The Marine's Temptation

by Jennifer Morey

  “If you like, you can join up with us later,” Georgia said. Or not. Hopefully, this mutual interest Ruby had with Hayden would keep her here and away from Jackson’s kidnapping investigation.

  “Well...if you’re sure.” She smiled coyly at Hayden.

  “I’m sure.” She met Carson’s wry look. He knew what she’d just done. At least he didn’t fight her on it. Now all they’d have to worry about was being alone together.

  * * *

  Carson brought Georgia a glass of wine and put his beer down before sitting beside her at the picnic table they had all to themselves. They had made their way around the barn, and she had met more people than she could possibly remember.

  “What do you think so far?” he asked after sipping his beer.

  What did he mean? “About what?”

  “All these rich people.”

  Oh, he was teasing her. “I think they’re rich.” She sent him a mock smile.

  With a grin, he left it at that, making her wonder why. Was he playing games with her? Or was he just pushing her because he was offended by what she thought of him? Carson, offended? No. He was way too confident for that. He seemed amused. Charmed, even. Why would her opinion of him and his family charm him? What was her opinion of him? When she’d first arrived, she was full of animosity. She’d expected Patsy’s kids to carry through with what she’d started and keep her stepmother from the inheritance that was rightfully hers. But Carson had surprised her. Some in his family may be coldhearted snobs but he was not. Was just being a part of the family that had so hurt Ruby enough to keep her reticent? She didn’t know him, after all. And didn’t everyone put on their best face when they first met someone? Maybe the evil side would emerge later. If she gave him that much of a chance.

  Dismayed that her thoughts had even gone down that path, she looked toward the dance floor and spotted her stepmother doing a two-step with Hayden. They were really hitting it off, ogling each other, oblivious to anyone else. They hadn’t run out of things to talk about, either. It worried her that her stepmother had taken to the rancher so quickly. Would she end up repeating old mistakes? She hadn’t taken any money from Reginald when they’d divorced. It had been a matter of principle. And guilt. Poor Ruby. But she didn’t look like a woman to feel sorry for right now.

  “She fits right in,” Carson said.

  Realizing he’d followed her gaze and that he was likely challenging her again, she said, “They just met. He could turn out to be no different than Reginald.” Just like what she’d been thinking about him.

  “Hayden is a good man. He lost his wife five years ago. She was his high school sweetheart and he made his millions the hard way...on his own. Not only is she safe with him, he would take care of her like a gentleman.”

  Would Carson do the same with a woman? And what did he mean by take care of her? That he kept his women?

  She wasn’t prejudiced against all rich people. He had to know that, so she took the risk of offending him again and said in a light tone, “Well, then it’s probably a good thing he isn’t an Adair.”

  He wasn’t. He just grinned, enjoying what he perceived as her misconception. Maybe she did have a misconception, but the agony Ruby had suffered when she had been a part of this family was too deeply ingrained in her. She couldn’t just turn off years of conditioning. And letting down her guard with him would be a recipe for unhappiness, as far as she could see.

  “How much did this cost?” He fingered her scarf.

  She looked down at his masculine hand lifting the soft, silky green material and then letting it fall back against her chest. She met the playfulness in his eyes.

  “I don’t remember.” She did. It had been expensive. She saved her money so that she could go on a few hundred-dollar shopping sprees every so often. She could spend an entire day putting outfits together, and then loved organizing them in her closet and wearing them until she saved enough for her next spree.

  “The purse?”

  She couldn’t say she didn’t remember that one. It was a famous American brand. “Three hundred or thereabouts.”

  He whistled. “You like expensive things.”

  “I like clothes.” Lots and lots of clothes. Plus, accessories. The accessories were the best part about putting outfits together. But she’d never tell him that.

  “That could cost a good amount of money if you do it often enough,” he said, sipping his beer without removing his gaze from her.

  She did. Something else she wasn’t going to tell him. But then, she didn’t have to. He’d figured that out on his own. And, oh, he was having fun. She discovered that tickled her. He had an infectious sense of humor.

  She couldn’t stop a brief laugh. “Okay, you got me.”

  His deep chuckle did more than tickle her.

  “There you are.”

  Carson’s brother interrupted what would have ended up being a long, hot stare.

  “Georgia,” Whit said in greeting.

  “Mr. Adair.” She sat back, realizing she’d leaned toward Carson as though his charm had enticed her to.

  “Call me Whit. We are in a barn, after all.”

  She smiled and then Whit turned to Carson.

  “I’ve finally managed to get away from Elizabeth,” he said. “And we don’t have mediation lawyers and police around anymore.” He looked over the crowd in the barn. “Just a bunch of neighbors and friends.”

  What was he talking about?

  “Why do you need to get away from Elizabeth?” Carson asked.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I want it to be a surprise for her.” Something caught his eye to stop him.

  Georgia followed his look along with Carson. Landry had arrived. She laughed exuberantly with a group of men who were clearly taken by her. She looked like Scarlet O’Hara in that infamous scene, only—Georgia looked closer—maybe a little tipsy.

  “She’s later than she usually is,” Carson said.

  “Yeah. Have you noticed how different she’s been?” Whit asked. “She’s taken Dad really hard, but I expected her to be moving on by now.”

  “Mom’s behavior shocked her, I think,” Carson said.

  “Well, maybe it’s time to shock her out of her funk. Did you know she had to cancel a charity event last week?”

  Carson turned a sharp look to him. “No.”

  “Yeah. Stayed out late the night before. Come to find out she hadn’t finished making arrangements. I doubt the sponsor will use her again.”

  Carson stared at his sister awhile. “It’s so unlike her. She’s usually so punctual and together.”

  “Yeah. Bad girl isn’t a term I’d stick her with but...”

  Both brothers watched Landry swing an arm around one of the handsome men in her circle. She spilled a little of her drink and tipped her head back to laugh at her clumsiness.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Carson said.

  “So will I. Between the two of us, maybe we can talk some sense into her.”

  “She needs to accept what happened.”

  “Something I could say to you, too, brother.”

  Carson turned another sharp look toward his brother. “Me?” Carson wasn’t a partier and he’d grabbed his father’s death by the horns. He was having no trouble coping. Except...

  Georgia understood what Whit meant. Carson hadn’t accepted his injury and its impact on his future.

  “It’s why I need to talk to you. It’s about AdAir Corp. I’ve been hesitant up until now to broach the subject. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

  Perplexed, Carson’s brow rose. “This sounds serious. Feel about what, Whit?”

  “I should have pulled you into my office for this discussion, but there never seemed to be a good time for that.”

  Not with their father’s murder, Jackson’s kidnapping and someone shooting at Carson mucking things up.

  “Okay. You’ve got my attention. This is about the business.”

  Wh
it pulled out a chair and sat, flattening his hands on the table. He was still hesitant. Whatever he needed to say, he had major reservations.

  “Whit? It’s me. Carson. Just tell me.”

  “You might not like it. And it’s something I really need from you.”

  “Okay. What is it? I’m sure we can work it out.”

  Georgia began to feel like an intruder. “Maybe I should go talk to Ruby.”

  She started to stand, when both men said, “No,” at the same time.

  “You can stay,” Carson said.

  She leaned back against the chair, and Carson turned to Whit again, who hesitated yet again.

  “Carson, I know how you felt about Dad. His business. But with Elizabeth pregnant, I don’t want to spend so much time at the office. Now that you’re back and out of the Marines, maybe you’d consider taking over for me?”

  Georgia felt the internal shock wave that rendered Carson still and speechless. He did not react well to that request. He hadn’t expected it, either. Whatever he’d thought they could figure out hadn’t included this.

  “Nothing you need to decide now. I wasn’t planning on leaving soon. But give it some thought, okay?”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’d like to stay close to home. Work the ranch, maybe.”

  How sweet. He wanted to stay close to his wife and raise a family. Beside her, Carson’s profile told a different story, as if he felt squeezed into a corner. Not just cornered. Pressed there. Crushed.

  “Maybe you should hire someone,” Carson said.

  Whit’s head angled and his mouth frowned in disappointment. “I didn’t expect you to react positively to this, not right away. But I don’t want to hire from the outside.”

  “I’m not qualified.”

  “Yes, you are. You know the business. Whether you like it or not, you know it. And I’d train you, help you with the transition.”

  “Whit, I don’t think—”

  “You need to put the Marines behind you, Carson. What happened.”

  Whit meant when Carson had been shot. There was so much emotion radiating off him that Georgia became certain whatever conundrum he had over leaving the Marines affected him greatly. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d been forced because he’d been shot. And now the idea of taking over for Whit, taking his father’s place, did not go over well with him. He recoiled against it.

  “All I ask is that you consider it,” Whit said.

  Carson stood. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll think about it. What else am I going to do with my life than run Dad’s company?” Bitterness dripped from his tone.

  He looked down at Georgia. “I’m heading back to the house. You coming or waiting for your mom?”

  He sounded curt and annoyed. No, troubled.

  “Oh...” Georgia was so stunned by his reaction that she fumbled for a response. “I’ll wait.”

  “Carson, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, but I had to talk to you about it. I don’t want the company controlled by an outsider. It’s a family business.”

  “I said I’d think about it, Whit.” With that, he stalked off.

  Georgia watched him go, more than a little curious over what had made him so surly. When he disappeared outside the barn, she turned to Whit.

  “Well, that went worse than I thought it would,” he said.

  She looked toward the barn doors. Carson was home, but he didn’t want to be here. He was here not by choice. He was a man who needed to be in charge of his own direction. Take that away and what was left? A man going through a life change. Resisting it every step of the way.

  “He hates the idea of following our father,” Whit said, bringing her gaze back to him. “But he has nowhere else to go.”

  “He could do worse than running a successful company.”

  Whit grunted his doubt. “Tell him that.”

  Maybe she would. Because she was sure something more than being shot had put all that emotion in him. More than rebelling against his father. And more than his father’s murder. What dismayed her was that something she couldn’t control made her want to find out.

  Chapter 3

  Today, Georgia wore a long-sleeved, soft orange T-shirt with a flowing black tank top over that. Carson walked beside her on their way to the plane. Her top had subtle floral embroidery and all her accessories matched the soft orange. Flower earrings, bracelet, purse, belt. Black skinny jeans that had him checking out her butt too often.

  “How many suitcases did you bring?” he asked.

  “Huh?” She stopped at their gate. People glided by on the moving walkway. A woman passed with a pet carrier.

  He indicated her purse. “You seem to have a purse for every outfit.”

  “I have a suitcase for those and shoes. And one more for the rest.”

  “For someone who doesn’t like money, you sure have a knack for fashion.”

  She cocked her head. “Shopping is a fun stress reliever for me. And I like putting outfits together. It doesn’t have anything to do with money.”

  He gave her a skeptical look and then guided her to the seats in front of their gate. She must spend a wad each time she went out to buy a new outfit. He couldn’t wait to see what she wore next—and he disagreed. A woman could shop a lot more with money. She had to have money to put those outfits together. Was she being defiant when she said it had nothing to do with money? Suppressing an inner craving to spend, spend, spend? He could have some fun with that, shower her with luxuries and see if she liked it. Starting with right now, as soon as they boarded.

  Georgia slipped her purse off her shoulder and placed it on the seat next to her. He’d checked his carry-on since she’d had two bags. They were traveling light as a result. He sat beside her, trying not to overtly notice her thigh in the snug jeans as she crossed one sexy leg over the other.

  “Why do you have to meet with your ex-commander?”

  So far she hadn’t tried to pry information out of him. He’d told her they’d stop in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, first, before heading to Raleigh, and that was all. Now he realized she’d strategically waited until she had him alone. Maybe now she could get him to talk.

  “He’s got some things he wants to discuss in person about my last mission and since the mission was classified, we have to meet in a SCIF. Sergeant Major Mark Copeland of the 2nd Marine Special Operations Battalion was a hands-on kind of man and had been upset over the failed mission.”

  “What’s a skiff?”

  “Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, a secure office or meeting facility where classified information can be processed or discussed.”

  As she tipped her head to the side and smiled her intrigue, her dark red hair slipped down from her shoulder, shiny and thick. “You have a clearance?”

  Was he ruining her disparaging opinion of him? “Top secret.”

  “Why do you think that man who shot at you is connected to your mission?”

  He couldn’t discuss most of it. “If you had a clearance, I could bring you to my meeting and tell you.”

  “Does Whit have a clearance?”

  He’d discussed everything with Whit. “Yes.” AdAir Corp had a SCIF on-site. Carson could have talked to his commander from there, but his commander wanted him to meet in person because he had some intel to share. That meant they’d continued their surveillance after Carson had come home. He was encouraged by that. He’d had a hard time leaving after the mission in Myanmar failed.

  “Why didn’t your mission go as planned?” she asked.

  “We were discovered,” he said. “To this day, we don’t know how.” That was pretty much all he could say.

  “You were attacked?”

  “Yes.” His mind started wandering where he didn’t want it. Seeing Georgia catching the change in him, he faced forward and hoped she’d drop the subject.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s classified.”

  She eyed him awhile, her smart librarian brain ad
ding things up. “Not all of it’s classified.”

  No, but he still wasn’t going to talk about it.

  “Did your father know you were shot?”

  He wondered why she would ask such a question. “Yes. He was killed after that.” He recalled the last conversation he’d had with him. He had still been in the hospital and his father had called, insisting on speaking with him.

  You get shot and I have to get a call from your commander? Reginald had roared. Were you going to tell me?

  I was shot, Carson had replied, thinking to himself, Why did he even care?

  His father’s apparent offense was more about control. He’d been angry that Carson wouldn’t have called to let him know that he’d been shot.

  I told you joining the Marines was a mistake. When are they sending you home?

  I’m not coming home.

  I’ve had enough of your attitude, Carson. You’re coming home where you belong.

  I don’t belong anywhere near you.

  At that time he hadn’t known he’d be honorably discharged from the Marines. The next day, the doctors had informed him he’d be lucky to walk again. Hearing that had been a tough blow. He’d denied it flat out at first. Not walk? Screw that! He’d walk again, damn it. It had been a long recovery. Once he was released from the hospital, he’d begun a rigorous physical therapy regimen. And he had walked again. But the injury was too severe to pass the physical requirements for the MARSOC. Finally, he’d had to accept his fate. He would never be a part of a Marine Special Forces team again.

  It was then that he’d gotten the call from Whit.

  “Carson. I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but Dad is dead...”

  The last words he’d ever spoken to his father were the first that had entered his mind right then. As Whit explained the murder, all he could think was, I don’t belong anywhere near you.

  The guilt had only stung sharper when the reading of the will had revealed Reginald’s secret agony that had turned him into a heartless businessman.

  “Why don’t you want to take over his company?” Georgia asked.

  He looked at her and realized she’d been watching him while he reminisced. “I’m not an executive.”