10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  Wrong. Maria’s fingers began working the buttons on his shirt.

  Sam’s jaw dropped. “Maria! What are you doing?” She slapped her friend’s hands away.

  “He looked uncomfortable. I thought I’d help him out of a few things.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “Well, since he’s not awake to confirm, we’ll do no such thing.” Sam pointed toward the door with such vigor the mattress shook underneath her ass. “Go see what you can jimmy-rig so Command will think we experienced a slight communications malfunction.”

  “All right, I’m going, I’m going.” Maria chuckled. “If you wanted to be alone with him, you could’ve just said so. Lord knows you could use a good strapping Marine in you.”

  “Maria!”

  “What?” She shrugged. “You could, you know.”

  Accelerated to mach one, Sam’s heartbeat soared and body tingled at the mere thought of tangling sheets with one of her childhood heroes. She drew in a long breath. “No. I don’t need a Marine and certainly not this one. Now go. We have to leave in five minutes.”

  “Five minutes? Honey, that won’t be quick enough for you to—“

  “Maria.” Sam jumped to her feet and glared at her snickering friend.

  “I’m going. I’m going.”

  Taking a moment…or five…to regain control of her emotions—not to mention her breathing—she waited until the front door clicked shut before turning to the captain.

  That simple act reactivated her skyrocketing pulse. Large, booted feet hung over the bottom of the bed. Sam chewed her lower lip. Should she try to heave him up onto the pillows? Ah, hell… She didn’t want to touch him again.

  He did look uncomfortable though, and if he didn’t regain consciousness soon, he’d surely develop a kink in his neck.

  With a curse on her lips, she leaned over to curl her hands under and around the man’s broad shoulders, and nearly chickened out. Damn…he smells good. Musky. Male. Hot. Not all sweaty and smoky from battle. A quick shake of the head cleared the fog from her mind, and she mustered all her strength to lift him a few inches.

  All went well until the throw rug slid from under her feet and propelled her smack dab on top of the unconscious Marine.

  Chapter 4

  Heat shot to Sam’s toes and every blessed extremity in an explosion of acute awareness. The unexpected connection of their bodies awakened a response she felt deep in her core. Cripes. She scrambled to her feet as if burnt.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Fingers shaking, she covered the pulse racing in her throat. He was just a man. She stared down at him. A very good looking man.

  A tuft of dark hair had flopped onto his forehead, making him appear younger and somewhat familiar. How? Grandpa’s Black Sheep photos? No. She shook her head. The men were too far from the camera to be clear.

  How do I know you?

  Unable to control her hand, she reached down and brushed the hair from his face. Thick and soft, the tresses surrounded her fingers and an image of both her hands thrust into his hair while his lips crushed her mouth, shot through Sam’s head with distinct clarity.

  What the hell?

  She released him and stepped back. Once again, the vision seemed more like a…memory. A flashback. She blinked. Must be some sort of time-lag.

  Her gaze dropped to his unbuttoned shirt, thanks to her friend. Shit. I can’t do it. She turned to leave then halted. No. The last thing he needed was to wake to unfamiliar surroundings and a disheveled uniform.

  Dammit, Maria!

  Breath held, fingers shaking, Sam fumbled with his shirt. Heat funneled to her core, hotter and hotter with each muscle and ridge she encountered along the way. And he had a T-shirt on underneath. Imagine if she’d touched bare skin…

  Time-travel lag. That was why she was acting like a schoolgirl.

  “Sorry, Captain Mitchell.” Her finger skimmed the embroidered letters on his name patch before she stood back and swallowed past a dry throat. “Please don’t hate me.”

  His head moved from side to side. “Anna,” he mumbled.

  Sam’s heart hit the floor. He was waking up.

  Pivoting on her booted heel, she raced from the room. Not yet, Captain, she willed, quickly scribbling a note to inform him about canned food in the cupboards, fishing gear in the closet near the door, wood for a fire stacked out back and added she was sorry and would explain everything when she returned, signing it, Sam.

  Afraid he’d emerge from the bedroom any second, she sprinted from the cabin straight to the visible Phantombird.

  “Maria, what happened to the cloaking?” She whacked the button to close the door and stared at her friend, crouched down by an opened panel.

  “Oh, I de-cloaked in order to reroute some of the communication wires. We’re good to go.”

  Gaze fixed on the cabin, Sam punched the invisibility button and nearly died. The wooden door swung open.

  “Shit! I hope you’re right because the captain just stumbled outside.”

  “No way!”

  Maria’s boots scuffed the floor and echoed through the cockpit. A second later, she joined her at the helm window.

  “Wow.” Her friend whistled. “His front is even more impressive…conscious. Back on the island, the only glimpse I got of him awake was from behind…not that—”

  “Maria! For goodness sake. You’d swear you’ve never seen a man before.” Sam grabbed her friend’s arm and leaned closer. “Can you please focus your grand attention on repairs instead of Captain Mitchell?”

  “Ah, I forgot. He’s yours. No problem.” Maria chuckled as she walked back to the opened wires and knelt down. “He hadn’t been looking our way, so at least we seemed to be invisible again.”

  He’s mine?

  Sam eyed the sexy man scratching his head as he turned around and around.

  “I don’t want him for myself.”

  Liar.

  “I want to get out of here and back to base before we’re doomed to face a court martial.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “And yes, thank goodness he doesn’t see us.” Her eyes fluttered open and chest tightened as she stared at the misplaced Marine. “He’s facing enough trauma already. No need to add to it.”

  “Amen, sister.” Maria snapped the panel back into place before stowing away her tools. “That should solidify our story about a faulty communications system without appearing tampered with.”

  “Super.” Sam nodded, forever grateful her friend was an electronics genius. “Buckle up and let’s get out of here.”

  Ignition sequence typed in, she hit the switch. Operational, yet silent. Too cool. Captain Mitchell had no clue the Phantombird hovered a few hundred feet away.

  One last look at the VMF pilot slumped against the cabin, she willed him to understand. I had to do it. I had to rip you from your world. With her throat hot and swollen, Sam plugged in the base’s coordinates and headed for her date with hours of relentless questioning.

  ***

  Three grueling days later, Sam stood in front of the cabin, and waved to an apprehensive Maria flying out of sight in Sam’s Cessna.

  “I don’t like it,” her friend had said, making a low pass over the clearing in front of the cabin. “I don’t like leaving you unarmed with no phone or means of communication.”

  “It’s only for five days. Besides, I’m a Marine—trained to overcome and adapt,” Sam reminded.

  A point her friend could not argue, and didn’t because Sam had jumped out of the plane.

  It was time to face the piper, or in this case, the Black Sheep.

  Despite what she’d told Maria, Sam’s gut warned things would not go well. She gathered the two duffle bags she’d tossed out of the plane before jumping, and pushed back the strange fatigue plaguing her for the past few days. Her military status demanded top form. Sickness was not tolerated.

  Grateful she’d worn a sweater, she shivered against the early October chill an
d eyed the cabin. No movement in the windows. No smoke from the chimney. No sound. Nothing. An invisible vise gripped her chest. Dear God, tell me he didn’t try to walk off the mountain. She glanced around, but with the first snow of the season still a few days off, footprints weren’t readily visible.

  Stupid, stubborn Marine. He could be hurt or…

  With her heart permanently lodged in her throat, Sam tore up to the cabin, and dropped the bags on the porch. Where was he? Surely, he’d heard the Cessna? She touched her ear to the cold door and shivered again. Silence.

  Maybe he went fishing on the other side of the lake. She twisted around and scoured the shore line, hand snapping to her forehead to shield her eyes from the midday sun.

  Nothing. No sign of him.

  Unease bit at her stiffening spine. Now what?

  She pivoted back to the door, took a deep breath, and with a prayer on her lips he was just taking a nap, Sam slowly turned the knob.

  The door suddenly jerked in and to the right with such force Sam stumbled forward into the cabin.

  Son-of-a…

  Before she could regain her equilibrium, something big hit the back of her calves and knocked her to the floor—hard.

  Intruder? So help me, if he hurt the captain…

  Instinct kicked in. Knee thrust upward, she made contact with a solid object and heard a muffled oath before she rolled in the opposite direction. Large hands gripped her waist, and despite her clumsy attempt to hold on to the threshold, he yanked her back.

  Yeah, coming here without a weapon had been a real good idea.

  Fast and precise, she drove her elbow into the vicinity of her assailant’s jaw and sent a sharp jolt up her arm. She swallowed a cry of pain and rejoiced in his second muffled oath. Two for me. With a quick roll, she scrambled to her knees and began to rise when a heavy weight hit from behind, dropped down and pinned her face-first to the cold, wooden floor.

  “Not so fast. Sam is it?”

  That familiar, deep voice split the silence, while hot, panting breathes stirred more than the hair on her neck. Uncontrollable shivers covered her skin as recognition stole the fight out of her. This wasn’t an intruder. It was Captain Mitchell. Thank God. He was safe.

  But she wasn’t.

  The instant she stopped struggling, her body became deliciously aware of every hard, solid inch of the six-foot-two-inch frame completely covering her from head to toe.

  Holy Black Sheep.

  The urge to wiggle just so he’d press tantalizingly closer was almost more than she could bear. If only I was on my back… The errant thought sent a wicked quiver straight to her core.

  You’re a Marine. You don’t give in.

  Sam tamped down her burgeoning desire and willed her voice to convey calm. “Let me up, Captain. I can explain.”

  “No, and damn right you can.” He lifted up slightly, easing some of his weight.

  Thank goodness…I think.

  Instead of knocking him off balance and regaining the upper hand, she drew in a few breaths and refrained from retaliating. She’d abducted the man. He was out of his element. She needed to keep things civil.

  Mistake number one.

  A swift motion had her arms yanked behind her back, while he wrapped her crossed wrists with something strong and thin. Fishing line? Oh, hell no!

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

  No answer.

  “Damn it, Captain. You let me go, now.” She thrashed from side to side, trying her best to free her legs from his shifting weight.

  “No,” he said, and granting her earlier wish, pressed closer.

  Funny, she wasn’t as happy about the pinning as she’d originally imagined.

  Unable to move, and barely able to breath, she stilled. Best to see what he wanted, and bide her time until he let his guard down. And he would let it down, of that she had no doubt. Men always did.

  Cold from the floorboards cooled her heated skin as she twisted her face to the side. What little breath his weight would allow funneled into her lungs. “You can get off me now.”

  No answer.

  “Captain.” She tried to draw in another breath but only coughed. “I c-c-can’t brea…”

  He lifted a mere fraction, but the extra space was enough to fill her lungs with a proper amount of air. “Thanks.” She coughed again.

  In the next instant, he hauled her up off the floor and pulled her to the center of the sprawling living room. Alarm raced down her spine. He’d moved the furniture to the side. Damn man must’ve had this planned for days. Could she blame him? Of course not. He was a Marine. She would’ve done the same.

  Plopped onto a wooden chair, arms hooked around the back, she clenched her teeth against the pain ripping her muscles. Dammit. If he wasn’t a Black Sheep, she’d kick his ass. Turning the tables on him would not be a problem. But she refrained. Barely.

  He doesn’t understand, her mind reminded. You plucked him from the middle of war and dropped him in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, you will not give him a permanent limp.

  Discipline once again kicking in, she relaxed her shoulders and the stiffness from her arms, and soon the sting of her restraints lessened.

  “Now, Captain,” she said as calm as possible. “Kindly tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?”

  “Why, I should think that was obvious…Sam.”

  The Marine’s unfriendly tone sent shivers of the wrong kind down her spine. Her blood froze. This can’t be good. She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. She also refused to look him in the eye. The last time had completely disoriented; not at all what she needed right now.

  With her gaze fixed on his regulation tan shirt, she stared at the uniform, hoping to find the view safer.

  Wrong.

  Broad shoulders forced the material to hug his lean frame. Damn. He sure had wonderful muscle definition for someone born before the fitness craze. Her mouth dried. And the waxing craze. Ah hell. He had hair, too. A light sprinkling peaked out from his collar, teasing her with thoughts of what else his uniform concealed. She gave herself a mental shake and concentrated on the situation at hand.

  “What’s obvious, Captain, is that you’re being a jerk. So you’d better spell it out for me. What are you doing?”

  He stepped closer without a reply.

  More intimidation tactics. Instinct cried out he wasn’t going to speak until she looked up. Damn, stubborn…

  “I’m not interested in playing ‘who’s the baddest Marine’ with you. It’s been one hell of a long week. I’m tired, hungry, and thanks to you, I’m sore, so let’s call our tussle a draw.” Composed, her voice belayed the turmoil swirling in her gut. Fine, he wanted her to look up, she’d look up.

  With fingernails biting into her palms, she tipped her head and stared into a pair of unmerciful, cold, blue-green eyes. Beset with an overwhelming urge to swallow—okay, gulp; his unfriendly gaze demanded she gulp—Sam’s cowardly side did an about-face and her chin lifted higher.

  “Well? Do you always treat women this way? Does man-handling make you feel big and strapping?”

  Frosting further, eyes now more blue than green narrowed as his clenching jaw cracked out an ‘I’m losing my control’ tune.

  Way to go, Sam. She pushed him into pouncing tiger mode and was the only flesh around. At least she possessed the good sense to back down. Usually. Too bad she left good with common back on the base.

  “Okay.” Keep your mouth shut. Zip it. “Can I take your silence to mean there’s a reason you attacked me and tied me up?”

  Muscled arms folded across a broad chest, while a humorless grin crossed his face. “Oh, there’s a reason all right, Sam. A very good one.”

  “And your reason is?”

  His grin disappeared, along with her breathing.

  “To capture the captor.”

  Brown hair, soft as silk, sat off kilter in its forced ponytail imprisonment. Shorter strands broke free to caress her
cheek bones and chin. Mitch’s throat dried, remembering how the long locks had tumbled past her shoulder blades in brown magnificence back on the island. Such splendor should never be confined.

  Neither should I.

  His blood simmered. She captured him. Why? She didn’t sound German. What the hell was going on? He wanted answers. Shifting his stance, he pulled out all the intimidation stops and stared down at his prisoner.

  “This is ridiculous,” she ground out, a scowl creasing her beautiful heart-shaped face. “Let. Me. Go.”

  She was a spy, of course she’d be beautiful. Green eyes blazed like palm leaves basking in the sun, full of life and gathered heat.

  Anna’s eyes…

  Mitch clenched his jaw and refocused. “Where’s my squadron?”

  “Your…” She blinked and the fire instantly disappeared. “Same place as always.”

  Same place—

  Sharp, swirling air rushed to his lungs, tickling his throat with a need to cough. He refused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “They’re at Vella Lavella.”

  More double talk! Blood rushed to his brain. “Then, where the hell am I?”

  “In my grandfather’s cabin.”

  “Your grandfather’s…” Mitch’s voice died, and so apparently had the woman’s reason.

  Swell. A nutcase. The enemy sent a nutcase.

  Finally, after several days of solitary with horrible images and thoughts in his head, the enemy sent someone…and she was plumb crazy. He closed his eyes and fists, fighting a fierce urge to hit something.

  Too bad his captor was a woman.

  A woman. His eyes snapped open. Why send a dame?

  Mitch regarded her clear gaze, delicate chin and nose, full parted lips...and forced his fingers to relax. “Listen, lady.” He sighed. “I don’t know who you are or where we are, and I don’t care why. I just want to go back to my men and help fight the war.”

  Dread…

  Christ. The last emotion he wanted to see flash through her eyes was dread. All the blood in his body funneled straight to his boots. He backed away, fearing he’d shake the life out of her if he didn’t distance himself.

  “The guys better not be all dead.”