Texas Blaze

by Jean Brashear

  Bridger was first inside and heard the screams as he barreled up the stairs.

  In his headset he heard Larry yell from outside, “Oh god no!”

  And the bullhorn from his chief. “Ma’am, help is coming. Don’t throw—”

  However bad they’d thought this might be…

  It was worse.

  He charged through the bedroom door just as the woman cradling a little girl the age of Lilah Rose leaped through the open window, screaming.

  Bridger yelled and leaped for her—

  Chapter Seven

  “Bridger’s in trouble?” Pen echoed Mackey’s words as he entered the courthouse kitchen. “What happened?”

  “He put himself in harm’s way two days ago, trying to keep a mother from leaping out an upstairs window with her baby. He could have died—” Mackey shook his head impatiently. “Good thing he’s strong as a bull. He managed to save the woman, but…he’s on suspension.”

  “Why on earth—?”

  Mackey sighed. “I don’t have all the details, but his buddy Larry—remember him from the work day?”

  She nodded.

  “He called me. The mother lost her hold on the baby. The baby didn’t make it.” Mackey’s jaw ground. “You might not know how he feels about children, but—”

  “He’s like the Pied Piper. I saw that when he was here.”

  “Yeah. He’s always been that way. In Afghanistan, he always had a pack of kids following him around and even before, in Iraq.” He cleared his throat. “There was this incident when the tangoes—terrorists—blew up an orphanage run by a non-profit helping Afghani orphans be adopted by Westerners. All the children were inside, and anyone who tried to help was shot by snipers.” She’d never seen Mackey look so serious. “We got there too late, coming in from a mission, and still Doc tried to get into the burning rubble in case—” Mackey shook his head. “He took it hard. I’m not exactly sure why he has such a thing about protecting children, but it’s real.”

  “He wants a whole brood, he told me. Apple pie, ivy-covered cottage, the whole deal.”

  A small smile. “Doesn’t surprise me. When the rest of us were tomcatting around on leave, Doc was usually the one who kept his head about him. I mean, women were always interested, and he could have had his pick, but…boy’s almost like a monk.”

  She couldn’t help the lift in her eyebrows. Monk? Not the man who’d made her whole body ache. She forced herself to return to the topic. “So if he’s not hurt, why are you worried about him?”

  Mackey studied her. “I think you should go. Bring him back here.”

  “Me?” An astonished laugh burst from her. “Why would I go get him? And why would he come here?”

  “I can’t leave. The adoption hearing could happen any day.”

  “So…?”

  “He likes it here.” His eyebrows waggled, just a little. “And he likes you.”

  She didn’t allow one muscle in her face to betray her. “He’s barely met me.”

  Mackey grinned. “Don’t try to play a player, Princess. A blind man could see the sparks flying between you two.” He exhaled. “Bridger’s captain wants him to take some time off. He’s not real good about taking vacation, apparently, and this last fire has gotten into his head.” He pinned her with his gaze. “I think Bridger needs Sweetgrass, and SEALs never leave a buddy behind. I can go get him, but I can’t risk delaying finalizing Eric’s adoption. That boy’s been through too much.”

  What she knew of the abuse Eric had endured, the horror no small boy should have to know anything about, told her Mackey was right. Her sister would crawl through the fires of hell for the child, and Eric had already wormed his way into her own heart. “Why would Bridger listen to a word I say? And how do you know I don’t need to go back home?” She heard the hollowness when she said the word home. She had no idea where that place was anymore.

  “Do you? You haven’t said what’s wrong, but something is, isn’t it?”

  She so was not ready to tackle that topic. “I’ve never used much vacation time either. It was piling up.”

  Mackey’s eyes said he suspected there was more to the story, but he didn’t badger her. “Penny, I’d really appreciate your help. Bridger saved my life more than once—he saved all of us.” His eyes were sad, and she recalled that not all of their team had come back from their last mission.

  Mackey was a scoundrel, but he was a good guy and the love of her sister’s life. “This is crazy. I have no idea how you think I’m going to convince Bridger of anything.”

  Mackey grinned. “Flash those long legs at him, and he’ll be your slave forever.”

  “You are such a jerk.” But she smiled right back at him. “So where in the wilds of Tennessee would I find him?”

  “Jackson said his plane will fly you there whenever you’re ready.”

  Her twin had not been much in evidence, spending most of his time at Veronica’s flower farm while juggling his business empire. Pen wasn’t really surprised—though the two of them had a history they wouldn’t discuss, it was also clear that there was still a boatload of emotion swirling between them. She could not imagine how betrayed Veronica must feel after Jackson had apparently abandoned her, too, but Pen didn’t know the other woman well enough to ask. And how Jackson felt about Veronica marrying one of his best friends and having three children with him…

  Love was crazy complicated, as she well knew—however misguided her attempt at it had been.

  But since she had no idea how to resolve her own situation, she might as well go to Tennessee, she guessed.

  “You owe me,” she said to Mackey.

  For once the jokester was solemn. “I know I do. Thanks, Penny. He’s a good guy—the best. And Sweetgrass can work miracles.”

  It hadn’t for her, she started to say, but she realized she was wrong about that.

  Sweetgrass hadn’t fixed her problems, but she felt oddly safe here. It wasn’t a place for her to stay, but it was a refuge. Maybe it would be a good one for Bridger, too.

  And if a part of her felt a delicious kind of shiver deep inside at the thought of him being nearby again…

  So sue me. He’s hot, he’s sexy…maybe a fling is just what the doctor ordered.

  She smiled. She couldn’t believe she was considering seduction as her means to get him to return to Sweetgrass with her…

  But she was a pragmatic woman.

  It would work.

  Jackson had not only offered his plane, but he’d arranged for a car for her after she’d refused his offer of a driver.

  She couldn’t really get used to the notion of her brother being rich as Croesus. How on earth had he flown so far below the radar, given the astonishing level of his success?

  He was also just a wee bit overprotective, she saw as she perused his idea of a proper vehicle for her. He’d wanted to accompany her and had issued any number of caveats, had even, apparently, run a background check on Bridger before he’d let her go to the man—

  Let her. Good grief. She’d been on her own for years and years. She didn’t need a keeper, but her brother—the elder by seven minutes—had appointed himself her guardian as though he had any right to say one word about where she went and what she did—

  Chill, she cautioned herself. He meant well. Jackson’s life was in upheaval right now. The twin bond told him more was wrong with her than she was letting on.

  She wasn’t ready to talk about any of it, though with his resources, he might already know what those in Sweetgrass didn’t.

  He had no right to her secrets, though. Not yet. Their bond had been badly frayed by his disappearance, his refusal to stay in contact. He could have avoided Sweetgrass and still have stayed in touch with her, damn it. She wouldn’t have told anyone.

  Instead, he’d only let Aunt Ruby know he was alive. She had been in touch with Jackson all along.

  Lordy, what a tangled situation they had in Sweetgrass, she thought as she fired up the enormous Ra
nge Rover her brother thought she needed for protection.

  It was a pretty sweet ride, she admitted as she drove down the road. Her brother had taste, that was for sure.

  She focused on the GPS and the turns she’d have to take to locate the man who’d taken up way too many of her thoughts since she’d last seen him.

  Bridger heard an engine coming around the bend in his private road and frowned. He didn’t want any company.

  He didn’t want to be here. He needed to work.

  His captain had other ideas, though.

  The vehicle emerged through the trees, and his eyebrows rose. Who on earth could that be, in that pricey excuse for an SUV?

  The vehicle stopped, and an endless pair of legs appeared beneath the driver’s door.

  Bridger went very still.

  The woman shut the car door, and his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She approached in a catwalk saunter that made the moisture pool in his mouth. Good God, this woman did things to him.

  She tilted her sunglasses to reveal those eyes that brought to mind sandy white beaches and clear turquoise sea. Warm, sensual nights under the stars.

  “Hey there, Hotshot.” With a grin full of attitude, she closed the distance between them. Pressed against him and slid one hand into his hair, turning him rock-hard and breathless. “How’s it hangin’?” Then she laid her mouth on his and proceeded to kiss the socks off him.

  His mind went blank.

  But his body was yelling Now! He gripped her hard, grabbing that astonishing ass in both hands and hitching her up off her toes so she had to wrap her legs around him.

  She gave a little squeak of surprise that slid into a breathy moan. Her expensive sunglasses fell to the ground, but she didn’t even react.

  Bridger turned and made his way across the porch, yanking open the screen door and heading straight for his bedroom. He’d had no idea when he’d awakened this morning that this—she—was exactly the distraction he needed.

  But he damn sure did now. He kissed her and kissed her, rubbing their bodies together as she writhed, too, her nails scraping his scalp, her head slanting to get more of him.

  Sweet heaven above.

  He could hold no coherent thoughts as he tossed her to the mattress and started yanking off her clothes and his, their hands grazing as each focused on getting the other naked.

  Only Mine.

  And Yes.

  And More.

  She laughed, and he wanted to laugh with her.

  This was insane.

  It made no sense.

  They couldn’t—he didn’t—she wasn’t—

  Screw it. He could not care less.

  Bridger growled and put his mouth on her.

  Oh. My. Sweet—Pen could not believe how fast this man had shot her into the red zone.

  She had no idea what had possessed her to take this approach, only the certainty that he would not welcome sympathy, would not be talked into coming to Sweetgrass for his own good.

  Kissing him was an impulse—that burst into an inferno she was not at all prepared for.

  Who was she kidding? She was so ready for this man. His hands were a miracle, and his body…she could only stifle a guttural moan. She’d grown too accustomed to the bodies of men who worked in offices. Yes, some of them worked out—most everyone these days paid lip service to exercise—but this…

  Oh heavens, this…

  Bridger’s body was tough and hard and scarred. He had a tribal tattoo around one bicep, and a symbol she didn’t recognize on his left pec. His belly was ridged, his hips were lean, his arms and shoulders amazing.

  And his—“Oh!” she cried out as he put his mouth on her breast. Bit her lip as he suckled one nipple while deftly teasing the other.

  And then he went on the prowl over what felt like every last inch of her.

  Except the one place she was desperate to have him.

  She grabbed for him, wanting to surfeit her fingers with the feel of those acres of muscles.

  He took himself out of reach. Moved down to her toes. Used his lips and tongue in ways that overloaded her senses, rendered her unable to sort out what he was doing.

  He kissed her everywhere.

  Except—

  Her back arched, her toes went on point, the muscles in her legs trembling with the ache of wanting…

  He nipped at her thigh. “Penelope, you have got some legs on you. Sweet mother of—” He nipped at the other thigh, just a little higher.

  Pen whimpered. “Bridger, please…”

  He moved upward one inch.

  One. Inch.

  “Bastard.”

  “Sorry, no. Boringly legitimate, I’m afraid.”

  Boring. A word that would never, ever be applied to the man whose big hands held her hips in a grip that made her feel dainty and delicate—two adjectives she would never have applied to herself—“Aaiiy!” she squeaked as he licked up her inner thigh.

  “Gotcha. Thinking too much there, Legs. Can’t have that.”

  “Thinking? I’m going to scream if you don’t—”

  He chuckled. Raised himself over her, muscles bulging as he held that big hard body above her. A grin flashed. “If I don’t what?”

  His voice was silk and rough velvet. Those amber eyes with that black ring around the edges…

  He was beautiful. He’d hate the word but—

  “I said stop thinking.” He kissed her. The kiss turned so carnal, so incredibly, astonishingly, mind-blowingly—

  He jackknifed back down and nipped at her pubes. Pressed his teeth over the plump lips.

  She came off the bed with a shriek.

  Then his tongue delved in.

  Pen screamed. Shot high, higher as he worked his magic, as he sent her soaring and spinning and climbing toward—

  Abruptly his mouth left her.

  She whimpered.

  His big hands were deft as he found a condom and donned it.

  Then those same powerful hands wrapped her thighs. Parted her legs. “Look at me.”

  The anticipation was unbearable. He hovered above her, a tawny god, a lion mounting his mate—

  He thrust inside, and Pen came, just like that.

  And lost her mind somewhere in the exquisite spiraling whirlpool of Bridger’s lovemaking.

  Some time later, they lay gasping. Pen’s mind was a muddle.

  But her body was singing.

  “You killed me.” His voice against her throat was husky. And gorgeous and oh, man, she wanted another round of this.

  “You’re breathing,” she managed.

  “Barely. Mother of—” One hand gripped her waist.

  She wanted to sigh at the feel of him. Touch me again. Everywhere, she wanted to say. Never stop.

  Crazytown thoughts.

  He levered himself up, hovered over her, those amazing muscles in high-def.

  “I could eat you up,” she said. Then pressed her lips together. “Um…I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m okay with that. Go for it.” He rolled off and collapsed on the mattress.

  She gathered herself to rise and dress. She never lingered after sex.

  But wouldn’t you know it? Bridger was a cuddler. He drew her back against him as though she weighed two pounds. Rolled to his side and tucked her bottom into his belly.

  “Good grief, you’re a machine.” She could feel the evidence. Smiled.

  “I’m nowhere near done with you, Penelope.” His voice was lazy and slow with approaching sleep.

  And she, who always slept poorly and never dared take a nap, felt herself being dragged under with him into the land of sweet, soft dreams.

  What the hell was she doing here? he asked himself as he watched her sleep.

  It was a new look for her, soft and willing, not fighting every last thing she couldn’t control. She looked vulnerable, even a little defenseless, and he wante
d to cuddle her again.

  Nearly as much as he wanted to make love to her. Man oh man oh man…he’d never been with a woman like this one, all sharp angles and constantly thinking, planning, analyzing. Looking for the edge. Unable to trust, unwilling to give up the advantage…

  But that was Pen, and he was finally looking at Penelope, the woman she tried so hard not to be.

  And there was that body. Sweet honey in the rock, he’d always thought he preferred innocence and softness. There was nothing innocent about this woman, and she’d die before she’d let herself be soft. She was tough and challenging and so sexy she made his teeth ache. Made him want to lock them in a room for days or weeks or however long it would take to burn out this constant simmering need that could burst into flames even he could never extinguish.

  He shouldn’t let himself get this stirred up. She was trouble, and she was temporary, neither of which he wanted.

  And she was complicated. Yet another no-no.

  But his body didn’t care and neither did his hunger.

  With a shake of his head and a smile, Bridger bent to her. Keeping his lips carefully light, his touch barely a feather…slowly, carefully, he lured the siren from her slumber.

  Chapter Eight

  Pen awoke by inches, her body warm and aching. A low-level tingle was warming to a burn, and she stretched sinuously. Her hips gyrated as her pelvis curved upward in search of—

  Wet warmth licked down her—

  Her eyes popped open, sensation roaring over her like sound emerging from vacuum.

  Tawny, blazing eyes greeted her. A smile as he lifted his head. “Hello there.”

  She shivered. “Bridger…” She tried to gather her wits. “What—what time is it?”

  One eyebrow arched. “Do you care?” His hands began to move in tantalizing gestures.

  “I—”

  His head dipped again, his tongue darting.

  “No—um—” Her breath hitched on a gasp. “No!” The tickle of his laughter only made her writhe more. “Bridger, please—”

  He smiled. “Let it go, Legs.” Then he bent again to make…magic. To torture her endlessly, to taunt and tease, to tantalize but never—