“YOUR NAME IS Jackson Hawke,” Doug Allen announced moments after escorting JD and Grace into an interview room. Of average height and weight, with average features and average brown hair in the expected FBI black suit, Doug waved for them to take seats.
JD let the name sink in, waited for it to trigger a flood of memories. All it brought was a sledgehammer beating in his head. An acknowledgment, of sorts, of its familiarity.
“Oh, my God.” Grace breathed.
He glanced her way to find her staring at him wide-eyed.
“What?”
“Jackson Hawke. Oh, my gosh, JD. You’re a billionaire.” Her eyes narrowed as she ran her gaze over him. “You shaved off your goatee. And you’re bigger in person. You’re not missing.” She turned that intense regard to Doug. “He’s not a missing person, or I would have put it together.”
Billionaire? Goatee? JD ran his fingers over his clean-shaven chin, still reeling from hearing his name. Nothing else seemed to compute.
“No.” Doug confirmed. His alert gaze, which was anything but average, landed on JD. “There’s no record of a missing-persons report. But he is part of an ongoing investigation in Las Vegas—an assault.”
She sat up straighter at that news. “That must be when he was stabbed.”
“That matches the report. I have some of the details here.” Doug pushed a file across the table. “You doing okay, Mr. Hawke?”
JD clutched for Grace’s hand under cover of the table, relaxed a little when her fingers curled around his. “I’m fine. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re an important man, Mr. Hawke—”
“JD,” he cut in. “Please call me JD.”
“Of course, JD. I haven’t broadcast this news yet, but the tech that helped with the face recognition probably has. I expect my bosses will appear soon. Let me just say now, the FBI is happy to lend any assistance we can. Are you under a medical doctor’s care?”
“Better, I’m under Grace’s care.” He didn’t feel like an important man. Didn’t particularly want to deal with the FBI top brass. But he was grateful for their help, so he’d do what he had to.
“Those are pretty good hands to be in.” Doug joked. “She always had the best scores in first aid.”
“You did okay.” Grace shot back. The friendship between the two was an easy camaraderie.
“I was better at putting holes in than plugging them up.”
“Doug is a crack shot,” Grace explained. She squeezed JD’s hand, a sign her chitchat was intended to give him time to assimilate all he’d learned. At least that’s how he took it. “The military tried to recruit him for sniper duty.”
“Yeah, not my thing.” Doug tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m not afraid to use my weapon, but being a sniper is too premeditated for my taste. Your game ‘Rogue Target’ is pretty intense.”
“My game?”
“You were right, JD,” Grace answered. “You are a geek. A supergeek. You create digital video games. ‘Pinnacle’ was your first, some argue your best. It launched you into the big leagues against Sony and Nintendo. ‘Unleashed’ is currently the number one game in the world, and number two is ‘Rogue Target,’ which came out last Christmas.”
“You own Pinnacle Enterprises,” Doug informed him. “An entertainment conglomerate. As well as Pinnacle Games, you own TV and radio stations, Pinnacle Comics, Pinnacle Hotels and the Strikers football team in Las Vegas. Your net worth is in excess of ten billion.”
“That’s right.” Grace tapped a finger off her forehead. “Pinnacle Enterprises. That’s why the hotel looked so familiar today. You own it. And the others we’ve been staying in.”
“You have a penthouse suite at the Pinnacle here in town. As well as in Las Vegas and New York. From what I’ve found, you have no residences outside the hotels. Your official address is your corporate address in Las Vegas.”
He had no home. For some reason that rang true.
A knock sounded at the door and it opened to admit a tall man, rounding around the middle. He had sharp brown eyes and steel-gray hair.
“Doug,” he said, his voice as deep as he was tall. “I hear we have a celebrity in the house today.”
“Yes, sir. This is Jackson Hawke and my friend Grace Delaney. Mr. Hawke is experiencing a memory lapse. We were able to assist him by providing his identity. JD, Grace, this is Ken Case, Special Agent in Charge.”
“I’m glad we could help. We’ve met a time or two at charity events around town.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
“Not a problem.” Ken drew out a chair and sat. “I’ll be truthful. They were brief introductions. You probably wouldn’t recall in any case. How did you come to lose your memory?”
Grace gave a brief rundown of events, managing to get the facts across without making him sound like a felon or a fool. Quite a talent she had there.
“The doctor is hopeful I’ll get my memory back within a couple of weeks.” JD added in the hopes of minimizing how lame he felt. He was a billionaire, and right this minute he couldn’t hold two thoughts together at the same time.
“With the new information from the Woodpark sheriff’s office yesterday, my theory is that after the altercation at the Red Wolf Tavern, the man who accosted JD followed him, ran him off the road and robbed him.”
Ken nodded, his eyes speculative as they assessed Grace. “It’s a likely scenario. Nice to meet you, Grace. Doug has mentioned you in passing. How did the election go?”
“I lost.” Blunt and to the point, Grace didn’t sugarcoat her response.
“Too bad. I have to think it’s their loss.” Ken appeared impressed with Grace, too. “Has Doug tried to recruit you to the wonderful world of the FBI?”
“He has.” A tinge of red tinted Grace’s cheeks. She wasn’t immune to the attention of the head man. “And I’ll admit I’ve been tempted. But I’ve lived my entire life moving at the whim of the navy, first as a military brat and then as an enlisted. For once I’d like to be able to choose where I live and what I do.”
“Hard to argue with that.” He stood. “If you change your mind, let me know. We’ll talk.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“In the meantime she works for me.” JD stood, as well. His head hurt and he was ready to go. “Can I take this report with me?”
“Of course.” Doug moved to hold the door.
“Good luck.” Ken offered his hand. “I hope you get your memory back soon. I want you to know you can count on the discretion of this office.” After shaking hands, he took off.
With the exit in sight, JD subtly ushered Grace in that direction. Doug walked with them. JD longed to escape, but he owed the man. “Thank you for your help. It’s a huge relief to have a name to claim.”
They stepped into the hall.
“You’re seriously going to pass up a career in the FBI because you’re tired of traveling?” Doug nudged Grace in the shoulder. “You were going to do your twenty.”
“I know. It’s different now I’m out. It’s not even the traveling. There’s still a large part of the world I want to see. But I want my own place. I want a sense of permanence.”
“I know your dad left you some money. Buy a house somewhere, make it your base and come to work for the FBI. You’ll have the continuity you want and a great career, as well.”
She rolled her eyes at Doug’s insistence. “I’ll think about it. But don’t get your hopes up. I really want a home.”
“Sherry gives me that, wherever I am. She was hoping to get together, do some catching up.”
JD tensed at the suggestion. Doug seemed like a nice guy, but JD wasn’t up to socializing at the moment. Of course, he could let Grace go on her own. Except, no, the idea of being without her cinched the tension tighter.
Impossible. Jealousy was beneath him. He knew it to the soles of his feet. Grace would call it another clue. He just accepted that he didn’t envy. He got his own, bigger and better than anyone else’s.
Good thing he was a billionaire.
“I would love that, but I can’t this trip. Maybe in a couple of weeks. I bet she’s getting big. Only two months to go, Daddy.”
Doug turned a little pale.
Was it petty of JD to feel a little satisfaction?
Grace laughed. “You’ll be fine.” She gave him a hug. “Thanks for your help.”
“I’m glad I could be of assistance.” He shook JD’s hand, slapped him on the arm. “Nice to have met you.”
“You’ve met a shell.” JD pointed out.
“JD!” Grace exclaimed.
But the bitter comment didn’t faze the other man.
“You’re in there. And who knows, this may be the better man. Either way, Grace is a pretty good judge of character. If she’s willing to put up with you, you must be worth knowing.”
JD glanced at Grace. She stood with her hands braced on her hips eyeing the two of them. Finally he nodded. “I believe in Grace.”
“So do I.” Doug jutted his chin in acknowledgment before reaching for the door handle. “Take care of our girl.”
And now he did feel petty.
* * *
“That was rude.” Grace left him to call the elevator. “And after he went out of his way to help you.”
“It was his job to help me.” JD—Jackson—slapped the file folder against his leg.
“Maybe. But without his help you’d have had to go through a lot of red tape and waited a week or more for half the information you got.” The elevator arrived and she stepped inside. “He didn’t have to have the information ready when we walked in the door or give you a copy.”
“So he’s a good guy.” He punched the button for the lobby. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I said thank you.”
“And then you disrespected everything he did with a dismissive comment.”
She’d been hurt and embarrassed when he cut Doug off. It felt personal.
And why wouldn’t it? Doug was her friend, doing a favor for her. He’d provided JD with the information he’d been looking for only to take a hit.
JD—Jackson—said nothing.
She reached the glass doors of the building entrance and fisted her way through. JD followed, flinching from the light. He shifted to put the sun at his back.
She spied the frown lines at the corners of his eyes and the anger fizzled away. How could she forget that he was in pain? An hour ago he’d confessed it got worse when his brain tried to connect his past with the present. He must be in agony.
The way he interacted with others without giving away his condition amazed her.
He stood, shoulders back, chin up, braced to take on the world. While speaking with the FBI, he’d handled himself with such quiet confidence she doubted Doug or Special Agent Case noticed he suffered from a massive head injury. Well, until the end when he got surly.
“Come on.” She strolled to the quick mart on the corner.
He kept pace. The fact he didn’t bother to ask where they were going confirmed her suspicion. It was all he could do to deal with the pain.
In the small market she found a pair of sunglasses with extra dark lenses and carried them to the counter. She started to pay, but JD drew out his new wallet. She’d given him more cash this morning. The clerk removed the tags and JD wore the glasses out of the store.
“Thank you. These help.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?” He started off for the Pinnacle where they’d left the SUV. “You were right. I was rude.”
“You were hurting.” She caught up to him, and wrapped her arm through his. He stiffened, but she didn’t let go. “And, I imagine, a bit disappointed. It would be hard not to hope your memories would come back once you learned your name.”
He shrugged. But she saw his jaw tighten.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, JD.”
He stopped and swung to face her. “What am I going to do, Grace?” His face revealed his distress. “I can’t step into the shoes of a billionaire and confess I lost my memory. The whole world would pity me. And that’s just the beginning of the problems. I can’t run a multibillion-dollar company. Not only would I not know what I was doing, I don’t even know who my employees are. Can you imagine the damage I’d do to my own company?”
“The first thing is not to panic.” She tugged on his arm, got him walking again. “You don’t have to rush into anything. First we’ll read through the file, get a feel for who you are. Then we’ll go from there. Research your people so you know them when you meet them. It’s going to be fine.”
A billionaire. Grace kept her gaze facing forward. She would never have guessed. Of course, the hugely expensive watch had been a clue. One she hadn’t ignored. She’d done a search for millionaires under forty and went through six months of Forbes magazine.
The problem was he had a reputation for keeping a low profile and protecting his privacy. So there weren’t that many photos of him out there to find, except for the odd photo snagged by the paparazzi at social events.
She’d probably looked right at a picture of him while doing her research and not recognized JD.
In all the pictures that came to mind he’d had long hair and a goatee. And his well-toned body must be one of the nation’s best-kept secrets, because she’d had no idea he was such a hottie.
Though now that she thought about it, his name had been linked with beautiful actresses and models.
Lucky for her he had no memory of them. Because, seriously, how did an average girl like her compete with actresses and models? Not that she was actually competing. She was helping him, that was all. They weren’t dating or anything.
Good thing. Because he was way out of her league.
He stopped again. Faced her again. “You’re going to stay with me?”
“You hired me, remember? I promised you two weeks.”
“What about the job with the FBI?”
“I’m not taking a job with the FBI.”
“You should. You’d be good at it. Doug wants you to. Case liked you. He’d help you. The job is there if you want it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Doug had a sound suggestion,” he argued, “buy a place, make it your base. It would give you the sense of permanence you crave, yet you’d be free to pursue a career where you can really make a difference.”
His insistence gave her pause. Maybe he was trying to give her an out. “So you’re releasing me from my promise to help you?”
“No.” The denial had no maybe attached to it. He took her hand and began walking again. “But the offer will be there when we’re done. You should think about it.”
“Maybe I will.” How could she not? But it didn’t feel right. She craved permanence and to her that meant having a place of her own to go home to each night.
At the hotel he walked right past the valet station. Surprised, she hurried to catch up.
“Where are you going?”
“Supposedly I have a room here. I want to check it out.”
“Without any identification?”
“I’m betting they know me. You suggested it yourself earlier.”
The law enforcement officer in her cringed at the notion of the hotel letting just anyone into JD’s—Jackson’s—suite. But then he wasn’t just anyone. He was Jackson Hawke. His identity hadn’t completely sunk in. She’d taken a billionaire to Walmart. Now that was cringe-worthy.
She matched her stride to his as they crossed the marble floor of the huge lobby. The furnishings were modern, the art abstract. As they drew closer to registration, she noted there was a line to check in both for regular guests and for VIPs. She glanced at JD’s profile, wondering what he would do. Would the owner of the hotel stand in line?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hawke. It’s good to see you again.” Ah. Saved by the bell. In this case, the bell captain. “May I assist you with luggage today?”
“No, thank you, Watkins.” JD replied smoothly. “I prefer to go directly to my rooms.”
“Of course. Let me get your key for you.” Watkins stepped around the registration desk and quickly returned with a keycard he presented to JD. “We were not advised you’d be staying with us. Your suite is ready as always, but there are no refreshments. I’ll take care of that immediately.”
“Thank you, Watkins.” JD shoved the key into his pocket. “Perhaps you’ll join us first. You can tell my companion, Ms. Delaney, of all the hotel’s features on the way to our room.”
“Certainly, sir.” Chest puffed out with pride, he ushered her and JD to the elevators where he inserted a keycard before pushing the button for the top floor. “As with all Pinnacle Hotels, the building is modeled after the silver sphere in ‘Unleashed,’ Mr. Hawke’s first game. It has thirty floors representing the thirty levels of the game. Each floor is smaller than the floor below it, creating the rising pinnacle. We have a shopping mall, a salon and spa, a gym complete with sauna, a pool and some of the best restaurants in the city.”
“Everything a girl could want,” Grace mumbled, overwhelmed by what JD owned.
“Including diamonds,” Watkins agreed. “Sullivan’s Jewels has a store in the lobby.”
“We noticed.” She smiled thinly, her shoulders going back. Was he inferring she was with JD because he could buy her diamonds?
“Watkins,” JD said softly from beside her, “You aren’t insulting my guest, are you?”
The chill in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“No, sir.” The man paled. “Never. I cherish my job. Everyone at the Pinnacle does. I would never disrespect you or your guest.” He turned to her. “I apologize if I offended. I just know my wife drools over Sullivan’s displays whenever she comes by.”
“They do have lovely items.” She conjured a smile, embarrassed she’d overreacted. “No harm done.”
JD lifted one dark brow.
Watkins cleared his throat. “I bought my wife a necklace from one of Rett Sullivan’s collections for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She wears it every chance she gets.”
“A wise choice, I’m sure,” JD stated, letting the poor guy off the hook.
The elevator doors opened feeding them into a large foyer. In the middle of the room, a glass pedestal table housed a towering flower arrangement in various shades of blue. Three archways led deeper into the suite. Watkins pressed a button on a remote, and royal blue drapes opened to display a glass wall highlighting the San Francisco skyline.
“I’ll see that refreshments are sent up.” Watkins replaced the remote and returned to the elevator. “May I make reservations at the steak house for you both? Or perhaps you prefer sushi tonight?”
“The steak house,” JD decided. “At eight.”
“Very good, sir. Please call me if you need anything.” The elevator doors closed and he was gone.
“I’m sorry if he upset you.” JD took her hand.
“It was a foolish reaction.” She pulled away, moving toward the skyline. “I guess all this glamour—” she swept an arm out to indicate the posh suite “—is throwing me a bit. I’m not used to penthouse suites.”
The slick, modern feel of the furnishings downstairs were repeated here, but where the blue was an accent color downstairs, it dominated here. The chairs and sofa were large, white and built for comfort, despite the sharp lines of their design. A low glass coffee table seemed to float atop a blue rug swirled through with silver and black.
Across the way stood a dining table that looked as if it came from the captain’s mess of the U.S.S. Enterprise and was large enough to seat half the crew. Beyond was a chef’s dream. The gourmet kitchen gleamed with copper and stainless steel.
And all of it opened onto the world.
“This is spectacular, JD. I don’t know how to take it all in.”
She felt his heat behind her and then he was turning her to face him. He lifted her chin on the edge of his hand until her gaze met his.
“How do you think I feel? I own all this. It blows my mind.” He released her chin to run his hand through his hair. “Almost literally. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”
“I’m sorry. I’m making this about me and that’s just wrong.” How could she forget this was about him? So she experienced a little discomfort. It was nothing to what he suffered. She cupped his face, stared into his eyes, automatically checking his pupils. They were even but pain lurked there. “We should go back to our hotel, let you rest before we move in here.”
Annoyance flooded the green irises. “I told you not to baby me.” He retreated to the dining table with his folder from the FBI.
“Then stop making me the bad guy.” She gritted her teeth at his obstinacy, swept over and grabbed the folder. “You have a head trauma. Even without the loss of memory, it’s going to take days to recuperate. You’ve learned enough until some of the pain has subsided. With the concussion you probably can’t read it anyway. And, no, you probably don’t wear glasses. I know you don’t want to keep hearing it, but a concussion isn’t something you can dismiss. It can mess with your vision.”
Tucking the folder under her arm, she strolled to the kitchen. She set her purse on the open counter separating the kitchen and dining room and opened the full-size refrigerator. No water, but Watkins had warned them there were no refreshments stocked. In fact, the refrigerator was off, so she turned it on and then moved to the cupboards, where she found a square glass made of fine crystal and ran water into it.
“Drink.” She set the glass on the counter. “You need to stay hydrated. I find when I’m taking pain medicine it helps to drink lots of water.”
He stalked up to the counter, pushed the water aside and held out his hand. “Give me the folder.”
“No.”
“I’m the boss.”
“Except when it affects your health. Then I have veto power. Veto.”
“Grace.”
“JD.” Shoot, shoot. She really needed to remember to use his name. Now she’d lost her edge. Pretending she hadn’t, she lifted her chin and countered. “Jackson.”
He pressed his lips together. “You can call me JD.”
“No, we both need to get used to Jackson.”
He couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t. But his hand still demanded the folder. Stubborn.
“Okay.” She took a page from the folder, glanced at it and set it in front of him. “Read me the last paragraph.”
He picked up the paper, looked at it, moved it forward, moved it back. “It’s referencing the Las Vegas property.”
“Yes. Now read the address.”
He scowled at the paper, then tossed it down. “Maybe I do need glasses.”
“No glasses, no contacts. Not according to your California driver’s license.” She tucked the page back in the folder. “It’s the concussion, Jackson. It’s not a weakness, it’s just something you have to get through. I know it chafes, but right now resting is the best thing you can do to help yourself.”
His eyes narrowed and focused intently upon her. Gaze locked on her, he prowled around the end of the counter, the action so predatory she forced her feet not to retreat.
When he got within a foot and kept coming, she planted a hand on his chest. It didn’t stop him. He clasped her hand, drew it down to the side and invaded her space.
“What are you doing?” She reared back.
“This.” He lowered his head and took her mouth with his.
She stiffened. This was not a good idea. But he stood back, claiming her with his mouth only. He lulled her by taking it slow, keeping it easy. He tilted his head to the perfect angle. His lips were moist, soft, mobile, exerting the right amount of pressure. He lingered, seducing her slowly, until she deepened the kiss by stepping into him.
His arms came around her pulling her against him and his tongue swept over her bottom lip seeking entrance. Closing her eyes, she sank into sensation. Her surrender motivated him to heighten the caress to the next level, building heat and passion until she strained against him, wanting to be closer, needing more.
She forgot to breathe and didn’t care. His touch mattered, his taste. A silly thing like air could wait.
He eased back. Chest heaving, he kissed her on the temple. Then released her.
She blinked at him. Was he stopping? Now? Uh-uh. She stepped into him again. This time he caught her hands to keep her from touching him. He shook his head, moved away.
“What the heck, JD?”
He reached for the glass of water and drained it. “You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t mean for it to go so far. After days of lacking memories and feeling like an invalid, I needed to do something that made me feel good and that I’m good at.”
She went still. “You used me?”