He stroked her hair and she wondered if he was as reluctant as she was to speak. To shatter the bubble of time where they seemed to understand one another. It was an illusion, she knew, a false sensation perpetuated by all the amazing things they could make one another feel.

Wasn’t it?

Not sure she was ready to find out, she tipped her forehead to his chest and felt the beating of his heart instead. Steady. Comforting.

For tonight, she was going to savor that much. The morning was soon enough to wade through the complicated ties that still bound them. She owed him something for turning her life around. It hadn’t happened yet, but she could sense her world shifting, surging with new opportunities that hadn’t been there before, thanks to him introducing her to Chiara.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to come up with a plan. To thank him and leave him to find someone suitable who would make the Striker family proud.

She just wished the thought of walking away didn’t make her chest feel so incredibly hollow inside.

Leaning back into the buttery leather seat of the Learjet, Gage told himself it was a good thing that Elena had agreed to return to Mesa Falls Ranch so readily.

He’d been concerned that she would prefer to stay in Lake Tahoe for the rest of the week, given her new relationship with Chiara Campagna. No doubt Elena would want to explore the business opportunities that the friendship offered, and he certainly couldn’t blame her for investigating those possibilities. Yet she’d complied with his wish to fly to Montana today.

He turned to watch her use the photo editing software at the workstation near the front of the aircraft. She’d been manipulating images for the last hour, testing fonts with the graphics and different filters. He recognized some of the garments in the shots—clothes she’d discovered in the casino’s boutique or that she’d made herself. There were close-ups of hems and stitches, shoulders and necklines.

To a certain extent, filling her time with work was the norm for Elena Rollins. But Gage couldn’t help but wonder if she was busying herself purposely to avoid talking to him. To avoid whatever was happening between them.

He’d sensed her pulling away somehow last night after an incredible sexual encounter. Or had it been the story about his past he’d shared that had left things feeling uneasy between them?

“How’s it going?” he asked, unfastening his seat belt to join her at the workstation as the plane began its descent.

Glancing up at his approach, she combed her hair from her face as her brown eyes flicked over him. Memories of her dark hair sliding along his bare skin threatened to derail all his good intentions.