothing to do with food clouding his eyes.

He groaned. "What are you doing to me, Maddy?"

Batting my eyes, my features schooled into absolute innocence. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You keep that up and we're not going to able to finish this very nice meal." Sitting back, he sipped his wine and watched me steadily over the glass, his eyes like scalding lava as they flicked down to my mouth. "Such a naughty girl you are, Madison Volt. What do you suppose I should do with you?"

I smiled – and it wasn't a demure one. "Bend me over and have your wicked way with me?" By now I knew the position Jake preferred... slamming into me hard from behind.

"Was that an offer or a suggestion?"

"Both." The long white tablecloth concealed us enough that I decided to play with my often too serious companion. "For however long you like," I leaned over and murmured, sliding a palm over the hard thigh encased in black trousers closest to me. Muscles twitched and braced against my brash touch. "As deep as you can go." An enveloping hand shot down and seized mine in place just south of my goal, his body shuddering before he could control himself. "And then even deeper. Because it makes me come _so hard_ when you're so deep inside me, caressing me with each lazy stroke... _right there_."

The decadent words had the added bonus of turning myself on. I could almost feel him doing just that, his cock rubbing at that needy spot inside me until I was wound so tight there was no way I wouldn't shatter.

During the course of my little seduction he must have freed his other hand because my jaw was gruffly cupped and my lips were aggressively taken hostage. His silky tongue was conquering my mouth without hesitation, without obedience. My head fell back and he came with me, his dominating mouth hungrily feasting on me with a crushing craving I'd never experienced in my twenty-eight years. My entire being singed and was set ablaze from head to toe in an instant, desperate response, his clean, familiar scent shrouding me in erotic reminder. Combustible.

I wanted him. That very infuriating second.

A leveled, unsteady hand slapped on his sinewy torso for balance, for leverage, for sanity, and fisted against the maddening groan rumbling from the dark vicinity of his chest that was felt more than heard. Somewhere in my demented, hazy subconscious I was aware Jake was virtually slumping atop me while still on his seat as he vigorously, recklessly plundered my mouth as though we were ready to throw down right there in the restaurant.

Knowing I was going to blow any moment now, I finally managed to tear my mouth from his. "Jake." His name came out breathless, an impulsive sound that was more plea than reproach.

The gold eyes staring at me were dilated with turbulent, barely contained need, his cheeks rosy with arousal, having obviously forgotten where we were at the moment. He blinked once. Twice. Gradually he came back onto himself and slowly straightened. I chanced a peek around the establishment and felt blood rushed to my already heated face as I recognized a few scandalized ogles at our flagrantly audacious behavior.

"We need to go."

I nodded, marveling at how he could sound so normal when my muscles were still quavering. Jake communicated a look to the waiter a few tables away. The uniformed server inclined his head once and scampered away to exchange words with the attentive restaurant manager. Our plates were still mostly full and the wine hardly touched, but I was after something even more blisteringly appetizing than what was on the table.

Not until my hand was lifted did I become aware it was still clasped in Jake's and laying loosely on his thigh. Firm, tender lips pressed against my palm before rubbing a stubble cheek against my curled fingers.

"I'm going to need you to walk in front of me," he confessed in a soft voice. "That is, unless we really want to give the good people here something to talk about."

It took me a second to realize what he meant. I nodded again, not yet trusting my voice. With the waiter right behind his heels, the manager soon came by with his hands attentively clasped in front of him, practically bowing to Jake, and graciously told us the car was out front. Jake quickly scrawled his signature on a palm size tablet the waiter presented and I rose from the table. Jake inclined his head once at the manager as he thanked us. In truth, we should be the one thanking him for not throwing us out, and more, for not even hinting that he'd witnessed our outrageous conduct, though by the nervous but peculiar glimpses he was trying so hard to subdue, I was certain he had.

As soon as Jake got to his feet he stepped behind me and took my hand, letting the link hang between us. I knew he was using that as a general barrier to conceal his arousal from curious, intrusive eyes. Minus a few disapproving glances, we made it through the hushed restaurant without incident and found Ricardo waiting by the car. We cleared the smoked glass entry held ajar by a man in a black valet vest.

The rear passenger door was drawn wide as Ricardo greeted us. "Where to, Mr. Reed?"

"Just drive." He practically barked the words as he ushered me inside the back of the vehicle, letting the rear door close behind him and immediately bringing up the privacy partition that I'd left lowered earlier so I could chat with Ricardo.

Without having to be told I climbed onto the seat and got into position like a good little sex-friend, though a more than willing one, my knees perched near the edge, tossing my skirt up and yanking at the delicate white panties until they were trapped by my opened thighs. I braced my hands on the back of the leather seat and boldly presented myself for him. I looked over my shoulder and saw that he was already lowering his zipper, wincing when he maneuvered it over the massive bulge, and shoving down his boxer shorts without breaking stride and got into place behind me.

"How do you want it?" His voice was low, urgent, as though he was ready to explode before he even got around to touching me. Large palms smoothed up the back of my thighs to cup my ass, the fingers spreading the flesh apart for maximum access. Then he was testing the greedy flesh, using his long middle finger to glide into the dampness and tease at my sopping tissues that immediately clinched around him until he was knuckle deep.

I looked him right in the eyes. "Just give it to me."

His eyes blazed. On a groan, he pulled the shameless cheeks wide with his thumbs and plowed into me. The keen that came out of me was so heartfelt it was heard around the world. I needed him so bad that after that the only sounds I could form were _uh_ and _yes_ and any combination of that along with _Jake_. Almost instantly I was shaking, feverishly begging for the mind numbing pleasure of release. I was so wet I felt it down the inside of my thighs. My body wanted to swallow him whole and never let it go, but he kept pulling it away and slamming it back into me, massaging me just so from the inside out, torturing me with sharp, pummeling thrills.

My head dipped and grounded into the soft leather as it made contact with the back of the seat, searching for purchase in a world of overpowering raw sensations. Sweat coated my heated skin like we were in a sauna, Jake's fingers molding my hips as they skidded from his own perspiration before switching gear and finally anchoring me in place with a grip on my shoulder. He was tuning my body with each sensuous slither, every pressurized touch, stroking my pulsing clit until my entire being centered on that one throbbing zone and nothing else. Mouth parted soundlessly, coiled muscles quaking in irrepressible bliss-pain, I threw my head back and cried out his name in untamed abandon.

Before I could recover from the squeezing ecstasy he was pulling out of me and flipping me onto my back lengthwise on the long seat. "I'm not done with you," he growled and shoved the lingering panties off my legs before perching one of my legs on the back were my head had been a moment ago, the other foot with its ankle strapped four-inch heel solid on the floor of the vehicle.

Then he was plunging into me again.

" _Jake_." It was a curse. It was a prayer.

It was fucking good.

Still in his shirt, his hands planted on either side of my head, he lowered his head and made a show of watching our glistening flesh pound it out. Yearning to feel him beyond slamming flesh, I snuck my hands under his shirt and ran them up his clammy back, loving each ripple and convulsion of taut muscles as he tirelessly drove that commanding body into mine. Lifting my hips, I met him thrust for sweet thrust. He hissed out a breath when insistent fingernails dug and clawed at him. Sweat dripped from his temples to the abused leather as my own muscles clinched once again and I whimpered with helpless spasms so strong I forgot to breathe. Delightfully exploited tissues suck and clung to him as my arms latched onto him for final lucidity before I cried out in release of all inhibitions and rationality.

Back rigid with unleashed tension, Jake buried his head at the side of my neck and finally, silently let go.

*****

I had no idea where Ricardo was taking us, but I knew we'd been going on a consistent speed for a while, which meant we were likely on a freeway. Though which one, I couldn't begin to guess. The Reeds' driver wasn't dumb. The last time I felt the car stopped at a light Jake was frantically hurtling into me, sending the entire vehicle to quaking worthy of a 9.5 on the Richter Scale on the busy streets of the city, so Ricardo probably decided to do the smart thing and hopped on the freeway where he could fly through at seventy miles an hour.

As my fingertips lazily traced indiscernible patterns on Jake's cooling back and my legs came together to wrap around his clothed calves, I lazily wondered if he'd fallen asleep on top of me. He was still inside me and had made no move to extricate himself. As a matter of fact, he'd made no move at all since he raucously unloaded himself in me ten minutes ago. His dead weight was crushing me into the giving leather, but I didn't mind.

_Wow_ was all I could come up with about the last hour. Jake was good at this. I never thought he'd have such talent. The man definitely knew how to move for optimal pleasure. He must've had a lot of practice.

The euphoric, dream-like haze that had enraptured me for a spell evaporated at that intrusive thought and I mentally shook myself for even thinking it. So what if I'd only had four lovers, including Jake, in my life and he evidently had a hell of a lot more than that? What Jake did before was none of my business and had no impact on us here and now. My madness was for me to deal with and shouldn't affect what we had – whatever that was.

Josh had found my jealousies endearing. It made him feel special, he confessed, like I really cared. I hated it, hated every time a woman got too friendly with him, brushed up against him one too many times at parties. I despised feeling like I had to compete for his attention when we were out and about, giving other women dirty looks for shamelessly ogling him in front of me. And he never discouraged them, not that I thought he was doing anything other than returning their suggestive smiles.

Why I wanted to marry him, I couldn't quite recall at the moment. Any man that found exploiting my madness entertaining should have no place in my life.

"Don't stop." A warm nose rubbed and nuzzled against my neck. "Your hands. They felt good."

I hadn't realized my fingers had stilled. "Oh." I would had resumed their idle diversion except he pushed himself to his elbows. "What?" I asked when he said nothing and just stared down at me with that calm, just-fucked-you-to-next-week expression.

"You spaced out." Long, languid fingers tunneled in my hair. "What were you thinking about?"

"You." I shrugged. "Josh. Me. In that order." I never could lie to him, so why try?

His back went rigid. If my palms didn't happen to be there, I wouldn't had known from his placid face that his back literally just went up.

"And?"

"And nothing." My hands smoothed over the unyielding strength once before lifting my head up and giving him a gentle kiss, hoping to sooth that rising sulk I knew was coming. "Just random thoughts. Nothing important."

"If it wasn't important, why think about him?"

Of course he'd hone in on that one name and attack. "It wasn't intentional. I was just reminded of him."

His eyes narrowed. "And having me inside you reminded you of him?"

"No, Jake, don't be ridiculous. They were just chance thoughts. It was no big deal."

The scowl that transformed his features was formidable. "Then why don't you share those chance thoughts if they were _nothing important?_ "

Groaning in frustration, I freed my hands from under his shirt and made to sit up. I might had succeeded if he had given at least an inch. I could feel my temper rousing. "Seriously, Jake? You really want to go there?"

The hand that was trying to nudge his bullying shoulder aside was seized. "Oh, we've long passed _there_ , sweet. If you're going to bring up an ex-boyfriend after just having sex with me, I want to know what exactly it was that brought him to your mind."

"I didn't bring him up. You asked me what I was thinking. And as you had so gleefully pointed out in the past, I can't lie to you." I tried to wrench my hand away to no avail. My own simmering anger had me regretting my next words almost as soon as they were out. "All right, then, we'll have it your way. Let's go there. How many women have you fucked?"

If I thought he was going to clam up or get defensive, I was proven wrong. "I don't keep a diary, Maddy, nor do I have notches on my bedpost. So if you want an exact figure, you're asking for too much."

Which meant there were too many to keep track. Needing a moment, I glanced away from him, hating the familiar, involuntary burning that was a prelude to that old dreaded sensation of coming up second best – or third, or fourth, or whatever the count was - to someone that really mattered.

"Maddy..."

I shook my head, forcing down the hard lump in my throat before I returned my gaze to meet his concern. There was no denying the hurt, the uncertainties that were spreading like paralyzing poison within me, but I'd die before I let him see them. "It doesn't matter. Just like Josh doesn't matter. They were the past." My voice was wooden to my own ears, but at least I got the words out. "We'll still fuck to our hearts' content. That's the current goal."

Reduce things to the elemental and life would be far simpler.

At least he didn't mention Josh again.
SIXTEEN

We ended up back at my place after Ricardo drove us up and down I-105 aimlessly for almost two hours. It was an effort to climb out of the funk I'd inadvertently found myself after our post coital discussion. For the most part Jake was subdued, not saying much but merely set out to be available by quietly keeping an arm around me the rest of the ride home. I didn't blame him for not wanting to be sucked in whenever I was in this mood. Hell, I didn't want to be nearby when it surfaced.

Letting the front door shut behind him, Jake asked, "Are you hungry? You didn't have much to eat tonight."

I shook my head but didn't pause on my way to my bedroom. "No, but you're welcomed to whatever's in the kitchen."

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I responded from the hallway and flicked the lock for my bedroom once I made it in and went straight into the adjoining bathroom to do the same. It wasn't my intention to block Jake out, but I just needed sometime to myself. Alone.

Setting my handbag on the vanity, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My long brown hair was a tangled mess, but that was expected considering what I was doing. There was a vacant hollowness to my gaze as my eyes clouded at what I saw. Was I the only one to ever notice that, or were people just too polite to comment? Reflexively Thomas Sorensen's earlier remark came back to me.

_Beautiful_.

Was I? I never really gave it too much thought. Above average perhaps, but beautiful was a stretch. He wasn't the first person to tell me that, and it still surprised me each time I heard it. Josh used to tell me every day, but then again, it still didn't keep him from being distracted by others. My mom too, before she died _. My beautiful girl_ , she told me in the hospital room, her face pale and gouged from all the chemo, from battle after endless battle for the life she eventually lost, not a hair left on her as she breathlessly murmured her final words, _never forget how special you are_.

If I was so special, then why did she leave me?

She never got to meet Jake. I wondered what she would have said about him.

My fingers raked through my hair and clenched, dropping my pounding head into them until my elbows alighted on the counter and short nails dug painfully into scalp. As a breath hitched in my throat, I squeezed my lids shut and willed the demons away.

_Get a grip, Madison_.

I couldn't say why, but a lone tear streaked down my cheek and plopped soundlessly onto marble. I didn't know how long I was in there, hiding from the world in a bathroom intricately designed for both function and momentary escape. Pampering my sour mood. I hated myself at these moments. Hated feeling like I didn't know who I was.

"Maddy? Are you all right?" The irate clatter of the bedroom door rattling penetrated through walls. "Why is this door locked?"

"Go away, Jake." It was a mumble, said more to myself and no more audible than the sound of a breeze brushing by and certainly couldn't be heard past two rooms. Lifting my head, my gaze landed on my red handbag. Without deliberation I turned through it until I found my smartphone and began going through the lengthy list of contacts. Every time I upgraded my mobile the information was ported from the old to the new, and as a result I ended up having scrolls upon scrolls of people in the directory, some of whom I couldn't even recall meeting. My finger froze when it located the one I was searching for, staring at the name that used to mean more than my own.

Josh Fieldergast.

A light tap brought the contact information up along with a smiling, memorable headshot.

What was the likelihood of him keeping the same number after all these months?

I just needed to know why.

Why did he choose a job over me? What did I do that he could leave me so callously?

I swallowed back the uncertainty threatening to take over my conscience.

Pandora's Box.

"Maddy!"

This time the booming voice was on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Tell me you're okay or I'm calling the paramedics."

He would. Jake could be unreasonably fearful like that at times. "Just a minute," I called in a voice I didn't recognize as my own and powered off the mobile, burying it deep in my handbag. Ignoring the slight trembling of the hand that turned the door lever, I slipped past a watchful Jake with a casual, relatively normal _hey_ before making a beeline for the walk-in closet. The handbag was plopped in its cubby just as Jake followed me in.

"Everything okay?"

Not able to meet his alert gaze, I lowered into the lounge chair and began unbuckling the ankle straps of my shoes. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You were in there a while."

"What, can a woman use the restroom without getting the third degree?"

"Why did you lock the bedroom?"

"I wanted privacy."

"Both doors?" he asked incredulously, skeptically. "You've been acting odd half the night. What's really going on, Maddy? You got something to say, then say it. I prefer it to this sneaky secrecy."

I shocked us both by hurling a shoe against the dresser. "Just because I'm fucking you doesn't mean I have to ask you for permission when I have to go to the bathroom, Jake!" It might had been the baffling sense of guilt, though I'd done nothing wrong, that had me on the defensive. "I'm a big girl. I can go potty perfectly well by myself, thank you very much. You don't like it? No one's begging you to stay."

With that I stormed passed him and out of the closet, out of the bedroom. Vexed, jumbled, and not sure where to go, I ended up in the kitchen because... well, wasn't that where all problems were solved on television?

"Least of all you, isn't that right, Maddy?" Jake was rigid again, voice cold, his back so stiff he appeared even taller than usual as he stood like a pissed off statue by the refrigerator where I was sightlessly perusing the contents. "God forbid you should need me or anyone else. Civilizations would crumble if Madison Volt should let her guard down for one second and let me in."

"Fuck you, Jake." The violent thud of the refrigerator door precluded my next declaration. "You of all people should point fingers. Look in the mirror before you judge me." Because I really couldn't be in the same room with him right now, I strode out of the kitchen and somehow found myself in the shadowed family room.

And of course he wouldn't leave me alone. "This isn't about me, so don't turn it into something it's not."

God! He was suffocating me. I couldn't breathe without him standing guard. I didn't even know why I was picking a fight with him. All I wanted was to be left alone for a while. "What's it about then? Isn't this about what you want? I don't even know why we're fighting over this." Sick of this conversation, sick of him, I swiveled right back around in my search for a peaceful spot.

"You're lying, Maddy." His gaze was unflinching, piercing. "What are you hiding?"

At that I whirled on him. "That's bullshit, Jake. I tell you everything!" My arms flew up as if taking on the whole world. " _Everything_! There isn't a thing you don't know about me."

"Really, Maddy?" He took an imposing step closer until I had to tilt my head back to gauge his intent. "Then look me in the eyes and tell me you're not hiding anything."

I opened my mouth to do just that.

Nothing came out. Not even a squeak.

"That's what I thought," he accused when I hesitated. "You can't, can you?" When another beat of silence in which nothing I wished anxiously to say came out, he cursed and turned his back on me. "I'm out of here."

In less than a minute the vicious slam of the front door rocked the very foundation.

But not before I saw the dismay, the disappointment, and most of all, the hurt that fleeted across his face before he bolted.

And I was alone in the gloomy, still house.

It was what I wanted, wasn't it?

*****

The Skylight Spa project team was on pins and needles as Friday rolled around and we waited with fingers crossed for the final word from THS. We'd be notified by the end of the week, Thomas Sorensen had said, but that could be today or, for some people, even Monday. As for me, I picked up the phone a dozen times today only to return it, battling to call Jake one minute and cursing him the next. I hated when we fought. It was as though the world was tilted on a precarious axis and everything was not as it should be.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon I learned that Jake was out of town on an emergency with R Hotel in New York. Lulu, disgruntled from chewing on her nails and nervously pacing back and forth in the office all day, came rushing to my desk and told me it was all over the news.

A bomb threat.

My heart galloped furiously as I opened the link to the report she emailed me. The pretty anchorwoman announced that after evacuating the hotel and all the nearby establishments, authorities deciphered that the suspicious package abandoned in the basement of the hotel was NOT a bomb, although officials refused to disclose the exact nature of the content. Footages of the NYPD swat team and bomb squad in full battle gear surrounding the posh hotel and clearing out patrons and curious onlookers off the streets were from this morning.

No one was injured.

By the time I was informed of the news it was pretty much over. Officials were investigating the matter, but the threat had been eliminated. She went on to say that representatives of the hotel, including Chief Operating Officer Jake Reed and Executive Vice President Brandon Reed, were onsite to assist the authorities with the investigation.

Closing the window, I stared blankly at the computer screen as the events percolated through my head. I had this insane urge to fly to New York to be with Jake, if only to offer moral support. Since I was most likely the last person he wanted to see, that would only burden him on this trying day even more, but I needed him to know he was in my thoughts, today of all days, and that I would be there for him if he needed me, so I decided to send him a text. That way he could read it when he had the time. I certainly wouldn't want to interrupt him while he was trying to handle the chaotic aftermath of calming employees, placating customers, dealing with the PR nightmare, and at the same time working with the police to get to the bottom of it.

I spent the remainder of the day finishing up a project for a medical office in Pasadena boasting the latest technology while conveying a sense of tranquility that included running water fountains on glass tiles in lieu of walls, a small but prominent atrium, and even an indoor rock garden path in the waiting room. By the time I left the office at seven I was emotionally deflated and still hadn't heard back from Jake.

Between waiting on word about Skylight Spa, my ugly argument with Jake last night, and what was going on in New York, I had lost all appetite. Both Will and Jonathan had called about what was happening in New York, thinking to direct the inquiries to me rather than Jake himself, mirroring my earlier apprehension about bothering him at this time. Unfortunately, I had nothing enlightening to share other than what everyone else saw on the news, so I was no help.

"We want you to stay the week," Will had disclosed on the phone when the topic of Thanksgiving came up. "You haven't been home since last Christmas, and Lily and dad miss you. The kids miss you," he revealed, referring to my niece and nephew. "Olivia is so excited she's already booked a girls' spa day."

That made me smile. "Your wife knows the best places for pampering." I sighed, knowing he had a point. "I'm sure the firm can do without me for a few days."

"Excellent. Fly up with Jonathan and Chelsea. They're chartering a plane so they don't have to mess with other holiday travelers. I'll have Carly amend your itinerary and email it to you."

I went home, had a protein drink just so I'd have something in my stomach, took a shower, and went to bed early.

And had my eyes flying open in the pitch-black night. My eyes felt gritty, my mind slow and groggy from being roused awake mid-dream. I laid on my side, motionless, the steady ticking of the clock from down the hall the only sound in the stagnant air, and waited. Something had awakened me at three twenty-nine in the morning, I noted with a peek at the bedside clock, but no obvious intrusion jumped out at me as I silently scanned the long shadows in my room. Wasn't it Ray Bradbury who wrote about particularly wicked things happening in the three o'clock hour, that people generally found their slumber strangely disturbed for no apparent reason only to find themselves gazing at the number three in the eerie shade of the night?

The darkest hour before light.

Okay, I was creeping myself out.

Go back to sleep, Maddy.

Diligently I closed my eyes, made an effort to relax my muscles, my breathing. I desperately needed rest. I couldn't go on like this. If I wasn't making love with Jake, I was fighting with him. Then there was the Skylight Spa project that mentally and utterly drained me.

I must had nodded off because suddenly I was jerked awake by a piercing screech. It took a few confused blinks for my battered ears to connect with my groggy brain.

The smoke detector.

Not the one in the bedroom. Beyond the hallway. Why did those things always malfunction in the middle of the night? Tossing the covers aside, I ushered to the source of the offense.

I smelled it as soon as I cleared the bedroom. My sluggish feet took on a life of their own as they rounded the corner and froze for a stunned heartbeat.

The hill on fire.

My heart hurtled against my chest as sweat broke out like a wet blanket over my skin. Snarling flames bursting in my backyard. Plants, furniture, anything in its path set ablaze in a race for destruction. Within seconds black smoke singed my eyes and lungs. Roaring wall of fire blinded me. Frantically slapping a hand against the wall, I felt my way down, registering in the back of my racing, panicking mind I was in the living room. I needed to get out fast. Any minute the whole house would be in flames.

A slashing cough had me doubling over to cut off my heavy breaths, palms and knees slapping the hardwood. The air was marginally clearer down here, but not by much. Crawling, dragging, I painfully inch my way through a haze of dust and murk by instinct and feel alone. The vicious roar was getting closer.

A deafening, abrupt blast. World exploding in angry shards.

A scream tore out of my throat. Splinters of heavy glass erupted as the wall of rear windows popped and shattered in a fiery kaleidoscope. I cried out and instinctively ducked and threw my arms over the back of my neck and head. There was no time to even scream as slivers mercilessly rained down and sliced exposed flesh. My body shook so hard I was surprised my bones weren't shattering with the destruction. Dazed and sobbing, crazed blood roaring in my ears, I pulled and crept on harsh debris. Jagged edges sliced into my open palms, viciously slashed at the knees. The air blistered my vulnerable lungs, eyes stinging as tears rivered down my cheeks.

I thought I heard sirens, but that might had been my desperate imagination.

Familiar, beloved faces flashed through my terrified mind. My dad. Will and his family. Jonathan, Chelsea, Charlotte.

Jake.

He was going to be so pissed when he found out I was dead.

It was struggle or succumb to a submissive, painful death. And I was so not going to die in filthy, smoke-fragrant nightclothes. Every ounce of air pumping my battered lungs was an excruciating exertion, but my sole focus was on survival, not discomfort, so I kept moving, inch by burning inch.

Abused arms wobbling dangerously. Bloody fingers brushing the edges of textile. A rug.

Thank God!

My hand blindly reached up. Scooting over wood. Higher. Metal. It was warm but not scorching my torn skin. With what felt like all my strength, I turned and pulled.

Unprotected feet crunched broken structure fragments. Sharp jabs of pain stabbed into my limbs as I hurled through my front door. Searing organs lighting a path up over hacking coughs.

Heated wind whipped at my hair and plastered clothing against my skin. Blessed dampened earth squished under my bloody feet. The uninhabited hill cresting the rear of my home was alight with shooting flames. Frantic breaths pummel out of me as I raced and screamed for my life. The piercing cry echoing as though from a wounded animal. Enervated muscles burned as I half ran, half clawed my way through the street.

I ran and shouted for who knew how long.

The sweet wail of sirens roused the predawn hours as my abused body finally collapsed onto pavement.

Shouts. Running feet. Male voices. Competent, purposeful hands probing, firing questions at me.

Where are you hurt?

I had to pick one spot?

Is there anyone else in the house?

The question seemed distant, from far away.

Jake? Was he spending the night?

No. Jake was in New York.

"No," I responded. It came out harsh and weak.

*****

"—suffered from multiple lacerations and contusions. Keep an eye for signs of infections. She was lucky none of the shards caused serious damage. She should be fine after a few weeks."

"Can we take her home?" The sound was grave, worried, not emotions I normally associated with that voice.

The man followed the voice. Jonathan came into the exam room with Chelsea and the doctor that had treated me a couple of hours ago, Dr. Panay, the first two in haphazardly don clothes that looked like they grabbed the first thing their harried hands landed on, hair sticking out in unusual places, their faces haggard and lined with apprehension.

"Hey." It was a croak.

Jonathan's face contorted comically as his gaze swept over me. Chelsea's reaction was even more notable. A hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes instantly welled.

Did I look that bad?

"As you can see," the doctor went on when no one said anything, "the majority of her wounds are on the right side of her body. Her hands, knees, and legs bore the brunt of it, but they'll heal. Smoke inhalation was not severe. She's a very lucky woman. The staff will discharge her soon. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and stay off her feet. Nothing strenuous for ten days. An over the counter antiseptic can be used on the cuts, but if you notice any symptoms of infection – fever, discharge, inflammation – bring her in right away."

While Dr. Panay spoke to Jonathan, Chelsea came over and gave me a small, tentative hug as though she was afraid I'd break. "Oh, honey. Are you all right?"

I tried a reassuring smile. "Well, I could use a hairbrush. And maybe some lip gloss." Instead of laughing, my little attempt at humor had the opposite effect. Her lips trembled and a tear shot straight down her cheek to her chin. "I'm fine," I rushed out in a voice that sounded nothing like me. "Hurting a bit, but overall functional." Actually, talking seemed to aggravate my head even more, and my throat felt like it was cut out and laid out in the middle of the desert, but I wasn't going to tell her that and make her fret. "Where's Charlotte?"

Chelsea sniffed delicately. "Sleeping in the waiting room. They wouldn't allow her in here, so Jon gave an off-duty nurse a hundred bucks to watch her."

"Chels, that's really not necessary. I'm fine."

"Come on, brat." Though I was used to Jonathan's sarcasm, this time it lacked heat, which was a definite hint to me how bad of a shape I was in. "The doctor said we can take you home. Dad and Lily are on their way down as we speak."

" _What?_ " I couldn't manage the scorn I was reaching for when my throat was burning angrily, which irritated me more than the cuts. "You called them?"

He looked annoyed. And exhausted. And shit-in-his-pants worried and outside of his elements. "Excuse me, but when I get a call at the crack of dawn from the hospital telling me my baby sister's been brought in, I'm going to call family. You can bitch and whine all you want in the car. Now let's go."

_Well, that's sympathy for you_.

Glowering at my brother, I gingerly scooted down the side of the exam table just as two sets of arms came around me. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm in a hospital gown. And the clothes I was wearing were not intended for daytime and are pretty much ready for landfill, so make yourself useful and hunt down something I can wear."

It took some time, but Jonathan came back with some faded pink loose cotton scrubs and what looked to be cheap, salon-style flip-flops. An orderly came by with a wheelchair, reciting hospital policy that all patients were discharged in that manner. I rolled my eyes but got on, silently grateful I didn't have to tread through the hospital on uncertain legs and hideous shoes.

God, I was drained. Fortunately, the ride to Malibu was uneventful. It was past six o'clock, so we just beat the rush hour traffic. I glanced over at Charlotte in her car seat next to me, snoring the way her father often did, and closed my eyes and let my head rest back, the painkillers the nurse gave me having a blissfully dulling effect on the stings and soreness.

When I came to it was to the soft nudges of cautious hands. Charlotte was no longer in the car, and the front door to my brother's home was left open. Then both Jonathan and Chelsea were leading me in, my feet feeling every digging grit and loose debris on the ground through the thin rubber of the flip-flops, exacerbating the punctures, but since I didn't want my family to worry, I kept it to myself. I reeked of terror, sweat, and wildfire. Chelsea fixed the most appealing bubble bath I'd ever set my tired eyes on and carefully helped me undress. This amazing woman even stayed close as I soaked, washing my wild weed infested hair when I didn't have any energy left, no doubt fearing I'd pass out in the tub and drown.

I couldn't put in the effort to look at my reflection, fearing what I'd find. Nurse Chelsea took the time to slather disinfectant on the open wounds and bandaged them up.

My brother was a lucky man.
**SEVENTEEN**

I crashed, dead to the world, for twelve hours. As I opened my eyes, every pinch, every jab, and all the brutal slices were felt on my body. A thousand brutal paper cuts stinging like a motherfucker... not to mention the throbbing swells of angry bruises dotted like red and blue daisies throughout my skin.

And my head. Holy shit, it hurt.

There was a glass of water and two pills on the table next to the bed, and I made good use of them, hoping for a miracle.

And then it happened. My worst nightmare.

I had to pee.

Groaning, I tried to sit up and ended up whimpering like an injured puppy and staring at my bandaged hands like I'd never seen them. I knew I had crawled all over the place on them, but I hadn't really felt what must have been bleeding, torn flesh – not even while I was dragging on the unforgiving, rough pavement.

"Why are you up?"

Not until then did I realize I wasn't alone. My heart shot to my throat and my startled gaze dashed to the looming figure in the dim room, belatedly recognizing the deep murmur. I answered the question with one of my own. "What are you doing here?"

The figure pushed off from the chair and sat at the edge of the bed, not touching me, but I could feel his eyes on me like a comforting caress. "Your brother called me."

"He shouldn't have done that." Even in the dark, I looked away. "I wish he'd stop calling people. I'm fine."

"Give the man a break, Maddy," he chided gently. "He's worried about you. We're all worried about you."

Biting back a retort, I stared at a muddled spot on the covers. "How are things in New York?"

"Under control." His voice was neutral, devoid of emotion. "Brandon is taking care of it."

And he'd still be there if it weren't for me. "I'm fine," I said again. "You don't have to worry about me.

He didn't respond right away. As though afraid to touch me anywhere else, he lifted the hair resting above my breast and placed it behind my shoulder. "Do you need anything? Are you in pain?"

Disregarding the latter question, I answered, "As a matter of fact, yes. I have to use the bathroom."

When he rose, I expected it was to give me some privacy, but he tossed the duvet aside and stooped over me instead. "Tell me if I'm hurting you," he whispered and gently scooped me up.

Halfway presentable in a cheery yellow sleepshirt courtesy of Chelsea, my knees bounded with what looked like oversized Band-Aids, my feet dangling down the curl of Jake's arms wrapped with white dressing that mimicked my hands, I was glad he hadn't bothered with the lights as he carried me to the adjoining bath.

A woman could get used to this.

I winced as Jake elbowed the switch and mellow, muted light bounced out of the wall sconces next to the vanity mirror. With as much care as if he were holding a nuclear device, Jake delicately set me on my feet in front of the commode. Strangely, the cold hard tile wasn't too pitiless to my injured feet, but I wasn't dumb enough to walk around as though it was fresh spring pasture.

"Do you need help?"

Yeah right. I'd rather wear a diaper than let him help me urinate. "I'm good, thanks." Besides, what was he going to do? Play the flute until it trickled out of me?

But he wasn't listening. He was visually examining my face, his gaze hardening as it took a tour from my temple to my jaw. I could almost hear him grinding his teeth in sync with the crash of waves outside.

I still didn't know the extent the damage evident to anyone that looked at me, but based on the reactions of those who had, I'd venture to guess the prognosis wasn't good. "That bad, huh?"

The bump in his throat bobbed before he spoke. "Considering what could've happened, it's not bad at all." A light, not too steady hand came up, tentatively soft, to cup the side of my neck, his fingers nudging aside tangled hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Feeling the emotional lump in my own throat, I swallowed it back. "There wasn't anything you could've done even if you had been. I made it out by myself. I'm rather proud of that fact." Hoping to change the mood, I tried to give him a tawdry grin and ended up grimacing at the pull and sting of tight skin on my cheek. Nudging his chest, I tipped my head in the general direction of the door. "Give me a minute, will you? I've got to take care of business."

Apparently deciding I could handle taking a leak by myself after considering it for a beat, he left me alone, promising as he closed the door, "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Spent air deflated out of me as the latch caught its mate. I really could use more painkillers but knew it probably wasn't a good idea. For one thing, Jake would be all over that like a mother hen. Not for the first time that night I wished Jonathan had kept his big mouth shut instead of calling everyone that ever knew me with the update, least of all Jake, I mused as I scrunched up the hem of the long shirt that reached nearly to my knees. Seriously, was that really necessary?

Since I wasn't wearing any panties, having refused to put on someone else's – clean or not – I didn't have much to maneuver by way of getting things done. Knowing Jake would likely barge in without much warning if I took even a second too long by his - sometimes irrational - estimation, I made sure I didn't linger around. It was too bad that I happened to glance in the mirror mounted above the sink as I washed up, hardly realizing the wrappings were now soaked. My mouth parted as I took in the vibrant purple and blue welt the size of a tangerine on my right jaw near my chin. A menacing but shallow looking gash slashed my temple from just outside of my right eye to half an inch into the side of my face. Numerous nicks and small bruises dotted mostly on the right side of my face, making me look like Frankenstein on a bad day.

_Well hell_.

I felt the tears start at the top of my throat and ruthlessly, single-mindedly shoved them back. It was a miracle no stitches were needed on my face, I considered as I stare at my once pale, decently flawless skin. What was on it now would heal, given enough time. It was a mantra I kept mentally repeating as I stare at myself. Splashing water on it would probably sting, so I settled for just brushing my teeth with the new hygiene kit left by Chelsea – a challenging feat with bandaged palms - and made it my mission not to pay attention to the distressing reflection in front of me. Combing out the wild tangles in my hair with the use of just a thumb and fingers as an instrument was a pain in the ass, but I managed to set it to rights as much as possible without divine assistance.

In place of pondering my face I looked down at the sodden dressing on my hands. They would need to be changed. How would one go about doing that with both hands incapacitated?

"Jake?" No sooner was his name out of my mouth that I found him behind me, staring down over my head to the ruined linen in the same manner I was. "Would you help me get these off? I got them wet."

Hefting me up, he gently set me on top of the vanity and made quick work of changing the dressing with the first aid supplies left on the counter by Chelsea after my bath. Colorful, rated R phrases bounced in the bathroom when Jake discovered the short suture at the side of my hand. Pretending I was deaf, I watched him gently apply antibiotic gel onto it with utmost attention despite the horrid things that were exiting his cultured mouth. He made quick work of swathing them once again, making me wonder if this wasn't the first time he played nurse, before softly brushing his lips against each fingertip and setting my newly bound hands on my lap.

Amused, I observed mildly, "You've done this before."

He shrugged. "There were a few brawls in school. Rather than go to the health office, I just took care of what was necessary myself.

Like with so many parts of his life he rarely brought up, Jake had spent his school age years in arguably the country's best boarding school in Massachusetts. Stuck with hundreds of other boys every day and night for years, I could only imagine the kinds of mischief he got into. "Did you like it? The school?"

"Do any kids like school?" he countered broadly. "You're all set, sweet. It's time for you to go back to bed."

Just like that, the subject was closed. I should be used to it by now. I lifted my fists, let them drop. "Thanks for doing this. I didn't know how I was going to man—"

My admission was cut off abruptly when his forehead met mine. Without hesitation my legs opened and he stepped between them, and then his hands were on my arms, urgently sweeping up my shoulders, stroking my back as though reassuring himself I was indeed alive and solid.

" _Maddy_." His voice was low, pained, an excruciating confession being dragged out of him. "When your brother called... I didn't know what to think. He said there was a fire." It staggered me to find that when his fingers came up to the sides of my jaw, hardly a whisper of a touch, that big, bad Jake was visibly trembling. "And you were hurt. And for a second I thought the worst. I thought you were—"

"Hey." It was my turn to interject. It was a scarce chance when Jake allowed his vulnerabilities to show, but his line of thought wasn't worth reciting. "It's over. Other than a little banged up, I'm fine." I laid a comforting hand, bandage and all, against his stubble cheek. "All this will mend, honest. I'll be as good as new in a few weeks." I shook my head, amazed at the whole thing. "And here I was worried about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Wondering if you were okay. If you were in danger. The bomb threat," I clarified at his obvious puzzlement.

"A hoax, a nuisance. Nothing more." His arms came around me, holding me close, as he brushed his lips, baby soft, on mine. "Don't ever scare me like that again," he ordered gruffly in between kisses. "You hear me?"

Sighing, I brought my arms up to his neck. "Yes, Jake." I returned his kisses, adding a bit more flavor into it and gasped in surprise when he hoisted me up against his chest and started walking back to the room, flicking off the lights on his way out. I wrapped my legs around his waist, raining kisses along his bristly jaw and droning over this new scratchy sensation. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"Not sure. Thursday?" He gingerly set me down on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows as he came down with me but leaving a good foot between us so as not to put undue pressure on me. "Why? You don't like it?"

Rubbing my fingers this way and that over his cheek, I took my time deliberating over his question, knowing we both needed to lighten the dreary mood. "Hmm. I'm not sure I like being prickled. For the sake of fairness, let's do a test. I'll stop shaving my legs and you tell me how you like it. If you're fine with it, then I won't say a word against the irritating whiskers."

"'Irritating whiskers,'" he repeated. "I see. And what about here?" His hand gently cupped me between the legs, the warmth seeping through the shirt. "Will you stop shaving that as well?"

I gasped in mocked affront. "I'll have you know that's waxed. Brazilian, thank you very much."

"You get _Heaven_ waxed in Brazil?" He looked positively appalled. "Why can't you do it here? And when were you in South America?"

The laugh bubbled out of me at the true dismay on his face – not to mention the nickname he just came up with for the part in question - his dark brows puckering over what he thought was plainly an atrocious idea. "No, silly. It's called a Brazilian wax. That's when they... well, you know." Heat flamed my face as I battled a sudden bout of shyness. I didn't know why since he'd seen it up close and personal. "Leave most of it bare."

"Really?" Gaze slithering down, he began pulling on the sleepshirt, exposing smooth, unmarred skin to my waist. "I'll need to inspect it, seeing as I'm not familiar with the concept. You understand, of course."

My lips twitched. "Of course."

Sidling down my body, he placed gentle kisses on the side of each wrapped knee. Then he was pushing my thighs apart and planting himself right at home base, making hawing noises and the occasional _aha_ as he tilted his head first one way and then the other as though in serious contemplation. My face flamed, my body anxiously squirming under his intense scrutiny, but I let him have his fun. It wasn't every day Jake was in a playful spirit, and I knew he needed this teasing to make us both better, so I laid there with my legs spread wide while he examined my most private part. Besides, I knew this was his way of distracting me from my injuries and what I'd seen in the bathroom mirror.

Thank God it was dark or I'd want a condom sample after this pelvic exam.

"Hmm. You're right. It's bare." he declared rather huskily after a long while – for so long I could have sworn the hair grew back. "And so enticing." An open mouth kiss landed on the top of my mound just before his head dropped in defeat to my stomach. "You need rest," he seemed to remind himself against my flesh.

Taking my time, I sifted through his mass of casually styled hair that was past time for a cut. Jake had glorious hair, thick and faintly wavy, but only in certain areas. It was a curious combination of the straight and curvy that seemed to merge splendidly. His mother's hair, his aunt Vivian once observed privately to me when he raked it back after heaving out of the pool. We were there for the grand opening of R Hotel in New Zealand and had taken a couple of weeks to enjoy the sun.

"Sorry about the other night," I offered softly into the companionable stillness, his hair like a fine caress between my fingers. "I was in a weird place. Mentally, that is." He didn't say anything for a spell, but his arms tightened around me, letting me know he heard me and that it probably wasn't worth discussing anymore.

Lost in my own thought, I shrieked with laughter as he suddenly scoured my delicate stomach just below my navel with his spiky cheeks, growling like an untamed animal and sweeping it back and forth like my pale skin was a towel and his face was wet. "Stop!" I half wailed, half snickered as my belly contracted from the scruffy, merciless tickles and my fingers yanked on the captured strands.

"Maddy?"

There was a brisk knock and Jake had enough time and sense to jerk his head up and simultaneously flip my shirt down before the bedroom door was pushed in, spilling light from the corridor into the room.

Lily Volt suspended just inside the bedroom, one hand still clutching the brushed nickel door handle, as she took in the revealing sight of Jake on top of me. In bed. With me half naked wearing an idiotic grin on my face and him settled contently between my legs.

"Lily!" I bolted upright and nearly knocked Jake off the bed. I winced at my achy muscles but forced enthusiasm into my voice. "Hi! I didn't know you were here." If my overly cheerful exclamations didn't raise eyebrows, I was sure the telling flush on my face did the trick. "You remember Jake?" Duh, of course she knew Jake, considering all the times she'd seen him over the years.

Still possessing the natural poise and grace from her dancing years, my stepmom came further into the room. "Yes, we were reacquainted before you woke and he shared a lovely meal with us." Her pretty brown eyes darted between the two of us as Jake calmly straightened and got out of bed, switching on the lamp.

Sitting on the side of the bed now that it wasn't dominated by the man that was just caught pawing her stepdaughter, Lily enfolded me into a warm but delicate hug, lingering over me as she brushed my hair back with small, pale hands. Dotingly studying my face, anxiety and unease etched all over her beautiful features, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Being my mom's best friend, Lily was always like a second mother to me even before my mom passed, so I was sensitive to how my being hurt might make her feel.

As casually as I could manage, I flicked a corner of the cover over my legs. There was no reason why I needed to flash Lily with the goods and let her know exactly how naked I was... or that I did wax south of the border. _Relax, Maddy, at least you weren't caught with Jake pounding into you._ "Okay, I guess. There was no need to come all this way just for me. I'm fine." I seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

"Of course there was. You were hurt, for crying out loud. Where else would your family be if not by your side?" Doubts about what she'd seen were plain in her eyes, but the questions I knew were coming weren't allowed to be addressed. At least not now. Lily was nothing if not appropriate. Rising to her feet, she skimmed an uncertain, cautious glance at Jake before awkwardly returning back to me. "Would you like something to eat?"

Food actually sounded quite good.

Before I knew it, the moderate sized room was filled with people. My dad, Will, Jonathan, and Chelsea with Charlotte in her arms joined my stepmom as they all made themselves comfortable on chairs, on the sides of the bed, and even leaning against the dresser. A wooden tray was plopped on my lap brimming with steaming chicken soup, rolls and butter, broccoli salad, and a tempting slice of apple pie while someone switched on the second lamp.

Jonathan hopped on the bed next to me, settling in, and snagged a roll. "You slept the day away, brat."

As discreetly as possible, I tried to scoot the tray away from him and dug in. Because, let's face it, Jonathan and I were alike in a lot of ways, including helping ourselves to other people's food. "Must've been the sedative the hospital gave me." I felt like I hadn't eaten in days.

"Or you're just lazy," he countered easily and bit into the bread.

I broke from spooning in soup to shoot him a dirty look.

"The insurance adjuster called," my dad put in. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress at the opposite side of Jonathan and blocking my view of Jake. "He said you can go back to the house Sunday if... if you want. To get some things."

There was a pang, a hard one, at the thought of going back. I didn't know if I could ever sleep in that house again, regardless of the type of improvements made.

I nodded, the once tasty soup stuck like acid in my throat. "Okay."

Something on my face must had clued my dad into my grim thoughts, because he laid a consoling hand on my arm. "It's just a house, precious. It can't hurt you. And we'll make sure it's as good as new before it's done."

"Maybe this is a sign you should move back home," Will suggested from the burgundy and white striped occasional chair near the closet, one ankle propped on his knee. There was more gray on his temple than the last time I saw him. "You need to be near family, not hundreds of miles away."

I groaned inwardly. Not this again. "I am home. And besides, I'm not hundreds of miles from family. Jonathan's here." Shoving the tray aside, I reclined against the pillows and folded determined arms. "And why is it I never hear you badgering Jonathan to move back? Huh?"

"'Cause I'm a man," Jonathan supplied nonchalantly as he buttered another roll. "And I can take care of myself."

"Oh, and I can't?" I turned on him. "Because you have a penis, that makes you more self-sufficient?"

"Maddy!"

I swiveled to Lily. "What? That's what he's saying, isn't it?"

"Now, precious. You know that wasn't what Jonathan meant." My dad pointedly ignored his youngest son's snort. "It's just that Jonathan's place is here because of the regional offices."

"So now my career isn't important enough? And what about the other offices? You don't seem to be worried about them too much."

"Well, no, that's not true." At a lost for an immediate response, he rubbed a big hand behind his neck and sent my stepmother a pleading look for guidance.

"My life is here," I continued mulishly. If I hadn't been looking up, I would have missed Lily skimming a knowing gaze in Jake's direction when I said that, which added unnecessary fuel to the fire because I was so _not_ in L.A. because of him.

My dad sighed. "But you can be a designer in any city, and San Francisco is no exception. Why do you need to stay here?"

I threw up my hands. "Because the weather's nicer! Because the traffic sucks but the shopping's good! Because I already have a job here!"

"I think Maddy's made a home for herself here." Jake spoke up for the first time. "It's like she's always been here. She not only has Jonathan but me as well. She's in good hands."

I would have sent Jake a smile of gratitude if my dad weren't in the way.

"Maddy," my stepmom cut in, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "It's not safe for you here. Just look at you!" Her lips trembled. "You could've died!" That last was said on a choke as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Lil," my dad exhaled and got up to go to his wife. "Really, Maddy, I know you want to build your own life," he started as he put an arm around her, letting me know how upset he was by referring to me by my actual name. "But do you have to be so far away? Your mother agonizes about you constantly."

_My mother's dead_.

I looked away, feeling my own eyes brimming. I hated seeing Lily cry, even if she wasn't my birth mother. Worst yet, I hated _making_ her cry. Given what happened, she now had amble ammunition. Guilt clawed at me until it was a live thing, eating at my resistance like a virus. It was either make my family miserable, or I become miserable. The choice was obvious.

More from the sound of his voice than from looking that I knew Jake had approached the bed. "Maddy's tougher than she looks. In fact, her strength often surprises me."

It was clear it was two against four. Chelsea seemed to be staying neutral, choosing to stay out of the Volt debate. I always knew she was smart.

"But she can be strong back home," Will contended, "where she's closer to family." He gestured a hand. "She has something to prove, no one's stopping her. Jonathan's too busy with VVI, not to mention Chelsea and Charlotte."

And Jake had his own company, his own life. As much as I rely on him, share with him, he wasn't kin. And soon, he, too, will be busy with his own family. The wife and kids he was ordained to achieve and the ruthless clock was ticking.

There was that pang again. Except this time, it was so forceful I needed a minute. I squeezed my eyes shut but immediately saw a wall of shattering glass behind my lids. My eyes flew open on a gasped breath.

"Fine." The word came out harsh, hardly more than a murmur, pried out before I could change my mind.

My stepmom's head snapped up. "Wh... what?" she sobbed and choked out between dazed lips.

Wretched with not only from the disaster in my own home, being banged up for weeks, and now this pressure from my family, I lifted a shoulder. "You get what you want." My eyes met her gushing ones, forcing back my own sobs. "Not immediately, though. I need more time."

"When?" That was from Will, whose foot had slapped to the floor at my final, long-awaited acquiescence.

"After the Skylight Spa project," I announced, not bothering to mention I didn't even know if we had the job. "I'm heading it up, and it would be detrimental to my career for me to suddenly walk away from it, not to mention the damage it would do to my professional reputation." I knew that would hit them where I knew they would understand.

"Give me an ETA."

"Possibly summer, unless issues arise. Take it or leave it."

Will slapped his knee. "Deal. I'll have the arrangements made when the time comes."

Glancing away so they wouldn't see the despondent bleakness on my face, my gaze inadvertently collided with Jake's for the first time since my family unceremoniously barged in.

The look in his eyes was forever seared into my memory.
EIGHTEEN

It turned out there were only minor damages to my home. Most of the structure was unscathed except for the broken glass and the shattered sliding glass door that led to the rear patio. The investigators told us the fire was likely sparked by a deserted cigarette butt found near the rear of my home. Combine that with California's temperamental wind and often dry brushes, and we had combustion.

The question left unanswered was: Who was smoking in the middle of the night in the uninhabited hills so close to my property?

Jake and Jonathan went with me to salvage what I would need while staying with my brother and to meet with the claims adjuster. What personal items we gathered from the wreckage was either brought back to Jonathan's or placed in storage. There was no way I'd be living at home again, and given I was most likely going to be moving to San Francisco in about seven months, there wasn't a point in trying. Jonathan had the space, and though the commute to the office was a pain in the ass, I didn't have a lot of options.

Will had flown back to his wife and kids after seeing that I was okay. My parents, on the other hand, stayed for another two days. My stepmom never asked me about what she'd seen on the first night, but then again, Jake was always around.

Jake was upset with me, though he came over daily for a week to see me. Oh, he didn't come right out and say it so we could duke it out like we normally would. Oh no! That would be entirely too easy. Instead, he was polite, responsive, and so utterly distant he might as well be on another planet - made of ice.

And the monotone, often single-word responses he was favoring was driving me bonkers.

Me: You okay?

Him: Yup.

Me: You've been quiet lately.

Him: Hmm.

Me: Talk to me, Jake.

Him: Am.

Me: Come on, something's up with you. Whatever it is, you're acting like a child about it.

That pissed him off. After that I wasn't even getting the curt responses. Two weeks of the silent treatment and I told him if he was going to act that way, he could very well go back to New York because he certainly wasn't doing much for me here.

So he left.

Me and my big mouth.

I hadn't seen him for six days... not that I was counting. It was a good thing I got my period during that time, because I sure as hell wasn't getting anything else for it to be inopportune.

Jake called to check on me daily after he left, but it wasn't the same. In his place was Brandon, showing up with my favorite takeout – which he wouldn't have known anything about unless his brother ordered it - or a bottle of wine. I suspected Jake deployed his spy on me again while he was occupied in New York.

The slash on my face had scabbed and healed within that time, the bruises fading and easily disguised with some resourceful make-up. As soon as I was able to walk without looking like a hunched back dragging a crippled foot, I went back to work. The injuries on my hands and knees were taking a tad longer to recover, but for the most part I was able to function with minimal hindrance.

We had, in fact, been granted the Skylight Spa project. To the shock of the entire firm, Ryan had taken the whole team out on a celebratory, don't-fuck-up lunch at the City Club on top of one of the high rises in downtown that must have cost a pretty penny. Cal had snickered and muttered to me and Lulu that he was probably billing the pricey meal to the client.

We were to hit the ground running after returning from the Thanksgiving break. Although I was planning on taking the whole week off, given the recent developments and my unforeseen, involuntary absence already, I opted to work to the day before the holiday and flew into San Francisco the morning of. Though unnecessary, Will, still anxious about my recovering injuries, had a plane chartered for me.

As the driver sent by my family smoothly pulled into the mild holiday traffic from the small, private hanger, I responded to a text from Jake, checking to make sure I'd arrived safely. With an affirmative, I wished him a great time with the Reed clan and dumped the mobile back into my handbag and settling for the knowledge that, with the time off and his chaotic schedule, we probably wouldn't see each other anytime soon.

I spent Thanksgiving Day catching up with my thirteen-year old niece and eight-year old nephew, who seemed to live to grate on each other's nerves at every given opportunity. Danica "Don't Call Me Dani" was starting to morph into a young woman and was obsessed, and I mean _obsessed_ , with boys, celebrity gossip, the latest and greatest fashion, and any and all things related to some boy band I'd never heard of but whose tunes I now feared I'd never evict out of my tortured head. Since Will and Olivia were hosting the gathering, she was able to drag me to her poster-plastered room while she spent over two horrendous hours parading around in various skinny jeans, colorful tops, and whatever else she could dig up that she just _had_ to show me while blasting some overly upbeat and way too catchy pop music from her Bluetooth speaker.

David Volt was all about ninjas, samurais, Transformers, and anything even remotely violent. I was starting to wonder how I'd relate to either of them, but I found David to be a riot and a good distraction, especially when he freely mocked his older sister by making faces and repeating after her dramatized declarations. I knew I shouldn't laugh, but I couldn't help it when David wailed, "No carbs! You want me to get fat?" in a high, identical pitch of Danica's when mashed potatoes and rolls were piled on her half-filled plate.

It was during the festive meal that it was announced I'd been recruited to spend Friday shopping with the female folks followed by a few hours of "relaxation" at the spa while the men and David spent the day in weird looking shorts trying to whack a hard ball with a steel club.

God have mercy.

Everyone seemed to take the kids' bickering and ranting in stride, and I pondered, not without a little trepidation, if I would be able to accept this as the new norm when I moved back, to get sucked back into the Volts' way of life as if I'd never left.

I missed Jake.

And I hated missing him, wondering what he was doing and if he was having a head scratching moment with his own family like I was with mine, if he was going crazy between running a thriving enterprise, Vivian's upcoming birthday celebration, appeasing Jackson's persistent and regular demands, and the enduring investigation in New York. If he was feeling my absence the way I seemed to live his.

Appearing to read my thoughts, Danica voiced in between bites of green beans, "How come Jake didn't come with you?"

Lily's eyes shot to mine but I didn't meet them. Jake had joined me for holidays the last years and had an open invitation from my family, regardless if it was just to visit or for any celebrations. Danica gave me a wide, smirking grin, and I could almost hear the words she'd thrown out earlier in her room on the topic of the opposite sex. _Jake's cray-cray hot. You should totally tap that_.

Appalled, both at the thought that anyone might guess the truth, that my teenage niece spoke that way, and that I even _had_ a teenage niece, my response was the practiced and age-old denial of, "We're just friends."

_Liar_.

Okay. Friends with benefits, but my teenage niece didn't need to hear that.

"He's been really busy lately," I alleged now. "And his aunt is having this big sixtieth birthday thing on Saturday, so going away wouldn't have been practical."

"He's welcomed to come up for Christmas," Olivia suggested. A tall, slender blond with quiet blue eyes, she smiled reassuringly. "With what's going on in New York, I'm sure he'd be glad to get away from it all for a few days.

Jonathan swallowed a mouthful before declaring with his usual _charm_ , "If he wants to get away from it all, the last thing he should do is hang with Maddy, because we all know she's a... ow!" He rubbed at his ribs and slanted Chelsea, who was seated between him and Charlotte's highchair, a look. "What was that for?"

"I'm sure," my stepmom interrupted the wordless dispute between Chelsea and her husband, "Maddy would agree that Jake would likely spend time at home with his own people then be here with us. He's an extremely sought after man, not only professionally but personally. It wouldn't be fair to expect him to drop everything just because a college friend asked it of him."

This was directed at me with a knowing, silent communication across the table. I wasn't sure what she wanted me to say but was saved from having to come up with anything by Jonathan's snort. "I don't think he knows that, Lily. You should've seen those two that time we went back to her place to pick up her stuff. He was all over her, lugging her around like she was an invalid and he was her personal nurse and bodyguard. On the friendly side, if you know what I mean. I swear if I didn't know better, I'd think they were—son of a bitch! Would you stop doing that?" Jonathan glared at the exasperated woman who had a stupid moment a few years ago and married him, then squirmed in remorse as both our dad and Lily reprimanded him on his language at the dinner table and in front of the kids.

Charlotte giggled and clapped her hands enthusiastically.

My fork had clattered nosily onto the fancy china. "That's not true," I contended as my brother mumbled an apology. "He and I—"

"That's nonsense," Olivia cut in. "There's nothing going on between Maddy and Jake. Isn't he seeing someone... gosh, where did I see that? I saw it online just the other day." Her fork waved as she tried to remember. "I was looking for updates on what happened to Maddy and there was a link... You know how sites give you suggestions on other articles that might be of interest, and since Maddy and Jake have been seen together in the past, you couldn't read about one without seeing updates on the other? There wasn't much about what happened at Maddy's, but there was this short piece about him cozying up with someone at a restaurant recently and how they left together in a hurry. The place was dark and the pics were taken with someone's phone, so I couldn't see their faces very well. In any case, he was all over her. The only thing I could make out was that she was a brunette with long hair. Pretty hot and heavy, if you ask me." She sighed longingly.

"You want hot and heavy?" Will commented, sending a lascivious wink to his wife. "I'll give you hot and heavy."

This was followed by loud groans, teases, laughter, and Charlotte's loud demand for jam.

I was surprised I didn't drop dead right there at the table from the blood draining out of my body and dashing to flood my head. _Shit!_ Someone had captured me and Jake at that little place in Marina del Rey. Lily's gaze was glued to me and I prayed my panic was only internal. I kept my eyes lowered, trained on the delicious and plentiful meal I wasn't really seeing.

"—that red head." Olivia was saying as she turned to Will for confirmation and I zoomed back into the conversation. "That other thing we saw online. While he was in New York. I think she's some sort of manager with the company. She was holding on to him a little too intimately as they came out of the hotel, not something you'd normally see with platonic colleagues, that's for sure." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's just that way with all women."

The congregated blood in my head plummeted to my toes.

Chelsea sent me a curious, sympathetic look, but I couldn't return her attention either.

"What he does on his time off is none of our business," my dad disapproved from down the table, having no idea my heart had stopped beating. "And his active social life is certainly not an appropriate discussion. Now David, why don't you tell your Aunt Maddy about that new gadget you got for your birthday?"

The rest of the evening passed by on hazy autopilot.

On the way back to my childhood home, Lily tried to push for private time with me, but I just made excuses about being too tired – recovering injuries and all that – and promised her time later. As soon as I was in my old room I got on my tablet- Jake had returned it to me a while back after the necessary info had been retrieved from it - and searched for hits about Jake, and sure enough, found exactly what Olivia had seen.

The article was about the ongoing bomb threat investigation that ended up costing R Hotel a hefty sum, but as a side note to the piece, there was a photo at the bottom of Jake and an attractive red head, walking way too close to be casual, her fingers wrapped over Jake's broad shoulder as she looked snugly over at him with a knowing lift of her lips. I couldn't make out where his hand was since their sides were brushing, but by the angle of his body, it was probably behind her. The caption accompanying the shot read: Jake Reed, COO of R Hotels & Resorts on a night out with Alison Ayers, Director of Regional Client Relations.

_Executive relations_ was more like it.

Powering off the device, I shut my eyes, feeling the pressure in my chest like a stronghold choke at my heart. It was a familiar sting, so deep I could hardly breathe and knew from experience it would leave a memorable scar. The photo wasn't anything that was too overt unless you consider the short black dress that skimmed high on her thighs underneath her open wool coat, the V-neck low enough to expose half her cleavage, and the smiling, appreciative way she was turned toward him.

Excuses, reasons, pardons raced through my head, in self-preservation and in vain.

You don't own him.

There's probably nothing going on.

_He wouldn't do that to you_.

Right after each thought there were more plausible ones that couldn't be ignored.

He's been acting funny lately.

Why is there always evidence of other women when he's out of town? And he's away a lot.

Does she have to be naked and on top of him before you see the truth?

The distance you felt was probably him turning his attention to someone else.

Switching the tablet for my smartphone, I read through the last text he'd sent me this morning just after I landed in Frisco. _Arrived ok?_ A bland, to-the-point inquiry that was sent most likely out of polite inquiry rather than real concern.

Tears threatened but I hardened them away. I wasn't going to cry. Not for him. Not ever again.

Why was I so stupid to give him, or anyone, the power to hurt me?

The mattress dipped as I sank onto it. My teeth clenched painfully as I tried to contain the roiling nausea within me. I didn't know I was doing it until my dry gaze hit on Josh's information. Was I looking for it? I couldn't say and didn't really want to spend the time analyzing why lately I'd felt the urge to make that lost connection after all this time of remote silence. Closure? Did it matter?

There was a time when I loved him with all my heart, all my devotion, only to have that smacked me in my shocked face when it became apparent I came second to his career. Before the smoke had cleared and it occurred to me to ask him why, if I was somehow not good enough, he'd settled in Illinois.

Not giving myself time to second guess my motives, I pressed on the text icon next to his number and began typing.

Josh Fieldergast?

I had just set down the phone on the table when within seconds the mobile chimed.

Maddy?

The air halted out of me, emotions I couldn't define churning wildly as I stared at my own name from someone that at one time meant the world to me but was now just a distant memory.

My mind blanked. What should I say? I hadn't planned on this. A dozen times in the last year I thought about doing this, about reaching out, if only to ask him why, but now that I finally worked up the nerve, I couldn't put two coherent thoughts together.

_Happy Thanksgiving_ , I typed. It was safe and neutral.

This time the response took a few minutes. Was he having as much of a hard time as I was trying to figure out what next? When it finally came, the words were so unexpected it made me burst out.

_Gobble, gobble_.

Lol! How's the windy city?

In LA w fam. You in town?

No. Frisco.

Another pause, then, _how've you been?_

Same. You?

Can't complain. Well, can but won't.

Since when?? Lol.

Haha... so wassup, Maddy? Why now?

I knew exactly what he was asking. Why now, indeed? _Thought about you a few times lately. Dunno why._

The mobile fell silent for so long I thought he wasn't going to respond. His next question had my thoughts boggling. _How's Reed?_

Jake? Why the hell would he ask about Jake? _Fine, I guess. Dunno_.

When you back in LA?

Sunday.

Have time for an old friend then?

The air was strained out of me as I stared at the question. A million cautions raced through my head. What about Jake? He would go nuclear.

Would that be before or after he finished fucking the red head?

Anger fused me. Good. Anger was so much easier to deal with than hurt. _Coffee?_ I wrote back.

Absolutely. Look forward to it.

Since I was due to arrive back in L.A. that morning, we made arrangements to meet early afternoon in a corner café in West Hollywood.

As I stared at the vaulted ceiling that night, I knew I wasn't behaving rationally, maturely, or effectively. Chelsea had advised me to discuss this with Jake calmly and sensibly the first time this happened. Like the fool that I was, I did and allowed him to sweet talk me back into his bed. Well, that was no longer the case. No man was worth this miserable agony. Logic and broken hearts didn't mix.

He could kiss my ass.

Fuck calm.

Fuck sensible.

*****

By the time my feet were being expertly scrubbed, buffed, and worked over by magic fingers, I was ready to veg out in a puff of ecstatic sighs and pool onto the leather lounger in an unrecognizable euphoric mass. My mind was on a satisfying vacation. Truly, denial was a beautiful thing. Well, denial and three bubbling flutes of splendid champagne.

Olivia did have an excellent eye for pampering.

While my sister-in-law was getting massaged with Danica and one of her school friends at the backroom, Charlotte getting her little toes painted while on her mother's lap, the rest of us were enjoying the other rich amenities. With Lily to one side of me and Chelsea at the other, we giggled like we were Danica's age. And every little thing was a source of amusement to our befuddled brain and worthy of stomach curling, knee slapping roars of uncontrollable laughter.

The current topic of discussion? Men.

"Your father was at a complete lost, the poor thing," my stepmom was saying, shaking her head as she reminisced fondly. "He hadn't a clue why I threw it back in his face. He tried though, he really did. But honestly, why he thought wilted carnations purchased from a guy at the freeway off ramp was a thoughtful Valentine's Day gesture was beyond me." Slim, pale fingers flew up to her lips as she hiccupped delicately. "I was never big on the so-called holiday, but still..."

Chelsea leaned over. "But you're still crazy about him."

A smile tugged at Lily's mouth. "Yeah. Crazy being the key word. Sometimes he infuriates me so much I could stomp on him with one of Maddy's Louboutins. But he's a good man," she added and wiggled her toes, enjoying the new pale pink polish. "And I wouldn't change all the years for the world."

"How did you know he was the one?" I'd asked Jonathan this question about Chelsea, but I'd never asked either my dad or Lily, feeling like it was a betrayal to my mother, but as it left my mouth, I discovered I really wanted to know.

"It's not any one particular thing. Some people say you just know. I'm not sure I agree with that. I think it's more knowing the person you love will move mountains with you to make things work – not just to be with you – but be committed to it, and that no amount of misgivings, lures, or obstacles would change that. It's work. It's being committed to your vows and knowing that ending them wasn't an option. Ever." Faintly, she dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, just look at me getting all sentimental."

Chelsea, too, batted at her lashes. "Must be the booze," she confessed. "I hope Jon and I will be as happy as you and Vincent after all these years."

"Uh, that's so sweet. I know you will. Jonathan's a good man, as well. Both of the boys take after their father. Loyalty is strong with us Volts." She teased a glance at me. "One day Maddy will find her other half and will be just as happy."

That saddened me, but I chose not to let it get me down. "This is a nice place," I observed, deliberately changing the subject. "I'm really stoked about Skylight Spa. If all goes well, maybe we can take a trip to Shanghai next year and test it out."

"Oh," my stepmom perked up at that. "Tell us all about it."

I shared with them a woman-to-woman look. "Well, let me tell you. Nothing I say about the spa can compare to the client himself. Thomas Sorensen." Puffing out excess hormones, I mocked fan myself with a hand. "Holy hormones, ladies. He is, by far, the _hottest_ man I'd ever laid my eyes on."

"Wait... Thomas Sorensen. Why does that name sound familiar?"

I'd nearly forgotten. "He knows dad," I told Lily. "Or rather, VVI."

"Tell," Chelsea demanded. "Leave no details untouched. What does he look like?"

So I told them all about the modeled-face developer who could stop traffic with a delicious wink, whipping out my phone to google his picture so they could see exactly what I was talking about. Perhaps it was because I was nicely buzzed, but I found myself telling them about the conference room interaction and how he singled me out for his attention. "I won't lie. I was flattered. I mean, a man that looks like that telling _me_ I was beautiful. Can you imagine my shock?"

Brows puckering, Chelsea appeared bewildered. "What are you talking about? You're stunning. Of course he noticed. He'd have to be six feet under not to."

It was my turn to be dumbfounded. "You think I'm stunning?"

"Um, earth to Maddy? You need glasses?"

"She's just fishing for compliments." Lily dismissed with a chuckle while wiggling manicured fingers.

"Makes me sick," Chelsea continued. "The way men practically trip over their own feet when she walks by. Or have you forgotten the sprawled men at the boutiques today?"

She was exaggerating, but I still appreciated the sentiment. "Come on, Chels. If that were true, I'd be married with five kids by now."

"Hah!" she exclaimed, then gave her droopy-eyed daughter draped on her chest a soothing pat before lowering her voice. "That's because the men you dated were weak. They couldn't deal with the fact the person they were with outshined them like the sun to flashlight. I'm sure they loved it at first," she put in, vexed at the whole idea as we gaped at her sudden fit. "Probably getting slaps on the back from their buddies and congratulating them on the hot girl they landed, but when those same buddies and even strangers on the street start giving you the googly eyes, they couldn't handle it."

My stepmom and I exchanged gazes and erupted into sidesplitting elation at the same time. "'Googly eyes'," I choked in between gasps of deprived oxygen. I really didn't know why we thought it was so humorous, but who cared? This was fun.

Tears of mirth were streaming out of my eyes when I heard my mobile go off. Digging a hand into the deep pocket of the thick terrycloth robe supplied by the spa, I fished out the offensive thing. And sighed.

"Hey," I answered.

"Maddy, what's this I hear about you not being here tomorrow night for the party?"

Chelsea caught my eyes. She mouthed, _Jake?_

I shook my head at her but responded into the phone. "I'm up north with my family for the weekend. I'd sent flowers to Vivian the other day with my regrets along with a gift donation to a charity of her choice. I also told your father that I wasn't going to be able to make it."

Brandon huffed out a breath and muttered, "Well, that explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"It means Jake's been acting like a fucking constipated bear – and you know he's no peach on a summer day under normal circumstances, but even my father's keeping away from him. I was hoping you being here tonight would divert him from the stick up his ass. Then my aunt not so casually threw out that you weren't comin... you think that's funny, do you?"

I was laughing so hard I had to press my face against my thighs, nodding my head though he couldn't see me. "God, yes. You are so witty."

There was a pause. Then an incredulous sound came through the line. "Are you high, Maddy?"

That got me going for a full minute and a half before I was able to wheeze out. "Just champagne. God, Brandon. I _am_ on vacation."

"Does Jake know where you are?"

That was like a bucket of cold water to my previously fine disposition. My voice could freeze the Bahamas. "I don't have to report to him. Believe me, that's mutual. Give my best to your aunt. Goodb—"

"Hold on!" Brandon screeched before I could disconnect the call. "Is everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better," I seethed.

"Yeah, sure. I believe you," he granted quickly, sounding the exact opposite. "How long will you be in San Francisco?"

"I'm leaving Sunday morning."

"Okay. You want to hang out when you get back? Grab something to eat?"

Glancing up in time to see Lily being assisted to one of the rooms for who knew what, I scooped back my hair and stared at my drying toes in disquiet. "I can't."

"Shit, Maddy. I don't know what's going on between you and Jake, but that doesn't mean you should take it out on me."

"How am I taking it out on you?" Belatedly I realized I hadn't denied there was anything going on between me and his brother.

"By divesting me of your lovely company, naturally."

I chuckled despite myself. "Yeah right. Save your charm for your pretty playthings." I stole a look in the other direction at Chelsea, who was avidly giving instructions to the manicurist. "I really can't, Brandon. I have plans that afternoon."

"Oh? Anyone I know and if not, should be introduced to?"

"It's kind of personal."

"Maddy," he began, concern clearly came across. "You're not dying or anything, are you?"

"Geez, it's not that dramatic. Just someone I hadn't seen in a long time that happens to be in town for the long weekend."

Cautiously, he asked, "A man?" Though always playing second fiddle to his older brother, Brandon was just as astute.

My shoulders slumped, grateful no one was paying me any heed. "Does it matter? It's just with someone I used to know."

"Is that why Jake's acting the way he is? Because you're seeing someone?"

"I'm not seeing someone and this has nothing to do with Jake," I bit out, hating that I even had to mention his name. "He has his own life and I have mine. My world doesn't revolve around him, and I wish people would stop insinuating that it does."

I'd blame my unpredictable outbursts on the champagne, but really, why did everyone make it seem like everything going on with me involved Jake?

"Whoa," he protested, and I could picture him holding up a stalling hand. "I wasn't insinuating a fucking thing, so chill out. All I'm saying is there's obviously something wrong and I'm just trying to get to the bottom of it."

"And what are you, our shrink?"

Okay, I wasn't being fair to Brandon. I knew that, but I couldn't seem to stop myself.

"Well fuck me sideways," he grumbled. "First, I'm blindsided by grouchy Jake. And now there's you. I'm just going to go crawl under a safe rock until this is over. Do me a favor and call me when it is. Have a safe trip back."

Well, shit. He hung up on me.

Tilting close, Chelsea whispered, "Everything okay?"

I stuffed the phone back in the pocket. "Couldn't be better," I said for the second time in ten minutes and signaled for a fourth bubbly.

*****

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe the family was getting to me and I needed to get away quicker than expected. Maybe I just needed answers and couldn't wait another day or two. Or perhaps I was a masochist and didn't even know it.

Whatever the reason, I decided to leave San Francisco Saturday and scheduled an earlier flight home. It was past seven o'clock by the time the charter plane landed, the cold night a slap to the flesh as soon as I step foot on solid ground. After spending some time convincing Will I needed to return to take care of some personal matters, given I lost a week on bedrest, he promised to arrange transport for me, everything from the charter plane to the ride back to Jonathan's house. Sometimes it was really convenient to have an older brother who could and would run a company and all personal matters with a phone call. Sure enough, there was a town car idling, the driver standing with his hands clasped in front of him before he caught sight of me and rushed over for my luggage.

It took over forty minutes to get to Malibu, and I used some of that time to consider what I would say to Jake when I saw him, his reaction at what I'd heard. A part of me felt I should just let it go, to let him go, to let him live his life as he felt he needed to, which was to fulfill his familial obligations above all else. With that poignant thought came the stab of loss of not having him around. The larger part of me couldn't seem to do that, though, that he was too imbedded into my soul to simply step back and detach myself.

Once I was back at the house, I took a quick shower and grabbed the first gown I saw. It was a deep purple chiffon dress with the front dipping to reveal a peek-a-boo cleavage. It slings down softly to mid-thighs, revealing a lot of legs, and I decided on a pair of black satin ankle-strap heels to accentuate them. I was used to prepping my own face and hair for these things, and it helped that I spent the better part of yesterday getting pampered in an exclusive spa, so it took me no more than an hour before I was on my way to Beverly Hills.

By the time I was pulling up to valet at R BH, it was nearly ten o'clock. I wasn't sure how late Vivian's big birthday celebration was supposed to run for, but gauging from the line of cars waiting, I was guessing it was still very much in full swing. Throwing my door open and cursing because I'd forgotten my coat in my mad rush to be on my way, I thanked the attendant and dashed to the automatic glass doors into the posh, glittering hotel, ignoring all the hustling attendants and glittering patrons.

The homey scent of fresh pine and nutmeg assailed my senses as I took in the world of twinkling lights and spectacular holiday decorations throughout the grand lobby. A magnificent tree that grazed the ultra-high ceiling took up center stage, and I veered around it, looking for the ballroom. I didn't have to wander long as I recognized some familiar faces lingering just under a double grand staircase adorned by fully ornamented, fluffy garlands.

"Is that you, Madison?"

I half turned at the question, seeing a man's face I should know but couldn't place for the life of me. His hair was more black than brown and curled attractively around a calculated expression I often find at one of Jake's functions. He was attractive, reeking of spoiled boredom. Assuming my game face, I smiled and held out a hand. "Good to see you. How are you?"

Dry but firm fingers clasped mine before my cheeks were skimmed by smooth, practiced lips. "I'm fine. I haven't seen you all evening. Did you just get here?"

"Yes. I was with family for the holiday but made it a point to make an appearance."

"No one can pull off fashionably late like Maddy Volt."

The amused observation was from someone coming from my left. When I tilted that way, I found one of Jake's college buddies and competitor grinning down at me. "Carter!" I was immediately in the arms of Carter Avery, his long arms giving me a reassuring squeeze before they pulled back. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Wouldn't dare miss Vivian Reed-Moniker's birthday. You remember my wife, Jane?" he asked of the quiet, unassuming woman next him. She gives me a shy smile, though her eyes were sparkling with calm warmth.

"Yes, of course. Hello, Jane. Good to see you." Another round of hugs was exchanged. Jake and I attended their wedding a year ago in Fiji, having to make the special trip from Hong Kong. It clicked then who the first man was – Carter's cousin, Monroe. He was the half drunken jerk who made a pathetic pass at me right in front of an annoyed Jake at the reception. Monroe learned really quick just how fiercely protective Jake could get. "You guys aren't leaving, are you?"

"We don't have the energy we used to," Carter admits, his palm gently smoothing over his wife's slightly rounded stomach. "It's bedtime for Mommy and junior. I believe Monroe's staying for a while yet."

"Oh, congratulations. I didn't realize... well, of course you need your rest, Jane." I glance at Carter, who was busy beaming at his glowing wife. "Listen, have you seen Jake?"

Surprise registered before he shared a questioning look with his cousin. "We just said our goodbyes a few minutes before we ran into you. He was at the bar. He's probably still there."

"Let me walk you in," Monroe offered and held out his arm.

The smooth pulse from the tuxedo-clad orchestra thrummed with each of my steps as Monroe led me into the luxurious ballroom. I thought I might have a problem when the security guards posted at the top of the staircase asked for our names to run it through a thin tablet. Monroe had scowled at the formally dressed sentries, complaining about how he just stepped away for a few minutes, but after he snapped out my name to them we were instantly cleared through without further hassle.

The first person I saw was the birthday girl herself. Dressed in a dazzling blue gown showcasing her impressive height, Vivian threw back her head and laughed boisterously with the group surrounding her. When her mirthful gaze landed on mine, she stilled, clearly taken aback at seeing me at the entrance when I'd told her I'd be out of town, before her face split into a wide grin.

I didn't even think about it. Ignoring everyone around us, I made a beeline to clasp her outstretched hands, enjoying her warm welcome as she enveloped me with her slender arms. She was a head taller than me, about as tall as Jake in heels, but she'd never treated me like a delicate flower. Her arms were strong and sure as I stepped back.

"Happy birthday, Vivian. I'm sorry I'm late."

She waved that off, her caramel colored eyes sparkling. "I'm beyond pleased you made it at all, Maddy."

"Madison's worth waiting for, no doubt about it."

Vivian nearly rolled her eyes at Monroe's grand statement, competently deciphering the artificial social climbers and having little patience for the male of the specie as a whole.

"I'm glad I'm here," I confess, giving her fingers a squeeze, diverting Vivian's frown as Monroe hovered a little too close for form. "I just flew in from San Francisco a little while ago."

"Then we must get you a drink."

As if suddenly remembering we weren't alone, she went around the group with brief introductions. I knew most of them, having been introduced to them at some function or another, but I let Vivian play host, appreciating her easy way with people that was confident but unpretentious. Excusing us both from Monroe and the others, Vivian guided me away.

With our arms linked, Vivian leaned down and murmured as though imparting something scandalous. "Brace yourself, Maddy-love, my eldest nephew has been on a rampage lately. I wouldn't want you caught on the receiving end of his ire," she confessed with an amused wink.

The large bar was set to the side near the dancefloor and the orchestra. There were servers with trays brimming with canapés and champagne – as if I hadn't had enough of that yesterday – but she didn't even glance at them, her focus on her destination.

Which, as it became apparent the closer we got, was not to the bar but to a table near the center of the lively festivity. One dark head stood out as we were stopped and greeted, hugged and smiled no less than fifteen times from point A to point B. Lips after lips grazed my cheeks until I was seriously thinking about fishing out the antiseptic wipes from my clutch.

"Maddy!" Arms imprisoned me and lifted me clear off my feet. I laughed as Brandon squashed me against his chest and spun me around. "You came!" His mouth swoops down to mine, quick as lightening and gone just as fast. "I'm so glad you're here."

Slightly self-conscious at all this attention, I bopped a shoulder when he finally plumped me back on my heels. "You know me. I don't like skipping out on an awesome party." Then my gaze was drawn to a pair of intense gold eyes baiting me from the side. "Jake."

Without a word he seized my hand and tugged me away with him, rudely ignoring the surprised faces around us. His fingers were firm, his hold rigid and unbreakable. He led me passed crowded tables with astounded acquaintances ready to shoot us a polite greeting but were left hanging with their mouth open as we stride by them. I tried to convey my apologies without words, but before I could Jake was ushering me out a side door of the massive ballroom and into a vacant, carpeted hallway. The lively throbs of the orchestra were immediately muffled.

"Was that really necessary?"

Disregarding my exasperation, he ditched my hand. "You told me weren't going to be here." His tone was accusatory, patience clearly wearing thin.

One side of the passage looked out into the courtyard, and at this time of night with the uninviting chill outside, there weren't anyone milling about. This meant I wouldn't have any witnesses to the murder I was about to commit.

"I'm sorry to have spoiled your evening," I heckled back. "I don't plan on staying long."

"I was not implying I didn't want you here."

"That might not have been what you were implying, but that's what your attitude is screaming."

Coolly, he straightened, eyeing me with lofty air that reminded me of his loathed father. The chasm between us was more than the physical five feet, and it was growing fast. "I thought you were staying in San Francisco."

"I was," I answered just as aloofly. "And now I'm here." _God_ , this was not how I had planned our discussion, and now that I was here, I didn't know how to begin. Trying to tame down the resentment, I met his gaze with what I hoped was simple curiosity. "Everything okay in New York?" _With Alison Ayers?_

He slanted me a dubious face. "Really, Maddy? You came all this way to ask me about New York?"

I lifted my chin. "I came to talk to you. In a civilized discussion."

"So discuss." When I fell uselessly silent, he stalked toward me, every movement vibrating with controlled agitation, only to halt, his tight face inches above mine. "Discuss, Maddy."

Why was he behaving like he was the scorned party? I wasn't the one caught messing around with other people. "I can't talk to you when you're acting like a jerk."

" _I'm_ acting like a jerk?"

"Yes," I echoed carefully. "You are."

The seconds of stillness was a countdown to the ticking time bomb.

"This is pointless." Jamming frustrated fists into his pockets, his gaze blindly skimmed around the empty hallway. "Run back to San Francisco. It's what you're good at."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Livid gaze sliced back to me. "Running, Maddy. Need me to spell it out for you? R-U-N-N-I-N-G. Your luggage isn't even stowed away from the last time you ran off, and you're already making plans to hide again."

A harried man in uniform bustled around the corner and immediately froze mid-step as he took in me and Jake. Abruptly he did a three-sixty without a word, disappearing where he came.

I couldn't believe Jake said that. "That's not fair and you know it. My family is there!"

"And I'm not."

I shook my head dismally. "You don't get it. It's not about you."

"Then what is it about?" Fiery, searching eyes studied. Probed. "The minute things get intense you find excuses to pack up and run."

"That's not true." Tendrils of hair grazed my cheeks with the force of my denial. "That's not it at all."

"It never occurred to you to even consider discussing it with me, did it?" he pressed relentlessly. "Your family gave you an easy outlet, and you jumped at the chance."

"There was no easy about it. You were there, Jake. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could've said no."

My back went up at his immediate retort. "They want what's best for me."

"What's best for you?" There was a ferocity in those blistering eyes. Then as though he was afraid I'd see the barely-contained turbulence, he paced away, jaw locked tight. His gaze was lost on the shadowed courtyard, but I knew he wasn't seeing anything beyond the mess that was us in the vacant hallway. " _I am_ what's best for you."

Something inside me clinched painfully. Mournfully. "You want me to tell my dad and Will that I changed my mind? You want me to disappoint them? Is that it?"

He was silent for so long I was beginning to think he hadn't heard me. The only sounds penetrating the vapor of hurt and confusion were his augmented breathing and the upbeat drumming from the other side of the wall.

With a visible breath, he closed his eyes, urgently stealing a moment in the emotional havoc we're desperate to overcome. When his lids lifted, eyes appearing amber were once again clear. Stable.

"I can't do this right now, Maddy. Not here. Not at Vivian's celebration."
**NINETEEN**

A dozen times I thought about sending a message to Josh to cancel our appointment. I vaguely wondered if the same doubts were going through his head, but when he sent me a text this morning asking if we were still on this afternoon, I knew he had resolved to do this. Perhaps it wasn't as nerve wrecking for him or meant as much to him because he was the one who walked out of our relationship.

I didn't know why I felt like I was cheating on Jake. All I was doing was meeting someone I used to know for coffee.

Jake and I hadn't spoken since I discreetly left the party last night, only pausing in my turmoil to give Vivian a quick hug. It felt like the quiet before the storm, and once that hit, I wasn't sure if we'd survive it. Given the unexpected turn of our heated discussion, it didn't dawn on my chaotic mind until I got back to Jonathan's that I didn't get a chance to question Jake about Allison Ayers.

Pushing through the glass entrance, I scanned around the small café dotted here and there with caffeine lovers. It was surprisingly busy for a Sunday afternoon following a major holiday, but then again, wasn't that when most people needed an artificial liquid boost? The dark blond head that was so dear to me at one time popped up, seated quietly at a small round table near the side, and it was like visiting a childhood home as an adult. Nostalgic was the best word to describe it, and things I might had dismissed before became more prominent when he got to his feet and gave me an awkward hug. More lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes at his good-mannered smile, his features still as handsome as ever, but sharper, harder, as though his once youthful aspirations were colored by cynicism.

"Maddy, you look beautiful." One of his hands had lingered down my arm after the hug and gave my fingers a light squeeze. "Haven't changed one bit since I last saw you."

Not wanting him to think I was trying to recapture lost time, I decided on a pair of casual jeans, a thick red sweater to ward off the late November chill, and a pair of red boots. "Thanks," I said, not quite sure what to do next.

Sensing my unease, he pulled out a chair for me and tipped his head at one of two mugs on the table. "I took the off chance you still prefer white chocolate mocha cappuccino. I hope that's okay."

"It's great. Still my favorite."

"Good." Situated, he took a sip from his own steaming cup. "How've you been?

I set my mug down. "Well. Busy with work, but I like it that way. How about you? Are you still living in Chicago?"

"Yeah. I've been with the same company for well over a year now." His thumb rubbed at the plain white handle of his cup as he stared into the brew. "You married?"

"No, not even close."

"Me neither." At my raised brow, he added, "I'm kind of seeing someone, but it's nowhere near serious. Just a few casual dates now and then. Certainly nothing like what we... it's not anything, really. We both know that but just prefer to dine with someone rather than eat alone."

We chatted about trivial matters that people normally glossed over, at times laboring to get through the next few minutes with as little discomfited silence as possible. He'd lost weight, but he excused it by claiming unlike California, people generally walked or utilized public transportation – which still required some foot travel – in Chicago. The weather was erratic and extreme, something his flimsy west coast body took some time to adjust, but his family, his roots, were still very much in L.A., so he got to soak up the sun while visiting a few times a year.

There was a surreal sense sitting here nonchalantly sipping javas with a man I'd planned on spending the rest of my life with and who subsequently proceeded to break my heart without a backwards glance. Thinking back, I didn't think I would have gotten past the devastation as readily without Jake's unwavering and persistent strength.

"It took a while," he commented. "But it became home."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. "Do you like your job?"

He shrugged. "It pays the bills. Listen, Mads, I was really surprised you contacted me. I mean, it's been a while."

His old nickname for me brought back more memories. Lacking anything else, my hand fiddled with my mug nearly the same way he was with his. "I guess I just wanted to know if you were okay. If you were happy you moved." _If Chicago was worth hurting me_.

For the first time since we sat, he met my gaze. His were steady but impassive. "If I regret leaving you, don't you mean? The answers, in that order, would be _yes, sometimes_ , and _yes_. But we can't go back and change the past, as much as we wish we could."

My gaze dropped and landed on a spot on the table. "What made you decide to accept the position? We talked about it a bit, but then that day you came over and just told me arrangements have already been made for your relocation. I was... surprised." That was an understatement.

Fuck. I told myself I wasn't going to bring this up, to not rehash history. But here I was, asking him the one question I viciously tortured myself with over and over again for months.

Remorse blanketed his familiar features, and I remembered them enough to know it was genuine. "I was an idiot. I thought if I went ahead with it, you'd come around. Then after I'd settled, it occurred to me that you wanted me to stay away. I thought maybe we weren't on the same page, and you just didn't want to tell me."

"What?" It was me who was perplexed now. "Why would you think that?"

"Maddy..." He studied me for a moment as if trying to gauge the truth. "You do know why I was offered the position with Martin, O'Malley and Stellwagon, don't you? Did you ever wonder how someone with passable grades in college and just starting out in his career landed a job with such a prestigious CPA firm across the country when I wasn't even looking?" He waited a beat, then cursed as I only stared at him, puzzling at where this was going. "Jake Reed arranged it."

My fingers stilled and I could only gape at him as my mouth parted in disbelief. "I don't understand." I heard my own soft voice as if from far away. Jake did it? How could this be?

"He called in a favor with Stellwagon – under what terms, I'm not sure – but I didn't know that part until I'd been with the company for a few weeks. At first I thought it was because I was new that no one really put in the effort to get to know me. I found out later through the gossip mill it was because everyone knew why I was hired. That it was a favor. R Hotels and Resorts was one of Martin, O'Malley, and Stellwagon's most prestigious accounts. Stellwagon wouldn't dream of denying Reed anything," he added bitterly.

I shook my head, still trying to encompass the full scope in my muddled mind. There was no way, no way Jake would had deliberately done this to me. I reasoned, "But you wanted the job."

"Of course I did, Mads. For someone like me to get a call like that out of the blue? Stellwagon made me an offer so appealing, so enticing, it was unheard of. I was thrilled and thought it was the best thing that could've happened to me." Rubbing a hand on his brow, he choked out a sour laugh. "' _A friend told me about your background_ ,' Stellwagon had said, ' _and we'd love for you to join our team_.' All lies."

"That can't be true." I knew I sounded desperate, clawing for any obvious holes in the accusation. "Why would Jake do that? He had nothing to gain."

"Didn't he?" His brown eyes zoomed in on mine as he tilted closer. "Tell me something, has he finally had the balls to put a move on you yet? Don't answer that," he quipped when my eyes flashed. "Just know this. He knew I was going to propose, heard me on the phone with the jeweler talking about your ring size when you stepped away. I didn't give it much thought at the time. What was he going to do? We both knew you were going to say yes. The next day I got the call from Stellwagon."

It was one bombshell after another. My poor heart stuttered and kicked into a gallop, trying to seek the sincerity from his fixed face. "You were going to propose?" I hadn't misheard that day. The words were like lead in my throat, and I felt the ground slowly opening up to suck me in. "And Jake knew?"

As though he made his point, he sat back. "Oh yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before? That last night. We'd fought, and you didn't say a word."

"What was the point? I didn't know at the time I was just a pawn in Reed's little game. Then when I did, it was too late. I was already in Chicago and, honestly, I was too upset to call you on it. I thought you were somehow involved. I don't know," he sighed, suddenly looking tired. "I guess it was easier to blame you than to accept I was that gullible."

_Jake had held me while I cried_. And all this time he was the one who deviously, audaciously, carelessly instigated it. The master manipulator. But why? Whatever the reason, it obviously left a sour taste in Josh's mouth. Pushing aside my own turmoil for now, I laid a gentle hand on his. "I'm sorry, Josh." What, that he was given a fantastic opportunity but chose resentment over circumstances he couldn't change rather than make the best of it? "Really. If I had known at the time what this was about, perhaps I could've done something about it." To my utter speechless surprise, his hand turned and he was clasping my fingers.

"No, Mads. I'm sorry. A part of me always knew you had nothing to do with it, but I didn't want to face it." His hands tightened. "I should've never left you. That was the worst part." His pleading gaze held mine, imploring for me to accept what he had to say. "The job offer wasn't the best thing that happened to me. You were. But I was too much of a creep to see it, to appreciate you. Just for that alone, I am sorry."

"Oh, Josh," I returned, patting his cupped hand with my free one, reminding myself it'd be rude to pry his fingers off me. "That's water under the bridge. I'm glad we did this, though. If anything, we can be friends, right?"

The smile that ghosted his face was sad, almost... lonely. Disheartened. "Yeah. Sure." Retrieving his hand, he lifted his now cold cup. "Hey, I have an idea," he began excitedly after grimacing at the taste, "why don't you come to Chicago for a weekend? I'll show you some of my favorite hangouts. We'll catch a Bulls game if you want. You can stay with me. I'll sleep on the couch," he added quickly at my look.

Internally grimacing with a whole different taste and trying not to show my unease, I held, "I don't know... the firm just started a new project, and we're supposed to hit the ground running with it. I don't know if I can get away anytime soon."

He slumped with disappointment and defeat, though he gave me an uncomplicated lift of his lips. "I understand, Maddy. It was just a thought."

Josh and I lingered for a bit after his bombshell before saying our goodbyes. I promised to keep in touch, though the assertion sounded hollow to my own ears.
TWENTY

Josh's words rang in my ears like a ceaseless torment as I drove back to Malibu in a mental daze, considering and discarding my approach on how to dig out the truth from Jake and the role he played with Josh's abrupt departure. Did I really want to know? Would I be able to accept the truth, even if it was something I wouldn't want to hear? One question struck me over and over again.

Why?

Why?

Why?

No matter how I diced the possible scenarios, the motivation behind someone who always shielded me from harm would turn around and pull something like that just didn't add up. There was no doubt Jake and Josh didn't see eye to eye and had often verbally, though subtly, pulverized each other's place with me, but to actually go behind my back and vindictively drive us apart?

No. Not Jake.

There had to be an explanation.

Perhaps Josh misunderstood what happened. Perhaps Martin, O'Malley and Stellwagon did hear about his credentials and decided to recruit him. It must be a large CPA firm if it was working with RHR. Weren't big companies always looking for talent?

But if it was a large firm and one working with RHR, which was headquartered in L.A., wouldn't it have an office here? Why Chicago?

A part of me was apprehensive about bringing this up, because if Josh was right and Jake had indeed prompted the whole thing, I didn't know how I was going to react. At the same time, I couldn't ignore it and go through the rest of my days wondering, choosing to be oblivious while it ate and bit at me every time I saw Jake.

Restless energy danced through me as I made my way west. By the time I got back I didn't know what to do with myself, so I used my phone to pull up the website of Martin, O'Malley and Stellwagon. There was a list of its offices, including one in Los Angeles.

It doesn't mean anything. Maybe there was no local openings at the time.

The headshot of George Stellwagon made the air choke in my throat.

It was the man in the black and white photo that was sent to me. He was the one with Jake at the restaurant.

What did this mean? Was the perpetrator trying to tell me all along about Jake's involvement? How would that person even know? RHR was the firm's client, it could had been just another business lunch.

I knew I didn't want to be cooped up inside with the atomic thoughts circling in my head. Peering out of the glass wall, vibrant red bled into luminous yellow high on the horizon above the floating sparkles of the sea, beckoning me. It was too cold for a swim, so I changed into comfortable charcoal workout pants, a pink t-shirt, and a hooded black sweatshirt, banded my hair back into a functional ponytail, threw on a pair of running shoes, grabbed my phone, and took the few feet necessary from the glass patio door where civilized concrete met cool white sand.

Though my doctor would probably advise against it, the cuts on my feet were mostly healed, and I couldn't fight the staggering pull to get out. The chilled ocean breeze soothed the hot blood coursing through my system like raging waves cooled a heated summer shore. It took a couple of minutes for my latent muscles to warm, but I just cranked up the earbuds stuffed in my ears until fast, furious beats pounded and forced all disquieting thoughts away, the salty tang of the endless sea a prevailing distraction. Wet clumps of gray sand kicked up under my feet as my legs pumped along the deserted beach.

It was awe-inspiring, the majestic hues that transformed the calm sky. I loved the sight when celestial kissed earth, warming it before the much colder night prevailed. The peaceful, cadenced rush of surfs couldn't be heard over the upbeat sounds pulsating through my head, but I felt my heart raced as one with the rhythm of nature, and I wished, distantly, that I could just jog like this until I felt nothing but the reflexive response of my body and the sharp blade of wintry ocean breeze against my cheeks.

I hadn't heard a thing other than the rasping sounds of the Foo Fighters belting about something for nothing when it hit me that I wasn't alone. There was no need to glance to my right. I would have recognized the tall, solid form effortlessly keeping pace with me in pitch darkness, much less in the amiable glow of the setting sun, but a glimpse did tell me that though he was in a pair of well-worn running shoes, his jeans and dark green pullover were not conducive to consistent physical activities. I didn't bother to remove the securely perched earbuds, nor did I lower the roaring volume to an acceptable decibel. In fact, I was sure it was so loud he could clearly make out what I was listening to.

If he bothered with any words I didn't bother to understand. My propelling momentum never faltered as I concentrated on what was in front of me. Sweat dotted my chest and overworked calves, my huffing lungs on maximum overdrive, but the only thing I was concerned about at that second was that I kept moving.

He kept right along with me.

And for some reason, that lit a fire to my temper.

Ignoring my screaming muscles, I kicked up my pace, hoping he'd get the hint and leave me to myself. This was a private stretch of prime land, and he shouldn't be here with nothing to say and nothing better to do than to run along with me in his unprepared casualwear.

Bitchy? Yes, but I was in no mood to be nice.

Swiftly I veered away from the shoreline until puffs of dry sand sifted at my haste. The fact that he nimbly shifted to accommodate the three hundred sixty degree turn and was once again by my side, this time to my left, worked to inflame me even more.

It couldn't be comfortable rubbing unyielding denim against your skin, chafing back and forth, but there he was. Neither one of us attempted at conversation since he didn't ask me to shutoff the drowning music. It wasn't until we were less than a quarter of a mile away from Jonathan's that I slowed to a walk, my chest heaving with agitated pants. My taxed, stinging body wanted to collapse into oblivion right there on the gritty ground, but my mind was stronger than the rest of me and by sheer stubbornness alone, I remained upright, shuffling along. Yanking off the earbuds, I let them dangled around my neck and ended the sound barrier with a press on the phone screen.

"How are your feet?" he asked casually as though I hadn't spent the last forty-five minutes intentionally, rudely trying to block him out. "You really shouldn't be running."

I didn't respond right away. He could attribute that to my labored breathing, to my protesting limbs, to taxation without representation, I didn't really care. When the answer came it was almost as though it was from a faraway place within myself, a mechanical space I reserved for times like these.

"They're fine."

The silence that followed was neither uncomfortable nor companionable. The piercing cries of seagulls and the lulling gushes of waves easily overpowered anything that could be deemed as strenuous. We were simply two people walking along the beach at glorious dusk, the winking of early, muted stars a sign that the minutes were passing with or without words.

As the drowsy sun lowered further into its bed, the cold air caused shivers to race along my previously hot skin. The sight of the familiar rear patio had me picking up my steps, wanting to get inside. I was mere inches from my goal when warm fingers clutched my wrist and halted me midstream.

"A minute, Maddy."

I whirled on him so fast his hand fell away. Meeting the startled, golden eyes that could rival the setting sun, I took a deep breath. It wasn't my intent to go in swinging, charging him with accusations before the jury was even out. But I couldn't hold it in and wait for the right timing, because there was never, ever going to be a right time for something like this.

The question, when it came, was soft and hardly above a murmur, though my steady, prodding gaze on him was no less potent. "Were you in any way involved in Josh's job offer in Chicago?"

A flicker. There one beat and gone the next as though it never was. Then he was composed, curious even, as if we were talking about my feelings on the setting sun rather than something that ravaged me with grief and confusion for months. If I hadn't been looking him right in the eyes, hadn't known him deeply, loved him without reservation, all of my adult life, I would had missed it.

And I knew.

_Son of a bitch_.

Sharp, acute stabs broke me from the inside out and I marveled at how blood wasn't seeping out of my trembling flesh to splat on the ground. I wanted to take my numb fists and beat at his unruffled detachment until he was hurting the way I was, until his life was twisted into something he couldn't even recognize anymore.

But I waited. I needed to hear him admit it out loud what he'd done. My throat seized, barely managing to squeeze the harsh words passed the pitiless constriction. "Were you?"

"The fact that you're asking me tells me you already have the answer and that you spoke to Fieldergast." Other than the ticking muscle on his taut jaw and the cold flash of his eyes, he offered me nothing else.

My gaze desperately sought for something less painful than the man mauling me apart and settled at the tranquil scenery mocking me from behind him. Sobs threatened, but I ruthlessly gulped them back. "Why?"

Suppressed fury raged as he hovered close, the words spitting out like deadly gunfire with a devious, too calm voice. "He wasn't right for you."

"That's not for you to decide!" I exploded. "I loved him. You had no right. No fucking right to interfere in my life!"

"That's where you're wrong, sweet," he retorted menacingly. "I have every right. You just haven't accepted that fact yet."

"You're delusional. Who I love, who I decide to marry, is not your concern. The sooner _you_ accept that, the better we'll both be."

Hands on hips, head dipping down in a shake, he laughed – actually laughed – at my assertion, though there was no humor in the sound. My foot itched to connect with his shin, but the only thing stopping me was the suspicion that it would hurt me more than it would him.

"Now who's delusional?"

Oh God, I was going to scream. Scream at him. At myself. At my own stupidity. "It's called boundaries, Jake, and you crossed them." With a coolness I was far from feeling, I deliberately gave him my back and glided open the heavy glass partition to escape into the warmth of the house. "What you did is beyond anything I can conceive," I continued as the door slammed into place behind me and I knew he was right at my heels. "It's like I don't even know you. Never knew you. And I'm the idiot who believed I meant something to you, that you wouldn't consciously do anything to hurt me." Because saying it out in the open somehow made it more real, my eyes clouded and I whirled on him. "And even as I learned the despicable thing you did, I didn't want to believe it. Made excuses for you. And all this time—"

"Save the theatrics, Maddy. Fieldergast was slime. I may have pulled the trigger to put the opportunity in motion, but no one put a gun to his fucking head. He could've turned it down." My lips trembled in shock at his complete lack of remorse as he blazed at me, obviously agitated we were even having this discussion. "No, instead he did what he'd always done, which was exactly what he wanted without thought to anyone else. This isn't about what I did or didn't do. He chose to accept a promising career prospect over his girlfriend."

"Don't you dare stand there and belittle this," I exclaimed through clench teeth, stabbing an unsteady finger at him. "You lied to me!"

"I did what had to be done!" he snarled savagely and I could almost see the walls quake. Hot, infuriated fire flared in his eyes. "He had you wrapped around his little finger. You were beyond reason. You could see _nothing_ but him." He said that last word as if spitting out something foul. "You're right about one thing though. You were an idiot. An idiot for even being with that piece of shit in the first place. You should be thanking me for getting you out of that ludicrous travesty of a relationship."

" _Thank_ you?" The incredulity, the astonishment showed in the jolt of the glare I landed him. "You know what, Jake? Yeah, I'll thank you. Thank you for treating me like an inept teenager who couldn't tell the difference between momentary infatuation and love. Thank you for making decisions for me because God knows I get too easily _wrapped_ up and _around_ a finger of a mere appealing face. Thank you for trusting me not to know my own mind. Thank you for manipulating me and other people and molding us into living the existence you think would be best for us. _But most of all, I'll thank you for_ _staying out of my life_!"

He took a looming step, nearly putting us nose to nose if I'd been taller. "Quit acting like a spoiled diva who didn't get her way. You know what happened was for the best, despite what your pride might be telling you right now. Everything I've done I did it for you. For us!"

"Don't give me that bullshit."

The scowl could have peeled paint. "That's not bullshit."

"Oh really?" I chuckled bitterly, looking away because the stinging throbs in my chest were battling to surface. "How was New York?"

"New York?" There were going to be wrinkles by the time he was done puckering that forehead. "What the fuck does New York have to do with anything, and why do you keep asking me that? We're talking about you and me."

"Don't you mean you, me, and Alison Ayers?" His eyes narrowed ominously at me, but I was already too far gone to care. I knew I was pushing his buttons, adding fuel to the already blazing fire, but I discovered I needed to. I wanted to hurt him, if only with words. "You don't know me at all if you think I'd be into a threesome. I don't play that. And quite frankly, I'm done playing anything with you." I sucked in an unstable breath and retreated, mentally, physically, and wished painfully I could do so emotionally. "It seems I don't know you. I thought I did, but it's apparent I don't. The Jake I knew wouldn't have set out to maliciously hurt me – with Josh, with Alison Ayers, and who knows what else I've yet to find out – and think _nothing_ of it." I swallowed the boulder size sensation of lost stuck in my throat and shook my head, ignoring the tears streaking down my cheeks. "It's best we stay away from each other."

He reached out, snatching my arms and I let him, standing stock still like I was made of stone, cold and impenetrable. "That's not going to happen. You think I'm going to let you walk away from me? Over what? A jackass that left you for the prospect of money and prestige and some fucking story the media painted?"

Maybe because I didn't push, didn't exert any strength or resistance but slowly, gently extracted myself from him that he didn't think to stop me. "I love you, Jake. You meant too much to me for too long for that to vanish overnight. But I can't do this anymore. I won't allow it." I shook my head again, my hands trembling with agonized upheaval. "We're done." My chest rose with the deep breath I took, with the horrific finality of my own words, ignoring the stunned panic in those gorgeous eyes I wouldn't see again. "I wish you the best, I really do. I hope you get everything you want in your life, I just can't be a part of it anymore. I just... I can't."

"Maddy—"

"What's going on here?" Neither one of us paid any attention to my brother barreling down the hallway toward us. "You guys at it again? 'Cause I'll tell you, it's getting old."

"No," I replied without taking my eyes off Jake. "We're finished."

For the second time in as many minutes, Jake made a grab for me again. My attempt to fling him off only managed to piss him off even more as he swiftly seized both of my arms when I turned for escape.

"You're not leaving me."

"Hey!" Jonathan put a hard, restraining hand on Jake's shoulder. "You want to back off now."

It was like a hidden switch was thrown. Chaos unleashed.

Jake whipped around so fast I stumbled back. "This doesn't concern you!" he bellowed, furiously shoving off my brother's arm.

My heart slammed a frantic beat as Jonathan instinctively rammed him back. I'd never seen Jake like this before, the wild craze in his eyes so dark I knew he was in a different, twisted place. My brother could be a hothead sometimes and wouldn't hesitate to throw down like a thug in a dark alley.

"Don't fucking mess with me, asshole," Jonathan snapped out as Jake took an alarming step closer. "I won't hold back on that pretty face, regardless of how my sister feels. So you better back. The. Fuck. Off."

"Stop!" I screeched when Jake ignored the edgy warning, his entire body fiercely strung out like a taut wire as he braced for no holds barred. I had no doubt that he wouldn't hesitate. Years at a boarding school with a bunch of spoiled boys meant he probably wouldn't think twice about showing anyone he wasn't someone to mess with. Not until now did I notice Chelsea, her normally sweet features twisted with alarm, standing helplessly behind her husband, tensely gripping the tail of Jonathan's shirt with two delicate hands as if that could hold back her provoked, enraged husband. "Please go, Jake. This is my brother's home, and I won't have you upsetting Chelsea."

Jake was so rigid it looked like he could crack in half. And I was panting, stiffening and waiting for his next riled, irrational move. This was a side of Jake that, though I'd never witnessed, I'd long suspected lurked behind the usually composed façade.

I sensed Chelsea's held breath and Jonathan bracing for the furious burn to act but kept my focus on the suddenly unpredictable beast. Jake's maddened gaze reluctantly darted to Chelsea hovering anxiously behind his adversary, her pretty face a mask of panic and apprehension, to the sound of Charlotte howling for her mommy from her bedroom, and something must have reached him because it was like a giant chain was thrown over him and he was abruptly contained.

Without a word he swiveled around in a hot, dangerous fury and was gone.

My body slumped back against the wall when I heard the door slammed. Weakened and emotionally drained beyond words, my legs turned into jelly and gave out on me. My limp, emptied body slid down until my ass was on the unforgiving hardwood. Chelsea was immediately on me.

I said the first thing that popped into my head. "You sure you want me stay here with you guys?"

Then I burst into tears.

"Oh, honey, it's all right. He's gone now." Slender arms wrapped around me. "He won't hurt you again."

I was sobbing so violently I couldn't tell her I wasn't afraid of Jake, never had been, so I only shook my head. From the corner of my eye I caught Jonathan raking a frustrated hand through his hair, and I knew he'd rather have me call Jake back for round two than to deal with my tears. He mumbled something about seeing to Charlotte and hightailed it out of sight.

The zany thought warped the sobbing into hysterical, uncontrollable laughter within a blink of an eye.

I finally lost it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

K.C. Ale's imagination first took root not long after college when she was working full time for a not-so-promising company, and after a whopping five months, she told her boss to take the reeking job and hit _delete_. (Isn't that what every heroine in her early 20's would do when faced with a tyrannical boss?) She had no idea she would not find another job for six months! With nothing but time in her hands, characters began to form and became personified, and she frantically shaped the vivid ideas into words, regularly writing all day into the early mornings and loving every second.

Years later, she's still writing and continue to love every hair-yanking moment. K.C. lives in Los Angeles with her teenage son, a humbling reminder that she's a mom first, so no more quitting on a whim.
Thank you so much for reading _Maybe I Lied_. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review.

I hope you enjoyed getting to know Maddy and Jake as much as I adored sharing their story. They fight for their much deserved happiness together in _Maybe I Knew_. Here's an excerpt.

**Excerpt from** _Maybe I Knew_

He looked vaguely familiar, so he was probably Thomas's chauffer. Clasping on to the lapel of the borrowed jacket with cold fingers, I shuddered in the cool night air and returned the civil greeting with one of my own. "Thank you," I offered and proceeded into the welcoming warmth of the vehicle.

Scooting into the toasty, dim car, I let the nice man closed the door behind me, thinking he was trying to preserve the interior heat before Thomas arrived. That was until two distinct taps on the roof and we began peeling away from the driveway.

I spun around in my seat to gape out the window at the growing distance of the black suit man staring after us. "Hey! Wait a minute!"

"It's all right, sweet."

Supple leather held tight as I pivoted to the source of the low, familiar voice coming from the opposite corner. "Jake!" I watched, stunned speechless for a beat, as he steadily lifted a tumbler to his mouth and took a healthy swallow as though he hadn't just nabbed me right off his hotel. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Shadows played across his face as the vehicle flew through traffic and passed under streetlights, periodically illuminating his hard, uncompromising features. "Taking you away."

"Taking me..." My eyes were so huge I was sure they absorbed my entire bemused head. "I was with someone! You can't just snatch me away. This is kidnapping!"

He grimaced at my raised voice, rubbing at a temple like _he_ was the one with the headache. "Calm down, Maddy. It's not kidnapping if your family knows where you are."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Once we arrive at our destination, your family will be contacted. They'll know you're with me. Safe."

My ass perched on the edge of the leather as though ready to bolt at the slightest chance. "It's abduction when I'm taken against my will, Jake. Now turn this car around before I do something you'll regret."

Hot gold eyes peered at me before lowering to the tumbler again. In one gulp the content was gone. He was sitting opposite me with a space of about six feet of dead air between us. Dressed in a pair of dark dress pants, a white shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair disheveled like he'd plowed ten frustrated fingers into it one too many times, he looked like he got out of the office after an extra-long, exceptionally hard day. Setting down the now drained glass, he stretched his long legs out in front of him, clasped his fingers across his taut stomach, leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

Tuning out my threat.

Like I wasn't even here.

Wrong answer.
Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by K.C. Ale

Work and Play Series

Infiltrate

_Volt Serie_ _s_

Maybe I Lied

Maybe I Knew

The Platonic Boyfriend Experiment (coming soon!)

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