“Someone’s coming,” she whispered.
Instinctively, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her around, shielding her from view, or enemy fire. But this was a bookstore in Vermont, not a war zone. Still, he didn’t step away.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, sending his racing heart into overdrive. Her lower body fit between his splayed legs. With her heeled sandals and long legs, he would only need to lift her another inch before sliding inside—if they were naked and he was ready. At the moment, he only had one of the two working in his favor.
When he was on a mission, the adrenaline sometimes left him standing at attention. A hazard of the job. But right now it had everything to do with the woman staring up at him as if she couldn’t wait for his next move. She shifted, rocking her hips against him. There was no way she could miss the hard evidence of just how turned on he was.
Her gaze drifted to his lips, an invitation to taste. Logan groaned, lowering his head until their lips were practically touching. And he hesitated. Releasing her waist, he ran his hands through her loose wavy hair, his eyes roaming over her parted lips. He wanted to kiss her. But not here. Not like this.
She pushed up on her tiptoes, making every muscle in his body aware of just how much he wanted her. Turning her head, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, “I think the coast is clear. On three, let’s make a break for it. My car is the blue Prius on the left. Ready?”
He nodded, relieved and at the same time wishing the full-body contact wouldn’t end.
“One, two, three,” she said.
He stepped away, letting her slip in front of him and lead the way to their escape car.
This was crazy, but right now he didn’t care. He felt alive and more turned on than he’d been in years—a helluva long way from that lonely cliff’s edge he’d been standing on for months.
* * *
SADIE PEELED OUT of the parking lot with Mr. Ruggedly Handsome in her passenger seat. Her hands gripped the wheel, her body tense with excitement. But as soon as they turned onto the main road, guilt crept up on her. She’d come to Vermont for her sister, not to “rescue” hot soldiers from a crowd of women—especially one still reeling from a recent breakup or worse.
God, what if he was married? Sadie took her eyes off the road long enough to glance at his ring finger. Bare. She let out a breath of relief.
Still, there was a story behind that brief moment of hesitation she’d witnessed earlier. If she had to guess, a complex one. Sadie had enough problematic relationships in her life right now. If—and that was a pretty big if—she decided to have a vacation fling, it wouldn’t be with a complicated man.
But Logan was a walking five-alarm fire. The anticipation of that almost-kiss had left her body on edge. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Turning left, she drove the length of the block, and turned left again.
“Mind telling me where we’re going?” he asked.
“Back to the parking lot,” she said. “I think the coast is clear by now. And to set the record straight, I’m not in the habit of kidnapping men I meet in bookstores.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Logan nod. “Go straight up ahead and turn left at the next stop sign. That will get you back there. The one-way streets here are like a maze.”
“You’re from the area?”
“Born and raised,” he said. “Where are you visiting from?”
“Manhattan.”
“Long way from home,” he said.
Distancewise it was a few hours by car, but after forty-eight hours in Mount Pleasant, her home felt like a faraway world.
“My sister is having a baby.” Sadie turned right, pulling in beside a large blue truck. “She asked me to come up and lend her a hand.”
She put the car in Park and turned to him. Tension radiated off Mr. Ruggedly Handsome. His mouth formed a thin, grim line. The playful, teasing man she’d seen in the bookstore had vanished.
“You’re the writer,” he said. “The one renting Lou’s guesthouse.”
Sadie smiled. “Word travels fast.”
“Small town.” Logan opened the door. With one foot on the pavement, he turned to her. “Thanks for the rescue. And to set the record straight, I’m not in the habit of letting beautiful women kidnap me.”
His words warmed her body. “Beautiful, huh?”
“I should be going.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Remembering their almost-kiss between the shelves? The heat in his eyes said yes. But she also saw regret. Maybe he’d meant what he’d said earlier in the store—he wasn’t ready. Perhaps the past still had a hold on him?
Logan exited the car, careful not to slam her door. He gave a little wave and then disappeared across the lot.
“Well, that’s a first.” She put the car in Reverse. She’d never had a man almost kiss her, call her beautiful and then disappear before he found out what she wrote.
Sadie turned onto the main road. She could always ask Laurel about the handsome soldier, but she didn’t want gossip. She’d rather hear his story from him. There was something about the longing she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. It left her wanting to do more than read sex scenes to him. She wanted to get to know him in bed and out, learn his secrets and unlock his mysteries.
4
“YOU’RE HOVERING.” Laurel stood in front of the stove, a wooden spoon in one hand, the other resting on her belly.
“You should sit down.” Sadie plucked the utensil from her twin’s hand. “Rest. You’ve been standing over that stove all morning.”
“We need food,” her twin protested.
“I just filled your fridge with groceries yesterday.” Sadie had been horrified when she’d looked through her sister’s kitchen and realized her twin was barely getting by foodwise. She knew Laurel and her husband had been struggling since Laurel had lost her job, but Sadie sent money every month despite Laurel’s protests. Her very pregnant sister should not be living off mac and cheese.
“I need to fill the freezer. Once the baby comes I won’t feel like cooking. And we can’t live on takeout up here like you do in New York.” Laurel snatched the spoon back and turned away from Sadie.
“Greg can cook for you. Isn’t that part of a husband’s job after the baby comes?”
Laurel snorted. “He’s not allowed in my kitchen. But even if I did let him in, he won’t have the time, between work and the baby—”
“Wait, Greg’s not taking time off?”
“He can’t afford to. As it is they’ve cut his hours at the plant back to thirty-two. That’s how we lost our benefits.”
“I told you I’d pay the hospital bills. If you need more so Greg can stay for a week or two, the money is yours. I have more than enough to cover whatever you need, especially after this next book comes out.”
“No. He can’t risk losing his job. I appreciate the offer. So does Greg. But we can’t turn to you for everything. We’re trying to get back on our feet. If Greg does well, if he works hard and gets promoted, we’ll have benefits again. And when the baby’s old enough, I’m going to find another job,” Laurel said, stirring briskly.
“I know you’re trying. Greg, too,” she said. “But you’re about to have a baby. He should be home with you in the beginning.”
“I’ll have you here,” Laurel said. “I won’t need him.”
“I’m here now. Why don’t you let me finish that while you sit down?” Sadie made another grab for the spoon only to have her hand slapped away.
“I need to cook. And you’re worse than Greg in the kitchen. Go. Write. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Your hovering is driving me batty.”
Sadie closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. Three days. She had been in town for seventy-two hours and they were already making each ot
her crazy. A month would be torture unless she started focusing on her book.
“Promise me you will rest after this casserole is in the oven,” Sadie said, “and I’ll leave you alone until dinner.”
“Scout’s honor.”
Sadie pursed her lips. “We were never Girl Scouts, Laurel.”
“I know.” Her twin waved the spoon at the screen door. “Out. Be back at seven for dinner.”
Sadie marched down the squeaky wooden steps and into the yard. She’d walked over. After living in Manhattan, it seemed odd to drive the equivalent of a few city blocks to visit her sister. She moved through Laurel’s overgrown backyard, not slowing down when she reached the mowed field indicating Aunt Lou’s farm. Following the fence line to the cow pasture, she headed for the red wooden barn. Her cute, quaint guesthouse stood on the other side of the cows’ home.
Sadie studied the barn as she approached. The building shone like a freshly washed fire truck in the midday sun. Someone had painted it recently. The metal gate at the front of the barn swung open. Sadie froze.
Mr. Ruggedly Handsome, the man who wanted “just hot sex, no whips,” walked out carrying a bucket. If she believed in fate, she would have thanked her lucky stars for depositing him on her doorstep. But she’d stopped believing in fairy godmothers and magic wands years ago. And destiny? It had never handed her anything. Her career, her success—those she chalked up to hard work and drive. No, it wasn’t fate; it was coincidence, and an opportunity to learn more about him.
Sadie watched him set the bucket down. Jeans hugged the backside she’d admired that first afternoon at The Quilted Quail and a gray army T-shirt showed off his muscular arms. Leaving the gate open, he disappeared inside. When he came back, he carried two more large blue buckets, his biceps flexing from the exertion.
Sadie bit her lip. She could return to her desk in the guesthouse and write, or she could offer to help Mr. Ruggedly Handsome with his buckets. Her brain didn’t even have a chance to vote before her legs started moving toward the barn.
She had hours to kill before dinner. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend her day than working alongside Logan, drawing him into conversation. She wanted to see him laugh again. He’d been full of humor at the bookstore, teasing her in the stacks. Then, one quick drive around town and he’d become withdrawn and quiet. Any woman in her shoes would be curious.
“Hi, stranger,” she said, offering him a smile.
Logan stopped a few feet outside the barn, but he held on to the buckets, which suited her fine. She didn’t mind seeing his muscles in action. His gaze ran down her body, taking in her plain black tank top, jean shorts that skimmed the tops of her thighs and slip-on canvas flats. Maybe not the best outfit for the farm.
But then he looked her straight in the eyes. Not a hint of disapproval there. No, she was willing to bet her next book advance that the soldier-turned-farmhand liked what he saw.
“Sadie.” The way he said her name—it was as if he’d expected to run into her. He paused before adding, “Good to see you again.”
She smiled. “I’m renting the guesthouse. If you’re working here now, soldier, you might be seeing a lot of me.”
“Lou is my aunt.”
Her smiled faded. He could have mentioned that in the car. Was that why he’d pulled away?
“I’m helping her out while I’m home,” he added.
“Need a hand?”
“I’m good. Just watering cows,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you.”
He turned to the fields. The water in the buckets sloshed up the sides with each step. Sadie fell in beside him. She wasn’t going to let him get away. Not this time.
“Laurel kicked me out. I could write, but I’d rather procrastinate and enjoy the fresh air.” She moved closer and that sharp need she’d felt in the bookstore sent her pulse racing. She wanted to grab the front of his T-shirt and pull him up against her. Instead, she reached for one of the buckets.
Logan stepped to the side. “I’ve got this. If you don’t mind walking through cow fields, I could use a hand running the hose out to the watering troughs near the barn. It will reach the first two enclosures.”
He was sending her out to pasture. Alone. “I think I can handle that.”
He nodded. “The hose is at the back of the barn. Half of the herd is in the first field, but they shouldn’t bother you. The back one is empty at the moment. I’ll be working in the front if you need help.”
Logan turned and headed off. Sadie took that as her cue to start her chores. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could find him and ask for another task, one that required two people. Eventually she’d learn why he was so intent on pushing her away.
Two hours later, Sadie knew she’d found trouble. She’d filled the first two troughs easily enough. Then she’d spotted the third, smaller pen with tall metal fencing set apart from the others with one big cow pacing in circles. Figuring she would be doing Logan a favor, one he might thank her for later, she pulled the hose over and opened the metal gate.
Big mistake. The cow, or rather the bull—how had she missed the horns?—charged past her, knocking her off her feet. Her eyes widened in horror. She waited for the animal to run for the road. But, no, he headed straight for the pastures Sadie had just watered, and gracefully—which was flat-out astounding given his size—leaped over the lower wire fence.
“Shit, shit, shit!” She sprung to her feet and ran for the barn. She needed to find Logan. Fast. And she had a sinking feeling this wouldn’t make him laugh.
* * *
LOGAN HAD KNOWN he’d run into Sadie. She was living on his aunt’s property. Part of him—the same part that reacted to the sight of her long legs in those shorts—had been eager to see her again. But common sense told him to stay away from the sexy, vibrant writer.
Ten paces back from the last empty water trough, Logan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Not many people had his number. It was probably Aunt Lou calling to harass him about the raffle.
Logan set the overflowing buckets down and retrieved his cell, glancing at the caller ID. Or his commanding officer calling him back to active duty.
“Colonel,” he said.
“Reed,” Lieutenant Colonel Walt Johnson barked. “How are you?”
He closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Fine, sir. Ready for duty.”
“I’m not calling you back yet. You’re to remain on R & R until we handle the fallout from your last mission,” Johnson said. “I am in New York with Chief Cross. Your teammate will be working with the writer who is so damn intent on digging into your little joyride. Cross will act as her official liaison, helping her set up interviews with your team. Unofficially, he’s under orders to control the message of her book.”
“Sir, if there is anything I can do—”
“There is. Sit tight and stay the hell out of trouble. Don’t talk to the press. I don’t care if a kid wants to interview you for their fourth-grade paper. The answer is no. Do you understand?”
There was only one response to that question. “Yes, sir.”
“Trust Chief Cross to do his job.”
“I do.” Logan’s team was like family. They had each other’s backs. Always. And Hunter Cross never failed when it came to a mission—or a woman. But if he messed this one up? Logan’s career was likely over. The last thing the top brass wanted to see was mistake and Special Forces in the same sentence. Not to mention the fact that after publicity had rained down on the SEAL team who’d taken out bin Laden, the army wanted the Rangers to stay out of the media. Period.
“Expect a call in the next few weeks. When that call comes, be ready to return to work. Do whatever you need to do. Talk to a shrink if that is what it takes. The minute you set foot on base, I need you here and focused. One hun
dred percent. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead. Logan slipped his cell into his pocket and reached for his water buckets. It was almost over. In a few weeks, this clusterfuck would be behind him. All he had to do was make damn sure he had a handle on how to move forward with his life, how to be something more than the guy who’d lost his young wife to cancer. And while he worked on that, he had to keep a low profile, stay out of the media and away from writers.
Like the one living in his aunt’s guesthouse and watering his cows. Didn’t mean he couldn’t daydream about Sadie’s long legs, or—
“Logan! Logan!” The mental picture in his head, the one he’d been unable to stop replaying over and over since she’d walked up to him wearing those too-short shorts, carried a similar soundtrack, but without the panic.
“Logan!”
He dropped the filled buckets and ran toward the sound of Sadie’s voice. She came racing around the corner, barreling straight into him. He pulled her close, preparing to take the brunt of the fall as they hit the ground. Stumbling back a step, he felt something hit the back of his knees, sending them both tumbling into a recently filled trough. She landed squarely on top of him, her long wet limbs tangling with his, rubbing back and forth as she flailed about in the water.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she said.
The adrenaline rush combined with the feel of her body against his. The wet, frantic friction overloaded his senses. He could feel every inch of her wet limbs gliding over his. And it was too damn much.
Without a word, Logan dunked his head back and let it sink under the water, hoping to find some perspective. But the only thing waiting for him was wanting. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it. The desire to strip away her shirt, to touch her, while she rode his thigh...
Christ, she’d knocked all the common sense out of him. He couldn’t go there. Not with her. As far as threat levels went, she was more than a few notches above a fourth-grade reporter, even if he didn’t know for sure if she was a journalist.
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