10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  Shit. Where the hell had that thought come from?

  “Yo? Captain? Earth to captain? My eyes are up here.”

  He heard her words, followed by a clicking noise. Mitch blinked again, and realized the woman was not only snapping her fingers, she was smiling.

  “That’s better,” she said. “So, can I have my clothes back?”

  “No.”

  Hah! That wiped the smile from her smug face. Shit. Wait. Now she was striding closer, green gaze glistening like twin emeralds, a bounce rippling through gorgeous, full breasts, despite the tightly wrapped towel.

  “No?”

  Heaven help him, she grabbed the edge of the table and leaned closer. His mind went blank. What a view! Her delectable cleavage and all that silky skin filled his horizon. She was flawless, supple and he wanted desperately to explore.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Yes…

  “Captain!”

  He jumped, and reluctantly ripped his gaze from her mind-drugging curves. “What?”

  “I want my clothes. Now.”

  She reached for a pile. But he was quicker. He grabbed her wrist, and a damn fission shot through his body again. What the hell? She yanked free and stepped back.

  Ignoring the pounding in his veins—and both heads—he slowly rose to his feet, positioning himself between her and the table. Hell if he’d allow her to take anything until he knew it was safe.

  “I’m not done yet.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” She groaned. “It’s just my clothes.”

  His brows shot up. “Really?” He reached behind him for the strange little packet of pills he’d found. “Then where the hell do you wear these?”

  A small smile tugged at her lips, and son-of-a-bitch, a spot of color seeped into her cheeks. She was blushing. Why was she blushing? Spies don’t blush. Do they?

  “You don’t wear them. Y-you take them.”

  He waved the packet. “No shit.” What did she think, he was an idiot? His heart hammered and he wondered just what she’d planned on doing with the pills. He stared hard at his blushing abductor, but spoke soft. “You plan on drugging me, Samantha?”

  Amusement flittered through her remarkable eyes. “No. Not unless you’ve grown a pair of ovaries.”

  There wasn’t anything funny about…Wait? Ovaries? He glanced at the pills.

  “They’re my birth control pills, Mitch. Give me them.” She stepped closer and reached for the packet.

  Birth control what? He held the pills out of her reach and frowned down. “Control birth?” Shit. “Are you pregnant?” Cripes, he hoped not. Not after the way he manhandled her today.

  “No!” She shook her head, her shoulders rounding in exasperation. “I’m not pregnant. The pills prevent pregnancy.”

  Was that even possible? Maybe. He wouldn’t put anything past the Germans.

  He folded his arms across his chest, his body heating before he even got the words out. “So, you are planning to seduce me.”

  “What? Oh for the love of…” Her mouth clamped shut, eyes glittered and body stiffened. “If you must know, I need the hormone therapy to help with cysts. I have to take one pill a day at the same time every day, and I’ll need one first thing in the morning. Now, give me my damn pills!”

  Before he could react, she lunged for the packet and gripped the bottom edge. Damn, she was fast. He pulled while she tugged, and he tried desperately to ignore the soft curves brushing his body or the mouthful of wet hair tickling his face. God, she smells great. More vanilla. He inhaled and a layer of warmth increased the heat already throbbing inside. Touching her was out of the question. He’d just have to keep twisting and lifting.

  Several more seconds of sweet torture and he finally got the upper hand. Success. He ripped the pills from her grasp.

  “Dammit, Captain,” she growled, her warm breath hitting his chin.

  Didn’t the woman know how to give up? Apparently not. She continued her delicious assault, pressing against him, reaching, trying to crawl up his body for the damn packet. Fuck. She was potent.

  And naked.

  All the struggling loosened the towel which softly thudded on to his right foot.

  “Shit!” She released him and bent down to grab the wayward towel, brushing his throbbing body along the way.

  He went still. Very still. He didn’t even dare to breathe. But he did look. Oh, hell yeah, he looked.

  The whole right side of her was in his line of vision. Her smooth back and fantastic ass mesmerized, drew him in until he became dizzy from not breathing. He closed his eyes and gulped in air. Damn, the things he wanted to do to her. Eyes opening, he stared at the naked beauty clutching the towel in front of her in a feeble attempt to cover up.

  Too late. He saw every last glorious inch of the front of her body. God, she was mouthwatering.

  And hairless…

  How? His racing pulse stopped for two beats, then tripped into hyper speed. She was unhindered. No hair. Nothing. Just smooth, soft, silky…

  His gaze lingered in the barely concealed section where her hand now held the towel in place. Was it a German thing? Hell, it didn’t matter. A strong urge to touch her and taste her, to sink deep inside tore through his body with unrelenting force. He fought back a groan. Fuck. He was hard enough to pound spikes into concrete.

  “P-please, Mitch,” her soft plea rattled him.

  Make that railroad ties. His dick was hard enough to pound railroad ties. With one swing. And no hands. He dragged more air into his lungs, praying it would unfog his brain as he slowly lifted his gaze to her face.

  Stunning.

  Skin flushed, emerald eyes dark with need, the woman stole his breath. Cripes. She struggled with the very same battle raging inside him. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. She was the enemy. And yet, he felt the pull with every single cell in his body. He let out a long, slow breath and just stared at her, unable to find his voice.

  She cleared her throat. “Can I at least have something to wear?”

  No.

  He clamped his jaw to keep the protest inside and dropped his gaze to the towel still clutched to her breasts. Breasts which now puffed out and silently beckoned his attention—of which he was happy to give.

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  Unreasonable? His gaze snapped to hers. “And you’re lying, sweetheart.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “So, you’re not trying to seduce me?”

  “N-no. It’s not my fault I don’t have any clothes on!” She lifted her chin, still clutching the damn towel, managing to look indignant and sexy-as-hell at the same time.

  “I’m not talking about your lack of clothes.”

  Her head motioned to the pack in his hand. “I already explained the birth control pills.”

  “I’m not talking about that either.” He slid the pills into his pants pocket and sent her a look meant to intimidate.

  She wasn’t. Not at all. She just eye-rolled him.

  “Then what are you talking about, Mitch?”

  With a quick twist, he grabbed an unopened box from her things, then turned back to face her. “Why do you have a bunch of condoms with you?”

  “What?” Her mouth dropped opened as she eyed the box in his hand like she’d never seen it before. “I didn’t…” she stammered, face red.

  Cripes. She was a great actress. He almost believed her. She went from embarrassed to appalled to angry. The woman sure put on a great a show.

  Shoulders stiff, back ramrod straight, she sucked in a deep, sharp breath. “Maria,” she spat, followed by a slew of curses extensive enough to make the guys in the motor pool blush.

  “Who’s Maria?” he asked when her tirade ended. “Your partner?”

  “No. My ex-best friend and co-pilot,” she said through clenched teeth. “I swear when I get my hands on her…”

  Mitch couldn’t help it, he smiled. The woman was ruffled. Really ruffled. He leaned back again
st the table and looked at the box in his hand. “Damn, I guess that means a marathon is out?”

  “I…” She glanced at him, and blinked several times before running fingers through her wet hair. “This situation is so out of hand.”

  Situation? Meaning he was supposed to be her captive? Hell yeah, it was out of hand. He was no one’s prisoner. Not the Japanese. Not the Germans. No one. Long ago, Mitch had decided should the situation ever arise, he’d rather die and take out a few of the enemy with him than be captured.

  Of course, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being holed up in a secluded cabin with a gorgeous, almost naked woman who was either completely off her rocker or a spy with impressive acting skills.

  “How about your shirt?” Her suggestion had his gaze returning to her face. A brow arched as she stared expectantly at him. “Surely you can’t object to giving me your shirt. You know it’s safe.”

  She had a point. He looked into her eyes and stared a moment. Clear. There didn’t appear to be any deceit in their green depths.

  “Fine.”

  Keeping his gaze on her, he tossed the condoms back on the table and slipped out of his already unbuttoned shirt. Cripes, she eyed the top of his uniform like it was a prize. Didn’t take much to imagine her licking her lips and rubbing her hands together.

  Perhaps it was a prize.

  He draped the shirt across the back of a nearby chair and turned to smile into her disappointed face. “Sorry, sweetheart, Black Sheep only. Not German spies.”

  She opened her mouth, anger and remorse struggling to claim her expression before sadness won out and her lips closed. His stupid heart nose-dived to his ribs. The woman wasn’t sad because she’d lost her prize. No. She was sad because he thought so poorly of her.

  Now, how the hell did he know that?

  He rubbed his chin and continued to study her solemn expression. Cripes. He didn’t know how he knew…he just did.

  With a muffled curse, he grabbed the back of his T-shirt and ripped it off over his head, wishing he could remove his emotions as easily. He didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. They hindered the situation big time.

  “Here.”

  He handed her the shirt and had to brace himself as she glanced passed his hand to linger on his bared skin. Her gaze manifested like a heated caress and had him back to hard and throbbing within two seconds. Cripes. He was so fucked.

  A moment later, he wished with all his might his statement was correct when she reached for the shirt and inadvertently dropped the towel. He sucked up every last bit of air in the cabin. It wasn’t nearly enough. Hell no. He needed a massive overload to clear his mind and tell him how wrong it would be to toss the woman on the table and take her over and over until neither of them could walk.

  “Thanks,” she said, after slipping the T-shirt over her head, the white material falling to just below her…sweetness.

  Cripes, that helped for shit.

  He watched her bend down for the towel. All the shirt did was hint and tease at everything he now knew she possessed. Without looking at him, she stood, walked back to the bathroom, and disappeared.

  In that brief moment, he almost managed to get his breathing under control, then wondered why he bothered when she strolled back out and stole his breath. Again. Each step she took, each bounce of her breasts, brush of her nipples against his shirt, rumbled straight to his groin, stroking the erection trying its damndest to bust his zipper.

  “Now what?”

  With an attempt to keep his thoughts pure, he silently recited the alphabet…backwards. Twice.

  “Well?”

  She stopped in front of him. Her breasts bounced an enthusiastic hello and his dick throbbed out a responding how you doin’.

  “Captain?” She stared expectantly into his eyes. “Don’t you have questions for me?”

  Questions? Right. Questions. Now was the perfect time for him to grill her. Shit. Examine her. Fuck. Question her. She was stripped, vulnerable, ripe for his questioning. Yet, he hesitated. The knowledge of how exquisite her body was under the thin material rattled his bones. No way in hell could he keep his mind on interrogation. Not when he wanted to lick, taste, and touch every curve, swell and crevice.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Correct.” He folded his arms across his chest, feeling her gaze following his movements.

  She stepped closer and frowned up at him. “Why not? This is insane. We have to clear the air, Mitch.”

  He snorted and dropped his arms. “The only thing we’d clear is this table when I throw you on it.”

  Her eyes widened, and he watched panic, and heaven help him, desire filter through her gaze. She wisely took a step backward.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh,” he mimicked. “I suggest you disappear into your room and let me go through the rest of your things. If you don’t, I’ll take it to mean you want—”

  “I’m going,” she cut in. “But not before you give me my pills.”

  Cripes. Back to the packet again. The pills must really be important.

  “I mean it, Mitch. I have to take them every day.”

  He stared down at her, studying her face, looking for any signs of deceit. He saw none. But, that didn’t mean anything. He still didn’t trust her, and no way in hell would he hand them all over to her because she showed him a little skin. All right, a lot of skin. A lot of smooth, supple, curvy skin. But he still wasn’t going to budge.

  “I’ll give you one in the morning.”

  Now, why the hell did he tell her that?

  She graced him with a bright smile and stepped closer to quickly squeeze his arm. “Thank you.”

  Before the zing of her touch subsided, she was walking into her room. His gaze took in the glorious eyeful. Damn, the white top never looked so good. Images of his squad in their T-shirts, playing cards, lulling around sweaty and dirty flashed through his mind. Yep, the shirt better suited the naked, curvy brunette.

  And when she crawled on the bed and under the covers, he grabbed the table behind him and gripped the edges tight. Damn, he’d hit his limit. Through the throbbing haze he realized two things. One, she left the door open. Probably to keep an eye on her things. Two, he had two choices to take care of the wood behind his zipper.

  Either join her or…he glanced out the window to the moonlight glistening off the lake below...swim a hundred laps. Maybe two hundred.

  His gaze drifted back to the sexy, mysterious lady lying in the bed several yards away. A lady claiming to be a Marine. A lady with incredible curves, completely naked under the T-shirt.

  His shirt. That thought thrilled him like no other.

  Yeah. I’m fucked.

  ***

  Sam awoke to a silent cabin. Outside, birds chirped, wind whistled through the trees, but nothing emanated from inside. No creaking, scraping…nothing.

  Was Mitch still sleeping? Maybe today would be the day Captain Mitchell would come around to the twenty-first century.

  With a prayer on her lips he wouldn’t need the whole remaining four days to accept the truth of his situation before Maria came for them on Monday, she tossed back the thick navy comforter and slipped out of bed.

  Her body instantly protested. She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. It felt like she’d been hit by a dump truck. And a bulldozer. Too bad her physical contact with the captain hadn’t been more for pleasure, although, each had led to an incredible, mind blowing kiss. Her eyes flew open. Okay, enough with hot thoughts. Today was about getting the captain to see the truth. Not more of her. Lord knows he’d seen everything where she was concerned.

  This time she did groan. No. Not going down that road, not thinking those thoughts. She rubbed her arms against a chill still lingering from night and spotted the duffle bag on the floor by her bed.

  Her brows rose. He must’ve brought it in while she slept. Her stupid body heated at the thought. A quick assessment of the contents confi
rmed he didn’t give her everything. Her MP3 player wasn’t among her things. No doubt the mistrustful pilot suspected the device could be used to send messages or to strangle him. Heck, maybe he discovered he liked classic rock.

  She continued to scrounge through her things and realized, though they technically didn’t belong to her, the box of condoms was missing as well. God, she was going to rip Maria a new one over that stunt. Why hadn’t he returned them?

  Didn’t matter, she told herself as she went through her bag one more time. She had bigger problems.

  Her thongs were missing, too.

  Really? Did he really think her underwear doubled as a weapon? A smile tugged Sam’s lips. Under different circumstances, it would be funny as hell, but not now. Shoot. Now she had to go commando under her jeans.

  Unless she could locate them before he woke up. If he was still sleeping.

  She glanced at her watch. Crap. Scratch that. He better get up soon. She needed her pill. The underwear would have to wait.

  Reluctance ruling her movements, Sam slipped out of Mitch’s T-shirt and sighed. She really hated to give it back. Despite the cold, the thin cotton had kept her warm last night. Mitch’s manly scent was all over the shirt. Heaven. She brought the material to her nose and inhaled; warmth instantly seeped into her naked body. Yep, better than thermals. Just knowing who the shirt belonged to had been enough to keep her hot under the covers the whole night.

  She folded the top and placed it on the bed. If the captain wanted his T-shirt, he could take it. She wouldn’t stop him, but she wasn’t going to deliberately hand the shirt back, either.

  With an eye on the still opened doorway, she quickly dressed in socks, jeans, bra and brown sweater, trying not to focus on the odd sensation of pulling jeans over her naked hips. She needed to see the captain to get her pill, not worry about her lack of underwear.

  Contemplating going into his bedroom to wake him, she stepped out of hers and stopped dead. In front of the dwindling fire, Mitch was asleep on a chair facing her door. Her pulse slammed to a halt. She’d seen him like that before, only he’d been sleeping on a rocker in older style clothes.