The Return of the Rebel. Jennifer Faye

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      Sure she’d changed some, but so had he. His long brown hair had been cut off. Her fingers itched to brush over the supershort strands. And his face was now pale instead of the tanned complexion she recalled—back when they spent most of their time outdoors.

      But not everything about him had changed. If you knew to look for it, there was still a little scar that threaded along his jaw. She clearly remembered the day he’d gotten it. They’d been fishing at the creek. He’d been goofing off when he’d slipped and fallen on rocks. He’d clambered back upright and laughed at himself until she’d pointed out he was bleeding.

      They’d practically grown up together...even if he was five years her senior. Hope Springs, Wyoming, was a very small town and it was great seeing someone from home. It’d been so long since she’d been there. And her last visit had been such a nightmare—

      Her throat tightened. Could that be the answer? It might explain why he was acting as if he didn’t know her. Even though he’d left Hope Springs years ago, it was possible he kept in contact with someone from there. Her stomach churned. Did he know about what she’d done?

      “Jax, stop acting like you could forget the girl who used to follow you to our favorite watering hole.”

      “I think you must have me mistaken for someone else.” He turned his back to her and waited while the clerk spoke in hushed tones on the phone.

      Mistaken? Not a chance. She’d know those baby blues anywhere. They could still make her heart flutter with just a glance.

      Even with the passage of time and some outward changes, it was impossible he’d forget her. She’d had a teenage crush on him of megaproportions. To say she thought the sun rose and set around him was putting it mildly. She’d have done anything for him. She had done anything for him, including lying. So whatever he had going on with this alias of his, she refused to lie for him again. Not here. Not when she could lose her job and so much more.

      “Stop acting like you don’t recognize me. We need to talk—”

      He glanced over his shoulder at her. His eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “No, we don’t.”

      “Your name is Jax Monroe. You’re from Hope Springs, Wyoming—”

      “Stop.” He turned fully around. “You aren’t going to let this drop, are you?”

      She crossed her arms and shook her head. When his eyes flared, she realized she’d made the wrong move. Her arms pushed up on her chest, which was now peeking out from the diving neckline. She wanted to change positions but stubborn pride held her in place. Let him look. Maybe now he’d realize what he’d missed out on when he’d brushed off her inexperienced kiss and skipped town without a backward glance.

      * * *

      Jax Monroe couldn’t help but stare at Cleo—all grown-up and filled out in the right places. Long wavy honey-gold locks just begged for him to run his fingers through them to see if they were as soft as they appeared. Wow! If he had known how hot she’d turn out, he might have reconsidered returning to Hope Springs. After all, she’d had a crush on him that was apparent to everyone in their hometown... But then he recalled how young she’d been back then—much too young for him.

      And now, as much as her body had grown and changed from the gangly teenager he’d once known, there were other parts of her that were annoyingly the same. She still spoke her mind at the most inopportune time and without any thought of who might be listening.

      What in the world had made him think that flying across the country to hide in plain sight was such a good idea? On second thought, maybe he should have stuck it out in New York until it was time for his courtroom testimony. But he’d already made his choice. And now that he was here, he was looking forward to seeing if Lady Luck was still on his side.

      Now if only he could just get Cleo to quiet down before she revealed his identity to everyone in the hotel. Frustration bubbled in his veins as he considered clamping his hand over her pink glossy lips. Then a more tempting thought came to mind of how he might silence her—lip to lip.

      One look at the agitation reflected in her eyes and he knew she’d slap him if he dared kiss her. Definitely not a viable option, even if Cleo wasn’t his best friend’s kid sister. Kurt had been the one guy who’d always accepted him as is—the same guy who’d saved his bacon more than once when he’d acted out after his old man had called him a good-for-nothing mooch. The only thing Kurt had ever asked of him was to keep his hands off his little sis.

      Jax smiled as he recalled Cleo with knobby knees, freckles and a long ponytail. Boy had things changed. She was smooth and polished like a piece of fine art.

      Cleo’s green eyes narrowed. “Am I amusing you?”

      “Um, no.” He struggled to untangle his muddled thoughts. “I take it by your name tag that you work here.”

      Lines creased between her fine brows. “What’s the matter with you? Have you been drinking?”

      “What? Of course not.” He’d watched his father live his life out of a scotch bottle and the way his mother tried to please him, with no luck. Jax refused to follow in his father’s unhappy footsteps. “I don’t drink.”

      “So why are you calling yourself Joe Smith?”

      “Let’s talk over there. Out of the way.” He pointed to the edge of the counter, away from the incoming guests.

      She turned to observe the long line before following him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I won’t let you cause trouble here.”

      “Lower your voice.” Luckily no one appeared to notice them or their conversation. The guests were more interested in the arrival of an additional desk clerk than in what Cleo had to say. “I promise you I’m not here for any nefarious reason.”

      “Why should I believe you? I covered for you when you ‘borrowed’ the school mascot and when you pulled those numerous other pranks. I know the trouble you can cause.”

      “You’ve got to trust me.”

      She arched a disbelieving brow. “Says who?”

      Little Cleo had certainly gained some spunk. Well, good for her. It was also a relief to know she wasn’t still carrying that crazy torch for him. The last thing he needed at this critical juncture of his life was more complications.

      Her finger poked his chest. “You’re up to something and I want to know what it is.” Her tone brooked no room for debate. He wouldn’t be wiggling out of this confrontation with some flimsy story. “You can start by explaining your need for an alias.”

      “Just leave it be.”

      She shook her head. “I can’t look the other way. We aren’t kids anymore. This is where I work and I can’t let you jeopardize my job.” Cleo’s voice rose with every word. “But if you turn around and leave now, we can forget we ever saw each other.”

      He doubted he’d ever be able to wipe her sexy image from his memory. Her polished persona stole his breath away. She may have been a cute kid, but she’d grown up to be a real knockout. And as for leaving here now, he wasn’t about to do it. He had as much right to be here as anyone else.

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