A SEAL's Struggle

by Cora Seton

  Win cocked her head. “It would be a crying shame if it’s fallen down in the last hour or so.”

  They stared at each other. Win’s mouth quirked with the beginnings of a smile.

  Angus’s willpower dissolved like gelatin in hot water. He circled the table, took her in his arms, his heart melting at the pressure of her growing belly against his waist. This woman meant everything to him no matter how many concerns he had. He bent and kissed her, despite all his intentions to follow Boone’s directives.

  Win was soft and warm, her hair silky in his hands, her mouth yielding to his, her desire matching his own.

  His libido, shut down for so long, roared to life with such intensity Angus found himself wanting to crush Win against his chest, but he had to be careful—the baby.

  His baby.

  He forced himself to slow down, wanting nothing more than to carry Win to his unfinished tiny house, lay her on the unfinished floor and make love to her until the world ended.

  “Win—”

  The door to the greenhouse opened again, and they sprang apart.

  Win was pretty sure she heard Angus groan with frustration, and she didn’t blame him; she was frustrated herself. Would they ever get the chance to be alone together?

  “Uh… sorry to interrupt. Win? Can you come up to the manor?” Riley asked.

  Had she seen them together? Win wasn’t sure. Angus raked a hand through his thick hair and ambled back to his hydroponics setup, muttering under his breath.

  “Okay,” Win managed to say. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re… making plans for our next guests. Thought maybe you’d be willing to pitch in.”

  “Of course.”

  She exchanged a disappointed look with Angus when Riley turned to leave but followed her outside. Riley hadn’t talked to her much since she’d returned to Base Camp, and Win had a sudden surge of fear that maybe this summons was an excuse for the women to tell her they didn’t actually want her here at all, but when they reached the manor, she found Savannah in the kitchen pouring cups of tea for the three of them. Baby Jacob was asleep in a portable crib nearby.

  “How many guests are coming?” Win asked, taking a seat at the table.

  “Actually, would you mind if we talked about something else for a minute?” Riley asked with a significant look at Savannah.

  Savannah lowered herself into a chair and sighed. “Thank goodness Jacob’s asleep. He’s been nursing every hour on the hour lately.”

  “Growth spurt,” Riley said.

  “I wish I hadn’t missed so much of your pregnancy,” Win said truthfully.

  “I wish I hadn’t missed so much of yours.” Savannah smiled. “Congratulations. I hope you work things out with Angus.”

  “Me, too.” This was going much better than she’d expected. Neither woman seemed uncomfortable with her, and Win wondered if they’d decided to take her at her word that she was back for good, or maybe they felt sorry for her because of Leslie’s presence at Base Camp. She turned to Riley, wanting to keep the conversation flowing. “How are you feeling these days?”

  “I’m all right. The doctor says I’m out of the woods. Odds are low I’ll miscarry again now, although I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe until I hold my baby in my arms.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine,” Win assured her, more grateful than she could say that neither of them seemed ready to take her to task for leaving Base Camp. “So… what did you want to tell me? I thought maybe you were mad at me.”

  “No,” Savannah said. “I mean, it hurt when you left. I didn’t understand it, but with everything that’s happened since then, I think we’ve all learned that you never really know what’s going on in someone else’s life. I always thought you and Angus belonged together. I’m glad you’re back.”

  “What we’re hoping to find out,” Riley said, “is if you’ve talked to Avery?”

  “I’ve been sleeping in her tiny house; of course I’ve talked to her.”

  “I mean about what happened? With the stealing?” Riley played with her spoon.

  “I saw the episode, and it’s clear she’s mad as hell at Walker, which is fair, given how mad he was at her before he had all the information.”

  “If we’re being honest,” Riley went on, “we all got mad. Really mad. I thought she was trying to make us lose Base Camp, which I realized almost immediately was ridiculous. Avery loves it here, and I know that. We all fell for Clem’s game, and I for one feel awful about it.”

  “Now she’s really pissed at us,” Savannah said. “She’ll barely talk to us. She won’t help with the manor. She told Walker she won’t marry him.”

  “He proposed?”

  “No,” Riley hurried to say, “but she told him anyway.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “She’s not mad at you. Tell her how sorry we are. We miss her,” Savannah said.

  “We love her; she’s one of our best friends.” Riley bit her lip. “You’re a good friend, too, Win—”

  “I know what you mean.” Riley, Savannah, Nora and Avery had met in college. They had been inseparable before this rift occurred. “What does Nora say?”

  “She misses Avery. She blames herself for leaping to judgment, and at seven months’ pregnant, she shouldn’t be worrying so much. She needs to take care of herself.”

  Win understood Riley’s worry. Nora had been attacked some months ago. Her health wasn’t that strong.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back.” Riley gave her an impulsive hug. “Don’t give up on Angus; he loves you so much.”

  “I won’t, but I don’t think we’re going to get a minute alone together until Leslie is gone.”

  “Well, if you’re helping us,” Savannah said slowly, “I think it’s only right we help you, too.”

  “What do you mean?” Win took a sip of tea, savoring its soothing flavor.

  “I mean, maybe we can run interference for you once in a while.”

  “That would be amazing.”

  Win was heading back to the greenhouses when she met Renata on the path.

  “It’s almost hot,” Renata complained, shielding her eyes. “I guess you’re used to it, coming from California, but March in Montana shouldn’t feel like this.”

  “I think it’s warmer here than back home,” Win told her, lifting her hair to catch the breeze on her neck. Renata was right; it was warm today.

  “I assume you caught my meaning last night,” Renata said. “About telling the story of your past?”

  Win wished she hadn’t.

  “This show thrives on drama,” Renata went on. “You can’t ask me to ignore it.”

  “I wish you would, though. Isn’t having Leslie here drama enough?”

  “Not when it’s clear Angus has eyes only for you. Those two have no spark. I would have picked a much better candidate.”

  “Sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”

  “No.” Renata studied her. “Fulsom can stand anything but people messing with our advertising. He caved to those women more quickly than I’d have imagined.”

  “Doesn’t Fulsom have enough money piled up already?”

  “You know what I’ve learned from following a billionaire around?” Renata asked. “Rich people count their change. It’s normal people who throw money around like there’s no tomorrow. And you’re not a normal person, so you should know that.”

  Win thought about her parents and decided Renata was right; neither of them would pay cash for anything that could turn a profit on its own.

  “Anyway, your past is at the heart of your story. You can’t convince me otherwise, so start talking to your friends about it—on camera. Or I’ll have to do it for you.”

  “Got it.” But as she parted ways with Renata, she vowed to keep it to herself for as long as possible.

  “It’s not very practical,” Leslie said, turning in a slow circle so Angus could take
in the effect of her new Regency gown the following morning. Alice Reed had delivered it to Base Camp just after breakfast and encouraged Leslie to put it on. It was a far cry from the practical jeans and shirts Leslie had worn since arriving, and she stood awkwardly in her new clothes.

  “It’s pretty,” Angus said, aware of Win working diligently not three feet from where they stood near the door of the greenhouse. He’d spent another sleepless night, part of it doing guard duty, part of it tossing and turning in his sleeping bag. Byron had snored. So had Leslie, in quieter, gentler snorts. He didn’t know if Walker was sleeping at all these nights. He sure wasn’t.

  All he could do was dream about getting Win alone and having her every which way until dawn rousted them from their bed again. He was half-hard every time she came near. He’d snapped at Byron once already today.

  He’d finally taken Boone aside when Leslie visited the bathroom earlier and mentioned that maybe it would be good for Win to take on some different task than greenhouse work, but Boone nixed that. “She’s always been on the garden crew. Is she bothering you? I told her to keep her distance.”

  “She’s not bothering me.” It was just that he was getting hot and bothered by her proximity.

  Byron was filming them, as usual. Angus figured there was nothing for it but to get to work. He moved back to the table, and a few minutes later Leslie joined them there. His hydroponics systems were working fine, so today he was helping lift little plants out of their starter pots into bigger ones. Angus concentrated on the process and tuned out Leslie. She was talking about a way to streamline things in the greenhouse, and he knew he should be listening, but the truth was she’d said more since sunrise than most people said in a week. It was all too easy to treat her words like background noise.

  Win, on the other hand, was quiet, stretching every so often as if her back ached. He worried about her standing for so long when she was pregnant, and it irritated him that he couldn’t have a long talk with her about it.

  He got the feeling that she was irritated, too—with Leslie. Win was polite enough, although she never said more to the young woman than she could get away with, but he saw the same desire reflected in her eyes that he was feeling. Leslie, unconsciously or not, he wasn’t sure, seemed to understand her frustration and played on it, chatting and flirting with him whether or not he ignored her.

  When Leslie spotted some dead leaves on a seedling a row over and moved to snip them off, Win moved closer to Angus. “I just need—” She reached across him for another stack of pots, the movement leaving her cleavage uncomfortably close to his face. Her arm brushed his, and all he could think of was getting alone with her, undoing that dress, touching her—

  Win caught his eye, winked at him, and he almost groaned, but when he caught Leslie watching them, he quickly schooled his features to betray none of what was going on in his mind. He wasn’t sure it had worked. Leslie was frowning now, attacking the little plant with her scissors more aggressively than was called for.

  Win moved away again and got back to work, but Angus thought she was struggling not to smile. He tried to get his libido under control, but his traitor mind kept pulling up image after image of Win from the months they’d spent together last summer. Tantalizing images that left him aching in the most uncomfortable way.

  He tried to summon the most boring thoughts he could to counteract them. Offices. Desks. Time clocks. Staplers. He’d always hated the idea of desk work.

  There.

  He wasn’t turned on at all. He was just potting plants—

  Win moved close and reached across him again, this time for a trowel, even though she already had one. There was that cleavage. That elusive floral scent of hers. The brush of her arm against his. No, wait—

  That was her breast.

  God, the lass had beautiful breasts.

  Angus could picture them clear as day in his mind and remembered the feel of them, too.

  He glanced at Leslie, who was scowling.

  Hell.

  Conference rooms. Stale coffee. Computer screens. Whiteboards.

  Better.

  Concentrate on the damn work.

  Leslie moved down her row, trimming more plants. Win kept potting new ones.

  Kept leaning toward him.

  Kept brushing against him.

  Only when silence stretched for more than ten seconds did Angus focus again and find Leslie watching them with something dangerously akin to fury in her eyes. Her mouth had thinned into a line, and she picked up her things and marched back to his side, plunking them down so he was sandwiched between the two women.

  “Excuse me,” Leslie said pointedly, reached across Angus to grab one of the pots Win had just grabbed and brushed against Angus so hard he nearly stumbled.

  Her movement didn’t have quite the same effect Win’s had; she didn’t quite have the same cleavage, for one thing, nor did she have Win’s floral scent. Leslie smelled like… baby shampoo, he realized.

  “I’m using this.” Win hung on to the pot.

  “I need it.” Leslie gave it a hard yank just as Win let go, and she wheeled backward, her arm knocking a dozen plants over, spilling dirt everywhere.

  Leslie blushed scarlet, let go of the pot, stumbled a few steps, caught her footing and ran from the greenhouse. Byron, still clutching his camera, ran after her.

  “Aren’t you going to go after her, too?” Win asked innocently.

  “Not until I do this.”

  Angus cupped her jaw with both his hands, bent down and covered her mouth with his.

  If the greenhouse walls weren’t made of glass, she’d wrap her arms around Angus’s neck, jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. She wanted him—badly. Wanted to feel the hardness evident through all their layers of clothes pressed up against the core of her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so much need for a man before. Kissing him wasn’t enough.

  Angus’s hands slipped down to her shoulders, her waist, then lower still to cup her bottom and pull her against him. Win let out a sigh. His hands felt heavenly. His touch let her know how much he wanted her, too.

  When the door burst open, they jumped apart like teenagers caught necking on the front porch.

  “What are you two doing?” It was Byron, and he was looking at them like a child who’d just caught his parents putting the Christmas presents under the tree instead of Santa.

  “When Leslie knocked the table, I got a splinter,” Win improvised. “Angus was helping me.”

  Byron looked unconvinced. “Leslie’s locked herself in the bathroom in the bunkhouse. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe that’s her way of saying she wants to be alone,” Angus said.

  “I think you should go talk to her,” Byron retorted. “You’re supposed to be her fiancé.”

  “Not yet.” But Angus let out a breath, touched Win’s hand surreptitiously and made his way toward the door.

  “I’ve got to head up to the manor, anyway,” Win lied. “Planning meeting.” She brushed by Byron. What she really needed was some time alone to cool off. She’d been playing with fire just now and had set off a blaze. The greenhouse was warm, and her dress clung to her. She’d succeeded in discomfiting Leslie, although she wasn’t sure what the point of that was.

  She knew what Boone would say: she was putting all their futures in danger with her actions. She should be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t.

  Angus was hers, no matter what Leslie thought.

  For once, Byron didn’t follow. Apparently he thought he’d catch more action if he stuck with Angus, and Win found herself blessedly alone.

  She quickly headed down the rutted path toward Pittance Creek, hoping to reach the woods before any crew members spotted her. As the thrill of teasing Angus wore off, she realized how stupid she’d been and vowed to herself she wouldn’t do that again. She was a grown-up. She could be patient. If Angus said he wanted to be with her in the end, she believed him.

  A bird taking
flight high overhead reminded Win where she was, and she turned in a slow circle, scanning the woods, looking for anything out of place, like Mike Pierce, head of security for her family, had taught her long ago.

  Nothing was amiss. She wasn’t in danger, she told herself. Her parents’ warnings were scare tactics. It was broad daylight. She’d walked this path a hundred times with other people. Besides, she wouldn’t be gone long.

  Still, her insides twisted in a familiar way as she walked, until Win grew angry at herself. She spotted the creek in the distance and hurried toward it to prove she wasn’t a coward.

  Once she reached the creek, she was glad she’d persisted. The water was high in the spring runoff, and it was cooler here. She bent down and poked a finger in the water—freezing. It was far too early to wade.

  Still, it was a beautiful day. Birds were calling in the trees. Every now and then something scampered in the bushes—

  Win froze, still crouched by the water as she realized that scampering sounded an awful lot like footsteps. The sound came from the other side of the creek, loud enough to be heard over the ripple of the smooth-running water. Not an animal, unless it was a big one. Could she hide herself before whoever was coming spotted her?

  It’s just someone in the crew, she told herself as she scanned the area for cover, but she couldn’t make herself believe it, because why would they be on the other side of the creek? Besides, Win remembered what she’d read once, that human beings had instincts as finely honed as any other animal—if only they’d listen to them.

  With a quick movement, Win darted into the trees and just managed to conceal herself before a tall, dark shape moved through the woods across the water. She didn’t catch his face, but she studied his back as he kept going.

  The man was as brawny as Angus, with a similar crop of thick auburn hair. In fact, it was Angus….

  Win stepped out from behind her cover and opened her mouth to call out to him, but her shout died in her throat as the man disappeared in the tangle of woods farther downstream.

  Had it been Angus or someone else?

  Win wasn’t sure.

  How could Angus have made it from the greenhouse across the creek before she arrived? Hadn’t he been going to find Leslie? And Byron had been following him…