Hero in Disguise

by Sharla Lovelace

  “No,” she repeated aloud, remembering Frankie’s words about how one-track-minded she’d become back then. “All roads won’t be leading to Jake again. Not now.” She pushed up from the chair. “Not ever.”

  Harper went to the fridge and peered inside, doing the same with the freezer, even though she knew the contents. There were a number of things she could throw together, but her mind was too busy. She needed comfort food. She needed something to get the feel of Jake’s hands on her body out of her head, and those damn eyes of his off long loop every five minutes. Screw dinner, it was a go-straight-to-decadence kind of day. Grabbing her keys, she left.

  • • •

  Harper never went far. The ice cream parlor up the block would do the trick, and maybe a walk along the boardwalk. Maybe the breeze off the water would blow the stupid out of her head.

  A man in a suit lurking outside the Creamery on a cell phone nodded at her as she walked in, looking weirdly out of place all starched and buttoned up in this neighborhood for this time of night. His tie was loosened, but still. Odd. Harper put him out of her mind, however, letting the smell of chocolate and roasted nuts permeate her senses.

  “Hey, Harper,” the lady behind the counter called. “Thank God you came in, girly, it’s a slow night.”

  “I’m only here to help, May,” Harper said with a wink.

  “I appreciate the sacrifice,” May said with a little mock bow.

  “So, what’s with Get Smart out there?” Harper asked, thumbing behind her.

  “He bought a sugar-free yogurt an hour ago and has been wearing out my sidewalk ever since.

  “Sugar-free yogurt?” Harper said, feeling her lip curl. “He and Christian need to get together.”

  “I know, right?” May said. “What’s the point? So what can I get for you? Because I know damn well it won’t be sugar-free.”

  “Let’s do that brownie volcano in a waffle cup,” Harper said. “With nuts. And whipped cream.”

  “Ooh, pulling out all the stops.”

  Harper let out a joyless laugh. “That kind of day.”

  “Well, this will take care of it,” May said. “Nothing like death by chocolate to fix a bad day. Well, that and getting laid.”

  “That’s not likely,” Harper said.

  “You need to get lucky,” May said, laughing as she put the brownie in the microwave.

  Well, Jake made it to third, catching her off the wall, and as slow as he slid her down his body, he could have claimed second as well with his face in her chest. He got lucky. All she got was frustrated.

  “Dessert will have to do for now,” she said with a grin, hoping her face wasn’t as glowing red as it suddenly felt.

  “You know what they say about chocolate and orgasms,” May said. “Supposed to release the same endorphins.” She gave a little wink. “But I say someone’s not doing it right.”

  It had been so long, Harper couldn’t really be sure.

  She didn’t ask May about the sale, or how it was affecting her. Part of her felt selfish about that, her crawl-in-the-corner impulse kicking in, but she was so tired of talking about it. For one blissful moment, she wanted normal.

  Strolling back along the river was so peaceful. Okay, yes, the rich chocolate and ice cream soothing her soul with fake orgasm endorphins probably had something to do with that, but she’d take it. Her dad would have a fit if he knew she was out here alone after dark, hounding her with stories about being abducted and having her boobs cut off and put in a freezer. Yeah, why that? She didn’t know. She’d have to chance being boobless, because it was her favorite time to be out. It was serene, and the city lights across the river coloring the water were just beautiful. The night was uncharacteristically dry with a pleasant breeze lifting her hair, and no sticky dead fish smell to spoil the chocolaty euphoria.

  The only noise the breeze brought was low-level traffic from the bridge, and—a man’s voice. No? Yes. There it was again, very faint. Harper frowned and glanced around, catching sight of him on the second turn.

  Suit guy. Still on his phone, and walking on the boardwalk some thirty yards behind her. Was he following her? Harper’s pulse quickened and she increased her pace from the slow stroll she’d been enjoying.

  She passed a garbage can and tossed what was left of her brownie treat, her desire for it ruined. Had he still been outside the ice cream parlor when she left? She couldn’t remember.

  “Yes, sir, I’m working on it,” she heard him say, and looked over her shoulder in dismay to see he was keeping up.

  Shit.

  Working on what?

  Was it even about her?

  Was she a paranoid loon?

  Did she just throw ice cream away for nothing?

  Half a block and she could duck into her building and lock the door behind her. Half a block. Not even that.

  And then there he was.

  Not him.

  Him.

  Her feet stumbled under her and her heart jumped a beat ahead.

  Jake leaned on the rail, looking over the water, his face lightly illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. His expression from a distance was troubled, and he still took her breath away.

  Harper glanced behind her as suit guy got closer, and then in front of her as she headed toward Jake. She realized she had no good options. The bad choice she knew; the alternative was a chance to become tomorrow’s six o’clock news story.

  Was that overly dramatic? Well, murdered women with their boobs chilling in freezers had probably thought so, too.

  “Okay, Dad, you win,” she muttered, heading for Jake as if on a mission. At the sound of her footsteps approaching, he looked sideways, and then did a double-take.

  “Harper?” he asked, standing up straight.

  “Play along,” she whispered frantically, reaching him and selling her soul on the spot. She wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face in his chest, trying not to breathe him in. It was a role. It was to save her from the boob slicer. His quick intake of breath and subsequent slow release as his arms came around her meant nothing. Nothing.

  “What’s going on?” he said into her hair.

  Don’t look up.

  She looked up.

  Into dark eyes that were once her downfall, and lips that were almost touching her nose.

  “Five o’clock, suit,” she said. “He followed me from—”

  She didn’t get to finish. One glance in the suit’s direction brought a scowl to his face and a hand up to hers.

  Lifting her chin higher, his mouth landed on hers.

  • • •

  Fuck, this wasn’t the plan. Not that there was one. But God help him, one taste of her and there was no backpedaling. No stopping. Her body stiffened as their lips met, but two seconds in and his hands in her hair, and she was molten lava under his mouth.

  It was a cover-up. A classic diversion so the asshole executive assistant who had his nose perpetually up his father’s ass wouldn’t recognize him.

  But nothing in his body believed that now. His slow, sexy kiss was met with Harper’s body melting against his. Her mouth was perfect. Hot, soft, tasting of chocolate, which only made it hotter.

  Play along, she’d said.

  She’d come to him as a cover, too, but nobody faked heat this well.

  She was as lost in the moment as him. And he needed to stop it. Before it all repeated itself.

  Dragging his mouth from hers, breathing erratically, he quickly scanned the area.

  “He’s gone,” he said, his voice raspy.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and in the low light her lips were puffy and the skin around them red from his scruff. God, he liked that. It took everything in his power not to take that mouth again. Wrong or not.

  She pushed away, her hands still splayed on his chest. “Why did you do that?”

  “Playing along,” he said, his voice as unsteady as her trembling hands.

  “Jesus.” She stepped back, then turned in a circle to f
ace him. “You’re using my own words against me? I was coming to you for help.”

  “And he’s gone,” Jake said with a sweep of his hand. “Success. You’re welcome.” Finding out why the fucking weasel was down here following her in the first place was next on his to-to list.

  “God, you’re still the same pig.” Harper’s eyes glistened with tears. “Still using anyone to get what you want.”

  “I didn’t use anyone.”

  “Really?” Harper gestured wildly. “I didn’t invite you into my mouth.”

  “Really?” he echoed. “Because I didn’t invite you either, but I don’t think either of us put up much of a fight.”

  She gave up, swiping at her eyes as she shook her head. “I’m such a fool.”

  Harper turned on her heel, stomping away as hard as she could in canvas tennis shoes. And he felt like an ass. Again.

  “Harper, wait.”

  “No, you’re right.” She turned to walk backward, holding her hands out to the world. “One day with you and I turn into an idiot. Two seconds up close and I don’t know what planet I’m on. What is it about you that makes me so stupid so fast?”

  The same thing that had the heir to a multimillion-dollar corporation, Jericho Enterprises, working in a coffee shop under an assumed name. Weren’t they a pair?

  She paused with one last look, then turned again to walk away, and something in him needed more. No! Let her walk.

  “Harper,” he called.

  She kept going. Jake blew out a breath and held out his hands, but let them fall back at his sides.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It was too simple for their history, but it was all he had. There was a bench five feet away, and he walked over and collapsed onto it, his back to her. She could just keep walking.

  It was her call. Minutes of silence passed before he heard a noise that could be her footsteps. Could also be his father’s assistant, Trent.

  “Sorry for what?” she asked from behind him, and he felt the tension drain from his bones.

  “All of it,” he said. “Then. Now. Later.”

  “There’s a later?”

  Fuck, evidently there was. He felt like she did. Barely twenty-four hours since he got that phone call about John and crossed the bridge, and he didn’t recognize himself.

  “I was an ass back then,” he said, hoping she was still there.

  There was a chuckle that didn’t sound very believable. “No argument there. Look, you’re a guy. You got what you wanted and bailed.” She laughed sarcastically. “I got over it.”

  He looked to his side. “It wasn’t like that, Harper.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “I was stupid and young and—overwhelmed.”

  “Overwhelmed by what?” she said, appearing around the side of the bench.

  Jake looked up at her. “By you.”

  “Me,” she whispered, the word barely sounding on her lips. “An eighteen-year-old girl.”

  “You. Us. My life was pretty messed up back then, and I’d never had an us before.”

  A flash of heated touches in the backseat of a borrowed car came to mind. Touches that finally led them over the edge. Sinking deep inside her hot tightness, feeling her muscles contract around him, reveling in a feeling he’d never felt during sex before, inhaling her scent and looking into her eyes as they’d come undone—was possibly the most amazing experience he’d ever had. And he’d had a few. Realizing afterward that she’d been a virgin . . . that she’d given him that . . . and then the words she said . . .

  “Neither had I.” She stared at the dark river. “It was all new and scary to me, too.”

  But you weren’t pretending to be someone else. Like I’m doing again. Right now.

  Fuck.

  “I know,” he said. “I got spooked. And I’m sorry.” Harper turned to meet his gaze, her eyes wary.

  “Because of what I said.”

  “Because I was a fool,” he said, shocked by his own words. “I’m sorry for all of it. For steamrolling you into giving me a job today,” he added.

  Harper bit back a grin and faced the water again.

  “But not for kissing you tonight.” He brought her back to face him, and her eyes held questions. Those eyes were always his downfall, but that wasn’t what kicked his ass at the moment. He’d tasted her, and he wanted to kiss her again more than any logical thought could block. “I’m not the least bit sorry for that.”

  She blinked a little fast, and licked her lips as she stood. “I need to get home,” she said, pointing toward the old stone building.

  Jake nodded. Let her go. “I’ll watch till I see a light come on,” he said. “Flick it so I know you’re okay.”

  She chuckled and walked off a few steps. “Why are you here? Where’s home?”

  Somewhere you won’t understand.

  “Greenwich Village.”

  Her eyes widened. “Nice.”

  Too nice. Was he that out of touch that he didn’t know how to downgrade enough?

  “It was my grandfather’s,” Jake said. “He left it to me.”

  She nodded. “And why did you insist on working at my shop today?”

  Jake stood and turned to face her.

  “No idea,” he said. “That’s the honest truth. But I’m pretty sure I’m showing up again tomorrow.”

  Harper’s mouth twitched, then she turned and walked off, into her building. A few minutes later, the far right window, two above the shop, blinked twice and then stayed on.

  Jake grinned, then wanted to slap himself upside the head. He had no business here. He had no business with any of this. He’d texted Frankie that he had another way home so he wouldn’t have to talk. So he could clear his thoughts. Come down to the water so he could think and get his head straight.

  How was that working out?

  His jaws clenched as he pulled his phone out and jabbed at the screen to call Marco.

  “Yes?” his faithful assistant answered. “I’ve already contacted Miriam, a historian friend of mine. You’re going to shit when you hear what I found out.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes at Marco’s long ramble. “Does she work for JE?”

  “I don’t—well, maybe on the side, why?” Marco said. “Are you trying to rain on my parade?”

  “No, I just saw Trent down here, stalking Harper like a buzzard,” Jake said. “Why would he suddenly be down here?”

  “Shit, let me call someone else,” he said. “Damn incestuous company of yours.”

  “Call on the way to Brooklyn?” Jake said. “I need a ride.”

  Chapter Five

  Jake breezed past security, took the private elevator he normally abhorred so he wouldn’t have to wait, and stepped out at the fifty-third floor like a man on a mission. A man who hadn’t graced the executive floor of Jericho Enterprises in casual clothes in probably a decade. In fact, he was surprised he wasn’t tackled at the elevator, but he didn’t care. He had another job to report to after this, and that one probably frowned on Armani.

  Boy, his life had gotten weird in the last twenty-four hours.

  Not to mention, he’d woken up with the taste of her still on his mind. That didn’t happen with women. Ever.

  “Mr.—Jericho?” an elderly staff assistant asked as he sped past her. Normally, he’d have stopped and chatted, refilled her coffee cup and made her blush. He was a firm believer in keeping secretaries happy. Their tasks might look menial to those who didn’t pay attention, but in truth he knew the big secret. That secretaries ran the world. With one keystroke or touch of a speed dial, they could make or break you.

  “Have a great day, Ann,” he called back over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to make her happy today.

  Rounding the corner through two clear glass doors, however, Jake put on his best smile for another world-runner.

  Nina.

  Nina was five foot ten inches of carved-out perfection, with dark hair and eyes and a witty littl
e mouth that would make a sailor step back. She was also his father’s personal secretary, rumored to be his personal everything, so Jake steered clear. Still—Nina needed schmoozing to get to his father.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, as she responded by recrossing her long legs. Her eyes traveled south and then north again.

  “Hey, homeless,” Nina said. “Were you robbed?”

  “I’m off this week,” he said, landing in a chair.

  “So?” she said. “That just means you come in without a tie. Or here’s a crazy thought—stay home?”

  “I’m feeling rebellious.”

  “Gee, that’s new,” she said wryly. “So’s the scruff. Please don’t tell me you came to be rebellious with him. My day already sucks and it’s still early.”

  “I just need about fifteen minutes,” Jake said. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “You only have ten, so make it count.” She flared her fingers toward the hallway behind her. “Go ahead, but if you ruin my lunch date at the Ritz I’m not responsible for the evil that befalls you.”

  “Point taken,” he said, already around her desk and down the hall. The glass and modern look gave way to wood. Everywhere. The man had a wood for wood. Something Jake understood, but not for the same reasons. Jake loved the feel, the smell, the earthy sensation of wood walls and accents, whereas his dad was all about the grandiose.

  “Like this obnoxious ass door,” he said, facing the huge solid English oak monstrosity his father had imported from some castle. Wherever it came from, Jake was sure it was missing a moat.

  “Come in, Jake,” a voice from the other side called. You’d think something that significant would be soundproof. “Don’t just stand out there breathing.”

  Jake went in, repulsed as usual by the giant ornate desk that Presley Jericho sat behind as if he were ruling the world. That impression was made even more prominent by the five-foot world globe at his left.

  “Nina gave you a heads-up,” Jake commented.

  “I don’t pay her to make coffee, son,” his dad said, sitting back from his laptop.

  Thick white hair combined with a suspiciously low wrinkle count gave him somewhat of a godly appearance. Not that Jake would dare mention that, or the next thing to decorate the office would be a cross. Wooden, of course.