as they grew older. During their teenage years, they began to stay in touch throughout the months in between her visits, and once they were in college—and after—they found ways to spend time together on a more consistent basis.
Always as friends, though. Until that last year. Until the kiss, the accident and the hell that followed. Cole’s gut tightened at the memory. Hell, had he turned into a sixteen-year-old girl? The past was the past, and dwelling on what had happened, versus what might or might not have happened, did him absolutely no good in the present.
A tingling sense of awareness snapped into place. Cole shifted to the right to get a better view and...yep, there she was, crossing the well-lit street with her arm linked in a man’s. For a millisecond, he forgot everything else as he watched her long-legged, slender body in motion. Her middle-of-the-back-length blond hair blew around her face, the strands merging with the swirling snow, creating the image of a mythical snow princess.
His heart did the galloping lurch to his throat, and his blood seemed to warm beneath his skin. God, he’d missed her. Even more than he’d realized. He gave himself another few seconds to enjoy the simple pleasure of just seeing Rachel again. She was as beautiful as always.
The man—Andrew—tipped his head to her level and whispered in her ear. Her lips opened in a silent laugh, and she bestowed a light kiss on his cheek. Something primal roared to life inside of Cole, reminding him of what was at stake, and it was all he could do to stay seated.
Narrowing his eyes, he now focused all of his attention on Andrew.
He was tall, but not as tall as Cole. Stupid and meaningless, for sure, but that pleased him. He walked in a smooth, polished gait that spoke of authority, and his black Burberry trench screamed style and wealth. Not a surprise. Rachel came from style and wealth and everything that lifestyle granted, so why wouldn’t the man she decreed might be the one?
That didn’t bother Cole. What did was how good they looked together. He supposed he could hope there was something wrong with Andrew...some ulterior motive buried behind his interest in Rachel. She’d been involved with men before who were more interested in her family’s wealth and her father’s business connections than they were in her.
Somehow, though, Cole’s intuition told him that wasn’t the case here, even though he hadn’t yet spoken one word to Andrew. If there was something—anything—going on that could potentially hurt Rachel, Cole would ferret it out. More for her sake than his. Not that he wouldn’t use any such information to his advantage, because he would. Without doubt or hesitation.
He supposed he could also hope that Rachel would bolt, as she had with him and other relationships over the years, but wishing for that felt wrong. Cole wanted her to be happy, and that wouldn’t happen until she’d figured out that running away never solved a damn thing.
The couple stopped outside the window. Andrew pulled Rachel close for a kiss that reignited Cole’s mental images of how they might have spent their afternoon. Cole swallowed, squeezed his hand tight around his coffee cup and waited the interminable seconds until they separated. Rachel said something, laughed again and tugged Andrew toward the door.
It took every bit of willpower that Cole could muster, but he had his smile warm and welcoming when they entered the coffee shop. Rachel squealed, dropped Andrew’s hand—which, yeah, also pleased Cole to no end—and flew toward him for a hug.
Standing, he opened his arms and caught her when she landed. Pulled her in tight to him and squeezed. Her scent, a delicious mix of spice and fruit and winter, wrapped around him, securing the knowledge that Rachel belonged in his arms.
Soft hair, damp from the snow, brushed his jaw as she whispered, “I’m so happy to see you. It’s been too long.”
“Good to see you, too,” he said. “And it’s always too long.”
She stepped out of his arms and turned toward Andrew to introduce them. Her pretty blue eyes softened and a glow entered them that Cole had only seen once before—in the seconds before their solitary kiss. Well, hell. So far, nothing was adding up the way he’d hoped.
Widening his smile, as fake as it might be, Cole reached out to shake Andrew’s hand. A faint smirk colored Andrew’s expression, but he met Cole’s hand with his own and—surprising Cole—squeezed a tad harder than required. And then, harder still, as if out to prove his machismo.
Immature, possibly, but Cole wasn’t about to ignore the challenge. He tightened his hold incrementally, smiling all the while, knowing he could outlast just about anyone in the handshake wars. It took all of fifteen seconds, maybe twenty, before Andrew gave up and released his grip.
Score one for the home team.
“Good to meet you, Kyle,” Andrew said as he flexed his fingers. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the man that Rachel considers a brother.”
“Friend. Best friend,” Rachel interjected. “But yes, I made it clear how important Cole is to me. And now we’re all here! Isn’t this wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” Cole replied, resisting the childish urge to punch “the one” in the face. He nodded toward the table and retook his seat, saying, “Glad to meet you, too, Andy. Up until a week ago, I hadn’t heard one word about you, so I’m sure you’ll understand my concern...and my questions. Seeing I’m ‘like a brother’ to Rachel, it’s my duty to look out for her welfare.”
Andrew scowled but didn’t immediately respond. He helped Rachel with her coat before removing his own. Once they were seated, he refocused on Cole. “Oh, I understand,” he said with a nuance of sarcasm. “I think this will be fun...getting to know each other. Don’t you?”
Rachel glanced at Cole and then at Andrew and then back to Cole, her eyes beseeching him to ease the awkwardness, rather than edging it on.
“Absolutely.” Cole lifted his coffee mug in a faux toast, deciding he’d give Andrew one more chance at playing nice. For Rachel’s sake.
But if “the one” continued to push at Cole’s buttons, he’d pony up and meet him at the gaming table. Even if he didn’t, Cole now knew he was in this for the duration. Somewhere in between seeing Rachel and having her in his arms, he’d made a decision. He was done waiting for the right time, the right words, the right moment, or the right anything.
This was war.
* * *
Well, that had been a rocky start.
Rachel Merriday leaned back in her seat to wait as Cole and Andrew went to get their coffees. Would they find a way to get along? Certainly, once Andrew realized he had no reason to be envious of Cole, he would relax. Cole, she knew, had simply responded to Andrew’s slight antagonistic attitude, and when that ended, would be more than happy to meet him halfway.
Or so she hoped.
The two had a lot in common, not that either one of the stubborn fools would believe that on her say-so alone. While they didn’t look alike in any way whatsoever, they were both handsome, virile men. Where Cole was dark—black hair, deep brown eyes and what Rachel described as caramel-coated skin, Andrew was light—ash-blond hair, steely gray eyes and a bordering-on-fair complexion that was more like her own.
Each was tall and fit, but also in different ways. Cole had the look of an athlete, lean and naturally strong. Andrew’s slightly more muscular physique came from hours spent in the gym each week and a rigorous low-fat, low-calorie, low-everything diet. But, yes. Both handsome. Both virile. Both sexy as all get-out.
No woman alive could deny that. Or, Rachel amended, no sane woman.
The real similarity between them, though, existed beneath their skin. Sure, Andrew tended to be more serious than Cole, but his heart was just as big, just as sincere, just as honorable. They were protectors. Guardians, really, of the people they loved. It was that trait in particular that had first drawn her to Andrew.
Continued to draw her, if she were to be completely honest.
But