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

  “Does everything fit okay?” Fork poised in the air, she ran an appreciative gaze over his body. “And before you say anything, no, I did not have your measurements.”

  It was back.

  Life had returned to her features. Amusement sparked in Samantha’s eyes along with a flash of heat, and Mitch had absolutely no business feeling this happy. But he did, and awareness instantly pinged through his body.

  “Everything fits fine,” he said, then added, “Thank you.”

  He eyed his plate of fish and potatoes and contemplated digging out a knife from where he’d hid them, until she broke her food apart with a fork. Perfect. Fork tender. Doing the same, he eagerly shoved the delicious smelling food into his mouth.

  Damn...

  “Samantha, this is good. Really good,” he said, taking another bite.

  A soft blush stole across her cheeks.

  “Thanks. I used bay seasoning. My grandfather always used to say, if it’s not seasoned—”

  “It’s not worth eating,” he finished, heart rocking hard in his chest.

  Shep said those words at every meal when he’d throw whatever kind of spice he could find into their slop. Mitch set his fork down, pulse pounding in his ears. “How the hell do you know that?”

  Cripes, had the Germans infiltrated their camp? Or the Japs?

  A patient look came into her eyes. “Relax. I know because my grandfather taught me how to cook. He’s the one who turned me on to bay seasoning. I never cook fish without it.” She pointed to a shaker bottle on the counter.

  Working on getting his heart rate under control, he watched her eat for a full minute. Either she was Shep’s granddaughter or the enemy had infiltrated the island.

  She glanced up, placed her fork down and sighed. “Look, Captain. I can assure you, no one’s spying on the Black Sheep.”

  “How?”

  Her chin lifted. “You would’ve sensed them. You sensed me, didn’t you?”

  She had a point. He had felt her gaze while he’d been talking to the mechanics. Of course, their strange connection could’ve been the cause.

  “That’s different.”

  Her brow arched. “Different, how?”

  “This,” he said, reaching across the table to grab her hand, noting her pulse jumped under his fingers. “We react to each other.”

  She nodded, her free hand blanketing his. “We don’t have to be touching. I can feel when you walk into the room. How about you?”

  Shit. Yeah, he did, too. He tugged free and continued to eat without answering. After a moment, she did the same.

  “I’m curious, Samantha.”

  “About what?”

  “This place,” he replied, noting her surprise in the change of subject. Good. He wanted her off guard. “I know you gather rain and filter it, but how do you have electricity to heat the water and for these lights?” His hand swept the room along with his gaze, noting several lit lamps and the light hanging overhead. “Does it have something to do with the strange panels on the roof?”

  Again, she nodded. “Yes, solar panels. They collect the sun’s heat and convert it to energy. That’s how we have workable indoor plumbing, hot water as you’ve mentioned, and even heat, but I don’t usually use the heaters until the dead of winter. Right now, I prefer to use the fireplaces in the bedrooms and in here.” She glanced at the living room hearth. “Oh, this one needs more wood.”

  He followed her gaze then stood.

  “No, I got this.” She smiled and waved at the table. “You, on the other hand, get to clean up. Fair is fair, since I cooked.”

  Clean up?

  That was new. Sure, he did on the island, but never in his youth. His mother and sister took care of that chore. His mother and sister. God, that was a lifetime ago. His mother had since passed and little sister was recently a new mom. He hadn’t been back to Minnesota since he enlisted at the start of the war. Now, he had a sinking suspicion he never would again.

  “You can toss the scraps down the sink. I have a garbage disposal.”

  Samantha’s strange request brought him out of his thoughts. She had a what? He turned around to ask and got an eyeful instead. On her knees, the temptress reached for a piece of wood from the pile he’d stacked next to the fireplace. Like a second skin, the denim hugged her back end and he took a moment to admire the incredible view. The pants hugged, touched, covered her rounded curves—a duty he longed to volunteer for and never relinquish.

  She has absolutely nothing on underneath.

  The second the thought entered his head, his groin tightened and throbbed. Blue jeans hung so low on her hips that when she reached for another piece of wood, he caught a glimpse of her sweet…

  Mitch straightened.

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  All the blood pumping through his veins immediately halted as his world came to a crashing stop.

  She had the same mark.

  A second later, he was behind her, reaching for her jeans.

  “Hey! Mitch, what are you doing?” She tried to turn around, but he already had the waistband of her pants pulled back enough to view the top of her left cheek.

  “MOM.”

  “Mom?” She stopped struggling and frowned over her shoulder at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Moon On Moon.”

  “A moon on my…oh, you mean my birthmark.” She nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does kind of look like a crescent moon.”

  Why hadn’t he noticed the mark last night, when she had been naked? Because her right side had been facing me, not her left, his mind supplied.

  Maybe it was fake. Somehow part of the German’s elaborate scheme. He ran the pad of his finger over the small, brown mark. She went still. Very still. Son-of-a-bitch. Slightly raised on the edges. Not a tattoo.

  A real birthmark.

  “Shep has one,” he muttered, having seen the mark on his friend courtesy of the showers at base camp. Hell, the whole squad had seen the birthmark, and given Shep a hard time over it, and its location. They were the ones who gave the mark the nickname M.O.M.

  “I-I knew my dad did—well, his is on his shoulder. I had no idea grandpa had one, too. And in the same spot as mine?”

  Cripes. If hers is real, then that means…

  Mitch let her go and sat on the floor, releasing all the air in his lungs.

  Samantha’s been telling the truth all along.

  Chapter 10

  Sam twisted around to find the captain white as a ghost, sitting against the stone fireplace, eyes wide and unblinking. Her heart rocked in her chest.

  He believed. He finally believed.

  She scooted over to him, taking his hands in her own. God, they were so cold. “Mitch. Mitch, look at me. It’s going to be all right.”

  He blinked and focused on her. “I’m sorry, Samantha. All this time, you’ve been telling me the truth and I didn’t believe you.”

  “It’s okay. Who would believe a time-shifting tale?” She squeezed his hands and smiled, hoping to get through. “Come on.”

  She drew him to his feet and led him to the couch. He was showing signs of shock, so she took the afghan off the back and placed the knitted throw around his shoulders. “I’m going to get you something strong to drink. I’ll be right back.”

  Two cupboards and one cabinet later, she found an unopened bottle of whiskey and several shot glasses. Fingers shaking, she rinsed two out, wondering why she was upset. It wasn’t her world that just came crashing down.

  After pouring out two shots, she quickly placed everything on a tray and carried it to the coffee table. Shit. Eyes dazed, shoulders slumped, hair messed from where his fingers had raked through…poor guy looked like he could use the whole bottle.

  “Here you go.”

  By the time she sat next to him, he’d already tossed back a shot and was pouring another. Yep, he definitely needed the bottle.

  She drank hers and coughed. “Okay, yeah…well, that’s enough alcohol for me.” />
  In her line of work, Sam needed all the brain cells she could muster. She’d also needed that shot. It’d been one hell of a week. She glanced at Mitch and her stomach tightened. But so much worse for him.

  His head slowly shook from side to side and he began to laugh. “Christ, Samantha. I thought you were a German spy!”

  A smile tugged at her lips, and although she wanted to say something, she knew it was better to remain quiet. He had to work through things himself.

  “Yes, sir.” He continued to do shots and chuckle. “I swore I was in Germany near the Austrian border and the Krauts were going to come bursting through the door any minute.” Twisting the glass in his hand, he stared at the amber liquid and snickered. “How the hell they got on the island and what the hell they wanted with me I didn’t know. I even thought maybe they’d taken the other guys and were doing the same thing.”

  He grew silent, just staring into the liquid, lost in thought. Sam’s heart ached. How could she help? What could she say? Not a damn thing. Nothing was going to make the guy feel better. The war was over. All his friends were dead. Life as he knew it was completely gone.

  Thanks to her.

  “I’m so sorry, Mitch. I wish there was something I could say or do,” she said, touching is arm.

  He set his glass down and turned to face her. “Actually, there is.”

  The fierce longing darkening his eyes kicked her pulse clean into orbit. Shit.

  “Y-you’re going to…”

  “Kiss you.” A deliciously wicked grin spread across his lips. He cupped her face and drew close. “Yes, Samantha, I am.”

  Anticipation trembled through her as she palmed his chest in a last ditch effort to interject some sanity. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” he said against her lips before pressing her into the cushions and kissing her long and deep.

  He tasted of whiskey and hot…so very hot. She was hot. They were roasting. A half moan, half whimper…a mimper…a woan...rumbled in her throat. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted the connection, needed the connection until that very moment.

  With a hand in her hair, Mitch tipped her head, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth while his other hand slowly glided down her side to settle on her hip.

  All coherent thought, their situation, the cabin, time… everything faded away except for the wild pounding of her heart.

  Only too happy to reciprocate, she moved a hand around his back and the other up into his hair, pressing against his hard body as their tongues intertwined. The kiss was a wonderful idea. Incredible idea. Best damn idea since space travel.

  Too bad the timing sucked.

  With great reluctance and a heavy dose of common sense, Sam broke away and drew in a huge amount of air. That helped, but not much. Now he was kissing a path down her throat, sending shiver after shiver straight to her toes. The grip he had on her hip loosened and his fingers slipped under her shirt to lightly stroke the skin below her bra, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast.

  Oh, sweet mercy. Did she really have to make him stop?

  Yes, unfortunately yes. The man would sleep with anyone right now. Hit on any woman right now. And, heaven help her, she didn’t want to be just any woman.

  Not thinking about why that mattered, she pushed out of his embrace and scrambled to her feet.

  “Y-you…” she cleared her throat and tried again. “You have other things to deal with. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  Liar. She most definitely wanted to distract him. Distract the hell out of him until she couldn’t walk without aid.

  He remained quiet.

  “I’m going to leave you alone. Maybe go take my shower.” Their gazes met. “Um...I…it would be great if I could have my underwear back now.”

  His lips twitched into a smile as he glanced at her crotch, now at eye-level. “I wouldn’t.”

  Sweet mercy...

  “W-w-wouldn’t what?” Her knees were so close to buckling.

  “Think it would be great for you to have your underwear back,” he replied, mischief and desire ruling his features.

  She smiled despite herself. “Yeah, I bet.” The man needed to adjust to his situation, not her crotch.

  Inwardly groaning, she walked away before she responded to the teasing glint in his eyes. He was too friggin’ tempting. Way too friggin’ tempting. Sex was the last thing he needed right now. All right, maybe not the last, but certainly wasn’t the first.

  “Top drawer of the nightstand in my room,” he called after her.

  She made a beeline and found them along with the box of condoms and her MP3 player. Probably keeping the stash close so she wouldn’t steal it while he slept. No longer a problem. She grabbed her underwear, doing her best not to think about the condoms, and left.

  “Thanks,” she said, before disappearing into her own room.

  Not thinking about him.

  Not thinking about sex.

  Not thinking about those damn condoms.

  Dropping all but one thong on the bed, she refrained from grabbing his white shirt. To be wrapped in his scent would kill her resolve. She snatched her large black T-shirt with the Marine Corps logo, and, unwilling to think about anything but the shower, marched straight to the bathroom without looking back.

  “Need any help?”

  Shit, yeah. “No thanks,” she replied.

  Ten minutes later, dressed in her shirt and thong, she gathered her dirty clothes and opened the door.

  Mitch stood with his back to her, staring out the large picture window. The sun had set, leaving only darkness behind, not even the distant snowcapped mountain was visible. In his own private world, he stared as if it were bright as day.

  Shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets, he appeared to carry the weight of the planet. Her heart lurched.

  It’s all my fault.

  His gaze met hers in the glass-turned-mirror from the darkness outside. He looked so torn. God, she wished things had been different. That she hadn’t flown back in time.

  Her pulse hiccupped. No, not true. This man, who slowly turned to stare at her with a somber expression on his handsome face, was her destiny.

  The truth opened her mind. Yes. My God, he was the reason she was alive. The reason she existed. Sam felt it deep down to her very soul. Somehow, she just knew, and judging by the intensity of his gaze, he knew it too.

  “I…ah…” She swallowed past the desire to comfort him and steadied her voice. “I’m going to bed.”

  Alone. Unfortunately.

  She headed for her room, if she stayed out there much longer, they’d fall into bed. They still might. Hell, they probably would. The way awareness zinged off the walls and sucked all the air out of the cabin was pretty much a tell-tale sign sex was eminent.

  Not tonight, though. She needed to give him time. Make sure he came to terms with his situation.

  She stopped in the doorway and glanced at the silent, misplaced sheep. “Goodnight, Mitch.”

  His chin lifted slightly, gaze fastened to hers, very aware. He knew she was running away. But it was for his own good.

  He knew that, too.

  “Goodnight, Samantha.”

  ***

  The next morning, Sam woke with a heaviness in her chest. She couldn’t get the disoriented look on Mitch’s face out of her mind. It was her fault. She did that to him. Yanked him from all he knew.

  She groaned into her pillow. You had no choice, the alternative was worse. Back and forth, all night long she’d silently chided and excused her actions. Cripes. Her head hurt. She needed some pills.

  Ah, shoot…my pills.

  Way to go, Sam. She never got her birth control from Mitch. With a curse on her lips, she jumped out of bed and was halfway to the door when it sunk in. She stopped and turned around. The packet was on her nightstand, along with a glass of water.

  A smile tugged her lips. Sneaky bug
ger. Checking her watch, she noted she still had ten minutes. She got dressed and made her bed before taking her pill, and then headed into the other room with plans to tackle last night’s forgotten dishes and make coffee.

  Done and done.

  Mitch sat at the clean table, cup in hand while he flipped through the photo album she’d packed in his bag. He looked up and smiled.

  The lack of suspicion and mistrust gave way to a friendly warmth previously missing in his gorgeous, blue-green eyes. Oh, heaven help her…she was toast.

  “Good morning, Samantha.”

  “Good morning, Mitch,” she replied, her heart suddenly feeling much lighter. “You’re looking well rested.”

  He laughed and motioned to the bottle still sitting on the coffee table. “Blame it on the whiskey.”

  More than three-quarters of the alcohol remained. Nope. Wasn’t the whiskey.

  “I thought for sure you would’ve kicked the bottle.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Although, I admit, I was tempted.”

  “Well, I’m glad you switched to coffee. Smells wonderful.”

  “Help yourself to a mug and pull up a chair. Then maybe you can go through this album with me.”

  “Sure.” She grinned. “I’ll even cook us some breakfast.”

  “My luck’s changing for the better every second.”

  They laughed and the next two hours flew by while they ate and she answered questions about each photo. She had more albums and a few scrapbooks at home. This had been the only album she had with her on base.

  “So, Shep opened up a charter service after the war,” he said, studying an early photo of SC Charters.

  “Yes.” She nodded, remembering her grandfather’s words. “He said he’d had enough of the tropics. That’s why he picked Colorado.”

  Her grandfather had also wanted to open the business with one of his war buddies, a Captain Carson, but the pilot had been shot down in a maneuver which saved her grandfather’s life and several other Black Sheep. Not something Captain Mitchell needed to know today. The incident would’ve happened after he left. Right now, Mitch needed to deal with his own situation, not the death of one of his buddies.

  Baby steps.

  She tapped the picture. “He settled in Telluride and opened the business there. The charter service is nearly three times the size now with three fulltime pilots, including my dad and brother who run the place. Dad also teaches people to fly. They’re both former Marine Corps pilots, too.”