by Lucy Ryder
Cursing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her roughly against him. The feel of her body, warm and soft against his, had him sucking in his own sharp breath. Putting his hands on her hadn’t been part of his plan.
But this pale and terrifyingly fragile woman tugged at something buried so deep he’d forgotten it was there. Something he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“C’mon,” he muttered wearily. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I can get myself home, Commander Big Shot,” she announced, but her bold statement was ruined when it emerged all slurred and weary. It must have annoyed her because she planted her palms against his chest and shoved. “I’m fine,” she grunted, when her efforts failed to move him. “Especially as I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now, thank you very much.”
“That’s Lieutenant Commander Big Shot,” he corrected mildly, allowing her some space but snagging her arm when she tried to stomp off in the opposite direction. He tugged her toward his brand-new four-by-four. “And it’s not you I’m worried about, wild thing. It’s the other poor saps on the road. Your driving is enough to scare even the most seasoned speedster.”
“Hey,” she protested, stumbling into a parked car before he could steer her out of the way. “I’m an excellent driver. You should know. You and Jack taught me.”
At the mention of Jack, they both seemed to freeze because the last time he’d tried to talk to her about her brother, she’d kind of freaked out. He’d wanted to tell her how much Jack had meant to him—of the promise he’d made to look out for her—but Frankie hadn’t wanted to listen. She clearly didn’t want to talk now either because her expressive face abruptly closed down.
It had been more than five years and Nate still missed Jack, especially being back in Port St. John’s.
Injecting as much normality and humor into his tone as he could, he said, “That’s why I know you suck. Maybe you should get a siren installed.” He pulled her upright and was relieved when she allowed him to steer her to the driver’s side. “That way people will know to get out of your way. Besides, I’m surprised that piece of junk you drive hasn’t fallen apart.”
“Hey,” she objected again, this time more strongly. “Just because it doesn’t fit your lofty idea of perfection it doesn’t mean it’s ready for the scrap heap, Mr. Everything-is-Better-Newer-and-Shinier. It’s just like you to be—”
She stopped abruptly when she realized she wasn’t at the passenger side. After a couple of blinks, a slow smile tugged at her full lips and she flashed an upward gaze. For the first time he realized that her smile was wonky and her eyes were a little glazed.
Great. She was as high as a kite.
“You’re letting me drive?”
His snort was enough to bring back her scowl. “You’re no fun,” she accused sulkily, and in the abrupt silence that followed he heard her suck in a sharp breath.
It was the same accusation she’d flung at him the night of her eighteenth birthday. The night she’d pretended to drown in the surf when she’d been an excellent swimmer. The night he’d lost his temper when he’d realized she’d done it to get his attention.
It was also the night he’d realized that a grown-up Frankie—with all the curves of blossoming womanhood—was more dangerous to his mind and body than a whole mountainside of terrorists with their crosshairs on his center mass.
“Get in, Francis,” he murmured dryly, disengaging the locks and opening the door. “I drive.”
“You’re still bossy and annoying,” she muttered beneath her breath as she gingerly climbed into the cab. “And if I wasn’t so tired, I’d tell you that you’re not the boss of me.”
His lips twisted wryly. “Of course you would. Get in, woman, before my patience runs out and I toss you into the harbor.”
She uttered a soft snort and lurched over the gearshift, giving him an eyeful of her curvy bottom. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t because, in spite of everything, a grown-up Frankie would tempt a saint.
“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered grumpily, and Nate’s amusement faded. None of this was funny, least of all the sight of her pale, exhausted face. Knowing he was partly to blame made his chest ache.
He pulled himself into the cab and shoved the key in the ignition, studying her out the corner of his eye.
“You okay?”
Her soft snort was accompanied with a dry “Peachy,” drawing a long-suffering sigh from Nate. The skinny girl with wild red hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose and a wide contagious smile had turned into a stunning woman.
But the joyful sparkle in her clear green eyes had been replaced by shadows and secrets. Secrets she was keeping from him.
Nate shook his head at himself and started the engine. He shoved the gearstick into reverse and with quick economical moves backed out of the parking and headed for the exit.
At this time of the night it was a quiet drive across town to the little bungalow she called home and he waited until he turned into her driveway before saying, “You ready to talk, Red?”
Out the corner of his eye he saw her go still and it took him a couple of seconds to realize the old nickname he’d given her when she was ten had slipped out without thinking. Maybe it had been the mention of Jack, as though they were still all young, and alive…and together.
Her lush mouth firmed and she turned to face him, gaze unreadable when she’d always been an open book. To him at least.
“About what? I thought we’d settled the issue of me driving in a drug-induced state when I allowed you to shanghai me?”
“It’s about your reckless behavior.”
“Reckless? Hardly,” she snorted, gathering up her shoulder bag and reaching for the door handle. “I was just going to drive home, for God’s sake. Not take a joyride through town and along the coast. Besides, I surrendered to your bossy manhandling, didn’t I?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Francis,” he said wearily. “I’m talking about what you did on the mountain.”
“I don’t know what your problem is,” she half snarled, lurching upright in her seat as though preparing for a fight. “It’s not like I was the one without a safety line. You were,” she pointed out shortly. “I’m not the one who thinks she’s a big, bad indestructible SEAL too cool to die.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I’m not indestructible. What gave you that idea?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she tossed over her shoulder as she reached again for the door handle and shoved the door open. “Maybe this insatiable need you have to be a damn hero.”
She hopped out before he could answer and slammed the door with way more force than necessary before stomping her way up the garden path.
Muttering curses, Nate got out and followed, wondering what he thought he was doing. This was exactly why he needed to keep his distance, because five minutes in her company and he was ready to howl with frustration.
Taking the stairs three at a time, he moved beneath the light to where she was digging in her shoulder bag for her keys. Without looking up, she snarled irritably, “Go away. I’m not in the mood for any of your annoying lectures.”
Controlling himself with difficulty, he said mildly, “Humor me,” and folded his arms across his chest. Propped against the wall, he studied her pale face in the glow of the overhead porch light. “You owe me that at least.”
“Excuse me? I owe you?” She gaped up at him for a couple of beats before a scoffing laugh escaped. “I think you have that backward, Commander Big Shot,” she drawled. “The way I remember it, bub,” she said, poking his abs with a hard finger, “you were on your way over that cliff when I saved you.”
He grabbed her hand before she could drill a hole in his chest, tightening his grip when she tried to snatch it back. Her growl of frustration had his brow arching with amusement.
“Exactly,” he said with masculine superiority, knowing it would get a reaction out of her. Besides, why sho
uld he be the only one with escalating blood pressure? “You seem to forget how well I know you, Francis,” he said quietly. “That daring leap off the ledge was impulsive. You never gave a thought to that safety line and you know it.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Nathan,” she snapped, and pulled free. “You just think you do. You left here when I was a girl to go off to prove what a big badass you were. What’s more reckless than that? Besides, I’m not that adoring little kid you once knew, and even if what you say is true—and it’s not,” she snapped, jabbing the air with her keys, “you’re lucky I did make that leap, or you’d be whipping poor soldier angels into shape instead of standing here now, annoying me.”
It wasn’t in the least bit amusing. He sighed. “Frankie—”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice hitched. “I wasn’t thinking.” She was quiet a moment before adding, “I meant you’d be stomping around in hell with your size thirteen boots, trying to save lost souls. Isn’t that what you always do, Lieutenant Commander? Save lost souls?” She drew in a deep breath as though that brief flash of fire had exhausted her. “I’m not a lost soul,” she said flatly, shoving a shaky hand through her hair as she leaned back against the door to study him through drooping lids. “I never was. Only you could never see that.”
“Have you forgotten I how many times I saved your skin over the years?” he demanded tersely, recalling how they’d all—he, Jack and Ty—tried to make up for Frankie’s parents’ disinterest in their daughter, only to have her run circles around them.
She closed her eyes and wearily pushed herself upright, ramming her elbow into his gut when she turned to shove the key into the lock. “I don’t need saving, Nate,” she muttered. “I can save myself. And even if I did need a savior, it wouldn’t be you.”
Her words burrowed beneath his skin. “I get that,” he growled furiously, because that’s what she had wanted once. “But what you did last night was reckless.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, stud,” she dismissed coolly, pushing the door open before pausing with one foot inside. “I would have done it for anyone. You’re just mad because I beat you to it. Mad that the badass Navy SEAL got rescued by a girl.”
“Don’t make this about me, Frankie,” Nate said irritably, ignoring her accusation because what she’d said was ridiculous. Besides, he was the trained professional. It was his job to save people.
“Why not?” she shot back heatedly. “It’s not like I was alone on that ledge. It’s not like I was just going to—” She stopped abruptly and sucked in a sharp breath, turning away.
“It’s not like you were just going to what, Frankie?” Nate demanded. “Use your head? Think before you acted? Because that’s your usual MO, isn’t it? Wade into the fray and damn the consequences?”
The look she sent over her shoulder was filled with hurt and fury. “You know what? Never mind. You brought me home. Thanks.” She turned away as though she couldn’t bear the sight of him. “You can leave. You’re good at that.”
He caught her arm. “Excuse me?”
She tried to yank her arm free but he tightened his grip, not wanting her to disappear inside where she’d no doubt continue to ignore him. “If I have to tell you,” she drawled smartly, “you’re not half as smart as I thought you were.”
“And you, babe?” he growled. “How smart are you?”
She froze, her fiery green eyes turning arctic as she glared up at him. “Tell me you did not just call me ‘babe’.” Her mouth curled in distaste. “Take it back and I might consider letting you live.”
It was such a Frankie thing to say that Nate couldn’t help the low laugh that escaped him. It was clearly the wrong thing to do because she sucked in a furious breath and punched him.
She tried to punch him again but Nate was expecting it and reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, wrapping his hand around her much smaller fist and yanking her against him.
Dark satisfaction filled him when a shocked squeak emerged from between her parted lips. “You only get one shot, babe,” he warned silkily, staring into eyes gone dark with surprise.
*
Infuriated by his warning, by the name he’d used on her when it was what he called all his other women, his laughter—heck, all of the above—Frankie stared up into his hard, handsome face, and with her free hand punched him again. Harder.
Her fist practically bounced off his steel-hard abs and before she could growl her frustration he’d backed her against the wall, both wrists imprisoned in his inescapable grip. She ignored the slight discomfort in her back, furious with the easy way he pinned her hands beside her head.
Her startled protest was interrupted by a low, rough curse that ended on, “You just had to, didn’t you?” And then he did something that shocked her even more. He swooped in and slammed his mouth down on hers.
Frankie went utterly still, shock reverberating through her. To be perfectly honest, she’d been hoping to get a reaction from him, but she’d never expected him to…to… Oh, boy.
The next instant she thought, How dare he kiss me? and tried to bite him, but he broke the kiss, his breathing furious and choppy in the predawn silence. As though he was restraining himself from throttling her. With a great deal of effort.
Yeah, well, she was restraining herself too. From melting into a puddle at his feet. But there was no way she would ever admit it. Even on threat of dismemberment.
“You little hellion,” he rasped against her lips, and roughly took her mouth again. This time the kiss lasted longer than those first furious seconds and, completely against her will, Frankie found herself kissing him back. Tentatively at first and then… Wow.
The man certainly knew his way around a woman’s mouth. Knew exactly how to use his lips to drive her crazy with hard punishing kisses one minute and soft deep caresses the next.
He was warm and solid against her, radiating heat and the kind of strength she needed to keep her knees from wobbling and dumping her at his feet. Was, in fact, keeping her upright with his big hard body.
Someone moaned—she was pretty sure it was her—the sound so breathy and needy she might have cringed if she’d had the capacity to do anything more than respond, feel and…oh, God…make another muffled sound in the back of her throat. Every thought, every protest was stripped away—along with her resistance.
The instant her mouth softened against his, he broke away, drawing back far enough to mutter a string of curses. Even before she managed to fill her lungs, Frankie’s first thought was, What the heck just happened?
She finally sucked in air and opened her eyes, her body absorbing the hard press and heat of his, her mind struggling with the fact that he’d…that he’d…
“Wha—” she croaked, then snapped her mouth shut before any more embarrassing sounds emerged and he realized that she was speechless. That the woman who usually had an answer for everything had been rendered speechless by a kiss.
By Nate’s kiss.
With a low muttered curse, Nate pushed away from the wall and turned, impatiently thrusting a hand through his mussed hair as he headed for the porch stairs.
“Go inside, Frankie,” he ordered, his voice low and intense, sounding unbearably weary.
Feeling her hackles rise at his bossy tone, the easy way he always seemed to dismiss her, the way the kiss appeared not to have affected him when it had practically floored her, all seemed to crash in on her at once.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, mortified to discover that her voice shook almost as much as her knees.
With his back toward her, Nate shoved his hands in his pockets and sent her a hooded glance across his shoulder. His face was a study of light and shadows—just like the man himself—and the side of his mouth lit by the porch light twitched at the corner.
“If you don’t know,” he drawled dryly, “then you’re not half as smart I thought you were.”
It took a couple of moments for Frankie to realize he’d used her earlier w
ords against her but before she could respond, he had walked away and was pulling open his truck door.
He paused to stare at her across the distance and with a low “Do everyone a favor, Francis. Stay out of trouble,” he slid inside and started the engine, leaving Frankie spluttering as his taillights disappeared into the predawn light.
CHAPTER FOUR
FRANKIE HAD BEEN asleep for what felt like mere seconds when she was awakened by banging on her front door. For a moment she thought she’d overslept and jerked upright to stare wide-eyed at her bedside clock.
Twelve fourteen? That couldn’t be right, could it? Had her clock stopped during the night?
Her heart pounded a furious drumbeat in her ears and she struggled to remember what day it was. But when her body strongly objected to the sudden move, memory returned in a rush and she sank back into her pillows with a groan.
She’d barely managed to get any sleep, having been awakened several times by confusing dreams that had left her shaking like a leaf one moment and burning up the next. She was tired, achy and needed her sleep or someone was going to pay. Big time.
She carefully found a comfortable spot and was just drifting off when—Bang, bang, bang.
“Seriously?” she snarled, throwing back the covers and easing her stiff body off the bed. Her legs felt like cooked noodles and about as useful.
With a muttered curse about the dire consequences to the idiot on her doorstep, she stomped—fine, shuffled—down the stairs, wincing and cursing when every step practically vibrated up her spine into her head.
Sheesh. She felt like she’d rolled down the mountain, hitting every rock on the way or…or spent an entire weekend on a bender. But she was way past the bender stage and no longer did stupid things.
Correction: she mostly didn’t do stupid things. Last night had been the exception. She’d been so out of it she’d let him manhandle her and…and kiss her.
