9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Jake hesitated before replying. "Sure."

  "Excellent. Let's say nine. My office is right down that hallway." Quinton pointed to his right, toward a set of frosted glass double doors.

  "See you in the morning, Mr. Stone. Have a good night." Quinton turned and walked away as a ping sounded behind Jake, signaling the elevator's arrival. With a shrug, he walked in and pressed the button for his floor. Fingers crossed, he'd actually sleep through the night. Sleeping was something he hadn't done in a very long time.

  # # #

  Cassandra wondered if the past had finally caught up with her and she'd lost her mind. She'd lain awake all night, picturing the man from the hotel lobby over and over in her mind. With his chestnut brown hair and piercing dark blue eyes she'd recognized him instantly.

  Her Jake—the man she'd been forced to leave behind so many years ago. Older of course, the youthful fullness of his features replaced with a strong jaw line, sharp cheekbones that spoke of his distant Native American heritage, everything she'd fantasized he'd look like as they matured and grew old together. Instead in the rain-drenched haze of late May, she'd left Cougar Hills, Texas, never looking back.

  Well, physically never looking back, she thought. My spirit returns every single day since I left because that's where my heart stayed.

  Throwing back the covers, she climbed out of the king-sized bed. For all its luxurious trappings, it hadn't provided a wink of sleep. A few steps forward, she pulled back the heavy blackout drapes, letting the morning sunlight flood the room. She blinked at the brilliance, her eyes quickly adjusting to the light. The view outside her windows displayed a winter wonderland, its landscape inspiring awe and wonder, but this morning the view could have been desolate and bleak for all she cared. Instead all she could think of was him. Was it her imagination, just wishful thinking? Could it possibly have been Jake? What were the odds after seven years they'd end up at the same place so far away from the place she'd once called home?

  "It's not possible, it can't be."

  At the thought, icy dread filled her soul. Trembling hands snatched her robe from the chair back where she'd slung it the night before. Slamming her arms into the sleeves, she yanked open the door.

  Even though it was barely past dawn, Brad sat on one of the sofas, typing away on his laptop, a cup of steaming black coffee next to it. His fingers flew across the keyboard. Glancing up, he motioned with one hand for her to wait, returning his attention to the screen in front of him. Cassandra hugged her arms around herself, as goosebumps skittered across her skin. A faint whisper of despair tugged at her consciousness.

  "Brad."

  "One second, babe." Another couple of keystrokes and he closed the lid on the computer, looked up at her, one brow quirked.

  "Damn, girl, you look like hell. Did you get any sleep?"

  "No, I . . ." She broke off unsure of what to say. What if she was wrong, imagining things? Maybe it wasn't Jake. She flopped down onto the sofa facing him, covering her face with her hands.

  "What's wrong?" Brad sat straighter, obviously reading her distress. "Something's bothering you. Spill it."

  "Remember the guy in the lobby last night? The one I told you about when we got back here? I said he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him."

  "You remembered where you'd seen him before?"

  Cassandra laughed, the sound bitter and hollow even to her own ears. "Yeah, I lied when I said I didn't know him. I remember him. It's all I thought about the entire night. His face. His eyes." Tears welling up, she struggled to hold them back, drawing in a steadying breath. "It's Jake."

  "Jake? Your Jake?" Surprise laced Brad's words, a scowl crossing his face.

  "Yes. Sweet heavens above, Brad, how can he be here? Never mind, it doesn't matter. We have to leave. Now!" Standing, she turned toward her room, cinching the belt of her robe tighter around her waist, her only concern getting away from Destiny's Desire.

  "Whoa, slow down, Cass. Are you sure it's him? Never mind, I'll find out. Go get dressed and I'll have some answers by the time you're finished."

  Brad reached for the suite's phone, already dialing when she walked back into her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The solid surface at her back held her, supported her weight as she slumped against it. She raised shaky fingers, stabbing them through her hair as she stared around her, panic setting in. Run! Her brain screamed for her to find the quickest way out and be a puff of smoke in the wind. Stay, her heart implored. Find Jake. Tell him the truth after all these years apart. Doesn't he deserve to know the truth?

  The internal struggle warred within her. Logic or love. Either choice brought danger and death in its wake. The only decision, the only choice remained the same choice she'd made seven years ago. Leave—and keep the only man she ever loved alive.

  Chapter 4

  Jake pushed open the elegantly appointed double doors Chase had indicated the night before, ready to meet with the man and get answers.

  A slender woman with blonde hair swept up in a fancy bun sat behind a huge wooden desk, tapping away at a computer keyboard, her eyes glued to the monitor in front of her. Fingers hovering over the keys she paused, looked at him with a smile and stood.

  "Good morning, Mr. Stone. I'm Marcia, Mr. Chase's administrative assistant. He asked me to tell you he's running a few minutes late, handling a problem for one of the lodge's guests. If you'd like, you can wait in his office. It shouldn't take long."

  "Thanks, Marcia. That'll be fine." He followed her into the inner sanctum of Destiny's Desire. Quinton Chase's office. Another solid wall of glass showcased the spectacular backdrop of the mountain's snow covered pine trees. The modern-day technology surrounding most of the lodge, the ski lifts and gondolas ferrying passengers to and fro for the skiing and snowboarding available to the guests had little effect on the magnificent skyline. Instead, pristine boughs of evergreens and icy white elegance elicited a feeling of peaceful oneness with nature. Must be nice to see that view every day.

  The inside of the office was equally impressive. A natural stone fireplace sat to the left of where he entered. A crackling fire flickered and popped in the silence, adding a warmth and intimacy to the space. Gleaming natural wood paneling covered the walls, lending an air of sophistication to the natural surroundings. Giant bookcases flanked either side of the enormous mantle, dark wood shone with polish yet looked to be a natural extension of the fireplace with a rugged charm. Hundreds of books filled the shelves, not show pieces; most looked well-read and enjoyed. Jake liked that.

  The door opened behind him and Quinton Chase strode into the room, his commanding presence filling the large space. He owned the room in a way that went beyond just being the boss and owner. Power exuded from Chase's every pore. The room fit him.

  "Morning, Mr. Stone. Sorry for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

  "No, I just got here. Nice place."

  At Chase's motion, Jake sat in one of the luxurious padded chairs in front of a massive desk. Instead of walking around and sitting behind the desk, Chase surprised Jake, sitting in the chair angled next to his own.

  Nice move, trying to put me at ease. Oh yeah, he's definitely up to something.

  "What's this all about, Chase? The letter, this trip?" Jake voiced the questions softly, emotionless but determined to get answers. Chase smiled without offering any answers. A knock on the glass paned door interrupted them before Jake could press the issue. Marcia stepped into the office, her hand resting against the door frame.

  "Your breakfast is ready, sir." A brief smile accompanied her words. "I've set it up in the conference room."

  "Thanks, Marcia." Standing, he motioned for Jake to precede him. "Shall we, Mr. Stone?"

  Jake looked at Quin, assessing him. There was a depth of strength reflected in his eyes, along with a hint of darkness. There was also honesty. Jake knew he'd helped Ryan and Rose. Maybe he should give him a chance.

  "Might as well call me Jake."
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  In the conference room, Jake poured the strong black coffee into his cup, inhaling the blessed fragrance. He'd had a cup in his room earlier while he'd dressed, but it had barely taken the edge off. Most days and long nights on shift he lived on caffeine. Anybody who worked for the fire station pretty much drowned in the stuff. He made a hum of satisfaction at his first sip. Ambrosia.

  Quin chuckled as if reading his mind and poured himself a cup, taking the chair at the head of the table. Uncovering his tray, Jake noted the massive quantity of food piled high. Everything on the tray was his personal favorites; crispy bacon, eggs over easy, a stack of piping hot pancakes, fresh fruit, and buttery croissants.

  "Dig in," Quin he uncovered his own tray. A steaming bowl of oatmeal sat front and center, wisps of smoke rising off the surface. The top was layered with brown sugar, a variety of berries, and what looked like butterscotch and chocolate chips. Quin looked down at his bowl before meeting Jake's gaze. A flash of embarrassment flared in his eyes. Then he grinned.

  "I'll admit I've got a sweet tooth. The oats and berries are healthy—the sweets are my indulgence."

  Jake liked the unexpected glimpse into this man he didn't know. He watched as Quin dug in with enthusiasm, savoring each bite. His stomach rumbled. Reaching for his fork, he dug into his own breakfast. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the whole time Jake wondering why Quin had brought him to Destiny's Desire.

  Quin laid his spoon in the bottom of his empty bowl and pushed it aside. Jake did the same, finished eating.

  "How are Ryan and Rose?"

  "They're fine. Did he tell you she's pregnant?" Jake knew they'd both gotten closer to Quin since their visit to the lodge.

  "Yes." Quin answered. "Wonderful news."

  Jake couldn't wait any longer. He needed answers. The restlessness consuming him since Quin's letter kept getting worse. He couldn't settle, couldn't concentrate on anything. Even working on the house, the renovations which ate all his spare time did nothing to ease this growing, gnawing chasm building inside.

  "Why am I here?" Jake blurted out, tired of waiting. "What do you know about Cassandra? Better yet, how the hell do you know anything about her?"

  Quin smiled, leaned back in his chair, and crossed one ankle to rest atop the opposite knee before he answered.

  "I know a great many things, Jake. For instance, I know your family. More specifically, I know your grandmother. Lovely woman." That revelation threw Jake for a loop. Quinton Chase knew his grandmother? How the hell did that happen?

  "I've never heard of you. How do you know her?"

  "We met—a long time ago. We shared a few shall we call them family stories?"

  The blood drained from Jake's face. No, he couldn't know. Grandmother would never have told anyone outside the family about their history.

  "Don't worry, Stone. I've not said anything to anyone. Besides," he chuckled, "she knows where all the bodies are buried." Quin shook his head. "Trust me, I'm definitely more afraid of her than she is of me."

  Jake's mouth turned up in a grin he couldn't stop. Yep, that was his grandmother. One look from her, a long slow stare without blinking and you were putty in her hands.

  "You didn't answer the question. Why am I here? What does it have to do with Cassie?"

  "You looked for her a long time, didn't you?" Jake abruptly nodded, his lips tightly compressed. He wasn't about to spill his guts to Quinton Chase. None of his business.

  "I can help you find her." The softly spoken words echoed through the room, searing into Jake's skull.

  "What!" Jake leapt to his feet so fast his chair toppled over, crashing to the carpeted floor. He started toward Quin, ready to choke the answers from him. Quin raised one finger off his knee, where his hand rested and Jake froze.

  "Sit down." Quin's firm command compelled Jake to obey.

  Grabbing up the chair, Jake flung himself into it, his eyes shooting daggers at Quin. He'd beat the answers out of Chase if he didn't tell him where Cassie was.

  "Are you calm?"

  Jake's hands gripped the armrests of the chair, digging into the upholstered leather. He drew in a ragged breath and nodded, his thoughts only on one thing. Finding Cassie.

  "Good. I said I can help you find her." Quin leaned forward, his steely-eyed gaze boring into Jake's. "I know where she is."

  Jake slowly exhaled the breath that momentarily stuck in his chest. Hope surged anew, breathing life into wishes and dreams he'd thought long forgotten. Was it possible? After all his searching, hoping and praying, when he had finally given in to the yawning guilt in his heart—could she truly be closer than ever?

  "Where is she?" He whispered the question, sitting still as a statue, his fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, awaiting Quin's response. Dawning hope and a resurgence of anger filled him. Why did he still care so much where she was or what she did? She'd left him. Finding her again shouldn't be so . . . important. Yet unbidden, a growing sense of urgency, flashes of unexplained danger raced through his head and adrenalin shot through his blood, his heart pounding in his throat.

  Quin's silence answered him. His hooded gaze assessed him. Finally, Quin stood, stepping forward and placing his hand on Jake's shoulder.

  "She's here. At Destiny's Desire."

  Chapter 5

  Cassie slumped in the chair lift next to Brad as it chugged its way up the mountainside toward the top. She didn't want to go skiing, she needed to leave. Even with Brad's assurance, things still felt off-kilter. She wasn't psychic, not even a little bit, but a sense of impending disaster coursed through her veins. Seeing Jake last night brought everything flooding back. Horrid memories of a time she didn't need or want to remember.

  "Cass, relax. Everything is going to be fine, I promise." Brad squeezed her hand and she yanked it free, crossing her arms with a huffing sound. Brad laughed.

  "Don't pout, babe."

  "I'm not pouting, you jackass." She glared at him, contemplating how he'd look laying hundreds of feet below on the snowy ground.

  "We need to get out of here today, not climb this stupid mountain in a chair to ski. Skiing! Are you out of your mind?"

  "Don't worry, it’s all being taken care of. Trust me, Quin knows what he's doing. He said he'd handle Jake, so let it go and relax." He gestured, his arm outstretched. "It's gorgeous here. The conditions are perfect, fresh powder just waiting for you to go swooshing downhill. Let's take a few minutes and enjoy the morning. Clayton said he'd call the second anything changes. You'll be out of here at a moment's notice." He grabbed the hand she'd yanked away from him moments earlier. This time she let him hold onto it.

  "How'd my life get so screwed up, Brad?" The lift gave a little bump as it ascended, and she squeezed his hand tighter.

  "Mom and I have a new life. A good life. She loves her job at the diner, loves dealing with her regulars every day. My classroom, those kids—I was happy. Seven years and he still won't leave us alone."

  "He is one sick son of a bitch, I'll grant you that. Slippery as an eel too. Knows right where the legal line is and marches clear up to the edge, but never crosses it. Cougar Hills practically worships the ground your father walks on. How that spawn of Satan could have fathered an angel like you . . ."

  Cassie couldn't contain her laughter. "Angel? Really? And you've know me how long?" Her thoughts shifted to the monster who called himself her father. Monster. An apropos word, describing him perfectly. Like Jekyll and Hyde, the man epitomized the twin personalities. To the people of Cougar Hills, Texas, he was the town physician, kindhearted, churchgoing, devoted to the well-being of all his flock. Served on the local town council and was best buddies with the sheriff. But to her and her mother, evil personified hid behind the civilized mask he portrayed to the town folk.

  One minute he'd be delivering a baby or fixing a child's broken arm. Then he'd come home and beat her mother to within an inch of her life. Smart, cunning and ruthless, he knew exactly where and how to deliver blows
to inflict the most damage without leaving any marks to even hint at spousal abuse. No, he was much too clever for that.

  "I wonder what set him off this time?" Cassie didn't realize she'd spoken her thoughts out loud until Brad answered.

  "No telling, darlin'." His Texas drawl was more pronounced, something she'd noted over the years got thicker, like smooth molasses, whenever he struggled to hold his emotions in check. "Clayton's kept tabs on him ever since I asked him to years ago." A smile tugged at Brad's lips before he continued.

  "That man's got more fingers in more pies than Sara Lee, I swear. None of us can keep up with everything he keeps track of." Cassandra sighed as he reached out, running his fingers through her hair before tucking her head snugly onto his shoulder, and resting his chin atop her curls. Again she wished she could love Brad as more than her best friend.

  "Clayton say's the good doc hasn't left Cougar Hills, but he's got the sheriff putting out feelers again looking for you and your mom. Your dad's got a bad case of wanting you both back. Seven years is a very long time to look for people who ran away."

  "He'll never give up. To him we're possessions. We belong to him—it's like he owns us. It probably hurt his pride, his exalted standing in town when we disappeared. He won't give up until he finds us." The fearful memory gripped her in its icy grasp, talons sharp and pointed piercing her recollections. Was it a premonition of what was to come?

  "Brad, how's Quin going to get Jake to leave? It looked like he'd been checking in last night. If he just got here. . ."

  "I told you, don't worry, Quin has a way of making people do exactly what he wants, when he wants. Everything will work out, you'll see."

  Work out for whom, she thought. Was it too late to change direction now, too late to run? If it really was Jake checking in last night, a confrontation was inevitable.

  "The only thing I see, Brad, is disaster with a capital D."