Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  But, he justified, as long as he didn’t run for mayor, didn’t take a leading role other than instigation, technically, he wasn’t inciting his ex-wife’s ire. Or her nasty bitch-witch curse.

  “We don’t have lodging for any kind of crowd now that the Lodge closed,” Fred pointed out. But the way he was tugging at his lower lip was a sure sign he was at least considering the idea.

  “If this proves a success, we reopen Mage Lodge. It’s right there on the lake. In the meantime, there are plenty of people with spare rooms. Call ’em that fancy name, what’s it?”

  “Bed and Breakfast,” his mother murmured.

  “Right,” he said. One glance told him she hadn’t offered out of any show of agreement. Nope, Deloris Ross just didn’t want her son looking stupid in public. “Bed and Breakfast. See, everyone gets a shot at making a little personal income here.”

  “Fishermen would need lunches,” Joe said. “Bea’s could do a few of them box-type things. Simple stuff. Sandwiches, fruit. Maybe a barbeque to kick off the event.”

  “You’re crazy, Joe,” Marcia accused. “Why feed into this pie in the sky malarkey? No offense, Gideon, but this just ain’t gonna happen.”

  “It can happen if we want it to. It’s just a matter of asking ourselves two questions. Are we willing to do what it takes to save Rossdale? Or are we going to kiss this town goodbye?

  Gideon scanned the faces in the room. He’d known them all his life and read them clear as words on a page. Half obviously agreed with Marcia. The other half, though, looked hopeful. Not sure. Not confident in any way, but maybe a little intrigued.

  That was enough for Gideon. He’d work them one at a time, pull in more information and hit each one of them where they’d care. Money, fame, saving Rossdale.

  He knew all their buttons. Now he just had to push the right ones.

  There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Seven

  “Don’t hang up. Please. I need your advice.”

  Miki pulled the cell phone away from her ear to squint at it, then listened again.

  “Perry?” she asked, perplexed. It sounded like him, it was his number on the screen. But please? And advice? “Is that you?”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Mikaela. You must have seen my number. What? You’re on potato overload?”

  “Ahh, Perry. Now I recognize your sarcastic voice.” Miki scooted through the kitchen to peer out the window. Nobody in the driveway. She puffed out a breath and paced the narrow floor. “Is that potato thing supposed to be an Idaho joke?”

  “I thought it was funny,” he defended. Miki frowned at his petulant tone. Since when did he care what she thought? And where were the insults that usually accompanied these daily calls?

  “You used to have a better sense of humor. Of course, you used to have quite a few other good qualities. It’s too bad you let yourself go the way you did. Maybe you’ll be lucky and one of those lonely, Grizzly Adams types will be willing to ignore your issues. You really should start dating again, after all.”

  Was that the best he thought she could do?“You called to give me dating advice?” Miki was proud of the way her sneer carried clear through the phone line.

  “I was just trying to do you a favor, Mikaela.”

  “I don’t need your favors.”

  “Fine. Okay, don’t listen to my advice. But don’t hang up. I need your...” his voice dropped so low, she couldn’t make out what he’d said.

  Miki propped the phone between her ear and shoulder and tried to push the window open. It wouldn’t budge. Miki shoved again, and yelped when her hand slipped and smacked the wall.

  “Hang on, Perry,” she said before she dropped the phone and his still muttering voice to the counter. Using both hands and all her strength, Miki squatted down and shoved up. Just before her shoulders felt like they’d give out, the window shot open. With a bang, it hit the top of the frame.

  Miki smiled. There, fresh air. Not that she needed the window open to listen for vehicles or anything.

  The tinny sound of her ex-husband’s voice reminded her she was being rude. How funny those words were so clear through the rest of his long-distance mutterings.

  “I’m back,” she said into the phone.

  “I need your advice,” he said again, this time snapping the words.

  “You’re kidding, right? Why on earth would you want my advice on anything? Unless it’s maybe something like ‘how to lose at marriage and get screwed over by your lying, cheating spouse.’ But you’ve got a better handle on that than I do.”

  “Miki, please. This isn’t about you.” Miki snorted and rolled her eyes as she leaned out the screen-less window to peer down the road. Nothing. “I... well, I’m afraid you’re the only person I can confide in.”

  Miki laughed aloud. “Me? That’s sad, Perry. It’s possible, if you searched high and low, you could possibly find someone who hated you more than I do. But it’d take a lot of work.”

  “Once again, Mikaela, this isn’t about you. I need your help. What happened to compassion and concern?”

  “The same thing that happened to love, honor, and obey. You tossed it away.” A flash of black outside the window caught Miki’s attention. She frowned and looked again, just in time to watch a cat jump into her window.

  “What the hell?” she yelped as she scurried backward. Trying to catch her balance, Miki tripped into the pile of cabinet doors stacked along the wall. She’d have landed flat on her ass if it weren’t for her quick grab of the refrigerator door handle.

  “What happened?”

  “A cat,” she gasped. Out of breath, she made a shooing motion with one hand. The cat sat on the open windowsill and stared. Medium-sized with long, silky looking hair, it didn’t look like a stray or wild cat. Her heartbeat returning to normal, she straightened and took a couple steps closer, squinting at its neck. Collar? She couldn’t see anything through all that fur.

  “A cat? Filthy disease-carriers. Where are you? Just go inside and don’t feed it, it’ll leave you alone.”

  “Don’t be such an ass,” she muttered.

  Miki narrowed her eyes. Did the cat just nod in agreement?

  At the rumbling sound of an engine outside, Miki lost her curiosity about the cat or the reason for Perry’s call.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said quickly.

  “No, wait. I need to talk to you.”

  “Perry, I’ve got thirty seconds. What do you need?”

  “Um...”

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  “The furniture? I want the furniture back.”

  A truck pulled up outside her house. Miki sidled over to the window to look out, careful to keep to the side so as not to be seen.

  “Furniture?” Miki repeated absently, “I’m using it, sorry.”

  Her gaze locked on the delicious view in her driveway, Miki hit the off key and tossed the phone on the counter.

  A quick fluff of her hair and a finger over her teeth to make sure she was lipstick smudge free, and Miki headed for the front of the house.

  At the door, she stopped and pressed a hand to her stomach to quiet the butterflies. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Calm and contained. Nothing to be nervous about. This wasn’t a big deal.

  She heard the truck door shut with a dull thud and straightened her shoulders. Time to put her big girl panties on and act like a grown up instead of a giggly teen with a crush.

  When the knock came, the thin wood of the door reverberated under her hand. Miki was ready. With a friendly, but not lusty smile on her face, she pulled the door open.

  “Hi, Gideon. I’m glad you could come.”

  Just looking at the man made her want to come. The morning sun glinted behind him, making his golden hair seem like it was drenched in light. Having felt the rich thickness of that hair, Miki’s fingers itched to touch it again.

  Whiskey eyes traveled over her in a long, slow look that had her insides heading from simmer straight to a f
ull boil. She sucked in her stomach, feeling the comfortable band of her hip-hugging jeans loosen a bit. All the easier to slide off, a wicked little voice whispered in her ear. Miki shrugged off the voice and forced herself not to fiddle with the spaghetti strap of her baby-doll style chiffon blouse.

  As long as she ignored the fact that the man looked good enough to eat in long, delicious bites, she’d be fine. Like a fine piece of art in a museum, she could look all she wanted, but touching—and biting—were completely off limits.

  After all, he was still poison. Mortals were trouble; nobody knew that better than she did.

  “Hey,” he said in that husky slow accent of his. Miki met his warm smile with one of her own. “I’m glad you called. I was hoping you would. I’ve got lots of ideas for you. After we cover the basics, of course.”

  Miki’s mouth watered at what those ideas might be. She’d bet he was a master at the basics, and a magician with those ideas of his. Did any of them involve food? She’d spent a lot of years contemplating the sensual possibilities of edible pleasures.

  “Basics?” she asked, her voice husky and low. Had she ever gotten beyond the basics in her marriage? How sad, she didn’t even know what the added features might be.

  “You know, foundation work. Making sure the electrical and plumbing are up to code, the walls are all standing. That kind of basic stuff. Then we can get into what you’d like to do to make this place really sing.”

  Basics. As in construction. Only Gideon’s sharp gaze kept her from smacking herself in the forehead. The man was in the look but don’t touch category, dammit. He might as well be in a museum, behind a red rope and surrounded by armed guards.

  No sooner had the thought fully formed than Miki felt a surge of energy and a tingle spark the palm of her hand. Biting back a groan of horrified recognition, she tried to be subtle as she looked around.

  Her breath whooshed out. Whew. She didn’t see anything.

  “What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.

  “Nothing,” she hurried to assure him. One more quick glance around the innocent-looking entryway and she offered a bright smile and stepped back. “Come on in. We’ll get started.”

  Before he could answer, he almost fell to his face. Miki grabbed his arm as he stumbled. Her senses reeled at the musky scent enveloping her, reminding her of how it’d felt to be wrapped in his arms. The corded muscles beneath her fingers made her swallow and she had to force herself to let go of him before she embarrassed herself.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. A quick look behind him assured her the porch hadn’t fallen in this time. “What happened?”

  Gideon straightened, his face ruddy. With a frown, he reached down to untangle something from his feet. Miki followed his gaze and gasped.

  Shit.

  A red velvet rope, complete with little metal doohickeys on the ends to hook to posts. She bit her lip. She’d known she’d felt something.

  “What’s this for?” he asked as he ran the rich fabric through his fingers. “I’m not sure even I’m good enough to turn this mess into a showplace, if that’s what you have in mind.”

  Miki forced a laugh and took the rope from him. “Sorry about that. Ryan must have dropped it or something.”

  “Your brother?” At her nod, he quirked a brow. “What’s he use it for?”

  “Bondage,” she blurted out.

  “I beg your pardon?” Gideon’s grin belied any discomfort though. Miki wasn’t sure if he was more amused at her words, or the heat turning her face tomato-red.

  “Um, Ryan likes to tie things up.”

  Goddess help her if her brother showed up.

  “Okay,” Gideon said with a considering look at the velvet. “Is this something that runs in the family?”

  “Ewww.” Miki blinked, thinking at first he meant was it something she and her brother did together. But then she caught the sexual spark in his gaze. She bit her lip, her breath shuddering as the images flew at light speed through her imagination. What would it be like to be tied up with velvet, left to Gideon’s mercy? Could she do it? Was that something he liked to do?

  “Guess not,” he laughed. Unperturbed by neither her ewww, nor the message his bulging jeans sent, he winked and gestured with his clipboard. “How about we go through the house? You can tell me what you want to do with it, your vision of the finished product. I’ll make notes and track the mandatory repairs.”

  He was all business. Now she just had to stay the same.“Where do you want to start?” she asked.

  He’d like to start with her toes and nibble his way up those long, slender legs. Gideon forced the mouth-watering image out of his overactive brain and gave Miki the closest thing he had to a professional, lust-free smile.

  “Why don’t we start upstairs and work our way down,” he suggested. Maybe it’d distract him from his bottom-to-top fantasy.

  Of course, he realized as he watched the sway of her hips as she led the way upstairs, top to bottom had a lot going for it too.

  Forty minutes and a few bizarre accidents later, Gideon was still following Miki. This time from the living room—and its lingering, unexplained scent of rich coffee—down the dark, narrow hall toward the last room of their tour. The kitchen.

  “So does your shower turn itself on like that often?” he asked to distract himself from the memory of her bedroom and the riot of colors. It had been like walking into a rainbow, her bed the symbolic pot of gold. But the chill he’d been feeling since his arrival told him he was still a far cry from bouncing with Miki on that symbol. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  “The shower?” she repeated, that same odd tone to her voice as she’d had when it’d happened. “No. There was one other water incident up there, but it wasn’t the same.”

  “Not another cold shower then, huh?”

  Gideon caught her faint blush and wondered if he was the only one who’d been thinking a cold shower might be a good idea when the shower had erupted.

  Focus, Ross. They reached the kitchen and he glanced at his clipboard, making a note. He’d have to see if he could get Warner to check the plumbing before he moved off to McCall.

  “Holy sh...,” he bit off, finally taking a good look around the kitchen. “Let me guess. You read the book and figured you’d refinish the cabinet doors yourself?”

  Between neglect, destructive tenants, and Miki’s own home improvement attempts, it was a wonder the house was still standing. Gideon didn’t say that, though. The vulnerable look in her midnight eyes made it clear she expected to be criticized. But the set of her jaw warned him if he tried, she’d likely kick him in the jewels.

  Damn, he wanted her.

  “Except for that one, I got them all off with no problem.”

  Gideon looked at the one that had been a problem and winced.

  “I’m guessing you don’t want to replace all the doors, just refurbish them?” At her nod, he reached for the damaged one. “This house is almost seventy years old. I’m gonna hazard a guess these were original. I doubt we can find any similar, so we’ll have to find a way to repair this one.”

  What the hell had she used to get it off the hinges? A sledgehammer? He fingered the splintered oak and winced. No way could he match it. He’d have to see if he could exchange it with one of the others in a less prominent place.

  He took a look around, making notes as he went. After he’d covered the necessities, he turned back to Miki, who sat on a colorful stool, swinging those long legs of hers.

  “You want to make this a fancy space?” he asked, more to distract himself from wondering how those legs would feel wrapped over his shoulders.

  “Not fancy. Just useable.”

  “You sure? I could make it pretty special,” he offered with a wink. It, the kitchen. It, anything else she wanted.

  “But I’m sure what you have in mind is more than I can handle.”

  With a slow grin, Gideon moved closer to Miki, near enough to breath in the woodsy scent of her perfume. He wat
ched the soft light from the nearby window play over her jet-black hair, casting a rich golden glow over the thick waves.

  “I don’t know. After that kiss the other day, I’m pretty sure you’d definitely be able to handle it,” Gideon murmured.

  Her eyes widened, her breath a little puff of air over his mouth, reminding him of just how tasty she’d been.

  “I guess I don’t need to ask what you had on your mind,” she said with a breathless laugh. “Does touring old wrecks always have this effect on you?”

  He liked the way her voice got all soft and husky. Like a sexy purr, with just a hint of upscale accent. He liked the direct honesty in her gaze even more. But, just one look told him even though she might be interested, she was too cautious to pursue it. Given the few things he’d wheedled out of her about her marriage, she had reason for that caution.

  Gideon considered pulling back, chilling out on the flirting. After all, it wasn’t fair to push when she was still vulnerable. She obviously wasn’t the ‘use sex as a recovery tool’ type of gal.

  And other than recovery fun, he didn’t have anything to offer her. Well, other than one hell of a renovation deal.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. He reluctantly let go of the strand of hair he’d been smoothing between his fingers. He took two quick steps back and retrieved his clipboard. Tapping his pencil against it, he offered her a stiff smile. “I’m out of line. I don’t usually flirt with potential clients like this. Especially ones who are, well, fresh out of a relationship and probably not ready to start dating again.”

  “No? I guess I’m special then, huh?”

  Gideon frowned at her grimace and self-mocking tone. What gear had she shifted into?

  “Come again?”

  “Why the hot, then cold?”

  Gideon pulled his shoulders back to crack the tension from his neck and shot her a questioning look.

  “Is this because I’m divorced? Is it like pity flirting? My sister warned me guys would do that. She claimed they’d fall into one of two categories. Nice guys who felt sorry for me, or losers who’d try and get into my poor lonely pants.”