Gage Striker hadn’t been in the same room as Elena Rollins in six years. They’d never spoken after their breakup. Never texted. Never called.
And yet, the exact moment his former lover crossed the threshold of his remote Montana home, crashing his private party, he knew. He sensed her nearness like a breath on the back of his neck—a prickling awareness that set every nerve ending on alert.
How had she gained admittance? He’d hired a security team to prevent just such intrusions. Heads would roll for the oversight, given how many celebrity guests were under his roof at his Mesa Falls Ranch home tonight—guests who rightly expected their privacy to be protected. In the meantime, he needed to contain the problem. Just as soon as he located her.
Gage stood in the massive foyer with his friend and Mesa Falls co-owner Weston Rivera. The DJ was playing a pop song in the great room behind them and a handful of people were dancing. Just then, a commotion erupted near the front door as one of the evening’s more prominent celebrities strolled in with her entourage. Social media star Chiara Campagna caused quite a stir with her sleek dark hair and wide dark eyes, but Gage’s attention passed over her quickly.
Elena was his real concern.
Guests poured from the great room into the foyer, phones recording Chiara’s entrance as she accepted a magnolia flower from a greeter. It amazed him how much attention she attracted, especially among the handful of Hollywood elite who’d been invited to this evening’s party, a PR effort to raise awareness about the ranch’s environmental initiatives.
And to provide cover for the fact that all six of the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch were scheduled to fly in for a meeting this weekend. They were in crisis mode. The tabloids had been far too interested in the ranch ever since the actress Tabitha Barnes used their holiday gala as a platform to make explosive allegations about one of Mesa Falls’ former guests. Gage kept waiting for the spotlight to fade and the public to move on to the next scandal, but tabloid reporters had started showing up to chase the story once they discovered how much time Alonzo Salazar had spent at the ranch before his death.
Much to Gage’s personal frustration, Elena had recently embarked on a new career in entertainment journalism. He had a strong suspicion she’d taken the job only when she’d seen a chance for payback given the way they’d parted. With all the gossip Elena Rollins could have covered closer to her Southern California home, of course she’d post a photo of her plane ticket to Missoula, Montana, on her social media account with a provocative caption about hunting down answers.
He’d known all week she was coming for him.
With an effort, Gage returned his attention to his business partner, and the coolly poised blonde at his side. The woman didn’t look familiar, but it was clear by the way Weston curled a possessive arm around her waist that she was someone special to him.
“This is more than we planned for, mate,” Gage observed as he took a rough head count of the crowd in the foyer. “We need better security.” Then, forcing a more pleasant note into his voice, he peered down at Weston’s guest. “I’m Gage, by the way.”
“April Stephens,” the woman replied, her blue eyes darting around the room and up to the cathedral ceiling where hidden lights cast a warm glow on the partygoers. “And thank you for inviting me. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He had helped design the modern take on a lodge-style home, but he hadn’t spent much time on-site since his business interests kept him on the move. At fourteen thousand square feet, the property was made for entertaining more than anything. “I know this isn’t everyone’s idea of a party, though, love. Come back in the summer when we can kick our shoes off, barbecue some ribs and throw horseshoes by the pool. That’s more my speed.”
He’d never bought into his parents’ belief that appearances were everything. He might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon, but he’d chucked it aside as soon as he realized how much baggage came with it. Now, he had his own wealth. Made his own rules. Funny how he still ended up throwing parties for the overprivileged. At least he called the shots these days.
Weston leaned forward to address Gage. “I need all the help I can get convincing April to spend more time here.”
Intriguing that Weston would make his interest in the woman so clear. Gage had known Weston since boarding school days and he couldn’t recall a single female in all that time whom his footloose, mountaineering friend had gone out of his way to impress.
Gage nodded, respecting Weston’s wishes even though he couldn’t imagine diving into relationship waters again. He returned his attention to his friend’s date.
“Definitely come back and spend some time with us when there’s not so much hype.” He snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering why he should know the woman. “April. You’re the financial forensics investigator. How’s your case going?”
So this was the woman who’d been hired by Alonzo Salazar’s son to trace his mysterious finances. Gage’s former mentor had recently been unmasked as the man behind a Hollywood tell-all book that had caused Tabitha Barnes and her family a world of trouble.
“It’s closed,” she assured him. “I’ve tracked enough of Alonzo’s earnings to satisfy my client, so I’m officially finished with my work at Mesa Falls. I’ll be flying back to Denver tomorrow.”
Gage nodded, realizing she wasn’t going to offer any specifics. He would ask Devon Salazar for an update on the case in the morning since her findings could very well turn media scrutiny in another direction. Away from the ranch.
The encouraging thought immediately faded, however, as he felt the hairs at his shirt collar stand on end. The hum of awareness grew to a buzzing sensation until he had no choice but to turn around.
And came face-to-face with his former lover.
Elena Rollins stepped toward him, swathed in strapless crimson silk and velvet. Her dark hair was half pinned up and half trailing down her back, a few glossy curls spilling over one bare shoulder. Even now, six years later, she took his breath away as fast as a punch to his chest. For a single devastating instant, he thought the smile curving her red lips was for him.
Then, she opened her arms wide.
“April!” Elena greeted Weston Rivera’s date warmly, wrapping her in a one-armed embrace like they were old friends.
Only then did Gage notice how Elena gripped her phone in her other hand, holding it out at arm’s length to record everything. Was it a live video? Anger surged through him at the same time he wondered how in the hell she knew April Stephens.
“Smile for my followers,” Elena instructed her friend as the two women eased apart. She lifted her cell to get both of them in the shot.
April hesitated, clearly confused about being in the spotlight.
“Were you unaware of Elena’s day job?” Gage asked April as he plucked the device from Elena’s red talons and dropped it in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “She’s now a professional menace.”
Elena rounded on him, pinning him with her dark eyes. They stood deadlocked in fuming silence. Weston might have said something to him—Gage couldn’t be sure—before Weston and April headed off. Now it was Gage and his ex, surrounded by at least twenty-five other guests still filming Chiara Campagna’s every movement on their phones.
“That belongs to me,” Elena sniped, tipping her chin at him. “You have no right to take it.”
“You have no right to be here, but I see you didn’t let that stop you from finagling your way onto the property.”