Heartbreaker. Joanne Rock

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