Keeping Gemma (Holiday Cove 2)

My finger hovered on the light switch when I stopped, frozen, at the sound of high heels hitting the concrete floor. My stomach dropped out the bottom as I turned and found Talia grinning back at me.

“Hello stranger,” she purred, running a finger down the lapel of my leather jacket.

I took a step back. “I don’t have time for whatever this is about.”

Her brown eyes sparked with an edge of danger. “Hot date waiting on you?”

I crossed my arms, putting a barrier between us. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Talia.”

“Jealousy?” She laughed, each trill a sharp, staccato sound. “No, no, my dear, you’re getting it twisted. Women like me, we don’t get jealous. I’d have figured you had picked up on that already.”

My patience was unraveling quickly. Talia had been a game since the first time we met, but this new phase had a darkness that left me uneasy. “Women like you? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She scoffed. “Henry’s whore. A thing to be bargained and sold.”

I was startled by the raw hate in her voice. It was the first sign of genuine emotion I’d seen from her.

“You seemed fine with that when you were in my office earlier,” I replied, not letting her tone sway me.

Her eyes drifted from mine. “I suppose I’m good at what I do.”

“And what is that?” I asked, my sharp tone demanding her attention. “What is it that you do for him? Besides the obvious.” I flicked a glance down her body, making my meaning clear.

If she was ashamed, she didn’t show it. If anything, my insult only spurred her on. Her dark eyes flashed. “I didn’t come here to talk about me, Aaron. I came here to warn you.”

“Does Henry know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “I get that you’re mad at me. I…mislead you…but if you can set that aside, I can help you.”

I uncrossed my arms and pocketed my hands. “I’m listening.”

“As I told you, Henry is the kind of man who gets what he wants. He came here with one point, to see if you’d bite and sell him the plane.” She paused. “You could have named any price. He would have paid.”

“But why? The plane isn’t worth anything to him.”

“It was all a test, Aaron.”

I arched a brow. “A test? For what?”

“He wanted to see if you could be bought,” Talia explained.

“And now that he knows I can’t?”

She shrugged. “He’ll find another way to get what he wants.”

“And what is it that he wants?”

“This place,” she said, waving her hand around the museum.

My heart flapped into a frenzy. “You said this wasn’t about land development.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” She wiggled a finger at me. “You asked, and I changed the subject.”

I groaned under my breath. “Is it always like this with you? One step forward, two steps back?”

“He’s going to make you an offer, Aaron, but it’s not what you think. He’s going to offer you a partnership. He’s going to try and bring you into the fold. He’ll trot out some lawyers and consultants who will make it sound glamorous and amazing, like something from a dream, but it’s important that you keep your head.”

“Is that what happened to you?” I asked, my voice soft.

“Let’s just say, I’ve seen him in action more than once,” Talia replied, her own tone softening. “Aaron, I like you, okay? So don’t let him sweep you away into his fantasy land.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but trust me, I’m not getting caught in anyone’s fantasy land, and I sure as hell am not selling this place or any of its contents. I don’t care what he dangles my way.”

Talia nodded slowly. “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

She spun on her heels and walked out of the museum, leaving behind nothing but the clicking echo of her heels on the concrete and a whole new horde of doubts in the back of my mind.

9

As the weeks went by, Talia’s warning faded from my memory. I hadn’t heard from her since the night she’d shown up after closing at the museum—and hadn’t heard from Henry either, so I had to assume that either he’d changed his mind on his own—or that she’d somehow intervened to kill the deal before it went any farther.

Whatever the hell had gone down, I didn’t really care. I was done with the drama and ready to get on with my own plans. Plans that didn’t require Henry O’Keefe’s money or connections.

“Lana, what’s this blocked-out section on the calendar?” I kept my finger on the screen as I twisted in my chair to look at Lana, who was seated on the couch in my office, taking notes as we went over the plans for the week ahead.

Lana stood and hovered over my shoulder to see what I was talking about. “Oh, I meant to talk to you about that…”