Page 16 of The Kiss Keeper
“You’re not a betting man, Charlie. You’re the one who taught me how to see it all in black and white and filter out the bullshit shades of gray.”
A muscle ticked in his mentor’s jaw. “Take in the Maine air. Eat some goddamn lobster. Buy a boat and sail the coast.”
“I don’t do boats,” Jake shot back, his voice void of emotion.
Charlie rested a hand on his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Then forget the boats and do however many blondes you like while you’re in Maine but get me that land.”
Jake tried to discern what was lurking behind his boss’s hazel gaze when Charlie gave him one last slap to the shoulder, then sauntered down the row toward the woman with the killer cleavage.
“Shall we?” the driver offered and gestured to the exit.
Jake stared at the door and steadied himself. Ready or not, he was going back to Maine.
3
Jake
Jake settled himself into the town car and tried to relax into the plush leather seat as the vehicle merged into traffic. He needed to quiet his mind and get focused, but his thoughts churned and whirled as fragments of his childhood accosted his mind.
Maybe it was the fact that he was heading to Camp Woolwich or the oddity of Charlie offering to make him a partner if he were able to procure a tiny parcel of land. His mentor had built luxury resorts in remote areas before, but he’d stuck to purchasing properties in warmer climates where the place wasn’t packed in ice and frigid temperatures for a decent chunk of the year.
Then it hit him. That Dubai transaction may have put him on the fast-track at Linton, but if this Maine deal went through, he’d be set—totally and completely in control.
He’d relied on himself for the better part of his life.
No safety net.
No family there to catch him if he fell.
He leaned his head against the seat and inhaled, smelling the sea air as if he were already back at Camp Woolwich. As if a moment hadn’t passed since his mystery girl entered his life that night when he was sent to meet his kiss keeper. She was everywhere. Her soft lips. Her graceful neck. His hands on her shoulders. The way he could hear the smile in her voice—that gentle warmth woven in with the honeyed scent of blackberries. His first impression of her had been sightless, and even when he’d gotten a glimpse, she was still shrouded in darkness with that damned bandana. So, he’d relied on his other senses to paint a picture of her in his mind.
A faceless masterpiece held together by touch, scent, taste, and sound.
“Sir, we’ve arrived.”
Jake blinked open his eyes. Jesus! He could not allow thoughts of some thirteen-year-old mystery girl to derail the importance of closing this deal. He caught his reflection in the window and smoothed his jacket.
With a body that rivaled most fitness gurus, he wasn’t some gangly thirteen-year-old anymore. And he sure as hell couldn’t let that kid wreck this opportunity.
Time to get his head in the game. He could pull property records and research the Woolwich family on his flight. Hell, by this time tomorrow, he could be ordering new business cards with the titlepartnerprinted prominently under his name.
The driver removed his bag from the trunk and handed him his boarding pass. Jake slipped the man a twenty, then headed inside to catch his flight.
The line for TSA screening was insane, and he was grateful he didn’t have to wait with the herds of unseasoned travelers. Usually, void of Hawaiian shirt-wearing idiots and screaming toddlers, the exclusive PreCheck security line, and the ability to fly First Class were the only ways to maintain one’s sanity when navigating the world of commercial air travel. He headed to the familiar spot, then froze to find the area empty.
This was not good.
He blew out a breath and spied a familiar face. Thanks to spending a decent amount of time in the Denver airport, Jake was on friendly terms with many of the security agents and recognized the man staffing the empty area.
“What’s going on, Tim?”
The TSA agent shrugged. “System’s down. Everyone has to go through the main line today.”
“Shit,” Jake murmured.
“It might not be so bad. I wouldn’t mind being stuck in line behind her,” the man replied, gesturing with his chin toward a woman at the end of the line.
Dressed in a trench coat and red heels, the stunning brunette stood in line, her gaze bouncing wildly between her phone and the airport’s bustling main lobby like a sexed-up bobblehead doll.
