The Risk-Taker (5 page)

“But don’t worry, there’s plenty of fun even if Cupid’s arrow doesn’t strike true. The town and many of our businesses have sponsored group events, donated dates and exciting prizes for everyone to enjoy.”

Mrs. Copeland frowned. “Now, for those of you who remember the little mishap from several years ago—” the frown tightened into a fierce glare that swept across the crowd “—never fear. Anyone nominated without their consent will have the opportunity to buy their way out of the events. But you must do it immediately because this get-out-of-jail option is only available tonight.

“But I’m certain we won’t have anyone taking advantage of that this year. I’ve seen the list and I think our Cupid made some excellent choices.”

Snapping open a piece of white paper with a huge red Cupid watermarked right in the middle, Mrs. Copeland instructed the men to come to the stage to present small bouquets of pink-and-orange roses someone had prepared.

“Dennis Schroeder and Melissa Thompson.” A boy—probably sixteen or seventeen—moved to the front of the room. A pretty blond girl jumped up and followed immediately behind him. She beamed up at him when he handed her the flowers and it was evident the two were already a couple.

The room buzzed with a myriad of emotions as name after name was read. Some people were obviously happy. Others were surprised. No one seemed upset...yet. Several of Lexi’s friends were called away, although none of them appeared particularly excited about the prospect they’d been given.

Another name was read, one he didn’t recognize. Gage didn’t pay much attention, assuming the guy was an outsider, until Mrs. Copeland read out his sister’s name. “Alexis Harper.”

Beside him, his sister bounced out of her chair. With a wide smile on her face, he watched her wind through the tables up to the front of the room and realized he’d met the stranger, after all. It was the same guy who’d come in behind him at Sugar & Spice. And he did not like the way this guy was looking at his sister.

Gage clenched his hands beneath the table. His thumbs throbbed, but he ignored the pain. His entire body bunched with the intention of jumping up to wipe that satisfied smirk off his smug face. But a hand slapped down onto his thigh and tightened warningly.

“Don’t,” Hope breathed. “She knows what she’s doing. She paid to be paired with him.”

His eyes burned with the trapped heat of resentment when he turned them at Hope. But she didn’t budge, and neither did her hand. In fact, her grip tightened. As if that was enough to keep him seated at the table if he didn’t want to stay.

But somehow he found himself doing just that. He stared into her green-gold eyes and his hard muscles suddenly eased. The startlingly quick and disturbing need to lash out at something—the guy ogling his sister would have worked—disappeared.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air that smelled just like her—crisp, sharp but somehow still mysteriously sexy.

“I’ve saved the best for last. Gage Harper.”

Startled, he jerked away from Hope, grateful for the distraction. Until the reason Mrs. Copeland was calling his name sank in.

The entire room stared expectantly at him. After everything he’d been through in the past few weeks—torture, rescue, hospital, debriefing and media circus—being the center of attention should have been easy. It wasn’t. Gage hated all the attention. How could having the barrel of a gun digging into the side of his skull feel less dangerous than having every eye in the crowd on him?

“I know most of you are aware of the events leading up to Gage’s return home. And while we won’t be getting into that this week, I’m certain no one will be surprised to learn that the committee recently voted to make the Wounded Warrior Project the beneficiary of this year’s events.”

Mrs. Copeland held out the final bouquet of roses and gestured toward him. Gage’s gaze darted restlessly around the room, looking for anything or anyone that might rescue him from this moment. His eyes landed on his mother, the woman beaming at him. Next to her, his father sat tall and straight in the uncomfortable chair. For the first time he could remember, pride filled his eyes.

The shock of that reaction, more than anything else, had Gage standing. The entire room erupted into applause. Somehow he found himself beside Mrs. Copeland as she read out, “Hope Rawlings.”

Murmurs bounced through the crowd, although he wasn’t sure what they meant. Were they as shocked as he was? He wasn’t sure how to react. Or what Hope might do. That’s why he stood there, frozen, every muscle in his body tense.

She shifted restlessly on her chair and for a moment he was sure she was about to decline the match. Great. Of all the people they could have paired him with.

He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten on the damn list. Probably his mom. Or sister. He’d kill them later.

No doubt whoever this year’s Cupid was had thought to do him a favor. Everyone knew he and Hope had been friends. Not everyone knew they weren’t anymore. They’d probably figured Hope was safe.

Boy, were they wrong.

A frown rippled across Hope’s face before she wiped it away. She obviously didn’t want this any more than he did. Spreading his hips wide, he braced for what was coming as if he could find his center of gravity and counter the blow just like he had inside that ring.

To his surprise, it never came. Instead, Hope slowly pushed up from the table and began walking toward him. A hush fell over the crowd, the quietest he’d heard them all night. He wasn’t the only one waiting to see what Hope would do.

The spotlight that had illuminated Mrs. Copeland swung to her. It bathed her in a golden light, making her warm blond hair glow.

Maybe she was just coming up front so she could look at the crowd when she announced that she’d be using that escape clause and paying to extricate herself from an unwanted week paired with him. But the closer she moved to the stage the less certain he was that she was going to reject the match. Her mouth stayed stubbornly shut, pressed tightly into a straight line.

Then it hit him. She couldn’t do that without looking like a complete bitch. Thanks to his capture and rescue he’d become the town golden boy. No one would forgive her for rejecting him now—especially in front of a room full of strangers.

Gage opened his mouth to do it for her, but even as his lips parted, he realized the words wouldn’t come.

Hope stopped in front of him. The room shrank down to just the two of them, everyone else fading away. He looked down into her bright eyes and realized they were full of dread and hope. Her hands stayed solidly at her side, clasped together, as if she didn’t expect him to actually offer her the bouquet he was holding.

Her eyes pleaded with him. This was his chance for a little payback. To reject her publicly in front of the entire town.

He couldn’t do it.

Slowly, he extended the flowers, offering them to her. The entire room sighed, as if they’d been collectively holding their breaths.

Gage was surprised to see a slight tremble in her hand when she reached for the bouquet and brought it against her chest.

But Gage didn’t relinquish the flowers. Instead, he let his knuckles brush against the soft satin of her dress and used the stiff stems to pull her into his body. Leaning down, he touched his lips to her ear and whispered so only she could hear.

“Watching you squirm is going to be so much fun.”

5

W
ELL
,
SHE
’
D
GOTTEN
exactly what she wanted—Gage’s undivided attention. Unfortunately, it took exactly thirty minutes to realize the plan was backfiring.

Hope desperately needed a few minutes away from the constant weight of his stare. Even from across the room, where she’d gone to grab a drink—finally—she could feel him watching her.

Jenna grasped her arm, yanked her out of line and dragged her through the swinging door into the small catering kitchen. “Oh, my Mary and Joseph, how did that happen?”

The moment the door shut behind them, blunting the music and laughter from the party, the rubber band of tension that stretched through her body eased. Her shoulders no longer felt tight enough to snap.

It should have been a relief. It wasn’t. Instead, Hope found herself looking through the small round circle of glass cut into the center of the door, searching for someone she wasn’t supposed to care anything about.

“Hope.” Jenna shook her, pulling her attention back where it should be. “Concentrate, girl. Why didn’t you buy your way out of this? Gage Harper? Someone must be playing a joke.”

“If they were I’d be the butt of it. How do you think it would have looked if I’d publicly humiliated the town hero? I couldn’t have done that even if I’d wanted to.”

Jenna opened her mouth before snapping it shut again. Her eyes narrowed as they searched Hope’s face. Hope felt her skin warm beneath the too-keen stare.

“If you’d wanted to. Meaning you didn’t want to.”

She shrugged and glanced guiltily away.

“Hope Rawlings, what did you do?”

“Bought him,” she mumbled beneath her breath. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone, but somehow it made the guilt that had swamped her the moment Mrs. Copeland read her name a little easier to bear.

“You did what?” her friend screeched.

Hope slapped a hand across Jenna’s big mouth. “Hush.” They might be in the back kitchen, but that didn’t mean the walls weren’t thin enough for anyone on the other side to hear if Jenna was loud enough.

Jenna peeled Hope’s fingers away and whispered around them, “Why the hell would you do that? Only a handful of people know about what happened, but...don’t you think that’s kinda cruel? The man told you he loved you.”

“We were eighteen. He didn’t know love from lust,” Hope countered, although even she didn’t quite believe that. But even if he had then—and she wasn’t ready to admit that—he certainly didn’t now.

“Is this because he almost died?”

“No,” Hope protested, although the word didn’t quite taste right. “That has nothing to do with this. I want that story, Jenna. If I can get it I’m pretty much guaranteed a job with the
Courier.
”

Jenna stared at her. “This is about a
story?
”

“What else would it be about?”

Her friend frowned. “I don’t know. Realizing you were wrong to let him go? Love? Isn’t that what this entire week is about?”

“You thought...” Hope’s words trailed off to nothing.

Jenna was happy to fill the void. “That Gage’s brush with death forced you to admit you’ve always cared about him? Absolutely.”

“Of course I care about him, Jenna.”

Jenna made a rude sound in the back of her throat. “There’s a difference between caring and
caring.
Not wanting to care and not caring aren’t the same thing.”

Hope stared at her friend, completely floored. This conversation was coming out of left field and she had no idea what to say.

Luckily the door to the kitchen swung open, saving her from having to come up with something. Unluckily, the person standing in the middle of the open doorway was Gage.

How long had he been there and just how much had he heard?

“There you are. I was worried you’d run away.”

“Why would you think that?”

The line of his jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he crossed the small space, taking up more real estate than any one human had a right to. He crowded into her personal space. Why hadn’t she worn her higher heels? At least then she’d have been able to look him straight in the eye.

Now she had to crane her head backward to peer up at him. It galled her, even that small yielding gesture.

“Everyone is waiting to see us dance together.”

“Why? This isn’t our wedding.”

Gage chuckled deep in his throat. The sound drizzled down her spine like warm honey. “Not sure about your dad, but my mama is already addressing invitations in her head.”

“That’s her problem.”

A sound of agreement rumbled through his chest. “Coward.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He leaned forward until he was looking her straight in the eye, pinning her in place with that intensity again. “Hiding out in the kitchen.”

Hope took a deep breath and said evenly, “I’m talking to my friend.” Turning, she looked for Jenna, who was nowhere to be found. When had she disappeared? Where the heck had she gone?

“Uh-huh.” The sharp edge of disbelief bled all over the sound. “That’s what you’ve been doing back here for almost twenty minutes.”

“I didn’t realize I was being timed,” Hope muttered.

“If you say so,” he said. With a quick shrug of those massive shoulders and a deprecating lift to the corner of his lips, he slipped back out the door.

Oh, no, he did not. Hope’s palm stung where she slapped it against the door.

Gage was twenty feet away when she shot back into the room. Several people turned to stare, but not him. Anger and resolve spurred her to grasp his arm and pull him to a stop.

“I’m no coward, Gage Harper, and never have been.” She went against him, toe-to-toe, rising up so she could get right in his face.

Heat and temptation roiled through his eyes, but that damn smile tugged at his mouth again. His arm snaked around her, a solid weight that bowed her back and pressed her body against his.

Out of nowhere he spun her. A small space opened around them, getting bigger as several couples cleared to the sides of the dance floor. Gage moved her effortlessly to the beat of the dramatic music pumping from the speakers around the room. Later tonight the mood of the party would change and current dance music would play, but for now the DJ was playing dreamy pieces that made her entire body throb with the possibilities.

Gage’s thighs rubbed against hers. His fingers splayed low on her back, molding to her spine. Her cheek brushed against the curve of his shoulder. She could feel the dark heat seeping from him.

Her gaze strayed to the warm column of his throat. It was so close she could have reached out and run her tongue across the strong cord of muscle there. Would his skin be rough with stubble or smooth and just shaven?

What the hell was wrong with her?

He pulled her closer. “Why did you put your name in?” His breath stirred wayward strands of hair, tickling her cheeks and temple.

Awareness crackled across her skin. She tried to pull away from him, to put some space between them so that she could think, but he wouldn’t let her. Like one of those Chinese finger traps, the more she struggled the tighter he held.

To Hope’s relief, the eyes that had been watching them seemed to get bored and move on to more interesting action. “Why not? It’s fun, it’s for charity and I haven’t had time for a date in months.”

“Lexi said you haven’t participated for several years.”

“Did she also tell you that’s because I was dating someone?” Maybe not seriously. Okay, she’d never dated anyone seriously. In college she didn’t have the time. She’d had some scholarship money, but not enough to cover room and board. She’d worked off-campus, carried a full load and been on the school newspaper staff. As it was, graduating had taken her five years instead of four. Who had time for guys?

Then her father had gotten sick and she’d moved home. Taking care of him and keeping the paper running was all she’d had the energy to handle.

“No, she didn’t mention that.”

It was Hope’s turn to let a satisfied smile curl her lips.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stay there long.

Gage dropped his head into the curve of her neck. The warmth of his breath caressed her. Goose bumps cascaded down her shoulder.

The music stopped. So did they. Standing in the middle of the crowded floor, surrounded by people, she didn’t notice a single one of them.

He stared down at her, his golden eyes glowing with blatant desire. She could feel the heat of him radiating through her. His skin, kissed from the desert sun, was a warm, rich brown.

If he’d looked at her like that twelve years ago would she have been able to resist him? Hope didn’t think so. She’d fought her own fledgling, teenage craving for him, scared that if she gave in to it their friendship would be ruined.

He’d asked her out hundreds of times, but only as a joke. Or so she’d thought. And even if her hormones told her it was real, her head had always chastised her for indulging the fantasy. Gage had a new girl every weekend. He hadn’t needed her. He didn’t want her.

Then he’d told her he did, but in the next breath sent fear racing down her spine when he’d confided that he’d enlisted. Even if she’d been brave enough to risk their friendship, she couldn’t risk caring about him only to lose him.

So she’d pushed him away. Severed all ties. And missed having her best friend in her life.

Hope swallowed, her throat so dry she couldn’t have said anything even if her brain could come up with a coherent thought. Her entire body was on overload. Slowly, Gage extricated himself from their embrace and set her away.

Without a word he slipped into the crowd. She watched him go. If she wanted that story, she should stop him. But she didn’t move after him. She couldn’t, not if she hoped to keep her head and her focus. Maybe he was right, after all, and she really was a coward.

On shaky legs, Hope found her way back to the table and sank onto her chair.

“Well, hell, maybe I should have made a play for him.”

Beside her, Tatum frowned into the dregs of the amaretto sour she’d sampled earlier.

“What?” Hope asked, trying to clear the buzz that dancing with Gage had left inside her brain.

Tatum gestured with the glass, a heavy drop of condensation dripping off the bottom and spreading unevenly across the deep red tablecloth. “Gage. You. Steaming up the dance floor. If I’d known he was that combustible I might have broken some personal rules and made a play for him.”

Hope stared at her friend. For about sixty seconds she contemplated offering Gage to her. She had at least six more days of this. How was she supposed to get through it without landing herself in serious trouble?

Gage was right when he said she’d been lying to herself about the past. She
had
been interested in him. Of course she’d wondered what it would be like if they were more than friends. If he hadn’t been joking all the times he asked her out. What girl wouldn’t have been drawn to Gage’s good looks, commanding presence and that edge of danger?

But the moment he joined the army she’d been out.

Losing her mother had devastated her. She’d been so young and so unequipped to deal with the sudden loss. Her dad had been there for her, but it wasn’t the same. Not even he could fill the void. Gage had been there, as well, always knowing just what she’d needed to combat the ever present grief.

Which honestly made it all the worse. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t love Gage and lose him. Maybe if he’d been different... But he wasn’t. That streak of recklessness had scared the shit out of her. Gage was unpredictable. Brash and foolhardy. Daring and brave.

Now was no different. He was still the same man who embraced danger as if it were a long lost friend. Her resolve hardened. She had a week to get her story and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way—especially not some long dormant physical reaction that she never wanted.

* * *

“
M
AN
,
SERIOUSLY
, you have to come save me.” Gage stared out the window of his childhood room at the full moon bright in the sky. The drink he’d barely touched was clutched in one fist; the other held his cell against his ear.

“It can’t be that bad,” Eli Weston countered. “You’re a goddamn war hero. What the hell can they be doing to you?”

He sprawled back into the deep pocket of his mama’s wingback chair. He’d probably catch hell for hauling the thing upstairs, but there wasn’t a lick of furniture in the room big enough to fit him comfortably. He didn’t remember being particularly scrawny as a kid, but the wooden chair tucked under the desk creaked ominously every time he tried to sit in it.

“You mean aside from smothering me, hounding me or staring at me with pity?”

“Let me call the sheriff,” Eli drawled sarcastically. “That definitely qualifies as torture.”

“Bite me.”

“Naw.”

This was exactly what Gage had needed, a conversation with someone who wouldn’t tiptoe around him or flinch at accidentally using the word
torture
in conversation.

He needed a distraction. One that didn’t smell good, feel amazing in his arms and go by the name Hope.

He, Eli and Micah had met in jump school. Even though they’d been assigned to different battalions, they’d remained close. They’d bonded, and nothing, not even Micah’s death or his own screwup, could break that.

“The media is killing me. They’re swarming all over town.”

“You know if you’d just give them the interview they’d leave you alone.”

“I can’t do that.” Guilt—both for what had happened and for not confiding in his friend—had him gulping down the finger of Scotch sloshing in the bottom of his glass. It was the only one he’d allow himself tonight. He’d seen too many guys try to drown the horrors of war with alcohol and it never ended well. He’d be damned if he’d take the easy way out.

“Your choice, man, but then you’re gonna have to suck it up and deal.”

Yeah, he knew Eli was right. He sighed heavily into the phone. That didn’t make it any more of a picnic.