Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2)

by Michaels, Donna

  If they were out on the roads in uniform, then the National Guard had definitely been activated, and she was more than happy to wait for the next team, even if her chattering teeth balked at the idea.

  And to show she didn’t care for him or his attitude, Jill pushed the button and rolled the window back up. There. Let Mr. Grumpypuss deal with that.

  A second later, she heard Keiffer’s laughter disappearing in the distance, and she blew out a breath that frosted in front of her. Okay, so she put one Wyne in his place and made the other laugh…but she was still stranded. And cold.

  …And stuck in the snow with a broken car, and probably a broken nose.

  A shiver, that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature, raced down her spine. Thank goodness she had been going slow. Hitting a tree at a high rate of speed usually ended much worse.

  The passenger door suddenly swung open and a very handsome, very pissed off Guardsman folded his large frame into her car and slammed the door.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered like the idiot she was.

  “Waiting with you.”

  “Why?” She blinked, and sucked in more air from a car that suddenly felt very cramped. Mason’s hot body took up the front seat while his presence filled the back.

  “Because our Humvee broke down up there, and we were waiting for another to arrive with some parts my brother needed when we spotted your lights,” he replied, his voice aggravated, his gaze cold and intense as he leaned closer. “You’re stuck with me until they arrive. Keif went back to toy with it some more. You got a problem with that, sweetheart?”

  Yeah. She had a problem all right. A problem with the way her body heated when he was near, the way her pulse jumped from blend to mixing speed with his presence, the way her good parts perked up and tingled, begging for attention from a man who’d forgotten how to smile.

  A lost cause.

  She was so done with lost causes. New Year’s Resolution #3: Resist the urge to help everyone and everything.

  See? It was official. She couldn’t help. Wasn’t allowed. No way was she going to help this man. Absolutely not. She was done. On strike. Even if he had the most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen, that—on rare occasions he smiled—warmed to a delicious milk chocolate, drawing her in until every last atom was toasty and tingly.

  Dammit. Milk chocolate was her favorite.

  Desperate to resist the sudden urge to see him smile, she muttered the first nasty thing to pop into her head, “Just my luck. I got stuck with the mean Wyne.”

  “What?”

  “Can I trade you in for Keiffer? He’d at least make me smile.”

  “Smile?” Mason blinked, staring at her like she’d lost her mind. “Your car is probably totaled. Your nose is busted. You’re stranded in the middle of nowhere in a snow storm. What is there to smile about?”

  Her optimistic nature kicked in. Darn it. She was helpless to stop her mouth from rambling. “I have insurance. Only my nose is busted. I’m stranded with two handsome Wyne brothers in the middle of nowhere in a snow storm. My pitch went well, and I have my penis molds.”

  He reeled back, a ghost of a smile tugging his lips. “You have moldy penises?”

  “No.” She snorted then sucked in a breath as pain spread out across her face. “Ouch. That hurts. Don’t make me laugh.”

  The sliver of amusement instantly disappeared. “What hurts?” Gently but methodically, he began to run his hands over her in an impersonal examination.

  Shock soon turned into a pleasant tremor as her neglected body found some much needed action. “Wow, second base without even a kiss,” she babbled while embarrassment heated her cheeks.

  He stilled, and instead of an angry retort, locked gazes and did what she’d never expected. He laughed. A genuine, real laugh that lit his gorgeous features from within, warming his eyes to that yummy milk chocolate that melted her insides.

  Fondue city...

  She was so close she could see each shade of brown in his eyes, feel his warm chuckle on her face, and drool over the five o’clock shadow dusting his firm jaw as daylight began to fade. Butterflies swarmed low in her belly while her heart suddenly pounded in her throat.

  “You are something else, Jill,” he said, voice low, sending those butterflies into a frenzy.

  Unsure if his comment was good or bad since it wasn’t followed by an “I can’t wait to get rid of your clothes” or “I can’t wait to get rid of you,” she decided not to react.

  Too bad her body didn’t get the memo. It trembled without her consent.

  Stupid, neglected body.

  “Does your heater still work?”

  She knew he wasn’t talking about sex. Still, willpower kept her snort at bay. That, and the fact the last one had hurt like a son of a bitch. Unfortunately, her mouth was operable. “God, I hope so. My heater hasn’t been used in over a year.”

  Oh…crap. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud…

  He glanced from her to the dash then back again, narrowing his gaze on the second pass.

  “The car heater doesn’t work. And, don’t mind me,” she rushed to say, desperate to take the focus off her lack of sex confession. “I think the pain is making me a bit delirious. I don’t seem to have control over my mouth.”

  Oh God, she was in trouble now, because he was staring at her lips.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” he asked, lifting a hand to touch her face.

  Even though she was freezing her knickers off, she knew it was the gentleness of his touch and the tenderness in his gaze responsible for the tremors racking her body. She rarely saw this side of the man, and dammit, she was powerless to resist. His about-face confused her silent.

  “Come here.” Muttering a curse, he sat back in his seat and hauled her onto his lap. Apparently assuming her tremors were due to the cold, he rubbed her arms with one hand and her legs with the other.

  Despite the fact he wore gloves, her body reacted to his caress as if they were both buck naked and going at it hot and heavy. Unable to stand firm, she melted into him with a delicious shiver.

  He held her close, cradling her head against his chest as he spoke quietly. “It’s okay. I got you, Jill. You’re in shock from the accident. You’ll be okay.”

  She was in shock, all right. Shock of finding herself sitting on his hard lap. Plastered to his fine body. Hearing her name in his sexy, low tone. His sure, warm hands stroking her legs and arms. Feeling his steady heart beating strong under her ear.

  The cute guardsman had invaded her dreams for months, now he would fuel them until the next New Year. Unexpected, his tenderness cracked something open in her chest. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against the stinging. It had been so long, so damn long since a guy had held her close and tried to take care of her for a change. Wanting nothing in return. She’d been in her late teens…nearly nine years ago. God, she didn’t realize how much she missed it.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” he said, tipping her face to stare up at him. “Remember what you said? You have insurance. You only hurt your nose…”

  “And I have my moldy penises,” she said, a smile tugging her lips.

  “Yes.” He laughed, warmth from his gaze heating her down to her high-heeled boot-covered toes. “We can’t forget about them.”

  “Nope,” she agreed, mesmerized by the play of shadows the brim of his Army hat cast on his face, and the way her body craved his caress that wasn’t sexual, just steady, constant, reassuring. “Or my pitch.”

  “Yeah. What did you pitch? Your chocolate?”

  Before she knew it, she was telling him of the phone call she’d received about a last minute cancellation that granted her the opportunity to pitch her chocolate to a national corporation while she was in the city picking up her molds. “I apparently passed the initial taste test. They said it had to pass two more…”

  He stiffened. “Jill, do you have it patented, or whatever it is you do with food?”r />
  “Yes.” She nodded. “It’s okay. I’m safeguarded should they attempt to duplicate the taste.” Her uncle had his lawyer make sure her recipes were protected.

  “That’s good.” Mason expelled a breath and relaxed beneath her. “So, how long do you have to wait?”

  “Two to three months,” she replied, while her mind began to fog at the thought of his concern.

  Again, it had been so long since someone other than family had been worried for her well-being. The thoughtfulness knocked her off balance. She hadn’t expected it from the cute but closed-up Wyne. And she was already less than par thanks to that dang pothole and wrecking her car…and sitting on the tempting lap of the guardsman she’d admired from afar, lest she got too close and he bit her head off.

  Not true. That wasn’t why she’d kept her distance from Mason Wyne since moving to the Poconos over a year ago. She wasn’t worried about her head. Heck, she’d gotten good at handling disgruntled bookies and thugs during her marriage. No. She wasn’t worried about her head at all. It was her heart. And New Year’s Resolution #3 again—Resist the urge to help everyone and everything.

  Mason was an everyone. And he needed help.

  One look at him when she’d arrived last year and her instinct to help the guy she’d met all those summers ago had bubbled over. The Wynes had been regulars at her uncle’s pizza shop, but thanks to braces and acne, she’d been too awkward and shy to be anything more than an acquaintance.

  Now, if it weren’t for the fact he’d avoided women, particularly her, she might not have been able to fight her recessive help those in need gene. But she’d had a year to grow strong. To build up an immunity to assisting the needy. To becoming their champion. To aiding anything that breathed. She’d gotten pretty stern. Heck…she only fed four stray cats and took in one dog…and a rabbit orphaned last spring, both of which she’d found homes for. Single digits. Those she helped hadn’t totaled into double digits. It was a record.

  One she intended to keep, despite the shadows that sometime haunted the grumpy guy’s beautiful eyes. Or the way he seemed to work all the time between the resort and the Guard. But, that was none of her concern. Nope. Mason Wyne was none of her concern.

  “You must be tired. Do you have to patrol the road all night?”

  Damn, the question was out before she could swallow it down.

  He stilled his hands and stared deep into her eyes. “Why? Did you have something in mind, Jill?”

  She didn’t…until now. And, darn it, why did he have to go and say her name again? All sexy, and low…and sexy. Those butterflies returned to flutter low in her belly, and his incredible woodsy, yummy man smell only fueled the flurry.

  “Yeah,” she replied, her own voice a rough whisper. She cleared her throat and lifted her hand to touch the scruff on his chin.

  But he caught and held her hand and repeated, “What did you have in mind?”

  “Chocolate penises.”

  Chapter Two

  Mason wondered briefly if he’d lost his mind. That would explain why he was flirting with Jill. She was dangerous. He’d known since the first day they’d met. Well, re-met, after she’d moved to the Poconos permanently.

  Back when he was a teen, Jill Martelli had been a cute but shy visiting New Yorker, a few years his junior, that had fascinated him and his teenage brothers, but they’d had too much respect for Al Martelli to sniff around his young niece.

  That, plus their dad forbade any contact outside the restaurant, claiming she was too sweet for the likes of his horny boys.

  His dad had been right. But that was nearly ten years ago. They were no longer adolescents, a fact he’d instantly noted the day his nephew had dragged him into her candy shop last spring.

  The cute New Yorker had grown into a beautiful, attractive brunette that sent shockwaves of awareness down his dormant body. He’d stood there, stiff and unblinking, watching as she’d stooped down to look Tyler in the eyes and answer the kindergartener’s question about hollow chocolate rabbits. Jill could’ve brushed the little boy off like most adults, but she hadn’t. She’d treated his nephew like he’d mattered and, ah…hell, that had mattered to Mason.

  It had also sent up a red flag. The woman made him feel…hot, bothered, hungry, lonely…needy. Everything he did not want. Everything he’d cut out of his life since his broken engagement. So, he’d made it his mission to avoid being in her presence.

  He couldn’t avoid her now. Nor could he evade the heat consuming his body or the way he felt alive for the first time in months. Maybe even years.

  “I have a large order of chocolate penises…penis pops…a large order of pops to fill,” she rushed to say, heat flooding her cheeks in a pretty shade of pink that deepened the brown of her eyes.

  She stared up at him, gaze warm and inviting, sweet smile on her face despite her swollen nose and dried blood. God, she was adorable.

  And he was in deep trouble. “Why would a pretty woman spend a cold evening making candy…alone?”

  “You think I’m pretty?”

  Christ, she was gorgeous, but it was just like her not to know. She wasn’t fishing for compliments, either. The woman genuinely didn’t know she was a beauty with silky brown hair his fingers had longed to touch. Mesmerizing eyes that turned him inside out whenever she smiled, making him feel warm and accepted, flaws and all. A cute little button nose, looking a bit painful at the moment, and full, kissable lips that curved into a ready smile at the drop of a hat.

  She had a natural beauty. An effervescence that drew people in and made them feel alive, important, cared for—exactly what he was trying to avoid. But…right now, alone in the dwindling daylight with her warm curves settled on his lap, he was powerless to resist.

  “Yes, I think you’re pretty. And smart, funny, kind.”

  Her blush deepened and his heart rocked against his ribs. Hard.

  There hadn’t been movement in his chest for years. Not one solitary blip, even when he’d dated that famous Broadway star last summer. The only time movement occurred was when Jill Bailey was near. This was not good. It was a strong argument against flirting, one he noted…then ignored.

  “So, why do you have a night of candy making planned instead of a date?”

  She laughed, and shifted as if uncomfortable with the compliment and question. The shifting ignited more movement. This time, behind his zipper.

  “I’m trying to get my business off the ground. I don’t really have time to date.”

  Something he completely understood. Since he and his three brothers had purchased their resort three years ago, he’d pretty much been married to the place, between fixing it up, guiding tourists on adventures, creating a web marketing strategy, plus drills and deployment in the Guard, he’d barely had time to breath.

  And yet, whenever the pretty baker was near, he felt the zing. His dormant heart moved. His dick twitched. His whole damn body awoke when she entered a room. And it shouldn’t. He had no business messing with her. Dancing with her at his sister Brandi’s wedding. Visiting Confection Connection with his nephew. Just because she was no longer a teenager, it didn’t change the fact she was still sweet, kind, and caring. Jill was a hard worker, too. This stunt she pulled today, traveling to the city in a major snowstorm to get candy molds so she could fulfill an order proved she was devoted to making her business a success.

  Sure, he’d complained about her carelessness, but he also understood it. All too well.

  “Same here.”

  Her smile widened. “Yeah?”

  He should draw back. Stop the madness before it started. She was a helper. She helped lost causes.

  Not him. Never him. Hell no. He didn’t see helpers. Didn’t do helpers. Not his thing.

  So, why the hell was he still holding the woman? Why didn’t he place her back in her seat?

  Because, with her warm, open gaze staring up at him, and sweet, full, inviting lips so close to his, Mason could no longer deny it. He ached.
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  “Yeah,” he replied, mouth hovering just above her parted lips.

  For so long, the need and yearning for something—someone—he’d managed to suppress finally broke through. He needed a woman. And Jill, with her quiet acceptance, gorgeous body and warm, healing heart was knocking him for a hell of a loop. The urge to tighten his hold and lose himself in her was strong.

  So damn strong…

  A knock sounded on the driver’s side window, jerking them apart.

  “Hey, you two decent?” Keiffer asked, his muffled voice barely audible through the glass.

  At the moment, his brother was lucky the glass separated them or Mason’s fist would be another cause for his muffled voice.

  “Those windows are awfully fogged,” the idiot said, continuing to push his luck. “Thought I’d better give you a warning. Ethan and Greg are here with the other Humvee.”

  A second later, Jill scrambled to her seat and opened the door. “Then you, Keiffer Wyne, get to give me a piggy-back ride up that hill. No way am I going to ruin my new boots. I’m liable to slip on my high-heels and bust my nose, again.”

  “We can’t have that.” His brother chuckled and twisted around to offer his back.

  Mason watched as the woman, who just moments before had warmed his lap with her soft curves, climbed onto his idiot younger brother. An unrecognized emotion spread through his shoulders and rippled down his spine.

  “Oh, Mason,” she called, a worried pitch to her voice. “Would you please grab my penis molds?”

  The cold, snow-filled winter air carried his brother’s distinctive snort. “Yes, Mason. Do grab the penises. You’ve had lots of practice.”

  Bastard.

  Not bothering to give his brother the finger, he grabbed the four molds from the back seat before following the laughing duo up the small hill to the two other guardsmen already working on the broken Humvee.