Kimberly Dean - Solace in Scandal

Not that she was feeling sorry for him.

Her spine snapped straight when she realised where her thoughts were wandering. He had brought this punishment upon himself; he was the reason the reporters were here. She hadn’t done anything to deserve any of this.

But she had to find a way to deal with it.

The back of her fingers brushed against something soft. Looking down she saw a blood red rose. Opening her hand, she cupped the heavy blossom. It was full and lush. Her thumb brushed over a velvety petal. Beautiful, yet hearty. It was thriving, even with the erratic temperatures and cold dew. Something inside her softened.

‘A lesson in resiliency.’

Lifting her chin, she looked about. The fall garden was waning, but it was still a riot of colours and textures. The Wolfe Gardens could compete with any public garden that charged entry fees. Then again, their private benefactor probably spent more money on them, and the wear and tear was less.

She began travelling through the wandering maze, appreciating the discoveries at every turn. The gardens ran all the way up beside the manor. Beyond that, there was a sweeping, expansive lawn, but then the trees started up again. They were thick all the way up to the main road.

An idea started clicking inside her head. She hadn’t seen the reporters for herself. What if the situation wasn’t as bad as Leonard had made it seem?

She was deep in thought when she turned into the English tea garden. So deep, she nearly barrelled in on the one man she was trying to avoid.

The Wolfe was in the garden.

Her breath caught and she quickly hid behind a white pergola laced with vines and roses. What was he doing here? Was he following her? She bit her lip, considering what to do. By rights, she should turn around, go back down the hill and lock herself in the lake house.

But the road was in the other direction.

She peeked around the corner. He was still heading away from her. Unlike her, he was a true pacer. She watched the way he stalked down the little path, his broad shoulders narrowing to a taut waist and even nicer butt. Her tongue ran over her lips.

Oh, damn. He was wearing the jeans again.

She ducked back into hiding when he pivoted. For a brief moment, she saw a muscled chest and bulging biceps. Yet she’d also seen the mussed hair and the shadows underneath his eyes. Something had him worked up.

She heard a curious tapping noise. When she risked another peek, she found that he’d stopped at the table. For the first time, she became aware of the patio furniture that had been set up in the centre square. It was white wicker with deep green cushions. What caught her attention, though, was the computer sitting on the table.

She frowned. What was he doing? Reading news articles about himself? Getting caught up on The Wolfe Pack’s bottom line? Emailing cohorts who still agreed to associate with him?

She watched as he typed then pulled back to reference something. It looked like a grade-school notebook. For a moment, the red colour threw her. Even though he was dressed so casually, she would have expected his notebook to be leather-bound with a Mont Blanc pen within reach.

He followed along in the notebook, tracing a line, before looking back at his laptop. That, at the other end of the spectrum, was top grade. His fingers flew as he typed, but then he stood upright. Lacing his hands behind his neck, he stared at the screen. Finally, he swore and turned. His foot lashed out at an outdoor ottoman, and it went clattering along the flat stone patio before abruptly coming to a stop.

Elena jumped at the violence of the movement, but more so at the anger that lay underneath. It was gritty and fierce, palpable from where she stood. Almost immediately, though, it was tamped. With iron-like mettle, the man before her reined it all in. The anger sank back below the surface – or, more likely, was shoved. Standing with his fingers still wrapped together behind his neck, he let out another curse and looked towards the sky. The word was low and breathy, but it was enough to make her realise she needed to be moving along.

She headed into the garden maze, intending to take a path further away from the house.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

She looked around quickly. Was there someone else around that she hadn’t seen?

He sighed. ‘Stay away from the front gate, Elena.’

That brought her straight upright. Her breath caught when she found him staring straight at her. His grey eyes were piercing and all too knowing.

How had he sensed her? More so, how had he figured out her plans? ‘I … I just thought I’d see if the reporters are still out there.’

‘Trust me. They’re dug in like ticks.’ His attention returned to his computer screen. ‘Ready to draw blood.’

Apparently they were talking now. Or were they?

He planted a foot on the chair in front of him and braced his forearm across his knee as he leaned forward. The position emphasised the long muscles in his back. Whatever he was working on had his attention more than she did.

Although he’d somehow spotted her when she’d made little to no noise.

She edged backwards. ‘I’ll stay hidden in the treeline.’

‘Did you watch TMZ last night? They were trying out a thermal camera.’ He tapped a few more keys on the keyboard. ‘They managed to spot one of the rabbits that run around the place.’

His gaze was on her again in that second. ‘ My rabbit.’

She froze under his stare.

‘There’s no telling how rabid they’ll get if they spot a person.’ That grey gaze slowly trailed down her body. ‘Especially if it’s female.’

There it was again, the crackling in the air. Self-consciousness overcame Elena as she stood before him – or was that just awareness? Awareness of her body, acknowledgment of their differences, him male, her female? He missed nothing with that gaze, and she felt the way her breasts filled out her knit top. She sensed the lift in the heels of her boots and the resulting tilt of her hips. Even with the extra three inches, she barely came up to his chin.

The hoodie’s zipper bit into the palm of her hand.

His hoodie.

The one she was wearing and hadn’t returned.

Her immediate impulse was to give it back, but the bulkiness hid her shape. In that moment, she could no more take it off than she could walk down a stripper runway. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t do that then.’

‘Leonard will let you know when it’s clear.’

She nodded. All right. That sounded like a dismissal. It rubbed wrong, but this was his land. He hadn’t invited her here. ‘Thank you,’ she forced herself to say.

The sooner she got out of here, the better.

She turned on her heel, this time back towards the lake. His voice stopped her again.

‘You haven’t been doing yoga in the evenings.’

Oh, yes. He knew exactly what her body looked like underneath his fleece jacket.

Awareness ran like an electrical charge down her spine. When she looked over her shoulder, she found him still watching her. His pose was casual, still leaning over with one foot braced on the patio chair, but his eyes were alert. She might have been watching him on his walks through the woods, but he’d been watching her too.

Warmth unfurled inside her and began to circulate through her veins.

‘It’s getting too chilly.’

He waited for a long moment, almost as if he was debating what he’d say next. When he spoke, the offer surprised her.

‘You could use the gym in the main house, if you’d like.’

The main house. She’d made use of the library before he’d returned. There were some valuable resources there that rivalled those she’d found in the NYU library. Yet he was offering her more than that, and she wasn’t certain how to interpret it. She doubted he was the type for friendly gestures – although he’d been a renowned philanthropist before the scandal had broken. Or had that all been part of the illusion?