Due to his tender age, Chester had needed lots of care, but at least now he was healthy again. During all the weeks he’d spent at the vet clinic, Jasmine hadn’t been able to forget him. She’d stopped by as often as she could, even paid all his medical expenses. When the day came that he could either be transferred to the nearest animal shelter or come home with her, the decision had already been made. Chester was hers; she’d even named him.
The little guy was a happy puppy, always wagging his stump of a tail when she came home. Her neighbor—a very old and very nice lady—took him for walks after lunch when Jasmine was at work. Mrs. Johnson didn’t want money for the dog-walking, claimed she needed the exercise as much as Chester did. Most likely her inner energy kept her going, considering she’d turned ninety-one the week before.
Apart from Chester’s missing ear, it was clear that he came from a beautifully bred line of French bulldogs; he was a powerful little dog. He was six months old and already pretty muscular for his age. Because Jasmine was a perfectionist, her dog already knew lots of tricks. Of course, it had helped that Chester loved to learn new things; he always was eager to please. They fit perfectly. Sometimes Jasmine wondered if he remembered she’d found him all those months ago, if that was the reason for his eagerness. She hoped she was wrong and he didn’t remember—it had been a scary, painful time for him. He was better off not recalling every detail.
“Hey, buddy!” With a cheerful voice, she greeted him—one look at his cute little face made her forget everything else. To greet him close to eye level, she crouched down in front of him. Stroking little Chester behind his one ear, she gently talked to him. As always, his eyes began to close—he would never have enough of cuddling. Chuckling, Jasmine rose to her feet again. There was so much to be done before their departure tomorrow. Naturally, she would take Chester with her. If Cole didn’t like it then he could replace her with David any time he wanted.
“Come on, buddy, we need to get our stuff.” Huffing in an excited manner, he ran after her into the bedroom. While Jasmine began packing, Chester sat down next to the door, watching her every move as if checking that she wouldn’t forget anything. “You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?” Over her shoulder, she glanced at him. Still sitting, he tried to wag his tail, which was naturally very short for French bulldogs, not cropped. That’s why they mostly wiggled their butts instead of wagging their tails. It resulted in Chester skidding his behind over the floor from one side to the other. It was funny to watch; he really was way too cute.
“You’re a sweetheart, you know that? Always making me laugh.” Chester agreed, answering Jasmine by barking once. It was still a very high-pitched puppy bark, which made him even cuter. No wonder she had kept him. What monster could withstand puppy eyes, right?
A few hours later, everything was ready for their departure in the morning, and there was only one thing left to do: study the blueprints and the photos of Cole’s mansion. Tomorrow the work would begin!
♥♥♥
Chapter 4
WHERE DID HE know her from? Cole still hadn’t figured it out. It bugged him since he was certain he’d seen that angelic face some time in his life before. And the colors on her! Only, he remembered her as even more colorful? Unsure, he kept pacing up and down in front of the window in his study.
The past few years, he’d lived solely for his tech firm, had buried himself in work after…no, he refused to think about it. He never ever wanted to think about that again. Back then he’d given himself one week. God, those seven days he’d drunk so much, he only remembered little shreds of it. That was good, though, because it had been the darkest time in his life. Never would there be a darker hour.
First, he’d drunk away his sorrow, then he’d lost himself in work. Over the years, he’d met many, many people. He had never really looked at their faces, though, because they just didn’t matter to him. Since that one night so many years ago, he didn’t care anymore—not for anything or anyone. His life was divided into two parts: before and after.
Before measured thirty-three years, after only five. Before had been a bright, happy time, full of laughter and sunshine, but the memories were too painful to let them cross his mind. After didn’t contain anything important to him. Yes, his corporation meant a billion-dollar income, but for Cole it was only something to do, something to take his mind off what had happened years ago. He would throw everything away if only he could go back in time and change the past. Anything. For that, he would do anything at all!
Only, the past could never be changed. In one simple night, he’d become hard and cold. During the after time he hadn’t really lived, only gone through the motions. No wonder he couldn’t pinpoint Jasmine Frost’s face. Probably she’d worked for one of his many associates and they’d met in a hallway or something. Cole couldn’t remember; it was all distorted in his mind. The last five years he hadn’t really lived, just existed.
When he had first seen her, he’d felt like he’d awakened after an endless sleep. Jasmine Frost had brought color back into his gray world. In fact, she’d done the impossible. Cole hadn’t thought that anything or anyone could ever make a difference in his life again. But she had. Everything had changed; his feelings had been and still were all over the place. After feeling nothing for so long, he wasn’t quite able to control himself. Yeah, that had been pretty obvious, seeing his behavior, or more so lack of behavior, in that elevator.
The only problem? Jasmine didn’t only bring color, no, she’d made every fucking memory come crashing back down on him. Not thinking about the past didn’t work anymore. The door, which he’d closed on his memories, had been ripped open. Now he couldn’t shut it anymore. She needed to fix that…him.
Still pacing, Cole raked a hand through his hair. All night he’d hardly gotten any sleep, had been way too unsettled to close his eyes. There was guilt and want, grief and hope, sadness and happiness all mixed together, rattling and shaking him to his core. For the thousandth time, he glanced through the window onto the long driveway to his home. Still no car, still no Jasmine. Where was she? He was a mess, couldn’t wait to see her face again. How would it feel this time? Would the gray come back into his world and eat everything away until there was nothing left, or would Jasmine awaken him once more with all her bright colors?
Cole wasn’t sure if he should wish for or fear the latter.
When he looked out of the window again, his heart stopped for a second. A car was driving up to his house. Of course, it was a bright yellow Mini Cooper. The sun was coming back to him.
♥♥♥
TRAILING DOWN THE long driveway to Cole’s mansion, Jasmine’s excitement only grew. Naturally, little Chester could feel it, so he couldn’t keep still in his crate. The two-hour drive had wrecked her nerves. By now Jasmine only wanted to leave the damn car and breathe again. Thankfully, they had arrived at their destination.
After stopping her Mini Cooper in front of the giant white building, she shifted to park and turned off the motor. Through the windshield, she looked up at the front of the house. It was built in the Victorian style, which was really pretty. In fact, Jasmine had a thing for old houses. At her job, she designed modern skyscrapers with lots of mirroring glass and such, but mansions like Cole’s had their own charm.
Nervously opening the driver’s door and stepping onto the gravel outside, she turned her attention from the house to the back seat of her car, where Chester’s crate was secured. After having taken the pup out of the car and putting a leash on him, she let him do his business in a nearby flower bed. Only then did the two of them make their way to the front door. She rang the doorbell, waiting for Cole to open up. Seconds later, the giant wooden door was almost ripped off its hinges when the behemoth of a man answered his door.
“Don’t damage the house even more—we’re supposed to renovate, not wreck it.” Like the day before, Jasmine had absolutely no control when speaking to him. Immediately, she pressed a hand over her lips. Oops. Well, it was
out now, no way to take it back.
At her words, he just stared. There was that grim expression again; otherwise there was no other emotion on his face. “What’s that?” His tone was disgusted as his stare lowered to the beautiful French bulldog puppy, which Jasmine held firmly in her arms because she’d helped Chester with the veranda steps. In reaction, she actually growled at Cole.
“That’s Chester. Since Mr. Hall and you didn’t give me a chance to say anything about me living here, you’ll have to deal with him being here. If you don’t want any pets, you surely can talk to David again.” Sweetly she smiled at him—yeah, it was totally fake and he knew it. Before Jasmine could turn on her heels, Cole grunted something unrecognizable.
“What?” she asked.
“That’s no dog. It’s a rat.” It wasn’t uncommon that men preferred bigger dogs, but Chester still wasn’t a rat and Cole wasn’t allowed to insult him.
“So that must be the reason I found him in a dumpster!” she snapped cynically. Without looking at Cole again, she pushed past him, entering the house. From the corner of her eyes, she saw something flicker through his irises. Did he have feelings after all? The thought of someone throwing a puppy into a dumpster might have actually angered him. Wow. The cold bastard had a sweet spot for animals. Who would have thought?
“Now, do you want to keep insulting my dog—and yes, I will totally insult you back on Chester’s behalf—or do you want to get down to business?” While Jasmine puffed her chest, the little dog in her arms became all twitchy, so she let him down. Immediately Chester ran to Cole to sniff his feet. To Jasmine’s total bafflement, the little puppy sat down right in front of the giant man, staring up at him in wonderment. Perhaps Chester asked himself, What on earth was wrong with that guy? Welcome to the club, buddy, Jasmine thought sarcastically.
“Go away. I don’t want to step on you.” Deep rumbles left Cole’s chest, and she wanted to shake him. How could he not like Chester? Was he heartless?
“How can you look at puppy eyes and not be affected?” Helplessly Jasmine threw her arms in the air. She couldn’t believe this man. Really, Cole must be made of ice. Had he not been all hot in the elevator yesterday, that would be an absolutely logical explanation. Humph.
“I’ll give you a tour of the house,” was Cole’s only reaction. Of course, she didn’t affect or faze him at all. The day before, he hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when she’d snapped at him. A strange man he was.
“Great,” Jasmine grumbled out. On cue she looked around, now consciously taking in her surroundings. There was a great hall in front of her, which seemed perfect for balls and elegant dresses. Like on the blueprints, half-rounded staircases led up to the next floor on each side of the hall. Only the blueprints could have never shown Jasmine the beautifully handcrafted railings. Silently she followed Cole into the next room, the living area. With a shocked gasp, Jasmine halted abruptly.
“What happened here?” Whereas the hall had been ghostly empty, no plants, no pictures on the walls, no nothing, the living room was a mess. Everything had been destroyed as if someone had happily swung a sledgehammer around. But…were these impressions of fists in the walls? Had someone done this with their bare hands? God, what fury must have possessed that person, what utter rage.
“Who did this?” Quickly she turned her head in Cole’s direction, but for the very first time, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“I don’t live here,” he simply said. “And that’s why the mansion needs renovation.”
“Renovation is the understatement of the century, big guy.” Shaking her head, she couldn’t do anything but gape at all the wreckage at her feet. Why wouldn’t Cole tell her who’d done it? Perhaps some teenagers and he didn’t want them to get a rap sheet because of something stupid like that? Was he even nice enough for that?
Every single piece of furniture was broken, lying scattered on the floor. With widened eyes, she took all of it in. His voice made her jump slightly.
“Let’s take a look at the rest of the house, shall we.” Even though it was put as a question, it didn’t sound like one. When Cole just walked into the next room—the next mess—it was clear that it had been a demand. Oh, he was already annoying her so much! How was she supposed to live with him for weeks? And after having seen the damage, they probably were talking about months, not weeks. Damn.
Slowly they checked room after room; everything in them was destroyed. One door he left firmly closed. Nonetheless, she didn’t think much about it; she was too confused to care when they reached the second floor. Jasmine was almost shocked to see no damage there. Everything was normal. Even more so, it seemed untouched, like no one had lived here. There were no dents in the floor from kids playing too hard, no smudges on the walls…no proof of life. Still, when they entered the office and master bedroom, it became clear that Cole actually did live here. Before he must have meant that he didn’t use the first floor.
A heavy feeling of sadness gripped her chest. He was like a beast locked away in his castle. Lonely. The scary part was, though, that unlike the old story, Cole had chosen this lifestyle; there hadn’t been any evil witch to force this fate upon him. Why would anyone choose to live in total isolation? Even Chester seemed confused. Apparently, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to run down the hall and investigate everything or stay close, at the side of the humans. The entire time, he turned around, looking up at either Cole or Jasmine as if checking if they were okay.
“You’re a sweet little man,” Jasmine automatically said in her gentlest voice, which was reserved for the French bulldog alone.
“What?” Cole stopped dead in his tracks. At his bewildered stare, Jasmine cracked up laughing.
“I was talking to Chester, not you, silly!” Still giggling, she patted Cole’s upper arm.
“You call him little man?” He swallowed hard, again something dark and dangerous flickered through his eyes. “You can’t,” he simply ordered.
Immediately Jasmine’s humor was gone. Dropping her hand from his arm, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I call my sweet little man however I fucking want to.” With her index finger, she pushed into Cole’s chest. “You could have worked with David; you wanted me. I’m a package deal. I have a pet—oh my, what a disaster!” Her last words were uttered in total irony. Even a coldhearted man like Cole had to get the true meaning of them. For good measure, Jasmine rolled her eyes at him. “Now show me the rest of the house or I’ll find a stupid pet name for you, too!”
He even had the nerve to ask, “Like what?”
“What about asshole?” Angrily she again pushed her index finger into his chest. It wasn’t very satisfactory, though, because he didn’t flinch.
“Not very creative,” was his calm answer. The nerve!
“I think, at the end of us working together, I might just rip your head off.” Fighting for control, Jasmine used her sweetest voice. Yep, she probably sounded like some psycho serial killer. Who cares? Apparently, Cole didn’t because he turned toward her. Something in his gaze took her captive with a dark force, which was incomprehensible to her.
“Or…” Cole stepped into her space, “…you’ll scream my name, while I bury myself deep inside of you. Wouldn’t that be more fun?” At his words, something hot settled in her belly, while Cole only stepped closer until her back hit the wall. How did he do that? Make her body go from cold to hot within the blink of an eye? Okay, perhaps they had chemistry, but that didn’t mean she had to do anything about it.
Resolved, Jasmine raised her chin, staring back into his eyes in defiance. Apart from darkness, there was nothing else there. “You don’t even want me,” she accused. “You just want to intimidate me.” Most likely it gave him some sick kind of satisfaction. “Also, that is not very professional.”
“And you’re so professional?” he scoffed, pressing his broad, muscular body against hers. Despite herself, a sigh left her lips. But damn, did he feel good. With only their fronts touching through the layers of th
eir clothes, her body went up in flames.
“You can snap at me all you like, but I’ll have you in my bed. That’s a fact.” On her neck she felt each of his breaths; he’d come far too close. Now was the time when she should go, perhaps even sue him for sexual harassment or something, but all Jasmine could think about was proving him wrong. Yes, she was strange like that. She did want him, too—he wasn’t completely wrong about that, but she would never give in to such a cold, heartless man.
Before she could tell him to back off, his mouth descended on hers. She’d just opened her lips to say something. Like a pro, he’d used the opportunity. Boldly his tongue toyed with hers, only satisfied when he got her to play with him. His kiss was dominating, addicting, and seductive. It was like trying to fight a flood wave—not possible. With another sigh, she sank back against the wall. That was when he took total control, pressing his body so closely against hers that not even a sheet of paper would have fit between them. She felt his long hardness against her stomach, and shivers ran down her spine. When her heart began to race, he finally slowed down their kiss by biting her lower lip.
Shocked at her powerful reaction, Jasmine blinked up at him, his face still only inches from hers.
“Now let’s end the tour of the house.” The words were whispered against her lips, his voice deep, perhaps even darker from lust. Jasmine needed a moment to realize what Cole had actually said. Seconds later he stepped back, suddenly as expressionless as before. Had she not felt his throbbing erection against her body, she would have thought he was totally unaffected. Well, from this moment on he could hide behind that emotionless mask of his all he wanted, but Jasmine knew now that there was much, much more to Cole Ward than she’d initially thought. She just needed to tickle the emotions, which he kept hidden, out of him.
Good Grief Page 3
