Searching for You

by Jennifer Probst

  He was getting ready to close up the gates when he caught the crash on his security camera. Thank God he'd seen it or Riley could've been trapped overnight. He hoped she didn't have a concussion. He figured worst-case scenario he'd get the snowplow and drive her to the hospital. First, he'd try to wake her up and work from there.

  What was the woman doing out in a blizzard? Anger twisted with fear and burned through his system, though he kept his touch gentle. For God's sake, no one was out in this weather. The radio blasted the quick movement of the storm heading their way, and warned everyone to stay home. Of course, if Riley Fox was the same stubborn, frustrating woman she'd always been, no wonder she hadn't listened. She had a God complex. It both fascinated and irritated him.

  Besides getting him hot.

  His gaze took in her softened features. She hadn't changed. Dark hair with burgundy highlights was swept back from her high forehead and fell in long silky waves to her shoulders. She used to wear it scooped up in a no-nonsense ponytail that bobbed when she walked. Her face was well-defined, which made for an arresting vision that held a man's attention and entranced him to look deeper. He remembered eyes the color of a soft violet, snapping with command and control. Her lips were thin but perfectly formed to a bow shape. Her jaw was too square, her cheekbones too blunt, her nose too sharp, her brows too arched. But all the features put together made her impossible to ignore.

  Just as she liked it.

  They'd shared a dormitory at Cornell for four years. He still pictured the way she marched down the hallways, backpack swinging, gaze directed ahead with a tunnel vision no beginning college students exhibited. She avoided sororities, beer pong parties, sporting events, and generally any social activity where there was alcohol, sex, and distraction. She graduated with a double major in business management and marketing, a minor in English, worked for the Junior Executive League, school newspaper, and published three articles in featured mass-market magazines.

  She was a force of nature, but Dylan suspected underneath she was one big hot mess. Total control freak meets uptight workaholic. They'd almost killed each other when Professor Tagg paired them for the final project in sophomore year. Fifty percent of their grade and he almost quit. Almost.

  He was too stubborn to let her win.

  Even more so because of the heat between them.

  Dylan shook his head at the memory. Unbelievable. One moment he wanted to strangle her, the next back her up against the wall, release the ponytail, and strip off that white prim blouse she always favored. It was almost as if the fighting was a crazy form of foreplay, but she'd die rather than admit it.

  So would he.

  Still, he'd fantasized that he could push her proper boundaries to make her scream. Beg. Come. For him.

  His dick hardened but he shook it off and began pacing. Why the hell did it have to be Riley Fox to turn him into a horn dog? He had tons of money, a good disposition, looks, and a sense of humor. He'd dated so many women it must be in the triple digits, bedded many along the way, and not once had he found the lightning strike.

  Maybe he never would.

  But already, the air hummed like a live presence, and his blood warmed in his veins. Her scent swam in his nostrils and in his memory. Oranges and jasmine. Some intoxicating mingle of images involving juicy, ripe fruit trickling down his chin, soft floral blossoms, and pure sweetness.

  The ridiculous poetry of his thoughts made him groan. Stupid. Her presence just brought back memories and surprised him. The moment she opened her mouth he'd be reminded of their inability to get through a two-minute conversation without wanting to kill each other.

  She stirred in her sleep. Dylan walked back over and stared down at her. Was she sleeping too long? Should he wake her? He cursed under his breath and decided to shake her gently. Maybe help her along. He reached over.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Dylan jerked back from the sudden awakening like a vampire in a coffin. He watched her gorgeous eyes flicker, obviously trying to remember where she was and what had happened. He opened his mouth to calm her. Explain what happened in a soothing voice so she didn't freak out on him.

  He never got a chance.

  She shot up to a sitting position, hair sliding over one eye, a scowl marring her brows. Her mouth twisted as if she'd either tasted or smelled something bad.

  "You."

  Her voice slammed him with disdain and ice.

  And just like that, Dylan was back in college with a woman who'd pushed every single button he owned and a few he never knew he had.

  He treated her to a slow, insolent smile.

  "Hey, darlin'. Long time, no see."

  The fury on her face from the familiar greeting made him feel a hell of a lot better.

  Yeah. Maybe this would be more fun than he expected.

  When Riley woke, she was struck by blinding white.

  At first, she thought she'd died. Heaven was really pretty in a clean Rachel Zoe way. The vaulted ceiling, walls, and lush shag carpet were pure white. An elaborate four-tier chandelier dripped crystals and pearls, adding to the effect of elegance. A huge fireplace framed in marble took up the far end of the room. The sound of snapping logs drifted in the air. She rolled to her side and noticed she lay on a long white sofa, with matching wing chairs of the same color. At least heaven was color coordinated. She'd be so disappointed to be stuck in tie-dye.

  Her gaze rose and collided with a pair of stunning eyes. One pure blue. The other a rich brown. A memory deep inside unfurled, and heat bloomed in her belly, spreading through her veins. Impossible. She knew this man.

  Dylan McCray.

  She struggled for composure, and bolted upright. Dear God, it was him. How was it possible to look better after a whole decade? His hair was still a delicious mix of wheat-colored strands with streaks of white peppered throughout. With that thick and unruly hair, he gave off a surfer vibe. The deceiving halo was a wicked contradiction to his hypnotic gaze that could command a woman to drop her panties in 2.2 seconds. His face was a dance of graceful lines that set off his lips, which had a delicious natural sulky curve. He sported dimples that emphasized his mischievous charm rather than caused him to look boyish. He reminded her of an angel, with a lean, muscled physique. He was Michael and Gabriel reincarnated to seduce women and master men on Earth.

  "You."

  The word blasted from her mouth in pure shock, horror, and frustration.

  Riley stared back helplessly at the man she'd never been able to forget. Heir to McCray Technologies--the billion-dollar computer giant rivaling Sony and Apple for market share with cutting-edge electronics. A playboy who bedded every woman in his path, and graduated with a 4.0 in business management without even trying. A man who believed in fun and frolic before work, owned a wicked sense of humor, and was the sexiest male specimen she'd ever laid her eyes on.

  Yeah. She despised him.

  He'd literally tortured her throughout college. Stuck sharing a dormitory, with her room a short distance down the hall from his, she spent those years watching him go through every last woman on campus and party his ass off. While she worked and studied nonstop, he gained his A's easily. He never went to the library, never turned a paper in on time, and was the leader in every social activity at Cornell. He was revered by teachers and students, walked on water like the Golden Boy he was, and made it his goal to annoy the hell out of her every step of the way.

  Yet . . .

  Every verbal battle emphasized a strange connection between them. The sparks when they fought literally whizzed in the air, and he had a way of defusing her ironclad rules with a sense of humor that sometimes even had her struggling to remain serious. They were picture-perfect opposites--doomed to be anything but enemies with a tad of grudging respect mixed in.

  Until the kiss.

  Riley scowled as the memory hit her hard. She refused to think about that short, weak moment. She'd completely forgotten it anyway. Kind of.

  "Hey, darlin'
. Long time, no see."

  Her temper rose. His Texas drawl may have been hot shit at Cornell, but she knew the truth. He used it on purpose to score, and called every female darlin'. Like they were special. He also knew she despised the lame term with its chauvinistic facets. So, it was to be war from the beginning, huh?

  Bring it.

  "What are you doing here? Where have you taken me?" she demanded.

  That sulky lip curled halfway up. "Your car slid into the ditch. I caught it on the security camera, pulled you out, and now you're in my house."

  "Your house?" She studied the room again, remembering the spooky massive mansion rising above the mountaintop. "You live here? In the creepy house?"

  A touch of annoyance lit his gaze. "It happens to be historic, and I had the place refurbished. What I find more creepy is you sneaking around my place during a blizzard. Miss me, darlin'?"

  Riley managed not to bare her teeth and hiss. "Hardly. I was meeting a date at the skating rink. I have no idea how I got here, I must've taken the wrong way at the fork in the road. My car slid when I reached the top."

  "Rinker's Park is the left."

  "Great, my fifty-fifty shot failed again. Would be nice if there was a sign."

  "You probably missed it in the storm. Must be some date to risk your life for a bit of ice-skating."

  She glowered. "I didn't realize it would be this bad. The report said a dusting."

  "At 7 a.m. They changed it later this morning. Why didn't your date cancel?"

  No way was she letting him know the truth. Blind dates were humiliating to begin with, let alone admitting she had to use a matchmaking agency because she was so hard up. Never. "It's a long story. Listen, thank you for playing the prince on horseback role, but I need to get home. Where's my cell?"

  He shrugged. "Probably in the car."

  Riley gasped. "My purse? Did you get that?"

  "No, I was more focused on pulling your body from a vehicle that could burst into flames. Sorry I didn't check for personal belongings."

  His sarcastic wit hit home. How was he able to make her mad at the same time she wanted to laugh? He continuously kept her off balance throughout school until she erected a barrier to keep him at a distance. Usually she figured out exactly what made a man tick, what he wanted, and his strengths and weaknesses. She knew it was a talent that served her well in the business world. With Dylan, she was still clueless.

  Okay, plan B. She lifted her hand and touched her scalp. Nothing felt tender. She had gotten lucky.

  "How are you feeling?"

  She scooped her hair away from her face. "Fine, I just got shook up."

  He nodded. "Do you remember everything? You know, where you live, what you do, et cetera."

  She rolled her eyes. "We're not in one of those awful chick flicks where I get amnesia and you help me rediscover the beauty of life. Of course I remember everything."

  "Good to see you remembered your charming disposition."

  Riley was tempted to stick out her tongue but it would be too undignified. Better to focus on getting off this mountain and away from him. "If I can use your phone, I'll take my disposition out of here. I'm sure there are some tow services that come out in the storm."

  "Doubt it. Besides, there's no cell service. The telephone lines are coated with ice and the mountain is a death zone. Supposed to get a foot overnight. No one's getting in or out of here till tomorrow."

  Worry nipped her nerves. "What about the facility? The employees should know how to contact emergency services. This is a huge skating complex."

  He hadn't lost the easy confidence that made students part the hallway to let him through. As if he owned not just the campus, but every room he walked into and claimed. He cocked his head, then offered a faint smile. "Everything's shut down. We closed early and sent all the workers home. There's no one here but you and me, Riley."

  No. Way. She stared at his amused look and clenched her fists in frustration. "How do you know so much about the park anyway? You're trapped in an empty building from The Shining and completely isolated! I bet if I hiked over there I'd find someone to help me."

  She waited for him to sputter out excuses, but he kept staring at her with those kaleidoscope eyes that did very bad things to the sensitive spot between her thighs. He seemed to savor the moment of charged silence.

  "Because I not only own this house. I own Rinker's Park." She stiffened, watching as he slowly came toward her and closed the distance. His presence radiated shocking heat and a purpose she didn't want to examine too closely. "I suggest you get comfortable, because you're not going anywhere."

  chapter 4

  Dylan watched her eyes widen. Her face reflected a dozen emotions as she sought to process and organize, probably already planning two forms of attack.

  The woman never surrendered easily.

  "Let's recap. I'm trapped here alone with you overnight in a spook house. Why are you here anyway? You're supposed to be in some trendy Manhattan condo making your billions."

  He smothered a laugh. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought. If I give you a tour you'd see the benefits of living here. I have privacy, beautiful scenery, and complete access to the park whenever I'd like. I can also commute easily into the city."

  She rose from the sofa and swiped her hands over her black knit pants. The fabric fit snugly over the line of her thigh and curve of her rear. A cheerful red sweater emphasized the same impressive cleavage she had back in college. Dylan used to wonder how her breasts would fit in his hands, then be so freaked by the thought he'd go get drunk. Sequined black fur boots encased her feet. She looked like a sleek snow bunny who needed a tumble. He always wondered if Riley Fox lost all that well-earned control in bed.

  An interesting idea to toy with.

  She straightened up and propped her hands on her hips. "I have a better idea. You show me where a spare room is, and I'll see you in the morning. Haven't gone to bed early in a while. Extra sleep will be good for me."

  His lips twitched. "Sorry, you may have a concussion and I'm not taking any chances. You stay with me."

  She waved a manicured hand in the air. "No worries, I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

  "I don't care. You're still not leaving my sight."

  "You're kidnapping me?" she demanded.

  Dylan arched a brow. "Dramatic, much?"

  She let out an annoyed breath. He was positive not many people argued with her, or even managed to change her direction. She was bullheaded and determined to do things her way. A spark of challenge lit within. She'd never be an easy woman to live with, but she'd never be boring. "Fine. But I'm drinking. Please tell me you have wine somewhere."

  "I happen to have an excellent wine cellar. White or red?"

  "Red, please."

  He walked over to the elaborate scrolled-iron wine rack climbing up the corner. He usually took a few bottles out to be handy, so he grabbed a nice French vintage and popped the cork. "Now that we have the whole night, why don't you tell me about this date of yours?"

  He felt rather than saw her tense. Hmm. What was she hiding? And why was she on his mountain in a blizzard? Dylan poured two glasses and walked over. Their fingers brushed when she took her glass, and once again, the current of electricity tingled. Her hand jerked a bit but she managed to speak coolly.

  "Nothing to tell. We got our signals crossed."

  "First date?" he asked.

  She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, we've been out a few times. He's quite charming."

  She stuck her nose in the glass to breathe in the aroma, then slowly took a sip. He enjoyed the way her lips curved in pleasure, and her eyes half closed. The unexpected sensuality of her reaction made his gut clench and his dick stir. He remembered those moments in college. Living in the dormitory, sometimes she'd come strolling out in the common area with her hair up in a messy ponytail, faded T-shirt, and flannel pants. Face scrubbed free of makeup. She'd sit cross-legged on the rug, joining in
the conversation. Dylan was fascinated with her natural beauty, open laugh, and quick wit. She'd meet his gaze with her usual cheekiness, but something else stirred beneath the surface. Most of the time she was removed from the crowd, set apart by her own personal drive for success. But that night he remembered she told dirty jokes, drank a few beers, and relaxed. He was fascinated by the different sides to her personality, and longed for more. But the next time he saw her, she was back to her usual conservative demeanor, refusing to acknowledge they actually had fun the night before. She drove him nuts.

  Dylan pushed the memory away. "What's charming's name?"

  "Ryan."

  Warning bells clanged. Ryan? The enormity of the situation overtook him as he finally processed the truth. Kate had told him she wouldn't provide a last name for his blind date. He never would've agreed to such an insane proposal, but he'd been a client of Kinnections for a long time and Kate had earned his trust. Her ridiculous spouting of being open to the impossible by not letting himself prepare or make assumptions before meeting this mystery woman seemed like a bunch of female fantasies he didn't believe in.

  He sifted through his conversation with Kate. His mystery woman would meet him at 7 p.m. at the gate of Rinker's Park. Tall, with long dark hair. That was all he got.

  Holy shit.

  Riley Fox was his blind date.

  "Why are you looking at me funny?" she asked.

  The truth almost made him laugh out loud. Oh, this was too much fun. And one thing he remembered well was Riley's inability to lie. Fortunately for him, he was great at it. Dylan frowned and cocked his head. "How odd. I know a Ryan who's quite familiar with the rink. What's his last name?"

  She averted her gaze. "Ugh, I forgot. I'm sure you don't know him."

  "I think I do. What does he look like?"

  She scrunched up her face in her usual revealing way, as if trying desperately to come up with a plausible story. "Brown hair. Blue eyes. Very handsome." She turned her back on him and pretended to inspect the various trinkets by the fireplace.

  "Interesting. And you've been seeing him for how long?"

  "A few dates."

  "What does he do?"

  "Do?" She gulped a few more sips of wine. "He's a teacher."

  "Sounds like a great guy. What does he teach?"