RHONDA LEE CARVER
Protector of Novah
(Book 1, Valor Knights)
Copyright © 2020 by Rhonda Lee Carver
www.rhondaleecarver.com
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Cover art: Rhonda Lee Carver
Edits: Sara Miller
Formatting: Todd Tinker
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Acknowledgements:
Thank you, beta readers. I can’t say thank you enough for all your help. You always pull through, even in last minute projects.
Thank you, sharing team. You are a tremendous help!
BLURB
Novah needs his protection...but she needs his heart more.
Paradise turned into a nightmare when Novah Coffman learned that she would be spending the weekend on a private resort with her ex-husband. They shared a daughter together, but she gave up on him a long time ago…and then unexpected sparks fly poolside. Was it the sunshine and fresh air that made her woozy or was it that he was hotter with age?
Egan Banks had a job to do and it wasn’t sampling the tempting curves of his ex-wife, although he wouldn’t mind one bit. When she sent her wicked smile his way, that was all the invitation he needed to get wrapped up in her sweet heaven again.
Then she uncovered a dangerous plot that involved her boss who was running for public office. Her life was on the line and Egan vowed he’d protect her at all costs, but in the end he could be the one who needed protection from another broken heart.
Table of Contents
Front Matter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Back Matter
Bonus – Wanted by the Lawman (Lawmen of Wyoming #2) Chapter 1 & 2
CHAPTER ONE
A TINY TOE being shoved up inside of her nostril was her wake up call.
Novah Coffman removed the intrusion and tenderly patted her three-year-old’s tiny foot.
For the last three months, Finley had been climbing into bed with Novah. The little girl swore there was a three-eyed, green-skinned monster that had taken up residence under her bed. After an amateur exorcism of singing “If You’re Happy and You Know it” and new decorations in a princess theme, Novah had thought the “green monster” had finally went on to be with his people, but apparently the invisible visitor had returned.
What was Finley doing here?
She was supposed to be with her grandma.
Novah rubbed her tired eyes and glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. Seven-ten. Way too early to be up on a Saturday morning. Perks of mom life.
Lifting her arms high above her head, she stretched, consumed in the remnants of the dream that had felt so real. Smiling, she breathed in deeply, startled by the familiar scent of sandalwood and leather that belonged to only one man.
Her body stilled. Her heart palpitated. An internal alarm sounded.
Oh no!
No! No! No!
Flicking one eye open, she shifted enough to see Finley who was stretched out sideways, her legs thrown up over Novah’s chest and her thumb stuck in her mouth.
Relief swept over Novah.
She would have been mortified if she’d had a booty call with—
A husky, lazy moan invaded the silence of the bedroom.
The springs in the bed popped and rattled and a tug came on the sheet.
Cringing, she removed Finley’s legs and sat up, saying a silent prayer that she didn’t fall off the wagon with tall, dark and handsome last night.
Oh hell!
What had she done?
Every detail came exploding back to her—in vivid detail. A bottle of Patron. A slow dance or two…or three. A ride home so she didn’t have to call an Uber…
Laying on the far edge of the king size bed, wearing no shirt and showing off an amazingly toned and fit torso, was the very man she swore she’d never see again. Swore the bedroom was off limits no matter how lonely she became.
His smooth, barrel-chest lifted and deflated evenly as he slept. Soft snores came from underneath the pillow he’d pulled over his head, a habit from being in the military and sleeping in unsavory conditions. The wrinkled corner of the sheet tossed over his hips didn’t erase the explicit memory of his hard length and how many times he’d taken her after they walked through the door last night.
Following his long legs splattered in crisp, dark hair, to his size fifteen feet that were hung over the footboard, she stifled a grin. At six foot three, and two hundred pounds of lean, solid muscle, he had a hard time finding a bed that “fit” him.
Swallowing a heavy dose of reality, she finally worked up enough courage to reach over and lightly tap his shoulder. He didn’t budge, although a loud snore of defiance resounded from deep inside his chest.
“Psst.” She poked him right in the center of his chest. Taking in the number of scars and marks that riddled his body—a roadmap of a story belonging to the man who’d fought in the War on Terror, the Libyan Crisis and many others since enlisted as a bomb specialist in the Marines—she felt a sickening feeling open up in the pit of her stomach.
“Hey, wake up!” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Finley which would lead to a messy situation that Novah wasn’t prepared to handle, especially with a migraine starting to pound at her temples with a hear
tbeat all its own.
He rolled over, sending the pillow off his face. One lid opened. “What?” At first, he looked disoriented, then finally a sleepy grin curved the corners of his full, kissable lips. Running a hand over his classic taper and down along his thin layer of whiskers, his storm-blue eyes captured her in an invisible embrace. His dimples intensified, targeting her chafed inner thighs. “Good morning,” came the guttural greeting.
Novah squeezed her trembling legs and pointed at the sleeping child who had her head nestled in his armpit.
His brows lifted in surprise, but he quickly recovered. “What’s she doing in bed with us? I thought you said she was staying the night with your mother?” He wiped the remaining sleep from his eyes and pushed up onto one elbow.
It should be illegal for someone to wake up looking as good as he did.
With an aggravated moan, Novah slid out of bed, grateful she had donned a long T-shirt last night and pulled on the knee-length robe from the chair in the corner giving her more layers as if it could hide the turmoil in her body.
“Get up, Egan,” she urged quietly. He made a good point, she’d have to ask her mother why Finley was here, but the more pressing situation was that she needed to get tall, dark, and off limits on his way before things took an entirely different direction than just a relapse of her sanity. She knew better than to drink a few shots around Egan because she always lost sight of reality. It hadn’t helped that she’d been feeling a little lonely when she’d chased him down at his family’s bar where they’d once shared a lot of good times. They’d even had their reception there and every anniversary, until the last.
Seeing that he wasn’t moving, she tapped her wrist to remind him of the time. “I mean it. Get up.”
“You didn’t answer me. Why is she in our bed?” He was still braced on his elbow, his large bicep flexed, looking like a bronzed anaconda. If only she could be near him without feeling an overwhelming sense of longing.
“It’s not ‘our’ bed any longer.”
He sat up straight and rubbed his forehead. He’d always kept his hair cut regulation short, which showed off his chiseled cheekbones and square jawline, giving him a warrior-like appearance. His twinkling eyes and charming smile were what had attracted her to him first five years ago, and then she got to know his gentle heart and warm touch that shouldn’t belong to a man of his caliber—a man who hunted dangerous enemies and disposed of chemical and nuclear hazards like they were yesterday’s trash. His rugged presence intimidated some, and he hadn’t always been in touch with his communication skills, but she’d known a warmer side to him that had given her a feeling of safety and security, even when her entire world was turning upside down.
Finley stirred, but didn’t wake up. She looked so peaceful that it ripped through Novah. “She’s been having bad dreams.” Turning to stare at the vanity mirror, she groaned at the haggard reflection she saw. Her hair was tousled. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. And her pale skin needed a dose of good ol’ vitamin C. The tequila shots had kicked her butt. She was a lightweight and had made an awfully bad decision. Alcohol wasn’t an excuse though, not when she’d been as sober as a church mouse when they walked through the door. When they’d first moved to the small two-bedroom house on Hickory Street, they’d christened every room, and last night, they’d rekindled those days when they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
Sex had never been the issue…
Glancing at her bed partner through the oval mirror, who still had his flecked gaze locked on her, she felt her nipples tighten. No, she wouldn’t sink back into that virile web again.
Why wasn’t he getting out of bed? Didn’t he see how complicated this situation was? He never did stress about anything and that irritated her.
“Why is she having bad dreams?”
“I don’t know, Egan. Let’s see, her dad is gone for long periods of time and her mother has to come up with excuses for his absence.” She followed the trail of his clothes on the floor, picking them up on her way to his side of the bed, tossing the heap into his bare chest. “Now get up!”
“Her dad isn’t AWOL,” he growled, holding the pile of clothes awkwardly. “Remember who chose to be single?” His harsh gaze sent acid burning through her veins.
“I’m not navigating that particular mine field again.” She swiveled on her bare feet and marched out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen where she started a much-needed pot of strong coffee. While she rummaged through the cabinet for pain medicine, she heard Egan’s heavy footsteps as he barreled toward the kitchen and crossed the threshold into the too-small space. Finding the bottle she was looking for, she shook two pills into her palm and turned. The tablets slipped from her hand and pinged across the floor. Her breath caught somewhere between enjoyment and shock at the sight of him. He was naked as the day he’d been born, holding the clothes against his stomach. Even flaccid the man was still bigger than most men erect—and much more confident. He always found a way to unravel her and he’d found the loose thread.
Getting down on her hands and knees, she searched for the lost pills. She found one under the edge of the stove, blew off the dust, then felt a wave of dizziness as she stood.
“I know something that can take away the hangover.” His eyes twinkled with mischief and more than a little desire.
“Didn’t you see Mom sleeping on the couch? Put some clothes on before you give her a heart attack.”
And before you make me forget why I can’t have you.
“I wasn’t looking for your mom.”
He shifted and she tore her gaze off his body. Resisting the urge to squirm, her chafed and throbbing parts reminded her she hadn’t seen him, nude or otherwise, in a year. It was as if she’d been on a diet and decided to eat an entire buffet of dessert in one night. “Can you please get dressed,” she pleaded then concentrated on taking down her favorite cup from the glass cabinet.
“I could use a cup too. Black with a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk, none of that almond stuff, of course you already know what I like.” There was a noticeable teasing lilt in his tone.
“Then be sure to tell that to the person behind the counter at Dunkin’.” She swallowed the pill with a sip of coffee and was glad that by the time she turned with her cup clasped between her shaky palms that he had his jeans on. She blew through the steam, her gaze naturally gravitating to his crotch that he’d inadvertently left unzipped.
“Come on, Novah. How can you be in a bad mood after last night?” His wicked smile reminded her how good last night was—just how many times she’d succumbed to pleasure.
Her favorite position was when he’d pressed her over the dresser. There was just something erotic about watching through the mirror, their slick, naked bodies together as he took her fast and hard. No denying that she’d enjoyed herself immensely, but with the sunlight came the cold-hard reality crashing in. They were like oil and water. Light and darkness. Good and bad.
“How can I be in a bad mood? Maybe because last night became morning. You were supposed to leave, remember?”
“I fell asleep, and so did you.” He swiped his palm down his dissatisfied expression. He looked tired which tweaked her concern. Out of habit she started to ask how he’d been sleeping, but she couldn’t allow herself to open up to those avenues again, not when she’d finally managed to close a few of them.
“This doesn’t change anything, Egan.” She set her cup aside, suddenly not needing it. “I didn’t come into the bar last night looking for this—looking to shoot back a few shots of tequila and take a stroll down memory lane. I agree, I lost myself for a minute with the slow songs, laughing over lame jokes, seeing old family and friends.” She and his family had always been close. “The familiar feelings of the past were uncovered, but I’ve worked so hard to stand on my own two feet. To find a rhythm of existence.”
“And I’ve never encouraged you to be independent?” His eyes burned with the remnants of the issues t
hat had torn them apart.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” She squeezed her eyes shut long enough to gather her emotions. “Egan, what we had…it fizzled out. Last night, well, we should think of what we shared as closure.” Those words felt like acid on her tongue. She leaned into the edge of the counter for support.
“Oh? Just remember who made the move last night, sweetheart. For someone looking for closure it sure as hell felt more like hello.” The low tone of his words made her tremble. “You could have just called me.”
“I couldn’t have you sign these over the phone.” Stepping over to her purse sitting on the butcher’s block island, she took out the envelope and slid it across the table. “These need your signature.”
He stared for a good three heartbeats before he picked up the envelope, his gaze dripping with frost. His jaw was noticeably tight under the day-old layer of peppered whiskers and his lips thinned. “Signature?”
“Divorce papers.”
“A divorce? Is that really what you want?” His tone matched his stare.
“You knew this was coming.” Exhaling, she pushed a pen toward him. “We’ve been separated for a year now. The same reasons why we gave up on our marriage are still a problem. We’re not doing anyone, especially Finley, any favors by prolonging the inevitable.” A wave of sadness rolled through her, unlike what she’d expected. She knew this wouldn’t be easy, but she thought she was in a stronger place. She wavered between wanting to end the pain and wanting to walk into his strong arms and give in to temptation. But then what?
When she’d met him, he’d swept her off her feet like a tornado and she’d been too moonstruck to see the dangers that lurked ahead. For six weeks she’d been caught up in some heaven-like trance so when he asked her to marry him, she’d said “yes” without a sliver of hesitation. He’d never lied about or sugar-coated his strenuous career in the military. He’d been frank about being deployed for weeks at a time while his unit went on secret missions. Sometimes ones that were so confidential that they couldn’t tell their spouses anything, not even when they’d be returning. At first, she’d been caught up in the pride of having a husband who was wanting to change the world. Her pride for him had never changed, but her need for his presence had. She thought she could handle being a military wife, accepting that he’d disappear after receiving a vague phone call and then the waiting game would begin until he finally came home, sometimes weeks later, sometimes a month later. She’d been mistaken about her resilience.
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