His to Protect

by Karen Rock

Didn’t deserve to.

  Jeff couldn’t get the life back Mark had cost him. And Mark sure as hell didn’t deserve to have a life now, either. Not one full of things Jeff would never enjoy. Definitely not one that included Jeff’s sister.

  Mark wouldn’t dishonor his friend by being with her, or risk his crew’s safety by letting thoughts of her distract him.

  Tomorrow, he’d request a switch to night flights. With his schedule flipped, he’d be less likely to see her again during this mission.

  Cassie forgiving him was crazy. She didn’t understand what she said. Their attraction must be blinding her from the truth. With some time apart, she’d remember every reason she should hate him.

  The thought cut him through and he stopped on the trail. He studied a tall bush, stripped bare of its blooms, as it bent back and forth with the ever-present wind.

  His life was just like that. Following whatever direction fate pointed him in. Why should he get to choose his destiny when Jeff couldn’t?

  He’d joined the Coast Guard to be a hero but he’d fallen. Rising again required hard work, discipline, focus and sacrifice.

  At the top of his sacrifice list: Cassie.

  Why, for a moment, had he thought it okay to be with her?

  Cassie was supposed to be just a memory. An incredible one-night stand that had left him wanting more. But she’d delved deeper, become embedded, and he didn’t know how to dig her out, so he’d avoid her instead.

  He damn well didn’t deserve her.

  7

  “THANK YOU, CAPTAIN VOGT. This means a lot to me.”

  Cassie shook the TACON mission commander’s hand and strode from his office the following afternoon, the synapses in her brain firing full throttle.

  She’d done it. Her nursing shoes squelched on the tiled floor as she stepped briskly to the commandeered resort office’s supply room. Polish and glass cleaner. Fresh paint. Despite the recent devastation, the smell of renewal surrounded her—life marching on. Maybe this was her chance to do the same.

  With Marjorie Little’s recommendation, and her own list of credentials that included being a qualified emergency medical technician with flight nurse training, she’d gained permission to stand in for Mark’s injured medic tomorrow while they waited for a replacement.

  She passed a bank of windows and lifted her hair off her neck, hoping to catch the breeze that bent the large hibiscus bushes lining the circular drive out front. All those years spent driving to Boise for post-RN training were finally being put to use. She’d never thought she’d use them, and had been almost surprised by the long list when she’d detailed her extra certifications to both Nurse Little and the commander. She’d achieved a lot during her seven years after nursing school. Then again, how else to while away the time in a small town? It wasn’t like hot pilots dropped out of the Idaho skies.

  A couple of men wearing formal navy uniforms nodded politely to her as they passed. What would Mark look like in his dress blues? So far she’d only glimpsed him in his olive flight suit, but his mouthwatering, muscular body did that uniform all kinds of good.

  Desire rose, warm and pulsing between her thighs, and she forced her mind off how incredibly aroused and sexually frustrated he’d made her the day before. If not for his rejection, she would have slept with him. The man she’d once blamed for her brother’s death.

  Could she have lived with that?

  Yes, came the immediate answer as she rounded a corner, pulled open a glass-paned door and strode to an empty counter. She dinged the bell and waited, leaning against the rounded edge, sliding one aching toe out of her shoe then the other.

  She admired Mark. He’d done everything he could to save her brother.

  Had he put the brakes on sex out of guilt? Denied them pleasure as a form of penance?

  If so, she needed to get through to him. Make him see that he couldn’t control everything, including Jeff’s fate.

  A young woman appeared wearing a light blue shirt tucked into navy pants. Trops, she’d heard this less formal uniform called. She handed the clerk the slip Captain Vogt had given her and returned the woman’s smile. Alone again, she arched her back and straightened her shoulder slump. Her break ended soon and she needed to reboot for the second half of her shift...and what promised to be a busy night this evening as the Red Cross put on a large-scale supply giveaway to avoid stockpiling in the already crowded hospital unit. And, of course, that would be followed by an action-packed day tomorrow.

  Flying with Mark would help her get to know the brooding pilot better. Maybe even pursue a relationship with him—if only temporarily. Based on his reaction yesterday, however, she knew it’d be difficult convincing him.

  Not that taking the easy path was her style anymore...

  She thrived on this relief mission’s challenges and a part of her wanted to live life to the fullest the way Jeff had advised. Flying with his old crew would give her a closer perspective on her brother’s world and the risks he’d taken.

  And maybe, finally, she’d gain the closure she needed to feel at peace again when she returned to her old life. Funny how small that life looked from this distance.

  Five minutes later, Cassie hurried from the supply area, a flight suit draped across her arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  She pulled up short at the familiar, commanding voice and turned.

  In a gray muscle shirt and black gym shorts, Mark was a ripped, lean machine. She couldn’t help admiring his large deltoids and the tantalizing outline of his six-pack abs through the thin fabric. Defined thigh muscles shifted and bulged as he strode forward, closing the distance between them.

  He jerked to a stop and crossed his arms, giving her an eyeful of corded biceps. When she stared into his piercing gold eyes, her body hummed with a sexual rush.

  Another man cleared his throat and she spared a quick glance at Mark’s companion from the other night. Dylan.

  “I’ll wait outside.” The other large, muscle-bound man shot Mark a considering look before heading down the hallway.

  She extended the arm holding the flight suit. “I’m filling in for your injured flight medic, John, until a new AST3 arrives. I treated him this morning and heard you needed a replacement.”

  “No.” Mark’s nostrils flared and a muscle jumped in his square jaw, his expression thunderous.

  “Captain Vogt just approved it. He’s calling your command boss now.” Despite the angry sparks shooting from his eyes, she stepped forward. Guilt made her want to take back her request given how awful Mark felt about Jeff’s death. It was asking a lot from him to fly with her. Yet she had to persevere and take this final step into Jeff’s—and Mark’s—world to gain the understanding she needed to put the loss behind her. “I want to fly with Jeff’s crew.”

  Mark opened his mouth then shut it when a couple of service personnel passed by, their conversation fading as they shot each other speculative glances.

  “Follow me,” he ordered then turned sharply on his heel and tramped down the hall to a large walk-in storage area.

  When he reached around to shut the door behind her, her heart rate tripled at his nearness.

  “I’m not letting you fly on any missions,” he bit out, his lion’s gaze raking over her.

  “It’s not your choice to make.” She crossed her arms and widened her stance. Sympathy for Mark fired through her, but maybe if she could find the right words, explain to him why this was important, he’d understand...

  He arched a brow, his expression so arrogant she didn’t know if she wanted to smack him or kiss him. “It’s my aircraft.”

  “It’s Captain Vogt’s call.” She edged closer until they stood toe to toe. The spicy, masculine scent of him rose around them and she breathed deep.

  His eyes traveled slowly fr
om her mouth to her feet then back up again, looking her over with such intensity that Cassie’s toes curled. “It’s not safe,” he insisted, though a note of hoarseness had entered his voice.

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “You should be,” he burst out. “Besides, my rescue swimmers are already Level 1 EMTs. I’ve seen you do CPR but I need someone with more specific skills.”

  “In addition to being a registered nurse,” she spouted quickly, hoping to impress him, “I’m also flight nurse registered, an intravenous certified specialist, an advanced burn life support provider, cardiac-vascular nursing certified and wound care certified.” She angled her chin and met his eye.

  Mark raised an eyebrow. “And you did all this in Horseshoe Bend, Idaho?”

  Hearing her hometown come out of his mouth took her aback until she remembered. He would know it because of Jeff. “It’s not the back of beyond,” she defended, though it felt like it at times...

  Had the claustrophobia she’d felt in the small town driven her to commute to Boise and continue her professional development? Working for her father and living at home left her restless and craving a purpose. Those classes and credentials helped, even though she’d never thought she’d use them until now.

  He placed a hand on the door behind her head and leaned in, eyes glittering. “But you don’t have real-life emergency flight experience.”

  She ducked under his arm and strode farther into the walk-in closet. “So give it to me. I’ll prove you wrong.”

  He whirled and closed the distance between them again, his jaw clenched. “I’m not taking that chance. You’re my responsibility and I want you here, where you’re safe.”

  Her sharp intake of breath reverberated in the stillness. How many times had she heard those words from her oppressive mother growing up? Believed them?

  Jeff the brave.

  Cassie the meek.

  She used to think she wasn’t like Jeff. Couldn’t grab the world and ride its orbit as it spun. But now...now she wondered if her mother’s worries stemmed from nearly losing Cassie thanks to her premature birth. Not a weakness in Cassie, exactly.

  As for Mark, his lack of faith stung, too. He needed to see her bolder side. She didn’t want to wear the yoke of others’ fears any longer and would prove just how daring she could be.

  Setting the flight suit aside on a shelf, she placed her hand on his hard abdomen, feeling the muscular ridges contract beneath her fingers. “I understand you’re worried after what happened to Jeff—”

  “Anything can happen out there,” he cut her off. “I’m not putting you at risk.” Air separated his words, as if he struggled to breathe.

  With him this close, her lungs weren’t working well, either. “I trust you,” she whispered and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

  He caught her wrists in one hand. “Stop it, Cassie,” he demanded, though his eyes were liquid want, heavy with longing. The sexual tension between them grew electric, crackling with its own magnetic pull. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Because I want to feel close to Jeff. I need to put myself back together by honoring his life,” she cried, yanking loose. “Flying with you, performing his missions, will give me that chance.”

  Mark ran the back of his knuckles down the side of her cheek, and she ached at the pain in his eyes.

  “I’m doing the same thing,” he admitted, sinking his eyes deeply into hers. “Every successful mission I fly here, every rescue I make, is helping me accept what happened. I—I grounded myself after we lost Jeff. I was in a bad place.”

  He dropped his hand and averted his gaze before continuing. “I was out of the cockpit for six months, talking to doctors, talking to therapists, talking, talking, talking until they believed I could fly again...only once this disaster mission came up, and memories of Jeff hit me hard, I stopped being convinced. I replay that hoist accident every single day. What if I’d moved left versus right? What if I’d instructed the flight mechanic to watch for rogue waves? What if I’d been five feet lower? What if? What if?”

  “And then I showed up,” she murmured, fully understanding now just how hard it must have been for him to see her at this all-important moment, when he needed to prove to himself, once and for all, that he had moved past Jeff’s loss. “I get it.”

  Mark rubbed his eyes, hard. “Our night on the beach was perfect. Exactly what I needed to stop the replay button.”

  A short laugh escaped her. “That’s how I felt. I might not have made it onto the helicopter if not for you. Now I’m ready for the next step.”

  “You’re still going tomorrow.” His eyes swerved to hers, sharp and intent.

  She jerked back, stung. “I thought you understood.”

  “I thought you understood,” he insisted, his voice strained, as if he’d been sucker punched. “I can’t focus with you on board. Why are you pushing me into a position that’s going to cloud my judgment in the air?”

  “Because I can’t have closure unless I go.”

  “So your mind’s made up.” At her nod, he turned and her chest constricted at the pained, grim expression on his face. How she wished this could be different. That they were on the same side, holding each other as they had on the beach.

  “Mark, please. Understand—” she began, faltering, trying to find the words to convince him, panicked that she hadn’t. When Mark reached the door, he spoke with his face averted, his shoulders high and tense.

  “No, Cassie. I don’t,” he snapped, his tone bitter. “As the commander of Jayhawk copter 6039, I have the final say. You will not fly on my aircraft. Period.”

  The door clicked shut behind him and her last glimpse of Mark’s tormented expression curled her insides. She dropped her head into her hands and shook, struggling to regain the confidence that’d been slowly building since she’d arrived on Saint Thomas.

  Mark, of all people, should understand how important flying in Jeff’s aircraft would be to her. After everything they’d been through, how could he care so little about what she needed?

  She stood there for a moment then brushed off her pants and jerked open the door, head high.

  No matter what, she’d ride on their next mission.

  * * *

  FORTY MINUTES LATER, Mark dropped to a squat on the tarmac, winded. The pavement was a warm pulse beneath his palms as he kicked his feet back again, executed two more push-ups, brought his feet back to his hands and leaped for the sky, the last move in this latest eight-count burpee. Gripping the back end of a door-less club car, a man-size military vehicle issued on these missions, he rolled it fifty yards across the resort’s empty back parking lot toward Dylan. The slow, sweet pull of his muscles felt good after spending so much time cramped in a cockpit. They’d been relieved early today and he’d been looking forward to this hard-driving workout...until he’d spotted Cassie with a flight suit.

  “That all you got?” jeered the cocky swimmer. He stopped the automobile’s roll, plunged to the ground, fired off one-armed push-ups before jumping as high as the car roof. With his cropped curls lying flat against his head, Dylan reminded Mark of one of those Roman soldiers he’d watched in movies or played in video games. His Herculean proportions only furthered the effect.

  “Didn’t want to embarrass you,” Mark called, his lungs afire. While Dylan worked through his set, Mark struggled to catch his breath. He dragged the hurricane-scrubbed fresh air into his lungs, the temperature almost ten degrees cooler than normal now that a low-pressure system had pulled the storm a bit farther north where it squatted over the Atlantic. It moved eastward at fifteen nautical miles per hour, the slow pace building its intensity.

  His insides brewed along with it.

  Why was Cassie so intent on joining his crew? He’d explained more to her than he’d even fully
explained to himself, yet she acted as though none of that mattered, as if he didn’t matter.

  “Incoming.” With a grunt, Dylan shoved the club car back at Mark. “How many more you got in you?”

  “More than you,” Mark shot back and halted the vehicle. Swimmers. Always so damn competitive. Though he needed to be pushed today...even more than he’d thought when he’d sought out Dylan earlier.

  Sweat dripped in his eyes as he dropped to the ground again. Getting through to Cassie looked less difficult than it had. He needed to change her mind.

  His breath rasped in his throat as he added more push-ups to his set. He shoved the car back at Dylan, who, annoyingly, had been doing crunches during his downtime. Did these rescue athletes ever quit?

  Mark held his aching sides and bent at the waist. His late-afternoon shadow angled to his left and ran up the bark of a ragged palm tree. The only sounds were the birdsong, the gentle murmur of the breeze through the trees and the distant lapping of low tide.

  An exclamation of air escaped through his gritted teeth. Maybe all she wanted from him was sex.

  A lizard skittered in front of him then clambered across a slanted tree trunk ahead of the returning club car.

  He needed this exercise more than ever, his pent-up sexual energy at an all-time high.

  It shouldn’t bug him if Cassie saw him only in terms of sex. What man didn’t want to be objectified? But it didn’t sit right, damn it. She’d slipped past his defenses and now he couldn’t shake her loose.

  “That was a twelve-count,” Dylan catcalled, his voice as fresh as when they’d started.

  “Amateur hour.” Mark ignored his protesting muscles and whipped himself through an extra cycle. “Top that.”

  The club car kicked up a pebble when he thrust it away again, his arms shaking.

  “I’m just getting started.” Dylan’s lip curled.

  Mark grabbed his water bottle from his calf holder, gulped down a mouthful then doused his burning head for good measure. When he tossed the empty container at a receptacle, a couple of gulls squawked and flapped before settling to roost atop stone pavers.