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His speculative gaze focused on her face. “You figured wrong, Sunshine. If you choose to stay, you take the couch.”
She cast a sleepy glance at the lumpy sofa, exhaustion rapidly sapping her will to fight. It was most likely a delayed reaction to the series of traumas she’d experienced tonight.
“Fine.” She blinked back tears that suddenly misted her eyes and turned away from him, knowing his probing gaze wouldn’t miss them.
She could feel him still standing close behind her, probably trying to figure out what had brought her here, and she tried to brace herself for more questions. If he knew what was good for him, he’d walk away, unless he wanted a sobbing woman on his hands.
After a tense moment, his light footsteps climbed the ladder to the loft.
She let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
If it meant she would have some breathing space, she could tough out a few nights on a lumpy couch. The knowledge she would disappoint her dad again hurt, but not as much as Grayson’s betrayal. After a seven-year absence, she’d come home, gotten engaged to a man her father had approved of, and it had all blown up in her face.
At least Ramsey didn’t have a clue as to her real reason for being here. It would be too humiliating to acknowledge the truth. She never did find out if Grayson St. James was any good in the sack, but if what she’d seen was anything to go by, he was rather dangerous. The picture of him engaging in some hardcore sex with another woman would stay with her long after her anger from his betrayal faded.
The fact he’d never tried to do more than kiss her during their whirlwind courtship didn’t fit. It made the whole scene quite unreal. In an instant, she’d learned the truth. He was only marrying her for her money.
That he didn’t find her sexually attractive stung, but it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. She’d been too busy building her business to have much of a social life, let alone a lover.
So, now she was a twenty-seven-year-old semi-virgin with a cheating ex-fiancé and a growing need for more romance. There had to be a man for her somewhere.
She ducked into the bathroom and changed into her pajamas. Then, she rummaged around her bag for her Ginkgo Biloba—just the thing for the stress she was feeling.
Finding the bottle, she quickly downed a pill. If she ever needed calming, it was now.
Jake stood next to the sofa an hour later, watching Samantha sleep. He tried to tell himself he only felt compelled to check on her because she was his employer’s daughter, but he knew it wasn’t true.
He’d had a soft spot for his little Sunshine since he’d come to work for her father when she was twelve. She was a lively, intelligent child who had turned into a rebellious teen. Through the years, he’d pulled her out of more scrapes than he could count, until their final confrontation that night on the beach seven years ago.
He’d dragged her out of a wild party with a bunch of her high school friends after graduation. She’d been furious. Instead of arguing, she pulled him down for a scorching, angry, melt-his-socks-off kiss that had made him hard as stone. He’d set her back on her heels with a shove and given her the lecture of her life, telling her what a spoiled little rich girl she was.
She’d left home the next day, and he’d felt guilty for chasing her away. Instead of going down in flames, she’d built a successful catering business. The expansion of that business had brought her back home six months ago. It hadn’t taken long for Grayson St. James, one of Logan Industries' young executives, to sweep her off her feet.
Seeing her again at her engagement party a month ago had knocked him for a loop. Her cascade of long, dark brown hair with copper highlights was the same. The intelligent flash of her turquoise blue eyes was all he had remembered. She’d returned a full-grown, desirable woman, and that soft spot had developed into a raging attraction. It was the main reason he’d taken on this surveillance rather than delegate it to a staff member.
He’d always known she would marry someone from her level of society. Not some hard guy like him. He came from a low-income family. The eldest son of an alcoholic father who’d died in a drunk driving accident when he was twelve, he knew what it was like to grow up fast. All the same, he was happy to hear about her breakup. He’d never liked Grayson St. James. Even though he was a protégé of Delbert Logan’s, and Samuel Logan viewed him with a friendly eye, Jake was suspicious. Consequently, he’d exceeded his authority to conduct some intense background checks on the man, which thus far, had found nothing.
Jake covered Samantha with the comforter he’d brought down from the loft and then turned away. He needed to keep his head on straight. It was his last mission for Logan Industries and his most important.
He was here keeping an eye on the boathouse. Logan Industries had experienced a loss of technology to other firms. Someone was trying to bring down the firm, making it ripe pickings for a hostile takeover.
While Jake’s staff cast a wide net outside the firm for the perpetrator, he narrowed his sights on the executive suite. Two weeks ago, he’d intercepted an email message that there would be an exchange of information for money at the cabin’s boathouse three nights from now. The message, written by Samantha’s younger brother Tad, had quickly narrowed the list of perpetrators down to one.
Was Samantha mixed up with her brother in this dirty business? It didn’t seem likely, but here she was, a runaway bride, and she wouldn’t tell him the reason for her departure. It was too big a coincidence to ignore. After getting over his initial shock at finding her here, he realized he needed to let her stay to keep an eye on her. He’d soon know if she was trustworthy.
In the meantime, he’d ruthlessly clamp down on his attraction to her. After all, there could be no future between them.
Chapter 2
Samantha rolled over and let out a yelp as she fell off the sofa. She landed on the floor in a flurry of covers.
Stumbling to her feet, she rubbed her bruised posterior. She yawned and stretched, wincing at the kinks in her back.
The aroma of coffee lured her to the kitchen.
Grabbing a mug off the drain board, she poured herself a cup and leaned back against the counter as she took a sip. It was much stronger than she usually made it.
Wrinkling her nose, she stared down at the murky substance as the horror of the previous evening came back to her with a jolt.
