by Sabrina York
God, would his Delta buddies give him shit if they heard of this mission. It was worse than any he had been assigned by Uncle Sam, including infiltrating Iran’s nuclear plants.
His phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, he swallowed his favorite four-letter word. Mother Earth was messing with him big-time today.
“Just saw you, dude,” Gabe grumbled into the phone. “Miss me already?”
“No, jackass. Saw the weather canceled all flights to Winthrop. Wanted to see if you needed a place to crash,” Aiden Foster’s deep bass voice bellowed over the line. “You can head up with us on Thursday. I owe you after your help with the little problem in Vegas.”
Only a fellow operator would call taking down a tech billionaire sociopath trying to sell security codes to military drones a “little problem.”
“I can’t. I’m in charge of transporting the wedding gown.” Gabe waited for his friend’s LMFAO. And, as expected, the loud hoot followed. He moved the phone away from his ear.
Gabe had commiserated with Aiden during their downtime in Vegas about the complications of his older brother’s upcoming wedding. Aiden was planning his own wedding to Jordan Dean, daughter of one of the richest men on the planet, and strange as it seemed for the silent operator, Aiden had a handle on the intricacies of wedding planning, which baffled Gabe, a confirmed bachelor, now more than ever. His last mission left him wondering if he could ever return to civilian life.
“Not sure why elite spec forces have been charged with procuring the wedding dress. It seems like poor use of resources and overkill. Unless the dress is a state secret?”
“Man, I don’t know if it’s a secret. My brother asked me to help.”
“I thought your goal was to talk your brother out of marrying the woman?”
Gabe had given Aiden all the details of what a social-climbing B the bride-to-be was. An insufferable woman that Gabe had dated for five weeks in college before she decided Tyler Brown had bigger connections on campus. And now Tiffany Turner was engaged to marry his brother, who incidentally was about to step into the role of CEO of their father’s million-dollar company. Their Nebraskan farmer father had built a global company developing genetically modified strains of corn and soybean for the world market.
“Haven’t had a chance to have the sit-down yet with Gavin. Hard to discuss on the phone. I started but he shut me down.” His mother, wanting alliteration, had given all four brothers and one sister names beginning with G.
“We can fly the dress out on Dean’s jet. Jordan and I are flying over on Friday for the rehearsal with plenty of time to spare. Come stay with us.”
Jordan Dean had gone to the same Swiss private boarding school as Tiffany. Though they hadn’t much in common—Jordan was all about science and Tiffany was all about clothes—they’d remained connected on social media. Tiffany would never do anything to ruin a relationship with a Dean daughter. And even though Jordan hadn’t said it, they’d accepted because of Gabe’s connection to Aiden. Gabe and Aiden were brothers in the things that mattered.
“Thanks for the offer. But I’m at Sea-Tac to pick up Tiffany’s half sister and the dress. Lauren, the designer, is bringing the dress from New York. I can’t believe my brother is buying into all this bullshit. The dress has its own first-class seat.”
“No wonder you’re single. It’s not buying into bullshit. It’s doing anything to make your woman happy.”
Gabe took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “I’m checking my connection. Is this Aiden Foster . . . the Aiden Foster who used to tear the sheets up in every country we were stationed?”
“Hey, asshole, talk like that and your invite is rescinded. I don’t want Jordan to hear trash talk.”
“You tell her you were a monk or something?” Now it was Gabe’s turn to enjoy getting Aiden’s skivvies in a knot.
“No, but she doesn’t need any reminders of what a bastard I was.”
“Relax, dude. I’d never hurt Jordan’s feelings. She’s a sweetheart. Not sure what she sees in you, but…”
“Why can’t the half sister go ahead with the dress on her own?”
Gabe recognized misdirection. Gabe flashed on a memory of Tiffany’s younger sister— tall, thin, with big green eyes and blond hair, and very quiet when around Tiffany. But then no one got to talk when Tiffany was holding court.
“It’s more of a courtesy kind of thing. I guess it’s bulky and she has a lot of luggage. My brother asked since we’re both on the same fight out of here.”
“What are you going to do now that your flight is canceled? Will you drive? You’ll need four-wheel drive to get over the mountain passes. The roads will be treacherous.”
“Man, what have you done with my kickass buddy? This wedding stuff is making you soft. Driving in a heated SUV versus on horseback over mountain passes without being shot at by the Taliban sounds like a slam dunk.”
“But, smart ass, you’ve never been in charge of a wedding dress.” Aiden chuckled and then in low rumble said, “Later.”
Gabe stuck his phone into his pocket and walked toward the main terminal. He needed a rental car, a haircut, and a shave in that order. Since he had at least two hours, he had time for mission prep. And plenty of time to think of a way to sabotage his brother’s wedding.
Lauren Harrison steadied herself with a hand on the overhead bin before reaching for her bags.
“Allow me.” Roger Thornaby, software company CEO, lifted the largest of her two bags. His perfectly fitted Ermenegildo Zegna jacket moved smoothly and seamlessly, reflecting the fine wool and the quality of workmanship in the three-thousand-dollar jacket. A waft of Creed’s Green Irish Tweed cologne hung around her, making it hard not to gag. Normally she loved the scent, but right now, chocolate would turn her stomach.
“I can help you get all of this”—he gestured with a perfectly manicured hand at the garment bag on the next seat and the two large bags— “to your next flight. I’m in no rush to get to my hotel. You’ve a lot to carry. And you’re looking a bit shaky.”
“Shaky” was a polite way of saying she was two sheets to the wind. She’d had one glass of champagne during the six-plus hour flight, but it might as well have been a magnum.
With no time to eat or sleep, she was running on empty. The last few days had been exhausting as she and her assistant pressed to finish the entire trousseau, pack, and FedEx the thirty boxes to her half sister.
The champagne went straight to her head, or rather her mouth, as she poured out to trapped Roger every dirty detail of bridezilla’s wedding and Lauren’s challenging family. If a conglomerate of two self-absorbed parents who thrived on high drama could be called a family.
She had two half sisters and three stepmothers as the result of her father’s need to upgrade his wife every five years or so. Her mother was behind in the race with only two husbands after her marriage to Lauren’s father, providing Lauren two stepfathers and two half brothers, totaling twelve relatives of sorts. Not including the stepsiblings she’d lost contact with, none of whom she felt close to and none of whom she would choose to spend her Christmas with, especially her older half sister, Tiffany, the bride from hell.
“Thanks. I appreciate the help, but I have someone meeting me.” And there was the real reason that sympathetic Roger Thornaby, with perfect manners and a perfect urbane style, didn’t stand a chance—Gabe Griffin.
Roger was the sort of man she usually gravitated toward because he represented no threat. She had only known one man who would be a risk to her sanity, one who could make her behave like her insane parents. So she avoided him at all costs.
Maybe it wasn’t exhaustion that had her gulping the champagne, but simply the idea of seeing Gabe Griffin after seven years.
The high school crush she still fantasized about. How ridiculous was that? She was a grown woman who’d had several serious relationships. But Gabe Griffin was a young girl’s romantic fantasy. Every girl deserved a fantasy. Now that she was a success
ful grown woman woman, she’d probably find him boring.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Roger gave way to allow her to get off first.
Another reason to like Roger. He was a gentleman.
“Thank you for listening… especially about the upcoming wedding… and my… family. I’m not a big drinker and the champagne hit me hard. You were a very generous listener.”
“No need to apologize.” Roger walked next to her on the freezing jetway. “We all have families. And your business is fascinating. I respect your entrepreneurial spirit. If you ever just want to get a drink…”
Lauren laughed. “You’re a brave man after witnessing the effects one glass of champagne has on me.”
“I meant it. I enjoyed talking with you, and if you’re ever not involved…”
“It isn’t like that. He’s just a friend.” God, why was she explaining? Because she felt like she owed Roger after making him listen to the entire soap opera. She could guarantee the next days would be better than any reality show and Tiffany hadn’t even warmed up. And once her father, another drama queen, arrived, there would be nonstop performances of the worst kind.
“He isn’t?”
She shivered in her stylish but unfunctional outfit. The lime-green wool dress and matching coat were a statement. She knew about making fashion statements; not so much about navigating men like Gabe Griffin—only avoiding them.
It wasn’t Gabe’s chiseled chin, his broad shoulders, or his bedroom eyes that promised endless nights. Not that she held any of his hotness against him. She’d worked with male models who were as perfect as Gabe. It was the rare quality that he didn’t need to be the center of attention—unlike her father and all the men she dated or worked with. She was very aware of her “daddy issues.” Who wouldn’t be if their father was a famous actor fully accustomed to being adored, leaving no time or capacity for anyone else in his life?
She picked up the pace to get out of the enclosed jetway.
“So when you’re back in New York, you’ll answer my calls?”
She paused at the exit, placing her hand on Roger’s arm. “Let me get through the holidays.”
“You’ll need to be pampered after what you’ve described. I know exactly how to pamper you.” His voice lowered in a seductive tone.
Heat was moving up to her face. Damn her fair skin.
“Hey, Lauren. Looks like you might need a hand.”
Gabe Griffin.
Caught off guard, unprepared to come face-to-face with Gabe at her gate and with no time to compose herself, she was thrown back in time. The geeky high school junior again meeting Tiffany’s college boyfriend. She felt gawky—too tall, too blond, too everything over again. What happened to the sophisticated and successful fashion designer?
The sudden flush in her face warmed her. More likely, by the way the burn moved across her chest and up her neck, she was turning the vivid shade of Dior’s Darling lipstick.
“Hi, Gabe.” She leveled her voice, the take-no-prisoners one she used with difficult vendors, but the visceral reaction was the same as if she were meeting him for the first time. His sandy brown hair was longer and hung over his forehead, and he had a beard, emphasizing his sharp angles and full lower lip.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
“No biggie. We’re going to be family.” Gabe gave a crooked grin.
Well, that put the kibosh on Lauren’s fantasies in one quick sweep. Talk about hammering home that he still saw her as a younger sister.
“Gabe, this is Roger Thornaby, who obviously has been a great help.” Lauren reached for the bags, but Gabe was quicker, taking them out of Roger’s hands.
“Good luck with the wedding, Lauren.” Roger ignored Gabe. “I’m sure your designs will wow everyone.”
“You’re too kind.” Tiffany’s repertoire didn’t include being impressed by anyone else. Her only wow reaction would be Wow, how could you?
“Thanks again.” Lauren smiled at Roger.
Lauren, with all her groomed social skills, didn’t know what to say to end the awkward silence. Gabe glared at Roger and didn’t move away.
“I’ll call you, Lauren.” And with that Roger walked away. Another point for Roger; he knew when to walk. But that meant she’d have to face Gabe. Gulp.
2
The sight of Lauren Harrison walking down the jetway was a sucker punch to his gut, a stunning beauty who had him riveted in place. She looked like a model from the magazine covers on display at the kiosks he’d just passed. She wore a bright-green fitted coat, and her glossy blond hair was twisted in a knot, emphasizing her delicate neck.
With Lauren unaware of his perusal, Gabe had time to take in her long, slim legs and her easy glide in high heels. She exuded sophistication—cool, untouchable—until she laughed. The sound was light and lyrical, and her full red lips lifted, making it impossible for him to look away.
The Wall Street-looking dude walking next to her looked at her as if she’d discovered the cure for cancer. By the way his shoulders and hips were angled toward Lauren, he was trying to get as close as possible. It was unclear if Lauren reciprocated. She was laughing and smiling, but her body language wasn’t open to the man. His training as an operator included CIA analysis of human behavior. Being another male played no part in reading the guy’s intentions as man on the make.
For no clear reason, he already didn’t like this dude, who seemed to feel the same way about Gabe when Lauren introduced them.
Gabe grabbed the bags out of Roger’s hands, wanting to minimize the time Lauren smiled at him.
Gabe gave Roger credit since he read Gabe’s male-speak message of “get lost.” Why he was behaving like an ass was beyond him. He barely knew Lauren. And hell, he was just doing his brother a favor.
“We should get to our gate. With the delay, we’re cutting it close. Is it far?” Lauren started walking.
“Our flight was canceled.”
She twisted fast, pivoting on her heels. “It can’t be. I have to get this dress to Tiffany. I promised.”
“What’s the rush? The wedding isn’t for two days.”
“I have to charter a flight.” She was already walking away, unaware that she was headed in the wrong direction.
He dodged a few distracted cell phone users to catch her. How could she move so fast in those stilts?
“Lauren,” he yelled after her. “The flight is canceled because of weather.”
She stopped and looked directly into his eyes.
For a minute, he lost track of the conversation. She had the brightest green eyes, the color of the Nebraska fields of spring wheat.
“What kind of weather? It’s raining outside.” She nodded toward the long windows being pelted with rain.
“On this side of the mountains, it rains, but in the eastern part of the state, it’s a different climate and it snows. Winthrop is getting hit with a blizzard.”
She dug into her satchel purse and pulled out her phone. She typed furiously and fast.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, I’m going to rent a car. I can still drive there, right?”
“You’re going to drive?” He had to admire her tenacity. “Do you know how to drive in a blizzard?”
She kept typing, ignoring his questions.
“What’s your damn rush?” Now he was getting irritated. He already had it all taken care of if she’d give him a minute.
“I live in New York. I can drive in a blizzard.”
She lifted her chin, and he was riveted by the pulsing of her throat and the fantasy of kissing his way along the soft, pale skin.
“New York doesn’t have mountains. You need to have a four-wheel drive and probably chains to get over mountain passes.”
“I have to drive over mountain passes?” She stopped typing.
“Didn’t you look at the pictures of the High Mountain Lodge? It sits on a…high mountain…in the middle of mountains.”
“I was too busy lookin
g at the interior. Inspecting the windows and lighting and evaluating how the light would affect the shade of white and the choice of red for the bridesmaid’s dresses.”
Gabe inched closer to avoid the crowd moving around them. “And you didn’t notice that the windows look out toward the mountains?”
Her lower lip lifted and there was amusement in her voice. “The mountains weren’t a priority. Besides, Tiffany renamed the lodge Mistletoe Lodge for her wedding, so I never gave another thought to the mountains.” She shook her head. “I was busy incorporating the shades of red that matched mistletoe berries.”
He watched in fascination the way the light shifted in her eyes, turning them almost golden when she smiled. “What did Tiffany have to do to get them to change the name of the lodge?” He was about to say he couldn’t believe it, but knowing Tiffany, he did believe it.
“The lodge had been scheduled to be closed for some renovations, but she and my father booked all the rooms for the entire week and paid for the signage to be changed. And promised a great bonus for everyone working around the holidays. They had to agree not to use pictures of the lodge in any commercial way with the name change. It meant that the number of guests was limited to only the wedding party, and a lot of her friends had already made Christmas plans.”
Gabe couldn’t believe his brother was part of changing a resort’s name. But hell, as Aiden said, Gabe didn’t have a clue what a man was willing to do to make his bride happy.
Lauren switched the brown leather bag to her other shoulder. “Tiffany is going to have a fit that I’m not flying in before the rehearsal.”
“Tiffany will live. Trust me, she’s going to have at least five hundred more fits before the actual wedding.”
She was watching his face, trying to read him. “But you don’t care if Tiffany is upset?”
