***
Grayson Cole was fucking ice staking. Laughing and skating and acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
The sonofabitch.
Rage built as he watched the lovers on the ice. Always touching. Always glancing at each other.
It wasn’t fair. Grayson had wrecked his world and all along…he’d had her waiting. The woman who melted the freaking Iceman. Who made Grayson light up like a Christmas tree. This wasn’t the spy he’d known. This wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.
This was a man with a very, very obvious weakness.
He almost felt sorry for the woman. She had no idea that she’d just been yanked into the middle of a war. She’d suffer. She’d beg. She’d die before it was all over.
Yes, he almost did feel sorry for her.
It’s all Grayson’s fault. Everything…it all went back to Grayson.
He turned away from the rink and headed back toward the crowd that waited on Main Street. Or, more specifically, to the idiot who would be supplying him with information. An idiot he’d scouted out last night.
Matthew Vail.
Thanks for the ride, asshole. It was hard not to laugh when he saw the guy. After he’d watched Matthew fight with Grayson, it had been an obvious choice to take the fellow’s truck. A quick bit of hot-wiring, and he’d been in business.
Matthew was standing there, watching the carolers, drinking some hot chocolate. Swaying his body a bit in time with the song. Douche.
He’d watched the guy take flowers into the chocolate shop, and he’d wondered if Grayson had some competition. Let’s find out.
“Hey, man!” He slapped his hand on Matthew’s shoulder and pasted a wide, friendly smile on his face.
Matthew turned toward him, with a hesitant smile on his face.
“Love your gym,” he said. Total bullshit. He’d never been in there. “Thanks for a great place to work out while I’m in town.”
Matthew’s chest puffed out as his smile widened.
Studying his prey, he said, “Didn’t I see you with that pretty chocolate shop lady earlier?” He whistled. “Talk about sweet…”
Matthew’s smile faltered. “She is.” He glanced toward the darkened shop.
“That your girl?” Tell me about her. Tell me everything.
“No.” Matthew’s smile was definitely gone now. “No, she isn’t my girl.”
He quickly held up his hands. “Sorry, man! Didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.”
But Matthew shook his head. “You didn’t. My fault.” He rolled back his shoulders. “I should be going.”
You are not helping me, buddy. Not at all. “Want me to buy you a drink?” he said quickly. Maybe that would make the guy talk—and get him to reveal more about the cute little chocolatier.
“Not for me. I screwed up with Jemma, but I won’t be making that mistake again. Getting my priorities straight now.” Matthew inclined his head. “Hope you enjoy your stay in Holly.”
Matthew shuffled away.
Fucking dead end.
But…his gaze slid toward that darkened shop. Jemma was busy with Grayson right then. Her shop was just waiting. Maybe he’d go over there and take a look around. See if there was anything inside the place that would tell him more about Jemma White.
Yeah, he’d just go over to the chocolate shop and take a quick look inside. Let’s see if you have some secrets I can use, Jemma.
He focused his gaze on her shop…and slipped across Main Street.
Chapter Six
He was used to dodging bullets. Used to sneaking into buildings. Disarming his enemies.
But taking a casual stroll down a street decked out for the holidays? Holding Jemma’s hand? Stopping to sip hot chocolate?
I am not used to this shit, but I sure do like it.
The carolers were still singing. A guy in a big, red Santa suit had even joined the fun. Grayson’s eyes narrowed on Santa. Was that…Brad? It was hard to tell with that bushy, white beard and the extra padding, but it sure looked like it might be his buddy.
Grayson’s lips twitched.
This is what I needed. This place. His gaze tracked over to Jemma.
This woman. A woman who’d gotten right past his defenses. A woman who was slipping into his heart.
Her head turned toward him. She caught him staring at her, and a wide smile curved her lips. He just had to bend toward her and put his lips against hers. The crowd vanished, and it was just…her.
Sweet Jemma.
Jemma White, where have you been all my life?
Someone bumped him from behind. He looked back and saw a line of kids rushing toward Santa. Kids. He didn’t have much experience with them, that was for damn sure.
So why in the hell was he suddenly picturing a little girl with Jemma’s blue eyes?
“How about we get away from the throng?” Jemma said. Her fingers tugged on his. “Maybe go someplace a little more private?”
Oh, hell, yes, that sounded like a great plan to him. They turned around and headed back to her shop. Her car was there, and so was his SUV. They’d get the vehicles and go…where?
Her place?