Colton Storm Warning Read online

  She caught herself. She hated when she fell into the trap so many in her circle did, dismissing everything between the coasts as flyover country. It was called the heartland for a reason, she reminded herself. And hadn’t the size of the group that had shown up to meet with her and discuss their concerns told her they cared as much as she did about what happened here?

  And yet, even with the awareness she worked so hard at, she still had almost slipped into that dismissive mindset. No wonder many people here disliked people like her.

  Enough to make threats to her parents? Apparently.

  But if she’d been going to let threats stop her, she would have given up her various causes long ago. Because whether she was trying to preserve something or change something, it seemed there was always someone who was against it. Sometimes they came around. Sometimes they did not. The times she liked best were when she and the opposing interest were able to reach a compromise that both found acceptable, if not perfect. Then she felt as if she’d truly accomplished something.

  Unlike now, stuck here in this room.

  That was it. She was done with this. She needed to get moving. She wanted to spend some time researching. One of the people at the meeting had worked at the local library and mentioned there were extensive references there about the very thing she was here for. The library wasn’t that far away, according to her map app. She could easily walk it. And she’d like a nice walk outside, some fresh air.

  She liked doing that in different places, seeing how different the air smelled. From the salt-tinged air of her home turf to the cool, exotic scent of a rain forest to the air here that seemed impossibly tinged with both dust and damp at the same time, she loved it all. She thought that maybe she would come back here in the spring, when the vast fields were green and growing. She wanted to see where so much of the food the nation ate was actually produced. And perhaps one day, she might write a paper on the subject of how each region of the world, probably each microclimate, had its own distinct scent. It would be interesting to visit places scientists said had the same climate and see if they smelled the same.

  She laughed at herself, but also promised her curious mind that someday she would take time for such esoteric projects.

  Decided now, she glanced in the mirror over the large dresser. The black jeans and mock turtleneck sweater would do, she decided, and her hair still had a little wave at the ends that brushed her shoulders, from having been in a bun to keep it out of her way while she traveled. She picked up the black hoop earrings from the top of the dresser and slipped them back in place, then grabbed up her jacket and the rather oversized bag she carried while traveling. She liked having her tablet at hand to make notes with as various ideas came to her. And she would need it at the library, anyway.

  She would stop at the desk and leave a message for this security person, saying where she’d gone and to meet her at the library. Or not, she added to herself with an inward smile.

  It was a pleasant ride down, and as the elevator doors opened at the bottom, she stood back to let the older couple she’d been chatting with on the way exit first. As she waited, she glanced around the lobby, her gaze snagging on a man coming in through the glass front doors. Nice, she thought. No, better than nice, she amended, as she watched him stride across the lobby. Dark hair, short and a little tousled looking, tall—very tall, a couple of inches over six feet, she guessed, and...well, built. Or well-built. Lord, she was grinning at her own silly mental jokes now.

  “Don’t blame you, honey,” the woman who had introduced herself as Ella Roth whispered, looking back over her shoulder. “That’s a fine hunk of man.”

  Ashley felt herself flush slightly. She wasn’t in the habit of being so obvious. But that was indeed a fine hunk of man. She wondered where he was visiting from. He didn’t have the air of a big city guy, but of someone used to the wide-open spaces. She couldn’t quite picture him walking between towering skyscrapers.

  They matched, she realized suddenly. Beneath a lightweight jacket, he was also in black jeans and a black-knit shirt, although his was a crew style. Which was nice, because it would be a shame to hide that very muscled male neck. And the way he moved, making her all too aware of what was obviously a powerful body beneath the clothes...

  There she was, flushing again. She needed to get outside in cooler air. Her weather app said it was about fifty-six outside, not much warmer than it likely would be at home. That would do it.

  Maybe she should wait until he was gone before approaching the desk to leave her message. She didn’t want to be caught blushing at the sight of a total stranger. But the idea of dodging said stranger didn’t sit well with her. And he was headed toward her.

  Toward the elevators, idiot. Not you.

  But then his gaze locked on her. There was no other word for it. And he did, in fact, head directly toward her. As if he’d recognized her. Knew her.

  Belatedly it hit her. Oh, surely not. This couldn’t be the guy, could it?

  Of course it could. Look at him. Isn’t he the living image of what every woman would want as a...protector? A bodyguard?

  She sighed inwardly. Kansas might not be the first place people thought of for top-notch security firms, but if this guy was any example, they obviously could grow them right.

  “Ms. Hart,” he said, as he came to a halt before her, holding out a photo ID. He had a voice that sent a ripple through her. Deep, and the tiniest bit rough. “I’m with Elite Security.”

  Of course you are.

  She saw Mrs. Roth, walking toward the lobby, look back at her and smile, giving her a thumbs-up gesture. She resisted rolling her eyes.

  “You going to check my ID?” he asked, and her gaze snapped back to his face. He looked just as good up close. Better, in fact, with those dark blue eyes and annoyingly thick eyelashes. And that jaw.

  “Don’t need to,” she said with a barely suppressed sigh.

  “You always need to,” he said, rather sternly.

  It didn’t seem wise to explain that she didn’t have to because all of this was just her luck. Not only having to worry about her parents’ fears, and tolerate the only thing that would ease them, but end up with a guy who looked like he’d walked off the cover of a men’s fitness magazine. She would have said some Hollywood tabloid, except he looked too tough for that make-believe world.

  But then she laughed silently at herself, knowing anyone and everyone would laugh in turn at the idea of Ashley Hart moaning about her luck. She’d won life’s lottery when she was born not only into the Hart family but to two people who adored her as much as they adored each other, which was saying something.

  “Yes, you’re quite right,” she said. “I was...thinking of something else.”

  She looked at the ID card with the logo of an encircled globe in the upper left corner. Were they that big that they covered the world? Then she hit the photo, a typical ID card picture with no expression, just that chiseled face and those eyes, looking...annoyed. At having to stay still long enough to have his picture taken? At having it taken at all? Or was annoyance just his default mode? She imagined he could get away with a lot of it, with those looks.

  She looked back at the living man before her, not that she really needed to compare him to the image; there was no mistaking him. Something in the way he was looking at her made her want to look away again. And in fact she did, ashamed of herself even as she did so.

  This was going to be a definite pain.

  “And,” he added, “you’re forgetting to ask for your code word.”

  Her gaze shot back to his face. Now she was thoroughly annoyed. Not at him, but at herself. How often had her parents lectured her never to trust anyone who came to her claiming to be from them who didn’t have the code word? It had been part of her life since she’d been old enough to understand, but somehow this man had blown it right out of her mind.

&nb
sp; She stiffened her spine. “You’re quite right. What is it?” The moment she asked, she knew this would be amusing.

  “Fluffy.” She’d been right. Even the look on his face as he said it was amusing.

  “My childhood pet,” she said, unable to resist grinning at him. “I was seven.”

  “I’ve got no room to talk. My dog was Ripper.”

  “How very male of you.”

  “Says the girl who named her...cat? Dog? Fluffy.”

  “Actually, she was a turtle.”

  He blinked. “You named a turtle Fluffy?”

  She nodded, still grinning. “Because she wasn’t.”

  She saw his lips start to curve, actually saw him fight it. “At seven, how did you even know it was a she?”

  “My dad and I worked it out. He made me look everything up and go through it step by step, length of shell, shape of plastron, length of front claws, that kind of thing.”

  “Don’t they live a very long time?”

  “They can, yes. Fluffy’s still going strong, although she’s teaching at my old elementary school now.”

  He didn’t fight the smile this time, and she felt like she’d been given an award, which sent up a red flag in the back of her mind. But before she really recognized the warning for what it was, the name printed on the card, with the bold signature above it, very belatedly registered. Tyler Colton.

  Jolted, she looked back at him.

  “Colton?”

  “That’s what it says,” he said flatly, his amusement and his smile vanishing.

  Her first thought was the former president, and without much thought—a rarity for her—the question poured out. “Any relation to the—”

  “Yes.” He said it bluntly, and with obvious irritation. “But I’m not in the family business.”

  She gave yet another inward sigh. No wonder her parents had decided upon this company. Nothing like having someone connected to a former president looking out for your, as her father put it, strong-willed daughter.

  Chapter 3

  Ty was having a little trouble. One of his strengths, one that Eric had helped him hone and believe in, was reading people. He was good at telling when they were diverting, avoiding or downright lying. But at the moment, he couldn’t seem to focus on those aspects of the exquisite woman before him.

  He estimated she was about five-seven, and slender. Not skinny but lanky, like a spring foal who’d figured out her legs at last. Unlike in the photo, her hair was down, and it gleamed as if catching what light there was in the elevator alcove. And her eyes were the kind of deep rich brown that seemed so mysterious, and yet they held a sharp, observing intelligence only a fool would overlook. Her features were delicate—except for that luscious mouth.

  The mouth he was staring at. He slammed back to reality and cursed at himself silently. Some security expert you are.

  “—good friend of my father,” she was saying.

  He’d entirely missed the first part of that. “Your father,” he said, trying to cover.

  She nodded. “They met when he was considering running and going around the country, assessing support. My father was the one who urged him to do so. They’ve stayed good friends, even now that he’s out of office.” She smiled. “He was a good president, I think.”

  Joe Colton. She was talking about Joe Colton. That was why she’d reacted to the name. He’d thought she’d heard about the lawsuit and all the problems Colton Construction was having these days. Problems he would much prefer to be digging into, despite being warned off by Jordana and her partner, Reese Carpenter. He should have known better. Why would their little—relative to her life, anyway—problems matter to the likes of her?

  “He’s a pretty distant connection,” he said, his voice rather gruff as he tried to cover his discomfiture at having so completely blown this initial contact. “I don’t have anything to do with that branch, really.” It’s enough dealing with my own.

  “Yet you felt defensive about it?” she asked with one elegant brow arched at him.

  Okay, now she had him thoroughly embarrassed. Because he had kind of snapped at her. “No. I mean...I was referring to my family, not him. My father’s company is...in kind of a mess at the moment.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I saw some reports about...Colton Construction, right?”

  He grimaced. “Yes. It’s kind of the main topic around here lately.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sounded like she meant it.

  “No need.” He tried to get a grip. “But where were you going? You were supposed to stay in your hotel room until I got there.”

  “I felt trapped in that room.”

  “You’d have really felt trapped if that guy who threatened you had been on that elevator.”

  Her chin came up. “But he wasn’t. And Mr. and Mrs. Roth were delightful. Besides, I was only headed to the library.”

  “Without protection.”

  “It’s not that far. I wanted the walk.”

  “It’s not that close. Two, two and a half miles. And you were going to walk. Alone.” She shrugged. He studied her for a moment. “You’re not taking this at all seriously, are you.” It wasn’t really a question, because he knew she wasn’t, he could feel it.

  “My parents are...protective.”

  “You’d make quite a target under normal circumstances. Doing what you do just raises your profile. It’s understandable they feel protective.”

  “Too protective.”

  “From what I gathered, I doubt they believe there is such a thing.”

  She gave him a look that seemed nothing more than curious. “Is that how your parents are?”

  “No.”

  She let out a short breath that verged on disgusted. “Why? Because you’re a big strong man?”

  He couldn’t help it, the corners of his mouth twitched. “I am. But it’s more because we don’t hold a huge chunk of the world’s wealth, tempting slimeballs who want to get rich the easy way.”

  “That has nothing to do with this,” she said, sounding rather offended. “This is strictly me.”

  “You can attract your own threats, is that what you’re saying?”

  She blinked. Looked as if she were winding up for a fierce retort. But then suddenly, unexpectedly, she smiled. Widely. And it was devastating.

  “Touché, Mr. Colton. It’s been known to happen,” she said. “I seem to have a tendency to anger certain kinds of people.”

  “The kind who would like you to mind your own business?”

  “But what I get involved in is my own business. Mine and everyone who gives a damn.” A crusader. Dear God, Eric had stuck him with a crusader. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the library. I have some research to do.”

  “Research?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a sideways look. “I don’t rush into these things blind, Mr. Colton, nor jump on any passing bandwagon. My name bears weight, so I make sure I do my homework.”

  “A responsible do-gooder, huh?”

  She drew up sharply. “You say that as if you think those two terms are mutually exclusive.”

  “Sometimes they are. And I know that from personal experience.”

  She looked about to say something else, then stopped. “I need to be on my way,” she said, and he knew that wasn’t what she’d been going to say. He wondered what had made her change her mind.

  “My car’s out front.”

  “I told you, I want the walk.”

  “You’ll be safer in the car.”

  She smiled at him sweetly. Too sweetly. “Isn’t that your job, to keep me safe wherever I am?”

  The expression, and that syrupy tone that matched it, grated on him. But he kept his voice level. “And your job is not to make that impossible by being stubborn about it.”

 
“Not the most diplomatic approach I’ve ever seen.”

  “You want a diplomat, you’d better head back home.” And someone else can take over this job I didn’t want in the first place. “I understand your family hangs out with that bunch.”

  She looked, finally, perturbed. “I see why you avoid the presidential branch,” she said coolly. “They’d likely throw you out.”

  “Likely,” he agreed. “I don’t have the Machiavellian instinct needed for that crowd. The question is, is that a point for or against me?”

  She studied him for a moment. He saw...something in those dark brown eyes change, as if she’d reached some sort of conclusion. “Well,” she said, her tone quite different now, lighter, “since that’s something I lack as well, I suppose I’ll have to say it’s in your favor.”

  He couldn’t help it, her words made him smile. He hadn’t expected that. “I have trouble believing you couldn’t swim in that world, if you wanted to.”

  Her eyes widened, and he wondered why. He hadn’t meant it as a criticism, except maybe of that world of politics, which he loathed. It was part of the reason he’d walked away from the family business; there was too much of that involved for his taste.

  Then, quickly, she recovered. “I could swim with sharks, too, but I’d expect consequences.”

  And this time he laughed, almost unwillingly. And apparently surprised her, since she nearly gaped at him. But he pointed out, “In one sense, that’s what you do, anyway. And right now there’s one circling, so to ignore it would be foolhardy.”

  She looked strangely pleased, then thoughtful. And finally she sighed audibly. “All right. The car it is.”

  So she could see reason. He felt suddenly better about this whole thing. “Good. I’m out front.”

  She only nodded and started walking that way. He instinctively scanned the lobby, but there was no sign of anyone suspicious. Of anyone watching her, other than the desk clerk who was simply looking with obvious male appreciation. And he couldn’t blame the guy for that. She was as beautiful as that photograph showed, in a big city sort of way.