His Unforgettable Fiancée (13 page)

“Uh, sure.” Sierra looked shell-shocked. As did the men, to a lesser degree.

Jackson came back and reclaimed her hand. As he led her through the archway, he tossed a final comment over his shoulder. “Grace’s number is in there. If anyone needs me they can call her number.”

* * *

Fury fueled Jackson’s pace into the elevator and then to the front desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” A young man dressed in the dark blue-and-black hotel colors greeted him.

“Do you know who I am?” Jackson demanded.

The young man’s eyes widened as if he’d been presented with a sudden pop quiz. He cleared his throat. “Of course, Mr. Hawke. It’s good to have you back with us.”

Jackson nodded. “I’d like two keys to the penthouse suite.” He drew Grace forward. “This is my guest, Grace Delaney. She is to be treated with respect. Anything she asks for is to be charged to me.”

“Of course. Welcome, Ms. Delaney.”

“Thank you.” Next to Jackson, Grace tensed. She twisted her hand in his seeking freedom.

He held on. He always held on.

“You need to calm down,” she murmured softly when the clerk looked away to deal with the keys.

“I’m fine.” He seethed with indignation on her behalf. She’d done nothing but help him and those self-satisfied blowhards upstairs treated her like a money-grubbing groupie.

“No, I’m fine,” she argued. “
You
are overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel.” Pain spiked as the high emotions sent the blood pounding through his head. He didn’t care. Bring on the hurt. He wouldn’t allow Grace to be disrespected. His so-called entourage better get behind the notion real quick or they’d be looking for new jobs real soon.

“Here you go, Mr. Hawke. Is there anything more I can help you with?”

“Thank you, no.” With keys in one hand, her hand in the other, he headed back to the elevator and the shops down below but changed his mind halfway there and went for the front door instead. He’d had enough of this fishbowl.

A valet immediately appeared. “Hello, do you have a ticket?”

“No.” But Jackson automatically patted his pocket, which reminded him he held the keys. He dropped one in his pocket and handed the other to Grace. “Just bring something around,” he said.

“Excuse me, sir,” The valet, a man in his late twenties with sideburns and a goatee, protested. “You need a ticket. Or would you like a taxi?”

Great. Just when he counted on his identity to work for him, he gets the one valet who doesn’t know who he is.

“Mr. Hawke.” The concierge bustled up. His name tag read R. Schultz. “I have this, Pete. What can we do for you, sir?”

Finally. “I have vehicles here, right?”

“Yes, sir.” The robust man took the question in stride. “You have six vehicles housed here in a private section of the garage.”

Six? Jackson figured he had something besides a motorcycle, but six? What did he do with six vehicles? Never mind, he didn’t even want to think about that.

He nodded for the concierge’s benefit. “Have something brought around, would you?”

“No preference, sir? Perhaps the Ferrari or the Hummer?”

“Something simple, please,” Grace spoke up. “Mr. Hawke isn’t feeling himself this afternoon.”

Jackson’s neck twitched. He dropped Grace’s hand. He didn’t care to have his condition advertised to the world. Something he’d let her know once they were alone.

“Of course.” Schultz waved Pete over and passed on the request. “Your car will be right here. I hope you feel better soon, sir.”

“Thank you.” Jackson gave him a generous tip. And when Pete pulled up in a sporty BMW, Jackson tipped him well and prepared to slide behind the wheel.

“Jackson.”

Hearing his name, he paused to see Jethro striding toward him. His associate extended a slim leather wallet toward him. “If you’re shopping, you’ll need these. Sierra had your cards replaced.”

Jackson accepted the wallet, nodded and slipped into the driver’s seat. He wasted no time putting the car in gear and pulling away from the hotel.

“There was no need to mention my health.” He gritted out between clenched teeth as he pulled out on Las Vegas Boulevard known the world over as The Strip.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t looked like you were about to explode.” She adjusted the seat belt over her middle. She stared straight out the windshield, her profile perfectly capturing her mood with the proud jut of her chin.

“Someone needs to be upset over how you were being treated. I won’t have them disrespecting you.”

That brought her head around along with the full force of her ire. “I told you I can handle myself. It may not have looked like it back there, but I won that skirmish, and you wiped it all out with your stupid comment about going shopping.”

“Don’t call me stupid. I’m a genius, after all.” Being a billionaire was hard work, so many elements to juggle. The money was good, but sometimes he wished he could go back to being JD.

“I didn’t call you stupid. I said your comment was stupid. There’s a difference.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.” He inched the car along, overshadowed by the marble columns of Caesar’s Palace on one side and the Eiffel Tower on the other. “I heard them all but call you a gold digger.” He gave her a brief glance. “You’re important to me. They’re not.”

“Yes, they are,” she said with exquisite gentleness. “You just don’t remember them right now. And yes, they want to protect you. Were they out of line? A little. Was I insulted? No.” She waved her hand at him saying, “Billionaire,” and then at herself continuing, “Peon. What are they supposed to think?”

“That I can take care of myself. That I have the intelligence to choose a companion I can trust.”

There was a beat of silence as she did him the courtesy of not mentioning the woman who stabbed him.

“Okay,” he conceded, “so they may have a small reason for concern.”

She laughed, a soft chuckle that invited him to join in the fun. “See, you are a smart man. Please tell me we aren’t really going shopping.”

“Yes, we are. Unless you have a ball gown tucked away in that duffel bag of yours.”

“Uh, no.” He felt her studying his profile. “Why would I need a ball gown? Because of the gala? I’m okay. I have the black dress you bought.”

“You can’t go in the black dress.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful dress.”

“And you looked beautiful in it. But didn’t you see the posters at the hotel? They showed everyone dressed up in monkey suits and long gowns. You might ordinarily get away with wearing the black dress, but you’ll be my date so you’ll have to wear something spectacular.”

“Humph.” She settled back in her seat. “The things I do for you. Well, you’re not buying it.”

“Actually, I am.” She could argue all she liked, he was firm on this.

She huffed. “We’re not going through this again.”

“Nope. Because as you said, you’re doing this for me. That means I pay.”

“I can afford my own clothes.”

“I can afford it more.” He sent her a quick, emphatic glance. “Resign yourself, Grace. I’m not letting you pay for anything more while you’re helping me. At the very least I can cover your costs.”

She stared out her window, tapping on her armrest. “I could point out your friends would then be right about me.”

“Come on, Grace, don’t do that.” He rolled his neck, working on the tension building there.

“Instead I’ll ask, why is it so important to you?”

He spotted a billboard advertising a mall in Caesar’s and maneuvered a U-turn while he considered how to answer her. Instinctively he sought to protect himself, then he remembered she’d been his advocate before he knew he needed help. She was his one constant since losing his memory.

Bottom line, he trusted her.

He waited to answer until after he left the car with the valet and led her inside the mall.

“I have so little control over anything right now. My memory is shot. I’m supposed to be a genius, yet I feel as though it takes forever to process anything.”

She looked ready to protest but he’d heard her argument enough times to know what she’d say. So he shook his head and cut her off. “I know it’s the concussion, but it’s still my reality.”

“I know it’s tough.” She stopped, forcing him to come to a halt, forcing him to face her. The compassion in her blue eyes almost undid him. “Time will help. It’s really only been a few days.”

“On top of everything else, I’m a billionaire and I live in a hotel. There’s nowhere I can go, nothing I can do where I’m not recognized. And if that’s not enough, I have an entourage standing by to critique my every move.”

Invading his space, she cupped his face in her hands and read him. He stood still under her intense regard, but it took an effort. Finally she nodded and surprised him by brushing her soft lips across his cheek. He almost missed what she said next. “You need to give yourself a break.”

She stepped back and swiped at his cheek where her lips had rested. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Suddenly he fought a minor battle between pulling his head away to keep her from brushing the kiss away and the desire to lean into her touch. “You can put your lips on me anytime you want. The professional standard is yours, not mine.”

“And it’s a good standard.” With her hands on her hips, she seemed to waver, then set her chin. “Back to my point. You need to relax, not take everything so seriously. Remember, you chose not to tell anyone about your memory loss. If you want to change your mind, you can. People would understand.”

“No.” Because she’d opened the door to it, he leaned down and kissed her silky cheek, inhaling her clean, orange-blossom scent. The tension coiled deep in him eased a little more, allowing him to breathe freely. He linked his fingers with hers and started walking again. “The only thing worse than being stared at would be being stared at with pity.”

“Compassion and empathy are not pity.”

“Yes, they are.”

“You could tell your royal guard. Much of their protective posturing was because they care about you.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “They seem decent enough. But I’m still peeved at them for their treatment of you.” He spied a boutique with evening wear in the window and veered in that direction. “I’d have to know them better first.”

“You really don’t need to worry over every little move, every little detail. Letting your staff believe we’re involved was a brilliant move. What they don’t attribute to your concussion, they’ll attribute to your infatuation.”

“Ah, about that—”

“Don’t pretend you came up with the idea on the spur of the moment. You had it planned out before Clay and Jethro ever showed up.”

He shrugged. He should have known she’d figure it out. “A romance allows us easy access to each other without anyone questioning it.”

“You could have discussed it with me. Whoa.” Grace caught sight of their destination, of bold colors and daring necklines of the dresses in the window and dug in her heels. “Not this place. It looks expensive. Let’s try one of the department stores.”

He tugged her forward. “I like this place. I can afford expensive.”

“But I probably won’t have occasion to wear the dress again. Just because you can afford expensive doesn’t mean you should waste your money.”

“Nothing spent on you is wasted.” He pointed to a dress in the window. “The red would look stunning on you.”

She bit her bottom lip as she studied the gown, her gaze slowly turning wistful.

“Let’s see if they have your size.” He drew her inside.

The place smelled nice, like a beautiful woman. It was well lit and spacious. Most of the merchandise was modeled by mannequins for a full three-dimensional effect. An older woman in a black suit came forward to greet them. She displayed no sign of recognizing him and he relaxed.

“Hello, I’m Eileen. What type of occasion are you shopping for?” she asked.

“We’ll be attending the Hawke Foundation Gala for Displaced Youth,” Grace responded.

“Oh, yes.” Eileen nodded. “We’ve sold several gowns to people attending. It sounds like it’ll be a lovely event. And for such a worthwhile cause. Wait, that’s tomorrow.” Her eyes went wide, but she smiled. “That just means we work harder.”

“We want to see the red dress in the window.” Jackson got down to business.

“I don’t know, Jackson,” Grace vacillated, “it’s so extravagant. I don’t think I could pull it off.”

“My dear,” Eileen enthused, “the dress would be striking with your dark hair and light skin. It just came in today, and I know it won’t last long.”

“Try it on,” he urged Grace. The longing in her eyes told him what she wanted better than her mouth did.

There she went, chewing her lip again, but she gave in. “Okay, but let me look around. Maybe try on a few simpler dresses, too.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.” He dropped into a chair in a seating area set up in the middle of the store. Let her have some fun. If he had his way, they’d be leaving with the red dress. “Oh, Eileen, she’s not to know the cost of anything.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I
WANT
TO
APOLOGIZE
for the third degree we put you through yesterday.” Sierra said as she sipped her second cup of coffee. Behind her the Las Vegas strip dazzled the senses.

“I understand.” Grace responded.

The two of them sat at the dining room table. The counter between the kitchen and dining room held a full breakfast buffet. The men had just left for a morning meeting and had taken Jackson with them.

He’d brushed them off completely yesterday. Mostly her fault. After they finished shopping, she decided he could use a break, so she directed him east to Hoover Dam. He relaxed on the drive. As she hoped, being in control of something— even a vehicle—bolstered his floundering confidence. When she suggested they take the tour, he jumped on the chance. He’d been as excited as a child, and as inquisitive. He’d loved it. He’d been in a much better place when he got home last night.

“It isn’t personal.” Sierra assured her.

“It’s very personal,” Grace corrected her. “But I get it. He’s been away and the last gal he was seeing hurt him.”

“She did, more than he knows.”

“What do you mean?” Grace pushed her plate away and reached for the last of her coffee.

Sierra studied her for a moment obviously calculating how much she should share. “I don’t know what to make of you.” She confessed. “You’re nothing like the women Jackson usually chooses. He likes tall, beautiful and dim.”

“Really?” Surprise sent Grace’s eyebrows rising. “I would think he’d get bored with dim rather quickly.”

“Oh, he does,” Sierra assured her. “But he says he wants to be able to relax when he’s with a woman, not talk.”

“Hmm.” Grace decided she preferred her version of Jackson.

“Right?” Sierra demanded as if she’d been awaiting validation of her opinion. “Okay, dim is probably overstating it. And in all fairness, next to him most people fall short on the IQ range.”

“Perhaps it’s a form of self-defense for him. Maybe dim—for lack of a better word—equates with lack of calculation. So he feels he can trust their emotions more.”

Sierra stared at her for a moment. “I never considered that, but you may well be right. Not that he gives his trust. He’s the most guarded man I know. And the other three aren’t far behind. I understand the foster care shuffle will do that to you.”

“The four of them are lucky they found each other,” Grace stated.

“Yes, they were all in the same house late in their teens. A good home run by an older couple known for taking on tough cases. They became a family. I met them in college, except Clay, who joined the marines. He joined them in the business later, after it was more established.”

“I was a military brat,” Grace told her. “So I know how hard it is to pack up and leave the familiar for the unknown. You learn not to expose yourself to the hurt of leaving friends behind by putting up guards.”

“Yes. It’s created a bond between them that won’t be easily broken. But the wealth they’ve accumulated hasn’t made relationships easy, especially for Jackson. Being a billionaire always raises the question of whether the woman is with him for the man or the money. His reticence is as much self-preservation as it is habit.”

“But Vanessa got to him.”

“Yes, and by hurting him physically she messed with his mind. Any emotional advancement he’d made in the past few years was shot to heck. He went off by himself while the police investigated and we didn’t see him for weeks. We’ve been worried.”

“It must have been traumatic. Some alone time is probably just what he needed.”

“Obviously. He seems happy. I’ve never seen him be with anyone like he is with you. I really don’t know what to make of it.”

“And how is that?”

“Open. Accessible. He doesn’t generally allow his companions in the penthouse. He has a suite on a lower floor he uses when he’s keeping company.”

Did he? Interesting. No wonder his inner circle was so freaked-out.

“I wouldn’t make too much of it.” Grace downplayed the importance for Sierra’s sake. “We’ve been through a lot together the past few days. When the novelty wears off, I’ll be on my way and things will get back to normal.”

Sierra wagged a finger at Grace. “That would make the guys happy. But I’m not so sure it would be for the best. I think you’re good for Jackson.”

“Hmm. And what about you? Who’s the guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t be telling me all this if you didn’t have romance on the mind. Who are you on the fence about?”

Flustered, Sierra tried to wave Grace off. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“But you want to.” Grace prompted her. “Who is he, a coworker, friend of a friend? No, then they could champion him. Someone you met at an event?” Grace continued to guess. “Or through work?” Ah, a blush. “That’s it. Not a coworker then, but maybe a vendor?”

“Okay, you got me.” Sierra tried to hide a smile. Oh, yeah, she was in serious crush mode. “He works for the city. He’s in charge of juvenile activities. We’ve been working together on the foundation gala. We’ve had coffee a couple of times. He seems really nice.”

“And you’re wondering if he’s interested in you, your money or your connections?”

Eyes wistful Sierra nodded. “It’s so hard to know when your emotions are engaged whether you’re being played or not.”

“So check him out,” Grace suggested. “You have the resources. As I know from experience.”

“I couldn’t.” Sierra got fidgety. “The reports we draw are pretty inclusive, because we deal in large amounts of money on business deals, and this is a highly competitive field so we want to be sure of who we’re hiring. But this is personal. I don’t want to violate his privacy in that way.”

“So don’t run a report. Do a social search.” Grace got up to get her computer from the living room. She set it on the table and pulled up the biggest social media platform on the internet. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, we can’t do this.” Sierra moved her chair closer. “We shouldn’t do this, should we?”

“We should. A woman needs to be careful in this day and age. A man, too, as Jackson’s experience shows.”

Sierra gave the name Nick Collins. Grace typed it in.

“This takes patience,” Grace explained as she clicked through pages, cut and pasted information.

Sierra leaned forward to read better. A few minutes later, Grace handed her a report that held public details of his career, community involvements and relationships. “It’s by no means a comprehensive report, but you’ll have a good sense of who he is.”

“Obviously he has some issues.” Disappointment filled Sierra’s voice. “This was very helpful, Grace. You’re easy to talk to.” Sierra set her coffee cup aside. “No wonder Jackson and Ryan like you so much.”

More than surprised by that, Grace had to smile. “Ryan likes me?”

“Oh, yes. You stood up to him. Presented your arguments as if you didn’t care if he accepted them or not, and got Jackson to agree to Dr. Wilcox’s examination without putting up a fight. Ryan was quite impressed.”

“Really?” Surprising, but Grace would take it. If Ryan liked her, all the better for Jackson. This whole situation was hard enough on him. He deserved any break he could get.

“Really. And that’s not easy to do. Well, I’ve wasted enough time on this.” Sierra stood and gathered her dirty dishes. “I have to get to work. Thanks for the help. If you’re interested, I have friends who would pay for the same info.”

“Sure. I’m happy to help.”

Sierra nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks.”

Sierra carried her dishes to the kitchen. “Don’t worry about the cleanup,” she advised. “I’ll let housekeeping know we’re done.” With a final wave, she departed.

With time to kill, Grace decided to do another search. She went to her room and grabbed the file on Jackson. Doing the search for Sierra had given her some ideas for finding his father. Social services hadn’t been able to find his mother’s friend twenty-nine years ago. But times had changed. She typed in the friend’s name and hit Enter.

* * *

Grace’s phone rang. She pulled the cell phone out of her pocket but didn’t recognize the number. She began to hit Ignore, but remembered she had job feelers out. This time with Jackson was only temporary.

“This is Grace Delaney.”

“Hello, Grace Delaney, should I be congratulating you?”

“Doug!” Happy to hear her friend’s voice, she sank down on the sofa and looked out over the Strip. “Why would you congratulate me? Did I get a job I don’t know about?”

“Not unless you’re ready to join the FBI,” he responded.

“I’ve actually been giving it some thought. I’ve really enjoyed the profiling and background work I’ve been doing for Jackson. I might be interested in an analyst position with the FBI.”

“We always need good analysts. I’ll pass the word. But what I’m talking about is your upcoming wedding. The tabloids have announced you’re engaged to Hawke.”

“Seriously?” she asked, her heart clenched at the news. How she wished she could dismiss his revelation as sheer craziness. She and Jackson had known each other for only a week. But the truth was she’d fallen, and fallen hard. “Well, I can promise you any rumors of an engagement are greatly exaggerated.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Doug said. “So how come I don’t believe you?”

Because he knew her too well. “Maybe because I wished it was true?”

“You’ve fallen for him.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “Foolishly, I have.”

“Why foolish? You’ll make a great billionaire’s wife.”

Her heart squeezed even tighter. “Ah, that would require the billionaire to have feelings for me.”

“So what’s the problem? The man I saw clearly held you in high regard.”

Hope bloomed, but she blocked it. She needed to be realistic. “I think you’re confusing desperation for a connection. I was the only person he knew in a world gone crazy.”

“I don’t know. He was jealous of me. That points to a connection if you ask me.”

“Jealous?” She forced a laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

“There must be something there, or the tabloids wouldn’t have the two of you getting married.”

“There’s...chemistry.”

“Ah.” Silence beat down the line. “If you love him, you have to fight for him.”

“Fight for who?” she demanded, raw emotion tearing through her. “Jackson has his name thanks to you, but his memories are still defunct. When he gets them back, I’ll just be another memory.”

“It’s not like you to be a defeatist.”

“No, I’m a realist.” And an emotional mess. “He lives in hotels, Doug. And you heard me the other day. The only thing I’m certain of is a need for a home, for permanence.”

“So get him to buy you a house. He’s a bachelor, Grace. And travels a lot for business. Just because he doesn’t have a home doesn’t mean he doesn’t long for one.” A call sounded in the background. “Listen, Sherry needs me. Stay strong. The next time we talk, I hope I’ll be offering congratulations for real.”

“Give Sherry hugs from me. I’ll think about what you said,” she promised.

“I hope so, because you deserve to be happy. And I’m talking to Ken Case about that analyst position.”

The line disconnected and Grace dropped her phone on the couch, staring unseeing out the picture window. Doug made it sound so simple. Fight for Jackson, get him to buy the home they both longed for. So perfect.

Yet so far out of reach.

* * *

Jackson sat at the head of the conference table, listening to the conversation flowing around him. He’d admitted to Grace to being nervous about reporting to work, but diving back into his life was both exhilarating and challenging. He found it fascinating, and luckily much of the knowledge was there, even if the details and people were still blanks.

Again and again he looked around for Grace, wanting to share something with her, but dragging his girlfriend into a meeting would be pushing it.

Other than that, the plan was going great. Her preparations, sourced onto his new cell phone, put all the pertinent info he needed at his fingertips. Names of department heads along with pictures, descriptions of his games, a list of ventures and properties he owned. No one questioned him looking at his phone.

It worried him sometimes that he’d become so dependent on her. Everything he’d learned since arriving in Las Vegas pointed to self-reliance. More, it was clear he kept women at a distance.

He couldn’t imagine relegating Grace to her own suite. The best part of his day was waking with her in his arms. But would he feel the same way when his old life caught up to his new one?

His past, losing his mother so young and being in nine foster homes before finding a home with Mama Harman, was a memory bomb waiting to explode. How could he know how he’d feel once those memories returned?

He couldn’t. But he knew he wanted Grace by his side when that time came. She’d helped him through every mishap so far. He trusted her instincts, trusted her to put him first. Getting his memories back wasn’t going to change that. No matter what those memories held.

The meeting wrapped up and Jackson met Grace in the lobby.

“Hi. Oh. Where are we going?” she demanded when he simply wrapped an arm around her waist and swept her along. “I thought we were going to go over the game plan for the gala tonight. I have the profiles for the invited VIPs. I also asked Sierra for a list of the coordinators and their assistants and did brief profiles on them. And I included the roster of your executives, with the pictures attached.”

“Excellent. I can look at them in the car.” A large black SUV pulled up as he urged Grace through the door.

“It’s going to take you a while to go through that.” She slid in when he held the door open for her but stopped him from closing her in. “There are more than forty profiles for the VIPs alone.”

“I’m good with facts and faces.” He shut the door and rounded the vehicle. Inside the partition was up between them and the driver. “I will admit things seem to take forever to absorb. Took me nearly an hour to get through the file the FBI did on me when I was finally able to read it.”