A Hideaway Wedding Wager

Twins Ana and Jason, along with their cousin Nicholas, are successful thirtysomethings who are single—and loving it. They have no idea that their relatives are betting on which one of them will get married first. But by the family’s New Year’s Eve reunion, will all three have learned what it means to be really lucky—in love?

Can she trust him with her life…and her heart?

As CEO of Serenity Records, Ana Cole never backs down. Now the hot new recording artist she’s signed has made her the target of death threats, forcing her to go into hiding. And protecting her is U.S. marshal Jacob Jones.

Jacob has better things to do on his vacation than play bodyguard. Until he gets a glimpse of the body he’ll be guarding… Spending days and nights together in close quarters stokes their mutual attraction into an inferno of desire. But if Jacob can outwit a would-be assassin, will their love outlast his assignment?

Summer Vows

Rochelle Alers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Hideaway Wedding Series

Good-natured boasting raises its multimillion-dollar head at the Cole family compound during a New Year’s Eve celebration. Family patriarch Martin Cole proposes each man in attendance place a one-million-dollar wager to the winner’s alma mater as an endowment in their name. The terms: predicting who among Nicholas, Jason or Ana will marry before the next New Year’s Eve.

Twins Jason and Ana Cole have given no indication they are even remotely thinking of tying the knot. Both claim they are too busy signing new talent to their record label. Former naval officer Nicholas Cole-Thomas has also been dragging his feet when it comes to the opposite sex. However, within the next six months Ana, Nicholas and Jason will encounter a very special person who will not only change them, but change their lives forever.

In Summer Vows, when CEO of Serenity Records Ana Cole signs a recording phenom to her label, she ignites a rivalry that targets her for death. Her safety and well-being are then entrusted to family friend, U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones, and Ana is forced to step away from the spotlight and her pampered lifestyle. She unwillingly follows Jacob to his vacation home in the Florida Keys until those responsible for the hit on her life are apprehended. Once Ana gets past Jacob’s rigid rules, she finds herself surrendering to the glorious sunsets and the man willing to risk everything, including his heart, to keep her safe and make her his own.

Nicholas Cole-Thomas’s entry into the world of horse breeding has caused quite a stir in Virginia’s horse country. Not only is he quite the eligible bachelor, but there is also a lot of gossip about his prized Arabian breeding stock. In Eternal Vows, Nicholas meets Peyton Blackstone, the neighboring farm’s veterinarian intern. He is instantly drawn to her intelligence, but recognizes the vulnerability she attempts to mask with indifference. Nicholas offers Peyton a position to work on his farm, and when they step in as best man and maid of honor at his sister’s spur-of-the-moment wedding he tries to imagine how different his life would be with a wife of his own. Just when he opens his heart to love again, someone from Peyton’s past resurfaces to shatter their newfound happiness, and now Nicholas must decide whether their love is worth fighting for.

Record executive Jason Cole will admit to anyone that he has a jealous mistress: music. As the artistic director for Serenity Records Jason is laidback, easygoing and a musical genius. His brief tenure running the company is over and he’s heading to his recording studio in a small remote Oregon mountain town to indulge in his obsession. But all that changes in Secret Vows, when Jason hears restaurant waitress Greer Evans singing backup with a local band. As they become more than friends, he is unaware of the secret she jealously guards with her life. And when he finds himself falling in love with Greer, Jason is stunned to find she is the only one who stands between him and certain death, at the same time realizing love is the most desperate risk of all.

Don’t forget to read, love and live romance.

Rochelle Alers

Happy the husband of a good wife, twice-lengthened are his days; a worthy wife brings joy to her husband, peaceful and full is his life.

—Sirach 26:1, 2

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter 17

Prologue

Martin Diaz Cole extended the lacquer and walnut burl finish humidor to his youngest brother, waiting for David to select a cigar. He repeated the gesture with his brother Joshua, and then his nephew Timothy before he selected his. It was hours from dawn and yet the other three men seemed reluctant to retire to the suites assigned them or to their respective homes.

It was a ritual that had been repeated for more years than Martin could remember. The entire Cole extended family came to West Palm Beach, Florida, on Christmas Eve for a reunion that usually culminated with a wedding before the end of the year. But unfortunately there had not been a wedding in several years—not since his nephew Diego married Vivienne Neal. His niece Celia didn’t figure into the equation because she’d married her FBI special agent husband in Virginia and hadn’t been able to repeat her vows for the entire family because a winter storm had blanketed North Carolina’s Great Smoky Mountains with nearly two feet of snow. She’d also been in the second trimester of her pregnancy and had curtailed traveling until after the birth of her daughter.

Using a cutter, Martin snipped the end of the cigar, moistened, lit it and pulled in a mouthful of sweet, fragrant tobacco. It wasn’t the quality of the finest Cuban cigar, but it came close.

David Cole blew out a perfect smoke ring. “Are you certain these aren’t contraband, Martin?”

The first time Martin had smoked a Cuban cigar was when he’d visited his late mother’s country of birth after graduating college, and he’d found himself enthralled with them. Over the years he’d smoked cigars from around the world, but none compared to a Cuban. “Bite your tongue, little brother. We both wish.”

Squinting through a cloud of smoke, David Cole’s jet-black eyes narrowed. “When am I going to stop being your little brother, Martin? I’m old as dirt, almost completely gray, and I’m a grandfather.”

“And you still have two kids who should either become a priest or nun, because they’re never going to get married,” Joshua Kirkland teased.

David glared at his half brother, hoping to intimidate him, but knew there were few things or people who could intimidate or frighten the retired career army officer. “Don’t act so smug, Josh. Serena and I had four children to your two, so there’s no comparison.”

A rare smile tilted the corners of Joshua’s firm mouth. “My two kids have given me six grandchildren, and still counting, hermano. How many do you have?”

David took another puff of his cigar. Even after so many years the teasing had continued. As the youngest of five, he’d been the last to marry and father children. His wife had given him four children, the last two twins, and the taunts about his children being marriage-phobic subsided when his older son and daughter married. It was only his twins who appeared reluctant to settle down. He knew both were too involved in growing the record company he’d established years ago.

“Don’t look so smug, Josh. I’m willing to bet when Jason and Ana marry they’ll both have a whole bunch of children between them.”

Timothy Cole-Thomas leaned forward, staring at his uncle. “Is there something you’re not telling us, David?”

Dimples creased David’s lean face when he smiled for the first time. He knew his twins better than anyone—and that included their mother. Both were comfortable divulging their closely guarded secrets about the business and their personal lives with him. Ana, as CEO of Serenity Records, had just signed a hot new recording artist that was rumored to become a crossover phenomenon. His daughter had confided to him that she now felt secure enough to shift her focus from business to her personal life. She’d recently closed on a condo and bought a new car—two things on her “to-do” list she’d neglected for years. For years she’d rented a studio apartment, while contracting with a car service to drive her around.

“Not really.”

Martin ran a hand over his cropped silver hair. “I think David should put his money where his mouth is.”

“Hear, hear!” chorused Joshua and Timothy.

Grinning, David shook his head. “You guys have got to be kidding.”

“Do we look like we’re kidding?” asked Joshua. “I agree with Martin. You should put up or shut up.”

David squinted through a cloud of gray smoke as he met the gazes of his brothers and nephew. “Well, gentlemen, I’m willing to wager a million dollars that my son or daughter will marry before Nicholas. What’s the matter? Is the wager a little too steep?” he asked when a groan and soft whistles echoed in the library.

“I don’t mind donating the million if it’s going to a worthy cause,” Timothy said.

Joshua cleared his throat. “Who are we betting on?”

“It has to be Jason and Ana,” Martin remarked.

“Don’t forget Nicholas and Joe, Jr.,” David reminded him.

Timothy Cole-Thomas crossed a leg over the opposite knee. “It can’t be Joe, because his father’s not here for the wager.

Martin nodded. “Timothy’s right. It will just be the four of us. I’m willing to put up a million, but, David, you’re going to have to ante up two mil because you have two kids to Timothy’s one.”

The seconds ticked as the three men stared at David. “No problem,” he said after a pregnant pause. “I’ll wager two million. Whoever wins will establish an endowment in his name at his alma mater. If none marry, then we’ll set up a foundation in the family name: ColeDiz.”

“What are the rules, Martin?” Joshua asked.

David frowned. “Why are you asking him? It’s my kids you guys are betting on.”

“Mine, too,” Timothy reminded him. “It has to be either Martin or Joshua to determine the rules if this wager is going to be impartial.”

“Timothy’s right,” Joshua concurred. “Let Martin establish the contest rules.”

David’s frown faded. “Okay.”

Martin stood up and walked over to an antique desk and picked up a pad, then handed a sheet of paper to each of the assembled. “Write down the names in the order in which you believe Nicholas, Jason and Ana will marry. Also indicate the name of your alma mater.

Joshua Kirkland jotted down his wager. “David, if you’re a little short on funds, I’ll spot you a million,” he teased.

“Yeah, right,” David drawled. As Samuel Cole’s son, purported to be the first black U.S. billionaire, money had never been a problem for anyone claiming Cole blood.

Martin completed his slip. “We’ll put the slips in an envelope, seal it and everyone can put their initial across the flap. Next year this time we’ll open them to find out the winner.” Pushing off his chair, he stood up and stubbed out his cigar and placed the envelope in a wall safe behind a framed print of James Baldwin. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m exhausted. Happy New Year,” he said, with a mock salute. “I’ll see everyone at brunch.”

One by one the men walked out of the library. David was the last one to leave. He wasn’t as concerned with his children marrying because he and Serena had raised them to be free spirits. His eldest son and daughter had married and had given him grandchildren. That was enough for him.

Unlike his brothers, Martin and Joshua, David was not competitive. Never was and never would be. Martin had always been the consummate businessman and Joshua the military career officer. He’d had a brief stint as CEO of ColeDiz International, Ltd., but for him it had always been music. First it had been his band Night Mood and then his independent recording company Serenity Records. The label’s focus had always been discovering new talent and it had continued until he retired and turned the day-to-day operation over to Jason and Ana.

The odds were in his favor, because he had two children with which to wager. And he predicted Ana would be the first to marry because he’d overheard her talking to her mother about her biological clock. At thirty-three she only had two more years before she would fall into the high-risk category. However, David wasn’t as certain when it came to his son or nephew.

Nicholas owned and operated a horse farm in Virginia and the last he’d heard was that the former naval officer wasn’t even remotely close to becoming involved with a woman. It was the same with Jason. His son hadn’t been a relationship in years, and seemed quite content living the life of a bachelor.

Snuffing out his cigar, David pushed to his feet and left the library. He usually didn’t make resolutions for the New Year, but this was one time he wanted to lord it over his brothers and nephew that there was nothing wrong with his unmarried twins. And if he did win the wager, then he would make certain to never let them forget it.

Chapter 1

Los Angeles, California

Camille Nelson felt a shiver of fear snake its way up her spine when a shadow fell across her desk. She was well aware of the company rule for not eating, reading anything not related to Slow Wyne Records, and other infractions like styling hair, repairing makeup or gum chewing while at her desk. Personal telephone calls were relegated to lunch hours, and only when not seated at the desk. She’d heard that an accounting clerk had been placed on probation for talking to her mother when she’d called to check on her sick preschooler during a staff meeting.

Her head popped up and she forced a smile when she saw her boss glaring down at her. “Good morning, Mr. Irvine.”

A frown marred the forehead of the CEO of Slow Wyne Records when he saw the magazine spread out on his executive assistant’s desk. Earlier that morning he’d read and reread every word of the Rolling Stone magazine article on Justin Glover and he had to admit the reporter had hit the mark when he declared the young singing sensation was the second coming of the late King of Pop Michael Jackson.

“Put that away and come with me,” he barked at Camille. “And bring your tools.” Basil Irvine strode toward the carved double doors leading to his office, expecting her to follow him like an obedient child.

Camille gathered her steno pad and three pencils. Although her boss was only forty-three, he still hadn’t come into the twenty-first century where executive assistants no longer took dictation, but transcribed their boss’s notes from tape recorders. She didn’t question her boss, because she needed the job. After a contentious and costly divorce Camille couldn’t afford to do anything wherein she would lose her position at Slow Wyne Records. Even sleeping with Basil Irvine wasn’t a guarantee that he wouldn’t eventually give her a pink slip. She wasn’t the first woman at the company to sleep with Basil, and she knew she wouldn’t be the last.

She sat at the round table in an alcove of an office that was larger than her studio apartment, while Basil folded his stocky body down into a leather executive chair. Sunlight poured into the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, reflecting off his shaved gold-brown freckled pate.

“I want you to send a letter to Ana Cole, CEO of Serenity Records. It’s in Boca Raton, Florida.” He waited for Camille to jot down her shorthand symbols. “Dear Ms. Cole. Everyone at Slow Wyne would like to congratulate Serenity Records for the successful launch of Justin Glover’s first album. Mr. Glover’s musical talent and success impacts the entire industry, and I’m certain it will usher in a new era with a fusion of musical genres.” He paused, his gray eyes narrowing. “Use my usual closing.” Unlocking a drawer, Basil handed her a flash drive when she approached his desk. “And Camille,” he added when she turned to leave, “don’t forget office rules apply to you, too.”

Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Irvine. It won’t happen again.”

Leaning back in his chair, Basil glared at her. “I know it won’t—that is if you want to continue to work here.”

Camille nodded as she walked out of the opulent office, softly closing the door behind her. What her boss didn’t know was that she would’ve handed in her resignation a week after he’d hired her if she didn’t need the money. Working for and sleeping with a record executive was a lot better than swinging around a pole in a gentlemen’s club, where she’d had to put up with men pawing her just because they’d slipped her a few dollars. And when she’d finally made it to the champagne room where she had to give lap dances, she found herself more times than not holding her breath for fear she’d lose the contents of her stomach from their alcohol-soured breaths. Basil had become her temporary savior and her loyalty to him was limitless.

She didn’t know about the other women who’d slept with Basil Irvine, but he’d disclosed things to her that she could use to bring down the man who ran his company like a maximum-security prison. He’d become the warden and his employees were the inmates.

She also knew his letter to Serenity Records was a ruse for a trap he had yet to spring. Basil’s ego was as large as the Pacific Ocean and the one thing he refused to accept was failure. He’d failed to sign Justin to Slow Wyne, and had sworn he would make Serenity Records pay for what he deemed an act of betrayal. Basil had been the first to hear Justin’s demo record, but after Slow Wyne offered the young twenty-year-old a deal that had him indebted to the company for the first two years of his contract, Justin’s agent went to Serenity. Basil knew he needed to change the terms of the contract or he would lose Justin. Then it had become a bidding war with Serenity as the winner even though their last bid was lower than Slow Wyne’s. Basil had sworn he would make the singer and Ana Cole pay for their deception.

Camille could care less about an East Coast–West Coast hip-hop rivalry reminiscent of the 1990s hostility between Death Row and Bad Boys Records. She was being paid a salary that exceeded her qualifications when she’d first come to work for the company. However, she’d made good use of the steady paycheck. She rented a small apartment in an up-and-coming neighborhood and had enrolled in a secretarial school where she’d taken the courses needed to become an efficient executive assistant.

She took care of Basil’s needs in and out of the boardroom. In the throes of passion he’d admitted she was the best “lay” he’d ever had. Camille didn’t mind the epithet, because she’d been called worse. She’d planned to use everything in her feminine arsenal to get whatever she needed from Basil before his reign of terror came to an abrupt end. And she knew it would end. She’d started hustling at an early age, and now at twenty-six she knew it was just a matter of time before her face and body would fail to attract men who were willing to trade money for sex.

Sitting at the desk outside her boss’s office, she inserted the flash drive into a port and began transcribing the letter. After saving what she’d typed and printing it out, Camille returned the drive to a locked drawer in her desk. At the end of the workday she returned the flash drive to Basil, who locked it in his desk. There were documents on the drive that could incriminate the executives of Slow Wyne and could send them to jail for either life or for very lengthy sentences. She could care less about the inner workings of the record company. She was just an employee following orders.

Camille read and reread what she’d typed, tapped slightly on Basil’s door and walked into his office when he told her to enter. She left the letter and envelope in his inbox and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you later tonight.” It wasn’t a request, but a command.

She nodded, smiling. It was her birthday and Camille had hinted to Basil there was a bracelet in a Beverly Hills jewelry store she wanted. If he didn’t get her the bracelet, then she was certain he would give her something comparable.

Boca Raton, Florida

Ana Cole sat across the table for two in her favorite Boca Raton restaurant, smiling at her cousin. She usually interacted with Tyler Cole twice a year—at Thanksgiving and the week between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day, but that was never enough for her. Of all of her many male cousins, Tyler was her favorite. He was like an older brother and father-figure rolled into one. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t able to talk to her father, but Tyler was usually more objective than David Cole—especially when it came to her relationships.

The first time she’d fallen in love and confessed to her father that her boyfriend had cheated on her, David Cole’s response was that he would hunt him down and break his legs. Then it was her brother Gabriel who’d insinuated himself into her love life, monitoring and intimidating the men whose lifestyles were diametrically opposed to the way they were raised. Years later, after her first and only serious relationship ended, Ana lied to her father for the first time in her life. The man with whom she believed was her soul mate had also cheated on her. This time she confided in Tyler, who told her to regard every man who showed an interest in her as a potential husband. If she couldn’t see herself spending the next fifty years with him, then she should not go beyond a third date. Ana had taken his advice and now at thirty-three she felt secure in her career and her personal life.

Her dimpled smile matched Tyler’s. “How’s the family?”

Picking up the napkin at his place setting, Tyler spread it over his lap. “They’re wonderful. The boys are growing like weeds and Astra is the indisputable boss of the house.”

Ana speared a forkful of the Cesar salad with grilled shrimp. “Don’t you want another daughter, Tyler?”

Tyler’s dark eyes met a pair in amber with gold glints. Ana reminded him of a delicate raven-haired doll. Her short hair was always coiffed, her olive-brown skin flawless and her delicate features, dimpled smile and petite figure had most men giving her a second glance.

“Are you certain you’re not clairvoyant?”

Ana’s fork paused in midair. “No. Am I missing something primo?”

“Dana’s pregnant, and this time it’s a girl.”

A tiny shriek slipped past her lips and Ana glanced around the crowded restaurant to see if anyone had heard her. It appeared as if the other diners were too engrossed in their food or their dining companions. “That’s incredible news! When is she due?”

“Mid-September.”

She did the mental calculation. Her cousin’s wife was five months pregnant, and this was her first time hearing about it. “Is Dana all right?” she asked.

Tyler expressive black eyebrows lifted a fraction. “She’s good. We decided not to say anything until all tests indicated the baby is normal.” He smiled. “I called my mom and dad earlier this morning to give them the good news.”

Leaning back in her chair, Ana stared at Tyler. Like so many men in her family, he had begun graying in his thirties. The brilliant ob-gyn was now in his late forties and was to become a father for the fourth time. He’d named his first son after his father and the second one after his paternal grandfather, while he and Dana adopted their daughter after the infant’s orphaned mother died in childbirth. Now Astra was about to become a big sister.

“I know you’re here for a conference, but do you think you’ll have time to go up to West Palm to see your folks?”

Tyler took a sip of sparkling water. “They’re driving down tonight. I’m scheduled to chair one panel and sit on one, both on the same day. I’m not flying back to Mississippi until Friday. I told Dana I was going to stay an extra day to reconnect with my sister, but when I called Arianna her housekeeper said she, Silah and their kids had just left for Paris.”

The Kadirs lived in Fort Lauderdale when their children were in school and in their fashion designer father’s native Morocco during the summer months. The Kadir children spoke English, Spanish and French. Tyler shook his head. “My sisters are gypsies,” he continued. “The only time I get to see Arianna is during Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas.”

Reaching across the table, Ana placed her hand on Tyler’s. “You’re turning into your father, complaining that he doesn’t see his children or grandchildren enough.”

“Wait until you have children, Ana, and then you’ll realize what it is to have your children spread out all over the world. My kids are still young, but I miss my sisters. Regina lives in Brazil, but she only comes to the States once or twice a year. Arianna divides her time between Florida and North Africa or Europe. At least your father has his children and grandchildren within a couple of hours of a car or plane ride.” He reversed their hands. “Enough talk about the family. What about you? How are you doing?”

A smile parted Ana’s lips. “Life is good for Serenity Records. Justin Glover—aka O’Quan Gee’s debut album is number one on the Billboard chart.”

Tyler angled his head and laughed, attractive lines fanning out around his large eyes. Anyone looking at him and Ana would’ve taken them for brother and sister. The first cousins had inherited their paternal grandmother’s olive coloring, delicate features and dimpled smile.

“I wasn’t talking about rappers and hip-hop artists, Ana. I’m talking about you. Are you seeing anyone?”

She averted her gaze. “Not right now.” Her eyes met and fused with Tyler’s. “To tell you the truth it has been a while since I’ve been involved with a man. I have male friends I can call if I don’t want to go a social function by myself, but most times I attend the award ceremonies with Jason.”

“You can’t marry your brother, Ana.”

She laughed quietly. “I know that, Tyler, but he’s the only man, other than those in my family, that I can trust.” Without warning, Ana sobered. “Can you answer one question for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Why do men cheat?”

The seconds ticked as Tyler stared at something over Ana’s shoulder. “I can’t answer that because I’ve never cheated on Dana.”

“How about your girlfriends before you married her?”

His gaze swung back to her. “I’d never cheated on them, either. Even if I’d wanted to I could never forget what Abuela went through with grandpa when she’d discovered he had fathered an illegitimate child.”

“Uncle Josh is as much a part of our family as your dad or mine,” Ana argued softly.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, Ana. It shouldn’t have taken more than thirty years for everyone to accept him as a Cole even though his last name was Kirkland.”

She exhaled an audible sigh. “Our grandfather cheated on our grandmother, and I can’t seem to find a man who doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with sleeping with more than one woman at the same time. It’s the same with celebrities. They date one woman and father a child, then move on to the next without a pang of conscience that they’ve become a serial baby daddy.”

“Therein is your problem. You have to stop dating guys in the business.”

“I would if I happened to meet one who’s not in the business. But, day in and day out it’s songwriters, musicians, recording artists and producers. I’m ready to try one of those dating sites, but with my luck I’ll end up with a psycho.”

“Don’t do that, Ana. I can always hook you up with one of my colleagues.”

She shook her head. “And have him think I’m desperate. I don’t have a problem attracting men, Tyler. It’s just that I attract the wrong ones. Would you believe I was hit on by a twenty-year-old?”

Tyler swallowed a mouthful of savory crab cake. “Who’s that?”

“Justin Glover aka O’Quan Gee aka OG.”

“What’s up with the stage names? Why doesn’t he just go by Justin Glover?”

“He’s a crossover artist. He’ll record pop and R&B under Justin and rap and hip-hop as O’Quan Gee.”

Tyler chuckled under his breath. “How does it feel to be a cougar?”

Ana rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so, Tyler. There is nothing a twenty-year-old can do for me. I have enough trouble with immature thirtysomething baby boys. And for all his musical genius Justin may prove to be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s good and he knows it. But I’ll let Jason handle the musical end of his career. I had enough issues trying to convince him to sign with Serenity instead of Slow Wyne. It ended in a bidding war where we signed him for less than what Slow Wyne would’ve offered, but our perks are more lucrative. We also included a morality clause at the insistence of our publicist: no drugs, DUIs or DWIs and he cannot become involved in any paternity suits for the term of his contract.”

“How long is his contract?”

“Two years with an option to renew for an additional two. Slow Wyne wanted to tie him up for two years with a five year option. Negotiations became a little dicey when Basil Irvine went gangsta on me, but in the end he had to back down.”

“What do you mean he went gangsta?”

Staring at the twitching muscle in her cousin’s jaw, Ana chided herself for mentioning the telephone conversation between herself and the CEO of Slow Wyne. “He said I would pay for stealing Justin away from him.”

“Pay how, Ana?”

She forced a brittle smile. “I don’t know. He didn’t go into detail.”

“Aren’t you concerned that he threatened you?” Tyler asked.

“Not really. He was just acting like a little boy who couldn’t get his way. Basil Irvine doesn’t have the best reputation when it comes to his artists. He will throw a few dollars at them—more money than they’ve ever seen to win them over. He also has a reputation for hosting elaborate parties for his artists complete with beautiful women, premium champagne and I suspect drugs, and in the end he’ll own their souls. His performers make a lot of money, but unfortunately too many of them die before they’re able to get what’s coming to them. If they’re not involved in some feud or have beef with another performer, then it’s a drug overdose.”

“I want you to be careful, because this clown sounds like he’s going to be trouble,” Tyler warned softly.

“If he wants trouble, then he’ll get it,” Ana countered. “As soon as he issued the threat I told him I was going to tape all of our conversations. I suppose it was enough for him to back off. He sent me a letter last month congratulating Serenity after Justin’s album debuted at number one.”

“What was your response?”

“I called and thanked him personally. He mentioned something about sharing drinks at the next Grammy awards, and I told him I would make certain to set aside time to meet with him.”

“So, you’ve kissed and made up?”

Ana’s mouth twisted. “We’re more like fremenies.”

“Friend or enemy, you still should watch him.”

Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, Ana affected a bored expression. “I try not to give him a passing thought.”

Tyler glanced at his watch, touched the napkin to the corners of his mouth and then placed it beside his plate. “I hate to eat and run, but I want to go back to my hotel and unwind before I go over my notes for tomorrow’s presentation.”

Ana realized her cousin must have gotten up early to fly in from Mississippi. She’d offered to have him stay in her condo, but Tyler said it was more convenient to check into the hotel where the conference was to take place. Reaching into her handbag, she took out her wallet and placed enough money on the table to cover their meal and a generous tip.

“Thanks for sharing lunch.”

Tyler winked at her. “Thanks for inviting me and next time it’s on me.” Pushing back his chair, he stood up and came around the table to ease back Ana’s chair. “Are you coming to Hillsboro for Thanksgiving?”

She looked at him. “Are you sure Dana’s going to be up to hosting Thanksgiving so soon after giving birth?”

“We’re having it catered.”

She nodded. Although she wasn’t married and had no children Ana always got together with her cousins and their families for Thanksgiving. Their parents had complained that Thanksgiving was a family holiday, but the younger generation stood firm when they’d decided to exercise a modicum of independence. The result was a livelier and unrestrained gathering with an ever-increasing number of children running around in abandon.

Arm in arm they left the restaurant and walked out into the brilliant late-spring Florida sunshine. Ana placed a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, Tyler following suit. “Where are you parked?”

He pointed to a late-model silver sedan. “I’m right here. Where are you parked?”

“I’m around on the other side.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“That’s all right.” Going on tiptoe, Ana pressed a kiss to Tyler’s cheek. “If I don’t see you before you go back to Mississippi I’ll definitely see you for Thanksgiving.”

Winding his arms around Ana’s waist, Tyler pulled her close. Dipping his head, he whispered in her ear. “Stay out of trouble.”

“What are you—” Her words stopped when a sharp sound pierced the humid air. Tyler’s arms fell away as he crumbled to the ground in slow-motion like fluttering confetti. All warmth fled from her body, replaced by an icy-coldness that wouldn’t permit Ana to move. It seemed like an eternity where it was only seconds before she was able to scream when she sank to the ground beside her cousin’s body. The screams kept coming until people in the parking lot raced over to see what the commotion was about.

Her eyes wide with fear and panic, Ana screamed, “Help me!” She cradled Tyler to her bosom, her white blouse stained red with the warm blood seeping from his chest wound. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. The wait seemed interminable, but off in the distance she heard the sound of wailing sirens.

“Let me have a look at him.”

She glanced up to find an elderly man kneeling beside her. Her brain refused to process what had just happened. How could someone shoot Tyler and she not see them? She hadn’t noticed anyone close to them in the parking lot. Ana tightened her hold on her cousin’s neck. “No.”

“Please, miss. I’m a doctor.”

“No!” She screamed again, this time when a pair of strong hands pulled her up and held her fast. Ana fought like a cat, crying and clawing, but she wasn’t able to free herself from the arms that held her like manacles.

Some of the fight went out of her, and she slumped against the wide chest of a man who towered above her by a full head. The wail of sirens came closer and closer and within minutes first responders and police officers filled the restaurant’s parking lot. She was barely coherent when she gave an officer the account of what she didn’t see.

Working quickly, the paramedics stabilized Tyler, placing him on a gurney as she stood numbly by. A crime-scene unit had arrived as Ana was helped into the rear of the ambulance. Reaching for Tyler’s hand, she closed her eyes and prayed.

* * *

Ana sat in the family room at her parents’ house, reacting like an automaton. She’d become a prisoner. Easygoing, laidback David Claridge Cole had turned into a tyrant, taking the keys to her car and condo, while declaring he had no intention of burying any of his children and if he had to shackle her to keep her from leaving, then he would. Ana knew her father was incensed because she hadn’t divulged the details of the negotiations to sign Justin Glover, and she’d argued because he was no longer involved with the day-to-day operation of the recording label she wasn’t obligated to apprise him of the proceedings.

And the media had exacerbated the situation when headlines blared about the attempted murder of a member of one of Florida’s most prominent families. An undisclosed source told a reporter at The Miami Herald about the alleged ongoing feud between Slow Wyne Records and Serenity Records, and that Dr. Tyler Cole unintentionally had become collateral damage. Ana prayed the source hadn’t come from Serenity, because all the employees had signed a confidentiality agreement as a condition to employment. And if not them, the rumors had to come from someone in the Slow Wyne camp.

Reporters had also attempted to interview Jason, but his ‘no comment’ left them searching for other leads. Basil Irvine did agree to be interviewed, stating emphatically that there was no bad blood between his L.A.-based company and Serenity. He did admit he’d wanted to sign Justin Glover, but conceded when the singing phenom said the music produced by Serenity was better-suited for his singing style and vocal range. His Cheshire cat grin and velvety smooth voice had Ana screaming at the television that he was lying; she was incensed because she wasn’t able to rebut his allegation.

It’d been three days since someone had gunned down Tyler and instead of fading, the image of her cradling him persisted. An unscheduled gathering of the family descended on West Palm Beach when the news hit that Tyler had become the victim of a possible sniper. Fortunately the bullet missed all major arteries; however, the wound was still serious enough for the attending physician to recommend he remain in the hospital for several days.

The police were able to find the spent round and a ballistics expert had identified it as military issue; surveillance feed from cameras outside the restaurant and several other buildings showed a figure in camouflage repelling down the side of an office building and speeding off on a motorcycle. The police were able to identify the make and model of the bike, but when the video was enhanced the Kawasaki was missing the license plate, leading them to believe either it was stolen or the plate was intentionally removed.

Ana had felt like a parrot, repeating the same thing over and over when interrogated by law enforcement officials. First it was the local police, then special agents from the FBI. The theory that the sniper was connected to the military was a cause for concern among family members. Particularly those who’d had military experience.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her head on them and closed her eyes. Why, she thought, did her parents insist on keeping their home so cool. “I’m freezing, Mom.”

Serena Morris-Cole stared at her daughter. She was shaking and it wasn’t from the air-cooled temperature but because she was still traumatized. “I’ll adjust the air and bring you a cup of hot tea.”

Ana’s head popped up. Her registered-nurse mother had divided her time between sitting at Tyler’s bedside and providing emotional support for Ana. “Thank you, Mom, but I can get my own tea.” Serena gave Ana a look she recognized immediately: do not argue with me. “Okay,” she conceded. It was as if all the fight had gone out of her when she’d never been one to back down from any confrontation.

David and Serena had raised their children to be free spirits in the tradition of 1970s hippies and Ana had become somewhat of a wild child. She was never one to turn down her brothers’ challenges and she preferred hanging out with them rather her architecture-historian sister who was the consummate girly-girl. For Ana it was baseball instead of cheerleading, shooting pool instead of ballet lessons. She’d earned an undergraduate degree in business and finance before enrolling in law school, with a focus on business law.

She’d taken control of Serenity Records once her father retired, while her twin brother, Jason, had become the label’s musical director and producer. She’d negotiated deals with artists who had served time for felonies, yet never at any time had she ever felt threatened or intimidated until now.

Ana didn’t want to believe Basil’s denial that there wasn’t bad blood between them, despite his too-sweet letter congratulating Serenity on Justin’s successful record launch. But the more she thought about it the more she felt it was retribution for signing up an artist the head of Slow Wyne coveted as if he were the Holy Grail.

A tentative smile parted her lips when Jason walked into the room. Ana patted the cushion beside her on the love seat. “Hang out with me for a while.” Fraternal twins, and older by fifteen minutes, Jason was her masculine counterpart. He was undeniably a Cole: tall, broad-shouldered, olive complexion, black curly hair, delicate features and dimples.

Extending his hand, Jason pulled her to stand. “Come with me.”

Walking on bare feet, Ana had to practically run to keep up with his longer stride. “Where are we going?”

Jason flashed a wolfish grin. “To my place.”

He was the only one of his parents’ four children who still lived at home. He had his own apartment in the expansive house and had access to an in-home recording studio. Although he was provided ultimate privacy, Jason refused to sleep with a woman under his parents’ roof. If his dates didn’t have their own place, then he entertained them at hotels.

Jason had surprised everyone once he’d announced that he’d bought property in Oregon near the Cascades where he’d built a sprawling house he dubbed Serenity West. It was where he spent months writing and recording music, and he made it a point to spend at least half the year there.

Ana followed Jason into the living/dining area and sat with him on a sofa covered with Haitian cotton. The seating arrangement faced a wall of pocket doors that overlooked the patio and inground pool.

Shifting, he turned to face his sister. “They’re making plans to send you away.”

Ana’s eyes widened until he could see the dark centers of the golden orbs. “Send me where?”

“Diego said he has a friend who is a U.S. Marshal. It appears the man has a house down in the Keys, and that he’s taken an extended vacation leave, so Diego asked him to look after you.”

“Look after me!” Ana’s voice had gone up several octaves. “What the hell do they think I am? I’m not a three-year-old that has to be looked after.”

Reaching out, Jason caught her shoulders and pressed his forehead to his twin’s. “Calm down, Ana.”

“Calm down! Would you be calm if someone decided to send you away against your will?”

His eyes, so much like Ana’s, bore into hers. “I would if my life depended upon it.”

There was something in her brother’s voice and expression that made her pause. “What is it, Jay?” she asked, using her pet name for him.

Jason closed his eyes, a fringe of long, thick black lashes touching high cheekbones. “That bullet was meant for you.”

She went still, nothing moving as Ana held her breath. “How do you know that?” she whispered once she exhaled.

He patted his chest over his heart. “I feel it here.”

People had always asked them as twins if one felt when the other was in danger, and the answer was yes. And even before he’d gotten the phone call that Tyler was with Ana when he’d been shot, Jason had known something was wrong. He’d been in the studio editing a song when he’d suddenly felt as if someone or something had squeezed his heart, making breathing difficult. He’d called Ana’s cell phone at the same time she was calling him, and he was at the hospital minutes before Tyler was wheeled into the E.R.

Ana’s eyes filled with tears as she slumped against Jason, who was rubbing her back in a comforting gesture. She could admit unequivocally that she trusted her twin more than anyone. They shared a special bond that gave them the ability to complete one another’s sentences and know when the other felt joy or sadness.

“You’re saying I should go?”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t fight Mom and Dad on this.”

She eased back. “What about you, Jay? You’re also Serenity Records.”

He shook his head. “Not like you, Ana. You’re front and center, while I work behind the scene. You negotiate the contracts and handle all the legal entanglements. I know that bullet was meant for you.”

“I go away for a couple of weeks, then what? What if the police don’t catch the person who shot Tyler?”

“The police have made this case a priority. They’re going to find the shooter.”

“What if they don’t?” she asked again.

“Dad and Uncle Martin have contacted a P.I. firm who employ ex-military and law enforcement. They have their own methods of uncovering details the police may overlook.”

Ana ran her fingers through her short hair. “What about Serenity?”

Jason gave her a long stare. “It’s not going to implode because you’re not there. I may not be familiar with all the legalese, but I do have an MBA. I believe that qualifies me to know a little about running a business.”

Pinpoints of heat stung Ana’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply it would fall apart without me, Jason.”

He ruffled her hair as he’d done when she was a little girl. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Ana sucked in a lungful of air, held it and then exhaled slowly. “It’s not going to be all right until they catch the person who shot Tyler.”

There was a light knock on the door and Jason and Ana turned to find Diego Cole-Thomas standing in the open doorway. Folding his arms over his chest, the head of ColeDiz International, Ltd. leaned against the frame. People who saw photographs of Samuel Cole usually did a double-take whenever they looked at Diego. He was his great-grandfather’s clone. Not only did he look like the man who’d amassed a fortune growing tobacco, bananas and coffee, but his approach to business was similar.

“Did you tell her?” Diego asked.

Ana pushed off the sofa and approached her cousin. “Why are you talking about me as if I wasn’t here, Diego? And yes, Jason did tell me.” She tilted her chin, staring up at Diego staring down at her. “Where exactly in the Keys am I going and who’s going to babysit me?”

Diego flashed a rare smile, transforming his stoic expression. “His name is Jacob Jones, he lives on Long Key and he’s not too pleased that he has to babysit you, but he’s willing to do it as a favor to me. As soon as you pack enough to last you a couple of weeks I’ll fly down with you. Jacob will meet us at the Marathon airport.”

Ana’s stomach did a flip-flop. “You want me to leave now?”

“Yes. That’s what your folks want.”

She wanted to ask him if what she wanted figured into the equation. Ana knew she definitely would’ve rejected anyone’s suggestion she go into hiding if Jason hadn’t voiced his fear that her life was in danger. “What time is liftoff?”

“Three.”

Ana took a quick glance at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. She felt like crying, but refused to let her brother and cousin see her break down. She knew her family wanted her safe as much as she wanted to live. At thirty-three she had her whole life ahead of her. And like her sister Alexandra she wanted to fall in love, marry and have children. She wanted what most normal women wanted, but there was someone out there who’d decided they wanted her dead.

“Do I have time to see Tyler before I leave?”

Diego nodded. “I’ll call the pilot and have him delay takeoff.”

Ana knew they were flying down in the corporate jet, so she didn’t have to concern herself with going through airport-security checkpoints. “I guess I better go and pack.”

She walked past Diego and out of Jason’s apartment and into the one that she’d occupied for years. The studio apartment rental and her condo had wonderful ocean views but lacked adequate closet space, so she’d stored most of her clothes in her parents’ house. When she entered her bedroom Ana saw her mother sitting on a cushioned rocker. The strain of the past three days was etched around Serena’s mouth.

Ana closed her eyes and when she reopened them she saw tears making their way slowly down her mother’s face. “I don’t want to go.”

Serena stood up. “But you have to go, baby. And you have to stay away until we settle this.”

She took a step, then another until she hugged her mother so tightly both struggled to breathe. “Will you help me pack, Mama?”

Serena nodded, unable to speak because of the constriction in her throat. It had been years since her wild child had called her Mama. Reaching into a pocket of her slacks, she took out a tissue and blotted her face. She kissed Ana’s cheek. “We’re going to get through this. It’s not the first time we’ve had a family crisis and it probably won’t be the last. Your father, uncles and the other men in this family will make certain nothing will happen to you. They always protect their own.”

Ana held her mother as if she were her a lifeline. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she was going into exile without a hint of when she would return. Diego had mentioned she should pack enough for a couple of weeks, yet something told her it would be longer. She was leaving everything that was familiar to live with a stranger who’d assured Diego that he would protect her. She had to believe him or whoever wanted her dead would determine her destiny.

No permita que nadie le defina ni determine su destino. It was as if Marguerite-Joséfina Isabel Diaz-Cole was in the room whispering in her ear. Her grandmother had always cautioned her not to let anyone define her or to determine her destiny. Ana’s grandmother had been born during a time when women had little or no rights, and even less when it came to selecting a husband. Cuban-born M.J. had defied her father, married an American and left the country of her birth to become the matriarch of a dynasty. Ana kissed her mother again.

“I’m ready, Mom.” And she was ready to do whatever she needed to do so she could live her life without having to look over her shoulder.

Chapter 2

Los Angeles

Basil Irvine pounded a fist into his open palm when he really felt like punching the wall. Perhaps the pain would help him forget the debacle that resulted in Tyler Cole being shot instead of Ana.

Turning a menacing glare on his brother, he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I get for sending a boy to do a man’s job.”

A feral grin spread over Webb Irvine’s scarred face. “Do you want to hear I told you so?”

Basil’s gray eyes glittered like chipped ice. “If it will make you feel better, then say it.”

Like quicksilver the smile faded and Webb peered down at the toes of his spit-shined shoes. “I’m not going to say it because it’s not going to change anything. I told you that I’d take care of the bitch, but you wanted to do it your way.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you involved. You just got out of jail—”

Webb waved a hand as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Don’t worry about me going back to jail. That’s not going to happen.”

“I still don’t want you involved in this.”

Basil stared at his younger brother. They looked nothing alike, but blood ran deep between them. He’d stomped a man to death for stealing from him, and it was Webb who’d confessed to the crime. Webb, only fifteen at the time, was tried as an adult, and pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter; he spent three years in a juvenile facility before being transferred to minimum-security prison for the next ten years. Webb earned a high school diploma and, once paroled, he’d enrolled in college and had graduated with a degree in computer science.

“I won’t be involved,” Webb said softly. “I know someone who would be perfect for this project.”

Basil sat down on a leather love seat, knees spread apart. Webb was the epitome of a successful businessman with his conservative haircut, tailored suit, custom-made shirt, silk tie and imported footwear. He’d repaid his brother ten-fold when he’d given him enough money to start up his own security company that created and sold state-of-the art surveillance equipment.

“Let me think about it. My man said he’s going to wait a while before he begins hunting again.”

The dark brown eyes in an equally dark face flattened. “Do you have an idea who told that reporter that you had threatened Ana Cole?”

Basil shook his head. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t tell Webb.

Webb pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “What if it was someone from Slow Wyne?”

“I doubt that.”

“Are you sure, brother?”

Running a hand over his shaved head, Basil chuckled under his breath. “I’m willing to bet our mama’s life on it.”

“Intimidation doesn’t work on everyone.”

Leaning lower, Basil rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s only one person who knows what went down when I was trying to get Justin Glover to sign with Slow Wyne, and that is Omar Thornton.”

“Watch him, Basil.”

“Omar is trustworthy.”

“I can find out how trustworthy he is if you let me bug his house.”

Basil sat up straight. “What the hell are you saying, Webb?”

“Send him away on a business trip for a few days and my people will bug his house and phones. After a while you’ll discover how trustworthy he is.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“I am careful and thorough, Basil. I’m just trying to protect your reputation. I didn’t do a bid for you to screw up because you’re pissed off at a little girl who managed to get the best of you.”

“She is not a little girl,” Basil said between clenched teeth. “She’s a shark masquerading as a piranha.”

Throwing back his head, Webb laughed loudly. He sobered when he saw Basil’s expression. “Do you want Justin Glover?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I want him.”

“I can get him for you, big brother.”

The buzz of the intercom preempted Basil’s reply. “Excuse me, but I have to get that.” He stood up, walked over to his desk and punched a button on the telephone console. “Yes, Camille.”

“Mr. Edwards’s secretary just called to say he’s on his way.”

“Thanks.” When he turned around Basil realized he was alone. Webb had left. He didn’t want his brother to do anything that could send him back to jail. The person he’d hired to kill Ana Cole had shot the wrong Cole. However, the hired gun vowed Ana Cole was as good as dead.

* * *

Jacob Jones maneuvered up to curbside at the Marathon airport, showed his shield and photo ID to the man who came over to the driver’s side window. The officer’s eyes shifted from the official photograph to the man with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He took a step closer, glancing into the open window to see the holstered automatic weapon where his right hand rested on his thigh.

“I’m on the job,” Jacob explained. “My party is on the ground and should be here in a few minutes,” he said to the police officer. What he wanted to tell the man was that he wasn’t officially on the job, but what he had agreed to do was akin to witness protection. The difference was Ana Cole wasn’t a witness to a crime, but the intended target of a sniper with possible ties to the military.

“No problem, Marshal Jones. You have a good afternoon.”

Jacob smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

When he’d gotten up earlier that morning he never would’ve expected a call from Diego Cole-Thomas asking whether he’d be willing to protect his cousin. It was the second day of a well-deserved eight-week vacation and Jacob planned to do nothing more than sleep late, fish, cook his catch and view several new movies in his extensive DVD collection.

Diego had also filled him in on the details of the shooting that had put Dr. Tyler Cole in the hospital with a chest wound. He wanted to refuse his friend’s request, but couldn’t because he was godfather to Diego’s son.

He also wasn’t looking forward to sharing his home with any woman. Whenever a woman crossed his threshold their stay was usually limited to a few days. One had been fortunate to stay for an extended two weeks, but anything beyond that had him formulating excuses to prepare them for their departure.

The week before he’d received an official memo mandating he take a vacation. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually taken time off just to kick back and relax. He’d bought the house in Long Key as a retreat, a sort of safe haven where he could go and forget about the prisoners housed in the Miami federal detention centers. He’d been promoted from the field to a desk position and it wasn’t until he walked out of his office and drove south to the Keys had he realized how much he did need a vacation.

He spied Diego coming out of the terminal, his driver and bodyguard pushing a cart with designer luggage. His gaze shifted to the woman holding Diego’s hand, recognizing her immediately. The first time he saw Ana was at Diego and Vivienne Neal’s wedding, and then again at the baptism celebration for their son. It was apparent she and the man who’d come with her to the celebration following the baptism hadn’t been seeing eye-to-eye because Ana had refused to talk to or even look at him.

There was something about the expression on the petite dark-haired woman’s face that communicated to Jacob that she hadn’t come willingly. Well, he thought, as he got out of his vehicle, the feeling was definitely mutual. He wanted to dictate where and how he wanted to spend the next two months of his life without having to consider another person. But, he’d promised his friend he would look after his cousin, and for Jacob, if he gave his word then he always followed through.

Adjusting the hem of the Hawaiian-print shirt to conceal the firearm, he walked over to Diego, who’d released Ana’s hand. They shook hands and pounded each other’s backs in a rough hug. He hadn’t seen the CEO of ColeDiz in more than three months, and the first thing he noticed was he’d claimed a bit more gray hair.

“How’s it going, buddy?”

“It’s all good,” Diego answered.

“How’s the family?”

“They’re good. Vivienne’s been asking about you.”

“I’d planned to take a few days off and come up to see you guys, but that was before you called me.”

Diego put his arm around Ana’s waist. “Ana, do you remember Jacob? He came to my wedding and the baptism.”

She stared at the tall man in the gaudy shirt and tattered Miami Dolphins cap. Her gaze went from his face down to his jeans and worn sandals before reversing to linger on his face. He wasn’t what she would consider handsome; nonetheless he was attractive in a masculine sort of way despite his tacky shirt and ragged hat. His dark eyes in a face the color of golden-brown autumn leaves were mesmerizing.

“Yes, I do remember him.”

What she meant was she’d remembered him from the baptism, but not the wedding. Then he’d worn a tailored suit and shoes. But that was all she’d recalled because the man who’d come with her to the soiree that followed the sacrament at the church had made it his intent to put pressure on her to take their friendship to the next level. What he hadn’t realized was that there was no next level, but that hadn’t stopped him from reacting like a spoiled child when she’d told him it was to become their last date.

Jacob extended his hand, palm up. “And I remember you.” He wasn’t disappointed when she placed her tiny hand on his, he giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before he released them. He nodded to the taciturn driver/bodyguard who’d removed his sunglasses and wiped his face and sable-brown shaved head with a snow-white handkerchief. Despite the heat Henri wore a black suit, tie and white shirt. He hadn’t removed his jacket, and Jacob knew the man always carried a concealed handgun whenever he traveled with Diego.

“Hello, Henri.”

“Mr. Jones.”

Pressing a button on the fob to the Jeep, the hatch lifted as Henri carried Ana’s bags to the SUV, then returned to assist her up onto the passenger seat. “I’ll take good care of her,” Jacob promised Diego.

“I know you will.” He leaned closer. “She’s not too happy about this.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Diego’s eyebrows lifted as he stared at his cousin sitting in the vehicle. She was so still she could’ve been made of stone. “I’ll call you with updates.”

“I hope it won’t take too long to catch the bastard. By the way, how’s Tyler?”

“He’ll be released tomorrow. He’s going to stay in West Palm until he’s cleared to fly. His wife and children are here, so there’s no need for him to worry about rushing back to Mississippi.”

Jacob rested a hand on Diego’s shoulder. “I know you have your people on this, but tell them to concentrate on rogue professional snipers, former-military or even SWAT.”

“We’re going to find him, Jacob, and hopefully there’ll be something left to prosecute.” Diego saw Henri tap the face of his watch out of the corner of his eye. “I have to leave because we’ve been cleared for takeoff. I’ll call you later on in the week to check on Ana.”

Jacob smiled. “Have a safe flight.” He knew as soon as the wheels were up that within minutes the Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation G550 would prepare to touchdown in West Palm Beach.

Turning on his heels, he walked to the Jeep and slid in behind the wheel next to Ana. The hauntingly sensual, subtle scent of perfume filled the interior of the vehicle. Sitting less than a foot away from her made him aware of things he hadn’t noticed or had forgotten the last time they’d met.

He’d thought she was taller, her body fuller. And he’d remembered her hair was longer than it was now. However, the pixie hairstyle was perfect for her face, showing off her exquisite bone structure. “Do you have a cell phone on you?”

Ana turned to look at Jacob, her gaze fixed on the shape of his mouth. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but he had the sexiest mouth of any man she’d ever seen. The top lip was firm, the lower fuller, sensual. “Yes. Why?”

He held out his right hand. “Please give it to me.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“I’ll tell you after you give it to me.”

Reaching into her leather handbag, she took out the BlackBerry, placing it on his outstretched palm. “Now tell me.”

“You are not to use your cell as long as you’re here. If you need to make a call, then you can use the one in my house or my cell. Are you carrying any credit cards?”

Ana blinked as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. There was no doubt Jacob wanted her to turn her credit cards over to him. “Yes. I suppose you want those, too.”

“I do.”

She gave him the case with her cards. “What if I need to buy something?”

A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Jacob’s mouth. “I don’t know what that could be, because it appears as if you brought your entire wardrobe.” The back of the truck was filled with at least half a dozen bags. Her eyes narrowed, reminding him of a cat’s.

“I wasn’t talking about clothes, Mr. Jones.” She’d spat out his name.

“It’s either Jake or Jacob. The choice is yours.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Jacob. What if I need to buy something?” Ana asked again.

“I’ll buy it for you.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Your father can reimburse me when this is over.”

“And I hope that’s real soon,” she said under her breath, “and I will reimburse you, not my father. He stopped paying my bills years ago.” She’d come into her trust at twenty-five and therefore had become independently wealthy.

Jacob saw the stubborn set of her delicate jaw. “This isn’t a walk in the park for me, either. When I put in for vacation I didn’t expect to share it with someone who didn’t want to share it with me.”

Shifting on the leather seat, Ana gave him a lengthy stare. “I’m sorry if the attempt on my life threw a monkey wrench into your plans. And tell your girlfriend that I’ll give her a gift card so she can buy something real nice to compensate for me taking up her boyfriend’s time.”

Throwing back his head, Jacob laughed loudly, the sound reverberating inside the SUV. “Do you really believe that all you have to do is write a check and make it okay? Money isn’t the cure-all for everything in one’s life,” he added.

“Are you telling me your girlfriend would refuse a no-strings-attached gift?”

“I’m certain she would if I had a girlfriend. I happen not to like women who are fixated on money, because as a government worker I’ll never make the Forbes list of the wealthiest people in America.”

Punching the Start Engine button, Jacob signaled and then smoothly maneuvered away from the curb. Reaching for the sunglasses on the console, he placed them on the bridge of his nose as he followed the signs for the airport exit.

“You didn’t answer my question, Jacob,” Ana said when he headed north.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you take my phone and credit cards?”

“The plan is for you to disappear.”

Her eyes were wide behind the lenses of her oversize sunglasses. “Like in the Witness Protection Program?”

Jacob nodded. “Exactly. And you’re not to use the internet. Without your cell and credit cards it will make it difficult for someone to track your whereabouts. It will be the same with your car parked in the reserved spot at your condo. Even if someone decided to fit it with a tracking device they’ll be disappointed because it won’t be moved for weeks.”

“I live in a gated community.”

“That may be a slight deterrent, but it’s still penetrable. What makes you think your condo’s security can’t be compromised?”

She exhaled a soft breath. “I didn’t think of that.” A comfortable silence ensued, Ana staring through the windshield at the Atlantic Ocean on the right of the highway and the Gulf on the left. “And you think I’ll be safe here in the Keys?”

Jacob took a quick glance at the woman who unknowingly had set into motion a private war that was certain to end in casualties, while he’d pledged Diego that his cousin would not become one of the victims. “You’ll be safe with me.”

“You sound very confident, Jacob.”

He smiled, exhibiting a mouth filled with straight white teeth. “I am not a neophyte when it comes to protecting witnesses.”

“I’m not a witness, because I didn’t see who shot Tyler,” Ana argued in a quiet voice. “One minute I was standing talking to him, and then the next second he was on the ground bleeding from a chest wound.”

“Tyler’s lucky that bullet didn’t hit an artery otherwise his wife would’ve found herself a widow and her children fatherless.”

Ana closed her eyes as if to shut out the scene that continued to haunt her. “His wife is five months pregnant with their fourth child.”

Jacob didn’t tell Ana that the shooter had probably worked alone, but if he’d had a spotter, then she wouldn’t be sitting next to him. He wasn’t certain whether something had spooked the sniper or he felt he had to get off the shot or lose his target, but destiny had determined that his target would get a reprieve.

“My dad hired some people to try to find whoever shot Tyler. Do you think they’ll catch who’s behind it?”

“I’d like to believe they’ll find him.”

It was the first time Jacob heard a modicum of fear in Ana’s voice. He didn’t want to believe that she didn’t know that the Coles would spend every dollar of their vast wealth to keep her safe. He’d agreed to look after her because of his close bond with Diego. It wouldn’t be the first time he would step in to help the Coles. At Diego’s request he’d helped Vivienne Neal uncover who had been responsible for her husband’s hit-and-run. His involvement in solving the conspiracy that led to the death of the U.S. representative was instrumental when he was recommended for a promotion as an assistant director of the Miami-based federal detention center.

Diego married Vivienne and they had asked him to become godfather to their son whom they named Samuel Jacob Cole-Thomas. Although they lived in the same state, he didn’t get to see his friends as much as he would’ve liked. Oversight of staff to supervise the U.S. Marshal Service at four Miami federal detention centers left him little time to socialize. It was only when the mandate came down that he had to take at least two months of his accrued vacation leave or he would lose it had he become aware that his career had taken over his life.

Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a normal relationship with a woman, at least one that lasted more than a few months, because they were no longer a priority whenever he was directed to search for a fugitive or assigned to witness protection. At first he’d come to regret sitting behind a desk, because he’d missed the adrenalin rush of being in the field, but after a while he’d come to appreciate a measure of normalcy when he wasn’t on the job 24/7, or on an assignment that took him away from home for weeks, or on occasion months.

Ana had asked if she was safe with him and he hadn’t lied to her when he said yes. No one he worked with knew he had a house in the Keys. Some of them had been to the renovated apartment he rented near downtown Miami whenever they got together to view a game, but on a whole most of his coworkers knew him to be a very private person. Even when some of the single guys got together socially they never saw him with the same woman more than twice.

Jacob didn’t know why he wasn’t able to form a lasting relationship with a woman because it hadn’t been that way with his parents. Theirs had been a fairy-tale love affair when at the age of seventeen his father had spied the woman he would eventually marry. The pretty girl had been a cheerleader for the opposing football team. He took her to his prom and he was her date for hers, sparking a lot of controversy that she was dating the running back from their rival team.

“What made you decide to live in Long Key rather than Key West?”

Ana’s query pulled Jacob from his musings. “Key West is too crowded and touristy. Long Key is more for those looking for laid-back solitude.” He gave her a quick glance. “Have you ever been to the Keys?”

Ana gave Jacob a spontaneous smile for the first time. “When I was sixteen I’d decided to leave home. Destination: Key West. I’d accelerated in high school, graduating a year ahead of my peers and I was ambivalent about going to college. I’d read about Ernest Hemingway living in Key West, and I was always drawn to the bohemian lifestyle.”

“How were you planning to support yourself?”

“I’d closed out my bank account, and I figured if I lived frugally then it would’ve lasted me until I took control of my trust.”

“How long was that going to take?”

Ana turned her head to stare out the side window. “Nine years.”

“At sixteen you’d saved enough money to last you for nine years?”

A smile softened her mouth. “At sixteen I’d believed I could live on five thousand dollars for nine years. What did I know about money? All I knew was when I asked for it to buy something, I got it. I loaded up my car and took off in the middle of the night. I got as far as Miami before the police pulled me over.”

“Were you speeding?”

“No. They told me the car had been reported stolen.”

“Should I assume the car was in your father’s name?” Jacob asked as he struggled not to laugh.

“It was. The police held me until Daddy arrived. What he didn’t say frightened me more than if he’d gone off on me. He refused to talk to me, then loaded my bags in his car and arranged to have my car driven back to Boca Raton. I didn’t get to see that car again until it was time for me to go to college. Having my dad, whom I adore, not talk to me for weeks cured me of wanting to live in Key West.”

“What made you decide to strike out on your own?”

“It had to be impulsivity or a temporary lapse of common sense. When Daddy finally did talk to me he said that if I’d wanted to go off and see the world, then he would’ve hired a chaperone to accompany me wherever I wanted to go. The fact that I didn’t trust him enough to tell him of my plan hurt him more than I could’ve imagined. He reminded me of that when the rumor about bad blood between Serenity and Slow Wyne was made public.”

“You didn’t tell him about what went down between you and Basil Irvine?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if my father hadn’t thought I was capable enough to run the company, then he wouldn’t have relinquished control once he decided to retire. Would you have asked my brother that question if he were CEO?”

A frown settled into Jacob’s features. “It’s not about gender, Ana.”

“Then what is it about?” she asked, her voice rising in annoyance.

There was only the sound of the slip-slap of rubber on the roadway as he drove onto the Long Key Channel. “It’s about trust and respect,” Jacob said softly. “It couldn’t have been easy for your dad to start up a new record label when he had to compete with legendary giants like Atlantic, Capitol, Sony, Epic and RCA. Nowadays you have to go head-to-head with Virgin, Interscope, Slow Wyne and Island Records Def Jam and Roc-A-Fella. The genre and players may have changed, but the business is still the same.”

“How do you know so much about record companies?” There was no mistaking the awe in her tone.

“I read a lot,” Jacob said glibly. “I need you to answer one question for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you feuding with Basil Irvine?”

“No. Basil has been in business long enough to know he can’t win every negotiation. Justin Glover isn’t the first artist he’s failed to sign to his label and I’m certain he won’t be the last. I’ve lost count of the number of performers we’ve lost to other labels for one reason or another. I just suck it up and move on.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re a gracious loser. I don’t like to keep bringing up gender, but you have to remember you’re a woman, so someone with an ego like Irvine’s isn’t going to accept defeat as graciously from a woman as he would from a man.”

Ana knew Jacob was right about her gender when it came to Basil, but she wasn’t about to admit that openly. Basil had earned a reputation as an astute and aggressive businessman, and despite his reputation as a misogynist women still fell over themselves to be seen with him.

Jacob turned off onto Royce Creek Drive, driving a short distance before pulling into the driveway of a two-story house. Maneuvering under a carport, he lowered the windows, and then cut off the engine. He rested a hand on Ana’s shoulder. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Unbuckling her seat belt, she shifted on the seat in an attempt to take in her surroundings. One side of Jacob’s house overlooked a canal with direct access to the Atlantic Ocean. Ana smiled when she thought of waking up to water views. Her favorite pastime was sitting on her condo’s balcony at sunset drinking a chai latte. It was as if all the stress of the day faded as the sun sank lower in the horizon before disappearing and leaving the darkening sky with splashes of red and orange.

She didn’t have to wait long. Jacob returned, sans the hat he should’ve discarded a long time ago. To say he wasn’t into fashion was an understatement. She did recall him wearing a suit to the baptism, but that was expected because it was held in a church. What she couldn’t remember was him being at Diego’s wedding.

Ana stared, her eyes becoming wider behind her glasses as Jacob came closer. Without the hat she was able see all of his face. Her gaze lingered on the elegant ridge of his cheekbones before moving down to his sensual, masculine mouth. She found her protector to be genuinely handsome, and she could not imagine why he didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend. The only alternative was that he wasn’t into women. That would have been devastating because he was the epitome of masculinity. His cropped black hair, tall, broad-shouldered physique, lithe stride and soothing, modulated deep voice should have drawn women to him like moths to a flame.

Jacob opened the passenger-side door and extended his arms. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Ana found herself cradled to his hard chest before he slowly lowered her feet to the ground. “You can go in now and look around while I bring in your bags.”

She walked in through the side door, finding herself in a space that doubled as a pantry, laundry room and a place where Jacob had stored tool boxes, fishing rods and other boating equipment. A trio of bright orange life vests hung from hooks on the wall along with two racing bikes suspended from a rack. She then entered an all-white state-of-the-art kitchen. Beyond the kitchen was a living/dining room with a vaulted ceiling. A curving black wrought-iron staircase led to a loft. All of the floors on the first level were gleaming black slate, a shocking contrast to the lighter colored furnishings.

The house was airy, filled with an abundance of light, and spotless, and Ana wondered perhaps if Jacob employed a cleaning service. Ceiling fans in the living and dining rooms turned on at the lowest speed, dispelled the build-up of heat. She heard barking and went to investigate. She’d grown up with a menagerie of pets, but the condo where she now lived did not allow pets of any kind.

Making her way to the back of the house, she stared through French doors at a magnificent German shepherd locked in a large crate under a black-and-white-striped awning. She’d just unlocked the doors and opened them when Jacob’s command stopped her.

“Don’t go near him!”

She turned, seeing the frown between his eyes. “Why not?”

“He’ll hurt you.”

Ana froze. “What do you mean he’ll hurt me?”

“If he doesn’t know you, he’ll attack.”

She blinked once. “Why would you want to keep a dog like that around?”

Jacob shifted her bags under his arms. “He doesn’t belong to me. I’m watching him for a friend who went on a fishing trip.”

“Is that why you keep him locked up?”

“I only put him in the crate because you’re here.”

“You can’t keep him caged just because I’m here, Jacob. That’s cruel.”

“After he gets used to your scent you’ll be all right.”

“How long will that take?” she asked.

“It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”

“That’s two days too long.”

Jacob’s frown deepened. “What do you want me to do? Open the cage and when he goes for your throat shoot him?”

Ana felt her temper rising and counted slowly to herself. She didn’t want to say something that she would later come to regret. “No. I don’t want you to shoot him.”

“If that’s the case, then please let me handle this situation my way. As a matter of fact every decision I’ll make for as long as you’ll reside here will be to protect you. If you decide to challenge me, then I’ll call Diego and have him take you to Brazil.”

The seconds ticked as she stared at him. “Why are you mentioning Brazil?” she asked, whispering.

“That’s where you were headed if I hadn’t offered to let you stay with me. What’s the matter?” Jacob taunted. “Cat got your tongue?”

Clenching her teeth, seething with anger, Ana stiffened as if she’d been struck across the face. It had been less than an hour since the jet had touched down in the Keys and she knew it wasn’t going to be easy sharing a roof with Jacob. And she had no idea that her family had considered sending her to stay with her cousin Regina Cole-Spencer.

Ana had been to Salvador da Bahia for Carnivale. Regina and her husband, pediatric-microbiologist Aaron Spencer, lived on a coffee plantation in the middle of what looked like a jungle. After partying nonstop for days, she’d return to their beautiful estate, collapsing in exhaustion until it was time to return to the States. She didn’t think she would survive living in Bahia for an extended visit. Although she spoke fluent Spanish, there was a lot of Portuguese that she did not understand.

“Can you please show me to my room?” She wasn’t going to give Jacob the satisfaction of acknowledging that he’d won.

“I take it you’re staying and you’re also willing to follow my orders?”

She lifted her chin and met his eyes with a smile that did not quite reach hers. “Yes, it does.”

Jacob chuckled under his breath. “I thought you’d see it my way.” He headed toward the staircase, leaving her to follow. “I fired the maid and that means you’ll have to make your bed, do your own laundry and pick up after yourself.”

Ana stared at the bright green leaves on his black-and-yellow shirt. “I don’t know how to do laundry.”

He stopped on the landing, staring at her in shock. “Who does your laundry?”

“I send it out. I call concierge and arrange for it to be picked up.”

Jacob shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Can you at least clean?”

She gave him a look of unadulterated innocence. “No.”

“I suppose you have a cleaning service?” She nodded. “What do you know how to do?”

Her expression brightened. “I can cook. Very well,” Ana added when he gave her a skeptical look. “My parents were both raised with household help who cleaned and did laundry. However, both know how to cook. My mother’s skills are exceptional and she taught all her children to cook so they wouldn’t have to rely on someone to feed them.”

“Okay,” he drawled after a pause. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” she asked.

“I’ll clean and do laundry while you cook.”

“Who cleans now?”

He smiled. “I do. I don’t like strangers in my home. Come, Princess. Let’s get you settled. And because it’s the first night at the Jones motel I’ll do the cooking.”

Ana followed Jacob into a large sun-filled room with white furniture. The pristine color was offset by pillows, seat cushions and the bed dressing in tropical colors of peach, orange and kiwi-green. She knew instinctually that a woman had decorated Jacob’s house, because it claimed a soft touch and everything was chosen with a discerning eye for the climate and locale.

“Do I have time to take a shower and change into something cooler?” She had to get out of the jeans and T-shirt she’d hastily thrown on when Diego told her she was leaving Boca Raton.

“Sure,” Jacob replied. “The bathroom is the door on the right. The walk-in closet is to the left. I’ll bring your other bags up and leave them outside the door.”

“What’s for dinner?” she asked when he turned to leave.

“It’s a surprise,” he answered.

And you’re quite the surprise, Ana mused. She didn’t know what to expect when told she would have a U.S. Marshal protecting her, but she hadn’t expected someone whose moods ran hot and cold as if flipping a switch. He laughed, frowned, joked and then had become deadly serious when he talked about shooting the dog.

He’d barked commands like a drill sergeant, expecting her follow them without question. Well, she would do his bidding and when the time came for her to return to Boca Raton she would do so without a backward glance.

“How do you know if I don’t have food allergies?”

“Diego told me you didn’t have any. I know everything about you, Ana Juanita Cole, so let’s try and cooperate with each other, and I’ll try and make your stay a pleasant one because that’s what I promised your cousin. I’ll see you later.”

Ana stared at the spot where Jacob had been after he’d left the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. She smiled. He’d said cooperate and she would, because she would make certain to limit their direct contact to meals. Not only had she packed enough clothes to last a month. She had also packed a number of books from her to-be-read list. When Jason had given her a tablet for Christmas he’d downloaded it with all of her favorite titles, and she was figuratively in hog heaven. However, she only used the electronic device when on vacation. Reclining on the beach under an umbrella, reading and sipping a potent concoction had become her guilty pleasure.

Living with Jacob until the person who’d attempted to kill her was apprehended was not what she deemed a vacation. Instead of bringing the tablet, Ana had decided holding a book would send a signal to Jacob that she didn’t want to be bothered or disturbed.

What she didn’t want to believe was that her life was now on hold because some maniac had taken out a hit on her. She’d stopped at the hospital to see Tyler, and Ana couldn’t believe that he could joke that the Coles were tough men and it would take more than a high-powered bullet to take them out. He’d laughed when she’d wanted to cry.

In two weeks she was to go on vacation with several of her college friends. They’d arranged to charter a sloop, using it as their hotel, and sail down to Puerto Rico for ten days of complete hedonism. However, they would have to go without her while she was on what amounted to house arrest in the Florida Keys.

Chapter 3

Jacob carried the last two bags up the staircase, leaving them outside the door as promised. He hadn’t lied to Ana when he said he knew about her. Diego had given him particulars on her, while confirming assertions that she was more than formidable as the head of the record company. Many of the clients preferred dealing with Jason because of his low-key, relaxed demeanor, whereas Ana’s in-your-face approach was a lot more intimidating. His friend had also confided that he’d asked Ana to come to work for the family-owned import/export, real estate conglomerate, but she’d declined, saying she preferred the ongoing excitement and changes within the music industry.

And Jacob wasn’t fooled by her willingness to follow his demands. Ana was used to giving orders, not taking them, and that meant he couldn’t afford to let down his guard when interacting with her. Fortunately there was enough room in the two-story house where they wouldn’t have to bump into each other at every turn. Ana would have the run of the entire second floor because he planned to sleep in the alcove off the family room at the rear of the house. The small but cozy space also contained a half bath that was just a little more than a water closet. There was just enough space for a shower and commode. Once Jacob had decided to utilize the alcove, he’d purchased a queen-size storage bed with drawer space for linens and several changes of clothes.

He wasn’t too concerned about break-ins because the property was monitored by surveillance cameras. And like Ana, he hoped the shooter would be caught sooner rather than later. The longer the perpetrator was on the loose the lower the odds of capturing him.

Returning to the kitchen, Jacob stored his holstered handgun in a drawer under the island countertop, then opened the refrigerator and removed a labeled package of fish filets he’d taken out of the freezer before leaving for the airport. After he’d closed up his Miami apartment he’d driven to a local supermarket to buy enough food to stock the pantry and refrigerator for at least two weeks. He’d planned to alternate cooking for himself and dining in some of his favorite restaurants in the Keys. That was before he’d gotten the call from Diego.

Jacob still had to decide how much he wanted to expose Ana to the public because he wanted her to keep a low profile. Confining her to the house was certain to push both of them over the edge. And if they did go out, then a hat and sunglasses for her would be the norm rather than the exception.

A smile parted his lips when he recalled her saying she’d planned to run away from home to live in Key West. He didn’t live in Key West, but it was close enough for him to drive her there to show her some of the historic cottages and restored century-old Conch houses. With the influx of tourists mingling with the locals they were certain to blend in enough to enjoy the nightlife.

Over the next forty minutes he busied himself uncovering the deck furniture, hosing down the deck, and then opened several umbrellas, positioning one near the table and the other two behind cushioned recliners. Jacob tried, but he was unsuccessful in erasing the image of Ana’s eyes whenever she gave him a direct stare. There was something about her eyes that reflected a boldness and wisdom that made him believe she was much older than thirty-three. Perhaps, he mused, it was the role she’d taken on as CEO of a very successful recording label. If she had been any woman other than David Cole’s daughter she never would’ve been able to achieve the business success Ana had accomplished since she’d assumed control of Serenity Records. Jacob smiled. Her father had taught her well. He checked on the large dog in the crate that lifted his head from between his paws with his approach.

Bending slightly, he said, “Don’t worry, boy. I hope to have you out of there sometime tomorrow.”

Jacob had removed the fish from the packaging and had placed them in a bowl of cold water when the soft chiming of the telephone garnered his attention. He punched the speaker feature on the wall phone before the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Jacob. It’s your mother.”

“How are you, Mrs. Deavers?”

There was a slight pause before Gloria Deavers’s soft voice came through the speaker. “Why are you so formal?”

Resting a hip against the countertop, Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the skylight in the kitchen. “You are Mrs. Deavers, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been married to Henry for almost fifteen years, and yet you still haven’t let me forget it.”

“Mom, I know you didn’t call me to talk about your husband.”

“You’re right. I called because when I contacted your office they told me you were on vacation leave. Are you all right?”

The lines of tension in Jacob’s face softened. “I’m fine. It was mandated that if I didn’t take at least half of my accrued vacation, then I would lose it.”

“How much time is that?”

“Eight weeks.”

There was another pause from Gloria. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

Jacob shook his head although his mother couldn’t see him. “I can’t remember. It has to be more than five or six years.” He’d accrued not only vacation leave, but also compensatory time.

“Maybe I’ll take a few days off and come down to see you.”

Now it was Jacob’s turn to find himself at a loss for words. “When do you want to come?”

“It probably won’t be until mid-July. That is if you don’t have anything planned for that time,” Gloria said quickly.

He quickly calculated. It was now the second week in June and he’d hoped it wouldn’t take six weeks to catch the man who’d attempted to kill Ana. “That sounds good, Mom. However, if my plans change, then I’ll call you.”

“I know you don’t like me asking, but I’m going to do it anyway. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, Mom.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have the time. At least not right now,” he added truthfully. Even if he wanted to he couldn’t see anyone—not with Ana living with him.

“When are you going to have time, son? Thirty is in the rearview mirror and you’re fast approaching forty and you’re still single. I would like to have a couple of grandkids before I die.”

Exhaling an audible sigh, Jacob closed his eyes. Every time he had a conversation with his mother invariably the topic of his single status would come up. He wanted to tell her he had yet to celebrate his thirty-sixth birthday, but then she would come back with “I happen to know the year, day and hour you were born.”

“You’ll be the first to know when I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jacob?”

“What is it, Mom?”

“Nelson was picked up by the police yesterday.”

“Picked up or arrested?”

“He was arrested.”

“What did he do this time?” His stepbrother couldn’t stay out of trouble if someone paid him a million dollars.

“They claim he and some other boys stole a car and then robbed a convenience store. A cashier was shot—”

“Stop right there, Mom,” Jacob interrupted. “I’m not getting involved with this. Nelson Deavers is trouble and the sooner you and Henry accept that fact the better you’ll sleep at night. The last time I intervened and got the police to drop the charges Nelson promised me he wouldn’t get into trouble again. Stealing cars and shooting people are not misdemeanors and that means he’s going to prison. Tell Henry I’m sorry, but his boy is on his own.” He saw movement out the side of his eye and picked up the telephone receiver when Ana walked into the kitchen. “Mom, can I call you back later?”

“Of course you can. Please don’t forget to call me.”

His eyes met those of the petite woman in a tank top, shorts and flip-flops before glancing at the swell of breasts in the revealing top. Jacob didn’t want to believe that an oversize T-shirt and jeans had concealed a lush, tiny, curvy, compact body. Even Ana’s legs and feet were perfect.

“I won’t.” Jacob hung up, unaware that he’d been staring.

Ana’s hand went to her head as she attempted to fluff up the short, wet hair clinging to her scalp. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“It’s all right. I was going to hang up anyway.” Even if Ana hadn’t come into the kitchen Jacob had planned to end the conversation he had with his mother. It hurt Jacob that she only called when she needed his help with her stepsons. “Did you need something?”

She nodded. “I don’t have enough hangers.”

He forced himself not to look at the outfit that showed a little too much skin while hoping Ana wasn’t going to make it a habit of prancing around in next to nothing because it was going to make it hard for him to remember why she was living with him.

“How many do you need?”

“I’m not certain, but it has to be at least another twenty.”

“What?”

A slight smile touched the corners of Ana’s mouth when she saw his shocked expression. “I’ll take ten, but that would mean doubling up some of my things.”

“I have a few. But if you need more then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when I go out.”

Ana lifted her shoulders. “I suppose I’ll have to wait to hang up what’s leftover.”

“Why did you bring so many clothes?”

She took several steps, bringing them closer. “I didn’t know whether you’d have a washing machine—”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I did or didn’t, because you claim you don’t know how to use it.” Jacob saw a wave of color darken her face. “If you want I can show you how to use the washer and dryer.” When Ana stared at him, he thought of the saying that if looks could kill then he definitely would’ve stopped breathing. “Suit yourself,” he mumbled under his breath, “if you don’t want to grow up.”

“I’m definitely grown, Jacob. I can’t get any more grown, just older,” she retorted.

“Grown women I know do laundry, shop for groceries, cook and clean up after themselves.”

Ana didn’t intend to get into a verbal confrontation with Jacob over a lifestyle that had served her well with a minimum of angst. She knew who and what she was—privileged—and she wasn’t about to apologize to anyone about it, and especially not to him.

“Can you please tell me or show me where the hangers are?”

“You’ll find more in the bedroom across from the bathroom.”

Ana flashed a dimpled smile. “Thanks.” Spinning on her toes, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Jacob felt as if he’d been punched hard in the solar plexus when he gaped numbly at the firm roundness of her bottom in the revealing shorts. There was hardly enough fabric to conceal her buttocks.

“Ana.”

She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Jacob wanted to tell his houseguest that what she considered something cooler was downright indecent. And it wasn’t that he was a prude—far from it—but seeing her dress like that made him aware of how long it’d been since he’d slept with a woman.

“Would you be opposed to dining outdoors?” he said instead.

Ana peered at him over her shoulder, smiling. “Of course not, Jacob. In fact I was going to suggest it. As soon as I finish hanging up my clothes I’ll be down to help you put dinner together.”

“Make certain you put on sunscreen before we go outside. You’ve exposed a lot of skin,” he explained when she gave him a questioning look, “and the UV index is quite high today.”

A frown marred her smooth forehead. “I didn’t bring any. Do you happen to have some?”

Jacob’s smile was triumphant. “No, I don’t.” It faded as quickly as it’d appeared. “Did you bring a cover-up with you?”

Ana chewed her lip. “No. In fact I didn’t bring a swimsuit. But you may be able to help me out.”

“How’s that?” Jacob asked.

“If you’re willing to give up your rather garish shirt it could double as a cover-up.”

He glanced down at his shirt. “My shirt may be a little colorful, but it’s hardly garish.”

Ana bit back a smile. “Surely you jest. It’s loud and gaudy.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “It’s garish, gaudy and loud, yet you want to wear it?”

She extended her hand. “I’ll take it now if you don’t mind.”

“You want me to take it off now?”

“Why not? It’s only going to take me a few minutes to hang up the rest of my clothes before I come back and set the table. You do use the table on the deck, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Jacob countered. “I’m not into lap trays.” Ana reached out to unbutton his shirt, but he caught her wrist, holding it in a firm but gentle grip. “I’ll give you another shirt and I’ll make certain it’s somewhat less loud.”

Coward! Jacob silently berated himself. Why couldn’t he just tell her that seeing her dressed that way made him uncomfortable? In fact he was quite turned on by her curves. First the call from his mother had disturbed him, and now it was seeing a woman with whom he would spend days or perhaps even weeks with who thought nothing of dressing provocatively that had him on edge.

“I’m not going to strip for you, Ana. Go upstairs and hang up your clothes. And when you come down I’ll have something for you to put on.”

Ana wrested her wrist from his loose grip with a minimum of effort. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Jacob’s expression became a mask of stone. “Do what?”

Going on tiptoe, she thrust her face close enough for him to feel her moist breath on his jaw. “Talk to me as if I were either a child or an idiot.”

Seeing her close-up, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume made him aware of things that he hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes weren’t dark, but a clear brown with glints of gold. The color amber came to mind. She was short, much shorter than she appeared because of her slimness, and her damp hair was coal-black, the perfect contrast to her olive complexion. Not only was she beautiful, she was exotic.

It was Jacob’s turn to swallow the acerbic words poised on the tip of his tongue. Diego had cautioned him that Ana was going to be defiant and challenging. She’d chosen a career dominated by men and she’d somehow learned to navigate the testosterone-filled waters with relative ease. That is until now. She’d run into a juggernaut when dealing with Basil Irvine, because apparently the man had not taken kindly to a woman besting him.

“I am not one of your employees or a performer in the Serenity Records stable, so however you interpret what I say to you is a personal problem, Ana. I’m also not accustomed to dealing with spoiled brats who expect people to genuflect before them. I am giving up the next two months of my life, where I’d planned to sleep as late as I want, fish, sail down to the islands and if I feel the need for female companionship, then I’d find a woman to spend some quality time with who won’t bitch and moan because things aren’t going her way.

“I promised Diego that I would look after you, and I always keep my promises. Not to do so would make me less than honorable. And that’s not going to happen because you decide to throw a hissy fit. Now, please finish putting your clothes away, and when you come back I’ll have something for you to put on that will give you some protection from the sun.” He paused, watching the expressions on Ana’s face change from anger to shock. “Does this meet with your approval, Princess?”

* * *

Ana engaged in what could only be interpreted as a stare-down when she glared at Jacob. Not only was he arrogant, but also insufferable, and she wondered how long she would be able to live with him before calling her father and telling him she was willing to go to Brazil. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other options, because she did. There was her cousin’s horse farm in the western part of Virginia. Security on the farm was so tight, no one entered or left without being monitored.

If not Nicholas, then she could stay with another cousin in a remote region of North Carolina. Celia and her husband, FBI special agent Gavin Faulkner lived in a mountain retreat near the Tennessee border. In fact she had family members all over the country where she could stay in relative anonymity. Her brother Gabriel lived on Cape Cod with his ex-DEA agent wife, her sister’s husband was a training specialist for the CIA, and there were enough former military intelligence relatives to set up their own agency. But her father and cousin had decided U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones would be the better candidate to protect her in the States because he wasn’t family.

She continued to glare at Jacob. “I’m immune to bullying,” she whispered, then turned on her heels and walked out of the kitchen, feeling the heat from his gaze on her back. If her host was looking for a fight, then she was going to disappoint him and not give in to his goading. If Ana had learned anything in life, it was how to deal with men with enormous egos coupled with an overabundance of arrogance.

First and foremost there had been her grandfather. Samuel Claridge Cole put the a in arrogance. Purportedly the first black billionaire—his actual wealth a closely guarded family secret—he used intelligence and intimidation to build his empire. His drive for success was passed along to his offspring who refused to accept defeat. And for Ana it was the same. She wasn’t that bitch, skirt or any other derogative term attributed to women in positions of power, but someone ready and willing to conduct business in the most professional way possible.

She didn’t entertain gossip, read the tabloids or grant interviews. What she did do was attend most music industry award shows with her brother, while wearing haute couture and mouthing the appropriate phrases. Once she’d assumed control of Serenity Records her love life and her personal life were kept out of the spotlight, leading entertainment journalists to create whatever spin needed to sell magazines or increase TV ratings.

If Jacob thought he was going to browbeat her or break her will, then he was in for a shocker. After all, she was a Cole woman and they ruled while their men served.

Ana found the hangers in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet. Heavy mahogany furniture, furnishings and accent pillows in dramatic colors of chocolate, sand-beige and sea-foam-green pulled it all together. She found the space as masculine as its occupant.

A wide smile crinkled the skin around her eyes. She’d misjudged Jacob. He had a good sense for fashion. She counted at least half a dozen beautifully tailored suits in different colors. Racks held shoes ranging from slip-ons to wing tips. Shirts with monogrammed cuffs, slacks and jackets were hung neatly on racks along with a collection of ties. When, she mused, did he have the time to wear the tailored clothing and where? It was apparent her protector wasn’t what he presented to her.

He claimed he knew everything about her when she knew nothing about him other than his name, occupation and marital status. “Okay, Mr. Jones,” she whispered as she gathered the remaining hangers, “now it’s time for me to find out what you’re all about.”

Ana returned to the bedroom she would occupy during her stay in Long Key, hung up the remaining garments tossed on the bed and then retraced her steps along a catwalk to the staircase leading to the first floor.

She had to admit to herself that she liked the layout of the house. Unlike many homes built in the state it contained two levels. Her parents’ home was constructed in three one-story sections. They occupied one section, which included a guest wing. Four bedroom suites, one for each of their children, took up another section, and the third contained a state-of-the-art recording studio and what had been Serenity’s corporate office before David moved it to a Boca Raton downtown office building.

Although she knew Jason was more than capable of running the company, Ana wanted to be there just to feel the pulsing energy from prerecorded music playing softly throughout the offices. It hadn’t mattered whether it was soft jazz, R&B, blues, pop, country, classical, hip hop or occasionally gospel, Serenity was always about music.

Her thoughts returned to her host and protector. Jacob had admitted he cleaned his own house and she had discerned at least one thing about him: he was a neat-freak. The floors were spotless; there was no dust on any flat surface and even her adjoining spa-inspired bathroom was impeccable. It was no wonder he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend. He was more than capable of taking care of his own needs. And she didn’t want to believe he could be so vulgar to mention that if he needed a woman to take care of his physical needs, then he’d just go out and find one to spend some quality time with. She would never go out and pick up a man if she felt the need for sexual release, because engaging in risky behavior was against her principles. It didn’t mean she didn’t have urges, but that was only when she was sexually active. But lately she’d undergone a sexual drought, because she loathed hooking up with a man just for sex. The women she’d planned to accompany on their vacation to Puerto Rico had made a pact that they would sleep with at least one man before returning to the mainland. She’d been the only one who hadn’t agreed. They hadn’t begrudged her for not going along with their scheme, and that’s why she’d remained friends with them for so long. The motto between the five women was: judge not. They were very supportive of one another, and whenever one had a crisis they came together as one to provide emotional support.

Well, right about now Ana needed their support more than at any time in her life. Just seeing their faces or hearing their voices was like a soothing sedative. She’d promised Jacob she would help prepare dinner, but first things first. She had to call one of her girlfriends and let her know she would not be accompanying them to Puerto Rico.

* * *

Jacob was at the cooking island, chopping onions and red and green bell peppers. Several cloves of garlic were next to the colorful, finely minced veggies. His head popped up when she walked into the kitchen. Ana noticed that he’d exchanged his Hawaiian shirt for a white tee. Her jaw dropped, and mouth gaping she stared mutely at the breadth of his broad shoulders and muscular upper body. She was transfixed, watching the flex of muscle in his bulging biceps as he deftly diced strips of peppers.

Smiling, Jacob gestured to his colorful shirt hanging on the back of a high stool. “You can either use the loud and garish shirt, or there’s a tee on the seat of the stool.”

Ana forced her feet to move as she walked woodenly to pick up the T-shirt and pulled it on. The sleeves came past her elbows and the hem inches above her knees. “It’s just a trifle bit large.”

Jacob went back to cutting the garlic into minute pieces. “It’s enough to protect your skin.”

“It’s the perfect nightshirt.”

“I have more if you need nightshirts.”

Ana walked over and stood next to him. He’d exchanged his jeans for a pair of khaki walking shorts. “No, thanks. I have my own.” She stared at his large hands with long, slender fingers, noticing his nails were groomed. One of her pet peeves was men who either bit their nails or didn’t file them. Jacob’s were smooth and square-cut. “I’d like to use your phone to call someone.”

He stopped chopping, placing the sharp knife on the butcher block countertop. “Whoever you talk to, please do not divulge where you are.”

Resisting the urge to salute him, Ana wrinkled her nose instead. “I think I know the drill.”

“My number will not be displayed on their caller ID, so they won’t be able to call you back,” he called out as she walked to the wall phone.

“That’s okay,” she said over her shoulder. Resting a hip against the countertop, she removed the phone from its cradle and punched in the number of her friend who operated her business out of her home and was available 24/7.

Ana counted off the rings before she heard the familiar greeting. “Good afternoon. You have reached Creative Editorial Services. This is Samantha.”

“Sam, Ana.”

“Ana! Where the hell are you? And why haven’t you been answering your cell? You know I’ve been worried sick when I saw the news about someone shooting your cousin.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She’d met Samantha Mickelson when both were in the same college freshman English class. The fast-talking former book editor was open, friendly, spontaneous and her best friend. Ana had graduated and enrolled in law school while Samantha moved to New York City with the dream of becoming an editor. She’d managed to secure a position with a major publisher, working her way up from editorial assistant to an associate editor.

She discovered a brilliant mystery writer when she picked up his unsolicited manuscript from a slush pile and the rest was history. Their relationship went from editor and writer to husband and wife. Unfortunately for Sam her husband took his overnight success a step further when he literally became a literary rock star. Paul was always surrounded by groupies and that escalated rumors of him cheating to a tabloid exposé with photos of him in a hotel room with a barely legal nubile television actress.

Samantha had him served with divorce papers and, following a quiet divorce with a generous settlement, she returned to Florida and set up a freelance editorial service. Her reputation had preceded her, so she was never at a loss for clients wishing to break into publishing.

“I’m okay.”

“Where are you? I called your folks and your mom wouldn’t give me any information. I also called Jason at his office and he was just as mum. What’s up?”

Ana and Jacob exchanged a long, penetrating stare. She placed her hand on the mouthpiece. “Can you please give me a few minutes of privacy?” she whispered.

Jacob shook his head. “Nope. My house. My phone. My rules. I get to monitor all incoming and outgoing telephone calls.”

She glared at him. “That is so rude.”

“That is your opinion,” he countered.

“Ana, are you still there?”

She resisted the urge to suck her teeth—a habit her mother detested, and turned her back instead. “I’m still here. Look, Sam, I’m not going to be able to go down to Puerto Rico with you. And I was so looking forward to this trip.”

There came a pregnant pause. “Is something going on that you can’t talk about?”

Samantha was one of the most perceptive women Ana knew. There were times when she’d told the book editor that she could double as a psychic. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the same when it came to Samantha’s own future.

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “Is someone there listening in on what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“The fact that no one in your family is talking and you can’t tell me where you are reminds me of a mystery novel. I get it and respect that, but the only thing I want to know is if you’re safe.”

“Affirmative again,” Ana answered, lowering her voice.

“Well, that makes me feel better and hopefully I can get a full night’s sleep without waking up every few hours thinking about you. You know you’re my girl, Ana. I never would’ve made it through my divorce without your support.”

“Yes, you would’ve, Sam.”

Samantha’s husky laugh came through the earpiece. “I’m not going to debate that because I know I’ll lose. I love you to death, Ana, but if there is anything I can do just call.”

“I love you, too, but right now I’m in a very good place emotionally. If anything changes, then you’ll be the first to know. Give my best to the rest of the gang and tell them I’ll be with them in spirit.”

Samantha laughed again. “We’ll be certain to raise a couple of glasses of mojitos, piña coladas, cosmos and one or two extra-dirty martinis to toast your absence.”

“And don’t forget Jack and Coke.”

“Please don’t mention Jack and Coke. That’s what got me into trouble where I’d lost my mind and wound up married to that fool.”

Ana smiled. “Then scratch the Jack and Coke.” She quickly sobered when she shifted and saw Jacob frowning at her. “Look, Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.” She ended the call, replaced the receiver on the cradle and then turned to meet her protector’s angry scowl. “What’s the matter now?”

The seconds ticked as they engaged in what could only be determined as a stare-down. Ana knew instinctually that Jacob hadn’t wanted her to make phone calls, but there was no way he could completely shut her off from the outside world.

“I would prefer that you not make any calls, and if you do then limit them to a minute or less.”

A smug smile touched her lips. So, she was right. He didn’t want her using the phone. “That call was necessary because I had to tell my friend that my vacation plans had changed.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jacob continued to stare at her, brows drawing together as he continued to frown. “What you’re going to have to accept is that your entire life will change until the person or persons who want you eliminated is either caught or killed.”

A shiver eddied up Ana’s spine at the same time she closed her eyes. Killed. The single word was uttered as softly as a pleasant greeting. But then she couldn’t afford to forget that the man with whom she would live with for who knew how long carried a firearm and had been trained to use it with deadly force when necessary. And she said a silent prayer that whoever was responsible for shooting Tyler would be apprehended alive. After all, dead people couldn’t talk.

It hadn’t been a week since that fateful day when she stood in the restaurant parking lot with her cousin, but Ana wanted it over. Perhaps when she went to sleep and woke up she would realize it’d been a bad dream. That she’d read one of the mystery novels Samantha had edited and everything that’d happened was because of an overactive imagination.

But she knew she couldn’t blink and will it away because of the incredibly virile man standing only feet away. Despite the turmoil going on in her life that had impacted her family she did not want to think about sharing a roof with a man as attractive as Jacob. Why, she mused, couldn’t he be short, fat, balding and smelling of liniment? But he wasn’t, and that made her uncomfortable. She also wondered how long it would take before she would go completely stir-crazy from the inactivity.

Ana was used to getting up every morning and working out in her condominium’s health club before she prepared to go into her office. She and Jason alternated chairing bi-weekly staff meetings where they brought everyone employed by the recording company up on what was going on with their artists. And once she’d taken control as CEO she’d established an open-door policy. There hadn’t been a time when she did not entertain someone’s suggestion, whether she believed it would or wouldn’t benefit the company, whenever the executives held their brainstorming sessions.

“I know you see me as an imposition—”

“You’re not,” Jacob said, interrupting her. “If I thought of you as an imposition, then I never would’ve agreed to let you come and stay here.”

“Why did you agree?”

He smiled, the expression reminding Ana of a ray of sunshine warming her face and she wanted to tell him that it was something he should do more often.

“Because there are very few things I wouldn’t do for Diego.”

Her eyebrows lifted at this disclosure. “Did you and Diego go to college together?” She’d asked because her cousin had attended college in Miami.

“No. Diego has three years on me.”

Ana quickly did the math. Diego was going to celebrate his thirty-ninth birthday, so he had to be at least thirty-five or six.

“I’ll be thirty-six September seventeenth,” Jacob confirmed.

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