by BETH KERY
“I’m going to tell them about everything you gave up for me,” Harper continued so forcefully that he glanced over at her in surprise. “I’m going to tell them, Jake. Don’t worry. My parents are really nice, for adults I mean. I’m going to tell them that we want to stay friends. You could come and visit me in Georgetown.”
He nodded, because he sensed her excitement on the topic and that she wanted him to agree. He tried to imagine it for a few seconds, him traveling all by himself—maybe in a train?—to Washington, DC, and finally seeing Harper’s big house and her bedroom and the shelves filled with all her books. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite picture himself in her world. It was like he couldn’t squeeze the concept of his mean existence into her shiny, clean one.
“I hate being a kid,” he said dully after a moment.
Harper opened her mouth to reply, but that was when they first heard it: the distant, eerie shriek. The hellish sound seemed to echo off the walls and ceiling of the limestone cavern, amplifying it.
Jake leapt up and started feeding the fire, intent on creating a blaze.
“Jake? What was that?”
“Go get more wood,” he told her, stirring the sparking embers forcefully.
She hurried to follow his direction. Maybe she sensed his urgency, because she didn’t say anything else as he added fuel, building a healthy fire.
“What was it?” she repeated breathlessly when he finally straightened and stood next to her. Before he answered, they heard the ominous shriek tear through the dark night again.
“Mountain lion,” he replied quietly, his head tilted as he listened intently.
“Will it come in here?” Harper asked in a high-pitched voice.
“Probably not,” Jake said, glancing uneasily from the front to the back of the cave. “It’s the first time I’ve seen spoor in here.”
“Spoor?”
“Shit,” he stated concisely. “It’s the cat’s. The mountain lion must have just found the cave. It’s a new discovery for it, not a permanent den. I was hoping it wouldn’t try and come back. I’ve never seen signs of one anytime that I’ve been here before.”
“What do we do?”
Jake blinked and focused on Harper’s face. She looked panicked. He could understand why. A mountain lion’s scream was hair-raising. The first time hearing it would shake anyone.
“Nothing. We stay put.” He urged her to sit next to him by the fire. “That’s another thing you have to learn about the woods. A fire means warmth. But more importantly, it means safety. Mountain lions are afraid of fires. Most animals are.”
She just stared at him for a moment, her face looking pale and her eyes huge in the light of the now-leaping flames. Another scream ripped through the silence. Harper jumped against him, her arms flying around his waist. He felt a shiver tear through her. The mountain lion sounded closer this time, but because of the echo factor of the river canyon, he couldn’t discern if the wild cat was prowling at the front or the back of the cave, or even above them on the bluff. He couldn’t know for sure which entrance the animal had used the first time, or whether it was familiar with both openings. That’s what had him most worried.
For a few seconds, they waited tensely, listening. They heard only the crackle of the flames and the distant trickle of water.
“You’ve been keeping the fire going all day,” she said tremulously. “You knew this might happen?”
He shook his head. “I was just worried it would. That’s not the same thing.”
Another terrifying shriek tore through the cave. Harper put her hands to her ears. “It’s horrible.”
“I know, but it’s harmless. And it sounds closer than it is,” he assured, desperate to calm her anxiety even while his own mounted. “They come around Emmitt’s place a lot, not only because of all the trash Emmitt leaves around, but they smell the dogs and puppies. They try to intimidate you with their screaming and squalling, but mountain lions are big bullies. All talk and no action.”
“You mean they won’t try to get in here and attack us?”
“Nah,” he scoffed.
Slowly, she lowered her hands from her ears. She jumped when the demon cat growled again, but he saw that increasingly familiar resolve on her pale face. She was straining to hide her anxiety.
“Tell me about the swim team,” he said impulsively when the mountain lion tore off another screech. It was definitely getting closer, and he was determined to keep Harper occupied. He thought the cat was circling closer toward the entrance at the back of the cave, but he couldn’t be entirely certain. The only thing he could do was distract Harper while they waited, and he figured out which entrance the predator stalked. Once he knew that, he’d move them to the opposite side of the fire from where the cat approached. For now, he kept them cautiously at the side of the flames, both entrances to the right and left of him. “What’s your stroke?” he prodded her.
“Freestyle and backstroke.”
“Did you win many races?”
Their previous talk resumed, and this time they were even more animated, both of them determinedly ignoring the earsplitting screams and growls of the mountain lion as it prowled outside the cave. Jake knew the animal stalked them, so there was no call for being extra hushed. They talked for more than an hour, until a wild shriek resounded so deafeningly through the cavern, even Jake jumped. He crawled over Harper and pulled her along with him, so that their backs were now turned to the front entrance of the cave.
“Jake, what—”
But Jake had stood and grabbed more timber, feeding the fire.
“He’s at the cliff entrance,” he said tensely. “I wasn’t sure if he was at the front or back before.”
“Oh my God.”
“Shhh, it’s going to be okay,” Jake said, gathering more wood and moving it closer to the fire, within easy reaching distance. He came down next to her, trying to see in the deep, murky shadows at the back of the first cave. His arms went out without thinking, closing around Harper when she crowded against him. He hugged her close. The mountain lion screamed again, the piercing sound enough to freeze his heart.
“It’s in the stalactite cave,” Harper whimpered the obvious. The mountain lion’s shriek had echoed and rolled like thunder across the cave walls this time, the sound terrifyingly close. He could feel her shaking against him. He pulled her closer, and she smashed her face against his chest.
“What’d I tell you about the fire. Harper?” he prompted, and she knew she was listening with dread for the approaching cat.
“That it’s not only for warmth, but for safety. And that mountain lions don’t like it?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“That’s right,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head and peering toward the entrance of the second cave. “He’ll lose patience when he sees he can’t get to us. He’ll go hunt somewhere else when his hunger pains get the better of him.”
“Really?” she asked in a quavering voice, her nose still pressed against his chest.
“Really.” The bully cat shrieked again, seeming to rattle the whole cave. Harper shuddered.
“Jake—”
He stroked her hair, never taking his eyes off the back entrance. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve got the fire. Trust me. Tell me about The Lord of the Rings.”
“What?” She sounded a little incredulous at his request.
“Yeah. Like a campfire story. We’ve got a fire. Tell me about it.”
He sensed some of her terror receding slightly at that. If he was urging her to tell stories around the fire, maybe things couldn’t be that bad. She started talking in a muffled, quavering voice about something called hobbits, which sounded to Jake like these easygoing, fat dwarves who lived in the woods. Just as she mentioned someone named Frodo, Jake saw it: the eyes of the mountain lion glowing at him from the cloakin
g darkness. The cat was about twenty-five feet away from their fire.
“What kind of a name is Frodo?” he muttered, still stroking her hair, subtly urging her to keep her face against his chest.
“It’s a hobbit’s name,” she scolded, sniffing. “Just listen to the story, all right?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. She resumed the shaky telling of her story. He held her against him all the while, never flinching from the demon cat’s stare.
thirty
Present Day
She was bringing everything up to the surface. Jacob was frustrated as hell at her for that.
He was also wary, not to mention so damn curious, he thought he was going to lose it sometime soon.
Did she remember? Or didn’t she?
Sometimes, it felt like all he could do to keep himself from grabbing her and demanding she tell him the truth about what she recalled about the August before her seventh-grade year. What did she remember about a sociopath called Emmitt Tharp, about being kidnapped, of escaping with scrawny Jake Tharp? She’d say things sometimes that seemed like echoes from their past: her onetime phobia for dogs and knives, her wistful musings about someone from her past helping her get over her fear of heights, what she’d said tonight about the fire being for security, not just warmth. Those things, and so many other small mentions on her part, made him wild with speculation and curiosity.
And yet . . . he’d searched her expression each time, and there would be no connection he could discern in her eyes between whatever hint she’d dropped and him—Jacob—the man present with her there in the moment. It was as if everything he’d told her about him remaking himself new every day was the literal truth, as if Jake Tharp and Jacob Latimer really were two different beings . . . that there was truly no connection for him to find in Harper’s beautiful eyes. That rattled him nearly as much as the idea that she did remember him.
Maybe he really had killed off Jake Tharp in his single-minded mission to become Jacob Latimer. That concept used to reassure him. It’d been the only reason he allowed himself to indulge in a relationship with Harper. But increasingly, he searched for that connection not just because he dreaded it. He wanted her to remember Jake, to acknowledge that past connection and their shared history . . .
If only a little.
And that alteration in his attitude had him seriously on edge as they left Geb, and he opened the limo door for her. Because there was no a little in this scenario. She either remembered, or she didn’t. Either he resolved to promote Harper’s apparent amnesia, or he prodded her to recall more, tainting and altering his present-day world. Because it wouldn’t just be the sweet, poignant moments of their time spent together that would jump out of that Pandora’s box of memory. So many ugly, shameful secrets would spring out of the past as well, truths Jacob vigilantly guarded against. He’d figuratively killed off Jake Tharp so that Jacob Latimer could live and thrive.
And he’d been doing it so well, until she’d walked into his life again.
It wasn’t just his concern about what Harper would do with those memories in regard to his life, either. He was worried for her, and that concern rose every minute he spent in her company. If her father had truly been successful in making her forget a traumatic kidnapping and assault at age twelve, then Jacob should be doing whatever he could to make sure those ugly memories stayed buried. He knew all too well what effect Emmitt’s foulness had had on a victim less fortunate than Harper had been.
The conflict raged in him. The push-pull he experienced toward her mounted, the friction of it becoming unbearable.
The atmosphere in the private enclosure of the limo was almost as stifling and charged as it had been last night, after the opera, Jacob realized with a frown. They’d finished dinner soon after Harper’s comment about the fire and Jacob’s sharp questions and comments. They’d both skipped dessert and coffee, and had been polite enough with each other while Jacob took care of the check. Still, their former intimacy and warmth had vanished, only to be replaced by a growing, taut strain.
They rode in silence for twenty minutes. As Miguel, his driver, maneuvered them through tight Saturday evening traffic, he found himself unable to restrain his volatility any longer, however.
She sat on the seat across from him, staring out the window, the passing lights glimmering in the stones of the earrings he’d bought her. Her pure, striking profile was what drew his gaze, however, not the precious gems. He clenched his teeth.
God, he wanted her.
“There are times that I feel like you know more about me than you’re letting on.”
His words sounded harsh, cutting through the billowing silence of the dim, hushed limo. He recognized that a portion of his volatility stemmed from her aloofness at that moment . . . her untouchable quality. Because despite all his ambiguity and uncertainty toward her, the need to touch, to assure himself of her reciprocated need, never once waned. If anything, his hunger seemed to be growing exponentially in the face of his doubts.
She turned to him. He saw incredulity written large on her face.
“Why in the world would I know more about you than I’m telling you?” she demanded. He saw understanding slowly dawn on her face. “Do you think I’m putting on a show? To get a story about you? Did you talk to Cyril? Did he tell you I was asking questions about your background this afternoon?”
Cyril hadn’t told him anything, but Jacob’s expression didn’t shift. His heartbeat began to thrum in his hears. “Cyril and I have been friends for years,” he replied neutrally. “We don’t keep a lot from each other.”
She exhaled, shaking her head, the motion causing her long, lush hair to slide across her pale shoulders and arms. Desire and confusion clashed inside him, making his muscles tense hard.
“I told him I wasn’t asking questions about you to get fuel for a story, or to use the information in any way that was harmful to you. I told him I was just trying to understand you better. Then he ran to tell you everything, apparently. You have him trained well,” she stated bitterly, staring again out the window, her jaw tense. She suddenly made a desperate, disgusted sound and whipped her head around. “Why are you so convinced I want to hurt you?”
“Because you can.”
She started. He, too, felt a little taken aback by his honest answer. He’d just admitted point-blank that he cared enough for her that she had the power to hurt him. After a stretched moment, she inhaled slowly.
“Because I have access to your homes? To your world? To you? Don’t kid yourself. You haven’t given that much away, Jacob. Besides, you’ve asked me to take risks for you,” she breathed out coldly. “Maybe you’re going to have to decide once and for all if you’re willing to do the same for me. Oh . . . and once you make your choice, stop getting pissed off at me every time I remind you of someone else, or make you feel in the tiniest bit vulnerable. That’s just the way being . . . with someone else works.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. He sensed her disgust at him, but also at herself. “I almost said ‘being in a relationship.’ Imagine me, saying that to Jacob Latimer.”
“Harper—”
He cut himself off when the limo came to a halt. He realized in mounting frustration that he wasn’t sure what he would have said to her, anyway. What he could say. He felt blocked at every turn.
They didn’t speak as they approached the Sea Cliff house, and he keyed in a security code. She walked ahead of him when they entered, and headed directly for the stairs. He followed, his agitation swelling at the vision of her elegant, stiff back and shoulders. She was pissed, and good. But he wasn’t exactly pleased at learning she’d been trying to pull answers from Cyril about him, either. They entered his suite and he slammed the door after him. His frothing frustration spilled over when, without pause, she walked briskly toward the guest bathroom.
He lunged toward her, grabbing her upper arm and spinning her to face him.
“You’ve got me twisted in every direction, Harper.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I’m not responsible for your pissy moods.”
He gripped her upper arm tight. “I haven’t spoken to Cyril since I saw him with you this afternoon. I wasn’t saying that you could hurt me because you have access to my life. I was saying it because I care about you. Too fucking much.”
He saw her eyes widen slightly before he swooped down and kissed her. She stiffened at first, but he was so far gone, he didn’t care. He required her taste, her scent, the sensation of her soft, firm lips moving against his. He bit at her lower lip, demanding she join him in this boiling lust. Instead, she bared her teeth, pressed closer to his body, and nipped him back. He saw red. Her hands clutched hard at his shoulders, and her fingers delved into his hair. The feeling of her nails scraping his scalp made savage arousal tear through him. He opened his hands along her sides, encompassing her slender torso, and plunged his tongue into her mouth.
Need assaulted him. He lifted her several inches off the floor and walked with her pressed tight against him. He set her on the edge of his bed, still feeding hungrily from her hot, responsive mouth. Everything seemed to be striking him in sharp, bullet-like flashes of awareness, like his brain was overloading with sensation. Her hands moved anxiously along his shoulders and neck, pulling him to her, urging him onto the bed. Before he came, however, he reached around her neck and unbuttoned the collar of her dress. He broke from their kiss, snarling at the deprivation of her mouth.
He jerked her dress down, baring her breasts. They felt so soft in his hands, so firm and sweet, the tight, coral-colored nipples killing him. They were his to touch—for now—and that knowledge unleashed a desperate excitement in him. He heard Harper’s whimper through the blood pounding in his ears. The next thing he knew, he was pushing her back on his bed and coming down over her, clutching a condom in his hand.
