Chapter One
New Castle, Pennsylvania
Six Years Later
Dr. Chloe Wolfe finished her wine and went to find her coat. It was after midnight and the intimate wedding reception held at her friend slash patient’s home was over. Jade Schultz was officially Mrs. Jeremy Larson and Chloe’s happiness for the couple went beyond what a therapist typically feels for a client.
The coats were piled on the bed of the master bedroom. She located hers and adjusted her scarf. In the dimly lit room, she searched her bag for her keys and the floor creaked behind her. She turned, and her smile fell.
Shock jolted her veins as their gazes met, a thousand volts of electricity thawing her blood with the heat of a thousand white flames. She staggered back as her head shook, certain her mind was playing tricks on her as unforgettable blue eyes stared down at her.
The scar that scared her all those years ago now brought a level of comfort, marking him as the hero that rescued her when she’d been desperate and hopeless to reach her sons. She’d never forget him or mistake someone else for the man who saved her all those years ago.
How was he here, standing in front of her at her friends’ home? Why was he here? So many questions yet her shock left her mute.
Dark hair, tied at the nape of his neck, exposed the jagged scar running from his jaw and disappearing somewhere below the collar of his shirt. The same scar she’d spent an entire car ride studying six years ago. Familiar tanned skin accented his piercing blue eyes, such an unnatural blue they seemed to glow within the shadows.
His lashes were black as a raven’s wing, matching the dark sheen of his hair. But those penetrating eyes… They were too pretty for a man’s face. Her attention dropped to his body.
The tailored suit teased her recollection of him, mocking the way she recalled his broken-in blue jeans and worn cotton shirt. Maybe this wasn’t him. Maybe she had too much to drink and should wait another hour before driving home.
His visage wasn’t what anyone would describe as pretty. Rugged, weathered, hard enough to make the slightest smile shocking—just as she remembered. It had to be him.
“Is it you?” She pressed her hand to her temple where her pulse thundered.
“I beg your pardon?” His expression one of confusion, but there was no mistaking that voice. It rattled like creaking timber, deep and strong, tinged with a slight Jersey accent.
This was not a man easily forgotten. Chloe certainly recalled him more often than she probably should. He was older now and somehow that made his appearance all the more arresting.
“The subway… You… You gave me a ride from Maryland to Pennsylvania when I was in dire straits.”
The fringe of his lashes hid his eyes as his attention jerked away. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else. Excuse me.” He turned to the door as if to leave the room.
He was lying. Either that, or he’d forgotten her. She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his solid wrist. “I know it’s you. Your name’s Trenton Cole. You have to remember. You rescued me. I had no money and was stranded. We drove for hours in your truck and you dropped me off in New Castle.”
His lips firmed, drawing her attention back to the scar that crossed his jaw. He audibly swallowed, his gaze piercing her composure like a skewer to her Achilles. Her grip on his arm fell away. What was she doing touching a perfect stranger?
But he wasn’t a stranger. She knew him—or had at least met him in a past life. Maybe he honestly didn’t recognize her. She looked nothing like the terrified, filthy woman he saved years ago, but surely he recalled...
A smile wobbled to her lips. This was surreal. She never expected to cross his path again. “Tell me you remember me. I haven’t forgotten you.”
He stiffly nodded, his posture tense. Her memory might have glorified him because she remembered a man who was relaxed and at ease. This man appeared alarmed and uncomfortable at the sight of her. Maybe he had a wife and didn’t want to explain how he’d picked up a strange woman years ago.
She took a step back. “You drove away before I could thank you. You saved my life.”
He glanced at the door and back to her. “I… Yes, I remember now. Are… Are you still married?”
“You do remember!” Her smile grew. Why was he here at her friends’ house, celebrating their wedding? “I’ve been on my own for six years. How do you know Jade and Jeremy?”
“I was in the service with Jeremy and met Jade through him.”
Her mind quickly flowed over her sessions with Jade. She thought she knew the names of everyone in her life. Oh, my God, Jade had mentioned a friend of Jeremy’s—a giant of a man that went by Trent, but Chloe never made the connection.
His gaze tightened and his mouth remained flat. “How do you know them?”
“I’m …” She hesitated, not wanting to betray Jade by introducing herself as her therapist. “A friend of Jade’s.”
He frowned as if trying to piece together his own puzzle. “How did you two meet?”
Her expression turned tender. “Through a mutual friend.” As a therapist, she would always protect her client’s confidentiality.
Neither one of them seemed to know what to say, so they shifted awkwardly in the dark room. He cleared his throat. “I… I never got your name.”
She smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Chloe. Chloe Wolfe. It’s a pleasure to finally introduce myself to you, Mr. Cole.”
His head cocked as something flashed in his eyes. “Chloe Wolfe?”
She nodded and continued to smile. As his hand closed around hers a shaky breath filled her lungs. It wasn’t a typical handshake. The gentle way he clasped her fingers, the warmth of his palm, it radiated through her entire body and stole her breath.
“The pleasure’s mine. I’m glad to hear you and your boys are doing well, Chloe.”
Her breath left in a whoosh as he said her name. Not only did he remember her, he remembered she had sons.
Her stomach clenched. This man changed her life and never asked for anything in return. A wave of hero worship softened her knees and she found herself staring up at him with an unbendingly smitten grin.
* * * *
She was adorable with her fawn colored eyes and little, upturned nose. He recalled thinking she had a pretty face and trusting, under different circumstances, she’d be a bombshell. Now, even in a wool winter coat and scarf, he knew his instincts were spot on.
Tall, with enough ample curves to keep a man occupied for days, Chloe was a woman a man could hold onto. She shouldn’t look at him like that. If she knew who he really was, this reunion would be going extremely differently. A small scar clipped her lip, making him wonder where it came from and reminding him of the man she’d once been married to. Her hair was still dyed auburn, no longer blonde like the picture he kept in a hidden file marked Chloe Hunt. Where had the name Wolfe come from? It irritated him that he couldn’t ask.
She was older but appeared younger. He supposed it was her smile that gave her such a youthful glow. It was something he’d wanted to see but never had the chance.
Well, that wasn’t totally true. He’d never forget her expression as she scooped up her boys the day he dropped her off in New Castle. That damn smile had cost him a hundred grand and a lot of hassle. But seeing it again reminded him it was worth it.
He was relieved to hear she never went back to her asshole husband. He’d wondered.
“You look happy.”
“I am.”
And sexy. It had to mean something that they were running into each other after so long when he’d always assumed there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d see her again. For all he knew, New Castle was just a pit stop for her to catch her breath. He never expected her to stay here. Yet here she was.
Lust and need punched through him as she tipped her head to the side and batted her eyes. “I just can’t believe we’re running into each other like this. Here of all places.”
A soft flush tinged her cheeks. They were still holding hands and neither one of them seemed in a rush to let go. Years of wondering collided in the present as every curious thought he’d ever had about her—and there were a lot—rushed through him in a jolt of awareness. This woman had consumed his thoughts for months after he quit the job. She’d become an obsession he’d forced himself to quit, knowing he could never pursue his curiosity and see how she was surviving. Some days it was more than curiosity. And some days it was worry. But he’d thought of her often and it seemed impossible she was standing here now.
His fingers gently squeezed and her breasts lifted, her eyes dilating in the moonlight as she blinked up at him. Was she single? Would it be the stupidest thing he’d done this year to ask her out? Maybe he was due for a little stupid.
“Do you still live around here?” His voice came out gravelly.
“I live in my Aunt Regina’s house. The house you brought me to.” Her smile faltered and her hand slipped from his. “She passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
His fingers twitched to touch her again. She shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t like the idea that he might be making her uncomfortable, so he took a slight step back. “How old are your sons now?”
All signs of nervousness vanished, replaced with evident pride. “Oh, well, Mattie, my youngest, is seven and a half, and Dayton, my oldest, is nine.”
He loved the way her eyes lit up at the mention of her children. “Any other children?”
She laughed and his ears clung to the melodic sound. “There was a chunk of my life where I mastered barefoot and pregnant. Two boys are enough to keep me busy. How about you? Are you still just a favorite uncle or did you move on to being a father?”
It was a decent cover as far as answers went. Most people wouldn’t detect the trauma the casual remark hid, but he saw through her words even before she deflected the reference to her past back to him. “I’m still just the favorite uncle. Never married and no kids.”
He remembered how enraged Marcus Hunt had been when Trent delivered the news he wouldn’t be returning his wife. The man had gone ballistic, throwing and slamming things across the room—displaying some of the traits Chloe had alluded to during their short meeting. He was grateful her boys had avoided having such a man in their lives.
He never regretted not completing the job, because that day and the despicable display of a short-tempered man vocalizing countless threats toward his runaway wife, told Trent he’d absolutely made the right choice letting her go. Seeing her now, happy amongst friends, only validated his decision, years later.
“Do your boys see their father?” He immediately regretted his question as her expression shuttered.
Her face lowered along with her voice. “No.”
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to upset her. If his father was the sort of scumbag Marcus Hunt was, Trent wouldn’t have any relationship with him. Luckily, his dad had always been a good man and an incredibly supportive father.
“Good fathers are a gift. Unfortunately, they’re rare.”
She tilted her head, looking at him once more. “Yes, so I’ve discovered.” Then she quickly turned the tables back on him. “It’s a shame you never had kids of your own. You seem like one of the rare ones.”
It wasn’t that he disliked children. He loved his nieces and nephews, but he couldn’t have children and that was always an awkward thing to explain. He could always adopt, but that was outside of bachelor territory. “Maybe if I would’ve married. I’m still searchin’ for the right woman.” He added that last part without thinking. Something in his gut wanted her to know he was single.
“Well, in my book, marriage is highly overrated. Children, however, are amazing. I hope one day you find a woman who can share that gift with you.”
He hoped so, too, but it would never happen, at least not the children part. He had more than one doctor tell him kids weren’t in his future. “You don’t plan on marrying again?”
She laughed. “God no! Marriage and I don’t suit.”
Her smile enchanted him. He found himself stepping toward her again, his twitching fingers lifting to her face. She stilled and her laughter silenced. Placing his knuckle under her delicate chin he tilted her face to hold her gaze. Damn, she was pretty.
“Mr. Cole?” Her wine-scented breath teased his lips as she whispered his name. Her lashes slowly fanned upward, giving him a view of those luminous brown eyes. A dusting of cinnamon freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose.
“Call me Trenton.” He wanted to kiss her, to know if she tasted as good as she smelled. His body eased closer by mere degrees as his blood pumped heavily through his veins.
“Trenton…”
The sound of his first name on her lips sent a rush of blood to his cock. She shivered. He wasn’t holding her in place, merely touching her to see into her eyes. So pretty.
The entire situation almost seemed too good to be true, so he asked, “Not married then. Dating?”
Her chin trembled as she held his stare. “I… No. I don’t date.”
“That, Chloe, is a shame.” Yep. He was definitely thinking with the wrong head as he leaned in and brushed his mouth to hers. His lips danced, feather-light, across hers and she froze.
He eased back, still holding her chin and glanced in her wide eyes. There was an unknowing innocence staring back. “Kiss me, Chloe.”
He tilted his head and teased her lips with his, his heart thundering into overdrive as he wasn’t sure if this would land him in her bed—a place he’d very much like to visit—or with a Chloe shaped handprint across his cheek.
“Relax. I won’t bite.” Hard…
His tongue licked at the seam of her lips as he shifted closer, pressing his hard body against her soft front. He snaked his free hand around her back and used her sudden intake of breath to deepen the kiss and tug her closer. Fuck, she felt good in his arms.
He moaned, angling his head to taste more, but she still wasn’t kissing him back. “Should I stop?”
Her hand clung to his shirt as she stared up at him. He gave her a moment to break away, but she didn’t take it. So he softly traced his lips to hers again.
Her weight sank into him as she belatedly pressed her lips to his. His mouth curled into a smile as he stroked her tongue with his. His size engulfed her as she clung to his shoulders.
Her tongue shyly grazed his and he groaned, tightening his hold. Growing bolder, he lowered his hand to the curve of her ass—
There was a click and his eyes jerked open. They were no longer alone. Chloe tensed. Still tangled in his arms, she glanced around him as a man from the party stepped into the room.
Trent wanted to hold her there, but at the sight of company, she shifted away, her face flushed. He gritted his teeth, his dick heavy and pulsing behind the zipper of his slacks.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for my wife’s bag,” the intruder apologized.
It was one of Jade’s co-workers. Trent frowned. He’d been pretty observant of everyone there tonight and was almost certain this particular guest had arrived alone. Yet, he’d somehow missed Chloe’s entrance so he obviously wasn’t paying that close attention.
“Well, thank you for helping me find my coat, Trenton.”
What? His attention jerked back to Chloe as she slipped past him and exited the room, making a fast escape down the steps and to the front door. He glared at the man who interrupted them and went after her. But by the time he made it out front into the snow she was pulling away.