Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL

by Lauren Canan

  “Listen, you’re tired. I’ll be here a while. We’re gonna head out but I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Chance nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “And you...” Holly pointed at Cole. “You are so mean for not telling me Chance was home.” She scooted over to give him a sisterly hug. “But I guess we love you anyway.”

  He just chuckled. With one last look at Holly, Chance followed Cole out the door.

  Rather than drive, Holly took the footpath that extended from the clinic through the trees, over an old wooden footbridge that spanned Otter Creek and on a few yards farther to her small house. Chance is really home. He’d made it through how many deployments? She could only imagine. And he looked good. Better than good. It had been so many years. What had he done all that time? Fight wars? Dodge bullets? Probably accomplished feats that even if he could talk about them, she wouldn’t fully comprehend. Things she was no doubt better off not knowing.

  She picked up her pace. Amanda Stiller, her good friend for many years and her temporary babysitter, might be anxious to go to her own home unless she’d become engrossed in something on television. At fourteen months, baby Emma could be a handful, and Holly was anxious to relieve Amanda.

  But Amanda was a TV junkie and Holly had a satellite dish with some three hundred channels to keep Amanda occupied, so it was a good arrangement. Amanda often preferred to crash on her sofa instead of making the drive into town, especially now that she was in between jobs. She was an RN specializing in surgical care, and the local hospital had been forced to lay off half of its medical staff, but assurances had been given they would be recalled as soon as budget demands were met. Amanda saw it as an opportunity to catch up on her second job: being a couch potato.

  Holly stepped through the back door and heard the sound of one of Amanda’s favorite shows. The background music foretold something bad was about to happen. Seconds later there was a gunshot. A woman screamed and another began to sob. This was Friday night. So that meant Amanda was watching You Can’t Hide. Good grief.

  “Who died?” Holly asked as she dropped her bag into a chair.

  “That old witch, Ms. Latham. She got shot.”

  “Again? Are you sure it isn’t a rerun?”

  “It’s not.”

  “I wonder who did it this time.” Holly tried to contain the sarcasm. The fictional character had been shot, stabbed, choked and drowned more times than Holly could count and she didn’t regularly watch the show. Amanda and half the town were more than willing to bring her up to speed on who had done what, then ask if she had a guess who was behind it.

  “I’m betting John because he wants to marry her daughter and the old biddy had it out for him. I mean, whoever pulled the trigger, she had it coming. She was up to something. I could tell. If somebody didn’t shoot her, she’d have really hurt John sooner or later.”

  Holly clamped her mouth shut and headed for the kitchen. Amanda got so caught up in her soaps that she talked about the characters as though she’d just watched the evening news. Dear old Ms. Latham would be back in one form or another. Just today, the owner of one of Holly’s patients had remarked that the actress who played the crotchety old biddy had signed a contract for another year. But Holly wouldn’t spoil it for Amanda.

  “Are you staying over?”

  “Yeah. This sofa is way softer than my bed at home. And I still don’t have cable or satellite. All I can get is the local news and weather, and nothing exciting ever happens around here.”

  “You do know there are stores that are only too happy to sign you up for three hundred plus channels?”

  Amanda shrugged. “I’d rather be out here with you guys than sitting in that apartment alone. David won’t be back for another month. Oh. Almost forgot. I promised Emma we would go see the kites tomorrow.”

  “Out at the lake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d forgotten it was this weekend. That should be fun. She’ll enjoy it. It’s my Saturday to work but it’s only half a day.” Holly looked over the counter into the den. “Amanda, you don’t have to go to the park. You do so much for us anyway.”

  “Please. I want to or I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Thank you. I’ll close the clinic and get out there as soon as I can.”

  The commercial ended and Amanda turned back to her program. Holly made herself a pimento-and-cheese sandwich before heading for the baby’s room, eating as she went. Emma was asleep on her back, her little arms splayed out on either side of her head. The silver-blond curls surrounded her face like a halo. She bent over the bed and placed a kiss on the small forehead.

  Regret again filled her heart that Emma would never know her mother or father. Jason would have made a terrific dad. She hoped the pictures she had of her brother and the few she’d obtained of his wife would help Emma relate to them when she was older.

  Every minute she was forced to leave the baby in someone’s care, guilt hit hard and heavy. Often on the days she worked in the clinic, Emma stayed with her, either behind the counter or in the small office just off the lab, in her playpen. But on those days of ranch calls, like today, even knowing Amanda was taking care of her didn’t help reduce Holly’s self-reproach.

  Jason, her brother, had been killed two years ago in Iraq when an underground IED exploded, taking out his patrol vehicle and everyone on board. His death had brought on their father’s fatal heart attack. Four months later Jason’s wife died giving birth to Emma, making the baby an orphan before she ever opened her eyes. Now all they had was each other. Emma was safe and protected, and until the baby was grown and could make her own life choices, Holly would do everything in her power to ensure it stayed that way.

  She switched on the little night-light in the corner of the room and set her sights on the bathroom and a long hot soak in the tub. After undressing and filling the tub, she turned off the tap, settled back into the hot water and let her mind drift. It immediately went to Chance. He’d changed, but then didn’t everybody in twelve years? Cole had told her a couple of months ago that Chance had been wounded during a mission. She’d felt her blood turn cold as the shocking news had set in. No further information had been forthcoming, and all Holly could do was cling to the old belief that no news was good news. When Chance hadn’t appeared at his dad’s funeral, she’d just known something horrible had happened. She’d carried that fear for days, refusing to bother Cole or Wade during their time of grieving. If they got any news—good or bad—surely they would tell her. Then tonight when Chance walked into the clinic, the relief had been so overwhelming all she had been able to do was hold on to him and sob like a baby. He must’ve thought she’d turned into a total and complete dork.

  Bath over, she pulled on an old blue T-shirt, checked on Emma once more and fell into bed. She smiled in the darkness. Chance had finally come home. That thought ran through her mind over and over again as though daring her to believe it. She’d almost reconciled herself to the idea he might never return. In a way, he hadn’t. At least not the old Chance she’d known all her life. When she’d hugged him, it was like hugging a warm pillar of marble. The small scar on his jaw added to his intensity. There was a fierceness in his eyes. His face denoted wisdom far beyond his years. Cole had once mentioned Chance was thriving in the navy, moving up in rank much more quickly than others. Once he set his mind to do it, she wasn’t surprised.

  The rabble-rouser he’d been in his youth, the solitary bad boy, had been reshaped into a soldier: the best this country had to offer. He was big and dangerous and no doubt very capable. But while they may have redirected his spirit, no one would ever control it. It was that streak of wildness that made him who he was. His brothers didn’t have it. Just as their brown eyes would never be a hot icy-blue like Chance’s, their spirit would also never rival his. Chance had always been di
fferent, always found his own road. He’d found his place in life, a place he was meant to be. Unfortunately, it required him to put his life on the line each and every day, and that was something Holly wouldn’t let herself think about.

  For the first time, she knew why the older girls had gone a little crazy those dozen or so years ago. It was not something Chance did purposely. It was just part of who he was. It was in his stride, his voice, his touch—in the way he presented himself. It was the way he looked at a woman, making her very much aware of her own femininity and what he could do with it.

  Just being in his presence for a few amazing moments, she’d felt that silent challenge to come to him. If she did, instinct told her she would never be the same again. Before, she’d been a child and sexual attraction wasn’t even in the picture. Chance had seen her as a little sister. Now, as an adult, the look of male want in his eyes reinforced the fact that she was a woman in every sense of the word and he knew it. And her body had responded accordingly.

  With a moan she rolled over onto her side. Despite the years of dreaming he would someday come back and she would be the one in his life, she couldn’t imagine this was her wish coming true. Reality had long since become her guide. Chance was home because he’d been wounded and needed a place to recuperate. Then he would once again be gone. Twelve years and her life had gone on. She needed to let go of the little-girl fantasies. The world had changed and so had they. It was sad in a way, but the happy memories from her childhood, made even better with the passage of time, would always remain close to her heart.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Chance would still enjoy working with new colts and riding out to check the fences or rounding up the calves for annual inoculations and electronic branding. Horses used to be his passion. More than likely he hadn’t had that opportunity in a long while.

  He had also loved the river that ran for miles through the ranch land. Before Emma, she would often ride out to the place he loved the most, sit on the boulder that jutted out over the rushing water and try to imagine where he was and what he was doing. As the years rolled past, like fallen leaves carried out of sight by the waters in the stream, she’d had to accept she might never see Chance Masters again.

  But he was here. She would see him. Tomorrow. She wouldn’t think any further into the future than that. She absolutely would not, on the day of his arrival, consider how hard it would be when he left yet again. He is here. She could touch him, talk to him face-to-face and have an opportunity to make some new memories.

  She had to wonder how he was doing up in the big house. Suddenly being thrust into the lap of luxury probably wasn’t comfortable to him. While some dreamed of having even a tenth of the wealth of the Masters family, Chance had always shrugged it off, never wanting to talk about it. Holly imagined that the living accommodations he’d had for the past few years were vastly different from the mansion. Was he sleeping? Was the fact he was at the ranch making him restless? Or maybe he normally kept different hours, awake at night and asleep during the day.

  If she didn’t get to sleep pretty soon, she might go down to the barn. Anything beat tossing and turning in this bed. And if Chance Masters couldn’t sleep, the barn was where he would be.

  Two

  “I’m not saying you have to leave the SEALs and transition into the corporation,” Wade defended himself. “I’m just saying I think that’s what Dad would have wanted.”

  How in hell could Chance argue about something neither he nor his older brother could prove or deny? His father had said nothing about time frames the day he’d told Chance he was washing his hands of his youngest son and his outrageous behavior. He’d strongly suggested Chance join a branch of the military before he ended up in prison. So he’d enlisted in the SEAL program. He very much doubted his dad cared if he ever laid eyes on his youngest son again—and he never did—let alone expected him to slide into an executive position in the billion-dollar conglomerate upon his death. Apparently Wade hadn’t been told everything that had gone down that day in their father’s office. And tonight at least, Chance wasn’t about to enlighten him.

  Wade had taken to the role of CEO in the corporation as easily as downing the first cold beer after working the cattle chutes on a hundred-and-ten-degree day. As chief financial officer, Cole had pretty much had the same experience. But corporate America had never appealed to Chance. Not when he was younger. And damn sure not now.

  “It’s always been a family business,” Wade continued. “When his brother died, Dad carried on by himself. And he did pretty damn good. I think it was always his intention that his sons would join him.”

  The kitchen staff entered to remove the empty dinner plates, inquire about dessert and offer more coffee. Chance nodded and pushed the twenty-two-carat gold-rimmed cup toward the man standing to his left. He knew the family saga. He didn’t have to hear it again. It was painfully ironic to him that their dad had devoted his entire life to building a dynasty for a family he’d all but ignored for the sake of building it. Wade could call it what he wanted, but that was screwed up. And from what Chance could see, Wade was going to be just like their father. He just hadn’t as yet met a woman who would put up with it. It was a bit disconcerting to think of the type of woman who would.

  “Why don’t you take a day and fly into Dallas with us while you’re here.” It didn’t sound like a request to Chance, but he let it go. “Take a look at some facts and figures and get an idea of what Masters Corporation, Ltd., is about. What we do. What we are trying to achieve.”

  Wade seemed impervious to the fact that Chance already had a company. It was the US Navy. And for the life of him, Chance didn’t know how to get that across without an out-and-out clash that might leave one, or both, wounded inside. Now was definitely not the time to go there.

  “No problem,” Chance agreed and stood up from his chair, ready to get out of this room and check out something that did interest him: the ranch. “Name the day and let’s do it.”

  It wasn’t that he had no concern or curiosity for the business. He would be glad to have an inside look at what had provided income for all the Masterses exceedingly well for three generations. He just doubted he was ready to put down his weapon and pick up a pen and a calculator. Still, he owed Wade enough to let him have bragging rights. Wade had always been there for him so a trip into Dallas was the least Chance could do.

  Wade reached out, offering Chance his hand, which he readily accepted. “It’s good to have you back, little brother. Don’t think too badly of me for wanting to keep you around a little longer.”

  “Oh, I absolutely understand. You’re still ticked off that you never could beat me in a game of chess.”

  Wade’s smile was immediate. “Something I intend to change.”

  “Yeah? Good luck with that.”

  Wade laughed and Chance took the opportunity to leave on a high note. He’d known this visit would be hard. He just hadn’t realized he’d be drawn into such a nettle-filled quagmire. His emotions about his father dying were screwing with his head; he wasn’t sure if he should feel saddened or relieved. Wade was determined to make him part of the corporation, pushing him to leave the military. And heaven help him when he was near Holly. His body had hardened just saying hello to her earlier in the clinic. He was mentally at war between wanting to know this very sexy, beautiful young woman a lot better and staying well clear of his best friend’s little sister. It hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours since he’d arrived at the ranch and already she had him in knots.

  It was dark when Chance ventured outside. The fresh night air felt good. He inhaled the scents of pine and freshly cut alfalfa. He was determined to not give in to the stiffness in his knee where the surgeons had removed a bullet and tried their best to repair bone fragments and torn ligaments. He’d never made it through a full thirty-day leave without being called in early for immediate deploym
ent. But this time, he knew that was not going to happen. He rubbed his left arm, hoping it might relieve the dull pain that lingered from the injury to his shoulder. The last mission had taken out two of his men and left him with a couple of brass .45-caliber souvenirs. The first bullet had missed his heart by millimeters, so it could have been a hell of a lot worse. But the rounds from the AK-47 had still managed to do enough damage to kick his butt and put him in the hospital for a few weeks. The round that blew out his knee had been the real zinger. That was the injury that could change his life.

  The attending doctor hadn’t been convinced Chance could get back to 100 percent. For the missions Chance was trained to do, it was crucial. The doc had been up-front with him. Further medical evaluation was warranted and he was sending the case to the medical evaluation board for review. A soldier might be physically able to return to a full life as a civilian, but the injuries could prevent him from performing his duties, especially the duties of a SEAL.

  Chance had been told straight up this might result in a medical discharge, something he was not willing to even think about. What in the hell would he do if that should happen? The issue was not about money, but the way he lived his life. He’d found his place. Hell, he’d made his place, worked harder than most men to attain it. He wasn’t ready to step down to a trainer position or become a desk jockey, but at least he would have those options. Hopefully.

  He was grateful for the time he had here with his family. He loved his brothers and he didn’t want to cause any hard feelings. If that should happen he would carry the regret with him a long time. But their roads had gone in different directions. He respected what they had accomplished. He hoped they would do the same.