ログインThe waiter seemed to be taking his sweet time noticing Honey's signal, and her empty glass sat mockingly in front of her. Meanwhile, Grayson and his mystery blonde were being seated at a prime table near the window.
"That's it," Honey muttered, rising from her chair. "I'm going to the bar myself."
"Want me to come with you?" Lauren offered.
"No, stay put. I'll be right back."
Honey strode across the restaurant, conscious of her appearance in the black dress that hugged her curves. Without her Joy Smith persona, she moved differently, with more confidence, her natural grace no longer suppressed. At the bar, she leaned forward, catching the bartender's attention.
"One gin and tonic, and two martinis, please."
While waiting, she didn't look towards Grayson's table.
The bartender nodded at Honey's order, quickly mixing the drinks. As she waited, she felt a presence beside her, someone sliding onto the stool at her right. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a dark suit and the scent of expensive sandalwood cologne.
The bartender looked up.
"Scotch, neat," came a deep voice she recognized instantly. "And a sparkling water."
Honey kept her gaze fixed on the bartender's hands as he prepared her drinks, willing herself not to turn. Of all the bars in all the restaurants in New York, Grayson Taylor had to pick this one. She shifted slightly, angling her body away from him.
"I'll pay for the drinks now," she told the bartender, pulling out her credit card. No need to charge to their table.
The bartender nodded, but before he could take her card, Grayson's voice cut in.
"Add the lady's drinks to my tab."
Honey stiffened. He hadn't recognized her, had he? No, he couldn't have. Not with her real hair down, no glasses, and in this dress. Still, she wasn't about to accept drinks from him.
"That won't be necessary," she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, still not looking his way.
"I insist," Grayson replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice… the charm he switched on when he wanted something. It was nothing like the clipped businesslike tones he used with Joy Smith at the office.
The bartender glanced between them, caught in the middle of their standoff.
She was not going to create a scene. "Your choice," she finally said, taking the card back and sliding it back into her purse. "Thank you."
As the bartender moved away to finish their drinks, Grayson turned toward her. She could feel his eyes on her profile.
"I don't usually get turned down when I offer to buy a beautiful woman a drink," he said.
Honey almost snorted. Beautiful woman? He wouldn't recognize beauty if it presented financial reports to him every month or glared at him over the boardroom table.
"Maybe you're not as irresistible as you think you are," she replied, finally turning to face him fully.
For a split second, his eyes widened in appreciation as he took her in—the red hair, the form-fitting dress, the confident posture. There was no hint of recognition in his gaze, just pure male interest.
He was hitting on her!
"I'm Grayson," he said, extending his hand.
"I know who you are."
Grayson looked her over again. "Have we met before? Because I’m sorry—"
Honey stared at Grayson, momentarily caught off-guard by his complete lack of recognition. It was almost comical how thoroughly her Joy Smith disguise worked. The man she argued with nearly every day couldn't connect this confident redhead with his frumpy CFO.
"No, we haven't met, but you are Grayson Taylor who is engaged to Morgan Fairchild?" she asked, her voice cool and steady. She glanced toward his table where the blonde waited. "You're here with another woman and you're chatting me up? That's just all class."
A flash of annoyance crossed his face. His jaw tightened slightly.
"Not like it's any of your business," he said, his voice hardening, "but my engagement with Morgan is over." He gestured toward the blonde at his table. "And that is my sister, Emma. I don't cheat."
He took his drinks and credit card from the bar, then stood, towering over her. For a brief moment, their eyes locked.
"Excuse me," he said stiffly, then turned and walked away, leaving her there with her mouth hanging open.
Honey watched him return to his table, stunned by the exchange. The blonde, his sister? Looked up at him with concern as he sat down. Now that Honey looked more carefully, she could see the family resemblance in their profiles. Their coloring was very different.
The bartender slid her drinks across the counter, breaking her trance. "Your drinks, ma'am."
"Thanks," she muttered, gathering them carefully. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she made her way back to her friends.
Lauren and Maggie leaned forward eagerly as she approached.
"What happened?" Lauren whispered, helping Honey distribute the drinks. "You two seemed to be having words."
Honey sank into her chair, still processing the encounter. "I just accused Grayson Taylor of cheating on his fiancée."
"You did what?" Maggie nearly choked on her fresh martini.
"He was flirting with me, Well, I think he was, and I thought... with everything that's happening with Riley..." Honey shook her head. "Turns out his engagement is over, and that's his sister at the table."
"Oh my god," Lauren covered her mouth. "Wait, he's not engaged anymore? When did that happen? The tabloids have been all over their relationship."
"I don't know," Honey admitted, stealing a glance at Grayson's table. He was now deep in conversation with his sister, his expression serious. "But he seemed pretty defensive about it."
"Well, at least now we know why he's not with Morgan tonight," Maggie said. "But he was hitting on you?"
"Maybe he wasn't… I could have read too much into it," Honey began, then stopped herself. That's exactly what he'd been doing. "God, what must he think of me?" Honey dropped her head in her hands, embarrassed.
"Who cares?" Lauren shrugged. "It's not like you'll ever see him again. Well, not as Honey, anyway."
Honey lifted her head and took a large swallow of her drink, feeling oddly unsettled. She'd been so quick to judge him, to assume the worst. After Riley's betrayal, she'd automatically projected those same traits onto Grayson.
"He said 'I don't cheat' like it was a point of honor for him," she mused. "I wonder what happened between him and Morgan."
"Maybe she cheated on him," Maggie suggested. "Would explain his reaction to your accusation."
"Enough about my boss," Honey said, pushing the encounter aside. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."
"Then what was it like? Because from my viewpoint, it felt like you couldn't get away from me fast enough.""I was trying to do the right thing." His voice was low, rough. "You deserved better than some fucked-up Marine with more baggage than future. You deserved a clean break. You had your whole life ahead of you. Fuck, Prue, you were a virgin.""You don't get to decide what I deserve or need." The tears were coming now and she hated them, hated showing him how much he'd hurt her. "And you especially don't get to make that decision for me and then disappear without a word. What you did was a shitty thing to do."He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were darker than she'd ever seen them. "You're right. I should have called. I should have—" He stopped. "I'm sorry."The apology hung between them.Prue wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm not telling you this because I want something from you. I'm not trying to trap you or force you into anything. But you ha
Prue arrived at The Grey Market fifteen minutes early, which gave her too much time to sit there and panic.The coffee shop was busy for a Tuesday afternoon, filled with students from SCAD and tourists wandering through the area's historic district. She'd chosen a table in the back corner, away from the windows, somewhere they could talk without being overheard. Her hands wrapped around a cup of herbal tea she hadn't touched, watching the door like her life depended on it.Which, in a way, it did. She knew she was being dramatic, but she wanted this to go a certain way if all her dreams could come true. She didn't just want her baby she wanted Nate. If she was going to be honest with herself.She'd changed clothes three times that morning. Settled finally on jeans and a loose blouse that didn't cling to her stomach, even though there was nothing to see yet. Her hair was down, brushed until it shone, because some stupid part of her brain thought if she looked good enough, he might… wha
They both knew a woman can claim rape if she was too drunk to make a clear chose. “Fuck, Gray, you know me better than that. She wanted it, and she was sober.” The memory of Prue in that cave, looking up at him with those eyes, begging him not to stop. “She was the one who… it wasn’t like I forced her or anything. But she was in shock, Gray. We’d just watched my driver Jon die, we’d been shot at, we were stuck in a cave in the middle of a jungle. And I should have kept my hands off her, but I didn’t.”“What happened after?”“After?” Nate’s laugh was bitter. “After I realized what I’d done. After I realized she was twenty years old and a virgin and I had no business touching her. So I got her back to her father and I walked away.”“You just left?”“What was I supposed to do? She’s got her whole life ahead of her, Gray. She’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s got an education and a father who can open doors I’ll never be able to open. What the hell was I supposed to offer her? A one-bedroom
Four weeks later, Prue stood in her bathroom in her family home, staring at the pregnancy test lying on the vanity like it might suddenly change its mind. That somehow there was a mistake.Two pink lines. Clear as day.She’d known. Of course she’d known. Her period was two weeks late, her breasts were tender. But knowing and seeing it confirmed were two different things entirely.Pregnant.She pressed one hand to her stomach, feeling nothing different yet, but knowing everything had changed.The house was quiet around her. Her father was at some meeting in Washington, wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Which was probably for the best because she had no idea how she was going to tell him that his twenty-year-old daughter was pregnant by her bodyguard. A man he’d specifically warned her about. A man who’d disappeared without so much as a goodbye.Four weeks.Four weeks since she’d watched Nate walk away on that helipad in Darwin. Four weeks of waiting for him to call, to reach out, to ack
The medical facility was sterile and cold. Prue sat on the examination table while her father stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the medical team assemble their equipment.A nurse approached with scissors. “We’ll need to cut off your clothing, Miss Brooks. It’ll be easier than trying to—”“No.” Prue’s hand shot out, gripping the woman’s wrist. “I’m not letting you cut my clothes off.”The nurse blinked, surprised. “Miss Brooks, it’s standard procedure. You’ve been through a traumatic experience and we need to examine you for injuries—”“I said no.” Prue’s voice was firm. She looked at her father. “I want a shower first. And clean clothes. Then they can examine me.”The doctor, an older man with grey hair and kind eyes, stepped forward. “Miss Brooks, I understand you’ve been through something terrible, I heard you were in the middle of the riot. You may not realize if you’ve been hurt with the shock—”“I’m not hurt.” The words came out sharper than she intended. “But I’m not letting
He looked down at his shoulder like he'd forgotten about it. "It's fine.""It's not fine, there's blood—""It stopped bleeding." He shifted in his seat, wincing slightly. "Just a burn. Bullet grazed me yesterday, that's all.""That's all?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You got shot and you didn't say anything?""Wasn't shot. Grazed. There's a difference."He acted like this was normal. Getting shot wasn’t normal.One of the airmen leaned over, first aid kit already in hand. "Let me take a look, mate."Nate started to protest, then seemed to realize it was pointless. He let the airman peel back his shirt, revealing the adhesive pad he'd slapped on that morning. Nate saw it was soaked with blood, so it must have started to bleed during their trek to the airstrip.The skin around the burn was angry and red, the graze itself a nasty streak across the top of his shoulder."Christ," the airman muttered. "You've been walking around with this all morning? Should be hurting like







