The wail of a distant siren cut through the murmuring crowd and the whirr of a snow mobiles joined the response. Relief flooded him as the EMTs, and patrol arrived on the scene. The team of emergency workers quickly triaged Angela and Eric.
Leaving them to do their jobs, he went to Reagan who had moved to the sidelines. “How you holding up?” he asked.
Her lips chattered. “I’m okay,” she said. “Angela’s husband’s going straight to the Urgent Care clinic in Eagle Rock. Owen’s on his back to the main ranch lodge building. We’re supposed to meet with the rest of the show’s crew in an hour.”
Brent pulled her into his embrace, warming her with his body, wishing he could erase the lines furrowing her forehead. “I’ll take you there now.” He stroked her back, running his hands up and down the ski jacket. “Should give us time to grab a quick bite first.”
“Thanks,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Sorry the rest of our date is over.”
She trembled slightly, and he held her tighter, lowering his forehead to hers. “Not your fault,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of this cold before we both turn into popsicles.”
“I just hope she’s okay.”
Her breath misted the air between them as her blue eyes locked onto his. “They’re just erring on the side of caution.”
“It’s just. I…” she broke off, lowered her gaze.
The catch in her voice lanced him behind the sternum. Today’s accident had resurrected the memory of her devastating loss. “You what?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but unable to reveal the fact.
“I know what happened today is different, but I survived a car accident that killed my husband. His internal injuries were too devastating to save him,” she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Not exactly date conversation, but… sorry.” She buried her head into the shelter of his shoulder.
“Hey.” He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to hide how you feel, your past, from me. I figured you must have had someone special when I first saw the bands.” And she’d taken them off for him before their first date the night before.
She slowly released him, stepped back. “They’re part of who I am,” she said. “What I had, the love I shared with him, didn’t die that day, but I’m a different person now.”
“I happen to like that person a lot,” he said. “I enjoyed last night. Today too.” That wasn’t a lie, despite the fact he’d had to hide his real reason for being in Montana from her.
He cocked his head to his SUV, the sound of the emergency crew’s sirens fading in the crisp, winter air. “How about we head back now? I heard the grilled cheese the ranch serves up is the best.” Hell, he wanted to do more than share a few drinks and meals with her. But connecting with Reagan, acting on the heat flaring between them from the minute he’d caught her mid-fall, meant lowering some of his guard too.
Later. For now, he’d focus on taking her mind off her past and get her thinking squarely about the future, even if a lasting one with him wasn’t in the cards.
She smiled. “I gave them my recipe. So I know it’s the best.”
Warmth spread through him, filled his chest, flowed through his veins. Damn. The girl had spirit. He took her hand and they made their way across the lane toward his SUV. “Then I definitely want to try it,” he said, opening her door to let her inside.
“I overreacted when you tried to hold me back from the wreck,” she said after he stepped into the driver’s side. “Boy, you moved fast. Felt like you’ve got firsthand experience in this rescuing business.”
Shit. Her brother had been a DEA agent before moving to Italy to oversee the installation of another CRUSH headquarters. “I’m a Marine,” he admitted.
“You’re on leave? I thought you were a businessman or something.”
“You’re not far off the mark. I left a few years ago after my third tour of duty,” he said, giving her just enough of the truth that’d also cover his ass. “My company provides discrete security services. We’ve got contracts and clients all over the country, but my offices are located north of San Francisco.”
“Sort of like Sadie Patterson’s husband?”
“You could say that.” Only, his work usually meant running dangerous missions all over the world.
If she discovered the reason he’d shown up in Montana, she might never forgive him. But he didn’t plan on letting her discover the truth. Not unless he couldn’t avoid it.
Today’s near miss had been a close call, but unless he learned otherwise from the sheriff’s report, he’d continue to tread the path he’d chosen.
Chapter 5
Reagan clutched her bag of ingredients in one hand while waving goodbye to Owen, who’d driven her back to her cabin. Within seconds, she’d entered her cozy cabin. After stamping the snow off her boots, she carried everything she’d gotten from Eagle Point’s restaurant staff into the efficiently supplied kitchen to unload them.
Her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket. She withdrew it, smiled at the text from Brent.
Do you need me to bring anything?
Just your appetite.
Always with me.
She read his response, laughed. The man had a healthy appetite. Hours earlier, they’d noshed on grilled cheese sandwiches filled with creamy, melted sharp cheddar mixed with savory, caramelize onions complemented with a lush tomato-basil bisque.
He’d walked with her to the ranch’s kitchens where she connected with Cooking Thyme’s staff, then left her to take advantage of the remaining free hours to ski the black diamond slopes. After the meeting, she’d gone to the chef and asked for the ingredients to make a dinner any red-blooded man would wolf down.
Nothing like a thick, juicy steak cooked to perfection by reverse searing it. Within a half an hour, a pair of thick beef tenderloins baked at a low temp in the oven and a simple salad had been tossed, waiting for a dash of light, homemade balsamic vinaigrette. Small potatoes had been parboiled, ready to roast after she pulled the steaks out to sear them right before serving.
Reagan made her way to the cabin’s bedroom suite for a well-deserved shower. Afterward, with a towel wrapped around her wet hair and another tucked around her body, she rifled through her drawers, looking for something way sexier than the serviceable underwear and bras she’d packed for this trip.
But then, things might not go that far anyway.
Still, she made a mental note to hit the local lingerie shop and buy stuff that’d make her feel feminine, attractive… seductive… from here on out. Because no matter where things went with Brent, she planned on having a life that extended beyond her pots and pans in the future.
With that thought in mind, she grabbed the least boring pair of panties she’d brought with her and started to dress.
A bell chimed just as she finished applying her makeup. Her heart rate ramped up and she took one more cursory look in the mirror, added another layer of gloss to her mouth, then blew herself a kiss.
An old high school habit she’d developed to give herself female confidence, courage.
Heck, if she didn’t love herself, accept who she was flaws and all, then who would?
She twirled away from the mirror, went to the door and opened it, smiling, expecting to see Brent. “You’re a bit earl…,” she stopped, her stomach hollowing out when she saw Eric standing there instead. “What’s wrong? Is it Angela?”
His pale face, the dullness in his usually alert eyes, rang a warning, clanging against her temple. “No,” he said, walking into the cabin when she waved him in. “She’s fine. Just a mild concussion.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here to tell me that, Eric,” she said, peering outside before closing the door to the cold wind blowing through her tunic top.
“I know,” he said, pacing, running his fingers over his shaved scalp. “It’s just… they want me to direct the first two live shows, so she can rest and I, I… I’m not ready. I can’t. What if
I fuck it up?”
Her usually unflappable assistant verged on hysterical, his voice pitching high. She stifled a small laugh, knowing he needed someone to talk him off the precipice and went to stand in front of him. “First of all, just breathe before you pass out on me,” she said, squeezing his shoulders to brace him while holding his gaze.
He inhaled, blew out the air. Some color returned to his high cheekbones. “Okay… okay. I can do this, right?”
“Of course you can,” she said reassuring him. “You know my routine and the way I work in the kitchen. I trust you to get this right.”
“Sure, you’re right. I’ll have no problem with you. You’re easy to work for and with,” he said, then his hazel eyes clouded, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But what about Owen? I’ve never worked with him before. What if he gives me a hard time? He’s charming but, I’m afraid it’s all surface level because he gives off vibes like he’s hard to please. How will I handle him if he goes off the rails?”
“He’s a professional.” Albeit a bit temperamental, but he’d never been a jerk while they’d competed for the top slot. “Don’t worry about him. We talked this afternoon, coordinated our recipes and finalized our preparations for the shows. He’s here to celebrate the grand opening of another flagship restaurant in New York. This will be fun. Try not to worry.”
She hugged her assistant. “I’m sorry Angela’s out of commission, but I’m thrilled for you. Who knows? You might get your own show to direct because of this.”
“You think so?”
“Take it from me, Eric, anything is possible in this world if we’re willing to take risks.” She meant the words. Tonight she’d act on her own advice too.
With Brent.
Another chime rang. Eric finally focused on her, the aromas scenting the cabin. “Whoa. I’m interrupting something.”
“Not yet,” she said, heading toward the door.
“Ha. I understand,” he said, following her. “Just be sure to get plenty of rest tonight. If you can.”
She laughed. “I will,” she said, then opened the door.??
Brent stood on the deck holding a bottle of red wine she recognized from the vineyard near her hometown. “Saxon Cabernet, special selection,” he said, stepping inside only to stop when he spotted Eric. “Saw your car. Guess this isn’t a dinner for two after all. My mistake.”
“No. No mistake.” She tilted her head toward Eric. “We just wrapped up an impromptu business meeting.”
“Yes. I was just leaving,” Eric said as he jammed his hands in his parka’s pockets. “See you tomorrow and remember. I need you rested and on top of your game.”
“You’ve got it.” Reagan walked him to the door, let him out. “And be sure to do the same. I know you’ll be great.”
“Thanks,” he said, then loped down the stairs to his replacement rental.
“Whew. Glad I talked him off the proverbial ledge.” She turned to Brent. “He’s taking over for Angela until she’s cleared to work again.”
“Good thing he didn’t get hurt in that accident. How is she?” he asked, handing her the bottle, then taking off his coat which revealed his gun and holster.
“You always carry?” she asked.
“Comes with the job,” he said as he removed his weapon and holster, then hung them under his leather jacket. “Does it bother you?”
“No. My brother was in the DEA, but I’m glad you’re not wearing it now. Besides, your quick instincts during the accident stopped things from getting a lot worse than a few bumps and scrapes and smashed cars.” She returned to the kitchen and set the bottle down on the counter. “Who’d have thought my jokingly asking you to be my bodyguard on the slopes would become the real thing?”
“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Good thing. Especially when I happen to like having you in one piece, so I can do things like this.” He caressed her waist, stroked down her hips and then cruised his hands up again. “And like this…” Brent edged her around to face him, then anchored her neck and lowered his mouth until it hovered a mere inch from hers.
She inhaled his breath, tasted the kiss before he closed the scant distance lock their mouths together. She coiled her hands around his neck and held on, rocked into him, yielding to the sensations spiraling through her.
Reagan brought her body flush to Brent’s, pressing herself against him. Her tight nipples poked into his chest, and a soft moan escaped her, the sexy sound arrowing through him straight to his cock.
He hardened, and his pulse thundered in his ears. Heat, the scent of her, raised his temperature to a feverish high. God. He wanted her. Bad.
Their first kiss had been brief, tender. Sweet. This? Hell, there was nothing sweet about how Reagan’s lush lips teased his, opening him wider, sliding her tongue inside, exploring.
He fisted his hands in her hair, holding her steady, hungering for more. More of her succulent flavor and her sultry moans. He inhaled them all, drank them in. Greedy, starved. Unable to get enough.
Beeping, insistent and strong, broke through his sex-buzzed brain. He cut off the kiss, still holding her, and gazed into her gleaming dark blue eyes.
She released his neck, pointed to the microwave over the stove beside her. “Dinner calls.”
“We could just skip dinner, go straight for dessert.”
Reagan nibbled her lower lip. “Tempting.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “But I’m not wasting USDA prime beef. Open the wine, pour some while I sear the steaks.”
He covered her hand with his, reminded himself she deserved the slow build, but damn. Everything in him wanted to cruise into fast lane, especially his still hard cock. Inhaling a deep breath, he willed a bucket of mental ice down his pants.
Didn’t work. The sooner he got away from the only thing he wanted to eat, her, the better.
Brent squeezed her hand, then let her go. “You’ve got it,” he said, moving around her.
“Great. Won’t take me long to get everything ready.” She shifted around him to open the fridge door.
He rifled through the drawer for the corkscrew, opened the wine and poured two glasses. After placing hers on the counter next to the stove, he carried his to the living area and set it on the fireplace’s mantle. Sizzling sounds permeated the air while he stacked kindling, cut logs and lit them with one of the long, wooden matches next to the open hearth.
The flames flickered to life and he drank his wine, watching her in the kitchen. She’d tied an apron around her waist, which accentuated the flare of her full hips. Her back turned to him, she moved with grace and efficiency while tossing salad, flipping the steaks.
His mouth watered. More for the woman cooking him a meal than for the food itself.
Later, after they’d eaten the delicious food she’d prepared, he helped her carry the empty plates to the sink, started scraping them.
The logs he’d stacked earlier crackled, the orange and yellow flames flickered, warming the room and scenting the air with wood smoke. “Thanks for dinner,” he said. “Everything was amazing.” The steak had been a perfect medium rare all the way throughout, the potatoes crisp and savory. He’d even enjoyed the salad with the tangy dressing.
But none of that could compare to the delicious person who’d served up the generous plates of food.
“Glad you liked it,” she said. “Here, let me help.” She reached for the last plate in the sink at the same time he did.
Heat sparked beneath his skin when she accidentally touched his hand. “I’ve got this.” He drew the dish away and loaded it into the small dishwasher. “Besides, you cooked. I clean.”
Her gaze locked onto his. The same heat firing along his nerves reflected in her cobalt rimmed eyes. “I like the way you think.”
“Excellent.” He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close. He revolved her into the living room and to the sofa in front of fireplace. “Can you guess what I’m thinking right now?”
Her
lips parted ever so slightly as her breath hitched. The pulse in the base of her neck fluttered rapidly, matching the drumming in his.
“I’m betting I can,” she said, her voice husky. “Dessert?”
Still holding with her with one arm, he traced his index finger down the side of her face, over her rosy cheek and across her lips one by one, then lower still to the hollow in her neck. “You’d be betting right.”
She arched her back, bringing her breasts higher, the cleavage within inches of his roving hand. “Then that makes two of us.” Reagan bridged the scant distance between them. “And I’m not talking about s’mores.”
Brent circled the sensitive spot he’d lasered in on, then drawing a line between her gorgeous, full breasts. “Neither am I.”
Brent’s whiskey colored eyes turned dark, the flecks of amber in them sparking more heat than the fire flickering in the hearth. Every cell in her body seemed to come alive, truly alive for the first time in years.
Reagan craved him with an intensity she’d forgotten she possessed. Yet, he waited. And, for an excruciating millisecond that seemed to last forever, she remained paralyzed, unable to act.
But the electricity, the tension spiraling between them unraveled the last remnant of her resistance. She bridged the remaining distance between them to fuse her mouth to his. And then there was the rush, the craving, the wanting racing through her veins and skimming along her nerves, as she took everything he had to offer.
She swept her tongue along the seam of his lips, parting them and gliding it along his. Tasting the wine, the man. She slaked in and out of him, need and demand propelling her.
He cruised his hands down her back, cupped her ass and hitched her closer, his powerful thighs bracing her legs. The ridge of his erection pressed against her. Her panties grew wet and her clit pulsated, throbbed.
Demanding more, she moaned into his mouth, arched her back and raised her breasts into his chest, frenzied, eager for his touch. He cupped both, stroked his thumbs over the puckered peaks. She moaned, skimmed her hands to his waist to jerk his shirt out of the jeans and slide them up his naked, muscular torso.
Tempted By Her Rescuer: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 4