The Risk-Taker

by Kira Sinclair

  She didn’t need anything or anyone. When they were younger he’d thought of himself as the one exception to that rule. It had always made him feel special, especially when he couldn’t seem to do anything else right. But, as it turned out, she’d been able to cut him out of her life with little fuss.

  He closed the space between them. Her body stiffened.

  He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her scent surrounded him, something sweet with a hint of spice running underneath. Perfectly Hope. He could feel the heat of her. It warmed him in a way that even the hottest day in the middle of the desert hadn’t been able to do.

  Her lips parted. He didn’t think it was intentional, but the motion still drew his attention.

  Instead of doing what he wanted, Gage reached up and poked her straight in the ribs.

  She wheezed, a sound halfway between laughter and surprise, and bent sideways away from his finger.

  “What are you doing?” She slapped his hand away and he let her.

  “Rumpling that perfect exterior.”

  “What perfect exterior?”

  “The one you’ve expertly crafted to make people forget that you spent years loudly telling everyone just how far you were planning to get from this place. Funny, looks like you didn’t get quite as far as you’d hoped.”

  The flash of hurt was quick and immediately covered with narrow-eyed pique. But he saw it. And regretted that he’d caused it.

  But he shouldn’t. The fact that anything he said had the power to wound her was surprising. Although it didn’t exactly change anything.

  He moved in closer. He was tall, and as Hope was wearing heels, they were almost perfectly matched. Gage brought his mouth to the tender shell of her ear and whispered, “I know exactly who you are, Hope. Your most intimate secrets. The sound of your laughter. The smell of your favorite shampoo. How you nibbled the cap on your pen during tests. Did you know I spent years fantasizing about getting my hands on you?”

  He pulled back, studying her for some reaction, although he wasn’t exactly certain what. Maybe surprise. Or distaste. Or possibly even interest. He didn’t find any of those things, just an alert cautiousness.

  She wanted something from him. It should have felt better to be able to deny her. Just like she’d denied him so many years ago. When he’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her that all those times he’d asked her out hadn’t been a joke. That he meant it every single time and had wanted her for years. And each time she’d uttered the word no it had wounded him just a little.

  He was so close that he could see the golden flecks in her eyes. The leery burn of them. He stared straight into her and said, “Disappointment’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  SHE FUMED, SILENTLY, UNABLE to move away from the wall even after he’d gone. Her body shook with a combination of anger and relief.

  “Was that Gage Harper I just saw leaving?”

  Her dad walked into her office and plopped down into the chair Gage had just occupied.

  His silver-brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d either just rolled out of bed or spent the past several hours tugging at the thinning strands. Hope wanted to think that it was the latter, but she was afraid it was the former.

  Her dad had been spending less and less time at the paper in the past few years, making her life even crazier than it already was. They were a small operation, so on a good day she was CEO, bookkeeper, referee, marketing, content and traffic cop all rolled into one. Usually at once. It was amazing she didn’t get brained by one of the balls she constantly juggled.

  Which didn’t sit well with her. She’d tried to talk to him about his lack of interest but he just changed the subject or ignored her.

  She’d come home right after college, almost seven years ago, to take care of him and the paper while he recovered from cancer treatment. The surgery and the months of chemo and recovery as he regained his strength had been difficult on them both, but he had been in remission for years now.

  The problem was that while his energy had returned, his interest in the Sentinel hadn’t. She’d gently suggested he look for a buyer. But he’d gotten angry, telling her not to be silly, that it had been in their family for over a hundred years.

  What was she supposed to do? Let her family’s heritage crumble around her from neglect? She was stuck. The only way out involved getting a job that removed her from the equation completely and forced his hand.

  “Yes,” she growled, glaring at her dad.

  He did a double take, finally looking at her for the first time since he’d walked into the room.

  “Well, there’s no reason to be snippy. I just asked a simple question.”

  He was right. The person she was really angry with had already fled the scene. Taking out her frustrations on her dad wouldn’t help. Especially since they already had enough unresolved issues.

  Taking a deep breath, Hope offered, “I’m sorry,” and tried to put a smile with the words.

  She must have been at least partially successful, because her dad smiled back. “No problem, pumpkin. I know you’re under a lot of stress.”

  Okay, now the anger was pointed squarely at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Do you know what would lessen that stress?”

  “A night out?”

  “No!” Hope stalked across her small office and propped her hip against the desk so she could stare straight into her dad’s eyes and pin him to the spot. “You being here! That’s what would help my stress level. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to run the paper?”

  His eyebrows dropped over narrowed eyes. “I don’t remember asking you to.”

  “You didn’t have to. Who do you think the staff come to when they have a problem or question and you’re not here?”

  “So don’t answer them, Hope. They know how to reach me when I’m off site. Don’t pin your own relentless need to pick up every burden you walk past on me. Tell them no.”

  Hope growled low in her throat.

  “Anyway, that’s not why I came in here.”

  Needing some space, Hope slipped around her desk and sank into the waiting comfort of her chair. She wasn’t up for having this argument—again—today. Not after her encounter with Gage. Nothing she said ever changed the outcome, anyway.

  “I was cleaning out the safety deposit box and found this.” Her dad held out a burgundy velvet box. “Thought you might want to wear it to the cocktail party tomorrow night.”

  Slowly, Hope reached across the desk for it. Before she’d even touched it she knew the nap on the box would be soft and worn. It had been...years since she’d seen it.

  The hinges creaked as she lifted the lid. Nestled against the dark red satin lining was a beautiful necklace-and-earring set. The large ruby teardrop pendant hung from a delicate gold chain. The links gleamed with age and care. The earrings were smaller ruby teardrops with diamond chips at the top. Both pieces were heirlooms and had been given to her mother by her father’s grandmother when her parents had gotten married.

  The last memory Hope had of the set was when she’d been eight—no, maybe nine—and watched as her parents prepared for the Cupid’s Couples charity party. She’d wanted desperately to go, but they’d told her she was too young.

  Later that month her mom had died in a car crash.

  The familiar pain lanced through her. It had been over twenty years. She wondered when the loss would stop sneaking up on her.

  “I thought you’d sold these,” she breathed softly.

  “Why would I do that?” her dad asked, incredulously.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve just never mentioned them so I assumed you didn’t have them anymore.”

  “Your mom liked me to keep it in the safety deposit box when she wasn’t wearing it. I decided to leave it there until you got older and I could give it to you. Your mom wanted you to have it on your wedding day.”

  Her wedding day? Even the mention of it gave her hear
t palpitations. “Whoa, I’m not even dating anyone.”

  Her dad gave her a tiny frown. “I know. But I wanted to see you wear them and thought this was the perfect occasion. I know you’re going to the party. Maybe they’ll be a good luck charm and you’ll catch some nice man’s eye.”

  “Dad, I do not need a man.”

  Her dad was buying in to the town propaganda just a little too much for her peace of mind. Sure, Sweetheart embraced the hearts-and-flowers thing with gusto. The image pulled in tourists from nearby Charleston and Hilton Head and had provided them a sustaining source of income when the textile mill outside of town shut down more than twenty years ago.

  The town was the perfect setting already, providing a charming, small-town romantic escape for couples and honeymooners. The Cupid’s Couples events had been going on for over fifty years.

  But this was reality and her life in particular they were talking about. Marriage wasn’t part of her plan, at least not until her journalism career was back on track, which wasn’t going to happen as long as she was stuck at the Sentinel.

  “You’re putting your name in for Cupid’s Couples at least, right?”

  Hope sighed. She could lie to her dad... “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Why ever not, Hope? Your mom would be disappointed in you.”

  She sucked in another breath against the surprise. How could she argue with him? She had no idea if her mom would be disappointed or not. She’d been too young when she died to really know her. She’d only seen her through the eyes of a child, not an adult aware of more than just her own selfish desires.

  They were talking an awful lot about her mom today. Hope couldn’t remember the last time her dad had mentioned her... Probably not since his own illness and recovery.

  That entire experience had been difficult for her—the prospect of losing her only remaining parent. Even now the thought sent panic skittering just beneath her skin. Wanting to change the subject, Hope returned to something that had been bothering her since he’d said it. “Why were you cleaning out the safety deposit box?”

  He glanced away from her, suddenly finding something incredibly interesting on the wall behind her head. “No reason, really. It was a chore I’ve been putting off for a while. It’s so easy to forget what’s in there.”

  Leaning across the desk, Hope grasped her dad’s hand. His startled eyes shot to hers.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered without flinching.

  “Thank you for Mom’s jewelry. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

  Happiness stretched across his face. “Wonderful.” Pulling his hand out from under hers, her dad stood and headed for the door.

  He turned, and with that mischievous glint in his eyes that always left her feeling slightly uneasy, he said, “Maybe you can use their glitter to catch Gage’s eye. He’s always had a thing for you and it would be a coup for our little paper if you could get an exclusive interview.”

  Yeah. She’d get right on that. And worry later about disappointing her dad by giving the story to the Courier.

  4

  HOPE WAS ALWAYS AMAZED at the Cupid committee’s ability to completely transform the basement of St. Luke’s. For as long as she could remember the cocktail party that kicked off the weeklong festivities had been held at the church. Tonight everyone who had paid to be paired—and a few who hadn’t—would be matched with an eligible man or woman for Valentine’s week. They’d participate in events and go out on dates. The hope being that after the week some of the couples might find they were perfect together. Hope had other plans for the man she’d nominated and the week she’d purchased.

  Apparently the theme this year was red and gold. Someone had tacked large panels of dark red crushed velvet along the walls, camouflaging the peeling beige paint beneath. Swags of gauzy gold material hid the boring acoustic-tiled ceiling and caught the light from the hundreds of candles burning on the tables, bouncing it back onto the crush of people milling below.

  Normally St. Luke’s was big enough to comfortably hold the entire town, but with the addition of tourists even the huge basement was stretched to capacity. Although no one—young, old, single, taken—would miss Matching Night. Too much gossip.

  One of their reporters was moving through the crowd, ready to report all the drama. Tonight she was more likely to be the story than the one recounting it. Not that she intended to tell anyone her role in what was about to go down.

  Not if she expected it all to work... Butterflies fluttered uncomfortably inside her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous. Maybe college. Yeah, probably over some major exam.

  And, really, this wasn’t much different. When she thought about it, her reaction was normal. An assignment. A test. That’s all this was. It had nothing to do with Gage or the fact that she’d pulled a sizable chunk out of her rainy day fund to ensure she had an entire week of his undivided attention.

  Pressing a hand to her tummy to calm the butterflies, she stood on tiptoe and tried to find her friends.

  She spotted Jenna, the town’s only caterer and one of her best friends, by the large—and temporary—bar, and waved. When Jenna noticed her she mouthed “everything okay?” Jenna gave a single nod that was at odds with the frown lines creasing the middle of her forehead. But before Hope could move that way one of the tux-clad waitstaff was pulling her away.

  Hope debated whether to go after her, but decided Jenna was probably just stressed and interrupting would only add to that.

  “Over here,” Lexi called out, waving from a table halfway across the room. Hope pushed through the crowd, slipping into the last empty seat.

  Around the table their friends greeted her—Macey, Willow, Jade, Lanie, Regan and Tatum. Normally, Jenna would have been part of their group, but she was obviously busy tonight.

  They were an eclectic bunch. She’d known Willow, Lanie and Jade from kindergarten, and despite a few hormone-fueled moments during their teenage years, they’d always been close. Tatum had joined their group when she moved here to buy Petals. Willow, always worried about making everyone feel welcome, had adopted

  her. She shouldn’t have worried. Tatum could be abrasive, but you always knew where you stood with her and everyone rather liked her. Macey, a bit older than the rest of them, was Willow’s business partner.

  Despite the difference in their ages, Hope and Lexi had always been friends, growing up on the same street. Although, Hope had been even closer to Gage. At least until he left. After Lexi opened Sugar & Spice right behind the newspaper offices their friendship had quickly rekindled. At first Hope had worried Lexi would hold a grudge for how her friendship with Gage had ended, but she’d never even mentioned it. Hope was glad because she really liked Lexi.

  “What have I missed?” Hope asked, eyeing the line at the bar and calculating whether she had time to grab a martini before the festivities started.

  “Not much,” Tatum groused. “No catfights yet, but I pray that ends pretty quickly.”

  Lexi just rolled her eyes. “You know you don’t have to be here.”

  “And miss all the excitement?” Tatum exclaimed, her eyes round with mock innocence as she gulped down her whiskey and seven.

  Tatum had grown up in Detroit and didn’t always get the idiosyncrasies that came with living in a small southern town—like antiquated traditions that went back generations. But she always attended, even if she needed some liquid courage to get through the experience.

  “You know, one of these years I’m going to pay to put your name in just so I can see you squirm,” Lexi threatened, a gleam in her eye.

  Willow leaned across the table. “This year. Please, do it this year. I need the entertainment.”

  “Don’t worry.” Tatum rattled the naked ice in her empty glass and eyed the bar line. “I brought my checkbook just in case I needed a get-out-of-jail payment. I’m not interested in any of the men in this town and I have no intention of be
ing forced into a torturous week with one of them.”

  “Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad. There must be someone you’re interested in.” Jade plucked the glass out of Tatum’s hand and plopped her mostly untouched amaretto sour in its place. Tatum took a sip, grimaced, eyed the bar line again and drank some more.

  “You forget. I deliver flowers to the wives when they feel guilty and the mistresses when they don’t.”

  Hope just shook her head. Weren’t florists supposed to be romantics? To have perpetual smiles and sunny dispositions? That definitely did not describe Tatum.

  “What about Gage?” Macey’s soft voice piped up. Lexi frowned.

  “What about him?” Tatum asked.

  “Well, he’s a war hero. Just home, so you’ve never met him and definitely haven’t delivered any flowers to wife, mistress or girlfriend. What’s wrong with him?”

  Tatum’s gaze shifted to Lexi for a moment. Pain and guilt filled her eyes before flitting away. What the heck was that about? “Nothing. I’m sure he’s great, but I don’t do soldiers.”

  “Who do you do?” Regan asked.

  Willow shocked them all by adding, “You know if it’s girls we’d be fine with that.”

  Tatum sputtered, choking out, “No,” as she tried to inhale her drink.

  “Just checking.” Willow shrugged.

  Gage slipped up behind his sister, wrapping her in the kind of hug that left Lexi bent over. “Save me,” he pleaded.

  The butterflies took flight again inside Hope’s belly.

  “Can’t. Breathe,” Lexi wheezed out, swatting at his arms clamped around her body.

  His shoulder muscles flexed against the straining seams of his jacket. He was wearing his dress uniform, although Hope almost wished he hadn’t. It was...too much. He looked too good in it.

  Something white flashed, drawing her eyes down to his hands and the bandages wrapped around his thumbs. Paired with the uniform they were both reminders of what he’d been through.