Her Master Defender

by Karen Anders

  “What is it?”

  “I devoted my life to the corps. I’m entangled and entwined with it and I can’t seem to separate—” He stopped again, shook his head. “I don’t do long-term commitments. I have casual sex.”

  “What are you saying? The corps comes first, even in this?”

  He looked her in the eyes. “It always has and I...”

  “You don’t have to say anything else.” Her face fell and the wonderful openness that had been there evaporated and disappeared. She closed down, and where there had once been desire, now showed only hurt.

  She pushed on his chest and he saw the blood from his cut on her clothes. She opened and reached into the medicine cabinet, pulling out bandages. He felt like a fool and didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. She pushed him again until he was sitting on the commode.

  He was going to say that this was more already and that he’d better stop it now before he got in too deep, got them in too deep.

  And right there was the raw, stunning truth of it. Shocking, really, since he’d never come up against that particular problem before. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected to here, now.

  “Amber.”

  “Please, don’t talk. I don’t want to know that I’m a secondary thought.”

  “That’s not it,” he said adamantly.

  “Okay,” she said. “The corps comes first. I get it. Excuse me if I’m sensitive about being an afterthought. I hate it. I’ve had a similar situation just recently where I came in second best and I’m just not up to that again.”

  He rose and grabbed her upper arms, his cut stinging now, dragging her against him. “What? Damn, Amber. You should have mentioned that,” he said testily.

  “I’m not interested in spilling my guts to someone who’s been nothing but disagreeable since I met him, especially about getting dumped.” Her face registered her surprise and then she looked downright embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that. Jeez, Michaels, you bring out the very best in me.”

  “Look, I’m not happy about this, either. It’s complicated.”

  “Right, and you hate that. You just want your sex easy and uncomplicated. Well, I’m easy. Wait, that didn’t come out right. I mean I can be casual about it and uncomplicated. I’m only here for a few days and then I’m off to the beach...alone.”

  “I wish this was easier,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can’t even unravel it myself, and until I do, I’m not going to do something that I would regret.”

  “Oh, for the love of Pete! Why couldn’t you have just...been...more of a...an...insensitive jerk?” she said and tried to get out of his grip.

  For some reason that made him laugh and she wasn’t amused at all. Damn if he didn’t want this woman, now. Right damn now. He couldn’t let her go, but he put his forehead against hers and ran his hands up her arms.

  “We’ve got to work together on this case...one that’s messing with my head.”

  “And you think dancing around this and pretending we don’t want to drag each other’s clothes off is preferable to just giving in to it, enjoying ourselves, then going on with life as it happens? I’m a big girl. I can handle disappointment. If that’s what happens. Who knows, we might go to bed once and find out it’s not all that we thought it was cracked up to be.”

  He gave her a fierce look. “That’s a load of bull and you know it. It will be good. Damned good.”

  She took a breath and looked at his face, her eyes going over him in a way that felt more intimate than touching him. She settled on his mouth and he groaned. “I want you. I can’t deny that and I don’t know what it is about you that makes me crazy just to look at you, so I concede that, yes, it would probably be out-of-the-world amazing. But us working together is going to be a juggling act anyway. Why can’t we just recognize all the bullcrap and still just do what we both want.”

  He took her hands from his waist and held on to them. “It’s not as if I don’t want to.” He cupped her jaw and cradled her delicate face in his hand. “But I won’t do something that may hurt you in the end, not until I’m sure about my own feelings in this. I’m going back into combat and there are other things you don’t know. I can’t muddle myself up more or be dishonest with you.” He stepped back, his body resisting the action with every beat of his heart, but he did it, nonetheless. “With any other woman, maybe, but not with you.”

  She lifted her hands in disbelief, then let them drop to her sides. “You’re really something else, Tristan.”

  “I’m sorry.” And he was. Sorrier than he’d ever been. But what he felt at the moment was relief, not fear that he’d just made a big mistake. Which told him it was the right thing to do. He stepped farther back before he changed his mind.

  “Have you ever thought about getting out?” she said, as his eyes drifted over her face, her lips.

  “Of the service?”

  “Yes, doing something else with your life.”

  He sounded so...spooked, he cleared his throat then responded. “I have thought about it. Even have a partnership offer from my former teammate Rock... Russell Kaczewski. But I’m not sure about leaving the corps. It’s all I’ve known.”

  “Of course. I get that. So...now what? We pretend that there’s no screaming sexual tension between us and just go about our business?”

  He clenched his teeth and then a smile worked at his mouth. She was direct. He liked that about her. “We try. At least until we find out what happened to James and get his death figured out. Until we know more about what’s really at stake here.”

  And he wasn’t talking about the case. The idea that he was worried about getting emotionally involved should have been the douse of cold reality her raging hormones needed.

  Not so much, as it turned out.

  “I already know all I need to know.” She turned away and went to the bathroom door, then stopped abruptly, her back still to him. Even in the dim lighting, he watched as her shoulders slumped a little and finally felt the twinge of the regret he’d hoped not to feel.

  “I believe there’s a cold shower with your name on it,” she said at length, quietly, but with no overt recrimination in her voice, either. Weary resignation was more like it.

  He took a step toward her, couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding over her. “It’s not because I don’t want you. But because we’ll want too much.”

  Or I will.

  * * *

  Amber woke to the scrape of a snow shovel and the sound of the rough motor of the snowplow as it trundled past the house. Even though she’d grown up in Vermont, she had never wanted to live there. It was too cold, too much snow, too...not cosmopolitan. She’d got out as soon as she could. Now she only liked snow to ski on. That was it.

  Groggy, she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. Damn, what time was it? She grabbed her phone and woke it up. Six thirty. That was what she got for being in the company of a military man.

  Then the fog cleared and she remembered. She flopped back onto her pillow and stared unseeing at the ceiling. It had driven her crazy because she’d been truthful. He made her crazy and had been driving her to the edge since he’d walked through the colonel’s office door, looking both hot and cool in his uniform, his features drawing her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him, standing there in the bathroom, all gorgeous muscle and that pain in his eyes. The way he had sounded and tasted as he pinned her to the sink. The feel of him, strong, hard, sure, moving between her legs. All but dragging each other into whatever bedroom was the closest.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Rejected twice in one week. The rawness of Tristan’s rejection hurt the worst. Which was really strange because she’d known him for a lot less time. And maybe she was trying to compensate for her feelings of inadequacy when it came to not only Pete’s rejection but to Chris’s blatant
response that she was just the next-best thing.

  She sighed and decided to be an adult about it instead of a whiny bitch. Push her percentage back up and over, into more sweetheart. She wasn’t really mad at Tristan, not really. He hadn’t been playing games. He’d been sincerely confused, trying to do what he thought was right. Odd that he thought he’d disappoint her in some way, when he seemed to have a stronger sense of himself and their usual dynamic than she did. Maybe that was part of his problem, too.

  She heaved one last self-indulgent sigh and got up. He was probably right anyway. It probably was better, or at least smarter, for them to leave well enough alone. She talked a good game about them being consenting adults who could do what they wanted, when they wanted, but he might have had a teensy point there about risking wanting more. Wanting too much.

  What was important was finishing out this investigation into Connelly’s death and getting herself to Aruba. For just a moment she thought about how exciting it would be to go with Tristan, explore every inch of his damn fine body, but that was a fantasy. The reality bite of going to a tropical island with more time to kill than she knew what to do with was probably going to be torture.

  He was a corps guy and she wasn’t going to play second fiddle to the damn military. No damn way. She had more pride than that. He would reenlist, get back to making war, and she would go back to DC and... She squeezed her eyes closed. Be Chris’s second choice.

  Dammit. She would just have to work harder. The residual from growing up in the shadow of her sister needed to be jettisoned. She would have to make that her number one priority in the coming year. There. She was thinking about a future apart, which meant that somewhere in her subconscious she’d at least contemplated the idea of a future together. Which was completely impossible. Grumpy bastard meets optimistic albeit neurotic NCIS agent—whom he hates. Yeah, like that was ever going to work.

  Her cell rang and she answered it. “Dalton.”

  “Agent Dalton, this is Corporal Sheppard. I’m sorry to bother you, but I didn’t want to tell this to the Sarge when you interviewed us because he was so broken up over James.”

  “What is it?”

  “James worshipped the Sarge. He told me that he wanted to go up into the mountains and pit himself against the elements and prove to the Sarge that he was tough and capable. I told him the Sarge already knew. I’m afraid he might have done that. Gone up there. I don’t know for certain. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin his...challenge. I also didn’t want him to get into trouble. But now, now that he’s dead...” His voice clogged with emotion. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. They might have... I don’t know.”

  “Corporal Sheppard. Thank you for telling me this. If you want my opinion, I don’t believe he would have done that and gone against Sergeant Michaels’s orders.”

  “You’re probably right. That’s why I didn’t say anything to him. Could we keep this between us? It will kill the Sarge if he hears it. He’s got enough to deal with.”

  “Absolutely, Corporal Sheppard.”

  “Goodbye, ma’am.”

  “You take care.”

  She disconnected the call and squeezed her eyes closed. She decided to keep this information to herself. Tristan didn’t need to know and the investigation wasn’t complete. If it had to come out, she would divulge it. But she knew it would devastate him to think that James had gone alone into the mountains to prove himself to Tristan.

  The man was so damned honorable.

  As honorable as he’d been last night. Damn him. She glanced at the bed anyway. He could be sprawled there right now, sheets draped over a body she might have pressed against so intimately last night, her hands molding over every hot, muscled part of him...the power of his body taking hers, moving against her, driving her crazy... Yeah. She might find herself wanting a bit too much.

  She stripped out of her jammies and slipped on a pair of yoga pants and racerback bra, both in a hot pink.

  She pulled her hair back and took a deep breath. Slipping out of the room, she grabbed her mat and rolled it out on the floor. Tristan was outside. She could still hear him shoveling. She tapped her phone and started up her soothing music, a beautiful blend that she’d got from Vin’s fiancée, Sky. She let the cares and worries drift away.

  She made the mistake of looking outside. Tristan was clearing the walk and she unabashedly watched him. He had on only a sweatshirt and a pair of tight, sinful jeans. That sexy spiked flattop and his unshaven face. Damn, he sorely tested her sense of balance. Their chance bond was as unexpected as it had been unwanted. She didn’t mind him being more approachable, but she could ill afford to let herself become any more attracted to him. For one thing, she hadn’t yet determined if he was friend or foe with his grouchy attitude. Although, there was something surprisingly sexy about his grumpiness. But even if it was the former, she didn’t want to risk being rejected again...well...unless he made the next move. And that was unlikely after his reluctance...ah...no, his out-and-out resistance. She shouldn’t have given in to temptation. Very potent temptation. Besides, what was the point? Her time here was limited.

  He reached the edge of the path and she watched him walk, just move. Man, he was...gorgeous.

  He turned abruptly and she jumped back. She wasn’t sure if he’d caught her staring or—ogling was probably a better word. She dropped to the floor and immediately started stretching. The door opened, bringing him in along with the chill air. He stamped the snow off his boots and unlaced them.

  She could feel his gaze on her. “Good morning,” she said, looking up at him.

  He grunted and leaned back against the closed door. She tried not to stare at the way his folded arms pulled the fabric of his sweatshirt tight over his biceps. Or the way it made his shoulders look wider. She forced her gaze up to his.

  “I reported the car that almost hit you to the police department.”

  Now that she was more in tune with him, she saw that he was working hard not to notice her. “Thank you. He was driving pretty erratically.”

  He nodded and turned to go into the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you come over here and try this. You really could use...”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I don’t bend into a pretzel.”

  “Oh, come on, Tristan. It doesn’t hurt and you’ll feel great.”

  He looked away and murmured, “I doubt that.”

  “I’ll show you one position.”

  He closed his eyes and swore softly under his breath. “Is it your plan to torture me now?”

  She jerked up and said, “No, jeez, I was just trying to help.”

  He came over to her and said, “And you think that watching you—” he swung his hand around, indicating her elongated body “—is going to help me? The word position also should be struck from your vocabulary while you are here, or whenever I’m within earshot.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’ Now she has it,” he mocked.

  “I get it,” she grumbled. “But it would still do you some good.”

  He walked away just as her cell phone rang.

  “Special Agent Dalton,” she said, picking it up and activating the call.

  “Agent Dalton, this is Officer Mendez calling from MWTC PD.”

  “Yes.”

  “We tracked down the owner of the vehicle that Master Sergeant Michaels reported almost hit you. The car belongs to a man named Randall Mayer. He works at HQ as a clerk. We’re in the process of tracking down both him and his car. We’ll let you know when we find him so that you can come in and lodge a complaint.”

  “Thank you.”

  She walked into the kitchen and Tristan was getting the coffee ready to brew. She understood why he wasn’t willing to jump into bed with her, and she was sure that if he’
d continued kissing her as if he was going to inhale her last night, that was exactly where they were headed. She had no doubt. She shocked herself. She never did that kind of thing. Ever.

  It also stuck in her craw that he was putting the military first. First she got dumped by a guy long-distance, one who had got engaged without telling her. Then she ended up in the middle of nowhere when she was supposed to be on vacation and a really sexy, albeit screwed-up guy rejected her.

  Yeah, she was batting a thousand.

  “You want coffee or you just going to stare at me?”

  “I could do both. I have multitasking skills. And, since you’ve already rejected me once, I think I’m safe.”

  He leaned back into the counter and very slowly let his gaze go over her from the top of her head to her toes. “You’re not safe, Amber.”

  Suddenly she wanted to stick her head into a snowbank. Hoo boy.

  “That was the police. The car belonged to Randall Mayer. Officer Mendez said he works at HQ as a clerk.”

  “I know that guy. I’ll be happy to set him straight about driving around the base intoxicated.” He shifted and leaned back. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “I want to go back up the mountain.”

  “Amber, I’ve got to tell you that it’s unlikely we’ll—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, but it’s a chance to gather more information. Until the autopsy report comes back we’re kinda dead in the water.”

  “If James was shot somewhere other than where he was found, there’s very little hope of discovering it. There’s been at least eight to ten inches of snow since we were last up there.”

  She just stood there with her NCIS face on. Vin and Beau had taught her to use it when someone was reluctant to do what she asked.

  He sighed. “Amber.”

  The NCIS face got fiercer.

  He sent his hand over that tantalizing mop of flattop hair she wanted to get her hands on.

  He really needed to shave because he looked so damn good with stubble, and she really should stop staring at his mouth. Like now. Really, stop.