Secret Vows

“Sometimes your face is an open book, Jason. You’re not that hard to read.”

He sobered. “Is that so?”

Greer nodded.

“What am I thinking about now?”

Her somber expression mirrored his. “I don’t read minds, just faces.” She didn’t add body language because that would give too much of herself away. Dangling the keys to the pickup, she dropped them into Jason’s outstretched hand. “Do you want me to pull your truck into the garage?” she asked him.

“No. It can stay here.” Cupping her elbow, he led her around the pickup to the passenger side, opening the door and assisting her onto the seat.

Greer felt like a small creature unable to move for fear of attracting the attention of a predator when her eyes met Jason’s. She opened her mouth to tell him that he could close the door now, but the words were locked in the back of her throat as she found herself caught in a trance from which she did not want to escape. His large expressive brown eyes were framed by long black lashes better suited on a woman. Her gaze went to the short black strands on his head and lower to the emerging stubble. There was something about Jason that was quietly dangerous, and she knew she had to be careful or she would find herself emotionally in over her head. She’d known special agents who’d become involved with their targets because it had been the only way they could secure the evidence needed for an arrest. Fortunately it wasn’t Jason but Chase who’d become her person of interest. The soporific spell was shattered when Jason finally closed the door.

* * *

It was in a moment of absurdity that Jason had imagined what it would be like to make love to Greer. He didn’t know whether the thought had come from prolonged periods of isolation, celibacy or the sacrifices he’d made for his jealous mistress.

He slipped behind the wheel and started up the truck. The engine roared to life, then purred like a contented cat. Shifting into Reverse, he backed out of the driveway. The gears shifted smoothly as he maneuvered onto the local road.

“This baby is sweet.” Jason gave Greer a quick glance. “Do you think Bobby would be willing to sell it to me?”

Greer gave him a stunned look. “Why would you want this when you have a top-of-the-line SUV?”

Jason shifted into a higher gear. “I don’t own a vehicle. I’m renting the Range Rover.”

“What about your car or cars in Florida?”

“I rent there, too.”

A slight frown formed between her eyes. “Why don’t you own a car?”

Lifting his shoulders under a white cotton pullover, Jason concentrated on the narrow winding road. “I don’t know. Owning a car isn’t something that turns me on. I merely view them to get me from point A to B.”

“If that’s the case, then why would you want to buy this one?”

“Because it’s a classic. There’s a lot of history in old cars.”

Shifting slightly on the seat, Greer stared at his distinctive profile. “Do you feel the same about music?”

“Yes and no. I’m somewhat partial to the music from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’90s.”

“What about rap and hip-hop?”

Jason shifted again when he came to a steep hill. “I like both. There’s something about old-school music that connects and reflects the sign of those times. If you sit and listen to the protest songs from the ’60s, it’s like a referendum on change in order for the country to move in another direction.”

“Protest music and old cars. Did anyone ever tell you that you were born too late?” Greer asked, smiling.

Jason laughed softly. “I hear it all the time.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not in the least.” He downshifted as he turned off to the private road bordered on both sides with towering trees and up a steep hill to Bear Ridge Estates. Slowing, Jason stopped at the gatehouse because he’d left his remote sensor to open the gate in the Range Rover.

The armed guard leaned out the window, smiling. “Nice truck, Mr. Cole. What year is it?”

“Nineteen fifty-six.”

The guard pushed a button on a console, activating an eight-foot electronic gate. “Have you thought about selling it?”

“No,” Jason and Greer chorused, and then shared a smile. The gate opened and he drove through. “You see I’m not the only one who wants to buy Johnny B. Goode II.”

Greer stared out the side window at the sprawling Colonial with meticulously landscaped lawns and gardens. It was minutes before she saw another house, this one with a five-car garage. The Georgian-style mansion boasted eight chimneys. Bear Ridge Estates overlooked the Hood River Valley and she tried imagining waking up year-round to the lush views of the beautiful fertile valley with fruit trees and the magnificence of Mount Hood.

She didn’t know what to expect Jason’s home to look like when seeing the others they’d passed, but it wasn’t the three- and four-story ostentatious residences which were more a showplace than a home for family living. It sat in a sunny knoll amid the fragrant pine forest. Its design was reminiscent of a hunting lodge. The attached three-car garage was constructed in the same design as the main house.

“Don’t move,” Jason said when she made the motion to open her door. “I’ll help you down.”

Well all right, she thought, waiting as he got out and came around the truck. Finally she’d met a man who’d help a woman in and out of a vehicle without her asking. It was a pet peeve of hers, and she and her ex had argued constantly about it when dating, yet she’d foolishly married him because the sex was good.

Jason extended his arms and she slid off the seat, her hands on his shoulders as he lowered her effortlessly to the ground. She hadn’t missed the flexing of his solid muscles under her fingertips when she held on to him. His clothes had artfully concealed a well-conditioned physique. She reached for her tote. Resting a hand at the small of her back, he escorted her to a side entrance. Lifting the door handle, Jason punched in a code.

Greer smiled up at him when he pushed open the door. “It’s nice not having to use a key.” She followed him into a mud/laundry room with a slate floor. There were built-in shelves filled with red, white and blue canvas bins.

“I have an unfortunate habit of misplacing my keys.” He sat down on a bench and removed his shoes. “I have socks that will fit you if you want to take off your boots.”

“Thank you.”

She sat on the bench, unzipped the four-inch booties, wiggling her toes. The polish on her left big toe had chipped. She’d set aside Mondays to drive into town for a day of beauty that included hair and a mani-pedi. Jason pulled out a bin labeled Socks and handed her a pair of white golf socks.

“Have you had breakfast?”

Her head popped up. “No.”

Jason held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Neither have I. We’ll talk while I cook.”

“You cook?”

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