Her hair was a shade darker now, but the copper color was just as singular as it had been back then. He recalled how he’d stared at it with slack-jawed wonder when he first saw it as a boy. On the beach yesterday, when he’d had his first jolting encounter with her after two decades, she’d worn it in a high ponytail. Tonight, her hair had fallen in loose, sexy waves down her bare back. As he’d passed a window in his office, he’d caught a glimpse of it out on the terrace. The vision of her from the back had stopped him in his tracks. For a few seconds, everything had gone still and silent as he stared out the window, and his past and present had collided.
She wore a stunning aquamarine silk cocktail dress, the color echoing the alpine lake. He didn’t need to see her up close to know it also matched her eyes. She was fair, like most redheads. The palette of her copper hair, flawless skin, and the sumptuous fabric of her dress created a feast for the eyes. Even from that distance, he’d had a graphic, potent fantasy of burying his nose in her hair, sliding his lips against her flawless, soft skin . . . gently biting the flesh of her fragrant shoulder.
When he’d noticed the thin, inch-long scar at the corner of her pretty mouth the other day on the beach, something had sunk like lead inside him. The small imperfection only highlighted the overall harmony and beauty of her face. Someone who carried that scar shouldn’t have such an open, expressive countenance. They should be guarded and wary. It was a wonder to him that Harper wasn’t.
He’d seen more beautiful women. He’d had them. Many of them. But he’d never seen a woman more desirable than Harper McFadden.
Still.
He’d thought himself completely severed from Jake Tharp. He resented Harper, for making it so clear that boy was still alive inside him, still making him do things he’d regret . . . like suggesting to Cyril that he make a movie based on her story and offering to finance it. Like invite her here tonight, because he’d proved too weak to resist.
Like submit to the temptation of her pink, sexy mouth, fragrant hair, and soft skin.
His body hardened of its own accord at the piercing memory, making him frown. He’d wanted her so badly when he was a kid. He’d been so naïve, he hadn’t even understood how he’d wanted her. How was it possible, that the unfulfilled desire of a thirteen-year-old boy could have such an effect on him now? It was as if Harper had reanimated that hungry child inside him. It was unbearable. Unacceptable. And yet . . . that hunger continued, gnawing at him like a dull ache.
“Jacob?”
The surprised call tore him out of his brooding. Elizabeth walked down the stone path that led to the dock.
“I assumed you were up in your suite,” she said, sounding startled. He turned back to face the lake, distractedly listening to her footsteps approach. “I was just making sure that everything was cleared. All of the guests are gone. That is if . . . Did Harper McFadden go?”
“She’s gone.”
He sensed her hesitation, and realized belatedly he’d been sharp. He knew Elizabeth had seen him leave the terrace with Harper. She’d assumed Harper had accompanied him upstairs. Another spike of irritation went through him. Despite his self-lecture about how Harper’s departure was for the best, he was still annoyed that she’d rejected him.
How contrary could he be?
“Well, I thought the night went well, anyway,” Elizabeth said briskly, determined to ignore his brusqueness: just one of her many good qualities. “It was nice that you were able to attend for a bit. Stewart Overton called earlier. He wanted to confirm your meeting. He’s taking a chopper in from Travis,” she said, referring to Travis Air Force Base.
“Any news from Alex on ResourceSoft?”
“Everything is going smoothly with that, apparently. Fingers crossed, anyway. Regina Morrow just called, as well.”
His head swung around. “Did she sound all right?”
“I think so. I mean . . . better than she has on other occasions, anyway.”
Jacob nodded slowly, aware of Elizabeth’s delicacy on the subject of Regina Morrow. Elizabeth and Regina had formed a friendship of sorts over the years. He told Elizabeth almost everything. As his primary assistant, Elizabeth saw to many details in regard to Regina’s upkeep and care. But there were a few cards he held close to his chest, like the one relating to the nature of his and Regina’s complicated relationship.
“It’s late. I’ll call her in the morning,” Jacob said.
“I put a few faxes on your desk that came from Jenny, if you’d like to take a look at them before bed,” she said. Jenny Caravallo was his secretary in San Francisco. Elizabeth knew he often took work to bed.
“It’ll wait until morning. I’m taking a swim,” he said, turning abruptly.
“Oh.” She sounded surprised, and Jacob understood why. He didn’t make a habit of taking midnight swims. “Do you need anything?”
“Nothing that some cold water and exercise won’t cure. Make sure you don’t activate the terrace security system. I’ll do it when I go inside. Tell Tim to go. I’ll call at the guard station when I go in for the night,” he said, referring to Tim Stanton, a security employee who usually took nighttime watch at the rear of the property. He paused next to Elizabeth and met her stare. “I want complete privacy.”
She blinked at his quiet adamancy.
“Of course. Whatever you need, Jacob.”
“I’m sorry for being so brusque earlier. I have a lot on my mind. Thanks for staying late tonight. Why don’t you take tomorrow off?”
“I have too much to do, you know that,” she said with a smile.
“Then don’t come in until noon. Relax a little.”