The place had been abandoned for as long as he could remember, but it was on the far side of the lake on the outskirts of town, which meant he’d have at least an hour of peace before they realized Lexi’s lie and headed back.
Unfortunately, he had to walk straight across Main in order to get back to his parents’ house. Which meant he needed to find some place to lay low until the plague was gone.
Gage glanced up and down the alley. The bridal salon was two doors down from Sugar & Spice, but the thought of going in there made those cameras look almost appealing. Scent of Woman might have been an option, Lanie’s mother had always loved him, but he really didn’t want to smell like a flower the rest of the day. Which also left Petals, the florist, out.
His eyes skipped across the back door to the Sweetheart Sentinel, and then jerked back again. The newspaper. Probably the last place the journalists he was trying to escape would look for him. So the first place he should hide. It had been a long time since he’d seen Mr. Rawlings, although he wasn’t sure the man had ever liked him much.
But Gage was willing to take his chances.
3
DARTING DOWN THE NARROW passage, Gage grasped the back door and pulled it open. He half expected to walk into chaos—probably thanks to false Hollywood portrayals. Instead, everything was quiet. Oh, there were people working. He could hear the hushed rumble of voices, the clack of keyboards and the faint buzzing of a telephone.
He rounded the corner to a cubicle and stuck his head inside. Erica McNeil looked up from her computer screen, a startled expression on her face. “Gage Harper. What are you doing here?” Her shy gaze darted away from his. “How’d you get in?”
“Back door.” He grinned and leaned against the hard metal edge of her cubicle wall.
“What happened to your face? Is that from …” Her voice trailed off, her eyes widened and a faint blush crept up her pale cheeks. Everyone either wanted all the details of his capture and torture or they wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. Apparently Erica was in the latter group.
“Nope. I ran into a door.”
Her already-large eyes rounded more with surprise … and then narrowed to slits. Erica was about six or seven years older than he was and had babysat Lexi a few times. She always had been gullible.
“Stop harassing Erica.”
Hope’s voice sounded behind him. Gage smiled, although Erica was the only one to see it because before he spun around, he’d wiped it clean.
Adopting an air of innocence, he turned slowly to look at her. Her hands were balled into fists and lodged firmly on her hips. Her toe tapped against the worn carpeted floor, drawing his gaze down the long length of her legs. Up and down, up and down, the red sole of her black high heels flashed like a beacon.
He always had been a leg man and he had to admit Hope had a nice pair. Was it his imagination or were they even more toned than before?
Gage forced his gaze back up her body, taking in the tight skirt, silk blouse and matching suit jacket she wore. She looked like a high-powered businesswoman. Someone ready to take on the world and stomp it beneath the spiked heel of her shoe.
She was seriously overdressed for the Sweetheart Sentinel. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Hank, her father, wearing anything that resembled a business suit. Not even a blazer when he’d been honored by the town council as citizen of the year. He wondered if anyone had told Hope that. Not that he cared.
“I wasn’t harassing anyone, was I, Erica?” he asked, shooting her a disarming smile over his shoulder.
Erica’s gaze swung between them. Without answering his question, she swiveled in her chair, giving them her back and returning her focus to her computer screen.
Hope eyed him. He noticed how her gaze lingered on the damage to his face. But unlike everyone else, she knew exactly how he’d gotten the injuries. And unlike everyone else, she didn’t remark on them, but turned and walked away.
He followed. How could he not? The view of her tight rear was so tempting. The slit at the back of her skirt swished back and forth as she walked. It brushed against the inside of her thighs. Gage couldn’t tear his eyes away. Desire, hot and hard, punched through him. He almost stumbled.
After a quick, calming breath, Gage followed her inside the office just in time to watch her sink gracefully into the chair behind a large desk. The blotter was perfectly clean. Two folders, neatly labeled, sat to her left. A matching tape dispenser, stapler and hole punch were lined up beside them along with a cup of pens and a basket of paper clips. Just like her flawless suit, there was no clutter.
He wanted to loosen her up. To unravel that elegant twist in her hair and tousle it with his fingers. To pop open a few of those tightly closed buttons so that he could see the lace camisole beneath. To scrape everything off her desk and lay her out beneath him …
Oh, crap, where had that come from?
“Are you here to give me that interview, Gage?”
Clearing his throat and tossing the unwanted fantasy away, he dropped into the chair across from her. “Hell, no.” He sprawled, his long legs reaching beneath the desk to brush against the toe of her shoe.
She pulled it back. Gage’s lips twitched.
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m hiding.”
“From whom?”
“Does it matter?”
She studied him for several seconds before slowly saying, “Yes, I think it does.”
Gage shrugged. “Some reporters tracked me into Lexi’s store. I have no idea how they found me.” He placed his elbows on the opposite edge and leaned halfway across her desk. She started to back away, but stopped herself. He stared straight at her, hard and deadly, just for the fun of watching her eyes flash indignantly. “Any idea how they could have known I was in there?”
Hope’s mouth tightened with annoyance. “You’re kidding, right? Your photograph was splashed on every news outlet for weeks. They’ve been camped out here since before you were rescued. Unless you walk around town with a paper bag over your head, you’re doomed.”
“Don’t you think the paper bag would defeat the purpose? I mean, isn’t that a little conspicuous?”
Hope’s mouth twisted into a pitiful approximation of a smile. “Funny. And as much as I’d love to help you—” her tone of voice called that statement all kinds of liar “—we have a business to run, Gage. So unless you’re here for official reasons—”
“I’m not giving you an interview.”
“—you need to leave.”
She stood up from her desk, tugged at the hem of her skirt to make sure it was straight and walked around to stand expectantly beside him. Gage didn’t move. Instead, he turned his head and got a great view of the curve of her hip and ass. Why would he
