by Susan Lute
He pointed. Without care for life or limb, she took the rutted forestry road he indicated.
Ruthless speed and precision reflexes finally slowed her tumble. Catching her breath, she wrestled with the dread filling her mind.
The road took them into juniper covered hills. The man behind her swayed into the corners with her. The snug fit of his body at her back seemed shockingly natural, as if he’d been made just for her. When his hands splayed across her stomach, it nearly cost her the next curve.
She shot the bike into a small clearing, breaking hard, barely noticing the lake that sparkled just beyond in the sunlight. Flipping the kick stand down, she shut off the engine, practically tumbling sideways off the heavy machine.
Pulling off her helmet, she threw it at the ground. An instinct for survival had her spinning around to face her unwanted passenger, as she plunked tight fists on her hips to keep them out of trouble.
He slowly climbed off the bike, the look in his eyes predatory. He clearly wanted answers. Answers Jane wasn’t sure she had.
After landing his helmet next to hers, arms hanging loose, he confronted her, his booted feet planted wide. “What happened back there?”
“Nothing.” She went hot with embarrassment. Smoke screen. She needed a smoke screen. “So, Pete’s a girl.”
“So it would seem.”
He waited. She scrambled for another diversion; decided she had to throw him a bone. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but when I was Bobby and...Abby’s age, I wasn’t all that popular.”
“No?”
“In school, I was kind of a fringe kid.”
“Had a hard time fitting in?”
She sucked in breath to ease the tight band squeezing her chest. “Maybe they had a hard time fitting in with me?”
Amusement smoothed out the concerned lines bracketing Russell’s mouth. “So, were you a big track star, or a chess geek?”
She smirked, finally able to turn back some of the edges of the panic that had made her run from the barn, the kids and the vision of a life she wouldn’t know what to do with. “Detention was the sport I excelled in.”
He laughed. Her stomach took a killer tumble when he narrowed the distance between them.
“Tell me what happened back there,” he ordered softly.
Did she dare?
“Please.” The quiet request rumbled seductively from his chest.
Jane made herself meet his compassionate look head on. She didn’t want his sympathy, but her defenses were getting pretty battered in the attempt to keep her distance. “I had a panic attack.”
His penetrating gaze saw more than she wanted him to. “You haven’t told anyone about them, have you?”
“No. Can you just see it? A Marine who has panic attacks going into a hot situation? They’d boot me out faster than it would take them to write discharge orders. I don’t want a medical discharge. I want to go back to work.”
“So you’ve been trying to handle this all on your own. How long have you been having these episodes?”
Whirling away from him, she blindly made it to the lake’s edge where the water gently lapped at the shore. She was oblivious to its sunlit, glass-like surface. A gentle breeze cooled her flushed skin.
“Since I got out of the hospital.” She wished more than anything the tall solitude of the trees surrounding the lake could erase all her troubles.
“They didn’t start in Madrid?”
“No.”
Russell came up behind her, so close, the musk of his soap mixed with the earthy smells of the lake. “I know some techniques that will help you get control of the attacks.”
“What techniques? More play therapy?” She wanted to believe him. Spinning to face him, she tried to smile, falling desperately short of the mark.
“How to calm your mind. Uncovering what thinking patterns cause the attacks. Finding effective ways to intercept them.”
God, the woman was a fighter.
Chase watched her struggle, irrationally overcome by a sharp need to drag her close. He wanted to kiss the living daylights out of her, until all the painful memories went away, but was pretty certain she wouldn't approve of the out-of-line contact as appropriate adjunct therapy. Of course, he didn’t either.
His uncle had sent Jane to get control of her post traumatic stress disorder. All Chase could think about was this haunted woman who hid so much anguish beneath an impassive surface, tying him up with an overwhelming desire that demanded he help her any way he could.
It was a feeling he’d never experienced before. One he couldn’t shake as it morphed into something deeper, more impossible to ignore.
A pair of birds twittered in the branches over his head. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he tucked a wisp of hair behind Jane's ear, all but forgetting that letting his emotions take over was the very last thing he should do.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I know.”
She reached for him. “You’re my therapist.”
“Which only makes this a very big mistake,” he growled, brushing his lips across her parted mouth.
On what sounded like a ravenous sigh, she looped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. He dragged her against his chest. Trapped in her vanilla scent, he explored the pearls of her spine, dug into yielding shoulders. He persuaded her to come closer still, marveling at how perfectly she fit into his arms.
He knew what he was doing. Still had control. Just a minute longer, he bargained with the rational side of his brain, while throwing aside innate caution and vaulted ethics.
Just in time, he stepped back from the precipice, laid his forehead against hers. A shaky laugh escaped his chest. “We should stop.”
“You’re right,” she whispered before taking charge, capturing him in a meeting of lips that rocked him to his toes. A powerful drive to have her, right there beside the pristine lake, with the hard ground for a bed and only the sky for covering was his undoing.
Logic and good intentions fled. He gave into her bold, fascinating mouth; took advantage of the pulse at her temple, and the sensitive skin just south of her delicate ear.
Through the fabric of her top, he cupped her firm breast, flicked his thumb across the peak begging for his attention. A need he couldn’t analyze, urgent and more than just desire for physical release, struck. It left him hard and wanting more than he should consider taking.
“I want to do more than kiss you, Angel.”
Stormy blue eyes focused on him. The sun overhead sparkled off the strands of her pale hair.
“Angel?” Her voice was a distracted rasp, rough with unspent passion. A laugh broke free from her parted lips, turning his already beleaguered control to mush. “I’m no angel.”
“Are you sure? You have a halo-”
The timing was crappy, but suddenly it occurred to Chase he’d been missing something vital in his life. Even when he was at the top of his game in Seattle, there had been an empty place none of his former success had filled.
He dropped his hands. Sex with a beautiful, exciting woman was one thing. Getting emotionally tied up with a dyed-in-the-wool Marine, who would return to her unit without once looking over her shoulder, was the worst thing he could do.
“I’m sure.”
This time Jane was the one who backed off.
*
Back at the ranch house, Chase wondered who was the more wounded. The two kids who’d landed on his doorstep because of whatever situation had set them on the run? The Marine who carried an internal wound deeper than the one that left her with a cranky hip? Or the ex-therapist who’d once thought he had all the answers, but had nothing except an inconvenient case of the hots for a courageous lady who wouldn’t hang around once he’d given her the tools to take her life back?
If he was a betting man, he'd lay down money it was him. Of course that mind-numbing kiss had been a mistake. A setback.
This was the point where he was supposed to remind himself Jane belonged to the United States government. And he would, as soon as he erased certain pictures from his over fertile imagination. The first, of Jane in his bed. The second, the four of them - he, Jane and the two kids - forming an unlikely alliance, a family forged from mutual need.
The Corps didn’t care that the Gunny was a fascinating, arousing woman. Now that he understood the depth of what she was dealing with, he could keep his promise to his uncle and move her along. At least that's what he told himself.
The phone at his elbow rang. He snatched it up. “Hello?”
“How’s it going?”
Speak of the devil. Chase shifted the phone to his other ear, stabilizing the devise with his shoulder. “Uncle Matt.”
“Is she cooperating?”
A noise at his office door brought his head up. Jane stood there, had clearly overheard the booming question.
Cooperating? He locked stares with her and immediately flashed to that moment by the lake. She must have gone to the same place, because a hint of pink flooded her stunning face.
Since it wouldn’t be smart to alert his uncle to his momentary dive into the forbidden, he simply said, “You could say that. She’s right here. Why don’t you get a progress report from her?”
Rising from his desk, he backed Jane into the hall. The kids were lined up behind her, Abby hanging onto the Marine's belt loop like it was a lifeline.
He handed the phone to Jane, his fingers scraping briefly along her palm, causing a renewal of the craving that had gotten him into trouble at the lake.
Freeing Abby from her belt, and keeping the child’s small, trusting hand firmly in his own, he headed down the hall. “Come on, guys. We’ll fix lunch while Miss Jane takes this call.”
It would be safer all around if he gave them both some space while he got a handle on his randy hormones. The last time he’d let his Johnson do his thinking for him, he’d been a teenager. Taking a tumultuous trip down memory lane wasn’t an option for a grown man, who was supposed to be in control of his life.
CHAPTER
IX
Jane couldn't take her eyes off Russell, as he led the kids toward the kitchen. Okay, so she liked his kisses. Even more, she liked his clever hands on her body. But that was all.
As tempting as the notion was, and despite her fingers threading of their own accord into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, a session of therapeutic sex with her therapist wasn’t part of the mission.
“Gunny, how are you doing?”
The impatience in the Colonel’s voice demanded Jane’s full attention. “Better.”
To her surprise, it was true. Even with her recent panic attack, and her subsequent attempt to will it away by losing herself in Russell’s sexy embrace.
“Good. I have an assignment coming up I think you’ll be interested in.”
“I...um...need more time here.” Not because of Chase Russell, she promised the voice snorting in her head.
“You still have time. I want you in tip-top shape when you come back.”
Her mind wrapping around the discovery that she wasn’t chafing at the bit to rush home, Jane carried the phone into the kitchen. When she got there, lunch was apparently forgotten, since Russell was heading out the back door, the kids close on his heels.
“Yes, Sir.”
She followed them out, stopping at the edge of the porch, enjoying the view of the Doc’s long strides eating up the distance to a heavy duty truck parked by the corral. Gus was already there talking to a lady.
“Take care of yourself, Gunny. And, make sure my nephew doesn’t turn into a hermit out there.”
Russell motioned for Bobby and Abby to stay back.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that, Sir.”
“Good. Keep me apprised of your progress.” The line to her old life disconnected.
She idly wondered what the Colonel was up to, but didn’t have time to figure it out. She was more curious what was going on between the woman and Russell as they squared off.
After returning the phone to the kitchen, she joined the kids. “What’s happening?”
Abby grabbed her hand. “That’s Mr. Russell’s neighbor.”
The woman was dressed in well worn jeans and a practical western shirt, sleeves rolled up her to elbows, boots worn and dusty. A straw hat covered most of her short hair.
It didn’t look like it was the state of the union they were discussing.
The gal’s chin hitched to a stubborn angle. The anger in her voice carried. “I’m not here to sell you horses. I wanted to try one more time to persuade you to sell me your ranch.”
So, this was Russell’s lady. The one he was in negotiations with to sell him horses.
“Now Maxine-” Gus placed a placating hand on the woman’s shoulder.
The bits of hair poking out from beneath her hat were salt and pepper gray. The crow’s feet at the corners of her shrewd eyes cut deep, her skin tan and weathered like she’d spent a lot of time out in the elements. Maxine Connor was older than the contained energy her wiry frame hinted at. She visibly melted at Gus’ touch.
A sprig of envy shot through Jane. Russell’s neighbor was in love. With Gus. At an age, when it seemed as though that illusive emotion should have stopped screwing around with the old girl’s heart.
“Gus honey, you know this is ranch country, not a playground for bored city folk.”
“Ms. Connor, I’m not selling.” Russell ground out, his determination to stay put bringing up a longing Jane shouldn’t be having.
“You’ll change your mind,” Maxine said, then spun around to head for her vehicle.
His thick, white brows slamming together, Gus followed after her. “Maxine, now wait a darn minute.”
The older woman climbed into her truck, waved jauntily at Gus, then drove off. Her tires kicked up gravel on the way out.
“That went well,” Russell muttered, placing a hand on Bobby’s shoulder when he joined him.
For the first time in her career, Jane found herself disagreeing with a superior officer. Hermit or not, Russell belonged on this ranch. With these kids. Bobby and Abby looking up at him like he was their hero suited him.
Deep down in her heart sprang a secret wish that she belonged here, too. That somehow she’d managed to find her own hero.
She went absolutely still. Okay, that was way off base. Maybe she wasn't doing as well as she thought.
*
The next morning, Chase crossed his fingers that his long time friend Beth Greeley would see things his way. How many times in the course of their Human Psychology studies in college had they debated the merits of the current social services structure, agreeing that more community involvement could only make the system better?
After graduation, with her optimism and drive to make lasting changes, Beth had gone to work in the Department of Human Services, working her way to the top rung. Now his study buddy headed up the Crook County Child Welfare Department. She was the only one who could help Bobby and Abby.
After spending a restless night, between dreams of taking up where he and Jane had left off at the lake, and worrying about what to do with Bobby and Abby, he woke up early to see if he could talk Beth into letting him keep the kids at the ranch. At least until a better solution presented itself.
If in the process it helped the Marine with her recovery, more the better.
He frowned. She was work. Maybe more than work.
So were Bobby and Abby. But the truth was, sometime since the children's arrival, he'd discovered he didn’t want to turn them over to a system that might not have their best interests at heart.
And to be honest, in the darkness of a sleepless night, he’d realized he had his own answers to find. Answers he had an unsettling feeling these kids and one feisty Marine could help him with.
He dialed the number Beth had given him when she found out he’d bought a place in her county. An
assistant took his name and put him through to her office.
“Chase. What a pleasant surprise. I hope you’re calling to make a lunch date.”
“Lunch would be great, but that’s not why I called. I need a favor.”
“Does it have anything to do with the woman you’ve got staying at your place?”
“How do you know about her?”
“News travels fast in a small town.”
Chase gulped his lukewarm coffee. “Gunnery Sergeant Jane Donovan. She’s here on leave.”
“A girlfriend you haven’t told me about?”
“A job for my Uncle.”
“Really?” The one word was ripe with speculation.
Chase refused to discuss the Marine. It was bad enough he couldn’t keep her out of his dreams, without fighting daytime fantasies as well.
“She’s not why I called.”
“Too bad. But, if you ever want dating advice...” It was an old offer that went way back. Married now, with a kid of her own, Beth thought he should join the club.
“I’ve got two runaway kids staying here.”
Without breaking stride, she went from teasing friend to focused professional. “Where did they come from?”
“I’m still trying to find out. I’ve threatened to chain them in the dungeon, but so far, they won’t tell.”
Beth laughed. “What are their names?”
“They’re going by Bobby and Pete Jones. We found out yesterday the younger one is a girl, Abby.”
“We?”
Chase ignored her curious probing. “They’re brother and sister.”
“When can you bring them in?”
“That’s the thing. I want to keep them here. Just until we figure out who they are and why they’re on the run. I’ll sign whatever papers you need.”
As director, Beth had the leverage to make things happen that were outside the standard operating manual. He was counting on the fact that she was inclined to bend the rules if she thought it would benefit her kids.
“The only way you could keep them is if you became their temporary foster parent. That's not as easy as signing your name on the dotted line.”