by Marie Harte
She found a thick ancient oak tree some distance from the buildings and leaned against it, enjoying the freedom of being outside by herself, brain on pause. When she returned to the bunkhouse, Lane would have the sensor placements mapped, and they’d have to visit their action plan for tomorrow. Part of that included checking out the horses Mason Rowell said he’d make available to him.
Mason. Holy shit. He was the last person she’d expected to see here. Or ever again.
That one night they’d spent together had been a single night out of her life, sort of in an alternate universe. She had been out of the military only two weeks at that time, about to take the job with Mission Control and hoping to let her hair down after all those months of discipline flying as a Nightstalker and before that as a regular military chopper pilot. She had checked into the hotel in Dallas, planning to get roaring drunk for one night, sleep it off, and contact Seth Crowder the next day.
She had, in fact, made a good dent in her sobriety when Mason Rowell walked into the hotel bar. The first thing she thought when she saw him was hot damn! At least six foot four of rangy muscle, broad shoulders, and long legs. Blond hair, streaked by the sun and just shy of needing a cut, topped off a face that could have been the model for a commercial for an iconic cowboy.
She sat in a booth, watching him and nursing her drink, while he hitched himself onto a bar stool and ordered his drink. She was still watching him when he got to the third one, glanced around, spotted her, and eased his way over to her side. As if some unspoken words had been exchanged between them, he slid onto the bench opposite her and gave her a crooked smile.
She still remembered those chocolate-brown eyes framed by sooty lashes, the square jaw and high cheekbones, the barest cleft in his chin. He looked at her, touched her glass with his, and nodded. Things had escalated from there.
Even now, there were nights she still remembered the touch of his hands on her body, the touch of his mouth on her skin, the heavy feel of his cock inside her. They had fucked every possible way and in every possible position. They barely spoke, the only words they used being explicitly erotic.
She was the one who awoke first, barely after dawn. He was still sleeping soundly, hair mussed, rough stubble on his cheek in a sexy shadow of a beard, the sheet barely draped across the tight muscles of his very fine ass. As carefully as possible, she’d slid out of bed, thrown on her slacks and blouse, stuffed her underwear in her purse, and eased herself out of the room.
For weeks afterwards, whenever she had a few quiet minutes, she’d allowed herself to wonder what would have happened if she’d stayed around until he woke up. Would they have had sex again? You couldn’t call what two strangers did making love. Would they have talked about themselves? Gotten to know each other?
But that was useless, foolish mind-wandering on her part. She had in no way been ready to start a relationship, and she’d had the feeling he wasn’t either. And now, here they were, thrown together in the unlikeliest of situations. If only her body hadn’t reacted to him so instantly. She was sure the soft T-shirt material had done little to disguise the hardening of her nipples. And she had to hope he hadn’t caught a scent of her musk because two seconds in his company and her panties were soaked with her liquid as erotic images danced in her brain.
She’d need every bit of her personal discipline to survive this assignment.
Tilting her head up, she stared at the moon, wondering if he was up at the house thinking about her. Remembering. Feeling the same way she did. Had today kicked those dormant memories alive for him, too?
Crap. She was driving herself crazy.
“I couldn’t believe it was you when you climbed out of that chopper today.”
His deep, rich voice startled her. He’d moved so silently, she hadn’t heard him approach, or maybe she was too lost in her own thoughts. That scared the crap out of her. What if it happened when they were actually in active mode? Was she letting this man affect the skills she’d honed for so many years?
Damn, damn, damn.
Before she could move, he was right in front of her, arms on either side of her, caging her against the tree. This close, she caught the scent of his aftershave, something earthy that teased at her senses. There was enough moonlight so she could see the strong planes of his face and the heavy shock of his hair. She clenched her fists to keep herself from running her fingers through it.
“Well?” he prompted. “Nothing to say?”
She swallowed. “I…didn’t expect the client to be you. If you recall, we never exchanged introductions that night we spent together, so when Seth gave me the assignment the name meant nothing.”
“And I didn’t expect my hot-shot chopper pilot and team leader to be the woman who burned up the sheets with me a year ago.”
“I-I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again,” she stammered.
“Neither did I. Especially since you ditched me before I even opened my eyes the next morning.”
She lowered her gaze for a moment. “I was frightened by the intensity of what we had. I still am, to tell the truth. And I was at a major crossroads in my life. Just out of the service. Starting a new job. I didn’t want anything to distract me.”
He nipped her chin. “Is that what I was? A distraction?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I was afraid you were going to be a lot more.”
“I thought you were my bad luck charm.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Right after that, we started losing cattle and then Stick found the evidence of the smugglers. I thought it was payback.”
She frowned. “For what? For having a night of raunchy sex?”
“I used you, Kris. You didn’t even know it. That’s why I didn’t even want to know your name.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was in Dallas to get engaged to a woman I’d had a relationship with for two years.”
Nausea rumbled up from her stomach. “Then why were you with me? You damn sure didn’t seem like your head was somewhere else.”
“When I got to her condo, she opened the door wearing only a man’s shirt.” He paused. “Another man’s.” He shook his head. “I’ll spare you the sordid details, but I was half-blasted by the time I got together with you. I was out to get drunk and forget.” He shook his head, his mouth twisted in distaste. “That’s what I did with you. And when shit happened after that, I figured it was payback for me being such a jackass.”
She touched her lips, remembering those kisses from a year ago. “I did the same. You didn’t have a corner on that market.”
He tilted his head. “Yeah? What fucked up your life?”
“Stuff.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’d spent six years flying choppers for the military, the last of them as a Nightstalker. When you’re constantly in a war zone, you lose yourself as a person. And I didn’t want to be one of those women who has a string of affairs between battles.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And I needed to feel like a woman again. Desired. Feminine. But not with someone I’d have to see the next day. Or any days after that. I needed to get it out of my system and move on to my new job with Mission Control. So you see? We both carry that burden.”
They stared at each other in the half-darkness. The sexual tension shimmering between them was so intense it was nearly visible.
“We can’t do this,” she told him.
“I agree.” But his gazed locked tightly with hers.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
But neither of them stepped away.
Kris didn’t know who made the first move, but, in seconds, Mason’s firm lips were pressed to hers, molding to the shape of her mouth. Without even thinking, she opened, and his tongue swept inside, licking and tasting, drinking from her. He fed from her like a hungry tiger, the kiss so intense she felt it everywhere in her body. Just as the one time they’d been together, he made her pulse thump with an accelerated rhythm and the blood
race in her veins. She squeezed her thighs in a useless effort to contain the driving beat in the walls of her pussy, signaling her instant need for him.
She slid her hands up the hard wall of his chest and tangled her fingers in his hair, full and blond like the mane of a lion. As his tongue continued to arouse her, she grasped his hair tighter and held his head to hers.
Only the need to breathe separated them, but when they did, his lips were still so close only a sheet of paper could slide between them. His breath was a soft breeze on her skin, his eyes like hot coals of fire boring into hers.
“I wondered if it would still be the same.” His voice was low, gravelly, harsh with need. “If merely touching you would blister me with your heat and make my cock harder than a steel rod.” He pressed his body against hers, the wide shaft pushing against her mound. “It’s all I can do not to strip you naked right here and fuck you until neither of us can breathe anymore.”
“I—” She swallowed, searching for the right words to say. How could she tell him Yes! when they were in this awkward situation?
“I can tell you feel the same way,” he growled. “You can’t fake that kiss.”
“I know,” she whispered. She wet her lips. “I didn’t want to.”
He ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, following the path where she’d licked. “I didn’t either. I nearly hogtied myself to stop from coming out here tonight.”
He slid his hand beneath her hoodie and T-shirt, cupping a breast and pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger. A shock of electricity zapped straight through her from that hard bud to the center of her cunt. She pushed her hips toward him, and he groaned again at the contact.
“Feel that?” He tilted his head and nipped the lobe of her ear. “I want to be inside you so bad, I hurt. I don’t even know what this is but all I have to do is see you and I’m on fire.”
He drew his tongue the length of her neck, swirling it in the soft spot behind her ear. She couldn’t stifle the small moan that escaped her mouth.
“This is crazy,” she protested.
“Uh-huh.” But his tongue continued on its magic path.
“If my guys knew about this, I’d lose my strength as their leader.”
He shifted until he was staring directly into her eyes again. “You think they never have sex?”
She bit back a smile. “Of course they do. Just not around me. Besides, there’s still the old double standard for men and women. I worked my ass off to get this team leader position, and I don’t intend to jeopardize it. Not even for—”
She broke off the sentence.
“Not even for the best sex of your life?” His voice was low and deep and rumbled through her.
She lifted her shoulder in a so what gesture. “Where could it go, Mason? You live here. I live there. And I don’t think you’re interested in anything permanent any more than I am.”
He was still kneading her breast and tormenting her nipple, heat zipping through her like a trail of fire.
“It can go wherever we want it to. Or it can go no place.” He slipped his hand from beneath her shirt and trailed down to her crotch, rubbing the denim fabric of her jeans. “Soaked, like I knew they’d be. You’re as hot for it as I am.”
“This can’t happen,” she told him again.
“Yeah? We’ll see. I’ll bet you want it as much as I do, so we’ll find a way.”
He crushed his mouth to hers again, thrusting his tongue inside. Before she realized what he was doing, he’d unsnapped her jeans, shoved his hand inside her panties, and run his fingers the length of her slit. Then he yanked his hand back and very deliberately licked each finger separately.
“We’ll find a way,” he repeated. Then he was gone, as silently as he’d arrived.
Kris leaned against the tree trunk, grateful for its support. Her legs were shaking, and her heart was trip hammering. The pulse in her cunt beat hard enough to reverberate through her body. She had to forcibly restrain herself from ripping off her clothes and screaming at Mason to come back and fuck her. What on earth had she been thinking? Nothing. That was her damn problem. The moment Mason Rowell had touched her, she went up in flames again, her control disintegrating. If she didn’t get her shit together, this was going to be a very protracted, very difficult assignment.
She stood beneath the tree for a several minutes, evening out her breathing and her heart rate. Pulling in the edges of her frayed control, she composed herself enough so her face betrayed nothing and she could have a conversation with her team. She couldn’t give them even the slightest hint of what had happened during the last few minutes with their client.
By the time she reached the bunkhouse again, she was pretty sure she was composed. Taking a deep breath, she mounted the three steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Ted, her expert with a long-range rifle, was at the table, cleaning his gun. Lane was fiddling with the laptop, and the others were either studying the maps or working on something else.
“We need to turn in early,” she reminded everyone. “I want us out of bed at sunup and on the range.”
“If we get a breakfast as good as dinner was tonight, I’m there already,” Ted joked.
“Yeah,” Lane added. “We’ll need to do pushups to keep from carrying too much weight on the chopper,”
“Very funny. Apparently, the client made arrangements with Seth for all our meals. It sure beats having to drive around trying to find a place where the food is edible.”
“Did you tell him we might kidnap his housekeeper?” Ray Donovan asked.
“Ha ha. Let’s get done what we need to and turn in. Tomorrow will feel like an endless day. Breakfast at six-thirty with the hands.”
“Jesus.” Dix Noble blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “It’s like being back in the Marines.”
“Except the pay is better,” she reminded him. “And we’ve had less sleep and earlier start times with other assignments. Man up, you guys. I’ll be bright-eyed and ready to go, so I expect the same from the rest of you.”
“Lighten up,” Ted teased. “You know we’re just yanking your chain, Kris. We’re good to go. You call the shots, and we follow, willingly.”
“Better be. You know what happens when you get on my bad side.”
Their groans were punctuated by laughter. She knew they would do whatever was needed. They had since this team was formed, and she had faith they’d continue to. It hadn’t taken much time at all for her to earn their allegiance and bring them together under her as a cohesive unit. A lot of that was based on shared respect for each other.
She grabbed her duffel and hauled it into the bathroom with her. When she was on assignment with the team like this, and they weren’t forced to sleep outside, she wore sweats and a T-shirt to sleep in. Anything sexless. She’d fought hard in a male-dominated military for her place with Special Operations Air Regiment (SOAR), and she carried the same determination into her job with Mission Control. Which was another damn good reason not to get into anything with Mason Rowell.
If only she could tell her body that.
*
MASON HADN’T MEANT to slam the back door when he entered the house, but the combination of irritation and sexual frustration was eroding his personal discipline.
“Something got your shorts in a bunch?”
Martina DeRosa, his housekeeper, was setting up the big coffee pot in the kitchen. She raised one eyebrow.
“Sorry. It flew out of my hands.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave him one of her up and down g;ancces. “The expression on your face says different. Don’t tell me it’s that female out there.”
“I’m not telling you a thing. Anyway, she’s got nothing to do with anything. She’s here to do a job. Period.”
Martina snorted. “Fine. Whatever you say. But you’ve got the same expression on your face you had when you came back from Dallas a year ago. And you had it all through dinner. You better hope I’m the only one who noticed yo
u’ve got a stick up your butt.”
“Don’t you know mouthy housekeepers get fired?” he snapped.
“You’d be lost without me, and you damn well know it. Mason, it’s about time you found yourself a woman and settled down, and I mean it. You don’t want to get old alone and miserable like your father did.”
Mason snorted. “I think he was alone because he was so miserable. Who would have him?”
“Not your mother, that’s for sure. She needed to divorce him, but she should have taken you with her.”
“Leave it alone,” he warned her.
“You’re like my own son.” She went on as if he hadn’t said a word. “I wish your father had hired me well before he did. I might have turned you into a human being. The military took its toll on you, too.”
“I tried doing what you suggested once, remember? See how well that turned out?”
“Bad choice.” She flapped a dishtowel at him. “I tried to tell you that.” She heaved a sigh. “Go fix yourself a drink. It might improve your disposition.”
Mason filled a rocks glass from the cupboard with ice and stomped into his den where he took the bottle of Jack Daniel’s Black from the cupboard. He’d never been all that much of a drinker, but when he had a taste for whiskey, he favored that smooth Tennessee blend. He poured a small amount over the ice cubes and took a slow sip. It warmed his body as it worked its way through his system, but it didn’t help his situation at all.
Martina was probably right, but old habits died hard. It had been difficult enough for him to open himself to a woman that one time. Once bitten twice shy. He should have it tattooed on his forehead.
The smartest thing for him to do—what he should have done right away—was call Seth Crowder and inform him he needed another team. Of course, that would have meant explaining why, and he had no plausible excuse. You couldn’t tell the head of an agency that you had the hots for his team leader so bad you didn’t know if you could keep your cock in your pants.