The Risk-Taker (4 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad, I do not need a man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered without flinching.

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

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

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

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

4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were an eclectic bunch. She’d known Willow, Lanie and Jade from kindergarten, and despite a few hormone-fueled moments during their teenage years, they’d always been close. Tatum had joined their group when she moved here to buy Petals. Willow, always worried about making everyone feel welcome, had adopted
her. She shouldn’t have worried. Tatum could be abrasive, but you always knew where you stood with her and everyone rather liked her. Macey, a bit older than the rest of them, was Willow’s business partner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?” Tatum asked.

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

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

“Who do you do?” Regan asked.

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

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

“Just checking.” Willow shrugged.

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

The butterflies took flight again inside Hope’s belly.

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

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

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

That he’d almost died.

A familiar temper that she thought she’d dealt with years ago punched through her. Logically, she realized she shouldn’t be upset with him for serving his country. And, really, she didn’t want to be. He’d made an honorable career choice.

One that had almost killed him.

Hope rolled her shoulders, and fought the urge to reach out and touch him—to make sure that he was real and there, instead of stuck in some dark hole in the middle of a hostile country.

To her, enlisting had been tantamount to Gage signing his own death warrant. She knew him too well. He was constantly pushing boundaries, testing himself and everyone around him. And it wasn’t as if he’d been destined for a desk job. Oh, no, it had been the front lines or nothing for him. From the moment he’d signed up his intention had been to get that Ranger Tab. And he’d done it.

But the thought of losing someone else she cared about... Hope just couldn’t do it.

Not that it had mattered any when the phone call about his capture had come into the newsroom. She hadn’t talked to him in twelve years and it had still felt as if her world was suddenly spinning out of control. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and didn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time until he’d been rescued.

So he was home and safe with only a few scars to show for the adventure. That status quo wouldn’t keep, and Hope knew it.

The butterflies swarmed up her throat, choking her. She swallowed them back down. And jerked her gaze straight up to Gage’s. He watched her, frowning.

Throwing her a dark glance, he grabbed a chair from another table and spun it close. “Gage,” Lexi yelped when he picked her up, chair and all, to make room. Her embarrassed gaze darted around. “What are you doing?”

With a negligent shrug, he set her down again and insinuated himself between Hope and Lexi. “Hiding.”

“Well, you suck at it,” Hope said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Willow gasped at her unintended pun. Hope cringed inwardly and fought the urge to look at the appendage she’d inadvertently brought into the conversation. Her nose wrinkled. Gage’s eyes narrowed.

Crossing his arms over that wide chest, he sprawled into his chair. Hope was worried the spindly back might give from his sheer power.

“A sore thumb, huh?”

Hope’s throat went dry, but she ignored it. Nodding, she raised an eyebrow and decided to brazen it out. “I would have expected someone with your training would be better at blending in, that’s all.”

“What do you know about my training?” He watched her, his gaze steady and unwavering even as it bored into her.

“Enough.” From the moment she’d heard Gage had been captured she’d found herself doing internet searches on everything she could find about the Rangers. She’d wanted to know just how much danger he’d been in.

The thought of him being tortured... It was one thing to realize he faced death every single day, but the kind of continued pain and suffering those white bandages represented was so much worse.

A taunting smile played at the corner of Gage’s mouth, doing nothing more than tugging up the edges. He’d always had the best smile. The kind of lopsided imperfection that carried a healthy dose of roguish charm.

Hope realized she hadn’t seen that smile once since he’d been home. Something tightened in the center of her chest. Absentmindedly, she reached up and rubbed the spot. Gage’s gaze followed the motion, snagging on the scooped neckline of her strapless dress.

Heat flamed up her chest. Quickly, she moved her hand up to circle her throat and grabbed the pendant hanging there instead. The prongs from the setting dug into her and so did the tiny kernel of guilt for what she was about to do.

But it was too late to stop, even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.

Gage shifted beside her. The tight seam of his uniform jacket strained against his shoulders. Lexi said something to him, Hope wasn’t even sure what. He turned away, releasing her from the pressure that had been building...until his arm dropped carelessly over the scalloped edge of her chair. Warm fingers brushed the curve of her naked shoulder. She nearly knocked Lanie’s drink over when she jackknifed away from the contact.

Several pairs of shocked eyes—but not Gage’s—turned to look at her. Luckily she was saved from coming up with an explanation when Mrs. Copeland walked to the podium in all her heirloom jewelry and big-hair glory.

* * *

A
HUSH
RIPPLED
THROUGH
the crowd. Gage suppressed the need to ruin the moment by dropping a glass to the floor or knocking one of the large floral centerpieces over. It was a childish urge and most of him realized that, but old habits died hard and troublemaker had been the only role he’d ever filled at these events until now.

To distract himself, he leaned forward, making some unnecessary comment to one of Lexi’s friends just so he could brush his fingertips across the smooth surface of Hope’s skin again. A shiver rippled through her body. He felt it, relished the reaction.

Perhaps his commanding officer was right and he was a masochist. He thought he’d learned his lesson with Hope a very long time ago, but apparently not.

Although, he had always loved playing with fire. Loved the excitement, the adrenaline, the knowledge that the reward was always better when you had to battle for what you wanted.

It was gratifying to realize Hope wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like.

A spotlight cut through the intentional gloom and wrapped around Mrs. Copeland.

Leaning closer to Hope, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Isn’t that the same dress she wore our senior year?”

She choked, making a desperate wheezing sound in the back of her throat even as she threw him a warning glare.

“Welcome to our annual Cupid’s Couple festival,” Mrs. Copeland began.

Everyone around him, including Hope, burst into applause. Gage didn’t bother. Not only was he less than enthusiastic about the whole damn thing, but it also would have required him to move his hand and he rather liked where it was.

“For our guests who aren’t familiar with our little tradition, over fifty years ago the citizens of Sweetheart decided Valentine’s Day was the perfect opportunity to pair off our single young people. The first event was a modest dance, but since then it’s grown into this weeklong celebration.”

She bestowed a benevolent smile across the entire crowd as if she was solely responsible for this boom in attendance. And she probably thought she was. For as long as he could remember Mrs. Copeland had been running an etiquette school for young men and women.

He’d been kicked out around age thirteen. The lizard he’d put down the back of her dress had died a valiant death for a good cause. To steal a phrase from Mrs. Copeland herself, bless his squished heart.

“For the past week our town Cupid has been receiving nominations for those interested in participating in our festivities. Tonight the fun begins when each of our young ladies is paired with an escort for the week.

“While we don’t expect everyone will fall madly in love...” Mrs. Copeland winked conspiratorially at the crowd. The gesture might have worked if her false eyelashes hadn’t been so heavy that she could barely open her eye again. “I’ll be surprised if we don’t have several permanent matches after the festivities are over.