Читать книгу: «Heartbreaker»

One

Gage Striker hadn’t been in the same room as Elena Rollins in six years. They’d never spoken after their breakup. Never texted. Never called.

And yet, the exact moment his former lover crossed the threshold of his remote Montana home, crashing his private party, he knew. He sensed her nearness like a breath on the back of his neck—a prickling awareness that set every nerve ending on alert.

How had she gained admittance? He’d hired a security team to prevent just such intrusions. Heads would roll for the oversight, given how many celebrity guests were under his roof at his Mesa Falls Ranch home tonight—guests who rightly expected their privacy to be protected. In the meantime, he needed to contain the problem. Just as soon as he located her.

Gage stood in the massive foyer with his friend and Mesa Falls co-owner Weston Rivera. The DJ was playing a pop song in the great room behind them and a handful of people were dancing. Just then, a commotion erupted near the front door as one of the evening’s more prominent celebrities strolled in with her entourage. Social media star Chiara Campagna caused quite a stir with her sleek dark hair and wide dark eyes, but Gage’s attention passed over her quickly.

Elena was his real concern.

Guests poured from the great room into the foyer, phones recording Chiara’s entrance as she accepted a magnolia flower from a greeter. It amazed him how much attention she attracted, especially among the handful of Hollywood elite who’d been invited to this evening’s party, a PR effort to raise awareness about the ranch’s environmental initiatives.

And to provide cover for the fact that all six of the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch were scheduled to fly in for a meeting this weekend. They were in crisis mode. The tabloids had been far too interested in the ranch ever since the actress Tabitha Barnes used their holiday gala as a platform to make explosive allegations about one of Mesa Falls’ former guests. Gage kept waiting for the spotlight to fade and the public to move on to the next scandal, but tabloid reporters had started showing up to chase the story once they discovered how much time Alonzo Salazar had spent at the ranch before his death.

Much to Gage’s personal frustration, Elena had recently embarked on a new career in entertainment journalism. He had a strong suspicion she’d taken the job only when she’d seen a chance for payback given the way they’d parted. With all the gossip Elena Rollins could have covered closer to her Southern California home, of course she’d post a photo of her plane ticket to Missoula, Montana, on her social media account with a provocative caption about hunting down answers.

He’d known all week she was coming for him.

With an effort, Gage returned his attention to his business partner, and the coolly poised blonde at his side. The woman didn’t look familiar, but it was clear by the way Weston curled a possessive arm around her waist that she was someone special to him.

“This is more than we planned for, mate,” Gage observed as he took a rough head count of the crowd in the foyer. “We need better security.” Then, forcing a more pleasant note into his voice, he peered down at Weston’s guest. “I’m Gage, by the way.”

“April Stephens,” the woman replied, her blue eyes darting around the room and up to the cathedral ceiling where hidden lights cast a warm glow on the partygoers. “And thank you for inviting me. Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He had helped design the modern take on a lodge-style home, but he hadn’t spent much time on-site since his business interests kept him on the move. At fourteen thousand square feet, the property was made for entertaining more than anything. “I know this isn’t everyone’s idea of a party, though, love. Come back in the summer when we can kick our shoes off, barbecue some ribs and throw horseshoes by the pool. That’s more my speed.”

He’d never bought into his parents’ belief that appearances were everything. He might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon, but he’d chucked it aside as soon as he realized how much baggage came with it. Now, he had his own wealth. Made his own rules. Funny how he still ended up throwing parties for the overprivileged. At least he called the shots these days.

Weston leaned forward to address Gage. “I need all the help I can get convincing April to spend more time here.”

Intriguing that Weston would make his interest in the woman so clear. Gage had known Weston since boarding school days and he couldn’t recall a single female in all that time whom his footloose, mountaineering friend had gone out of his way to impress.

Gage nodded, respecting Weston’s wishes even though he couldn’t imagine diving into relationship waters again. He returned his attention to his friend’s date.

“Definitely come back and spend some time with us when there’s not so much hype.” He snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering why he should know the woman. “April. You’re the financial forensics investigator. How’s your case going?”

So this was the woman who’d been hired by Alonzo Salazar’s son to trace his mysterious finances. Gage’s former mentor had recently been unmasked as the man behind a Hollywood tell-all book that had caused Tabitha Barnes and her family a world of trouble.

“It’s closed,” she assured him. “I’ve tracked enough of Alonzo’s earnings to satisfy my client, so I’m officially finished with my work at Mesa Falls. I’ll be flying back to Denver tomorrow.”

Gage nodded, realizing she wasn’t going to offer any specifics. He would ask Devon Salazar for an update on the case in the morning since her findings could very well turn media scrutiny in another direction. Away from the ranch.

The encouraging thought immediately faded, however, as he felt the hairs at his shirt collar stand on end. The hum of awareness grew to a buzzing sensation until he had no choice but to turn around.

And came face-to-face with his former lover.

Elena Rollins stepped toward him, swathed in strapless crimson silk and velvet. Her dark hair was half pinned up and half trailing down her back, a few glossy curls spilling over one bare shoulder. Even now, six years later, she took his breath away as fast as a punch to his chest. For a single devastating instant, he thought the smile curving her red lips was for him.

Then, she opened her arms wide.

“April!” Elena greeted Weston Rivera’s date warmly, wrapping her in a one-armed embrace like they were old friends.

Only then did Gage notice how Elena gripped her phone in her other hand, holding it out at arm’s length to record everything. Was it a live video? Anger surged through him at the same time he wondered how in the hell she knew April Stephens.

“Smile for my followers,” Elena instructed her friend as the two women eased apart. She lifted her cell to get both of them in the shot.

April hesitated, clearly confused about being in the spotlight.

“Were you unaware of Elena’s day job?” Gage asked April as he plucked the device from Elena’s red talons and dropped it in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “She’s now a professional menace.”

Elena rounded on him, pinning him with her dark eyes. They stood deadlocked in fuming silence. Weston might have said something to him—Gage couldn’t be sure—before Weston and April headed off. Now it was Gage and his ex, surrounded by at least twenty-five other guests still filming Chiara Campagna’s every movement on their phones.

“That belongs to me,” Elena sniped, tipping her chin at him. “You have no right to take it.”

“You have no right to be here, but I see you didn’t let that stop you from finagling your way onto the property.”

She glared at him, dark eyes narrowing. “My video is probably still recording. Maybe you should return my phone before you cause a scene that will bring you bad press.”

Extending a palm, she waited for him to hand it over.

“If you have a problem with me, why don’t you tell it to the security team you tricked into admitting you tonight?” He pointed toward the door where two bodyguards in gray suits were stationed on either side of the entrance. “You’re trespassing.”

The crush of people in the foyer began to ease as Chiara Campagna’s entourage made their way into the great room, pausing just inside the open double doors to take a few photos with her friends. At least there would be less of an audience for whatever antics Elena had in mind.

“Is that a dare, Gage?” Her voice hit a husky note, no doubt carefully calibrated to distract a man.

It damn well wasn’t going to work on him.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he clarified, unwilling to give her the public showdown she so clearly wanted to record and share with her followers. “You can speak with me privately about whatever it is you’re doing in my house, or you can let my team escort you off the premises right now. Either way, I can promise you there won’t be any cameras involved.”

“How positively boring.” She gave him a tight smile and a theatrical sigh before folding her arms across her chest. “Maybe using cameras could spice things up a bit.”

She gave him a once-over with her dark gaze.

He reminded himself that if she got under his skin, she won. But he couldn’t deny a momentary impulse to kiss her senseless for trying to play him.

“What will it be, Elena?” he pressed, keeping his voice even. “Talk or walk?”

“Very well.” She gestured with her hands, holding them up in a sign of surrender. “Spirit me away to your lair, Gage, and do with me what you will.” She tipped her head to one side, a thoughtful expression stealing across her face. “Oh, wait a minute.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “You don’t indulge your bad-boy side anymore, do you? Your father saw to that a long time ago, paying off all the questionable influences to leave his precious heir alone.”

The seductive, playful note in her voice was gone, a cold chill stealing into her gaze.

He’d known she had an ax to grind with him after the way his father had bribed her to get out of his life.

He hadn’t realized how hard she’d come out swinging.

Elena followed Gage through his massive home on unsteady legs.

At well over six feet tall, he cut an imposing figure. His build was as formidable as ever, broad chest and muscular arms filling out his tuxedo. As she walked behind him, she could appreciate the way those broad shoulders narrowed to his waist, how his dark hair brushed the collar of his jacket. She caught a glimpse of the tattoos on his forearms just beneath his shirt cuffs. She used to love tracing the intricate colorful patterns there, asking him the stories behind each. And he would tell her, spinning tales of his past in the New Zealand accent that was an aphrodisiac to her. Or maybe it was just Gage—pure and simple. He could have spoken with a Southern drawl or a Boston accent, and she probably would have thought it the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

He had affected her that way at one time.

She hadn’t been prepared for how seeing him would affect her now. Six years had passed since their relationship ended in an icy goodbye, with Gage believing his father’s story that she’d allowed herself to be paid off in order to leave Gage alone. She’d been so angry at his automatic condemnation that she hadn’t bothered to correct him. If he thought that poorly of her character, then he’d never really known her at all, and couldn’t have possibly loved her.

So she’d told herself that their split was a good thing. An eye-opening moment about someone she’d cared for deeply. She’d even been married since then, a colossal flop of an endeavor that had left her broke and humiliated. Her cooking-show-host husband had taken up with his assistant while Elena was out of town at a conference. She’d become a divorce cliché before she’d turned thirty.

Sadly, even her husband’s infidelity hadn’t left her as unsettled as seeing Gage tonight. Which spoke volumes about her poor decision in marrying Tomas in the first place.

She thrust those thoughts from her mind as Gage led her from the party to a quiet corner at the opposite end of the house. The sound of music faded as they entered a gray stone corridor illuminated by recessed lights in the pale wood ceiling. The building materials were sleek and expensive looking, the walls mostly unadorned. Even the floors were free of rugs; her high heels echoed in the wide hallway.

They soon arrived in a sitting room with a gray stone fireplace. Or maybe it was an office. She realized the mammoth glass-topped table with steel legs was actually a desk. There was a deep leather couch tucked against one wall and a television screen mounted on the one opposite.

The surroundings were as cold and unwelcoming as her host.

Gage closed the double doors behind them and then turned to face her. The room was soundproof; you’d never know a noisy party was taking place in another section of the house.

“Do you care to tell me what you’re doing here?” he asked her now, his brown eyes unreadable as he studied her by the light of two ultramodern chandeliers with sleek white glass spokes. “Or would you like me to get you a drink first?”

The angles of his face were more prominent than she remembered, from the square jaw and high cheekbones to the slash of his widow’s peak. His face was shadowed with a few days’ growth of neatly groomed beard. He went to a built-in gray cabinet beneath the television screen, raising the wooden lid to reveal a wet bar. There was a small selection of the best whiskeys the world had to offer, cut crystal glasses stacked to one side.

“I’ve had a challenging year, but I haven’t resorted to bourbon yet.” She didn’t tend to drink hard liquor after seeing what alcohol had done to her mother. “But please, help yourself if you like.”

While he poured from the only decanted bottle, Elena had a vivid memory of what Gage’s preferred bourbon tasted like on his tongue when he kissed her. The memory—so sudden and visceral it shocked her—sent an unwelcome flash of heat through her. Her skin tightened uncomfortably, and she fought the urge to pace away from him.

To find some breathing room on the other side of this hard-surfaced echo chamber that passed as living space in Gage’s world.

But she couldn’t afford to give away how much his nearness rattled her.

“On second thought,” she mused aloud, thinking this man and the memories he evoked posed a more immediate threat to her mental well-being than any spirit, “maybe a small taste couldn’t hurt.”

He glanced her way, but she didn’t allow herself to meet his eyes. She pretended a sudden interest in the flames of the fireplace while she tried to pull herself together.

She heard an ice cube clink in a glass. The splash of liquid as he poured her drink. The soft thud of the cabinet lid being shut.

“Here you go.” Gage’s voice sounded over her left shoulder. “I added ice to yours to mellow it a bit. Would you like a seat?”

“No, thank you.” She accepted the glass he handed her, careful to avoid brushing his fingers with hers. She remembered all too well how his touch had affected her. “There’s no need to pretend this is a social visit.”

She crossed one arm over her midsection and lifted the glass to her nose, swirling the drink as she inhaled the fragrance of toasted vanilla and charred oak.

Neither of which quite captured her memory of the taste on Gage’s tongue when they kissed.

“I won’t lose sight of that anytime soon,” he assured her, gesturing toward the couch. “Sit.”

Unwilling to argue, she moved to the far end of the sofa and settled herself on a cushion. He joined her there, leaving a few feet between them. Settling his drink on the window ledge that butted up against the sofa back, he shifted sideways to face her. She did the same.

“Care to tell me why you’re here?” he asked, easing a finger beneath his bow tie to loosen it a fraction.

She remembered how much he disliked formal attire, even though his family’s living in the public eye had called for it. Then, when they’d been dating, he’d been building his portfolio as a venture capitalist, a role that often put him in business attire. And while these days his tremendous success and wealth surely allowed him to wear whatever he felt like, he was still frequently photographed in bespoke suits.

Not that she went out of her way to find out what he was doing. Given his success in Silicon Valley, his name periodically cropped up at the Hollywood parties she used to attend with Tomas.

And damn, but her memories had sent her thoughts on a wild ride. She refocused on his question.

“Based on the way you labeled me a professional menace, I’m fairly certain you already know why I’m here.” She’d been sure to fill her social media with posts about her trip to Montana so that Gage would hear of her impending arrival one way or another. “As an entertainment reporter, I saw an opportunity to unearth a story that readers want right now.”

“Since when do you work for the tabloids?”

She shrugged away the pain that came with thinking about that. “Since my faithless ex-husband tied up our assets with frivolous litigation in an effort to make my life miserable. I took a job that would net me enough quick cash to live on until things are settled.”

That narrative didn’t begin to cover the financial and emotional hardship of her contentious divorce. She’d made the mistake of thinking Tomas would behave like a grown-up and had moved out of the house immediately. Afterward, she’d discovered what a disadvantage it put her at to vacate their shared residence. She’d just wanted him to sign the paperwork and sever their ties. Only later did she realize how shortsighted she’d been to trust that Tomas would be fair.

“I’m sorry to hear about the divorce.” The empathy in Gage’s voice was real enough. His gaze flicked over her as he took a sip of his drink and returned the glass to the window ledge. Then his tone changed. “But there are only a million ways for one of the sharpest women I know to make a living. Why choose to upend other people’s lives to make a buck?”

“I won’t thank you for a backhanded compliment intended to make me feel guilty about my job.” Why she took it was none of his business. Although if ever there was a time in her life for work that allowed her an outlet for her disillusionment and bitterness, this was it. “For what it’s worth, I like to seek out targets for my work that deserve public censure.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting that I fall into that category,” he replied, displeasure in his voice.

Gage Striker was a man who’d never known a moment’s doubt. A man who wouldn’t know how it felt to have the world think the worst of him. To have to fight for respectability.

She skirted around his comment, not ready to cross swords with him directly.

Yet.

“I was thinking more of Alonzo Salazar, whose tell-all book ruined lives. The man profited from real people’s heartbreak.” She shifted on the leather sofa to face Gage more directly and to retrieve her drink. The silk of her dress’s skirt swished against her calves, the velvet ruffle at the hem trailing over her foot as she crossed her legs.

Gage followed her movements with his gaze, making her far too aware of herself.

Of him.

“And yet it just so happens that pursuing the Alonzo Salazar story brought you to my doorstep.” He lowered his voice as he leaned closer. “That feels a little too convenient to be coincidence, doesn’t it?”

To put off answering, she sipped the bourbon, letting the flavors play over her tongue. A hint of caramel. A touch of smoke as she swallowed.

And then, there it was. The afterburn in her throat with a hint of cherry. The scent of leather. The flavor of the last kiss she remembered sharing with Gage.

“It’s decidedly inconvenient for me.” She resisted the urge to plant the cool glass against her forehead, as her skin warmed at his nearness and the memories of his mouth on hers. “My work here would be much easier if we didn’t have such an...acrimonious history.”

“Acrimonious,” he repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends. Would you?” She set the drink aside, knowing better than to play with fire.

“Far from it,” he agreed easily. “Which is the real reason you’re here, Elena, no matter what you say.”

Her heart sped faster at the confrontational note in his tone. A part of her had always regretted not telling him exactly what she thought of him before she left.

“And what reason is that, Gage, since you apparently know me so well?”

She could swear she saw the flames from the fireplace reflected in his dark gaze. It must be that, and not a wicked light in his eyes.

“We both know you’re here for revenge.”

Two

Gage wondered how she could possibly look him in the eye and claim otherwise.

She sat beside him in his study in her bloodred dress, glossy tendrils of hair winding around her shoulders like Medusa’s serpents. It was all an enticing distraction from the threat she posed. To his name, his reputation and everything he’d worked hard to build at Mesa Falls Ranch.

“Revenge for what, exactly?” she asked finally, recrossing her legs in the opposite direction, causing the long slit in her dress to part and expose her lean calves. Velvet ribbons from her high-heeled shoes wound around her lower legs, their soft bows drawing his gaze to her feet, where red-painted toenails peeped from supple leather.

She was a breathtaking woman, even when she didn’t dress to turn heads. Tonight, he couldn’t look away from her if he tried. And damn it, he needed to try harder.

“For your wounded pride. For the slight from my family when my father bribed you to leave me. You were livid with him.” And she hadn’t even blinked when he’d asked her if she’d accepted the payment. Her affirmation—the defiant lift of her chin—had iced all the feelings he’d had for her. “With me.”

He’d never understood how she could have transferred so much anger to him when she was the one who’d sold out what they had. Later, it occurred to him that his father might have filled her head with lies about Gage not wanting her in his life. But by then, she was long gone and none of it mattered.

She’d moved half a world away, returning to Southern California, where they’d first met, while he remained in New Zealand to help his father campaign for a parliament seat and a more prominent position in his party. For Gage’s father, politics had been a paramount concern his whole life, an important way to maintain Striker family interests. Sadly, now that Gage’s fortune outstripped his father’s several times over, his relationship with his dad seemed even more tenuous.

“It’s been six years since we ended things,” she reminded him, glancing down at her fingernails as if the discussion bored her. “I moved on. Married someone else.”

“And look how well that worked out for you.”

The beat of silence afterward told him the barb had hit the mark. It also made him realize how damned petty that had been. Her gaze flicked up to his, her expression tinged with a hint of pain before the walls went back up again.

“I agree that was a foolish move.” Her easy response surprised him as she leaned back deeper into the couch cushions, relaxing her rigid posture a fraction. “But my point is that I certainly wouldn’t hatch a revenge scheme after all this time.”

“I have no business commenting on your marriage.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, the tension in his head a sign that she was getting under his skin. “My apologies.”

She inclined her head, gracious as a queen. “And I’m sorry for sneaking into the party under another woman’s name. But given our history, I didn’t feel comfortable requesting an invitation.”

He couldn’t help a wry laugh as he forced himself to gaze into the fireplace flames instead of at the woman on the couch beside him. “Probably because I would have never granted you one. You have to know that it’s my job to protect the privacy of my guests. Which means no tabloid reporters.”

“Nevertheless, I need to have my phone back.” She shifted beside him, running her palm over the expanse between them and drawing his focus to her left hand that bore no ring. Not even a lingering tan line. “My followers will think something happened to me after my video cut off in the middle.”

“Then they seriously underestimate your resourcefulness.” They’d met the year before he’d taken his first company public. Back then, the tech start-up offering network privacy tools had been the sole focus of his life. Elena had been working for a rival firm, and she’d quit her job because she believed in his product more.

She’d shown up in his office to tell him so, offering her services as an influencer to a younger demographic. At the time, she’d had a homegrown following for her beauty and fashion tips, and he hadn’t understood how that could help him. She’d single-handedly taught him the value of never underestimating a target market, making a clever video that brought him fifty thousand converts to his network security product overnight. He’d given her a percentage and a job. In the end, he’d lost more than a woman he loved when they parted. He’d lost a hell of a team member since she’d handed in her resignation the same day they broke up.

“Then what will it take to recover my device?” she pressed, a hint of agitation creeping into her tone. “Let’s open the negotiations so we don’t take up any more of each other’s time.”

She reached for the bourbon on the rocks he’d poured her, and then, as if thinking the better of it, she returned her hand to her lap.

“For starters, be honest with me about what you’re doing in Montana.” He rose from the couch and returned to the wet bar, pouring her a glass of ice water. Delivering it to her, he noticed how carefully she took it from him. Somehow, the absence of contact only ratcheted up the awareness between them as he reclaimed his seat.

“Thank you.” She took a long sip before setting the glass beside the first one. A hint of lipstick on the crystal distracted him for a moment. “And I was honest with you. I’m going to get answers about Alonzo Salazar’s ill-gotten gains and where the proceeds from his book went. I’m not leaving the ranch until I either find out or have a solid lead that points somewhere else.”

Gage already knew from his exchange with the investigator April Stephens that she’d found answers to that same question. But he wasn’t going to point Elena in her direction since he didn’t want to aid her in her quest.

Alonzo’s secrets were tied up with his own. His former mentor had been privy to the nuances of a boarding school tragedy that involved all six of the ranch’s owners, something they’d taken pains to put behind them for good. So his primary objective was to keep Alonzo’s past on lockdown. For starters, he sure as hell wasn’t letting the woman seated beside him anywhere near April Stephens tonight. Thankfully, the investigator would be leaving Mesa Falls Ranch in the morning.

“So you’re just here for a story,” he concluded, willing to capitalize on their past affair to maneuver her if it came down to that. He happened to know her very, very well. “Not out of any desire to see me again.”

He could tell he caught her off guard by the slightest hint of her shoulders straightening. Was it in awareness of him? Or was she just squaring up for the next round of battle?

“You’re safe with me, Gage. I promised your father you would be, after all.”

They settled back into sparring roles, and if he were being honest, he was more comfortable seeing her as the enemy than a woman out of options after a well-publicized divorce. It spoke volumes about her financial position—and, perhaps, her personal confidence—that she was selling stories to the tabloids. The Elena he’d known had been a fierce businesswoman.

“And you’re not seeking some sort of misguided revenge.” He stated it as fact, wanting clarification on that point.

Or perhaps he just needed to rile her.

A light trill of laughter bubbled up from her throat. Rising from the couch, she paced closer to the fireplace, peering back over one shoulder at him. “I’d have to feel something for you if I wanted revenge, Gage.”

She said it so coolly, he almost believed her. But at the last moment, a hint of something else flitted through her gaze. The look was fleeting, but it had been there before she quickly turned away. In that moment, he’d glimpsed something more than cool detachment.

Getting to his feet, he closed the distance between them to join her beside the sleek stone hearth. Eyes locked on her subtle curves as she stared down into the flames, he remembered a thousand other times he’d touched her. Tasted her. Made her moan with pleasure.

The past simmered around him, hotter than any blaze.

“I don’t believe you.”

Gage’s words, spoken while he stood far too close to her, stopped her short.

Her breath caught. Her pulse stuttered for a protracted moment.

Thankfully, her back was to him. So she closed her eyes and steeled herself against the tingling in her nerve endings that reminded her of how hot they’d burned together, once upon a time. That hint of bourbon she’d sipped danced in her veins, seeming to warm her everywhere.

But she wasn’t here to play games with him. And she couldn’t afford to let her guard down for a single second. She needed this story to shore up her finances. If she happened to inconvenience Gage Striker in the process, all the better. Revenge? She preferred to view it as a reminder to him that a Striker couldn’t pay his way out of all life’s inconveniences.

“It hardly matters whether you believe me or not.” She shrugged and traced a pattern in the dark gray stone of the fireplace surround with her finger—anything to delay facing him.

“You feel something for me.” That voice, pitched so low for her ears alone, was like a fingernail stroke down her spine. “It’s probably nothing good, but I am one hundred percent confident you aren’t indifferent.”

He’d dropped the gauntlet, and they both knew it.

The silence between them stretched. She’d tried acting once, when she’d first fled her father’s run-down desert shack for Los Angeles at seventeen. She hadn’t been any good at it then, either, but she’d never had as much motivation as she did right now. Taking a deep breath, she spun on her heel to look Gage in the eye.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” She flipped a few curls over her shoulder. “But I’m in Montana for work, not to rehash a long-dead past. So if we’re done here, I’ll see myself out.”

She sidled past him, but at the last moment, his palm landed lightly on her elbow.

“Wait.” His touch fell away, quickly breaking their connection.

Because he didn’t care to make contact with the woman who’d betrayed him? Or because he felt the same jolt of attraction she felt?

She stopped and turned back around to face him.

“You really plan to stay in town to chase this story?” His voice had lost some of its antagonistic edge.

“I’m not going anywhere until I have answers.” She would be in Mesa Falls for as long as she could afford it, anyway. Rooms at the main lodge weren’t cheap, but she didn’t think Gage would ban her from the ranch property altogether given how hard his PR team had worked to bring the place into the public eye. She didn’t think he’d risk the potential bad press.

He gave a decisive nod. “Then stay with me.”

She blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“If you are that indifferent to me, it should hardly be a problem to stay under the same roof while you research your piece,” he told her mildly, heading back to the couch to retrieve their drinks. He drained the rest of his bourbon and then returned with her water.

“So you can keep an eye on me while I’m here? Make sure I don’t find the answers I seek?” She clutched the glass, savoring its coolness against her palm while she struggled to keep her edge. She had no illusions he was opening his home to her out of the goodness of his heart. “I don’t think so.”

“Why waste your mental energy figuring out how to sneak into my home when you could have full access?” he asked, his tone deceptively reasonable.

“Why not just kick me out, the way you threatened to upstairs?” She didn’t trust the offer. Couldn’t trust him.

“While I don’t mind negative publicity for myself, I’d rather not stir it up for Mesa Falls.” He paced past her toward the huge table that seemed to function as a desk. Withdrawing her phone from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, he laid it on the glass-topped surface. “So I’d rather not resort to removing you from the property altogether. But to answer your earlier question, I would find it convenient to have some awareness of your movements while you’re in town.”

Her gaze had dropped to her phone, but his words made her attention snap back to him. “So you admit you want to keep tabs on me?”

“You’re hardly making your movements secret when you’re posting them online,” he scoffed. “But yes. Having you under my roof will help me stay informed so I don’t have to check my social media accounts.”

He had a point. She’d be deceiving herself if she thought he was going to ignore her presence in town altogether now that she’d made it clear she wanted answers about Alonzo Salazar.

“For that matter,” he continued, perhaps sensing her indecision, “you’d have access to me twenty-four/seven.”

“For what purpose?” she asked coolly, not appreciating the implication that she might desire such access.

Gage shrugged. “You tell me. I assumed you might have questions about the ranch. Moving forward, I’ve committed to spending more time on-site to ensure the ranch’s mission is fulfilled.”

“Are you saying you’d be willing to answer my questions?” she pressed, draining her drink and trying not to think about what it would be like to move into Gage’s home for days.

Or weeks.

Her stomach knotted. His easy dismissal of what they’d shared six years ago had hurt her deeply. For the first time, she debated the wisdom of coming to Montana and reopening that old wound.

“I can’t promise that. I’m simply offering you the opportunity to ask.” He moved toward her again, plucking her empty glass from her fingers and setting it aside on the fireplace mantel. “Put your money where your mouth is, Elena. If you’re not out for revenge, and you don’t feel a damned thing about me, then work on your story from my home, where you won’t have to sneak around my security. And yes, I get to pretend I at least have a chance to influence your work.”

She longed to refuse. To walk away from him and the deal with the devil he was offering.

But he’d effectively called her bluff. And bottom line, she couldn’t afford to turn him down. Smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her velvet-and-satin gown, she told herself it was a welcome opportunity. A chance to learn insider details about Alonzo Salazar’s life and legacy.

“I’ve heard more gracious invitations,” she said finally. “But I’m hardly in a position to be choosy.”

He gave a satisfied nod.

“Excellent. Are you staying in the lodge? I’ll send someone over to retrieve your things.” Gage pulled his own phone from his pocket and began tapping out a message.

“Right now?” She thought about what her hotel room looked like, her meager possessions offering a far more realistic portrait of her desperate finances than the beautiful gown she’d finagled from a local vendor for the event at almost no cost to her.

“I’m sure you’re in a hurry to begin pursuing your story.” He pocketed the device again. “Didn’t you tell me your followers deserve answers?”

She began to see how neatly he’d maneuvered her into doing what he wanted. But what were his real motives? “I hope that doesn’t mean I’ve effectively become your prisoner in this remote home.”

“An intriguing idea, but no.” The curve of his lips didn’t seem quite like a smile. Wolfish anticipation, maybe. “You can, of course, come and go as you please. Although running from me at first opportunity hardly seems like the action of a woman who’s indifferent.” A note of challenge hung in his voice.

“I only meant that I’d like to retrieve my own things from the lodge.” She wasn’t sure how much of her life she could hide from Gage if he decided he wanted answers of his own. But she definitely didn’t want him to know the extent of her financial hardship.

“And miss the rest of the party you took pains to crash?” He shook his head and moved closer to her. “The evening has only just begun. Enjoy yourself here, and your bags will be in your suite by the time you’re ready to retire for the night.”

He extended his arm to her, as if he were courting her and not taunting her. Tempting her. Teasing her.

He’d said he didn’t believe that she was indifferent to him, and clearly, he still didn’t.

She suspected Gage would do everything in his power to prove her a liar on that count. But then, given how quickly he’d believed the worst of her, what was one more black mark against her name?

She’d wheedled her way into his home. Now it was up to her to make the most of the opportunity. So she slid her hand around his forearm, wordlessly accepting his invitation.

His dark eyes met hers and she felt that crackle of electricity between them again. She flicked her gaze away, her darting glance landing on her smartphone.

“My camera—” she began.

“—is off-limits for the rest of the party.” He laid a hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “It will be safe here when you return to your suite tonight.”

Confused, she peered around the office.

“My suite?”

“This will be your sitting area while you’re staying with me. Your bedroom is through there.” He pointed to double doors behind the massive desk.

“I see you have plenty of room for me,” she noted drily. She’d understood that Gage had achieved new heights of wealth in recent years, but seeing the way he lived firsthand was still eye-opening.

“I do, indeed.” He squeezed her hand lightly before letting go and leading her out of the suite and back toward the party. “You’ll hardly know we’re sharing the same roof again.”

Based on the way her pulse quickened when he was near, she seriously doubted it.

Three

Later that evening, Elena went into the kitchen and helped herself to a plate of fruit before declaring the night a total bust. Becoming an invited guest at Gage’s soiree tonight had done little to help Elena’s story.

Of course, the fact that Gage had attached himself to her for most of the party surely had something to do with it. Sighing with frustration, she drizzled a yogurt dip over her pile of strawberries and pineapple slices. No matter what he said to the contrary, he planned to be her watchdog more than her host.

Which would be easier to deal with, frankly, if his nearness didn’t affect her so much. As it stood, her thoughts scattered like dandelion fluff on a spring breeze whenever he was close.

She scooped up some raspberries from a chilled dish on one of the kitchen islands and dumped them on her china plate next to a few wedges of cheese and some baguette slices. She’d given up searching the party for April Stephens, the woman she’d met at their shared dress fitting earlier in the day. April had seemed like a promising lead for more information about the Mesa Falls Ranch owners since she, too, was in Montana to investigate the finances of Alonzo Salazar.

But by all accounts, the woman had left the party alone shortly after Gage had pulled Elena aside to speak to her. As for the other ranch owners, she’d spotted Weston Rivera drinking by himself in a back den, and his brother, Miles, in a heated conversation with Desmond Pierce out by the pool in the backyard. But they’d both stopped talking as soon as she’d stepped outside, making it impossible for her to overhear anything.

And Gage, the only other owner on-site tonight, was never far from Elena’s side. Even now, he entered the kitchen moments behind her, balancing a trio of half-empty champagne flutes in one hand.

With his bow tie long gone, he looked deliciously disheveled. The top button of his tuxedo shirt was undone, and his five o’clock shadow had been darkening steadily as the evening wore on. She noticed that other women’s eyes followed him when he walked past. It provided some small comfort that she wasn’t the only person captivated by his dark good looks and athletic physique.

But she knew better than to get involved. Again.

“The catering staff not only serves the food, they provide cleanup afterward,” she noted, nodding to his handful of crystal stemware. “That’s what you pay them for.”

“Thank you, Elena, for the entertaining tips. But when one is trapped in a room where the conversation has turned to which lipstick is the longest-wearing, the urge to escape by any means becomes overwhelming.” Setting the glasses in the sink, he joined her at the kitchen island. “May I join you?”

He was already helping himself to half a baguette, not bothering with a plate. She hid a smile. His father might have poured a lot of time and money into cultivating an heir with posh manners and social savvy, but Gage had resisted at least some of the efforts to tame him.

“Only if we can talk about something besides makeup.” She found a napkin and retrieved her glass of water to bring with her. “I’ve had all the party small talk I can bear, too.”

It frustrated her that she’d learned so little about the Mesa Falls Ranch owners or Alonzo Salazar this evening. But maybe she could still learn something from her host.

The crowd had thinned out considerably. The only guests still dancing in the great room were younger members of the celebrity entourages. It looked like one of the pop singers was deep in conversation with a European model Elena had spoken to only briefly. The party guests weren’t the kinds of people Gage had normally chosen to surround himself with, but then, the evening had been carefully planned by the ranch’s public relations staff to showcase Mesa Falls for young influencers who might bring more attention to the ranch’s environmental initiatives.

She admired the intent, even if the crowd was far different from what she was used to. They all seemed so damned young.

“Let’s sit at the breakfast bar.” He nodded toward the coffee station near the back windows overlooking the darkened pool area outside. “That way I can keep an eye on things until these people run out of gas.”

Elena slid into the cushioned wraparound bench that surrounded the table on three sides. Even though it was close to the kitchen, the spot was quiet since the catering staff was based in a mobile food preparation truck outside.

Gage slid in to sit near her, closer than she’d expected him to. To converse? Or to prove his point about her not being indifferent? Glancing over at him, she had to concede that she couldn’t read the nuances of his expression anymore. Or perhaps he’d cultivated a greater skill in keeping his thoughts to himself since she’d known him. No doubt that was a formidable asset in his business dealings.

“So how long are you in town for?” she asked as she unfolded a linen napkin and laid it over her lap. She might as well dig for answers from the only Mesa Falls Ranch owner she knew personally. “You mentioned staying in Montana beyond tonight, but the last I knew your full-time residence was in Palo Alto.”

He’d only just purchased that property when she’d met him. They’d talked about moving in together before things fell apart on the ill-fated trip to New Zealand to meet his family.

“It has been my home base ever since I purchased it.” He tore the baguette in half and offered her a piece, but she shook her head. “But Weston is looking for someone else to oversee the ranch full-time.”

Sitting so close to him called forth old memories. His aftershave was the same; since they’d broken up, the scent had sometimes tempted her in her dreams.

Dropping a few raspberries into her chilled water, she tried to refocus on their conversation, needing to learn what she could from him.

“Is Weston leaving the group?” she asked, mentally reviewing what she knew about the six partners. Weston Rivera was the younger of the Rivera brothers, both of whom owned a stake in the ranch. Weston had diverse investments around the country—mostly in fast-growth start-ups that had made him a very rich man. Miles Rivera ran their family’s ranch in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in central California.

“No. But now that we’re beginning to attract tabloid attention—” he paused to give her a meaningful look “—Weston doesn’t want to be solely responsible for overseeing the security and privacy of the guests.”

Either that, or he wanted help ensuring the ranch owners’ secrets were kept on lockdown. She was willing to bet the latter.

“So you’re moving here more permanently?” She couldn’t envision Gage retreating from the world in this remote corner of western Montana.

He might not have gone into politics like his father wanted, and he definitely didn’t fit the same spit-shined image his father projected, but he had inherited his family’s comfort in social situations. More than that, he was good with people, and seemed to enjoy working in team settings, not on isolated ranches.

“For now, yes.” He stabbed a fat strawberry with his dessert fork. “We’ll see how the year unfolds with all the media interest in Alonzo.”

She sipped her water and watched the antics in the great room as two young men held a dance-off for the enjoyment of the six or seven ladies draped on Gage’s leather sofas. Suit jackets discarded, the men spun on the toes of their slick dress shoes and performed hip swivels that had the women cheering and whistling.

The DJ seemed oblivious, spinning records and nodding to herself as she cued one song after another. One of her headphones had slipped off her ear.

“If you keep hosting house parties like this one, your time in town won’t be boring,” Elena observed lightly, amazed at the agility of the dancers.

Gage looked into the great room and shook his head. “I’m not sure living room dance battles are going to provide much entertainment. Besides, I like ranch life. Don’t forget, I grew up on a cattle station before my father turned his attention to politics.”

In fact, that detail of his past had slipped her mind. But now it all came back to her. They’d made plans to see the cattle station on her trip to New Zealand with him. But before they could, his father had intervened to confront Elena about her relationship with Gage. She’d flown home early. Alone.

She was still lost in thought when the DJ finished her set. A woman Elena guessed was part of the ranch’s PR staff arrived in the great room to urge the last of the guests into the swag room, enticing them with the promise of luxe goods and a fitting for a custom Stetson. The great room suddenly went quiet, as the group shuffled out, drinks in hand.

“What about you?” Gage asked, as she realized they were now alone. “How will you fare in the remote mountains, far from LA life?”

Awareness drifted around her like smoke, clinging to her skin. And yet, remembering how things had ended between them, she forced herself back down to earth. The pain of losing him had led her to a rebound marriage that nearly destroyed her life. She couldn’t give Gage any sway over her again.

“In light of my legal battles with my ex, taking some time to clear my head and commune with nature will be a good thing.”

Gage made himself a stack of cheese slices and crackers, building his next bite with architectural care that relayed how hard he was working not to show his feelings, too. “I’m having a tough time envisioning you communing with nature.”

“I may not have grown up on a cattle station, but I spent my youth in the California desert, sleeping under the stars as often as I slept under a roof. It was remote in its own way.” She let herself smile at the good memories. It had taken years of therapy for her to tease out the happy times among the sad and scary ones with her alcoholic mother, but Elena made an effort now. “I hope to explore all that the ranch has to offer.”

She’d tried on a lot of hats since running away from home at seventeen. She’d been a beauty influencer with her online makeup tutorials and endorsements that had helped finance college courses. A businesswoman in the years Gage had known her. Then, after that, a supportive wife to her husband’s career. None of those things had worked out for her.

She wasn’t sure where to turn next, but she knew for sure running hadn’t done her one bit of good. She was done being reactive. Over the years, she’d let her family dictate her choices. Then Gage’s overbearing father. Then her husband. Now, she was taking her life into her own hands.

For good.

Gage led Elena through his now quiet house half an hour later, not sure what to make of the changes he saw in her.

She wasn’t the same woman he’d dated six years ago. But just because he could no longer see her fiercely competitive side didn’t mean it wasn’t there. No matter how she downplayed her presence in Montana, he couldn’t shake the sense that she was here to right an old wrong. To make him pay for not standing up to his father on her behalf.

And yet, what had she expected when she’d completely hidden her past from him? He’d been blindsided by the revelation that her father was a wanted man. That she’d spent much of her teens on the run from the law with him. That her mother was an alcoholic with a violent streak that had landed both parents in jail more than once. Not that any of that reflected on Elena in the least. But it had hurt that she hadn’t confided any of it, leaving him to find out from his father’s private investigator. Her lack of trust showed how little she thought of him.

Now, she was back. And he didn’t know what to think about it other than her presence was still more intoxicating than any bourbon. Even walking four feet behind him, Elena’s draw was magnetic, pulling him inexorably backward.

“Thanks for showing me the way,” she said as they returned to the living area outside her bedroom, the same spot where they’d spoken earlier in the evening. She retrieved her smartphone that he’d left there.