Merry and Bright (26 page)

“What were you trying to do?” Matt asked Belinda. “You got your own father kicked out of here.”

“He deserved it! He was cheating on my mom. With a
guy.
” Belinda shuddered. “And everyone here acted so self-righteous about it.”

“So you hurt them, too?”

“Yes! And maybe you were next.”

Matt shook his head. “You couldn’t have gotten me, Belinda.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m smarter than you are.”

Cami couldn’t believe it! Didn’t he see the gun right in his face? She could scarcely breathe for fear it’d go off by accident.

Belinda’s hand wavered, probably with rage. Jesus. Cami took another step and raised the tube of plans. Matt looked up, and so did Belinda, at the same time lifting the gun, just as Cami closed her eyes and brought the plans down on Belinda’s forearm, hard.

The gun flew into the air, then hit the floor, and with a frustrated, rage-filled howl, Belinda whipped around to face Cami.

“I figure I just saved you a long prison visit,” Cami said. “You can thank me later.”

Belinda let out an enraged scream and took a step toward her, but instead of strangling her, as Cami half-braced for, Belinda ran out of the office.

Matt strode to Cami and hauled her against him. Tense with fear and fury, he ran his searing eyes over her. “Are you all right?”

He was looking at her as if she was his entire world. She loved that. She loved him. “Of course I’m all right. You were the one with the gun in your face, you stupid, stupid man!” She tugged his face down and kissed him. “Hell of a time to realize I love you. We have to go after her.”

He gripped her arms, lifted her up to her toes. “What?”

“I said we have to go after her—”

“The other thing.”

“Later.” She was shaking. “We have to—”

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I love you.”

He leaned in and kissed her, one hard, warm connection. “I love you, too. So damn much.”

The words filled her, warmed her. She was in shock. And she was in love. Heady combination.

“I wanted to be your hero,” he said. “But you saved yourself.”

She ran her hands up his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her fingers. It steadied her.
He
steadied her. “It’s okay. It’s all part of that New Year’s resolution. I’m going for it, remember? At all times.”

“But you always go for it.”

“At work, yes. But I’m expanding to other areas. Like my personal life.”

His eyes shined with emotion. “You going for me, Cami?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. How does that feel, Mr. Mayor?”

He glanced at his watch. Two minutes past midnight. “Like the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” And he pulled her close.

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A
rustle sounded from behind Noah, startling the shit out of him, but before he could react, something jammed into his shoulder, something that unbelievably felt an awful lot like a—

Gun?

“Keep flying,” said a ragged voice. “Just keep flying.”

Holy shit
. Noah craned his neck. The soft, fuzzy blanket he kept on the backseat was on the floor now. She’d been hiding beneath it, and yeah, the person behind him was most definitely a she. Once upon a time, he’d been considered an expert on the species, and despite her gruff, uneven tones, her voice shimmered with nerves.

Female nerves.

Unbelievably, he’d just been hijacked by a nervous woman with a gun. He tried to get a good look at her, but the gun shifted to his jaw, shoving his head forward before he could take in more than a big, bulky sweater with a hood down low over her face—

“Don’t turn around,” she demanded. “Just keep us in the air.”

He could. He’d been a pilot ever since the day he’d been old enough, flying on a daily basis, either for a job or on a whim, into a storm or with one on his ass, without much thought.

He was giving it plenty of thought now. “Hell, no.” His fingers tightened on the yoke.
Goddamnit
. “What the fuck is this?”

“You’re flying me to Mammoth Mountain.”

“Hell, no, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have no choice.” Then she let out a disparaging, desperate sound and softened her voice. “Look, just get us there, okay? Get us there and everything will be all right.”

Yeah, except that she didn’t sound as if she believed that line of crap, and he sure as hell didn’t believe it either. Worse, he suddenly had a nasty flashback to another of his flights that had gone bad, six months ago. Only in that one, there’d been no gun, just a hell of a storm in Baja, California, where he’d hit a surprise thunderstorm, one with a vicious kick. That time he’d ended up on a side of a mountain in a fiery crash, holding his passenger as she died in his arms....

So really, in comparison, this flight, with a measly gun at his back, should be a piece of cake. Just a day in the life.

Knowing it, he swiped a forearm over his forehead and concentrated on breathing. Maybe she was all talk, no show. Maybe she didn’t really know how to use the weapon. Maybe he could talk her out of the insanity that had become his life today. “How did you get in here?”

The gun remained against his shoulder, but not as hard, as if maybe she didn’t want to hurt him. “No questions, or I’ll—”

“What?
Shoot?”

She didn’t answer.

Yeah, all talk, no show, he decided, and reached over to switch his radio on, then went very still at the feel of the muzzle just beneath his jaw now.

“Don’t,” she said, sounding more desperate, if that was even possible. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

Hell if he’d suffer this quietly, and he braced himself for action, but then she added a low, softly uttered, “
Please
.”

Jesus, he felt like such a fool. Who the hell was she? She’d been careful to stay just behind him, just out of range of his peripheral. He could smell her, though, some complicated mixture of exotic flowers and woman, which under very different circumstances he’d find sexy as hell.

But not today, the day that was quickly turning into a living nightmare. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not when he was getting back on the horse. Wasn’t that what Shayne and Brody had told him to do,
get back on the horse
.

And he had.

Was.

Hence the ski/fuck-his-brains-out weekend.

What the hell was in Mammoth that was worth hijacking someone? And why was she so desperate to get there? Instinct had him checking the gauges, looking for a place to land.

“No.” The gun was an emphasis, back to pressing hard between his shoulder blades. “We’re going to Mammoth. Just like you planned.”

“I didn’t plan for this.”

“You have a passenger now, that’s all. Everything else is the same.”

Yeah, he had a passenger. A shaking, unnerved, freaked-out desperate one.

Give him a thunderstorm in Cabo any day over this....

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S
he’d promised herself she’d do this. No running, no avoiding, just face it head-on and get it done. But as Dani Peterson bent for her broken-off heel, she felt her resolve slip.

Running like hell would have been so much easier.

Damn it.

All she’d asked of herself was to get through this with a shred of dignity, but that would be a little tough now, wouldn’t it, while minus a heel.

Ah, well. Her family already believed her a little off, why not just go ahead and prove it by looking the part.

But then came the voice.

The low, husky male voice asking, “Are you okay?”

She sighed as she eyed her offending heel. “That depends.”

“On?”

On whether or not she could find room in her budget to replace the shoes. “Nothing. I’m fine. Thanks.” Blowing a strand of hair from her mouth, she glanced over just as he crouched at her side.

And felt the most ridiculous schoolgirl urge to blush and stammer. Because wow.

Seriously wow.

He smiled at her. And although everything about him—his confidence, his clothes, his ease—all projected old money and class—not to mention a sophistication she couldn’t have faked on her best day—he wasn’t
GQ
perfect.

No, nothing as easy to shrug off as
GQ
perfect.

Instead, his hair had been finger combed at best, the sun-streaked wheat strands shoved back off his face, where it fell in unruly waves to his collar. His mouth was wide, quirked in a half smile that revealed a single heart-stopping dimple on the left side, the same side as the scar that slashed his eyebrow in half over a set of golden eyes with laugh lines at the corners.

He apparently smiled, and often.

His nose had been broken at least once, the bump only adding more character to a face that already had it in spades. He was bigger than her last boyfriend, but truthfully it had been so long she could hardly remember if she’d had to go up on tiptoe to kiss him. She’d definitely have to get up on tiptoe for this guy, and why she was even thinking such a thing was ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, hoping that by saying so multiple times she could make it true. “Really. Just fine.” Uh-huh, and now she sounded like an idiot as well as looked like one. “So fine . . .”

God
. She rambled when she was nervous, and she was very nervous now. “Super fine.”
Shut up, shut up
.

With a smile, he put his hand on her arm. It was a big hand, warm and strong, much like the rest of him. He had to bend because he was well over six feet, and while she was noticing that, she couldn’t fail to continue to notice the rest. He definitely had a build to go with the height, an athletic one, not a gym-made one, the kind that under normal circumstances would have made her swallow her own tongue.

But since she’d embarrassed herself enough already, she told herself no tongue swallowing, and to make sure of it, avoided looking directly into his face. It should help the problem of finding his . . . maleness so utterly unsettling and intimidating.

Movements easy and fluid, he pulled her to her feet, still touching her in a way that woke things within her, things that had been dormant for a long, long time. Yes, he was attractive, but also astonishingly, remarkably . . .
male
.

And as if all that wasn’t potent enough, he looked right into her face, and whoa baby, those golden eyes were full, deep, and direct in a way that said he could read her all the way to the bone.

If that was the case, she was in big trouble.

Around them, the party was noisy, festive with holiday cheer and decorations, complete with sprigs of mistletoe. It was crowded with happy revelers—ever ything that she usually avoided. Mostly, she’d rather have a root canal without the benefit of good meds than dress up and make nice with rich, spoiled people, but she’d used that excuse last time.

So here she was, being physically supported by one of them, no less. Since she barely came to his shoulder, she had to balance on her one heel for some desperately needed height.

He smiled, and while maybe he wasn’t exactly
GQ
material, he’d certainly dressed for the cover, wearing gorgeously cut black pants and a soft-looking whiskey-colored shirt that matched his eyes, clothes that had clearly been made for his long, leanly muscled body.

They were not in the same tax bracket. Not even close.

“Let me find you a place to sit,” he said. “It’s too nice an evening to be rushing around.”

She sensed he didn’t do a lot of rushing. There was something relaxed and laid-back about him.

And gorgeous. Let’s not forget gorgeous.
“I’m good, thanks.”

“Would you like a drink?”

After which he’d likely vanish as quickly as he could. It was nothing personal, she knew. She just wasn’t the sort of woman to keep a man like this interested for long, though she spared a second to wish that for once she could act like her mother’s daughter. That for once she could simply go after whatever she wanted.

Because what she wanted was a chance beneath the mistletoe, if only for a moment... “So why aren’t you out there having fun? Drinking or dancing, or . . .” As was its habit, her tongue ran away from her brain. “Or making the most of that mistletoe?”

His eyes lit with good humor, and that dimple flashed. “Maybe I don’t have someone to make the most of it with.”

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C
ould this day have gotten any worse? Maddie wondered as Brody followed her through the house. She passed through the laundry room, where Leena had some of her bras hanging up to dry. She ducked beneath them, but even when he ducked, Brody managed to hit a hanger. A black, lacy panty fell to the floor.

He bent and picked it up, the thing looking incredibly small and feminine in his hands.

With a sound that she meant to be annoyance but might have been something else entirely, she snatched it from him, stretching to hang it back up. As she moved, she felt him at her back. She always felt him, but more today than she ever had before.

She’d missed him
.

Hell of an admission.

He was eyeing the rest of the drying lingerie, not saying a word but clearly thinking plenty. “My sister’s,” she said and walked on.

He followed. Of course, he followed.

She couldn’t shake him, and she sure as hell hadn’t managed to distract him either. She was definitely losing her touch. Stopping in the front hall, she looked pointedly at the door. He set a big, warm hand on the small of her back until she turned and looked at him.

She got that she’d inadvertently triggered all of his alpha male, drag-his-knuckles-on-the-ground tendencies. It was all over his face, in the hard angles of his jaw, in the set lines of his mouth, in the way his eyes were so intense and stormy and utterly focused on her.