Page 12 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

He glances down at me. "Especially in places that look safe.That's when people let their guard down."

"That's an exhausting way to live," I say quietly.

"It's kept me alive," he counters, but there's no defensive edge to his tone.Just simple truth.

We reach the narrow bridge, and I pause in the middle, leaning against the railing to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water below.Jake stands beside me, closer than before, his arm almost brushing mine.

"Can I ask you something personal?" I venture, still gazing at the water.

"You can ask," he says, which isn't quite permission.

"Do you ever get tired of it?The constant vigilance, the planning for every contingency?"

He's quiet for so long I think he might not answer.Finally, he says, "Sometimes."

I turn to face him then, finding him already looking at me. I swallow to wet my throat."Like when?"

"Like now," he says, his voice low and rough.

The air between us grows heavy.He's so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can see the subtle pulse at the base of his throat.If I leaned forward just a few inches, our lips would meet.

"Jake," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for but needing... something.

He lifts his hand, and for one heart-stopping moment I think he's going to touch my face.Instead, he gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my skin.

"We should head back," he says, his voice controlled once more."Early start tomorrow."

The withdrawal feels like a physical loss, cold air rushing into the space where his warmth had been.I nod, not trusting my voice, and follow him back toward the path that will lead us to the B&B.

As we walk, I try to make sense of what just happened, or rather, what almost happened.The pull between us is becomingimpossible to ignore, a magnetic force drawing us closer despite all the reasons we should maintain distance.

Back at the Nighty Night, we pause at my door.Jake stands with his hands in his pockets, maintaining a careful distance.

"Goodnight, Trish," he says formally."Six AM departure tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Jake," I reply, equally formal on the surface, though my insides are anything but composed."Sleep well."

He turns to go, then pauses, looking back over hisshoulder."Lock your door," he says, his voice carrying a weight I don't fullyunderstand.

"I will."

Once inside my room, I lean against the closed door, my heartracing.Whatever is building between Jake and me has shifted tonight, evolving from simple attraction to something more complex and potentiallystupid.

But the most frighteningpart is thatI'm not sure I want to stopit.

5

JAKE

The Nighty Night Bed and Breakfast is silent as I make my way down the hall at 5 AM.Dawn and Jeremy likely won't be up for another hour, and Trish is hopefully still sleeping soundly behind her locked door.I'd verified the sound of the deadbolt clicking last night before I'd gone to my own room, unwilling to leave her security to chance even in this seemingly idyllic town.

I slip out the front door and into the pre-dawn darkness, needing the solitude of a morning run to clear my head.My self-control nearly shattered on that bridge last night, and that's unacceptable.I don't lose control. Ever. Not since Kandahar.

The streets of Heartstone are deserted at this hour, perfect for a five-mile loop to burn off the tension that's been building since I first laid eyes on Trish Walker in Toronto.I set a punishing pace, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, the steady impact of my feet on pavement,anything but the memory of her face in the moonlight and the soft whisper of my name on her lips.

By the time I return, the eastern sky has lightened to a pale lavender.I'm slightly startled to find Trish sitting on the B&B's front porch swing, a steaming mug cradled in her hands.

"You're up early," I say, slowing to a walk as I approach.

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