His Unforgettable Fiancée (8 page)

“Maybe I will.” How could she not? But it didn’t feel right. She craved permanence and to her that meant having a place of her own to go home to each night.

At the hotel he walked right past the valet station. Surprised, she hurried to catch up.

“Where are you going?”

“Supposedly I have a room here. I want to check it out.”

“Without any identification?”

“I’m betting they know me. You suggested it yourself earlier.”

The law enforcement officer in her cringed at the notion of the hotel letting just anyone into JD’s—Jackson’s—suite. But then he wasn’t just anyone. He was Jackson Hawke. His identity hadn’t completely sunk in. She’d taken a billionaire to Walmart. Now that was cringe-worthy.

She matched her stride to his as they crossed the marble floor of the huge lobby. The furnishings were modern, the art abstract. As they drew closer to registration, she noted there was a line to check in both for regular guests and for VIPs. She glanced at JD’s profile, wondering what he would do. Would the owner of the hotel stand in line?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hawke. It’s good to see you again.” Ah. Saved by the bell. In this case, the bell captain. “May I assist you with luggage today?”

“No, thank you, Watkins.” JD replied smoothly. “I prefer to go directly to my rooms.”

“Of course. Let me get your key for you.” Watkins stepped around the registration desk and quickly returned with a keycard he presented to JD. “We were not advised you’d be staying with us. Your suite is ready as always, but there are no refreshments. I’ll take care of that immediately.”

“Thank you, Watkins.” JD shoved the key into his pocket. “Perhaps you’ll join us first. You can tell my companion, Ms. Delaney, of all the hotel’s features on the way to our room.”

“Certainly, sir.” Chest puffed out with pride, he ushered her and JD to the elevators where he inserted a keycard before pushing the button for the top floor. “As with all Pinnacle Hotels, the building is modeled after the silver sphere in ‘Unleashed,’ Mr. Hawke’s first game. It has thirty floors representing the thirty levels of the game. Each floor is smaller than the floor below it, creating the rising pinnacle. We have a shopping mall, a salon and spa, a gym complete with sauna, a pool and some of the best restaurants in the city.”

“Everything a girl could want,” Grace mumbled, overwhelmed by what JD owned.

“Including diamonds,” Watkins agreed. “Sullivan’s Jewels has a store in the lobby.”

“We noticed.” She smiled thinly, her shoulders going back. Was he inferring she was with JD because he could buy her diamonds?

“Watkins,” JD said softly from beside her, “You aren’t insulting my guest, are you?”

The chill in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“No, sir.” The man paled. “Never. I cherish my job. Everyone at the Pinnacle does. I would never disrespect you or your guest.” He turned to her. “I apologize if I offended. I just know my wife drools over Sullivan’s displays whenever she comes by.”

“They do have lovely items.” She conjured a smile, embarrassed she’d overreacted. “No harm done.”

JD lifted one dark brow.

Watkins cleared his throat. “I bought my wife a necklace from one of Rett Sullivan’s collections for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She wears it every chance she gets.”

“A wise choice, I’m sure,” JD stated, letting the poor guy off the hook.

The elevator doors opened feeding them into a large foyer. In the middle of the room, a glass pedestal table housed a towering flower arrangement in various shades of blue. Three archways led deeper into the suite. Watkins pressed a button on a remote, and royal blue drapes opened to display a glass wall highlighting the San Francisco skyline.

“I’ll see that refreshments are sent up.” Watkins replaced the remote and returned to the elevator. “May I make reservations at the steak house for you both? Or perhaps you prefer sushi tonight?”

“The steak house,” JD decided. “At eight.”

“Very good, sir. Please call me if you need anything.” The elevator doors closed and he was gone.

“I’m sorry if he upset you.” JD took her hand.

“It was a foolish reaction.” She pulled away, moving toward the skyline. “I guess all this glamour—” she swept an arm out to indicate the posh suite “—is throwing me a bit. I’m not used to penthouse suites.”

The slick, modern feel of the furnishings downstairs were repeated here, but where the blue was an accent color downstairs, it dominated here. The chairs and sofa were large, white and built for comfort, despite the sharp lines of their design. A low glass coffee table seemed to float atop a blue rug swirled through with silver and black.

Across the way stood a dining table that looked as if it came from the captain’s mess of the
U.S.S. Enterprise
and was large enough to seat half the crew. Beyond was a chef’s dream. The gourmet kitchen gleamed with copper and stainless steel.

And all of it opened onto the world.

“This is spectacular, JD. I don’t know how to take it all in.”

She felt his heat behind her and then he was turning her to face him. He lifted her chin on the edge of his hand until her gaze met his.

“How do you think I feel? I own all this. It blows my mind.” He released her chin to run his hand through his hair. “Almost literally. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”

“I’m sorry. I’m making this about me and that’s just wrong.” How could she forget this was about him? So she experienced a little discomfort. It was nothing to what he suffered. She cupped his face, stared into his eyes, automatically checking his pupils. They were even but pain lurked there. “We should go back to our hotel, let you rest before we move in here.”

Annoyance flooded the green irises. “I told you not to baby me.” He retreated to the dining table with his folder from the FBI.

“Then stop making me the bad guy.” She gritted her teeth at his obstinacy, swept over and grabbed the folder. “You have a head trauma. Even without the loss of memory, it’s going to take days to recuperate. You’ve learned enough until some of the pain has subsided. With the concussion you probably can’t read it anyway. And, no, you probably
don’t
wear glasses. I know you don’t want to keep hearing it, but a concussion isn’t something you can dismiss. It can mess with your vision.”

Tucking the folder under her arm, she strolled to the kitchen. She set her purse on the open counter separating the kitchen and dining room and opened the full-size refrigerator. No water, but Watkins had warned them there were no refreshments stocked. In fact, the refrigerator was off, so she turned it on and then moved to the cupboards, where she found a square glass made of fine crystal and ran water into it.

“Drink.” She set the glass on the counter. “You need to stay hydrated. I find when I’m taking pain medicine it helps to drink lots of water.”

He stalked up to the counter, pushed the water aside and held out his hand. “Give me the folder.”

“No.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Except when it affects your health. Then I have veto power. Veto.”

“Grace.”

“JD.” Shoot, shoot. She really needed to remember to use his name. Now she’d lost her edge. Pretending she hadn’t, she lifted her chin and countered. “Jackson.”

He pressed his lips together. “You can call me JD.”

“No, we both need to get used to Jackson.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t. But his hand still demanded the folder. Stubborn.

“Okay.” She took a page from the folder, glanced at it and set it in front of him. “Read me the last paragraph.”

He picked up the paper, looked at it, moved it forward, moved it back. “It’s referencing the Las Vegas property.”

“Yes. Now read the address.”

He scowled at the paper, then tossed it down. “Maybe I do need glasses.”

“No glasses, no contacts. Not according to your California driver’s license.” She tucked the page back in the folder. “It’s the concussion, Jackson. It’s not a weakness, it’s just something you have to get through. I know it chafes, but right now resting is the best thing you can do to help yourself.”

His eyes narrowed and focused intently upon her. Gaze locked on her, he prowled around the end of the counter, the action so predatory she forced her feet not to retreat.

When he got within a foot and kept coming, she planted a hand on his chest. It didn’t stop him. He clasped her hand, drew it down to the side and invaded her space.

“What are you doing?” She reared back.

“This.” He lowered his head and took her mouth with his.

She stiffened. This was not a good idea. But he stood back, claiming her with his mouth only. He lulled her by taking it slow, keeping it easy. He tilted his head to the perfect angle. His lips were moist, soft, mobile, exerting the right amount of pressure. He lingered, seducing her slowly, until she deepened the kiss by stepping into him.

His arms came around her pulling her against him and his tongue swept over her bottom lip seeking entrance. Closing her eyes, she sank into sensation. Her surrender motivated him to heighten the caress to the next level, building heat and passion until she strained against him, wanting to be closer, needing more.

She forgot to breathe and didn’t care. His touch mattered, his taste. A silly thing like air could wait.

He eased back. Chest heaving, he kissed her on the temple. Then released her.

She blinked at him. Was he stopping? Now? Uh-uh. She stepped into him again. This time he caught her hands to keep her from touching him. He shook his head, moved away.

“What the heck, JD?”

He reached for the glass of water and drained it. “You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t mean for it to go so far. After days of lacking memories and feeling like an invalid, I needed to do something that made me feel good and that I’m good at.”

She went still. “You used me?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Y
OU
USED
ME
?”
The stricken expression on Grace’s face ricocheted through JD.

“It wasn’t like that.” He tried to dismiss his blunder. “Come on, let’s see what the rest of this place has to offer.”

He reached for her arm, but she yanked it away.

“I’m sorry, Grace.” He shifted closer and she shifted away. He had to make this right. “I didn’t mean to use you.”

“We talked about keeping our relationship professional.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I know.”

“So how did you mean it?” She cocked her head, blue eyes icy cold. “Is this one of my duties? Am I to make myself available for the occasional kiss whenever you feel the need to show your prowess? Because, oh, yeah, you are accomplished. I got hot, I got bothered.”

“Grace, you can stop. I feel bad, okay?”

“I just need to know what my job duties entail. Am I supposed to moan, to give you audible cues?”

Anger flared. She didn’t need to make such a big deal out of a little kiss. So frustration got the best of him and he lashed out, trying to grab a moment of joy at something he was good at. After the kiss in the bed that first night, he knew they were compatible.

He should have known she’d blow it out of proportion. The women he knew would just go with it. Hell, they’d make the most of the moment. But not by-the-rules Grace. She needed to talk it to death, set parameters, probably write up procedures.

He wanted to order her to forget it, but the heft of that lead balloon wouldn’t fly. He had enough brains not to let his defensiveness get the better of him.

“Can’t we just put this behind us?” He tried for a charming smile. “I probably have a game console here somewhere. We can play a bit, relax. All very restful stuff.”

She simply stared at him. “You know, JD, I’ve given you a lot of leeway. Let things go because I know you’re hurting and that the loss of memory and concussion can make things confusing. But I draw the line at being used as a sensual punching bag. If that’s a condition of helping you, I’m going to have to retract my offer of assistance.”

“Sensual punching bag?” he repeated, offended by her attitude. “You said it was good.”

“I said I got hot and bothered,” she corrected, easing some of the burn only to ratchet it back up by demanding, “Is that the point?”

“No. Look.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Hands-off. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you. Because it happened before, didn’t it? In bed that first night.”

He rubbed a finger over his throbbing temple. “It just happened.”

“It just happened?” she repeated incredulously. “How? Tell me, JD, how does a kiss just happen?”

“Right. I can see you’re not going to be happy until I spill the whole humiliating story.”

Arms crossed over her chest, she lifted one dark eyebrow urging him to get to it already.

“I guess you deserve an apology for that, as well.” To delay the inevitable he walked around the counter and stood facing her with his hands braced on the marble. “I woke up and you were sitting next to me in the bed. You probably meant to test my vitals, check on the current state of the presidency and so on. Anyway, I was half-asleep and you were there and it happened.”

“That’s your story? You woke up and it happened?”

“Yeah,” he pushed back. His actions had been instinctive. “I was half-asleep and you looked sexy with your hair all mussed up. I reached for you without thinking about it.”

With blue eyes narrowed, she studied him as she contemplated his story.

Really? As if he’d make up being a lecherous fool.

“And what happened next?”

Geez, he knew five-year-olds who asked fewer questions. Okay, maybe not, but he wished she’d bury the bone already. How was he supposed to defend himself properly when it hurt to think?

“Once I came to my senses, I broke it off. You checked my vitals and I moved to the other bed.” He glanced away, and straightened the folder on the counter. “That was the end of it.”

“That’s everything?”

“I apologized.”

“An apology isn’t always enough. You can’t be doing this, JD.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, and I am. I don’t want you to quit. I know ours is a professional relationship. And I respect that. But I’ll tell you this, having you around calms me. You ground me in a world out of control. Ever since I realized my memory was gone, it’s all about getting it back, finding my identity. Everything is focused out.

“Kissing you is something I did for me. It brought me peace. It brought me joy. It took me out of myself and into you. And I am sorry if it hurts you, but it just may have saved my sanity. So do I regret it? No.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. Because a kiss involves two people, JD. It can’t just be about you.”

Oh, no, she didn’t. He leaned halfway over the counter. “Don’t pretend you weren’t right there with me.”

Flames flared in her eyes, confirmation she couldn’t deny her full participation. She picked up her purse, and swung the strap over her shoulder. “I think we need a break from each other. I’m going back to the other hotel. I’ll stay there tonight and bring our stuff over in the morning.”

She swung around and headed toward the arch leading to the foyer.

No. This wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“Grace,” he called out. “You don’t have to go.”

“I really do.”

But she stopped and came back. His spirits lifted. She wasn’t leaving him, after all.

She grabbed the folder. “I’m taking this with me.” Without waiting for a response she headed out again. “Enjoy your steak dinner.”

A moment later the door closed with a distinct thud.

He wasn’t feeling any joy now.

Wait, the women he knew? That was strange. Not that the women in his past had little in common with Grace—he was getting used to the certainty without foundation. But he’d experienced no pain with the thought.

If Grace was here, she’d probably claim it was a sign of his mind healing.

Testing, he tried focusing on his last girlfriend; he opened his mind and tried to picture her here. Pain shattered through his head. Nausea curled in his stomach. Dots danced before his eyes. He dropped onto a dining room chair and lowered his head between his knees.

Sweet merciful dog biscuits. As the ringing in his ears began to fade, he conceded. Maybe he did need to rest.

* * *

Grace let herself into the Pinnacle Express hotel room and tossed her purse on the bed. She needed this time alone. JD had her so off-kilter she didn’t know how to act.

Her mind buzzed, refusing to settle on a single thought. She was flustered. And a master-at-arms never got flustered.

She hadn’t signed up for this. She’d agreed to a professional relationship.

Kissing did not belong in a professional relationship.

She dropped into the armchair and looked out on the pool. It was empty, the cool weather chasing most guests away. But in the far corner a small family enjoyed the bubbling spa.

Her bubbling emotions were much less fun.

The memory of their first kiss rolled on the screen in her head. The temptation of him sprawled nearly naked on the bed, the surprise of him reaching for her, the tenderness in his touch, the sensual feel of his mouth on hers. And him pushing her away.

Except she wasn’t one for self-deception. And she didn’t miss the fact he was the one to pull away in both encounters. She obviously had no restraint when it came to him. And, just as obviously, he did. So she’d given in to her instincts to flee, to put time and distance between them. If she was smart, she’d keep going.

Yet she’d committed to helping him.

And she had. He now knew his name. Jackson Hawke, billionaire. The truth was he didn’t need her anymore. Sure, he felt vulnerable, but he had grit and fortitude. He’d be fine. His people could give him the support he needed to find his way in the corporate world. In fact, they’d be better qualified than her by far.

But she took pride in keeping her promises. And she understood the desire to prep before putting yourself in an unknown situation.

She liked helping him. Being honest, she admitted he’d helped her, too. In the beginning the challenge of his situation gave her something to focus on at a time when she was at a loss.

The problem was he kept breaking the rules.

The kiss changed things. Her response changed everything.

She’d worked with men too long not to know they pushed the limits at every opportunity. She’d been kissed on the job before, but she’d managed to correct the misguided fool’s perception of their relationship and still work effectively with him.

Not with JD. No chance of pretending he hadn’t melted her insides. He’d called her on that bit of self-deception.

Best to end their connection now. The obvious chemistry between them would only complicate their working relationship. Because unlike the other instances of men crossing the line with her, she actually liked kissing JD. A lot.

She pushed to her feet and began gathering JD’s things into the bag he’d bought. Cheap things he’d probably never use. Another reason to end things between them. They were from different worlds. He was high finance, glitz and glamour at its peak. She was a military brat, a law enforcement officer with an uncertain future.

And she hadn’t missed the fact he had no residence beyond hotel suites. They really had nothing in common.

So why did she miss him so much?

* * *

JD missed Grace as soon as she walked through the door. She was the only constant in the short memory of this life.

Jackson Hawke, billionaire. How freaky was that?

He wandered the suite, taking in the luxurious accommodations. There were three bedrooms and five bathrooms, including a master bath as big as the sleeping rooms he and Grace had stayed in the past few nights.

It all felt so foreign.

More familiar was the computer room, which looked like a James Bond command center. And the media/game room, furnished theater-style in dark gold, deep brown and comfortable leather. Sliding into the center seat, he ran his hand over the console. Oh, yeah, he felt right at home.

Too bad he had no one to share the moment with.

Missing Grace, he continued to wander. He found a closet with a full wardrobe of clothes. Everything from jeans to a tuxedo. All in his size. Poking around, he pulled open a drawer and found a safe. He pressed the switch at the bottom and a palm plate lit up.

He stared down at it.

“Here goes nothing.” He placed his palm on the plate. Tumblers clicked and the plate beneath his hand lifted.

Guess that settled the doubts percolating in the back of his head that the FBI had made a mistake. Something eased in him at the confirmation. Flipping the lid, his eyebrows popped up to his hairline. Cash, lots of it, filled half the box, which was about the size of a large laptop computer but about eight inches deep. A few pieces of masculine jewelry were tossed in the other half, including another watch—expensive, but not as nice as the Cartier. Under the jewelry were some papers, but he didn’t bother looking at them.

He wouldn’t be able to read them anyway.

Ah, score. No need to be able to read to recognize the passport he plucked from a plastic sleeve at the back. His brows rocketed again when he opened it to find it nearly full with stamps from foreign lands. It appeared he was well traveled.

He looked around to share it with Grace—actually walked into the next room looking for her before he recalled she’d left. So he reached into his pocket for a phone. Only he didn’t have one. Damn concussion, messing with his head. It wasn’t the first time he’d blipped on something so obvious. This one, like the others, he’d keep to himself.

Missing Grace, and grumpy over the fact he couldn’t contact her, he returned to the closet, did a quick count of the cash—three hundred thousand dollars—snagged a bundle worth five thousand and then closed and reset the safe.

A knock came at the door. He answered to find housekeeping had arrived to stock the suite. He left them to it and headed downstairs. At the concierge desk Watkins came to attention.

“Mr. Hawke, how can I help you?”

“I have a few things I need. I’m hoping you can help me.”

“Of course.”

JD laid out his requests and received the same compliant response. Yeah, he could get used to this. When he finished, he gave Watkins a few bills to cover the costs and another for a tip.

Then he strolled across the lobby to Sullivan’s Jewels. Maybe he could find something that would help Grace accept his apology. But he’d have to be thoughtful about it. He didn’t want to upset her and end up owing her another apology.

* * *

Grace’s cell phone rang startling her from a light doze as she watched TV. “Hello.”

“Hi, Grace.” A deep male voice came down the line.

“JD?” Her heartbeat quickened. A reaction she dismissed as surprise. She didn’t think he had her number.

“Yeah. I had Watkins pick up a phone for me.”

Of course he did. “Did you need something?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you had a chance to read through the file.”

Her gaze went to the file open on the bed next to her. “I flipped through it. Doug gave you the highlights. I’ll do a search for your key personnel tonight and we can go over the information tomorrow.”

“How about tonight? Come back, join me for dinner.”

She hesitated, tempted to do just that. The very fact she wanted to explained why she couldn’t. “I think it’s best if we take this time apart.”

“So you said.” He sounded disappointed. Or was that wishful thinking? “Let me know if you change your mind.”

* * *

Grace stormed into Jackson’s suite. She powered right through the foyer into the living area. The fact he wasn’t there blasted her ire further up the scale.

“Jackson Hawke, show yourself.” The sharp demand rolled through the rooms.

“You’re back.” He appeared in the arched doorway.

“You have some nerve.” She tossed her purse on the white couch. “How dare you have me evicted from my room at the Pinnacle Express hotel?”