10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set
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Mitch turned to shoot the redhead a surprised look.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s teasing,” Samantha insisted, walking hand-in-hand with him through the opened door at the top of the stairs.
His gaze bounced around what appeared to be the combination of a storage area and mini apartment. The place had a lot of potential. Once they removed the boxes, the loft would be open and functional.
“Ah, here they are,” Jenny said, smiling next to two men of similar height and build, yet obviously a generation apart.
The older man immediately rushed forward. “I’m glad you’re back, Sam. I was beginning to get…worried.” He stammered over the last word as his keen green gaze settled over him. “My God.”
Mitch couldn’t agree more. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Because the older man looked like…Shep?
Chapter 13
Mitch’s heart rocked in his chest. Cripes, this is weird. He was staring at an older version of his friend. A friend he’d been hanging around with just last week. A friend who, according to Samantha, had grown old and died.
The man stretched his hand out and smiled, transforming his startled expression into one of warmth. “Hello, I’m Ed Sheppard, Jr. It’s an honor to meet you Captain—”
“Please, call me Mitch,” he interrupted, shaking hands with the son of his good friend. A son who appeared older than Mitch.
Extremely weird.
“Okay, Mitch. Please call me Ed,” the man offered.
He couldn’t help but stare. “I’m sorry, but you look so much like Shep.” Close up, the resemblance was even stronger. A little older and a little broader, but, yeah, Ed looked like Shep all right.
Ed released his hand and laughed. “I get that a lot.”
“I’m Todd.” The younger man stepped over and shook his hand. “It’s an honor, sir.”
Sir? He had to fight the urge to turn around and see if someone else had entered. Not many referred to a Black Sheep as sir. They were more your rebellious, out-of-the-box thinkers.
“Nice to meet you, Todd,” he replied instead. “You’re Samantha’s brother, right?”
“Samantha?” The youngest Sheppard released him and turned a teasing gaze on his sister. “Yes, I’m Samantha’s younger brother.”
She wacked Todd’s arm. “Shut up. Only Mitch is allowed to call me that. Don’t you have a plane to fly?”
“Not for another two hours,” Jenny replied, linking her arm with the younger man. “He’s doing an Aspen run at four.”
Todd draped an arm around the petite brunette. “Yeah, so I’m up here helping dad get the loft cleaned out for Mitch.”
Me?
“Don’t bother. He’ll be staying at my house,” Samantha said, surprising everyone in the room, especially him. As if to emphasize her meaning, she slipped her arm around his waist.
Her father recovered first. “Oh…I see.”
Mitch had to remind himself this was a different century. The military had female pilots. Women wore pants. The war was over. Helicopters were real. The list was endless. Still, he was taken aback that it was morally acceptable for him to stay with a single woman. Wouldn’t people talk? Probably not if her father wasn’t chewing them out by now. Mitch was still dissecting how he felt about the situation when her brother spoke up.
“Well, what about when you’re on base?”
“Yeah, we were hoping Mitch would like to help out around here. Lord knows Jensen could use the help,” Ed claimed, looking pointedly at him. “If you’d be interested, and had mechanical knowledge, of course.”
“He’s good with his hands,” Maria spoke up, causing Samantha to gasp and Todd to laugh. “What? You’re the one who told me that.”
“Jesus, Maria. I’m going to have to muzzle you.” Samantha turned to him, her gaze contrite. “Mitch’s isn’t just a pilot, he’s a mechanical engineer, too.”
“Great.” Ed smiled. “We could sure use your help…and maybe we can do something about the flying, too. My father spoke very highly of you. We’d love to have you on board.”
Mitch’s pulse picked up, and pride spread warmth through his body. Shep had mentioned him favorably. “I would like that, sir.” The little taste he’d had with the helicopter wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He could only imagine how much aviation had improved and wanted to get into a cockpit again.
“Business continues to increase,” her father was saying. “Sam and Maria help out when they can, but we could really use another full-time pilot. Would free me up to teach more.”
Samantha had mentioned her father taught flying lessons and took great joy in teaching young and old how to fly.
“Yeah, Harry is talking about retiring soon,” her brother said. “If we could have you certified and on board by then it would be great.”
“Certified?” He glanced at the men and frowned. “I am certified.”
“Yeah, from seventy years ago,” Ed reminded quietly.
“Under a name and social security number of someone recorded as deceased,” Todd added.
Fuck. They were right. Something heavy settled over Mitch’s chest and clamped tight. He couldn’t even drive, own a car, a house. Nothing.
“So, we need to figure out how to get you new ones,” her brother continued. “Then we can fast track you through our flight school, get you certified and piloting for SC Charters.”
“New ones? Is that something you can do regularly now?” he asked. Times certainly had changed.
“No,” Samantha replied, squeezing his hip. “But there are ways.”
Maria stepped forward. “Yes. My cousin has a friend who can help.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Todd teased.
“Shut up, you.” Maria wagged a finger at the younger man, then turned to him and Samantha. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Thanks,” Samantha said. “I don’t care what it costs. And make sure he gives him the first name Mitch.” She turned to him. “Is that okay with you?”
He nodded, feeling a little better about the nosedive his life had seemingly taken.
“But in the meantime,” Ed said. “I’ll forego all that on the mechanics side. Jensen can get you up to date on the engines and what not. None of the basics have changed. I’ve no doubt you can handle it. And we’ll have this place set up for you before Sam goes back to base next week. This way you won’t have to worry about traveling to and from her house.”
Mitch nodded.
What else could he say?
He was still busy riding the shock waves of his lack of identity and the fact he no longer existed.
***
It was two hours later when Sam finally pulled her jeep into the garage of her split-level with Mitch riding shotgun. Poor guy had a crash course in culture shock since they gathered their bags from the chopper and hit the road.
As they drove through town, she’d pointed things out and answered his questions. The abundance of strip malls, department stores and fast food restaurants amazed him. And when they stopped in one for some old fashioned cheeseburgers, he actually perked up a bit, wolfing down two doubles, large fries and a coke.
“Damn, so far that was the best thing this century has to offer,” he claimed, joining her at the drink station where he took delight in mixing several beverages into his cup.
She pretended an offended look. “Where does that leave me?”
“You, Samantha, are the best thing from any century,” he said, leaning down to kiss her nose.
“Good answer.”
She was hoping for a lip shot, but was happy for any physical contact. Like now. He followed her inside, insisting on carrying both duffle bags, leaving her plans to lead him by hand out of the question. But he’d had a rough afternoon so she cut him some slack.
“This is the family room or television room,” she said, moving aside to let him in.
“Whatever that means,” he grumbled looking around with more interest than his tone indicated.
“Football?” he asked, brows raised. A sparkle back in his eyes. “Yeah. I haven’t heard a game in years. Why?”
“Because, you don’t have to listen to them on the radio anymore, or be there in person to see the game.”
“You’re kidding? You mean you can watch the game on that thing?” he nodded to the flat screen hanging on the wall.
“Yes, that thing is called a television. TV for short.” She smiled, heading up the five stairs leading to the main level where she showed him the kitchen, dining room, living room and half bath. “Up here are the three bedrooms and main bathroom.”
He followed her quietly up the second set of steps, then stopped to look at the photos she had hanging in her hallway, paying particular attention to the one of her with her grandfather in his decommissioned plane.
“That’s a great picture,” he said, still looking at the photo. “How old were you?”
“Barely four. It was taken just after my mom had died. Grandpa was a big help. My dad had his hands full with my brother. He was just a baby,” she replied, coming to stand next to him. “It was in that Corsair my love for flying was born and my desire to hear all about his squadron.”
Mitch turned a thoughtful gaze on her. “That’s how you knew…”
She nodded. “Yeah, that and newspaper clippings. Grandpa managed to gather a few, along with an article or two that was written after the war. They’re in one of the scrapbooks in here,” she said, motioning to a nearby bedroom she used as a den.
Nodding, he glanced inside, his gaze narrowing on the PC sitting on the desk. “The archive thing,” he said, giving her the impression he was looking forward to catching up with history and technology.
She only hoped he could handle the darker side of both. “Yes, a computer. I’ll show you how to use it later.”
They continued down the hall and she pointed out the bathroom, the other bedroom where, to her surprise, he promptly dropped his duffle bag.
Crud.
She’d thought…she’d hoped…hell, she wanted him to stay with her.
Doing her best to hide her disappointment, Sam walked to her bedroom at the end of the hall, reminding herself he had a lot of adjusting to do.
“And this is where I sleep,” she said, taking her bag from him to drop next to her bed.
When she turned around, he was leaning in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, studying her intently.
Damn, he looked hot. Like out of one of her dreams. His uniform stretched across a chest she wasn’t done exploring, and emphasized biceps she knew to be sturdy and strong, having held her tight as he did her up against the back of the cabin door last night.
Great, now she was hot.
And frustrated.
What was with him? He acted like stepping inside her room was going to sound off alarms.
“Look, Mitch,” she said, moving closer. “I know things are a lot different than you’re used to.”
For that she received a grunt.
“Society is a lot different now. More accepting, and I’d like…I thought…” Sam blew out a breath. Crud. She wasn’t good at this. “I just want you to know, I’d very much like to share this room with you. My adjoining bathroom, too.” Great, now I’m babbling. Her gaze returned to his face before she added, “And my bed.”
His chin lifted and eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
Did nothing.
“I also understand you need space. A place of your own, which you’ll get when I’m on base. Sometimes I’m gone days, sometimes weeks. But if you really want to stay in the guestroom, I’m okay with it,” she told him truthfully. “I just wanted you to know you were welcomed in here.”
In her.
On her.
Absolutely anything to do with her.
“The choice is yours,” she added softly. Pick me, her body and heart secretly urged. Please pick me.
Without a word, he turned around and left.
Crud. Staring at the empty doorway, her heart felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed.
Before her burning throat had a chance to close, Mitch was back, bag in hand, stride purposeful and sure. He dropped the bag next to hers on the floor, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her long and deep. Strength effectively zapped from her legs, she clung to him. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
Damn, he was heady.
Resting her forehead on his chin, she worked to catch her breath. “I’ll take that to mean you’re staying with me?”
His chuckle vibrated through her. “Yes.”
“Good,” she said against his stubble-roughened jaw, while her hands snuck under his shirt to slowly stroke his deliciously taut lower abs.
He groaned near her ear, causing fierce shivers to race down her side.
“I want to be wherever you are, whenever possible, Samantha.”
She drew back to look into his intense blue-green gaze. “I want that, too, Mitch. I want that so very much.”
“Good.”
Ever so slowly, he began to unbutton her shirt. His fingers softly brushed her skin in an excruciatingly unhurried pace, all the while holding her gaze. Just when Sam didn’t think she could take anymore, he undid the top button. Her heart beat wildly in anticipation, nipples straining against her red satin bra, eager for his touch as he gently eased the shirt off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms.
“Hotsy-totsy,” he murmured, admiring her bra.
Yes, very. She meant her temperature, but knew from having heard her grandfather use the term many times it meant pleasing.
“My thong matches.”
Turned on, the blue and green of his eyes mixed to form a deep aqua, once again gleaming brighter than warm Bermuda waters.
He groaned, leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Show me.”
Sam felt herself grow damp at his gruff, naughty tone. Empowered, she sat on the bed, quickly removed her boots and socks, undid her pants, which slid down her legs to pool at her feet when she stood.
His eyes darkened and she watched his chest rise on an inhale. Riding the wave of confidence, she stepped out of her jeans and slowly twisted in a circle, smiling at his audible intake of breath.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, reaching for her, crushing her close.
One hand roamed freely over her body while the other threaded through her hair, holding her head while they kissed fierce and needy and rough. Heady indeed.
Releasing her mouth, he reined kisses along her jaw and nuzzled behind her ear just as his wicked hand slipped inside her thong and zeroed in on her sweet spot. She moaned and rocked into his hand, pushing his shirt up, needing to feel skin.
He released her to make quick work of his uniform shirt and T-shirt before reaching for her again. His fingers were warm and sure as they pulled the red satin straps down her arms, kissing each breast until his fingers worked the hooks, and the bra fell to the floor.
“Beautiful,” he murmured again, running his hands up her body to cup the underside of her breasts, holding them while he took his time suckling their peaks.
Sam moaned and grabbed his head, pressing closer, loving the way his bare skin felt against her flesh. Those wickedly talented hands traveled south, and Sam’s breath hitched in her throat, anticipating, waiting…needing him to touch her everywhere.
And he did.
Dropping to his knees, he kissed a path downward while his hands caressed her backside, her hips, her upper thighs, thumbs deliciously brushing the wisp of satin, making her cry out, driving her crazy.
“You’re wet,” he said, finally tugging the thong down her legs.
Hell ya. She was damn needy, too.
Gently, he eased her against the bed, where she sat just on the edge, leaning back on her elbows, watching him trail kisses up her inner thigh. She’d never been so exposed, but heaven help her, Sam
wanted this with Mitch. He looked up, aqua eyes glittering with the very need trembling through her limbs.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you dropped that damn towel.”
Before she could draw a breath, he spread her folds apart and pressed his lips against her. She moaned, and threw her head back, lost in the sensation of his mouth working her over. Tongue twirling, finger touching, he brought her so very close to that glorious horizon. If he didn’t stop…
“Mitch…I…don’t want to waste it,” she managed to say through hitched breaths.
He lifted his head, eyes positively glowing. “Never a waste. Give it to me, Samantha. Come for me,” he said, before reclaiming her for his own.
The incredible man knew her better than she did, he knew what she wanted, needed—and how to give it. And boy, did he give. He adopted a rhythm that had her riding a powerful wave of heat. She thrust her hands through his hair, holding on, falling, gasping as her orgasm hit hard and intense. It was as if he’d been on a mission to give her extreme pleasure. He succeeded. And when the shuddering stopped, he was still there, lapping, bringing her down with a gentleness she’d never known.
She lay back on the bed, panting, watching as he finished stripping off the rest of his clothes. He was hard, all of him, and his body glistened with a beckoning sheen. When he joined her, they scooted up further, and she immediately rolled him onto his back, using her lips and hands to explore every inch of his hard, rigid body. She wanted to give him the pleasure he’d just bestowed.
Threading his fingers in her hair, he brought her mouth to his for a fierce, hot kiss while her hands continued to touch and stroke, finding and curling around the bulging erection she needed to feel inside.
The man was a handful of throbbing temptation.
Releasing her mouth, he kissed her neck before he rolled her onto her back and got up.
The loss of his heat chilled her skin.
“What’s wrong?”