A Deal With the Devil Read online

  He smirked as he leaned against the wall. “Happy to see me?”

  Happy was not the word she would’ve chosen.

  “What the hell Amanda” —his was the tone you’d take if scolding a naughty five-year-old— “I know you turned off your cell because Kate and I have called nonstop for the last two hours. And I noticed you unplugged the phone downstairs. Nice.” He raised a brow. “So have you stopped answering doors now, too?”

  Between friends, his attitude could be considered teasing. But since they weren’t friends—weren’t anything—his amusement seemed to mock her. And, it pissed her off.

  “Please.” She folded her arms. “When did you start breaking and entering? You might’ve tried ringing the doorbell.” Or not coming at all.

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve been outside freezing my ass off for the last fifteen minutes, knocking, ringing the doorbell, yelling like a total fool. When you didn’t answer, I had no choice but to break in.” He pointed his thumb toward the first floor kitchen. “You’re paying for the window, by the way.”

  Her eyes narrowed. In your dreams.

  As she studied him, her mood grew darker. He seemed far too cocky and comfortable for her liking and she didn’t even attempt to keep the edge out of her voice as she said, “What are you doing here?”

  His expression hardened and judging from the look in his eyes and the set of his jaw, she could tell he meant business. “I’m bringing you back to Chicago.”

  “Bringing me . . .” her voice trailed off as she stared at him, incredulous. She cleared her throat and tilted her head. “You’re kidding, right?” She hadn’t seen him in a year—not since the night he’d dumped her. So why would he barge in and ruin her weekend? And nearly give her a heart attack.

  If he was back on a few weeks leave, surely he could think of better things to do with his time. Like breaking hearts or destroying dreams. He was good at that.

  “I’m dead serious. It’s not safe here with this storm on the way. If you haven’t figured that out, clearly someone needs to point it out for you.”

  His smirk hinted that he’d guessed the direction of her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed. I’d like to kick his ass. Her lips curved up as she considered a few potential methods.

  “Kate sent me. Sam would’ve come, but his plane got delayed in New York.” He shrugged. “So, here I am.”

  Her smile faded, her suspicions confirmed. Her BFF had turned traitor. Or she’d lost her mind. Maybe both.

  “By the way” —he gestured to the hairdryer still grasped in one hand but now dangling by her side and his tone matched his wicked grin as he said— “were you planning to hit me with that thing?”

  Her mouth twisted. Whoever had said that time healed all wounds had lied. Or maybe her wounds were still too fresh. All she knew was—while she’d never been the violent sort—she was pretty sure giving him a good whack would do wonders for her mood.

  Rather than follow through with that twisted fantasy, she calmly set the dryer on the counter and battled the simultaneous urge to dash for her cell. She had a few choice words to share with Kate and it was all she could do to restrain herself.

  “As soon as you dry your hair, we’ll get out of here.” His tone conveyed the confidence of a man accustomed to command.

  It raised her hackles even more.

  She drew in a long breath and counted to five before she said, “I just got here and I’m not leaving until Sunday night, but I’ll be sure to lock the door behind you.” This would be right after she shoved him outside.

  Jake’s voice chided her in that slow, maddeningly rational tone she detested so much and which he had always pulled out during their most heated arguments. “Amanda, this is a serious storm. We’re going to get three feet of snow.” He held up three fingers to emphasize the point as he repeated, “Three feet.”

  I know how many fingers three is.

  Somehow, she resisted the impulse to point that out. Instead, she placed one hand on her cheetah-clad hip and waved the other imperiously as she said, “Oh please. I heard those weather reports too, but it’s November.” She arched a brow. “Do you seriously think we’ll get that much snow?”

  Jake’s eyes bugged out. “Have you looked outside in the last hour?”

  She ignored him and maintained her resolve despite the tendrils of wet hair stuck to her face and rivulets of water dripping down her back. As a wayward droplet trickled down her cheek, she flicked it away and lifted her chin.

  He started to speak but she cut him off. She wasn’t listening to any more lectures.

  “Look, I’m sorry you drove all the way up here.” In truth, she wasn’t the least bit sorry, but she was trying to be polite. In her view, he should have known better than to come. “I suggest you head right on back to Chicago. I can take care of myself,” she said. Then she bent over and towel-dried her hair with enough force to make herself wince as she plotted the revenge she’d unleash upon Kate.

  Jake strode to the window and pulled aside the curtain. “Stubborn as ever I see.”

  He had no idea.

  She shot him the evil eye, partially concealed behind her curtain of dark curls. Then she stood up straight, flinging her wet tresses back in dramatic fashion. Droplets of water sprayed onto the mirror as her gaze came to rest on the chiseled profile that had so captured her the night they met. While he held top billing as the last man on Earth she ever wanted to see again, Amanda couldn’t make herself look away. He had shattered her romantic illusions of a future together twelve months before, but there was no denying Jake Lowell was still a total hottie.

  Her job, brother, money problems and impending doomsday birthday had her resembling the walking dead but somehow, spending the last year in a war zone had made Jake even hotter. Life was not fair.

  Jake turned and his lips curved up as he caught her staring.

  Amanda’s cheeks grew warm and to hide her embarrassment, she grabbed her overnight bag and dug around inside. “When did you get back?”

  “This morning,” Jake said, as he scratched his jaw and watched her dig—a hint of a smile lit his eyes. “Need some help?”

  She always fidgeted when nervous and hated that he knew her so well. To dispel what she felt sure he was thinking—that his presence had gotten to her—she grabbed the first thing her fingers encountered and held it up like a trophy. “Here it is!” Then, she picked up the dryer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me” —she arched a brow and eyed his reflection in the mirror— “I’m going to dry my hair and then curl up with a glass of wine.”

  Determined to ignore him, she stared straight ahead and turned on the dryer. But despite best efforts, her eyes locked on his broad shoulders as he ambled out the door. She forced herself to look away and, as her gaze drifted back to her reflection in the mirror, she scowled.

  What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she standing there looking like a weak wimpy lovelorn loser? The man was a womanizer. A breaker of hearts. A destroyer of dreams. She knew this. So why moon over him like a love sick teenager?

  Stop it. Moon over Chris Hemsworth. There’s an US Weekly tucked in your tote bag downstairs and your boy, Chris is on the cover in full Thor regalia. Forget about Jake Lowell. The man is the devil.

  As irritated by her own weakness as she was by Jake’s uninvited presence, she called, “Drive carefully!” Her calculated tone—all faux sweetness and insincerity—made her feel better. Sort of. Given the way he’d dumped her, he deserved a whole lot worse.

  As his footsteps retreated, Amanda expelled a long, exasperated groan. Jake Lowell was in town. Great. And Kate had sent him to rescue her. Rescue her. She shook her head in disgust. While consistent with the sort of retro romantic delusions she’d come to expect from Kate, she still found the notion hard to believe. She wasn’t rescuing material and after a decade of friendship, Kate should know this.

  Amanda scraped the brush through her hair s
o hard; it pulled out a small clump of curls. She slammed the brush on the counter and rubbed her head as she tried to determine who to blame for ruining her weekend.

  Jake should have refused when Kate asked him to come. After all, sparing feelings and rescuing ex-girlfriends wasn’t something a commitment-phobe like Jake would typically place much value on. And while she was creative, even her wild imagination couldn’t concoct a logical excuse for Kate’s behavior. Of course, nothing about Kate could be considered logical. Her southern belle roots ran deep—especially where romance was concerned—and so, staging a dramatic knight in shining armor rescue would be right up her alley.

  Come to think of it, she should have suspected Kate’s motives the instant her friend offered up use of the cabin—especially since she’d just finished the redecorating job. She and Sam hadn’t even stayed here yet. She sighed and vowed to deal with Kate later.

  Jake was the more troubling part of this scenario. Granted, he never missed an opportunity to rescue, but his Navy SEAL instincts—finely honed after thirteen years with the elite fighting force—must have kicked into protector overdrive to make him go this far out of his way. When they’d been together, she had thought his protectiveness cute and his alpha male ways super sexy—at least most of the time. But now, his caretaking attitude just irritated her.

  Did he really imagine—a year after dumping her—that he could charge in like a knight on a white horse or something?

  The over-the-top rescue scenario held all the hallmarks of a Kate intervention and she could’ve guessed her friend’s involvement even if Jake hadn’t fessed up. But her friend had missed one important little detail. Amanda didn’t need anyone’s help and most especially, not his.

  She’d rather be buried alive in the three feet of snow they were predicting, then stuffed and put on display like those animals in the Natural History Museum who’d instantly frozen during the onset of the last Ice Age. She could envision her bedraggled, cheetah robe-clad body, stuffed with a placard underneath that read: Twenty-First Century Spinster Frozen Alive. Or some other equally depressing label. Hopefully they’d style her hair and use a good makeup artist and maybe leave out about five pounds of stuffing.

  Amanda pursed her lips. She wasn’t going to let Jake Lowell ruin her weekend. He needed to leave. Now. And then he needed to stay out of her life forever. He shouldn’t find it too hard as he’d long ago made it perfectly clear it’s exactly what he wanted.

  Chapter Two

  alf an hour later, Amanda flounced into the living room and wasn’t surprised to find Jake lounged on the sofa, his long legs stretched out as he watched the evening news. Listening had never been one of his strengths.

  She breezed by, glaring at the back of his head but determined not to let him see the extent to which his continued presence irritated her. Remembering his earlier comment about the weather, she stopped in front of the living room window and lifted a slat on the wood blinds.

  Her eyes grew round and she reared her head back in surprise. In the hour since she’d arrived, the world had turned white. There must be at least three inches of snow on the ground and it was still coming down so hard she could barely make out the silhouette of her car in the driveway.

  Amanda chewed the inside of her lip. This was not good.

  Sure there’d been storm warnings, but she’d dismissed them. Midwest Novembers typically brought any number of false weather alarms and like every other Chicagoan she’d figured what’s a little snow? She’d envisioned flurries—the picturesque kind that blew about like a shaken snow globe, but never really accumulated. The kind they usually got in November. Clearly, not a good move.

  She turned and tried to sound composed as she said, “Wow. It’s getting bad out there.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” He laced his fingers behind his head and crossed one foot over the other which only added to his I-told-you-so attitude.

  She bristled, but before she could respond, the TV reporter mentioned the weather. Jake lifted the remote and turned up the volume while Amanda perched on the arm of a nearby chair, her eyes glued to the fifty inch flat screen.

  The massive storm had dumped more than two feet of snow in Minneapolis and was headed to the Lake Geneva and Milwaukee areas where it was expected to deliver up to three feet over the next few days. The highway patrol’s weather advisory warned drivers to get to their destinations and stay off the roads until the storm passed.

  Amanda chewed on a fingernail. If she didn’t leave now, she might get stuck here and that was a complication she could live without. Her work schedule for the coming week could best be categorized as a nightmare and her money situation was simply too out of control. She literally couldn’t afford to disappear for a week.

  She gazed broodingly into the empty fireplace, silently cursing the weather gods responsible for ruining her weekend. After a few minutes, she turned to Jake and said, “I guess we should head back.”

  He didn’t even glance in her direction. He didn’t need to. She could sense the internal gloating from across the room.

  Forty-five minutes later, he had boarded the window smashed during his break-in, stowed her bags in the trunk and was five minutes into what she feared might be an endless lecture on safe snow driving. It took every ounce of self-restraint to resist rolling her eyes, but finally—just before she lost it completely—Jake’s lecture mercifully ended. And the instant it did, Amanda didn’t hesitate. She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, pulling her coat more tightly around her as she eyed the snow with trepidation. The storm seemed to have picked up steam in the past hour and there looked to be at least six inches on the ground. She felt a small stab of fear as she contemplated the dangers they might encounter on the road. Still, given the alternative, she’d rather take her chances.

  She glanced at Jake, who looked about to launch into driving lesson number two and decided she’d endured enough. She held up a hand to stop him and then, teeth rattling, she hugged her waist while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Jake, I’m from Chicago. I know how to drive in the snow. Besides, it’s too cold out here to stand around. Let’s go before it gets even worse.”

  Amanda stomped down the steps and marched toward her silver Audi A4.

  “Just follow me,” he shouted above the wind as he trailed behind. “I’ll drive slowly. Remember to keep a safe distance, but always have me in your—”

  She slammed the car door, turned on the ignition and cranked the heat to full blast as she watched Jake trudge to his SUV.

  He took the protector thing to a whole new level, which probably came with the territory for a SEAL. But given their break-up, she found his caretaking attitude irritating as hell. She’d always been super independent, but since the night her parents had died—she’d been just nineteen—she’d grown even more self-sufficient. She hadn’t been given a choice. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from big sister to single parent.

  In her opinion, she’d done a pretty good job, too—especially considering she’d been a kid herself when she’d taken on the responsibility. She’d maneuvered through a million difficult situations and, when she looked back, was proud of the way she’d handled most of it. So pretty much the last thing she needed right now was her ex-boyfriend swooping in for a dramatic rescue that didn’t even need to happen.

  She didn’t need Jake’s help—or anyone else’s—with anything.

  Amanda adjusted the rearview mirror. Having made peace with her decision to leave, she just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge or Wisconsin or whatever. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting snowbound with the man who had kicked her to the curb.

  The lights on Jake’s black Escalade flipped on as his engine fired up. Amanda buckled her seatbelt and focused on following at a safe distance, though he drove much faster than she would have liked.

  The combination of the pitch-black night and her Audi’s extra bright headlights turned the snow into a blinding white sw
irl. But they made steady progress for several miles until, suddenly, Jake’s brake lights blazed and, without warning, his truck jerked to the right. The maneuver caused his SUV to fishtail.

  Before she could react, the cause of his problem came into view. Her eyes grew round and she sucked in a sharp breath when she saw the thick branch lying across the road, blocking her path. Operating on pure instinct, Amanda yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, barely missing it. The action sent her car into a skid. Panicked, she hit the brakes harder than she should have and the car started to spin.

  Amanda held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she spun toward Jake’s SUV. Somehow they avoided a collision, but she opened her eyes just in time to see Jake’s Escalade slam into a ditch on the other side of the road.

  Pulse racing, she took her foot off the gas, guided her car onto the shoulder and put it in park. After peeling her fingers from the steering wheel, she rested her head against the back of the seat, panting harder than she had after climbing Heart Attack Hill during her first—and last—5K run.

  She hated running—almost as much as she despised her lingering feelings for Jake. He’d dumped her, so why was she still lusting after him? It was time to get over his worthless, womanizing ass.

  Amanda drew in a long, shaky breath and, as her breathing slowed, she peered through the smeared window and driving snow, expecting to see him headed across the road. As a SEAL, a little fender bender wouldn’t stop him.

  But as several seconds passed with no Jake, she grew concerned. Something was wrong. Her fingers shook as she unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the door, her eyes glued to his vehicle. Still no Jake. She felt sick as she tightened the belt on her coat. Then she held her neck scarf across her face to block the sting of the wind, and half ran, half slid across the slick, unplowed road.