Resisting Her Commander Hero

by Lucy Ryder

  She was hugely embarrassed to recall that she hadn’t put up much of a fight, especially as there had been some anger and a lot of frustration behind his kiss.

  As if he’d wanted her to shut up and kissing her was the only thing he could think of.

  Yanking open the door, she squinted up…way up…at the huge figure leaning against the wall looking far too rested and relaxed to be the last person she wanted to see. The person responsible for disturbing her sleep. The person who’d left her at four thirty in the morning feeling confused and strangely buzzed.

  “Do you know what time it is?” she rasped irritably, carefully lifting an arm and shoving her fingers through her tangled hair. She hoped he hadn’t caught the fine tremor in her fingers or the careful way she moved but Nate always saw more than she wanted.

  “Had a rough night?” he asked mildly, his mouth—the mouth that had sucked the sass right out of her and the one she’d been dreaming about—twitching when her reply to his asinine observation was to curl her lip in a silent snarl.

  Frankie didn’t care how she looked. Pausing, she gave a mental eye-roll. Correction. She didn’t want to care but she’d fallen face first into bed with damp hair and could only imagine how she looked.

  “You should be sleeping.”

  For a few incredulous moments she blinked up at him as though she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Sleeping?” she practically yelped. “I would be sleeping, but some idiot is breaking down my door before the sun is even up.”

  Nate studied her silently from behind his aviator shades before lifting his arm and pointedly looking at a big black navy diving watch. “It’s just after noon.”

  “What are you doing here, Commander?” she demanded huskily. “I told you I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “No, you said you don’t need a keeper,” he corrected. “There’s a difference. I happen to disagree but this is being a friend—a brotherly friend.”

  Frankie stilled at his reminder that his interest was fraternal and nothing more. And the guilt that always accompanied the pain when someone mentioned Jack had her retorting, “I have enough friends, and I certainly don’t need or want another brother.”

  For a couple of beats Nate stilled, his jaw flexing as he studied her. And just when she expected him to turn and walk away, he expelled his breath in a half exasperated, half amused whoosh.

  “Good thing I know how grumpy you are in the morning before you’ve had your caffeine,” he drawled dryly, “or your sunny disposition might scare me away.” He held out a large to-go mug.

  When the aroma of fresh coffee finally hit her brain, Frankie reached out and grabbed it, tempted to forgive him for disturbing her sleep. “I’m only grumpy when I’m trying to sleep and idiots interrupt me. Why are you here again?”

  “I brought you breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry but thank you for the coffee,” she said politely, taking a huge sip and sighing as the hot brew hit her stomach. “Now go away.”

  Nate chuckled and pushed away from the wall. “She said you’d say that,” he said with amused resignation. “Now, either you back up and let me inside or I get ugly because I’d rather face you than an angry Paige.”

  Frankie narrowed her eyes at him over the top of the to-go cup. “How ugly?”

  “I’m trained in close-quarters combat,” he said mildly. “How ugly do you think it can get?”

  The last thing she wanted to be reminded about was his close-quarters combat move from that morning, so she demanded instead, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why now?” She took another sip of coffee and felt her head begin to clear. It paid to have her wits about her when dealing with Nate. “You’ve been home for nine months and not once in all that time did you even pick up the phone and say, ‘Hey, how about a drink to catch up on old times?’ So I repeat…why now?”

  Nate was quiet so long Frankie thought he didn’t intend to reply and before she could stop it, hurt lodged like a hard, hot lump in her chest. She stepped back and reached out to close the door before she did or said something she’d regret.

  “Never mind,” she clipped out frostily. “I can see that you’re trying to come up with some lame excuse you think I’m stupid enough to swallow,” and was about to close the door when a size thirteen boot stopped her.

  Annoyance at his gall edged out the hurt and she put all her weight behind it, trying to force it closed, but all it did was remind her that she’d given the mountain a full-body hug last night.

  She grunted. “Move your big clumsy foot before I break it in half.”

  “Yeah,” came his darkly amused voice, “I can’t see that happening.”

  Furious at his masculine display of superiority, Frankie shoved again and nearly whimpered as pain shot up her spine to explode in her skull. She must have made a sound because Nate muttered a few choice curse words.

  “Stop before you hurt yourself,” he growled. “And before you start yelling at me again, I thought Paige told you to take it easy?”

  She curled her lip to snarl at him when long tanned fingers curled around the door and with little visible effort he pushed it open—moving her backward with it.

  Only because she didn’t want to spill her coffee.

  Feeling a little light-headed, she turned and headed for the kitchen before she embarrassed herself by passing out. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” she snapped over her shoulder, sighing when she heard the door click shut. “Yeah,” she muttered. “So much for friendly concern. But thanks for the coffee,” she said, then yelped when she turned her head and discovered him right behind her.

  “Holy…” she gasped, stumbling into a kitchen cabinet and almost dropping her coffee before managing to set it on the counter with shaking hands. “What the heck are you doing?”

  Having nothing to occupy her hands, she folded her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him.

  He’d removed his sunglasses and shoved them onto the neck of his white T. “I brought you breakfast and I plan to stay while you eat it.” His eyes were sharp and intent as an eagle’s and she wished she was wearing more than ancient PJs—wished she’d had more time to dress and put on her mental makeup, because dealing with the adult version of Nate wasn’t going to be as simple as dealing with the boy she’d known.

  For one thing his eyes were no longer easy to read. No longer the warm honey filled with exasperated affection when he looked at her. It might have annoyed her that she couldn’t read him but she got a little sidetracked by the sight of those sexy eyes in the bright light of day.

  She knew he’d say they were brown, but not in any stretch of the imagination could such vibrant colors be called something as boring as brown. Brown made her think of mud or tree bark.

  His eyes were made up of three distinct colors; honey, amber and onyx. Amber and onyx striations radiated out from the center and a thin onyx circle edged his honey-colored irises, growing or shrinking according to his moods. As a kid she’d been able know what he was thinking but the man had learned to hide his feelings really well.

  From the world…or just her?

  “I was thinking about the last thing you said to me all those years ago. You said you didn’t want to see me again,” Nate reminded her mildly, propping his shoulder against the door frame and studying her like she was a particularly interesting bug he’d just discovered.

  Shame flooded her at the reminder of the words she’d flung at him that night.

  “I was eighteen and a little tipsy,” she said defensively, carefully propping her hip against the under-counter cabinet and placing one bare foot on top of the other. “I said a lot of stuff that night I didn’t mean and you know it. Besides,” she reminded him, “you called me a stupid spoiled brat and told me to grow up. I might have been spoiled and immature but I was never stupid.”

  “Really?” Nate said mildly as he placed a paper bag on the counter and folded his arms across his wide, hard—she wasn’t
ogling—chest. “Because I clearly remember you diving off Devil’s Point into the sea one night to impress some young punk. That was a really stupid move.”

  “You, Jack and Ty did it,” she pointed out. “Probably hoping you’d get laid by those brainless groupie bimbos you used to date. At least I won a bet.”

  “You won a broken arm too, but that’s not the point. The point is Jack let you run wild just to make up for Frank and Gloria.”

  “Leave Jack and my parents out of this,” she growled, feeling too fragile and exposed beneath those penetrating eyes to think about how inadequate she always felt when people talked about Jack. About how her parents had been so devastated at the death of their golden boy that they’d forgotten that she’d lost her brother too.

  She’d tried to be there for them—still tried—but they were always too wrapped up in their grief.

  And just like that she was feeling like the worst kind of person because after all this time she was still reacting like a jealous kid.

  What kind of person was jealous of a ghost? What kind of person was jealous of a brother she still adored five years after his death? But somewhere in all those mixed-up feelings of jealousy and anger and guilt was the certainty that everyone had set Jack up to die. They’d turned him into someone who’d felt that he should live up to everyone’s high expectations by enlisting.

  Besides, how better to live up to lofty expectations than dying a hero?

  And here in front of her was yet another man who needed to prove himself worthy. Prove he was nothing like his father by becoming—you guessed it—a hero. A man who looked all hot and sexy while doing it. A man who saw her as an annoying little sister he was constantly rescuing from disaster.

  Absolutely nothing sexy about that, despite that early-morning kiss.

  She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. She really needed to forget that kiss. “Fine. I was spoiled and needed to grow up but I don’t do stupid stuff anymore…unless saving you from a two-hundred-foot plunge to death is your idea of stupid.” He opened his mouth, probably to say something incredibly manly and insensitive, but Frankie cut him off. “Besides, I don’t want to talk about it.” Her glare told him that included what had happened earlier that morning. “Ever.”

  He shut his mouth on a sigh and just looked at her for a couple of beats before saying quietly, “What happened to you, Francis?”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She’d realized after Jack’s death that her self-worth wasn’t wrapped up in someone else’s opinion of her.

  But she didn’t tell him that. She also didn’t know how to handle this quiet, serious Nate either. She shrugged one shoulder. “I grew up like you told me to. If you don’t like what you see, Nathan, that’s just too bad.”

  He casually lifted his hand to scratch his jaw but Frankie caught the quick smile he tried to hide. A low sexy chuckle was his only response to her dangerously narrowed gaze. Sexy because those amber bits in his eyes sparkled and sexy because tingles shot from the base of her spine, ending…well, everywhere.

  She wanted to find him sexy about as much as she wanted to notice how the stark white cotton T-shirt contrasted with his tanned skin…or the way it stretched over some pretty awesome pecs, abs and biceps, inviting her hands to explore.

  She didn’t dare. No way.

  His darkly amused tone zapped her out of her stupid haze. “Since when do you do what other people say?”

  “Since never,” she rapped out smartly, embarrassed to be caught having hot thoughts about him while he was laughing at her. “And I told you I didn’t want to discuss the past so I’ll say this just once—and if you ever bring it up again you’re a dead man. You were…right.” She practically choked on the word but forced herself to continue. “I needed to—What?” she demanded when he gave a dramatic gasp.

  “Did you…did you just say I was right?”

  Frankie swung away before she threw the coffee at him. She needed the caffeine fix more than she wanted to hurt him.

  “You know what? Never mind. I take it back. You’re not right about anything—except maybe the coffee. Which is delicious, by the way.” She took another sip to show exactly how delicious and moaned with pleasure.

  Instantly, Nate’s eyes dropped to her mouth and Frankie experienced that full-body tingle again—like it was possible he was having trouble sticking to his “brotherly” thoughts, no matter what he said. The thought made her knees weak and her head light.

  The tense silence was interrupted when she finally caught a whiff of the food on the counter and her stomach decided to announce her hunger by growling…loudly. But she’d already rejected the breakfast and wouldn’t be reduced to begging.

  At least, not with Nate.

  “I just want to be alone with my coffee so we can have our moment,” she crooned, licking whipped cream from her lips, which curved in a delighted smile when his eyes instantly darkened. They went all heavy and half-mast and Frankie covered her smile with a yawn. He was definitely thinking non-brotherly thoughts. “But since you’re still here, it might be a good time to repeat my question.”

  Nate’s brows drew together over the bridge of his nose but his gaze was slow to return to hers. Probably with as much frustration as bafflement because, God knew, she had that kind of effect on men.

  “Which question was that?”

  “Why are you here, Commander?”

  “I brought you breakfast and before you say you’re not hungry, I heard your stomach growling. So don’t think about spiting yourself just because I brought it. Besides, I bet you haven’t considered that your body needs to recover.”

  “I was recovering,” she reminded him. “But you interrupted my beauty sleep.”

  His eyes gleamed with amusement as he took in her wild red-gold hair, ancient T-shirt and soft, faded flannel PJ pants, and for the first time in her life Frankie wished she was wearing something sexy. Not because she wanted him to find her sexy but to prove to him that she was all grown up.

  Okay and maybe just a little part of her wanted him to eat his heart out because she was no longer that brash, skinny, underdeveloped teenager jealous of all the attention he gave other girls.

  “Don’t say it,” she warned.

  “Say what?”

  “That I need all the beauty sleep I can get.”

  He gave a low sexy chuckle that did annoying things to her belly. To convince herself it was just hunger pangs, she reached out and grabbed the paper bag from Sid’s, a popular diner on the boardwalk, and drew it against her as though she was afraid he’d steal it. When she opened it and peered inside, she nearly swooned at the delicious aromas escaping. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d brought her favorite breakfast. But then again Paige had probably told him.

  There were two containers in the bag, one much smaller than the other. She focused her attention on the larger container because she knew what was inside.

  “I thought you said you weren’t hungry.”

  “I’m not,” she lied, opening the container and practically salivating at what she uncovered. “But Sid’s harvest eggs Benedict are the best in Washington. Team that with crispy bacon and mushrooms and I could almost forgive you for disturbing my beauty sleep. Besides, I figure if I eat something you’ll leave and I can go back to bed.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Francis,” Nate said mildly. “Always were.” He was quiet a moment before saying softly, “I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed.”

  Not wanting to discuss changes, Frankie reached out to open the cutlery drawer and sucked in a sharp breath when the move reminded her that she’d tried to be a superhero last night.

  “Looks like your stubborn streak is bigger than ever,” Nate said dryly, and opened the drawer.

  “Hey.” She grabbed the fork he held out and jabbed it in the air. “I can fight my own demons, thank you very much. This morning I wrestled quite a few of my own—” Realizing what she was about to admit, Frankie shoveled a huge forkfu
l into her mouth and prayed he didn’t notice her almost-confession.

  “Having nightmares?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” she dismissed, shoveling a piece of bacon into her mouth. But when Nate just looked at her she added casually, “Nothing a girls’ night out won’t cure.” Or a hot and heavy bout of sex. But that was about as likely as winning the lottery.

  “What?” she asked warily, quickly backing up when she realized that Nate had moved closer. He reached out and cupped her chin in his big warm hand, tightening his grip when she tried to jerk away.

  “What?” she demanded, a little spooked by the abrupt intensity in his gaze.

  “You had nightmares? About this morning?”

  “Well, the kiss wasn’t that bad,” she tried to joke, but he just continued to hold her gaze until she was afraid he could see all the way to her soul. “Fine, yes,” she sighed, shoving his hand away and stepping out of reach. “I had a few nightmares. Big deal.”

  “About? I’m only asking,” he continued when she rolled her eyes, “because it’s better to talk them through. Keeps the dreams from becoming real inside your mind.”

  “Oh, please,” she snorted dryly. “Now you sound like a shrink.” No way was she talking about her dreams or nightmares. Especially not to him. Mostly because they’d been about him. About the fact that he’d slipped from her reach and disappeared into a stygian abyss.

  “Is that what the Navy shrinks make you do?” she asked, to cover the fact that just thinking about him dying had left her with a hollow feeling of devastation. “Talk about your dreams?”

  “Among other things,” he murmured, and Frankie tried not to feel disappointed when his expression shut down and he drew away. Shutting her out. “But the other reason I’m here is to say thank you.”

  “For?”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “For that stupid leap off the ledge.”

  “Stupid?” she demanded. “Is that what you call saving your dumb hide?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I meant if you hadn’t been attached to the safety line you would have gone over with me.”