Seduced by the Soldier

by Melia Alexander

  She looked up and caught the slight frown on Blake’s forehead. “What?”

  “Did you just put me on your Instagram page?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a story, though,” she said. “They’re gone in twenty-four hours.”

  She pulled her backpack toward her…and there was that niggling feeling again. Her fingers touched the padlock Blake had insisted she put on her backpack yesterday. Without thinking, she turned each dial, stopping at each number with the kind of precision that would make her own parents proud—as if any of that counted at all.

  As the numbers clicked into place in her brain, she raised her head until her gaze met Blake’s. “The combination,” she said, indicating the padlock in her hand. “This was the date I sold my first photograph.”

  His eyes widened slightly, then he shrugged. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

  Wow. She wasn’t wrong. That day had been amazing, in some ways just as good as the day a few weeks ago when she’d gotten word that Flights and Sights wanted to offer her a field position. “Why?” she finally asked. “Why would you choose that number?”

  “Why not? I had to give you a number you’d remember.”

  His tone was cool, neutral, like maybe that really truly was the reason. Except…

  Zandra sat up in her seat and tilted her head to one side. “That’d make sense, only the combination was already set when you handed the padlock over yesterday.”

  “Maybe I set it on the plane, okay?”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Are we really going to talk about a particular combination?” He turned away, stared out the window to the train station beyond it, but not before she caught a flash of something in his eyes.

  “Sure. Unless it’s such a big deal that you’d rather not discuss it.” She stared at him intently, not wanting to miss anything that would give some insight into his true feelings.

  “I just remembered how excited you were about selling your first photo, that’s all.”

  “Really? You didn’t seem all that thrilled at the time.”

  “I was happy for you.”

  She’d hung out that night at Anthony’s, one of her favorite spots near Pike Place Market, celebrating with her friends when Blake and her brother joined them. Actually, it looked more like Jackson had dragged Blake with him. “You looked like that was the last place you wanted to be that night.”

  “Maybe I’m just a good actor.” He flashed her a cheesy grin.

  “Nothing’s outside the realm of possibility.”

  Zandra stopped as something blared over the train’s speakers at the same time that Blake sat up, his face a mask as he listened.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  Other passengers in the compartment stood and gathered their belongings. “What’s happening?” Zandra asked, a well of fear beginning in the pit of her stomach. “Why are they all getting up? Where are they going?”

  Blake scrubbed a hand over his face. “We need to disembark.”

  “What? Why? I have two hours to get to Lucerne then find Madame Pruissard’s chocolate shop. We can’t disembark now.”

  “Your choice.” He stood. “You can sit here or we can find another way to get to Lucerne. Because right now, the train’s not going anywhere since there’s a problem with the railroad track about a couple miles ahead. We can’t get through.”

  “Wait. What? That’s not possible,” she protested, her brain still struggling to comprehend how this could happen now, of all the damned times. “My photo shoot…they’re waiting for me…”

  She fought back the tide of panic, of the notion that she’d failed before she’d even started. What would she say to her parents? Jackson? Flights and Sights?

  “Hey.” Blake smiled, hefted his pack onto his back, and secured the straps around his waist. “We’ll figure it out.”

  She took a deep breath, nodded, and replaced the lock on her backpack. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out.”

  In fact, she knew exactly what her next move would be.

  …

  Blake retraced his steps toward the front of the train station where he’d left Zandra. So much for getting any info out of train station officials. No one seemed to have a clue when the trains would be running again, and while he knew it wasn’t necessarily the truth, he couldn’t worry too much about that now.

  He was like a salmon swimming upstream, against the stranded travelers that seemed to fill the entire building. But at the moment, there was only one stranded traveler he was concerned about.

  He’d expected her to freak once she realized that they couldn’t continue. With any luck, the tracks would be replaced quickly, but who knew when it would happen? And while she’d raised her voice an octave or two, it wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought it’d be. In the end, she was unexpectedly calm about it.

  A corner of his mouth crooked up as he rounded the corner. He had to admit, he admired that about her.

  Blake stopped, frowning at the now-empty area in front of him. No Zandra. This was where he’d left her—with explicit instructions not to move. He was sure of it. He scanned his surroundings. Yep, there was the train station’s clock, and to the left were the reader boards that displayed arrival and departure times. This was exactly the place, only now she wasn’t there.

  He blew out his breath and grounded himself. It was the best way to think clearly, to come up with viable answers as to where she might have gone. She wasn’t naïve—she wouldn’t go off with anyone. Then again, she didn’t stay put like she’d promised she would, either.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and felt a trickle of sweat down the center of his back. Less than twenty-four hours and he’d lost a camera lens and Jackson’s sister.

  Maybe she’d gone to the restroom.

  But three minutes—and a polite question to a woman leaving the restroom area—later, he ruled out a potty break.

  Damn it.

  He scanned the area again, forcing himself to concentrate on seeing Zandra’s lucky white shirt, the one she’d insisted on wearing and had even taken the time to iron. Who the hell ironed a T-shirt?

  No ironed T-shirt in sight.

  Okay, he’d just call her. Problem solved.

  He stopped, pulled out his cell phone, and groaned. No cell service. Fucking unbelievable.

  Blake’s irritation rose with each tick of the clock, with each face he studied as he searched through the crowd. When he found her—because he would—it’d take everything in him not to yell at her. Did she honestly think he wouldn’t worry when she vanished into thin air? How hard was it to stay put for ten damn minutes?

  Frustrated, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Why the hell was he worrying in the first place? She was a grown woman. She didn’t need a keeper.

  Never mind that “Zandra’s keeper” was essentially the definition of this mission.

  Blake scanned the crowd again. There was a woman with a baby carriage. A man talking on his cell phone—lucky bastard. Two kids fighting while their parents stood close by, clearly ignoring them while they poured over a map.

  Still no Zandra.

  Blake stifled the irritation that raced through him and made himself breathe deeply. He could command a company of Special Forces soldiers with no problem. But Zandra? Jesus.

  Chapter Ten

  Zandra stood at the train platform, empty now save for the single row of parked trains extending back as far as she could see in one direction. Apparently even small towns got their fair share of train traffic.

  She frowned. This totally sucked, but then again, the situation made for a great behind-the-scenes story. She framed the row of trains on her phone screen and snapped a photo, labeled it STRANDED, added a freaked-out sticker, and uploaded it.

  She panned the rows of empty platforms and captured the d
istant sounds of train brakes. Another train stranded until the tracks were repaired. It wouldn’t be long before a fresh batch of passengers disembarked. She stuck a nervous sticker on her video, tagged her location in Lucerne, and sent that off, too.

  There. That was a start.

  Quickly she turned the camera on herself. “Well, this is a set-back, but don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.” She ended the video with a thumbs up and a big smile. Hopefully, it was convincing enough that her family and friends wouldn’t do a panicked slide into her DMs.

  She uploaded the last story, shoved her phone in her pocket, and looked around. No doubt there’d be a premium paid for transportation to Switzerland and beyond. Good thing she had that part already handled. Not that Bossy Blake stuck around long enough to listen. He’d learn soon enough how she’d met a challenge. Train schedules and the German language aside, she was more than capable of figuring out this whole life thing.

  In her pocket, her phone notifications went crazy. Startled, she scrambled to free the device and opened Instagram.

  Are you okay?

  Where’s the hot guy you’re traveling with?

  This is something straight out of a romance novel

  HEY. Don’t you DARE get yourself killed before my wedding! I mean it!

  Leave it to Tina to throw out a threat an entire continent away. Zandra laughed as she sent her friend a response.

  But then there were other responses, these from people she’d never heard of. Frowning, she scrolled through her DMs. And there it was. Flights and Sights had shared the post of pictures she’d uploaded to their story and tagged her. She switched over to her activity page, and sure enough, she’d jumped up over a hundred followers. And those followers must’ve been going through her feed, because there were a bunch of new likes on her posts.

  Holy crap.

  Breathe, Zandra. This is a good thing. More visibility equals more potential jobs.

  The thought shifted her momentary anxiety to pride. Her pictures were good. Good enough that the travel zine shared them, rather than waiting for the staged pictures she was hired to take.

  After assuring a few more people, she replaced her phone and adjusted her backpack just as the next wave of stranded travelers walked past. It was probably time to head back to ground zero—the spot where Blake had left her with growled-out instructions not to move.

  As. If. He didn’t own her.

  The thought had no sooner formed than the man himself climbed the last step onto the platform.

  He stopped a few feet away, and Zandra could almost see tension oozing out of him in his stance, in the set line of his jaw. He was a coil of stored energy, and if there was any doubt before, it all crystallized when their gazes locked.

  All thoughts of sharing her good news fled in an instant.

  They were close enough that she saw the relief and anger and lust blended together in his eyes. It created a vibe so strong it nearly took her breath away.

  Then he stalked toward her. And there was no doubt he was stalking. Broad shoulders, long strides, and an intensity in the way he’d slapped his ball cap over his head as he approached. Oh, he meant business, all right. Serious business.

  She offered a small smile as he neared. “Hey.”

  “I thought I told you to stay put.” He bit the words out as he scanned her from head to toe.

  Yeah, he wasn’t exactly happy with her at the moment. “I couldn’t get a good connection in there, so I came out here.”

  “And you didn’t bother to call or even text me?”

  “I wasn’t going to be gone long.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you that I meant it when I said to stay put?” His voice was low, soft, controlled.

  Oh God, he was seriously pissed. But it was more than that. She stared at the frown on his face and the tight line of his mouth. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Fear was stamped there as surely as light made all the difference during a photo shoot. It was enough to make Zandra’s stomach churn. “Okay, I’m sorry you’re so mad, but—”

  “I’m not mad, I’m frustrated. Frustrated because I can get two hundred soldiers to follow orders, but I can’t get a stubborn blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman to stay in one place.” He blew out a breath and gave her a hard stare. “And I’m not sure what to do with you.”

  “Oh. Well…I had work to do. I had—”

  “Let me guess, you just had to get online.”

  “Hey, there’s no reason to mock me,” she said, stepping back. “It’s part of my job. Not that I’d expect you to understand.”

  “What I understand, Zandra, is that I’m responsible for you whether you like it or not.” He sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head while his gaze never left hers. “I was worried something had happened to you.”

  He reached a hand out and stepped toward her at the same time, and before Zandra could think about it too hard, she was in his arms, her body pressed against his. Her breath caught as the enormity of the situation crashed with her brain’s processing function.

  Blake was afraid for her, afraid something had happened to her. Was this a good thing? Did she want it to be a good thing? She’d just found her footing, found her freedom, and here was a guy all over himself worried about her.

  Yet through the tumult of emotions that toppled her over and under and back again, the one thought that stood out amongst the rest? Being in Blake Monroe’s arms felt as normal as breathing. She closed her eyes and soaked in the scent of his cologne mixed in with a healthy dose of detergent. Who knew laundry soap could smell so sexy?

  He pulled back, his hands cupping her face, thumbs lightly caressing her cheeks. Awareness trickled through her, marching into every cell until all she saw was this man, this moment.

  “I don’t know whether I should kiss you or yell at you.”

  His soft words flowed through her, kicking her pulse higher. Was he offering her the choice? Because she knew which she preferred.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer a kiss.”

  He rumbled a laugh and moved closer. “If you change your mind, just say so and I’ll stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop.” That was the truth, she realized, mesmerized by his powerful gaze.

  The kiss started out soft, slow, as they learned the feel and taste of each other. His lips were firm, inviting, so much so that Zandra tilted her head, angling for more of his taste, more of his touch.

  She placed both hands on his T-shirt, the soft fabric covering what she’d suspected, and now knew, was a solid chest, likely chiseled and smoothed from hours of Army-required PT.

  His hands were busy, too. One hand traced her hip, the other caressed her face so gently, slowly, methodically as his lips played on hers, teasing them apart and requesting an entry she was only all too happy to give.

  His tongue swept in and explored, tasted, dueled for control, and she fought the heady feeling she was diving into an emotional lake and would lose herself in its depths, that she wanted to lose herself in it. Time, distance, location…none of it had any meaning in this moment. No, this moment belonged to them. Only them.

  Blake groaned and slowly pulled back but didn’t let go, his hands stroked her sides before fisting against her jeans.

  In slow motion, the world came back into focus, the sounds of footsteps registered… Someone clapped… And heat from the mid-morning sun seeped through her lust-induced fog.

  Zandra’s eyes flashed open. What was she doing?

  His breathing was heavy, as if it had taken every ounce in him to pull away. She could relate.

  But before she could say anything, he blinked and stepped back.

  “Sorry. That was uncalled for, Zandra.” He spiked his fingers through his hair.

  Her body screamed at the loss of contact, even as mortification crept up her neck. “Which
part?”

  “You know which part.”

  “The part when I chose you kissing me over listening to a lecture about why I should fall in line like one of your soldiers? Because I still believe the kiss was a better option to me.”

  His jaw tightened. “It wasn’t right.”

  Probably not, but she wasn’t telling him that. She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus on the now not-so-empty train platform, the people walking past speaking in a variety of different languages, the beauty of the Swiss Alps in the background… Really, he was doing her a favor, backing off like that. There were so many things to see, and they hadn’t even started her work project yet.

  “Hey.” Blake reached for her shoulders and hunched over to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. Really. Are we good?”

  She gave a mock sigh. “You’ve ruined me for any other man, but yeah. We’re good.” When his hands fell to his sides and his jaw dropped, she laughed. “I’m kidding, Blake. Can we get out of here? We need to get to Lucerne and find Madame Pruissard’s chocolate shop.” The chocolate shop. Her first paid assignment. The reason they were in Switzerland.

  “Okay, then.” He released her shoulders and straightened, blasting her with a smile that reached across the small space between them. She swallowed past the tide of longing and kept her gaze firmly trained on his, especially since she now knew what his lips tasted like and wouldn’t mind another sample.

  They headed toward the front of the train station, and Blake pulled out his phone and nodded. “I’ve got a buddy here who owes me a favor. I can call—”

  “No need.” She smiled at her foresight. She could do the life thing, regardless of what her parents might think. “I’ve got it handled.”

  “Oh?” Blake raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. I did some research before I left Seattle and found a European start-up company—kinda like Uber, except these are people who are actually headed to the place you want to go. So it’s not like they’re just driving around wasting gas between rides.”