The Risk-Taker. Kira Sinclair

of her thighs. Gage couldn’t tear his eyes away. Desire, hot and hard, punched through him. He almost stumbled.

      After a quick, calming breath, Gage followed her inside the office just in time to watch her sink gracefully into the chair behind a large desk. The blotter was perfectly clean. Two folders, neatly labeled, sat to her left. A matching tape dispenser, stapler and hole punch were lined up beside them along with a cup of pens and a basket of paper clips. Just like her flawless suit, there was no clutter.

      He wanted to loosen her up. To unravel that elegant twist in her hair and tousle it with his fingers. To pop open a few of those tightly closed buttons so that he could see the lace camisole beneath. To scrape everything off her desk and lay her out beneath him …

      Oh, crap, where had that come from?

      “Are you here to give me that interview, Gage?”

      Clearing his throat and tossing the unwanted fantasy away, he dropped into the chair across from her. “Hell, no.” He sprawled, his long legs reaching beneath the desk to brush against the toe of her shoe.

      She pulled it back. Gage’s lips twitched.

      “Then why are you here?”

      “I’m hiding.”

      “From whom?”

      “Does it matter?”

      She studied him for several seconds before slowly saying, “Yes, I think it does.”

      Gage shrugged. “Some reporters tracked me into Lexi’s store. I have no idea how they found me.” He placed his elbows on the opposite edge and leaned halfway across her desk. She started to back away, but stopped herself. He stared straight at her, hard and deadly, just for the fun of watching her eyes flash indignantly. “Any idea how they could have known I was in there?”

      Hope’s mouth tightened with annoyance. “You’re kidding, right? Your photograph was splashed on every news outlet for weeks. They’ve been camped out here since before you were rescued. Unless you walk around town with a paper bag over your head, you’re doomed.”

      “Don’t you think the paper bag would defeat the purpose? I mean, isn’t that a little conspicuous?”

      Hope’s mouth twisted into a pitiful approximation of a smile. “Funny. And as much as I’d love to help you—” her tone of voice called that statement all kinds of liar “—we have a business to run, Gage. So unless you’re here for official reasons—”

      “I’m not giving you an interview.”

      “—you need to leave.”

      She stood up from her desk, tugged at the hem of her skirt to make sure it was straight and walked around to stand expectantly beside him. Gage didn’t move. Instead, he turned his head and got a great view of the curve of her hip and ass. Why would he want to leave? He was perfectly happy right here.

      Slowly, his eyes tracked upward. His head dropped back so he could see the tight expression on her face. Old habits died hard and he wanted to do something completely inappropriate to wipe it away. “You’re going to throw me out? In my time of need?”

      “You forget, I know you’re about as helpless as a rattlesnake. And if I needed a reminder, you gave it to me last night. Out.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder toward her open doorway.

      Reluctantly, Gage unfolded from the chair. But instead of going around the opposite side, he crowded into Hope’s personal space. She didn’t back down. He’d always admired her tenacity. It probably made her a damn good journalist. Well, it would have if she’d had the chance to sink her teeth into any stories.

      Dread and anticipation coiled through him as he realized he was the story she’d decided to sink into. A vision of her pert mouth stretched wide as her sharp teeth dug into his naked hip almost made him groan.

      He wanted to grab her, to pull her into him and kiss her until he forgot everything but the feel of her mouth. It wasn’t a new desire, although he hadn’t felt it in a very long time. How inconvenient for it to suddenly resurface.

      She must have realized something had changed because she stepped back. Her spine pressed into the wall. Her palms flattened against the uninteresting tan surface. The drab background only served to emphasize the stark contrast of her pink-tinged skin and watchful, wary green-gold eyes.

      She drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising against the tight confines of her jacket. She held it for several seconds before blowing it slowly out again. That kind of control had always fascinated Gage. Hope was so … contained.

      She didn’t need anything or anyone. When they were younger he’d thought of himself as the one exception to that rule. It had always made him feel special, especially when he couldn’t seem to do anything else right. But, as it turned out, she’d been able to cut him out of her life with little fuss.

      He closed the space between them. Her body stiffened.

      He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her scent surrounded him, something sweet with a hint of spice running underneath. Perfectly Hope. He could feel the heat of her. It warmed him in a way that even the hottest day in the middle of the desert hadn’t been able to do.

      Her lips parted. He didn’t think it was intentional, but the motion still drew his attention.

      Instead of doing what he wanted, Gage reached up and poked her straight in the ribs.

      She wheezed, a sound halfway between laughter and surprise, and bent sideways away from his finger.

      “What are you doing?” She slapped his hand away and he let her.

      “Rumpling that perfect exterior.”

      “What perfect exterior?”

      “The one you’ve expertly crafted to make people forget that you spent years loudly telling everyone just how far you were planning to get from this place. Funny, looks like you didn’t get quite as far as you’d hoped.”

      The flash of hurt was quick and immediately covered with narrow-eyed pique. But he saw it. And regretted that he’d caused it.

      But he shouldn’t. The fact that anything he said had the power to wound her was surprising. Although it didn’t exactly change anything.

      He moved in closer. He was tall, and as Hope was wearing heels, they were almost perfectly matched. Gage brought his mouth to the tender shell of her ear and whispered, “I know exactly who you are, Hope. Your most intimate secrets. The sound of your laughter. The smell of your favorite shampoo. How you nibbled the cap on your pen during tests. Did you know I spent years fantasizing about getting my hands on you?”

      He pulled back, studying her for some reaction, although he wasn’t exactly certain what. Maybe surprise. Or distaste. Or possibly even interest. He didn’t find any of those things, just an alert cautiousness.

      She wanted something from him. It should have felt better to be able to deny her. Just like she’d denied him so many years ago. When he’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her that all those times he’d asked her out hadn’t been a joke. That he meant it every single time and had wanted her for years. And each time she’d uttered the word no it had wounded him just a little.

      He was so close that he could see the golden flecks in her eyes. The leery burn of them. He stared straight into her and said, “Disappointment’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

      SHE FUMED, SILENTLY, UNABLE to move away from the wall even after he’d gone. Her body shook with a combination of anger and relief.

      “Was that Gage Harper I just saw leaving?”

      Her dad walked into her office and plopped down into the chair Gage had just occupied.

      His silver-brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d either just rolled out of bed or spent the past several hours tugging at the thinning strands. Hope wanted to think that it was the latter, but she was afraid