Rachel stood just outside Jack’s hospital room door.

“Rach, can we just forget that question I asked you yesterday?”

She turned sad eyes on her friend. “Tom, you know I love you. You know I’d risk my life for you and you know you can always count on me as a friend and as an agent, but…”

“There’s no need to say anything else. I understand.” He reached out to run the back of his fingers down her cheek, disturbing the tears that dampened her face. “I would never want to cause you stress and I certainly wouldn’t want a woman to marry me if she was in love with another man.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words came out in a hoarse whisper, while her eyes pleaded with him to understand and not hold a grudge against her or Jack. “He didn’t pursue me. I want you to know that. The kiss started out as part of the husband/wife cover, but, but then things changed and ….”

“No need to say any more. Now you need to get in there and help get my best agent better as soon as possible. I’m going to need both of you in top shape soon since I know the scum of the world aren’t going to suddenly start to behave and play nice.”

He pulled her into a hug that lasted several seconds. She burrowed into his chest, closing her eyes and praying silently that things would work out for him to have a woman who loved him with all her heart. He deserved such a woman, but she knew she wasn’t the one. She had tried, but looking back over the months of working for Jack and then working with Tom and Jack on this case, it was obvious that she had been deluding herself about her long-term feelings for Tom.

With a hand on each shoulder, Tom gently pushed her back to arm’s length and stood staring into her eyes. She was sad that she had hurt him.

“Are things going to be all right with you and Jack? I’d hate for this to ruin your friendship, or the ability for you two to work together in the future.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. Right now, though, you have a new assignment. I need you to take care of yourself and our guy in there. Truthfully, I don’t envy you this mission one little bit,” he laughed gently. “I’ll put you on two weeks leave so you can get him up and going.”

“I only have one week of vacation on the books.” She was thankful that he was granting her vacation so she would have a week with Jack when he was released. She knew Jack didn’t have family close and she also knew she wouldn’t be very effective on the job with her thoughts constantly on Jack recuperating at home alone.

“Okay, one week vacation and one week of administrative leave due to the extreme stress of this mission.” He stood smiling down at her. “You did good, kid. For a rookie, that is.” he chuckled. “You owe me a drink in a couple weeks.” He gently touched her chin with his fist. “Stay strong and keep your chin up.”

She nodded, watching as he turned and walked away. She leaned against the wall, running the recent events through her mind, allowing the video in her brain to play the scenes against her closed lids. She could have been killed and the same went for Jack, but they had both survived. Maybe they wouldn’t be that lucky the next time, but she had the job she was meant to do and she had the man she was meant to spend her life with. Well, assuming he had really meant that kiss and the words.

She smiled as she turned to push open his door. She still had to tell him that she had been used as bait to get the two men together and that the mission was closed without his help. She would also have to tell him that the man who had caused all his injuries was dead. She knew he would have preferred to get his own large hands around the man’s neck, but the case had played out the way it was meant to end.

She also knew in the depths of her heart that despite what he might say in anger, they had been destined to meet and fall in love. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as the door closed behind her.

                                                                                       * * * * *

Tom stood at the elevators, watching as the love of his life walked from his arms into the room of the man she would, no doubt, spend the rest of her life with. His heart felt like it had been stomped on, but logically he had to admit that it would never have worked out between the two of them. Oh, he had wanted it, but he was glad that she had realized the truth of her feelings for Jack before it was too late.

As the doors to the elevator swished open, he stepped in and turned around to stare down the hall one last time. As he reached to push the bottom for the Lobby, he heard Jack’s voice thunder down the corridor.

“You what? You met with Watson without me? You could have been killed!”

Tom smiled as the elevator doors closed. He had been pretty sure that Rachel would be walking into a hornet’s nest when she told Jack about the meeting with Watson and Santos. Like Jack, he would have been furious, but like himself, he knew Jack would soon calm down and accept that Rachel had a job to do and just be thankful that she had come out of the ordeal without being injured.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. When the doors slid open, two young nurses stepped in and glanced at him before turning around and facing the doors as they closed.

He had a perfect view of the two women in their trim white pants and tops. When he lifted his eyes, one of the women was watching him over her shoulder. His shrug solicited a slow smile before she turned back to talk with her friend.

His heart thumped as he realized that he had lost Rachel, but he was already thinking about getting this woman’s phone number. Had he really loved Rachel? Yes, he finally admitted, but not in the way a husband should love a wife. He cared for her, but his sudden revelation allowed him to truly wish Rachel and Jack happiness in the future. And a half dozen kids. It would serve Jack right to have to put up with a herd of rug rats.

Tom was chuckling as the doors swished open and he followed the two nurses from the elevator. Out there somewhere in the metropolis of Atlanta was a woman just waiting to meet him.

“Let the adventure begin,” he whispered.

The nurse in front of him hesitated, then stopped and turned. “Did you speak to me?”

A slow grin spread across Tom’s face.

THE END

Oh, wow. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this story to end. It was a good one.

If you haven’t read all the chapters, now’s the time to catch up. Leave a comment to increase your chances for the prizes to be drawn… you know when — this Friday and Sunday. September 24 and 26.

Life is a constant fight between good and evil. At the
end of the day if the good guys win, it’s been a good day.

~Sandra Elzie

Tom was at his post in front of the double glass
doors as Van Buren and two of the other branch
managers stepped off the ski bus.

“Good afternoon Mr. Van Buren. Did you have a
good day skiing?”

“Yes, son, it was a mighty fine day with just a
few problems, but I think I worked them out,” he
said, glancing sideways to laugh with the others.

“Weren’t there four in your party this morning?”

Tom knew he was taking a risk in questioning the
man about Jack, but something was wrong. His
partner was out there somewhere alone.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, taking the ski carrier that
the bus driver handed him. “Newlyweds wanted to
give the upper slopes a try together,” he said,
handing the ski carrier to one of the other men.

“Take this for me, would you Ellis? I need to find
Allison and be sure she isn’t spending every penny I
have on clothes.” He slapped the other man on the
back.

“Sure thing. See you at dinner.” As Ellis headed
up the steps toward the front door that Tom held
open for him, Van Buren’s arm shot out to hold the
other man back.

“I need you with me,” he barked before turning
toward Tom. “Have my Rover brought around.”

“Yes sir.” Tom turned to pick up a phone tucked
into an alcove near the front door. After ordering the
vehicle to be brought around, Tom watched as Van
Buren was apparently giving instructions while the
other man nodded.

When the Rover arrived, Van Buren flipped
money to the young car jockey before sliding behind
the wheel, his cell phone already at his ear. As soon
as the passenger door shut, the tires spun and the
vehicle lurched forward, turning right at the
crossroad to head toward the Athletic Center and ski
lifts.

Tom barely had time to register confusion before
his cell phone rang.

“Tom, it’s Jack. Listen. I’ve broken my wrist,
but Van Buren knows something is up and he’s
headed for Rachel. She’s on the beginner slope with
Allison. Get to her.”

Tom flipped the phone shut even as he bolted
from his post, down the steps and around the corner
at a sprint. He only hoped that cutting across lawns
and between buildings would enable him to get to
the ski lifts before Van Buren could cover the same
distance on the streets.

As he neared the parking lot for the ski lift to
the lower slopes, he quickly scanned the area for the
hunter green snowsuit Rachel had worn. His eyes
passed over the group, jerking back as he saw
Rachel being escorted between Van Buren and the
other man toward the Rover. Allison was trailing
behind, her mouth moving, although Tom couldn’t
hear her obviously angry words.

He knew there would be no way to reach them
before the car pulled away, so Tom darted to the
right toward the kiosk where the resort rented out
snowmobiles.

“Charlie, I need one,” he called toward the
manager of the rentals as he jumped on the motor
and turned the key. The engine roared to life
seconds before Tom engaged the gear, and fishtailed
slightly as he twisted the handle. The snowmobile
shot out of the parking lot across the field of snow.

He knew the road took a sharp hairpin turn
about a half-mile down the road, so he cut through
the trees, ducking to avoid several limbs designed to
sweep him from his ride. When he successfully
dodged the last tree, he shot out onto a steep slope,
hoping against hope to keep the machine from
flipping end over end as he raced against time to
reach an intersecting point on the highway below,
before the Rover had covered the distance.

As he neared the two-lane highway, he glanced
off to the right, relieved to see that Van Buren was
still coming, but the distance was closing fast. If
Lady Luck were on his side, he’d get to the road in
time, if not…he refused to think of what would
happen to Rachel if he didn’t get down to the road in
time to deter Van Buren.

He twisted the throttle a little more, risking his
life in the downhill plunge. If he missed his mark, if
he hit an exposed rock, if he miscalculated in any
way during this hell-bent race to the finish, he could
easily be killed, but that was a risk he was willing to
take. Rachel would be helpless against a man like
Van Buren and he wasn’t prepared to give up on
getting his man…or being her hero.

As Tom converged on the road, he knew he
would arrive first by mere seconds. What lay down
the slope once he crossed the highway was an
unknown that he refused to consider. Priorities.

As Tom braced his body for an impact, he shot
down the last few feet of slope, pulling up on the
nose of the heavy machine to cross the snow-filled
ditch, and landed with a bone-jarring thud on the
salted asphalt. The heavy machine careened toward
the trees on the far side of the highway even as Tom
jerked on the handlebars, turning the snowmobile
into a sideways skid.

Tom heard the squeal of brakes, but only his
peripheral vision caught the large black vehicle as it
went into a spin and skidded toward the side of the
road and the snow-covered trees that stood at
attention along the highway.

Tom released his death-grip on the handlebars
as the snowmobile skidded sideways toward the
same grove of trees. Pulling his legs and arms
inward, he landed on the asphalt and executed a
tuck and roll that brought him to an abrupt stop
against the icy snow piled on the side of the road.

Without wasting a moment, he was on his feet
even as it registered in his brain that he could hear
sirens blaring as the cavalry raced up the mountain.
With his gun drawn from his hidden shoulder
holster, Tom aimed at the car as he ran, shouting
that he was FBI and for everyone to step out of the
car with their hands up.

As two other squad cars arrived, sirens died
slowly but flashing lights still swirled as the five
men converged on the Rover that was now sunk
axle-deep in the snow and leaning at an odd angle.

“Get your hands up and get out of the vehicle,”
Tom ordered. Later he would be thankful that
neither of the men in the car had been armed, and
that the Rover had not slammed into the trees.

While the police pulled Van Buren, Allison and
the other man from the Rover and put them in
handcuffs, Tom slid the couple of feet down the
embankment and pulled hard on the door to get to
Rachel.

Unsure what he would see, relief flooded his
system when he leaned over and saw her wide-eyed
stare suddenly focus in recognition. A tiny smile
touched her bloodless lips, slowly reaching her eyes
as she lunged toward the man reaching out to her.

“Are you all right?” His arms folded around her,
pulling her in close as he closed his eyes, sending up
a prayer of thanks that she wasn’t hurt and that he
had gotten to her in time. She was trembling, but as
he ran his hands up and down her back, her fears
gradually subsided, leaving her cuddled in his arms.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I was so…thank you for
coming after me,” she said, pulling back enough for
him to look into her smoldering eyes.

In the distance they could hear Allison
screaming that she hadn’t done anything wrong and
demanding that they release her even as she was
tucked into a waiting car and the door slammed
behind her, effectively silencing her protests.

Tom’s eyes never left Rachel’s face, but his body
craved so much more than holding her. Even as she
put pressure against him to pull away, he leaned
into her to place his lips against hers, capturing her
with a hand at the back of her head to deepen the
kiss.

“Hey,” called out one of the policemen. “Give the
poor girl a break, man. She was just in a car wreck
and you’re putting the moves on her.” He chuckled
as he turned toward his patrol car.

The words slowly penetrated, making Tom feel
guilty for taking what he needed without considering
Rachel. As he pulled back, he gazed down into her
face, shifting his focus to her eyes as they slowly
opened.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the lodge and get
you a good stiff drink,” he muttered, tamping down
the heat this tiny woman had ignited.

“Well, Jack, do we get to sign your cast?” Rachel
and Tom sat in front of the roaring fire in the
Presidential Suite where Jack was now sipping
brandy and grousing over not having been involved
in the takedown of Van Buren.

“Stuff it. You guys had all the fun and I got
stuck with this thing,” he said, holding up his arm,
“for the next six weeks.”

“Hey, cheer up. At least you didn’t get dead.”

Rachel punctuated her snide comment with a quick
jab of her elbow into Tom’s side.

For a moment Jack felt guilty. Here his partner
and a woman he had come to care for very much had
been in danger and all he could think about was
missing out on the kill. “Sorry guys. I didn’t mean to
be selfish. It’s just that I’ve been on this case for two
years and I was so hoping to see Van Buren’s face
and read him his rights. I really am glad you’re both
okay.”

Rachel stood, leaning over to place a light kiss
on his cheek. “We’re glad you just broke your wrist.
It could have been your neck.” She smiled sweetly.
It took just a moment to sink in before both men
started chuckling.

“So, Rachel,” Tom called after her as she walked
to the refrigerator, leaning in to pull a Coke from the
shelf. “Speaking of signing something, have you
decided if you’re going to sign the application to join
the FBI?”

She turned slowly, stopping to pop the tab on
the can as she pondered the question. “Well,
assuming I’d have to work with men like the two of
you…”

She allowed a pregnant pause to hang like a
mist over the conversation. “I’d have to say that it
didn’t take me much time to decide that my life is
too staid and dull. I think a new career is just what
the doctor ordered.” She smiled as she lifted the can
toward the two men in a salute. “To a new life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, so where does this take us now?

Are you ready for the last question? Have you answered
all the others to be eligible for a great prize?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was Jack’s injury?

A) Broken leg

B) Broken arm

C) Broken wrist

D) Broken Heart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aspen Exposé, Part Deux

Will Rachel accept Tom’s offer to join the FBI? Or will she want more from the man with the dark smoldering eyes? If she does join the FBI, will the agency ever be the same? What about Jack? Will he be the spy who’s left out in the cold? If two’s company, is three a crowd? Will Rachel turn to Tom now that Jack is incapacitated or will she try to reform her former boss? Will he pay her the $5,000 he promised her? If you need more Hot Summer Sizzle stay tuned to Petit Fours and Hot Tamales for the sequel to Aspen Exposé, coming soon.

We hope you enjoyed reading Aspen Exposé. Check back Sunday, July 5 to find out the winner of our “Group Novel” Contest.

Chapter 8

You don’t know jack.

~Anna Steffl

Rachel clicked the door’s deadbolt and secured
the chain. They didn’t want her out; she didn’t want
them in. It was a dandy arrangement.

Laptop tucked under her arm, she headed to the
bed. Imagine—she hadn’t thought to pack her set of
screwdrivers. If it was an FBI computer, it probably
had remote tracking goodies inside. Oh well, she’d
have to take her chances. What was Tom going to
do? Bust down the door? Shoot the lock?

Rachel kicked off the Manolo Bhalniks, propped
a pillow against the headboard, and nestled in.
“Okay password hacker, do your thing.” A line of
code popped on screen. “Yes. Let’s see Karen do that.
She couldn’t hack her way out of a cardboard box.”

There was a knock on the door, followed by
Tom’s velvet voice. “That was fast. Good job. Go
ahead and finish.”

Rachel sat the laptop on the nightstand, sprang
from the bed, twisted the deadbolt and opened the
door until the chain clinked taut.

Tom held his cell phone in through the gap. It
showed Jack’s computer screen. “Go ahead and
finish. Jack’s not sloppy. He wouldn’t leave his
laptop in there with you by mistake.”

“You know,” Rachel seethed, “I’m more than a
little tired of these games.”

“Can I come in?”

Between the easygoing way he flicked the phone
closed and the disarmingly earnest brown eye that
peeked in, it was hard to distrust him. A woman
could snuggle into his arms like into her favorite
overstuffed chair. He’d smell familiar, like
Thanksgiving dinner. He was the opposite of Jack,
who was sinew, steel and blue arctic sky. It would be
so easy to fall for Tom just because he wasn’t Jack.

Rachel shut the door to take off the chain, and
then opened it halfway. “Okay, you can come in, but
only if you level with me.”

“I’ll tell you what I can.”

Tom dragged a chair into the middle of the room
and positioned it so he could watch the door. Darn. It
was obvious he was going to keep his charm
professionally in place.

“Van Buren is using Mira to launder money
from his overseas shell companies,” he said, all the
laidback drawl gone from his voice. “Overseas drug
trafficking and child prostitution pays for over half
of the Mira hardware you’re sending to foreign
distributors.”

“Child prostitution? For real?”

“For real.”

Rachel’s lips tightened along with her fists.
She’d given a year of her life, working evenings and
Saturdays beyond count, to a company that paid her
with dirty money from child prostitution.

“Tomorrow night,” Tom said, “we think Van
Buren’s going to add another shell to the game. A
Thai national is coming in. Jack’s job is to put the
financials you ran on the table and sell Mira’s
impeccable accounting. We’re hoping Van Buren will
let him stick around as he details how the accounts
work. But if he doesn’t, I have his suite bugged.
We’ll get him.” He nodded to the laptop. “I was
serious that you should finish the job you started.”

Rachel unclenched her fists and shook the anger
over Van Buren’s slimy tactics from them. She sat on
the edge of the bed and balanced the computer on
her thighs. There was only one file on the hard
drive—Livingston. A document with an FBI logo
came up. It was a dossier of her personal
information. She scrolled down to an FBI
employment application with her information
already filled in. At the bottom was a
recommendation signed by an Agent Jack…“Soloski?
Is that his real name?” Soloski was a name you’d see
embroidered on a second-hand bowling shirt at
Goodwill. The Jack she knew wore cufflinks and
Italian suits.

“Code name Han. Born and raised in Kearney,
Nebraska. Accounting degree from the University of
Iowa. Law degree from Tulane. And, the best
marksman in our class.” Tom grinned. “Except for
me. You want me covering your rear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rachel said, then
returned to reading Jack’s recommendation.
Brilliant. Cooperative. Ethical. Levelheaded. Rachel
twitched her lips. He might reconsider levelheaded
after she’d bolted out of the ladies’ room. Grabbing
his balls probably counted heavily in her favor,
however. And, her kiss had made Agent Jack Soloski
a bit sloppy.

Tom stood. “Think about it, Rachel. Mira is
going down. You’ll need a job and we need your kind
of talent to bring in creeps like Van Buren. We ran a
complete on you before authorizing Jack to bring you
here. It’s twenty hard weeks of training at Quantico,
but…” Tom gave her a head to toe look. “You’re up to
it.”

Any other time Tom’s look would have set her
pulse sprinting, but Rachel was picturing herself
with an FBI badge. That was never in the plan. Her
life operated like a computer program. Nothing could
happen outside the parameters she’d written for
herself. Class valedictorian. A scholarship to one of
the most prestigious computer science schools, the
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. A
great-paying job in gorgeous Denver once she’d
graduated.

Maybe that was why she jumped at the chance
to come to Aspen with Jack. She wanted outside the
parameters for once. But the FBI was too far out. It
was a boys’ club, complete with goofy nicknames like
Han Solo. Would she always have to be pretending
to be someone different? Use people like Jack used
her? Sure, she was getting five thousand dollars for
this stint of make-believe, but she had to admit she’d
wanted something more than the money from Jack.

What did Jack want from her? To help him
make a bust and recruit her for the FBI, that’s what.
It was part of his professional shtick to tease her
with garbage about wanting to make her glow, and
then walk away.

Rachel frowned. “I don’t know, Tom.”

“Okay, but think about it.” Tom headed to the
door. “Can we count on you to play along, though,
until tomorrow night? We’re so close to busting this
guy.”

Playing along meant skiing the beginner slopes
tomorrow afternoon with Allison while Jack and Van
Buren did macho guy stuff on the harder terrain.
Sure, she could put up with Allison for a few hours
knowing that with her husband in jail, she wouldn’t
have a rich-bitch high heel to stand on. A thousand
bucks an hour was about the right compensation to
put up with Allison. Then, she wouldn’t owe Jack
anything more for the money. “I’ll play along—on
one condition.”

Tom paused in the doorway. “What’s that?”

“Jack needs to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

Tom saluted as he left. “Han is solo tonight.”

At the edge of the hill, Jack buckled onto the
snowboard.

“Let’s make this last run a good one.” Van Buren
pierced his pole through the foot of powder that had
fallen last night. He flashed a daring smile at Jack.
“Take Bell Ridge down to Shoulder of Bell. I want to
hit a few moguls before calling it a day.”

Jack nodded and smiled to himself. It would be
that son-of-a-bitch’s last run for a long, long time. By
tonight, he’d be in federal custody.

Van Buren launched himself down the hill. The
ridge run was steep, but smooth. Jack got in a good
rhythm, shifting his weight and balance to make the
short zigzags. The snow flashed so fast across his
goggles that he couldn’t see the flakes anymore, only
a haze that the goggles tinted orange.

Van Buren angled to the right side of the slope
and stopped at a gap in the trees. A double-black
diamond sign marked the Shoulder of Bell trail.

Joining him, Jack lifted his goggles. Moguls
were hell on a snowboard, and there were trees
everywhere. Still, there was nothing like taking on a
tough hill, having every bit of consciousness focused
on navigating the valleys between the bumps. It was
the ultimate way to live in the now. There were no
distractions…like Rachel. He needed a clear mind
this evening. Maybe it was good she’d locked him out
of the room last night. This thing with her was
getting out of control just at the time he needed his
wits the most. When he had her on the bed by the
wrists, it took everything he had to walk away. If
she’d have let him in the room, there was no
guessing what would have happened. He’d have
been up all night finding new ways of putting
together the puzzle of their bodies.

Ridiculous. When had the FBI penetrated that
part of him? Puzzles? Damn.

“I’ll give you a third of the way head start,” Van
Buren said. “That board is slow on moguls. Last one
down buys the beer.”

“Deal,” Jack said as he pushed his goggles down
and lifted up on his heels.

The moguls were tough—all twists and turns.
He was halfway down when Van Buren, riffling up a
wave of powder, cut into his peripheral vision. What
the hell? Van Buren was cutting in front of him—
way too close in front of him. Jack swung around
backwards to grip the board’s toe edge into the snow
for a good stop, but he kept sliding. The board hit
something, and then went airborne. Jack held his
hands out to brace the fall. He hit, something
cracked and popped, and then he rolled over and
skidded before coming to a sitting stop. He clutched
his left arm to his chest. “Shit. I broke my wrist.”

Van Buren released his bindings, slung his skis
over his shoulder, and began to trudge up the slope.

Jack peeled off his glove. His wrist was bent like
a dinner fork. Not good.

After sticking his skis in the snow in an “X”
behind Jack, Van Buren took out his phone. “I’m
calling the ski patrol.”

“No. Give me a minute. I can make it down.”

Van Buren had the phone to his ear. “Like hell
you can. I don’t want you passing out and crashing
big time. I need you patched up and ready for
tonight.”

“Fine,” Jack admitted. The pain was ricocheting
between his hand and elbow.

In a couple of minutes, two men wearing red and
black jackets with white crosses on them arrived.
“We’re going to get you down to the base and an
ambulance will transport you to Aspen Valley
Hospital,” one of them said as he pulled the rescue
sled alongside Jack.

The ski patrol wrapped Jack’s left arm to his
chest, then bundled him into the sled and secured a
yellow tarp over him.

“Do you want me to call Rachel for you?” Van
Buren asked. “Allison can take her to the hospital.”

Rachel. She was skiing with Allison. “Sure.”

“What’s her number, Jack?”

Hell. He didn’t know her cell number by heart
and his phone was in the jacket pocket underneath
where they’d wrapped his busted wrist to his chest.
Plus, the tarp bound him like a mummy. Think
quickly. “I don’t know. I have it on speed-dial.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call Allison. We’ll take care of
Rachel.”

The ski patrol clicked back into their bindings.
Van Buren knelt beside Jack. “My people tell me
you’ve never seen Rachel Livingston outside of the
office. What else have you lied about, Jack
Davenport?” To the ski patrol, he said, “He’s ready to
go.”

They started down the hill.

“I need to make a call. It’s an emergency,” Jack
roared to the ski patrolmen. He had to contact Tom.

“At the base, dude,” one of the men yelled back.

Jack thought about shouting “FBI,” but Van
Buren could be near. Jack couldn’t see anything.
Snow covered his goggles. A pain, different from the
one pulsing in his arm, shot through him. What did
Van Buren mean when he said they’d take care of
Rachel?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow! Didn’t see that coming did you? Okay, now for the question.

Question for Chapter Eight

What doesn’t Jack know:

A) How to snowboard

B) Rachel’s middle name

C) Rachel’s cell phone number

D) Who Han Solo is

Chapter 7

Never underestimate a woman who knows her way around a computer.

~Sally Kilpatrick

Rachel gave in to the slow, dreamlike
magnetism that drew her to Jack. Just one second of
those lips, she told herself, and then…

Their lips met, a slight brush, with enough
electricity to supply the entire state of Colorado. She
could almost forget she had a reason for kissing him,
a reason other than the obvious. Still, she needed
answers and she needed them now so she subtly let
her hands wander down Jack’s sinful body as he
deepened their kiss.

Focus, Rachel, focus. Finding her mark, she
grabbed him at his most sensitive spot.

“Want to play rough, huh?” His ragged voice
wound down her ear canal, causing her entire body
to implode in chills.

“No, I want some answers.” She tightened her
grip on his family jewels.

“Okay,” he said, his face a blank slate. “Just let
me know the questions before you tighten your grip.”

“Who are you and how do you know the valet?”

“Jack Davenport. Tom is an old buddy of mine.”

“You mean your FBI partner?”

“Fine, he’s my partner. Can you please let go so
we can have this conversation like civilized adults?”

She knew she wasn’t inflicting pain, rather just
the threat. “I don’t think I’m ready to let go yet,” she
said. “Because you are obviously not who I thought
you were.”

Disappointing, really. She had only agreed to
this trip because she couldn’t refuse those blue eyes.
And because she had hoped to loosen him up a little
while playing out a few fantasies of her own. She
hadn’t come here to get tangled up with his evil
twin, any of the catty women in his social circle, or to
find out she was in the middle of some kind of FBI
case.

“No, I’m exactly who you think I am. I’m just not
what you think I am.” Though desire had left his
blue eyes, it appeared sincerity had taken its place.

“And just what are you, Jack?”

“FBI. We’ve been working a long time to bring
Van Buren down on charges of racketeering and
money laundering. Mira Technologies is really just a
front for him. We’re so close. I couldn’t risk losing it
all now just because he’s got some irrational belief in
marriage as an indication of stability.”

She studied him carefully. She could always
hack his computer later to see if the story checked
out. Hell, she would have already known the
answers if she hadn’t been so caught up in getting
dressed for him and his cronies. After Allison’s
comments in the bathroom, she wasn’t sure why she
had bothered. She was a computer programmer after
all, not a socialite.

Of course, she also wasn’t the kind of girl who
went around grabbing a guy in his most sensitive
area, but it was comforting to know she hadn’t taken
self-defense classes for nothing. She relinquished her
grip, and he visibly relaxed.

“You know, that wasn’t exactly how I was
hoping that kiss would end up,” he said before
tossing her on the bed, one hand clasping her wrists
above her head.

“This is a lot closer to how I had hoped the
weekend would end up,” Rachel answered with a
nervous laugh as she looked up into hard blue eyes.
“At least before I found out you were a crazy FBI
agent. If, indeed, that’s who you are.”

He reached into his back pocket with his free
hand and drew out his FBI badge, holding it just
inches from her eyes. She studied it, but she couldn’t
tell if it was real or just a really good facsimile.
He leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek and
to whisper in her ear. “If you grab my balls again, I’ll
have to resort to drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures?” The combination of arousal
and apprehension mingled, her entire body tingling
with alarm.

He sat up and released her wrists, and she
scooted to a sitting position, bringing her hands in
front of her. She studied her enigmatic faux fiancé.
He stood and started walking to the door.

“Yeah, like having Tom hold you here at
gunpoint.” He straightened his jacket and reached
for the door.

His hand lingered on the knob, and he turned to
look at her—to look through her, really—with a
sizzling gaze. “It’s a shame, really. I was looking
forward to seducing you and sending you to the
slopes tomorrow with a noticeable afterglow.”
It was silly to harbor regrets, but Rachel did.

“Where are you going now?” She winced as the words
came out of her mouth. She sounded too much like a
jilted wife or lover.

“I’m going to the bar to join Van Buren and the
others. You are going to stay here and behave
yourself since I’m afraid you have just come down
with a very unfortunate migraine.”

She bristled at his tone. “And if I don’t?”

“You will,” he said confidently. “Because Tom is
just outside the door.”

She jumped to her feet. Her mouth opened and
closed indignantly. “You can’t keep me here!”

“Normally, I would agree with you—Bill of
Rights and all that, but all you have to do is play
your part for less than twenty-four hours and you
will be free. I’m not going to ruin this whole
operation just because of your snooping.”

“Snooping?” He hadn’t even begun to see her
snooping.

“Yeah, snooping. Play nice and see if you can get
on board. Otherwise, I suppose you’ll have to be
indisposed for the rest of the trip.”

He closed the door behind him, and she heard
him exchange pleasantries with someone who had to
be Tom. She paced the room muttering insults and
threats. Then she spied his laptop. She could always
resort to her original plan and find out if Jack
Davenport was telling the truth.

Ridiculous, really, for him to leave it here with a
computer expert. Something told her he had
supreme confidence in his abilities to keep her from
his secrets, but he had been underestimating her
thus far. She wasn’t the type of girl to sit back and
follow orders. No, Rachel Livingston was going to
find out all of Jack’s dirty little secrets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven down and two to go. Are you keeping up with all the questions and giving
us the answer in your comment? Here’s the next one.

Question for Chapter Seven

How did Rachel get Jack to tell her who he was?

A. Threaten to call security

B. Threaten his family jewels

C. Pull a gun on him

D. Pull the fire alarm

Chapter 6

When in doubt…punt.

~Ana Aragón

“There you are, sweetheart.” Jack draped his
arm around Rachel’s frozen, bare shoulders and
breathed a sigh of relief. He thought he’d lost her. If
it wasn’t for Tom—

“E-eek!” she squealed, ripping herself from his
embrace and hurtling into Tom’s chest, arms
wrapping snug around his waist. “W-what are you
doing here?”

His partner, Tom, motioned with his chin over
her curly, golden brown locks, and mouthed, “What
the hell?”

If he only knew. Jack shook his head and
whispered, “Later.” He attempted to wrest her hands
from Tom’s waist, but she held on tighter than a tick
on a beagle’s ear. Between the two of them they were
finally able to release her hawkish grip from Tom’s
doorman jacket enough to pull her away. She
turned, her eyes blazing with anger, nostrils flared.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was staring
into the eyes of a bull that had just been speared.

“C’mon, Rachel. I’m sorry—” A swift kick to the
shin and it was his turn to yelp. “Jeez, Rach.” He
hopped on one foot, rubbing his sore leg through the
woefully thin tuxedo pant leg. Damn. She broke
skin. “Stop it, will you?” Now he’d have to get the
darned pants cleaned.

Tom restrained her from behind by locking his
arms through hers, which only served to make her
angrier.

“You…you…damn you!” She aimed a swift kick
toward his groin which, given his advanced FBI
training and experience with other, similarly angry,
women, he was able to deflect, grabbing her ankle
and four-inch spiked heel a split second before she
made contact with the family jewels. She hung
suspended between the two of them, swinging her
free leg back and forth in an attempt to get free, her
dress billowing in the wind.

Jeez. And she seemed so sweet and mellow at
the office. “Listen, Rachel,” he said, in an attempt at
conciliation. “We need to get you up to our suite. I’ll
explain everything once we get there, okay?”

Her green eyes sharpened into pinpoints that
could melt steel. It took a few moments for her to
realize she wasn’t in any position to refuse and the
look of resignation on her face when she finally came
to that conclusion nearly knocked him on his butt. “I
guess I don’t have much choice now, do I?” she
whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Let me go.”

He dropped her foot and she struggled to gain
traction on the cold pavement, eventually shrugging
her arms free of Tom’s grip. She breathed in a
lungful of air, releasing it slowly as she squared her
shoulders and straightened her backbone to all fivefoot-
three inches of raging femininity. Turning from
him, to Tom, and back, her usually plump lips
firmed into a straight line, making him think of
every possible way he might soften them. A nippy
gust blew in from behind her, propelling her scent
toward him. He couldn’t help but breathe her
in…freesia. That was it. He recognized the
scent…but, damn, his former lover had never
smelled this delectable.

She shivered. “This had better be good,” she
whispered, moving quickly toward the glass door.

Tom brought Jack up to speed quickly and went
back to work. Jack followed Rachel in, unable to
keep himself from admiring her firm, round butt
above muscular thighs, sexy calves and curvy ankles
as she strode into the hotel lobby, her loose, brown
curls bouncing rhythmically against the expanse of
creamy, white skin at her back. It took every ounce
of strength he possessed to keep him from tackling
her from behind and taking her right here.

This wasn’t the thought that should be crossing
his mind, dammit. Even if Rachel Livingston was a
dream come true and he’d been lusting after her for
nearly a year. She had a cute, pixyish face,
voluptuous body, sharp wit and an intellect that
gave him a run for his money. From the moment
they crossed horns over the Wilkerson account, he
was a goner. It didn’t matter that he was engaged to
Karen; frankly, he’d given in to the engagement so
Van Buren would keep him on, so he wouldn’t blow
his cover. The sting they’d planned for two years was
nearly over; within a week, Van Buren would be
behind bars and Jack would be back in D.C., pushing
papers and getting ready for his next long-term
assignment.

As they entered the elevator, he popped the
special keycard for the penthouse level and pondered
just how much information he’d need to divulge.
Certainly enough to keep her from blowing his cover,
but not enough to endanger her life. It had taken a
lot of prodding on the part of his superiors to
convince him to put her in harm’s way in the first
place. But after receiving assurances that the
Bureau had their back and she’d be in less danger
than if she walked down H Street by herself at dusk,
he finally relented.

Rachel huffed, crossed one gorgeous ankle over
the other and leaned against the far wall of the
elevator, as far away from him as possible. Her arms
were crossed underneath her breasts, which only
served to push them up and out for his inspection.
His lusting gaze must’ve been obvious, because she
huffed again and turned away, giving him a better
view of her left cheek—both of them, actually. If only
she knew he was much more of an ass man than a
breast aficionado.

Thinking of all the possible scenarios he could
concoct on short notice, given they were now two
floors from their destination, Jack let his mind
wander. If he could somehow distract her, he might
buy himself some more time. He closed his eyes and
thoughts of possible diversions floated as he
mentally walked through the doors of the
Presidential suite. Against the floor-to-ceiling,
mirrored wall in the entry. Curled up on the plush
rug in front of the fireplace. Spread-eagle on the
granite countertop in the kitchen. In the whirlpool
tub, all sixteen jets—oh, yeah, he’d counted—at full
blast. In the two-person shower, her back flat
against the marble wall, hands locked ab—

Briiinnnggg! The bell signaling the penthouse
floor level broke into his thoughts and Jack stifled a
groan. Opening his eyes, he watched as Rachel’s
gaze moved slowly from the front of his bulging
pants, up, up, up to meet his. Her sweet mouth was
open, her cheeks flushed—and the look in her eyes
was all desire.

The doors opened directly into the hallway in
front of their suite. He motioned with his hand,
allowing her to exit first so he could adjust himself.
She let herself in with her own key. Her spiked heels
clicked ominously on the terrazzo tile floor, a
reminder he had but a few seconds to come up with a
plausible story…um…lie. She reached the entry
mirror and twirled to face him. He paced the seven
steps—who was counting?—to land within arms’
reach and stopped.

She was close enough for him to see himself
mirrored in her olive eyes, now smoky with desire,
her mouth set in a determined line. It seemed like a
lifetime before a pink tongue peeked out, moistening
the underside of her upper lip, her fingertips
reaching out to caress the day-old beard at his
cheek.

He pulled her into his arms as her scent
enveloped him.

Well, well, well. This was his lucky day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for dropping by. And now for the question.

Question for Chapter 6

What is Jack Davenport’s real profession?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stay tuned next week for Chapter 7

Chapter 5

There’s a fine line between “ignorance is bliss” and “knowledge is power.” I have to wonder where exactly I fall along that line.

~Tami Brothers

Rachel blew out an irritated sigh as she ducked
into the ladies’ rest room. Who knew acting could be
this draining? She’d originally doubted Jack’s claim
that he wanted his personal life to look stable in
front of the board. After the last hour of being ogled
like a cow at the state fair while he paraded her
around the room, she didn’t doubt that claim any
longer. In fact, she had to marvel at Jack’s
ingenuity.

At first she’d felt honored and a bit dazzled that
he’d asked her. She knew the usual women he dated
were gorgeous model types. Being placed in this
category would do wonders for any woman’s selfesteem.
In fact, she’d almost convinced herself his
intentions couldn’t be all that bad.

Now, after winning the best in show award from
the board, she could see why Jack had chosen her.
She was safe. Not only was she unlike the sexy,
slinky, all-I-can-get-from-a-man kind of woman Jack
normally went for, but she could actually carry on an
intelligent conversation. She knew this business,
and, unlike most of the trophy wives she’d met
tonight, she was able to discuss the ins and outs of
Mira Technologies like a pro. Those qualities had
apparently given the impression that Jack wasn’t in
this relationship just for the physical aspects of it,
exactly what Jack had planned to accomplish.

Hearing a noise at the door, Rachel stepped into
one of the bathroom stalls to keep from having to
jump back into character. As soon as she heard the
voices, she was thankful she had.

“Did you see that dress? Who in their right mind
would pair that fabric with those shoes? Karen
would die if she could see what he’s trying to pass off
as her replacement.”

“I’m not going to be the one to tell her, but I
hope I’m there when she finds out.” The giggles that
followed this comment were like nails on a chalk
board as they clawed up Rachel’s spine. “Hand me
that lipstick.”

“Sure. Can you imagine him bringing his
secretary? You’d think he would have picked better,
though. A plain Jane if I ever saw one. I can’t believe
I’m stuck entertaining her tomorrow.”

“Boring. I’m glad it’s you and not me.”
These last words were barely audible as the two
women left. Rachel let out a breath she hadn’t
realized she’d been holding as she slowly stepped out
of the stall. What the hell had she been thinking?
She did not have to take this kind of crap for
someone who was turning out to be the kind of man
her mother warned her about.

She had to get out of here. Casually glancing up
and down the hallway as she stepped out of the
ladies’ room, she couldn’t stop herself from taking a
quick peek into the dining area. Thankfully, Jack
was engrossed in a conversation with one of the
board members.

Hoping to make a clean escape, she strolled to
the lobby and gritted her teeth when she found the
front desk empty. She needed to contact a taxi to
take her into town.

A familiar giggle far too close for comfort had
her looking for a quick escape. “Where did you get
those?” Allison and her cohort were admiring
another woman’s earrings.

Pushing open the glass front doors, the frigid
cold blasted her as she stepped behind one of the
large wooden pillars that gave this resort its rustic
feel. Hugging her arms around her body in an
attempt to hold in some heat, she peeked inside the
building.

“Ms. Livingston?”

Spinning around, Rachel couldn’t help but curse
her new Manolos as one of the four-inch spikes
skidded on a patch of ice. Squeezing her eyes shut,
she waited for the impact. Instead of cold concrete,
she let out a strangled yelp when a pair of solid arms
stopped her fall. Eyes flying open, she found herself
staring into the warmest pair of chocolate brown
eyes she’d ever seen.

What the heck? Why was her heart racing and
her previously freezing limbs suddenly tingling with
a strange sensation spreading its poison through her
body? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she
was attracted to this man. But that would just be
plain fruitcake crazy. He could be a serial killer.

“Ms. Livingston, are you okay?”

Okay, so the serial killer knew her name. What
did that mean? “Um. I think…I mean, yes…I am.”

A sexy grin drew her attention away from his
eyes. Oh boy. If she thought his eyes did strange
things to her, then those lips were downright
causing her heart to go into cardiac arrest.

“I‘d better put you down then. Your friends
might come looking for you and I’m sure you don’t
want them seeing you fraternizing with the help.”

Allison! That girl was really starting to tick her
off. The cold suddenly returned with a vengeance as
Rachel’s current dilemma came crashing back to the
forefront. Glancing in through the glass windows,
she saw the empty lobby and breathed a sigh of
relief. “Those women are definitely not my friends.”

“Really?” He asked this as he settled her back on
her feet, his hands remaining on her arms as she
steadied herself.

“Definitely not. Unfortunately, I would be one of
those people they consider the help.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that, especially since
you came in with Mr. Davenport.”

Rachel glanced at him and it was then she
realized this mystery man was the attendant who
had taken Jack’s keys when they first arrived. That
ruled out serial killer. Maybe.

Shaking her head, Rachel took a step back,
immediately missing the warmth from the man’s
hands when they fell away. “Yes, well, looks can be
deceiving.” She shot another look at the lobby and
groaned. Still empty. Turning to the Matthew
McConaughey look-a-like, she attempted a smile.

“You wouldn’t know how I might catch a taxi, would
you?”

“You’re leaving us?” The man frowned as Rachel
nodded. “If you wait a moment, I could get Mr.
Davenport and have him take you—”

“No!” When the man raised his eyebrows, Rachel
realized she’d just shouted the word. “Please don’t
interrupt Mr. Davenport. I’d rather he didn’t know.”

“This is quite sudden.”

Rachel shot another glance into the lobby as she
mumbled under her breath, “You don’t know the half
of it.”

“Listen, Rachel. I need to talk you out of leaving
right now.”

The sound of her first name caught Rachel’s
attention and she turned back to the attendant.

“Excuse me. Do I know you?”

“Tom Gardner. Now you know me, so I think you
and I need to talk.”

The sudden chill that raced up Rachel’s spine
had nothing to do with the cold Aspen night or the
instant attraction she was feeling for this perfect
stranger. What caught her attention was the serious
note in the man’s voice and the gold badge he was
holding up. A sense of dread washed over her as she
wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Question for Chapter 5

For what fashion faux pas, did Karen criticize Rachel?

a) big hair

b) costume jewelry

c) wrong color for evening

d) wrong fabric paired with her shoes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for stopping by today. Be sure to answer the question in your comment.

Chapter Four

~ by CiCi Barnes

Rachel twisted and turned in front of the mirror,checking every conceivable angle of her body. Three-quarter-length sleeves of her red linen dress hid her upper arms and a brand new pair of Spanx contained her belly and love handles. Her cleavage, thanks to the plunging, underwire, push-up bra, stood ready to attract attention. Dazzling white teeth heightened her smile.

She did one more turn, catching the slim view of her backside and the shine of her perfectly coiffed hair. Why waste a good spa treatment and the coming sumptuous meal? Tomorrow was as good as today.

She sauntered into the room in her new four-inch Manolo Blahniks, hoping she’d meet Jack’s high standards. Even though she shouldn’t care.

Jack stood, his back to her, in the middle of the room, deep in conversation on his cell phone.

“Yes, Marshall, that sounds like a plan. We’ll talk about it tonight. Yes. Yes.” He flipped the phone closed and turned. The device immediately clattered to the floor.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while his eyes pinned her to the wall behind her.
Holding her breath, she tried to decide if his reaction was good or bad.

“You … you look great!”

His tone said he never expected her to come close to great. To be honest, she didn’t expect it either.

“Thanks. The same to you.” His dark suit and smoky tie against a crisp white shirt heightened his heart-stopping good looks.

He leaned over to retrieve his phone then approached her with bent arm. She slid her hand to the crook in his elbow and braced herself for the evening, not sure she could make it through without blurting out something that would blow this whole charade. Jack’s smile melted her thought. Oh, he was good. Now she wasn’t even sure where the charade began and ended.

Downstairs, the maitre d’ ushered them through a maze of elegantly appointed tables to a window overlooking the slopes. Marshall Van Buren hadn’t arrived yet.

“Champagne,” Jack said to the waiter.

Rachel tried to hide the quick cringe. Great. Now she was in trouble. Champagne made her giggle and a giggling school girl was not the impression she wanted to give tonight. Too much hung in the balance. She needed to decifer the different faces that made up
Jack Davenport. Resisting the one she currently
witnessed would be the biggest challenge. The one
that looked at her as if she were a chocolate bar and he a starving man. The one that left her knees weak and her nerves on edge.

Just this morning she was hoping the ‘business’ weekend would turn into what that look promised. But after the run in with Marshall Van Buren, she wasn’t so sure she wanted anything to do with the vindictive Jack she’d just seen back in their hotel room. He was definitely not the man she’d been drooling over for months. Now she wondered who this guy actually was and if, after this crazy weekend, she would have a job when she returned home.

“Smile, Rachel. We’re on.” The hushed voice drew her attention away from the magnificent view outside the windows. Jack rose from his seat as Marshall and a woman who looked half his age walked up.

“Allison. Nice to see you again.”

Rachel pasted on a smile, trying to look the part Jack hired her to play as the other woman embraced him. Not really sure what was expected of her, she stood. The move allowed her to see the covert squeeze Allison gave Jack’s backside before pulling back. The
woman was exactly Jack’s type: tall, lithe, blonde, and
with boobs spilling out of a dress obviously not made
for that particular size. The look that quickly passed
between them spoke of a familiarity that was far more
than just a friendly greeting.

“Jack, you devil. How have you been? I can’t believe you haven’t gone completely mad with all this cold.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” The easy jovial tone was back and Rachel couldn’t help but feel her skin crawl at the switch.

“If you’re an Eskimo maybe. Why don’t you come back to Texas where you belong?”

“Because he’s too ambitious for Texas, sweet thing.” Marshall spoke with his usual easy tone; one that Rachel had come to expect in the two years she’d worked with Mira Technologies and the numerous times she’d seen the man during one of his surprise inspections of the Denver offices. It was this good-natured familiarity which made her doubt Jack’s earlier comments about the man. “I can’t believe you two love birds beat us down here.”

At this, Jack wrapped a possessive arm around her back and tugged her to his side. “You know me, Marshall. I get things done fast when I’m on deadline.”

Instantly, bells started ringing in Rachel’s head as the man beside her smirked. She tried to pull back a few inches, but he only tightened his grip.

“That’s why he’s so good at his job, right Marshall?” If anyone else had been watching the perky blonde, they would have thought she was passing on a sincere compliment. But the flash of fury and the silent warning Allison shot Rachel left a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

What had she gotten herself into? Not only was Jack turning out to be the smarmy pick-up artist one tries to ignore in a bar, but now she was now smack dab in the middle of a married woman staking aclaim that she wanted no part of. Heaven help her.

Chapter 2

Kissing her left something to be desired—the rest of her.

~Tamara DeStefano

Rachel peered through the windshield, shading
her eyes from the brilliant Aspen sun. The resort, a
pristine white colonial, boasting fluted columns and
a wide wraparound porch, complemented the wintry
landscape. Snow-capped mountains and a cloudless,
cerulean blue sky formed the perfect backdrop. The
inspiring scene made her think of the old Bing
Crosby movie, Holiday Inn.

Jack jogged around the front of his black
Mercedes and opened her door before she could set a
finger on the handle. A crisp gust of wind blew her
long brown hair around her face. She pulled the
strands from her lips and accepted his help out of
the car.

His gloveless hands were surprisingly warm, his
palms rough and callused against her smooth skin.
She knew he worked out in the corporate gym on the
fifth floor everyday. Even if she never saw him come
off the elevator with his gym bag slung over his
shoulder, she’d know he lifted weights. A custom silk
dress shirt did little to disguise his ripped shoulders,
cut pectorals or V-shaped lats. She nearly purred out
loud just imagining the chiseled muscle beneath the
fabric.

He smiled down at her as he wove his fingers
through hers and led her onto the curb. She raised a
brow. He was playing the part of the dutiful fiancé
like a champ. She wondered what it might be like to
really be this man’s girlfriend. His wife? His lover?
Her mind wandered with the tempting possibilities
until the valet distracted her.

“Good to see you again Mr. Davenport. We’ve got
your suite ready and waiting.” The grinning
attendant accepted Jack’s keys.

“Thanks.” Jack tipped the man and looked at
Rachel. His humorous smirk lent an appealing
playfulness to his normally tensed features. “You
ready for this?”

Her smile matched his, her chin tilting at a
mischievous angle. “Are you?”

Wait, did his sapphire eyes just spark
with…desire? Or had that been a trick of the
afternoon sun? Come on Rachel. You’re seeing things
babe.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He took her hand once more
and led her up toward the glass double doors. “This
should be one interesting weekend.”

You can say that again.

The enormous receiving room bustled with
guests and staff. Many of the visitors stood in line at
the sprawling granite topped service desk, waiting to
check in or out. Others lounged in overstuffed sofas
flanked by potted palms and polished wood
occasional tables. The focal point of the elegantly
appointed space was an impressive stacked stone
fireplace. Its yawning interior cracked and snapped
with cozy flames dancing over glowing logs. Guests
nearest the hearth sat in damask wing chairs,
blowing the steam from china mugs or relaxing with
a book. Rachel’s attention rose heavenward,
following the hand-laid expanse of river rocks. The
decorative stones extended maybe thirty feet above
the mantel until they ended at a glass paned
cathedral ceiling. The skylight bathed the entire
room in golden sunshine.

Rachel opened her mouth to comment on the
beauty of the hotel, but Jack grabbed hold of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands on her shoulders, an
odd expression on his handsome face.

Instead of asking what he could possibly be
sorry for, Rachel squeaked when his mouth covered
hers. His lips were soft, warm, and devastatingly
sweet. At first she froze, but the kiss, his
intoxicating masculine scent, the feel of his hard
body, melted her shock as effectively as the spring
sun would soon melt the accumulated snow outside.

The rigid framework of her skeleton suddenly
lost its ability to keep her upright. Had her bones
turned to gelatin? Thankfully, his arms held her
tight, pressing her breasts against his cable knit
sweater, engulfing her in a sturdy cocoon. If it
weren’t for his embrace, Rachel was sure she would
have collapsed onto the floor, a gelatinous heap of
hyper-aroused nerve endings.

But before she could really get into the kiss,
Jack broke it off and stepped aside. He leaned into
her, his warm breath against her ear. “Follow my
lead,” he said in a husky whisper.

Huh? What did he just say? Where am I? What’s
my name? Rachel fought to regain her composure
and halt her near fatal carnal coronary, but before
she could do any of that someone joined them.

“Davenport! How the hell are ya?” The man took
Jack’s hand and shook it like a maraca. Rachel
immediately recognized his distinguished face.
Marshall Van Buren, head honcho, big kahuna,
main brain behind Mira Technologies’ European
division and top dog heading the company’s board of
directors. The multi-lingual Texas transplant
blended with the Japanese, the Spanish and the
French like a native. His eternal good humor didn’t
hurt his popularity either.

“Doing well, Marshall,” Jack answered with a
smile of his own.

“And this little lady must be your better half,”
he said, looking down at Rachel. “Glad you’re finally
settling down, Jack. The company needs stability
inside and out. A loving wife gives a man purpose,
don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do,” Jack answered while gently
squeezing her hand.

“Good, good. Hate to rush off, but I have to get
going. Promised my wife I’d help her unpack.” Van
Buren turned, but then hesitated. “You two
lovebirds will be joining everyone for dinner this
evening, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jack assured him.
Marshall smiled, nodded at Rachel with a wink
and then walked away.

Jack turned slowly toward her. “I’m sorry I
grabbed you like that. I saw him coming and just
acted on impulse. Thank you.”

Rachel shrugged off his words, waving a hand in
the air. “Don’t mention it,” she said as if he’d simply
borrowed her pencil instead of kissing her senseless.

“I think you’re gonna earn every penny of that
five thousand dollars this weekend,” Jack said,
leading her toward the wide stairs.

Rachel smiled. You have no idea.
Question for Chapter 2
How many languages can Marshall Van Buren speak?

Let us know what you think. Comment and answer the above question to stay in the running for a prize at the end of the book. Stay tuned next week, May 17, for Chapter 3.