“What were you thinking just now?” Carson asked in an intimate voice.

“That I’d be a fool to fall for you.”

He studied her awhile, not showing any reaction. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, and they walked out of the restaurant. A valet summoned Carson’s limo. The excessive show of wealth should have repulsed her. Instead, it was a fitting end to a wonderful evening—a drive home in a princess carriage. Everything she’d previously thought about rich people wasn’t true tonight.

Carson tugged Georgia’s hand. She stopped and faced him.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he said.

“I did, too.”

“I won’t tease you about that.” He grinned, sexy and full of affection.

Her heart flopped into more excited beats.

“I’d like to do this again, Georgia.”

“Oh … I …” She may as well have melted right there.

He slid his arm all the way around her, pulling her close. And then he kissed her … before she could react. His mouth over hers sent tingles of shocking pleasure all the way through her, brewing desire she wasn’t expecting.

“Gun!” someone shouted.

The Marine’s Temptation

Jennifer Morey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two-time RITA® Award nominee and Golden Quill Award winner JENNIFER MOREY writes single-title contemporary romance and page-turning romantic suspense. She has a geology degree and has managed export programmes in compliance with the International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR) for the aerospace industry. She lives at the feet of the Rocky Mountains in Denver, Colorado, and loves to hear from readers through her website, jennifermorey.com, or Facebook.

For my twin sister, Jackie,

my number one supporter.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Perceptions didn’t always reveal the truth about a man. What he appeared to be and what he was could be two different things. Surface and depth. The surface reflected the shell of the man, what he looked like, what he said, what he did. Underneath that, a well of secrets lurked. Painful secrets that death exposed. Ruthless and indifferent in life. Human in death. That about summed up Reginald Adair. Few had liked him, but then, no one had really known him, had they?

Carson Adair marveled over how little he knew his father when he thought he had. He spread his hands over the top of the desk. How would his father have felt sitting here? Powerful. Accomplished.

Detached.

Sad.

Human...

Carson would not have associated that word with his dad prior to his murder. But a gnawing curiosity had nestled inside him. If his father hadn’t been who he’d thought, who had he been?

He imagined what it must have been like to be the man at the top of a thriving telecommunications corporation, running the competition into the ground, doing whatever it took to keep shareholders happy and revenue flowing. Not caring about anything or anyone else. Maybe he rarely noticed the spectacular view of downtown San Diego. Maybe he rarely enjoyed a lunch or dinner for anything other than a business meeting.

His wife. His kids. He couldn’t have had many fond memories about them. Turns out Reginald had been consumed by the kidnapping of his first-born son. Indifference had hidden his grief. No one had known about Jackson Adair until the reading of the will. Carson had seen the reports from his father’s secret investigation.

Lost in what it must have been like to be Reginald Adair, he still couldn’t say he knew or even liked his father. He definitely couldn’t say he loved him. But he was moved by the discovery that the man had real emotions, that he’d carried such a weighty burden all these years—and kept to himself. It explained so much. That his father was capable of love, that he must have loved his firstborn son and his first wife, two things he’d never mentioned to anyone. Carson wondered if Patsy would have been a different woman had she been able to make Reginald love her the way he must have loved his first family. Had his aloofness led to her killing him? It would appear so, since she had fled the country and was the prime suspect in his murder case.

Although his father was dead, Carson was getting to know him for the first time. That dredged up so much conflict in him. Until now, he’d strove to be everything his father wasn’t. Do and be whatever earned his father’s disapproval. Now he felt a connection to the man. He cared about giving him justice and finding the son who had been taken from him. And in the process, knowing him as he’d never had.

People said he was just like Reginald and that had always annoyed him. Maybe it still did. Back then, he’d wanted to get as far away from his father and his empire as he could. His mother, too, but as a boy, it had been his father’s approval he’d craved. To get that, he’d have had to devote his life to his father’s dream. AdAir Corp. When he’d grown into a young man, he’d done the opposite. He’d rebelled and joined the Marines. His father had been so angry when he’d informed him. And Carson had been nothing but glad that he was mad.

His gaze fell to a photograph facing him on the desk. It was of Landry and Whit with Reginald. They stood in this office, smiling with warmth Carson would have called fake before learning about Jackson. Something in the background caught his eye. It was a blue ceramic bowl on top of a wood-and-glass display case along the wall next to the door. Carson looked there. The cabinet was there but the ceramic bowl was missing. The picture looked fairly recent.

Where was the bowl, and was there anything significant about it?

“Meeting’s started, Mr. Adair.”

Whit’s secretary stood in the doorway of the office.

Carson stood. “Right. Thanks.” He’d lost track of time. “You have the envelope?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll wait for your call.”

“Thanks.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to call her.

Taking the papers he’d been studying earlier, he left the office and walked down the bright and wide hallway of AdAir Corp with a limp that embittered him when he dwelled on it too much. Nothing like facing the rest of his life with a constant reminder of what he could no longer have. Mobility. A career in the Marines.

Reaching the conference room where the mediation meeting had been scheduled regarding Patsy’s dispute over his father’s will, Carson entered. Everyone was already there: his brother, Whit, sister, Landry, Georgia Mason and her stepmother, Ruby, and two attorneys—one Patsy had apparently hired on her own to represent her dispute, and the mediation lawyer. Despite the crowd of people, Carson noticed Georgia right away. Long, luxurious, dark red hair cascaded over her shoulders. The pencil skirt trimmed her curvy waist and her long, slender legs were bare from the knees down. Her dark green eyes glared at him from across the room. Everyone else had taken a seat but her. She was still mad at him. Mad at every Adair in the room. But her beauty struck him just as much as the first time he’d seen her. The sight of her really got his testosterone going.

“Glad you could make it,” she said.

“Sorry. I got hung up in Reginald’s office.” He limped over to her. It wasn’t a horrible limp, beastly but only a little.

After nodding to Whit and Landry, he put the papers facedown on the table, then went to Georgia and pulled out a chair for her.

Her eyes traveled down and then rose up his body, curious about his limp and then all fire when she met his eyes.

“Have a seat, Ms. Mason,” he said cajolingly.

“After you, Mr. Adair.” She didn’t reciprocate his tone, hers having a decided edge.

He grinned and saw Ruby smiling at the exchange. At sixty, she was a little thin but attractive with light brown hair and hazel eyes. She looked nothing like Georgia, although Georgia would probably age just as gracefully as Ruby had.

“Mrs. Mason,” he said.

“Mr. Adair.”

After acknowledging the mediation lawyer, he saved his next greeting for last. It was Patsy’s attorney. Before she’d left the country, she’d given him explicit instructions regarding her dispute over Ruby Mason’s inheritance and the authority to sign on her behalf. Carson planned to squash her intentions today.

The beady-eyed, short, stocky, balding attorney gave a nod in greeting.

“Shall we begin?” the mediation lawyer said. His name was Schmidt. He was skinny and had all of his blond hair. Georgia had chosen him, and the rest of them had agreed to meet to sign an agreement today, to settle this dispute outside of court.

Carson waited for Georgia to sit down.

When she did, he took the seat beside her, seeing how she sat straighter, ramrod stiff. She didn’t like him at first sight, and his desire to charm her went beyond what would be required for a casual acquaintance. Luckily, he had enough of his father in him to maintain a business sense and stay professional.

“We’re here today because Patsy Adair doesn’t think Ruby Mason should have any share of the inheritance,” the mediator started things off.

“I believe I speak for my brother and sister when I say Ruby is entitled to whatever our father decided to give her.” Carson took over the meeting.

Schmidt looked at him, not approving but not stopping him.

“He obviously wanted her to have something,” Carson continued, “so I propose we make this meeting short and simple and agree that it isn’t our right to change his will. Are we all in agreement?”

“I am,” Whit said. Dressed in a dark suit, impeccably trimmed and looking the part of Adair’s new leader, he sat in a confident pose.

“I am,” Landry echoed. She seemed loopy, as if she’d taken something before coming here. Ever since their father’s murder and especially the announcement that Patsy was his suspected murderer, she had not been herself. Carson was getting worried about her.

“Speaking on behalf of Patsy,” Patsy’s attorney said. “I—”

“You’ll sign this agreement or I’ll contest her share. I’ve already spoken with Whit and Landry. They support my decision.”

“You can’t do that,” Patsy’s attorney said. “All parties have to be present and sign a mediation agreement. Patsy would never agree to this.” He swung his hand toward the document on the table in front of Schmidt.

“Yes, I can contest her share. She is suspected of murder, as you are well aware.”

“Being suspect and proven guilty are two different things, Mr. Adair. I won’t sign any agreement that gives Ms. Mason any portion of Reginald’s will.”

“You’re authorized to sign on her behalf.”

“Yes, I am.” He wore a smug look. He had the power.

All right. Carson preferred to keep this civil, but Patsy’s attorney gave him no choice. “Might I have a word with you in private?”

Carson stood. He extended his hand to the conference room door.

Patsy’s attorney’s smug look changed to confusion.

“Anything you have to say should be said in front of everyone,” Schmidt said.

“I’m sure you won’t want me to say what I have to say in public.”

Patsy’s attorney’s eyes twitched in question. And then concern. A guilty person always knew when their crimes had been discovered.

Whit looked at him with a nod of encouragement, and Landry looked as if she didn’t care. She probably just wanted to get out of here.

When the attorney didn’t move, Carson said, “I’m more than happy to oblige Mr. Schmidt.”

Patsy’s attorney stood. “Excuse us a moment.”

Carson led him across the hall to a smaller conference room he’d had one of the assistants reserve. On the table was an envelope that contained copies of what Whit’s assistant had.

“I hired a private investigator to obtain these photographs. If you don’t sign on behalf of Patsy, they go to your wife.”

Patsy’s attorney looked from the envelope to Carson. Then he snatched up the envelope and slid out the first of several photos. He didn’t look at any others. The first one was enough, as Carson suspected it would be.

“What kind of businessman are you?” Patsy’s attorney asked.

“I’m not.” He’d run as far and fast away from business as he could. He didn’t even work for AdAir Corp. And he didn’t like feeling as though he was acting just like his father, using blackmail to get what he wanted. His only justification was that he had to right a wrong, Patsy’s wrong, and to honor his father’s wishes. For that, he’d do anything. This was a quick and sure way to see that Patsy no longer poisoned his family.

“You think you can get away with blackmailing me?”

“I prefer to think of it as blackmailing my mother.”

Patsy’s attorney scoffed. “Your family is despicable.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Patsy that if she isn’t guilty of murdering my father.” Otherwise, he’d have to agree that at least his mother was despicable.

“Your mother has a legitimate reason for disputing Reginald’s will.”

“Jealousy is not a legitimate reason.” Carson took a step closer. Taller than him by six inches or more, he loomed over him. “Sign the agreement or your wife finds out about your double life.”

“Don’t you care at all about your own mother’s wishes?”

He shook his head. “Not in the least.”

“This is preposterous!” Patsy’s attorney slapped the envelope down onto the table. “I won’t stand for it.”

“Your choice.” Carson pressed the speaker on the phone and called Whit’s assistant.

“Yes, Mr. Adair,” she said.

“Go ahead and deliver the package.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Wait!” Patsy’s attorney jerked forward toward the phone as though the assistant could see him try to stop her. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’ll sign?” Carson asked.

“Yes.”

“Never mind, Carol. Wait for me to stop by your desk.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carson ended the call. “If you don’t go into that conference room and sign the agreement, I will have those photos couriered to your wife this morning.”

“You’re as ruthless as your father.”

Carson had never blackmailed anyone before, and it didn’t come easy to him. “Perhaps you should be more particular about the clients you represent.” He stepped toward the door.

“What about these?” Patsy’s attorney gestured to the photos.

“They’re yours. The originals will go into my personal safe.”

Anger flared from the attorney’s eyes. He picked up the envelope and took it with him.

Back in the conference room, Schmidt looked suspicious. Whit already knew what this was about.

“I signed the agreement, Carson.” Landry stood. “I’m going to go now.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”

She left the room while Schmidt, Georgia and Ruby watched Patsy’s attorney stuff the envelope into his briefcase.

“We’re all ready to sign the agreement.”

Georgia looked stunned, gaping at him, no doubt wondering how he’d done it. And why.

Patsy’s attorney signed the agreement and stood, picking up his briefcase. With a last glare at Carson, he stormed out of the conference room.

“What did you do?” Georgia asked.

“That’s between me and him.” He handed Ruby a pen. “It’s not important anymore. What’s important is that he signed.”

She took it and signed the mediation agreement.

“I’ll let you know when the transaction takes place,” Carson said.

She smiled warmly up at him. “Thank you, Mr. Adair. Your father would be so proud.”

He grunted derisively. “You have no idea.”

You’re as ruthless as your father. He’d done whatever was necessary to repair the damage Patsy had left behind when she’d fled. He wasn’t happy about having to use a strong arm to make her attorney do the right thing.

Whit came up behind him with a pat on his back. “Thanks for taking care of this, Carson.”

“No problem. Hey.” He stopped Whit from leaving. He leaned over and picked up the papers. “Did you know about these?” He showed the pages to Whit, who studied them.

“No.”

“There’s contact and background information on Reginald’s housekeeper and the neighbor. He must have gotten this just before he died.”

“And planned to go to North Carolina to talk to them?”

“That would be my guess.”

Whit put the papers down and looked at Carson. “Are you going to check it out?”

“Police report said they talked to everyone, but maybe Dad had a reason for talking to them again.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Whit said. “Where’d you find these?”

“On his desk. Your assistant said she had it among Elizabeth’s things. It must have passed to her before anyone noticed what it was.”

“I’ll have to thank my assistant for being so good at her job.”

When Whit left, Carson turned back to the remaining attendees. He saw Georgia and Ruby stand from their chairs. Unlike her stepmother, Georgia was not all aglow over the outcome of the meeting.

“Mrs. Mason,” he said to Ruby.

“Please, call me Ruby.”

“Ruby.” Carson caught the roll of Georgia’s eyes. “As you know, none of us were aware that our father had another son. Your son.”

“Yes, that came as a shock to me. I was sure he’d have told you.”

“My father wasn’t the same man who married you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ruby looked sad over that, as though thinking of what could have been had Jackson not been kidnapped.

“We need to go, Mother.”

“It’s all right, Georgia.”

“Whit and I have decided to take over the investigation our father was conducting to find your son, Jackson. We... I was hoping I could meet with you some time to talk about what happened. His kidnapping.”

Ruby’s face fell. She was still, even after all this time, distraught and quite possibly full of guilt.

“No. I won’t stand for that.” Georgia turned to her stepmother. “Mother, it’s bad enough you had to take their money. You don’t have to put yourself through that again.”

“Georgia, hush. If Mr. Adair can find Jackson, I want to do everything I can to help.”

Georgia pinned him with a ferocious glare.

“Please, call me Carson.” Carson met Georgia’s spitfire energy and found himself enchanted all the more. “You, too, Georgia.”

“Come by the hotel anytime,” Ruby said.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I arrange for some rooms at our ranch. There’s plenty of space and we’ll have more time to talk.”

Georgia’s eyes rounded in horror as Ruby readily agreed. Then her mouth dropped open and she beamed accusation at Carson.

“It’s all set then. Carol has directions for you, and a car if you need it.”

“Why, thank you, Carson.” Ruby was all smiles.

Carson gave Georgia a slight bow, having more fun with this than he should. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you two lovely ladies tonight.” Saying farewell to Schmidt, he left the conference room with a chuckle he didn’t understand. Why was he so charmed? He didn’t have time for a girlfriend. Besides, Georgia had made it clear how much she despised the Adairs. Wouldn’t he be wasting his time trying to convince her she was wrong? She might not be wrong. He had, after all, just blackmailed Patsy’s attorney.

* * *

Georgia watched Carson leave the conference room and fought a mixture of awe and angst. He’d done what she’d least expected. She and Ruby didn’t have to fight for the inheritance. He’d made sure Ruby would have it, uncontested. Carson had become a hero for the day. But she could not allow him to suck her stepmother into a long, hopeless search for Jackson.

Schmidt was talking to Ruby about what to do next to get her inheritance. Georgia touched Ruby’s arm, interrupting them. “Wait here, Mother. I’ll be right back.” With Ruby’s perplexed look, Georgia hurried out of the room and went after Carson.

She armed herself against gushing gratitude and physical awareness—he was too handsome for her impression of him and his family. Inviting them to his family’s ranch was more in line with what she thought of them. It was more of a lure with the promise of pampered hospitality. He’d played Ruby, dealt her right into his hands. She wouldn’t know what hit her until it was too late. Why had he done it? So she’d cooperate and help him find Jackson? Everything this family did had to have a reward. Invite them to the big ranch. Wow them with generosity and extravagance.

Ruby had suffered a great deal after her son’s kidnapping. She’d talked about it enough for Georgia to know how deep her scars were. She’d loved Reginald and he’d turned his back on her. From the sounds of it, he’d turned his back on everyone. And raised his sons to be just like him.

“Mr. Adair!” She caught up to him at the elevator. In jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, he dressed casually for a man in his position at AdAir Corp. Short-cropped, light brown hair gave him a clean-cut, disciplined look, and those blue eyes dazzled, especially when he’d entered the conference room and seen her. He hadn’t just seen her, he’d touched her with his gaze, lingering on her breasts that were hidden behind the layers of her shirt and tailored jacket. Only she would know the tingle that had chased through her when he’d done that.

He held the door for her, surprise rendering him silent.

She stepped into the elevator. “You can’t involve Ruby in your new investigation of Jackson’s disappearance.”

He dropped his hand from the elevator door. “Involve her? Jackson is her son. She hasn’t seen him since he was an infant. And the investigation isn’t new. My father started it. Ruby is happy that we’re going to search for him. Why aren’t you?”

“She’s suffered such loss with the kidnapping. I’ve seen what it did to her. She’ll only be hurt more when you fail to find him.”

He cocked his head as the elevator doors slid closed. “You’re that certain I’ll fail?”

“No one else has succeeded in thirty-seven years. What makes you so special?”

He looked at her without reaction. Some men would be insulted, but not him. “My own mother is the prime suspect in my father’s murder.”

That gave Georgia pause. She looked up at the numbers as they rode the elevator to the parking garage level. He had justifiable motivation for trying to find the kidnapper. She couldn’t argue that.

“I will find Jackson. It’s only a question of when.”

“Do you think your father’s death is linked to Jackson’s kidnapping?” If Reginald had been investigating and discovered something, the kidnapper would have cause to kill.

“It’s possible. But not if my mother killed him.”

Ruby was an irrational woman. She could have any number of reasons for killing her husband.

She faced him, imploring with her eyes. “My stepmother is so vulnerable when it comes to losing Jackson. She lost a lot more than a son when he was taken.” Her entire life had been torn apart.

Carson’s eyes blinked in sympathy and understanding. He turned as she had, and now they faced each other in the elevator.

“It isn’t my intent to upset you or Ruby,” he said. “I want to help you both, not hurt you. Reginald was my father. Jackson is a half brother I never knew I had. So you see, helping you helps me and my family, too. My intentions are for the good of all of us.”

And hadn’t he proved that today? He defused her. He removed any argument she had.

When he noticed, his blue eyes took on that playful look again, just as she’d seen them do in the conference room. He’d enjoyed being her champion, taking that lawyer to another room and coming back with a prompt signature.

The elevator doors opened to the parking garage. Neither of them moved. She fell into the long moment, daring to toy with the temptation of believing he was different from his father.

The elevator doors began to slide closed. He reached out and stopped them.

She stepped out ahead of him, not ready to go back up to the conference room and get her stepmother.

“What did you say to that lawyer up there, anyway?”

“I reasoned with him,” Carson said.

“Reasoned?” He had to give her more than that.

“I helped him see that Patsy isn’t of sound mind right now.”

She had run before she could be arrested in connection to the attempted murder of Whit’s wife, and suspicion had turned to her over her husband’s death. Who wouldn’t agree that she was crazy? He must be some negotiator if he could maneuver a haughty lawyer like that.

“Well...I feel like I should thank you,” she said.

“My pleasure.” He gave her a slight bow of his head.

She warmed to him and the instinct to resist quickly followed. His chivalry didn’t change who he was—an Adair. A wealthy man. He represented everything she didn’t respect.

She had to stop herself from fantasizing about tracing her finger along that strong, square jaw with unruly stubble sprouting before noon. Maybe he’d foregone shaving this morning. He had a fun-loving side to him. That went against the rich-man, better-than-everyone-else persona she had assumed he had.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you help Ruby?”

“It was the right thing to do,” he said.

“That’s it?” He’d only wanted to do what was right? “What about your mother?”

He grunted. “First of all, I was never close to my mother. And she severed all ties when she went after my brother’s wife. I have no loyalty to her, but regardless of the kind of person she turned out to be, I’d have made sure Ruby got what my dad wanted her to have.”

His integrity confused her. “But...Ruby isn’t part of your family.”

“That doesn’t matter. She was married to my dad and they had a child together.” He studied her awhile. “What’s all of this really about, Georgia? Why are you so against my family?”

“I’m not against you.” She searched for the right words. “I...I’ve just seen what being part of your family did to my stepmother. The kidnapping. Reginald leaving her. The blame. It destroyed her.” She regained her purpose in chasing after him. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone make her suffer like that again.”

“Maybe I can understand your concern, but none of us—my brother, my sister or I—would harm Ruby. What happened in the past isn’t going to stop me from trying to find Jackson.”

“Fine. Look for him, just don’t involve Ruby.”

“I’ll protect her as much as I can.” He watched her awhile. “I know what it’s like to want to protect your family. I felt estranged from my parents, but I love my brother and sister. I would do anything for Whit and Landry.”

She smiled, believing he would. Carson didn’t strike her as the type to abandon those close to him. He was a doer.

But what would she do about him searching for Jackson and dragging Ruby through that hell all over again? She’d never find closure. She would have to relive that nightmare.

“What makes you think you’ll find Jackson any easier than your father?” she asked.

“I don’t know if I can. But I have to try. I’m sorry, but I do.”

“What if you don’t find him? What then? I’ll have to take Ruby back to Florida and pick up the pieces you shattered.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “You care about Ruby a great deal. I can see that. My father suffered, too. No one knew how much until it was too late. Try to see this from my point of view. I need to finish what my father started. He started his own investigation. I’m going to finish it.”

He was so sincere. And she did understand. She couldn’t fault him for trying to find Jackson. She just hoped Ruby could cope with another disappointment if he didn’t succeed.

Realizing he’d put both hands on her shoulders and that she was looking into his earnest eyes, Georgia averted her head and stepped back. He was so handsome, a perfect specimen of hotness in a gentleman package. Not her vision of what had ripped Ruby’s heart out. And not a man she’d expected to encounter.

“What’s this really about?” he asked again softly.

What did he mean? This was about Ruby suffering. Didn’t he see that?

“You tried to convince Ruby not to take the inheritance,” he said. “Why? Why would anyone refuse that kind of money?”

“It’s the money that destroyed her to begin with,” she said. “Jackson’s kidnapping only made everything worse.”

“Adair money? How?”

“Your family treated her like trash and supported Reginald divorcing her. They never liked her.”

“Who? My grandparents? Things have changed, Georgia. I don’t see them here. It’s just me, Whit and Landry. We had nothing to do with how anyone treated your stepmother.”

Well. He certainly had a way of putting her in her place. The worst part was he was right. She was tossing blame around wherever she could. If it had the name Adair attached to it, there was plenty to spread around.

She didn’t know what to say. She still didn’t trust him or his family, his money, their money. It was really that simple.

He leaned forward and pressed the elevator call button. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She watched him walk away, an inner struggle warring inside her.

The elevator doors opened but she didn’t get inside. Impulse made her walk after Carson.

“Carson?”

He stopped and faced her.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I am out of line. Ruby married a rich man and all it got her was a broken heart. His family never accepted her. And now the inheritance is pulling her back into that life. I’m afraid of what it will do to her. That’s why I can’t help wishing Reginald had left Ruby out of his will.”

A sexy grin curved up on his face. “I’m glad he didn’t.”

Georgia stared at him in slow comprehension. He wasn’t glad for Ruby, he was glad for himself. Because he’d met her.

The sound of a car approaching penetrated her awareness. They stood in the middle of the parking garage lane. Georgia stepped back to get out of the way when she spotted a man wearing sunglasses and a hat aim a gun out of the driver-side window.

Carson tackled her right as fear consumed her and the gun fired. She landed hard on the concrete behind the protection of a pickup truck. More shots rang out, pinging as the bullets hit the truck. Carson stayed on top of her while tires screeched and the sound of the car grew fainter.

Georgia sat up when Carson stood to peer over the hood of the truck. Georgia could no longer hear the car.

“Who was that?” she asked, breathy with wild adrenaline.

“I don’t know.” He reached for her hands to help her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

Stepping back from him, she surveyed her body, wiping her hands down her now-dirty skirt suit. She had a minor scrape on her leg and her hands were a little sore, but other than a little shaken up, she was okay. “No bullet holes, so I couldn’t be better.”

Her attempt at humor fell flat on him. His brow was dark and low in grave contemplation. He must have some ideas about who had just shot at them. Wait. Why would anyone shoot at her? The inheritance? It didn’t seem likely. And as she recalled the way the man had aimed the gun, it hadn’t been directed at her. It had been directed at Carson.

“Why would anyone want to shoot you?” she asked.

His eyes met hers but he’d closed up. “Go back inside, Georgia. I’ll take care of this.”

Take care of it how? He ushered her to the elevator.

“But—”

He gave her a gentle push when the doors opened. She stepped inside and faced him.

“The police may want to question you.”

“I can wait for them to get here.”

“Go back inside. I want you out of danger. What if the car returns?”

“What about you?” He was in more danger than her.

“I was a marine. I can take care of myself.” Instead of sounding conceited, he spoke out of honesty and in a teasing tone. Sexy. Manly. A molten shiver ran through her. Then she checked herself. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall head over heels...for an Adair.

Chapter 2

After the detective questioned them and AdAir Security gave him the recording of what had happened in the parking garage, he left to begin an investigation. Now Carson turned to Whit, who stood behind his desk, too charged up to sit down. He leaned against the wall with his feet crossed and arms folded, and Georgia sat on a sofa next to Ruby. The detective had asked them about Reginald’s murder and, after cautioning them over carrying on their own investigation, seemed to think the shooting might be related to their meddling.

“Why would Dad’s killer shoot at you and not me?” Whit asked. “We’re both looking into his murder and Jackson’s kidnapping.”

“Maybe he hasn’t tried to kill you yet,” Georgia said.

“I don’t think it was Dad’s killer who shot at me.”

Whit’s brow lifted. “Oh? You didn’t mention that to the detective.”

No, but his thoughts were filled with other possibilities. Disturbing possibilities. “We don’t have anything on the murder. No leads. Our best suspect is our mother and she’s not in the country. Why go to the extreme of killing us when it appears our mother is the one who murdered Dad?”

“Who do you think it could be?” Georgia asked.

Carson looked at her but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how much he should say.

“What motive would Mom have?” Whit asked. “That’s always bothered me. Why would she kill Dad?”

“Who knows?” Carson said. “She tried to kill Elizabeth. Dad was so distant with her, she could have done it as a result of his neglect. Their relationship wasn’t good.”

“No, it wasn’t. Not true love, that’s for sure. But is that enough to make her kill him?”

Maybe Patsy had taken all she could and finally snapped, beginning with the murder attempt on Elizabeth. But if the kidnapper had killed Reginald for getting too close, then it seemed unlikely that Patsy could have been that person. He supposed the kidnapper could have killed Reginald and was now going after Carson and Whit, but Carson didn’t think that was what happened in the parking garage.

The way the shooter had carried out the shooting, covertly moving in and making a clean getaway, was tactical and planned. Would Jackson’s kidnapper be so professional? Possibly, but Carson didn’t think so.

“What are you thinking?” Whit asked, moving around his desk. He must see Carson’s doubt and concern. He stopped before him.

“What’s wrong?” Georgia asked.

He looked over at her, again unsure of how much he should say.

“Do you have any idea who might have shot at you?” Whit asked.

Slowly, Carson nodded.

“Who?” Georgia asked. Beside her, Ruby followed the thread of conversation by looking from one to another.

“My last mission didn’t go as planned,” Carson said.

“You were shot.”

Yes, he’d been shot, but a lot had happened before that. He glanced at Ruby and Georgia again. “It was a classified mission.”

“Were you in the military?” Ruby asked, innocent of what Carson might be implying—that someone from the failed mission had come shooting at him.

“Yes. I was part of a four-man team in MARSOC, which stands for the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Our missions were assigned by US Special Operations Command.” He looked pointedly at Whit, who understood the brotherly code. His team had done top-secret reconnaissance missions in some of the most dangerous places in the world. In this case, he’d gone to Myanmar, an arms-embargoed country and a conduit for illicit trade. If Carson had made an enemy there, the shooting in the parking garage could only be the beginning. But it was probably best not to discuss that in front of Ruby and Georgia. He could only trust Whit right now. And for the women’s safety, he’d keep them out of it.

He looked over at Georgia, who sat wide-eyed in fascination he doubted she welcomed. She had known he was in the Marines but not that he’d done special forces. Did that put a chink in her anti-Adair armor?

Seeing Ruby notice with a tiny smile, Carson wondered if she shared Georgia’s animosity or if her disgruntlement centered only on Reginald. Interesting, that Ruby had been the one who’d been hurt by an Adair and it was Georgia who carried the torch. The two were close, but Georgia was Ruby’s champion. Ruby had a frailty about her, whereas Georgia was a rock.

“Georgia is a librarian,” Ruby said.

“Mother,” Georgia said, a warning for her to stop playing matchmaker.

A lover of books. Carson wasn’t sure if the profession fit her fiery disposition.

“How do you propose we handle this?” Whit asked.

“We wait for the detective to study the evidence. See what he comes up with from the video surveillance. Then I’ll take it from there.” If he had to involve his colonel, he would.

There was a lot to consider here, namely, the safety of his family and Ruby and Georgia.

“What was your rank in the Marines, Carson?”

The way Ruby asked made Carson wonder if she was asking for Georgia, who, although intrigued, would not give in and ask herself.

“Lieutenant.” He saw how Georgia tried to hide her awe while her stepmother asked all the questions.

“You didn’t want to leave?”

He shook his head. “I’d have retired a marine.”

“Why did you have to leave?” Ruby asked. She may have noticed his limp but hadn’t made the connection.

“I can’t be a marine with this.” He gripped his lame leg. Resentment and regret rose up as it always did when he was reminded of all he’d lost. He struggled with that reaction, one he always had when people asked him about it.

“Oh,” Ruby breathed her realization. “That’s where you were shot?”

He really didn’t feel like talking about this anymore. He saw how Georgia hadn’t missed a thing, and pushed off the wall.

“There’s a limo waiting in front of the building.” He went to the office door. There, he looked back at Whit. “We’ll see you later.”

Ruby left the office, and Georgia’s dark green eyes met his as she passed. Out in the hall, she let Ruby go ahead of them.

“What did you mean we?” she asked.

“Whit and his wife are having a barn dance tonight. They finished their new house and are having something of a house warming. Since you and Ruby are staying at the ranch, you may as well join me.”

As Georgia’s mouth parted to reject the invitation—Carson was sure that’s what she would have done since she’d rejected the invite to Whit and Elizabeth’s party that had ended up being their wedding—Ruby stopped and faced them with a cheery smile. “Oh, how delightful. We’d love to.”

Georgia didn’t look excited at all about the prospect of going to a party. Maybe it had more to do with a party that an Adair put on. It would do her some good to see for herself that his family wasn’t a bunch of mean people with money.

“Dress casually,” he said to her, loving how easy it was to rile her.

* * *

Carson found Georgia and Ruby in the living room, sitting on the big off-white leather sectional. They’d both changed into jeans, Ruby much more conservative. Georgia wore a teal-green scarf over a white boatneck T-shirt and distressed jeans that were nearly worn through in places. She had teal accessories, belt, shoes and jewelry. She was so put together. Completely different than the suited woman he’d seen at AdAir. The librarian had sparks. A librarian who hated money. Or was it only his money? He wondered if he should stifle the urge to test her on that.

“I have a little surprise,” he said. “Follow me, ladies.”

Ruby stood with an excited smile and came toward him. Georgia was much slower, woe to be her, subjected to an evening with awful Adairs.

Leading them to the front door, he opened it to a waiting horse-drawn carriage, complete with a driver.

He helped Ruby up and then offered Georgia his hand next. She didn’t take it. Amused, he sat beside her and not Ruby. Ruby looked on in approval, and Georgia scooted over to put space between them. He almost chuckled.

But business had to come first. The carriage was a tool, part of his strategy to relax Ruby enough to broach the subject of Jackson.

He waited for the carriage to start moving.

Ruby sat prim and proper, rail-thin, salon-finished nails, light brown hair dyed to hide her gray. Even her physical appearance supported his expanding theory that Georgia had taken on too much responsibility where Ruby was concerned. It was sad that Ruby had lost her son so long ago, but Georgia had her own life to live.

“I don’t know how you could have ever dreamed of leaving all of this,” Ruby commented, in a fairyland all her own as she took in the landscape.

“I could never have stayed.” This was actually a good way to lead into asking her about Jackson. “It’s what my father wanted.”

“Did Reginald expect you to stay?”

“He expected me to go to college for some kind of business degree and, yes, follow him and Whit. My father and I were never close. He had little interest in being a father. He spent most of his time working.” He glanced over at Georgia, who listened like a mama bear, ready to attack if Carson said anything harmful to Ruby. He was about to take the risk of being clawed. He turned back to Ruby. “If I’d have known his first son was kidnapped and much of his aloofness came from that, things might have been different. He never talked about his feelings, but he must have been heartbroken over losing Jackson.”

“He was. Reginald was a changed man after Jackson went missing. When Jackson was born, I like to think we fell even more madly in love. Our love for Jackson made us close. Until Jackson went missing.” She gazed off into the darkness, unaware that Carson had begun the questioning he’d been itching to do since they’d arrived in California. But Georgia was. Her eyes had narrowed in warning.

Carson ignored her. “It wasn’t your fault, Ruby. Someone took your baby. You didn’t give him away.”

Some of the sorrow left her as she looked at him again. “That’s very kind of you to say, Carson, but no one back then believed I was a competent mother. I left him outside to go answer the phone.”

Reginald and his family had blamed her. “In your own backyard. He should have been safe. You should have been able to leave him out there without worry.”

“It was the middle of the day,” Ruby said, encouraged. “I was in the backyard with him, doing some gardening. He was in his carrier. The phone rang and I went in to answer it. I was only gone one or two minutes. When I came back outside, he was gone.”

“Who knew you had a baby?”

“Everyone. Family. Friends. The police questioned all of them. I’ve always thought my neighbor at the time was holding something back, but the police didn’t find any reason not to believe her. That’s something that has always bothered me.”

“Why did you think she was holding something back?” Carson asked.

“She had a lot going on in her life at the time. She just seemed... I don’t know...distracted. The police didn’t talk to her long. I guess I’ve always felt she might have seen something and didn’t tell police because she didn’t want to be involved. It was an impression I had, nothing more.”

Something she’d noticed in the way her neighbor spoke to her? It may be important.

“Did you ever tell Reginald any of this?”

She turned from her lost gaze out across the dark landscape. “He called me about a week before he was killed and asked me about her. He remembered that I’d mentioned what I’d thought of our neighbor and he wanted to confirm it.”

Reginald had called Ruby? She must not have minded. She must be over him. Of course she would be. Their marriage had been so long ago. And Ruby had been happy and in love with Georgia’s father.

“He was going to look into the neighbor,” Carson said aloud.

“Yes, but I don’t think he had the chance.”

“I don’t, either, which is why I plan to talk to her.” Carson stopped questioning her. He had enough for now.

“Are you going to go to North Carolina?” Ruby asked.

Beside him, he sensed Georgia’s tension over the desperate hope coming from Ruby.

“I’ll need to in order to talk to some people.”

“Georgia and I could go with you.”

Ruby seemed to want to help, but it was clear that Georgia had other ideas.

“Why don’t we just let Carson handle this?” Georgia said. “You’ve already been through enough. Leave it up to him.”

“It’s much easier if we’re there. We can help him.”

Carson doubted she’d be of much help, but he also wasn’t so sure that was her main reason. More likely, she couldn’t bear to wait to hear what kind of progress he was making. Waiting here would be harder than being there. But if he made no progress, wouldn’t that be worse for her?

“Let’s decide that later,” Georgia said as the carriage came to a stop in front of the barn.

He watched her take in the grandeur of Whit and Elizabeth’s new house with reluctant admiration and decided right then to enjoy proving her wrong about the rich—the Adairs.

* * *

Georgia hopped down from the carriage, still marveling over Whit and Elizabeth’s big house. It was on the ranch property and it was as spectacular as the Spanish hacienda from where they’d just come. This afternoon she’d gazed out over rolling hills of alfalfa fields, horse pastures and citrus groves and several outbuildings. The guesthouse was three times the size of hers in Florida. She didn’t want to be impressed or like it so much, but she was and she did.

Seeing Carson watching her, she marched toward the barn. She didn’t want to be impressed by him, either, but the deft way he’d handled Ruby had softened a part of her heart. He may not be finished talking to her about the kidnapping, but he had enough to go on for now and backed off. She appreciated that. But he didn’t have to know it.

Reaching the open barn doors, where light poured out onto a corral, she stopped. People ate at tables and danced in the middle to a live country music band. There were Adairs everywhere. And nice or not, Carson was part of this family, the one who had treated Ruby so horribly and attracted people like them. Reginald had loved Ruby, but it was his family that had destroyed them. It hadn’t just been losing Jackson.

Georgia didn’t shun all rich people. Not all rich people were snobs or magnets to draw others like them into their circle. People could make a comfortable, secure living without amassing enormous wealth. There was a difference between struggling to get by and making a comfortable living. People didn’t need hundreds of millions or even billions to survive. Yes, the rich created jobs and kept the economy going. But without those who kept the wheels turning, the ones struggling to get by or making a comfortable living, they’d have nothing. People like Reginald and his parents were just plain greedy. And even if one or two in a family managed to remain humble, there was bound to be someone or several who weren’t. As far as Georgia was concerned, getting involved with a rich man wasn’t worth the risk of happiness.

Carson and Ruby stood on each side of her. Everyone looked normal, but Georgia braced herself for the backlash. Ruby was the first to step forward and introduce herself to a young couple. The happy light had returned and she was ready to mingle. Affection and love swelled up in Georgia. She didn’t have any trouble melting right into the crowd. It was as though she’d stepped into another world and wasn’t an average Lake Mary, Florida, resident anymore. Free for the night. Maybe she was remembering what it had been like to be married to Reginald, to be well off. She had loved Georgia’s father, but he hadn’t made millions.

Georgia followed Ruby and was disappointed when Carson joined her. The young couple wandered off and a man about the same age as Ruby appeared before the three of them.

“Carson.” He stuck out his hand. “I heard you were back. So sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Hayden. Good to see you.”

“Who are these lovely ladies you have with you?” He spoke to Ruby, who all but gushed over the attention.

“I’m Ruby Mason. How very nice to meet a charming devil like you.”

Georgia gaped at her stepmother. She’d never seen her act this way before. Maybe she had when she’d met her dad, but Georgia had been so young, she didn’t remember. A traitorous thought came to her: socializing with the rich made her this way.

Hayden spent extra time greeting Ruby, lifting her hand to give it a kiss before saying, “A pleasure.”

Ruby blushed a little, and Georgia was shocked over the transformation in her. Clearly, Ruby loved the attention. Back in Florida, nothing made her shine like that. Most of the time she was sad and lonely.

“Hayden runs a ranch bordering ours,” Carson said.

“Oh,” Ruby said, sounding awed.

Georgia gaped at her again. What was wrong with her?

“What brings you to the Adairs’?”

“Ruby was married to Reginald. She’s Jackson’s mother,” Carson said.

Hayden sobered. “Oh. Tragic. We were all so shocked to find out that Reginald had another son.” He turned to Carson. “Your family certainly has had its share of bad news of late.”

“Yes, but we’ll overcome. An Adair doesn’t give up easily. Whit and I will find Jackson. And we’ll find my father’s killer.”

Hayden turned to Ruby. “Then you’ll be in town awhile?”

“I...” She looked at Georgia and Carson. “We may be taking a trip to North Carolina. That’s where I lived when my son was taken.”

“Too bad. I was going to offer to show you around.”

Wasn’t that a little sudden? Hayden sounded as though he were quietly trying to get her to change her mind and not go to North Carolina so she could stay here and get to know him.

“Oh,” Ruby breathed, clearly delighted he’d made the suggestion. “I would be thrilled to have you show me around. Maybe some other time?”

She’d spend a day with a man she had just met? Georgia was taken aback. Was it his money? Who was this stepmother and what had she done with Ruby? Carson knew the man, so maybe that changed things. That was when an idea struck her.

Distancing Ruby from the search would minimize the amount of pain she suffered along the way. The less involved she was, the easier it would be on her, particularly if they never found Jackson.

“You did say you wanted to see the old lighthouse,” Georgia said.

“Yes.” Ruby looked disappointed.

“And the museums...?”

Ruby stared at Hayden forlornly. “Yes.”

“When are you leaving?” Hayden asked. “Perhaps we can take a day or two.”

“Why don’t you stay here, Ruby? Carson and I can go to North Carolina.” Beside her, Carson turned a sharp look her way. “I’ll call you every day with updates.” If there were any. “You don’t have to be there with us.”

“Oh...I...” Ruby’s happy light began to shine again. That and the shameless flirt Georgia had never met before.

“There’s Beachfront Village I could show you, as well,” Hayden said. “There’s a fabulous place to have lunch there.”

“If you like, you can join up with us later,” Georgia said. Or not. Hopefully, this mutual interest Ruby had with Hayden would keep her here and away from Jackson’s kidnapping investigation.

“Well...if you’re sure.” She smiled coyly at Hayden.

“I’m sure.” She met Carson’s wry look. He knew what she’d just done. At least he didn’t fight her on it. Now all they’d have to worry about was being alone together.

* * *

Carson brought Georgia a glass of wine and put his beer down before sitting beside her at the picnic table they had all to themselves. They had made their way around the barn, and she had met more people than she could possibly remember.

“What do you think so far?” he asked after sipping his beer.

What did he mean? “About what?”

“All these rich people.”

Oh, he was teasing her. “I think they’re rich.” She sent him a mock smile.

With a grin, he left it at that, making her wonder why. Was he playing games with her? Or was he just pushing her because he was offended by what she thought of him? Carson, offended? No. He was way too confident for that. He seemed amused. Charmed, even. Why would her opinion of him and his family charm him? What was her opinion of him? When she’d first arrived, she was full of animosity. She’d expected Patsy’s kids to carry through with what she’d started and keep her stepmother from the inheritance that was rightfully hers. But Carson had surprised her. Some in his family may be coldhearted snobs but he was not. Was just being a part of the family that had so hurt Ruby enough to keep her reticent? She didn’t know him, after all. And didn’t everyone put on their best face when they first met someone? Maybe the evil side would emerge later. If she gave him that much of a chance.

Dismayed that her thoughts had even gone down that path, she looked toward the dance floor and spotted her stepmother doing a two-step with Hayden. They were really hitting it off, ogling each other, oblivious to anyone else. They hadn’t run out of things to talk about, either. It worried her that her stepmother had taken to the rancher so quickly. Would she end up repeating old mistakes? She hadn’t taken any money from Reginald when they’d divorced. It had been a matter of principle. And guilt. Poor Ruby. But she didn’t look like a woman to feel sorry for right now.

“She fits right in,” Carson said.

Realizing he’d followed her gaze and that he was likely challenging her again, she said, “They just met. He could turn out to be no different than Reginald.” Just like what she’d been thinking about him.

“Hayden is a good man. He lost his wife five years ago. She was his high school sweetheart and he made his millions the hard way...on his own. Not only is she safe with him, he would take care of her like a gentleman.”

Would Carson do the same with a woman? And what did he mean by take care of her? That he kept his women?

She wasn’t prejudiced against all rich people. He had to know that, so she took the risk of offending him again and said in a light tone, “Well, then it’s probably a good thing he isn’t an Adair.”

He wasn’t. He just grinned, enjoying what he perceived as her misconception. Maybe she did have a misconception, but the agony Ruby had suffered when she had been a part of this family was too deeply ingrained in her. She couldn’t just turn off years of conditioning. And letting down her guard with him would be a recipe for unhappiness, as far as she could see.

“How much did this cost?” He fingered her scarf.

She looked down at his masculine hand lifting the soft, silky green material and then letting it fall back against her chest. She met the playfulness in his eyes.

“I don’t remember.” She did. It had been expensive. She saved her money so that she could go on a few hundred-dollar shopping sprees every so often. She could spend an entire day putting outfits together, and then loved organizing them in her closet and wearing them until she saved enough for her next spree.

“The purse?”

She couldn’t say she didn’t remember that one. It was a famous American brand. “Three hundred or thereabouts.”

He whistled. “You like expensive things.”

“I like clothes.” Lots and lots of clothes. Plus, accessories. The accessories were the best part about putting outfits together. But she’d never tell him that.

“That could cost a good amount of money if you do it often enough,” he said, sipping his beer without removing his gaze from her.

She did. Something else she wasn’t going to tell him. But then, she didn’t have to. He’d figured that out on his own. And, oh, he was having fun. She discovered that tickled her. He had an infectious sense of humor.

She couldn’t stop a brief laugh. “Okay, you got me.”

His deep chuckle did more than tickle her.

“There you are.”

Carson’s brother interrupted what would have ended up being a long, hot stare.

“Georgia,” Whit said in greeting.

“Mr. Adair.” She sat back, realizing she’d leaned toward Carson as though his charm had enticed her to.

“Call me Whit. We are in a barn, after all.”

She smiled and then Whit turned to Carson.

“I’ve finally managed to get away from Elizabeth,” he said. “And we don’t have mediation lawyers and police around anymore.” He looked over the crowd in the barn. “Just a bunch of neighbors and friends.”

What was he talking about?

“Why do you need to get away from Elizabeth?” Carson asked.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I want it to be a surprise for her.” Something caught his eye to stop him.

Georgia followed his look along with Carson. Landry had arrived. She laughed exuberantly with a group of men who were clearly taken by her. She looked like Scarlet O’Hara in that infamous scene, only—Georgia looked closer—maybe a little tipsy.

“She’s later than she usually is,” Carson said.

“Yeah. Have you noticed how different she’s been?” Whit asked. “She’s taken Dad really hard, but I expected her to be moving on by now.”

“Mom’s behavior shocked her, I think,” Carson said.

“Well, maybe it’s time to shock her out of her funk. Did you know she had to cancel a charity event last week?”

Carson turned a sharp look to him. “No.”

“Yeah. Stayed out late the night before. Come to find out she hadn’t finished making arrangements. I doubt the sponsor will use her again.”

Carson stared at his sister awhile. “It’s so unlike her. She’s usually so punctual and together.”

“Yeah. Bad girl isn’t a term I’d stick her with but...”

Both brothers watched Landry swing an arm around one of the handsome men in her circle. She spilled a little of her drink and tipped her head back to laugh at her clumsiness.

“I’ll talk to her,” Carson said.

“So will I. Between the two of us, maybe we can talk some sense into her.”

“She needs to accept what happened.”

“Something I could say to you, too, brother.”

Carson turned another sharp look toward his brother. “Me?” Carson wasn’t a partier and he’d grabbed his father’s death by the horns. He was having no trouble coping. Except...

Georgia understood what Whit meant. Carson hadn’t accepted his injury and its impact on his future.

“It’s why I need to talk to you. It’s about AdAir Corp. I’ve been hesitant up until now to broach the subject. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

Perplexed, Carson’s brow rose. “This sounds serious. Feel about what, Whit?”

“I should have pulled you into my office for this discussion, but there never seemed to be a good time for that.”

Not with their father’s murder, Jackson’s kidnapping and someone shooting at Carson mucking things up.

“Okay. You’ve got my attention. This is about the business.”

Whit pulled out a chair and sat, flattening his hands on the table. He was still hesitant. Whatever he needed to say, he had major reservations.

“Whit? It’s me. Carson. Just tell me.”

“You might not like it. And it’s something I really need from you.”

“Okay. What is it? I’m sure we can work it out.”

Georgia began to feel like an intruder. “Maybe I should go talk to Ruby.”

She started to stand, when both men said, “No,” at the same time.

“You can stay,” Carson said.

She leaned back against the chair, and Carson turned to Whit again, who hesitated yet again.

“Carson, I know how you felt about Dad. His business. But with Elizabeth pregnant, I don’t want to spend so much time at the office. Now that you’re back and out of the Marines, maybe you’d consider taking over for me?”

Georgia felt the internal shock wave that rendered Carson still and speechless. He did not react well to that request. He hadn’t expected it, either. Whatever he’d thought they could figure out hadn’t included this.

“Nothing you need to decide now. I wasn’t planning on leaving soon. But give it some thought, okay?”

“What will you do?”

“I’d like to stay close to home. Work the ranch, maybe.”

How sweet. He wanted to stay close to his wife and raise a family. Beside her, Carson’s profile told a different story, as if he felt squeezed into a corner. Not just cornered. Pressed there. Crushed.

“Maybe you should hire someone,” Carson said.

Whit’s head angled and his mouth frowned in disappointment. “I didn’t expect you to react positively to this, not right away. But I don’t want to hire from the outside.”

“I’m not qualified.”

“Yes, you are. You know the business. Whether you like it or not, you know it. And I’d train you, help you with the transition.”

“Whit, I don’t think—”

“You need to put the Marines behind you, Carson. What happened.”

Whit meant when Carson had been shot. There was so much emotion radiating off him that Georgia became certain whatever conundrum he had over leaving the Marines affected him greatly. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d been forced because he’d been shot. And now the idea of taking over for Whit, taking his father’s place, did not go over well with him. He recoiled against it.

“All I ask is that you consider it,” Whit said.

Carson stood. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll think about it. What else am I going to do with my life than run Dad’s company?” Bitterness dripped from his tone.

He looked down at Georgia. “I’m heading back to the house. You coming or waiting for your mom?”

He sounded curt and annoyed. No, troubled.

“Oh...” Georgia was so stunned by his reaction that she fumbled for a response. “I’ll wait.”

“Carson, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, but I had to talk to you about it. I don’t want the company controlled by an outsider. It’s a family business.”

“I said I’d think about it, Whit.” With that, he stalked off.

Georgia watched him go, more than a little curious over what had made him so surly. When he disappeared outside the barn, she turned to Whit.

“Well, that went worse than I thought it would,” he said.

She looked toward the barn doors. Carson was home, but he didn’t want to be here. He was here not by choice. He was a man who needed to be in charge of his own direction. Take that away and what was left? A man going through a life change. Resisting it every step of the way.

“He hates the idea of following our father,” Whit said, bringing her gaze back to him. “But he has nowhere else to go.”

“He could do worse than running a successful company.”

Whit grunted his doubt. “Tell him that.”

Maybe she would. Because she was sure something more than being shot had put all that emotion in him. More than rebelling against his father. And more than his father’s murder. What dismayed her was that something she couldn’t control made her want to find out.

Chapter 3

Today, Georgia wore a long-sleeved, soft orange T-shirt with a flowing black tank top over that. Carson walked beside her on their way to the plane. Her top had subtle floral embroidery and all her accessories matched the soft orange. Flower earrings, bracelet, purse, belt. Black skinny jeans that had him checking out her butt too often.

“How many suitcases did you bring?” he asked.

“Huh?” She stopped at their gate. People glided by on the moving walkway. A woman passed with a pet carrier.

He indicated her purse. “You seem to have a purse for every outfit.”

“I have a suitcase for those and shoes. And one more for the rest.”

“For someone who doesn’t like money, you sure have a knack for fashion.”

She cocked her head. “Shopping is a fun stress reliever for me. And I like putting outfits together. It doesn’t have anything to do with money.”

He gave her a skeptical look and then guided her to the seats in front of their gate. She must spend a wad each time she went out to buy a new outfit. He couldn’t wait to see what she wore next—and he disagreed. A woman could shop a lot more with money. She had to have money to put those outfits together. Was she being defiant when she said it had nothing to do with money? Suppressing an inner craving to spend, spend, spend? He could have some fun with that, shower her with luxuries and see if she liked it. Starting with right now, as soon as they boarded.

Georgia slipped her purse off her shoulder and placed it on the seat next to her. He’d checked his carry-on since she’d had two bags. They were traveling light as a result. He sat beside her, trying not to overtly notice her thigh in the snug jeans as she crossed one sexy leg over the other.

“Why do you have to meet with your ex-commander?”

So far she hadn’t tried to pry information out of him. He’d told her they’d stop in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, first, before heading to Raleigh, and that was all. Now he realized she’d strategically waited until she had him alone. Maybe now she could get him to talk.

“He’s got some things he wants to discuss in person about my last mission and since the mission was classified, we have to meet in a SCIF. Sergeant Major Mark Copeland of the 2nd Marine Special Operations Battalion was a hands-on kind of man and had been upset over the failed mission.”

“What’s a skiff?”

“Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, a secure office or meeting facility where classified information can be processed or discussed.”

As she tipped her head to the side and smiled her intrigue, her dark red hair slipped down from her shoulder, shiny and thick. “You have a clearance?”

Was he ruining her disparaging opinion of him? “Top secret.”

“Why do you think that man who shot at you is connected to your mission?”

He couldn’t discuss most of it. “If you had a clearance, I could bring you to my meeting and tell you.”

“Does Whit have a clearance?”

He’d discussed everything with Whit. “Yes.” AdAir Corp had a SCIF on-site. Carson could have talked to his commander from there, but his commander wanted him to meet in person because he had some intel to share. That meant they’d continued their surveillance after Carson had come home. He was encouraged by that. He’d had a hard time leaving after the mission in Myanmar failed.

“Why didn’t your mission go as planned?” she asked.

“We were discovered,” he said. “To this day, we don’t know how.” That was pretty much all he could say.

“You were attacked?”

“Yes.” His mind started wandering where he didn’t want it. Seeing Georgia catching the change in him, he faced forward and hoped she’d drop the subject.

“What happened?”

“It’s classified.”

She eyed him awhile, her smart librarian brain adding things up. “Not all of it’s classified.”

No, but he still wasn’t going to talk about it.

“Did your father know you were shot?”

He wondered why she would ask such a question. “Yes. He was killed after that.” He recalled the last conversation he’d had with him. He had still been in the hospital and his father had called, insisting on speaking with him.

You get shot and I have to get a call from your commander? Reginald had roared. Were you going to tell me?

I was shot, Carson had replied, thinking to himself, Why did he even care?

His father’s apparent offense was more about control. He’d been angry that Carson wouldn’t have called to let him know that he’d been shot.

I told you joining the Marines was a mistake. When are they sending you home?

I’m not coming home.

I’ve had enough of your attitude, Carson. You’re coming home where you belong.

I don’t belong anywhere near you.

At that time he hadn’t known he’d be honorably discharged from the Marines. The next day, the doctors had informed him he’d be lucky to walk again. Hearing that had been a tough blow. He’d denied it flat out at first. Not walk? Screw that! He’d walk again, damn it. It had been a long recovery. Once he was released from the hospital, he’d begun a rigorous physical therapy regimen. And he had walked again. But the injury was too severe to pass the physical requirements for the MARSOC. Finally, he’d had to accept his fate. He would never be a part of a Marine Special Forces team again.

It was then that he’d gotten the call from Whit.

“Carson. I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but Dad is dead...”

The last words he’d ever spoken to his father were the first that had entered his mind right then. As Whit explained the murder, all he could think was, I don’t belong anywhere near you.

The guilt had only stung sharper when the reading of the will had revealed Reginald’s secret agony that had turned him into a heartless businessman.

“Why don’t you want to take over his company?” Georgia asked.

He looked at her and realized she’d been watching him while he reminisced. “I’m not an executive.”

With the subtle but dubious lift of her eyebrows, she said, “But you said you can’t be a marine anymore.”

She was fishing for something. “I’m still not an executive.”

“Have you ever worked at your father’s company before?”

“Oh, yeah. He forced Whit and I to work there as soon as we turned sixteen. When I was eighteen I didn’t have to do what he told me anymore.” Looking back, he was frankly amazed his dad hadn’t cut him out of his will. And then again, not. Now that he knew about Jackson, he could understand how his father would choose not to turn away from his kids, no matter how distant he’d been. Somewhere inside him had been a father who’d loved all of his children.

“And you’ve been helping Whit, haven’t you?”

“Occasionally.” He’d stepped in and helped after Reginald was murdered. He knew the business. He’d grown up around it. But being an executive...just like his father... It just ate at him. Maybe it was residual from when he was younger. Rebelling had become habitual. Or maybe he still hadn’t forgiven his father for not being a father. It wasn’t his or Whit’s or Landry’s fault that Jackson had been taken from him. Hadn’t he realized that his new children needed love, too?

Carson felt weak for thinking that way. So his dad hadn’t shown them love. Was he going to cry about it?

“You seem really upset over it,” Georgia said.

She was going to have to stop being so intuitive.

“Do you regret not being close to your father before he died?”

“My father wasn’t close with anyone.”

“And that’s what upsets you.”

This was getting too personal. “It upsets me that he didn’t tell us about Jackson.”

“You wish you knew your father better?”

Yes. And he wished he would have been kinder on the phone the last time he’d spoken with him.

“I didn’t know my mother,” Georgia said. “I can see how you’d be upset. It seems like your relationship with your father was like not having one at all.”

“You had Ruby.”

She smiled, a radiant, toothy smile that lightened his mood in an instant. “Yes. I do have Ruby.”

Carson heard the attendant announce that it was time for first-class passengers to board.

“That’s us,” he said, standing.

She looked up at him, smile fading, completely caught unaware. She hadn’t guessed they’d fly first-class. She hadn’t thought of it until now. She was accustomed to flying coach and not boarding first. He grinned, and she frowned at him as she stood up, more of a smirk.

They were the first to board.

* * *

Georgia had never flown first-class and she was pretty sure Carson had done this on purpose. Of course he’d get first-class tickets, but he was enjoying this far too much. It was a nice introduction to the benefits of having money, which she suspected was his intent. Show her that having money wasn’t bad.

She sat on the spacious, comfortable seat next to the window, watching him bring down the tables in front of them and begin to spread out the papers he’d gathered on the people they’d question once in Raleigh, North Carolina.

“Have you ever flown coach?” she asked.

“No, but I flew in military planes. Is that common enough for you?”

He hadn’t asked in a mean way. His tone was teasing. “Doesn’t your family have a private jet?”

He stopped sifting through the papers. “Yes, but I thought you’d be more comfortable flying commercial.”

“This is first-class.”

“You’re not comfortable?” He surveyed her seated form with animated flare.

She had to suppress a smile. How could she be enjoying this? He was taunting her.

“I’m comfortable.”

“You look comfortable.” He surveyed her again, only this time some heat made its way into the play.

Ever since her last relationship, she hadn’t been eager to seek out a new man. Actually, she hadn’t even thought about finding anyone. It hadn’t ended well and she wasn’t anxious to start over. Besides, Ruby needed her right now. She paused. Why was she thinking in terms of a relationship with Carson? She had just met him. Were these sparks she felt leading to something? She wouldn’t allow it. He was the son of the man who’d broken her stepmother’s heart. Reginald and his rich family hadn’t accepted Ruby. So why would they accept her? Why would Carson? He was just having fun teasing her.

“Uh...” She looked down at the table in front of him. “Maybe we should...” She indicated the papers there. She couldn’t possibly be interested in Carson. He was putting on a good face now, but who was he, really? Reginald’s son.

“Right.” He picked up the first report. “Penelope Johnson was Ruby’s neighbor. She’s moved since then. At the time of Jackson’s kidnapping, she was going through a divorce. She took her son with her. Problem is she lost custody of him in the divorce.”

“She took him?” She took the page he held from him. “Where did you get these?”

“From Whit’s assistant. They were among Dad’s things, but we don’t think he’s checked into them yet.”

“Wouldn’t the police already have talked to them?”

“I’m sure they did.”

She searched the document but didn’t see anything significant.

“Penelope had just moved in a week before Jackson was taken. Police caught her and she was arrested. The charges were later dropped. She still lives in Raleigh.”

“Why did she lose custody?” She handed the paper back to him.

“Drug addict. She did go to rehab, though. Two years after she lost her son.”

Penelope didn’t seem like a very reliable witness. If she was wigged out on drugs, what would she remember? And she’d essentially kidnapped her son. Would she have kidnapped Jackson? It didn’t seem likely, but probably best not to discount the possibility.

“Who else is there?” she asked.

Carson handed her another report.

She appreciated that he included her, but she needed time to read through these.

“Evita Marrero was the housekeeper,” he explained for her. “She quit after the kiddnapping and according to my father’s report, not on friendly terms.”

Georgia sat back against the seat. “Ruby told me about that. Reginald was hard on her. She hates him. She won’t feel like helping us.”

“We’ll see.”

“Why did Reginald want to talk to them? I can see the neighbor, because of the trouble she was in, but the housekeeper? Do you think he had an affair with her that ended badlly?”

“No. He was faithful to Patsy, although I don’t know why.”

“He wasn’t the same person back then, though, was he?” He was nicer as far as Georgia could tell.

“No,” Carson reluctantly answered.

She took in his perturbed face. It bothered him that his dad might have been different. “And if he was faithful to his wife, then he must have hung on to some of his principles.”

“Yes.”

“It is important that your woman stays faithful?” she asked. Those pesky sparks had compelled her. She was curious about him. Or was she hoping she was wrong about him?

“Well, yeah. Who wants the person they’re involved with to cheat on them? Anyone who does has no respect for the one they’ve betrayed.”

She told herself that she’d already started this conversation. She may as well finish it. “You talk like a man who’s experienced it firsthand.”

A flight attendant stopped by and greeted them, interrupting and offering menus.

Carson put the papers down and took the menus, then asked for a specific bottle of champagne with strawberries.

Georgia eyed him as the flight attendant said, “Of course, sir.”

They’d get into Raleigh well after dinner, so they’d have to eat on the plane. That hardly warranted champagne. Georgia saw what he was doing and didn’t comment.

“Strawberries?” she asked.

“Delicious with champagne. One of my favorite combinations.” He leaned closer. “And something we rich people love to indulge in.”

Champagne and strawberries. Where was the caviar?

“I’ve had it before.”

He leaned back. “There you have it, then. You have rich tastes and I bet you never even knew it.”

She couldn’t help smiling, and even breathed a laugh. “How much is that champagne going to cost you?”

“More than you’ve ever paid.”

Was he being deliberately pretentious? “I could let you spoil me. Use you for your money just for a good time.”

His gaze floated all over her upper body and face. “You aren’t that type of woman.”

“How would you know? I made a promise to myself never to get trampled by a wealthy man.” The way Ruby had. She’d stick to her own class. One never could predict the future. Ruby sure hadn’t been able to. “I could be using you.”

He actually chuckled.

“You barely know me,” she said.

“I have a first impression. And I’m good at reading people. Your only hang-up is you don’t really know jack about rich people.”

Georgia had no idea why she was enjoying herself so much. He’d be insulting if he wasn’t talking in such a witty tone. But then, so would she.

“Oh, and is it your job, now, to teach me about them?”

“I think it’s going to be the first thing I’ve had the privilege to choose to do on my own since I was forced to leave the Marines.”

What did he mean by that? Before she could ask, the attendant returned for their dinner order.

“Do you mind if I choose?” he asked Georgia, showing her the menus.

She shrugged. He was playing some sort of game with her, and she discovered she didn’t mind. And he liked being able to choose on his own. He could try to prove rich people weren’t all snobs and the middle class had it all wrong. She wasn’t going to buy it. “As long as it’s not slimy or has tentacles, I’m okay with that.”

“Right in line with my taste.”

With another one of his sexy grins, he read the menu and then waited for the attendant to return. Then he ordered the filet mignon with grilled asparagus.

Georgia let him have his fun, telling herself it was harmless as long as she was immune to him. And it could be worse. She could be on his private jet.

When the attendant left, he said, “To pick up from earlier, I wasn’t speaking from experience. No one’s ever cheated on me, and I’ve never cheated on anyone. It’s up there with robbery and animal cruelty for me.”

It was so nonchalant that she had to stop and think about what he was saying. Why was it so important to him that she know he’d never been cheated on? Because of her perception of him? Maybe he didn’t want her to think that rich people didn’t have morals. It wasn’t his fault he was part of a ridiculously wealthy family.

“You feel strongly about it.”

“Yes.”

This wasn’t because of her perception of him. He really didn’t like cheaters. “You’re a real stand-up kind of guy, aren’t you?” Her surprise came out in her voice.

“Has anyone ever cheated on you?” he asked.

“No.” But that brought up thoughts she’d rather didn’t enter her conscience. She turned away from him.

He angled his head as though trying to see her face. “Something I said?”

“No.” She shook her head, shaking off the dark thoughts along with it.

He watched her a moment and then didn’t ask her any more questions. He gave her space. He’d nudged, but he knew when to back off, and she appreciated that. More than he could possibly know, and more than she’d tell him.

The champagne arrived, strawberries floating on the surface. Georgia took a glass from the attendant. The woman left and she met the play of mischief that had returned to Carson’s eyes.

“Is this what you do when you fly on your family jet?” she asked.

“No. Never.”

Never? She didn’t believe that. “This is just for me, huh? Have you ever treated a woman to champagne in a plane?”

“No. Never.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t believe you.”

“I haven’t. I’ve been in the military. If I’d have been here all this time, maybe I would have. I didn’t use the jet in the military.”

So, she was his first. She clinked her glass with his. “Here’s to trying new things.”

“To new things.”

She sipped some champagne. It was delicious. Sweet with a touch of dry.

“Is it the best you’ve ever had?” he asked.

She had to be honest. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to give you a lot of those.” He focused on the pages on the table before him, as though what he’d just said was an everyday thing.

“I don’t want you to spend money on me, Carson. I can pay my own way on this trip.”

“Hmm.” He nodded. “I know. But you aren’t going to.”

She twisted on the seat to face him more fully, still holding her glass. “No, Carson.”

He turned his head. “Relax, Georgia. I want to spend money on you. You need someone to spend money on you.”

Their meals arrived, and Georgia refrained from arguing with him. The dishes were gorgeous. She could forget she was on a commercial plane.

She dug in, savoring the flavor of the meat and loving that Carson had thought of this.

Carson stuck a forkful of meat in his mouth, all very not in a posh manner. He was more of a mountain man the way he ate the meat.

She laughed but had to set him straight. “I don’t need any of this. I’m happy with my humble existence. In fact, I prefer it.”

“You need to eat.”

“You know what I mean.” She spread her hand over her plate and lifted her champagne glass.

“Nobody needs it. But it sure is nice. Don’t you agree?” He waited while she debated how to answer.

She couldn’t lie. “It is nice.” But what was nice about it—first-class or him?

Chapter 4

Stepping up to the old redbrick building with rows of narrow windows and a flag waving out front, Carson entered the lobby of the Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune and told the receptionist he was here to see Major Sergeant Copeland. He’d left Georgia at their hotel. When he finished here, she was going out with him for ice cream, and not just any ice cream.

Copeland appeared moments later, his green suit decorated with rows of badges, ribbons and medals above the left breast pocket and rank insignia on his arm. Carson walked toward him, ever aware of the limp he couldn’t hide.

“Lieutenant Adair.” Copeland shook his hand. “Good to see you up and moving. You healed well.”

“Better than expected.” Better than not walking. He had to keep telling himself that.

“Come with me.”

Copeland wasn’t a man who wasted words. Carson followed him down a hall, certain that the man would someday rise to lead MARSOC. Through a secure door and down another hall, they entered a windowless office area. A woman worked behind a desk there, her pictured badge marked with her security level in a code the military base had chosen.

Through another secure door, they entered a conference room. There was a table to seat eight, a safe, a shredder and two computers at a desk in the back. A state-of-the-art computer monitor hung from the wall and there was a phone in the middle of the table. There were some papers lying out and some high-resolution satellite images.

“We had the local police in San Diego send us over what they have on the shooting attempt,” Copeland said, reaching for the papers and handing them to Carson. “I’ve had our guys looking into it and passed the information over to our marine in South Korea.”

Carson began to skim over the first report. “Is it Morris you’ve got over there?”

“Yeah.”

Morris was one of his teammates. Only three of them had made it out alive on their botched mission.

Copeland saw the grim change in him. “They all miss you. Hell, I miss you. You were one my best soldiers, Carson.”

Unwilling to talk about it, Carson moved to the table where the photos lay. There were several of North Korean facilities that must be used for weapons research and development. The photos didn’t show much, only changes in vehicles parked there, but the same vehicles showed up, nothing new and no increase in number.

“As you can see, there’s been no sign of unusual activity there,” Copeland said. “Nothing to indicate they’ve stepped up engineering efforts. There’s been no change in government activity, either.”

That suggested the North Koreans had failed in securing the information Carson and his team had been sent to intercept. Their intel had exposed a group of terrorists who were talking to North Korea’s leader and would have accepted money in exchange for information on pressure transducer technology. That was all Carson and his team were able to glean. The terrorists in Myanmar were in contact with someone, presumably someone from the United States, who had access to technology that would help North Korea manufacture their own transducer.

Transducers were used in gas centrifuges to produce weapons-grade uranium. That had been enough to send Carson and his team in to stop the transfer. They were never able to confirm success.

They had never learned the identity of the person who was going to bring the technology, only knew through the terrorists that the meeting would take place. Somehow the terrorists discovered their presence and a gunfight had erupted. One of Carson’s teammates had gone after the man the terrorists were supposed to meet. But the man got away, and Carson’s teammate had been killed. The plan had been to capture the man and interrogate him, along with stopping him from transferring sensitive US technology to an arms-embargoed country.

“They didn’t get the technology,” Carson said.

“Right. But then why did someone go after you?”

Why would the terrorists or the mystery man try to kill him if they didn’t have the technology? “Maybe the mystery man still had it and they’re waiting to arrange a new meet.”

“So they think killing you would facilitate that?”

Copeland was right. It didn’t make sense. Killing Carson and anyone else on the team wouldn’t stop the US military from organizing a mission to stop another transfer attempt.

“They’d want me alive if they thought I had it.” But why would they think he had it? And if the mystery man had it to begin with, what had happened to cause him to lose it? “Maybe they want revenge.”

Carson may not have been the easiest target to find after leaving the military, and it would take planning to attack him in San Diego. AdAir Corp had security, and the ranch had a security system. And if they believed Carson and his team had taken the data, they would presume they had given it to the US government. Carson or his teammates wouldn’t hang on to it. The revenge motive made sense in that regard.

But how had the mystery man lost the data? Carson had gone over the mission many times. He could think of no incident during the gunfight when someone could have taken the data. The mystery man had to have gotten away with it, or not had it with him at all.

“I’ve asked Morris to talk to the North Korean border guard he’s coerced to help us.”

“He’s in contact with a North Korean guard? How’d he manage that?”

“We’ll get him out of North Korea in exchange. He’s getting scared, though. Just before you called with the news that someone tried to kill you, Morris learned two North Korean engineers were executed and their families sent to prison camps. We believe this occurred after they failed to obtain the technology.”

“Isn’t it a little rash executing the brains behind his nuclear weapons program?”

“He recruited another engineer. Dual Chinese-Canadian citizen who got a green card and an education.”

“Who’s the engineer?”

Copeland gave him the name. “He isn’t the man we’re looking for.”

The engineer might be part of another mission. In fact, Carson didn’t doubt it. He felt a moment of regret that he couldn’t be part of it. But he was part of this mission.

“I’m happy to continue to be bait,” he said. “Draw the mystery man out.” If he’d shot at him once, he’d try again.

Copeland nodded. “That’s the main reason I asked you to meet me here. This all has to be kept secret. You aren’t part of the team anymore, but you’re my best chance at catching that man.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not doing it because I feel sorry for you. Man up if you’re having a tough time dealing with that.” Copeland pointed to his lame leg.

Carson grinned. The commander had set him straight. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Good, because I need you. Our problem here is that if the North Koreans didn’t get the technology and we didn’t bring it home, where is it?”

The best way to find out was to expose the mystery man, whom Carson believed was the same one who shot at him, the one who would have made the transfer, but for whatever reason, hadn’t.

“What did the San Diego police have?” Carson asked.

Copeland’s face lit with the good question. “Ah. They traced the car to a rental company. Whoever rented it used false identification. A background came up with somebody who’s been dead for fifteen years. They’re looking for the car now and I’m looking into who might have traveled from Myanmar, or anywhere near there, during the time of the mission.”

Carson nodded. That sounded promising. And despite Copeland’s lack of sympathy, Carson was thrilled to be part of the team again.

* * *

Georgia’s bracelets jingled as she brushed her long hair back over her shoulder and stepped by a row of treasure-lined shelves inside a village bookstore. It was an independent bookstore and the most delightful she’d ever seen. Converted from an old house, it had nooks and cozy seating areas and walls of books. Carson had reserved rooms at an old Victorian inn a short walk from here. The inn was on a farm with white fences and cows. Very upscale and also very soothing in a country way. The village was full of boutique shops and there was even a spa. She was glad Carson wasn’t here to see her melt in pleasure.

He’d left her here and drove to Camp Lejeune to meet with his commander. A classified meeting. Carson had been part of an elite military team and his missions fought terrorism and protected national security. The notion of him in that role clashed mightily with what she expected to encounter when she and Ruby arrived in San Diego. A hero. Carson Adair. An Adair. Hero. The two bounced around in her head, and she kept pushing back the hero version. The bookstore helped. It was like therapy, being among the thing she loved most on earth—books—in a place like this with creaky old floors and the smell of candles, potpourri and ink, made it easy not to think of Carson as a big bad heroic soldier.

Georgia purchased a book amid the soft tinkle of piano music and left with a satisfied smile. Walking up the street toward the white inn, she passed a linen-table restaurant that was only open for dinner and a gift shop. As she drew closer, she saw a limo parked in front of the inn. And then she saw Carson. He stood next to the open back door, waiting for her. Standing tall and lean and handsome in dark jeans and another Henley, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of an ad for a yacht.

She saw him notice her outfit, from the silver flower earrings to the silver boots that went with her gray knitted cardigan over a white T-shirt and dark low-rise jeans.

“Hi,” she said, and then feared there was too much enthusiasm in the greeting. Big bad soldier. Hero.

“Hi.” He grinned. “Let’s go get ice cream.” He opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to allow her inside.

She slid onto the leather seat and he got in after her.

“How did your meeting go?” She looked down his muscled torso to his long, thick legs. If not for his injury, he could probably run really far for a long, long time. He probably had when he was in the military. But he still had stamina for other activities...

“Good.”

His brief answer diverted her attention. “Just good?” That’s all she’d get?

“We’re a long way from finding out who shot at me.” He looked down at the small shopping bag she’d put beside her with her purse. “Did you buy something?”

“There’s a bookstore in the village.” She restrained her excitement and stopped herself from going on to say what a fabulous bookstore it was. She could talk about books all day and probably bore him to death. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep the beaming smile off her lips.

“Exactly why I chose this place.”

Because she was a librarian, and he knew she’d love it here. He’d known about the bookstore.

“I do love to read. I collect them, too.”

“Antique books?”

“Yes. It’s a challenge finding first editions at reasonable prices. But when I do...” She raised her eyes heavenward, enough to indicate the joy she felt when she found something special.

“What did you buy?”

Still smiling, she parted the tissue paper the clerk had wrapped her book in before putting it into the bag. It smelled like the store. She handed him the hardcover, a novel about a young girl who ran away from home and overcame countless obstacles. An underdog story. Her favorite.

“Not something I would have chosen but good for you.” He handed it back to her.

“What would you have chosen? Machiavelli?”

He chuckled. “Something Jack Reacher.”

She tucked the book back into its nest of tissue paper as the limo stopped in front of a gourmet ice-cream shop. It was every bit as quaint as the village she’d just left. How much more of this was he going to inflict upon her? And what was he trying to do? Win her over or just prove her wrong?

The driver opened the door. Carson got out and took her hand to help her out. She felt a little ridiculous. Not only was she unaccustomed to this, she was capable of getting out on her own. But he was going out of his way to be a gentleman. He even held the door for her as they entered the ice-cream shop.

“Ah, Mr. Adair,” the mid-forties man behind the counter said with a big smile. “You finally came back to North Carolina for a visit?”

The man knew Carson, which made him a regular here, which also pricked her curiosity.

“Yes, for a few days.”

“The Marines give you some time off?”

“Yeah. Quite a bit.”

Only Georgia knew the cynicism in that reply.

“You here for your aunt’s party? She ordered dessert. Is that what brings you here?”

His aunt? Who was his aunt?

“That’s one reason, yes.” He glanced at Georgia. “She’s expecting us.”

Her immediate reaction was that she did not want to go hang out with his family. Her next was incensed that Carson had planned to take her without telling her. Part of his ploy to prove she was wrong about his kind.

“That was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, doing his best to show contrition, albeit with a hint of humor.

That he was doing this all in fun helped, but she was beginning to think she should put the brakes on his shenanigans. “Haven’t you surprised me enough for one trip?”

“No. Not nearly.” He faced the man behind the counter. “We’ll share a butter pecan sundae.”

Georgia read the menu. A butter pecan sundae had four scoops of salted-butter caramel ice cream, pecans and whipped cream. Drizzled over all of that decadence was hot fudge and a caramel sauce. Oh, my...

He put his wallet away, and they moved out of the way to allow an older man in line behind them to order something.

“Ice cream is one thing, but a party?” she said. “What kind of party is it?”

“It’s a fund-raiser for missing children.”

How appropriate. He couldn’t have done it on purpose, though. Had he convinced his aunt to throw the party? She didn’t think so.

“Didn’t she know about Jackson?” she asked.

“Yes, but it never came up after years went by with no progress in the search. And my dad moved to San Diego, where he lost touch with his family. I kept in touch with Kate, though.”

“You’re close to your aunt?”

“As close as I can be.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Close to him was his brother and sister. So maybe his aunt was sort of close. But not close enough to warrant talks about a kidnapping that happened before he was even born.

“What is her full name?”

He looked taken aback that she didn’t know. “Kate Winston.”

Winston. “Former vice president of the United States Kate Winston?” She opened her mouth and let out an incredulous grunt. “You’re kidding me.”

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