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

  Mitch looked at her and smiled. “All in the family, huh?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, returning his smile. “My sister-in-law runs the office and does the books. Jenny isn’t military, but she sure keeps a tight ship. This is their three-year-old son, Carson. He loves airplanes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took over the business when he grows up.”

  Mitch’s eyes narrowed slightly, no doubt recognizing the name. He didn’t comment. Thank God. Sam really didn’t want to bring any sadness into the conversation.

  “What about you?” he asked, pointing to a photo of her in her flight suit by her Harrier a few years back. “You’re still in the Marines?”

  “Sort of. That’s when I was a fighter pilot deployed overseas.”

  “Sure is one hell of an impressive looking plane.”

  A smile tugged her lips. “It’s actually a jet. The AV-8B Harrier II. I suppose you could say it’s the evolution of the Corsair. Vertical lift, voice command, night attack capabilities and travels at Mach 1 speeds.”

  “Holy shit.” He sat back in his seat, still staring at the photo. “That’s…”

  “Subsonic, yeah. 585 knots. 673 mph.”

  Envy sparkled in his eyes when his gaze traveled back to hers. “What does it feel like?”

  Her smile widened. “Amazing. I mean, God the power…what a rush.”

  “Damn.” He nodded. “Are there a lot of female Marine fighter pilots?”

  She snorted. “Oh, hell no. Barely a handful. I had to constantly prove myself on each new base I was assigned. But I knew going in it would be all uphill. And worth it.”

  He pulled his gaze from the photos to stare at her. “So if you’re not a fighter pilot, what are you now?”

  “A test pilot.”

  “Test pilot?”

  “Yes. I test government sanctioned aircraft. There’s not much more I can tell you other than we’re based in the Nevada dessert. I enjoy it, but this assignment is a stepping stone for me. I’m hoping it will get me into the NASA space program.”

  “So you could pilot…what was it you called it…a shuttle?”

  “Yes.” She dropped his gaze and the subject, a little reluctant to talk about her dream after he’d looked at her like she was crazy yesterday. Not that she blamed him. It would sound insane to someone not from her time.

  A warm hand covered hers and squeezed. She looked up into a remorseful blue-green gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Samantha. I had no idea space travel was real. I wasn’t making fun of your dream. I just didn’t think it possible.”

  What? He can read minds now?

  She blinked back the hot tears suddenly threatening to spill down her face. Silly. No reason for her throat to be closing.

  Swallowing a time or two, she regained her composure. “It’s okay.”

  When he didn’t withdraw his touch and his thumb began to softly scrape her wrist, she decided now was a good time to clear the table she’d been putting off for the past two hours. Either that or give into…

  After gently tugging free, she stood, grabbed their dishes and carried them to the sink, feeling his gaze on her the whole time.

  “There are several more albums and scrapbooks back at my place and my dad’s. My grandfather loved to document things.”

  “I know.” He chuckled, scratching his temple. “Back on the island, Shep always had his camera out.”

  “Well, I can guarantee you, whatever he took is now in the albums back home.”

  “Where exactly is your home? Nevada or Colorado?”

  “Colorado,” she replied. “I stay on base when I’m in Nevada. It’s required. My home is in Telluride, about fifteen minutes from the charter business. I have my own small plane to fly back and forth between home and Nevada.”

  He motioned out the window. “Where exactly in Colorado are we now?”

  “About an hour north of Telluride by plane.”

  Nodding again, he rubbed his chin and glanced back down at the opened album. “So, you have a father, brother, sister-in-law and nephew. Any other family? Boyfriend?”

  Sam hid a smile, completely endeared to the man, trying to subtly sniff out her personal life.

  “No other family, and no boyfriends. Men seem to be intimidated by my profession, my ambition…or at the very least, my Marine status.”

  She watched as he slowly shook his head.

  “Idiots.”

  His gaze turned serious. Intense. Neither moved or spoke. Just stared. She wanted to ask if he was intimidated, but her racing heart wouldn’t allow her to voice the question.

  Finally, he rose, never breaking eye contact. “If you need me, I’m going to go chop some wood.”

  Sam nodded, wondering if it was a euphemism. “Okay.”

  She watched him turn away and head for his coat by the door. A moment later, she was alone.

  ***

  The following night, after washing the last supper dish, Sam rushed to put her coat on, keen to get outside. Judging by the frown Mitch sent her, it showed. She wasn’t trying to escape his company, although, Lord knew the past thirty hours had been trying.

  Even though they’d kept the conversations light, talked about her life, grandpa, the photo albums, they’d avoided touching as if they each had cooties. And when they did accidentally brush each other, the former flying Ace headed back out to the wood pile to make toothpicks. Today alone, he’d been out there three times.

  She’d needed the reprieves, though. The sheer magnetism of the guy kept her heart rate consistent with a cardio workout. She could only imagine how many calories he’d burned.

  Still, she wasn’t running from him. As a matter of fact, he was welcomed to join her.

  “So, where’s the fire?” he asked, watching her shrug into her coat.

  She smiled and tossed him his jacket. “Outside, sort of. Come on.”

  Without waiting, she stepped onto the porch and looked up at the sky. The Draconid meteor shower would occur the next two nights. Sam was contemplating which spot would provide the best view, the porch or dock, when Mitch appeared.

  “What’s going on?”

  She was about to answer when the first of several streaks shot overhead. “That,” she said, pointing to the night sky.

  He glanced up. “What month did you say it was?”

  “October.” She sat down, letting her feet dangle off the porch. Perfect view. First one meteor, then another shot out, playing connect-the-dots with the stars.

  Mitch dropped down next to her. “Draconids?”

  Sam pulled her gaze from the sky to settle on him. “You know about them?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “My father was a science professor.”

  She smiled while fighting back a shiver. “That explains your grasp on the stars and constellations.”

  Mitch nodded and scooted closer. “Come here. You look cold.”

  Wrapping his arm around her, he drew her against his side. They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the show unfold. Unpredictable, the Draconid meteor shower had the ability to produce either a shower or storm. Soaking in Mitch’s warmth and the beauty around her, Sam was content to sit there and see what outcome the heavens had in store this year; Sporadic streaking, or a bombardment of lines smearing the night sky in a fireworkesque display.

  Twenty minutes later, Mitch’s voice broke the silence. “Doesn’t look like it’s going to be a storm.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed, glancing at a haphazard streak in the dark sky above. “I don’t think we’re going to get more than a hundred an hour.”

  “My junior year in college there was a spectacular storm.”

  She twisted to face him. “1933?”

  “Yes. There had to be close to a thousand per hour.” He waved at the sky. “Makes this look like a sprinkle.”

  “You lucky bugger,” she said, playfully elbowing him, secretly trying to remember if her grandfather had ever mentioned Mitch’s college major.

  He n
odded and she watched as his smile slowly faded away. “Hard to believe ten years ago was actually almost eighty.”

  Once again, Sam’s throat swelled and chest tightened at the thought of what the handsome pilot must be going through. She glanced away, blinking.

  “It’s weird. Instead of thriving in their careers or fighting the war, my classmates are all dead. Long dead,” he added.

  What could she say? Nothing. She nodded and made a pretense of watching the sky. But the meteors had lost their appeal, and despite Mitch’s warmth, Sam felt chilled to the bone. She drew away, then stood, willing her voice to be steady when she spoke.

  “I’m going in. It’s getting too cold,” she claimed, heading inside before he replied.

  Guilt sucked.

  And there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Sam swiped the wetness from her face. She was used to doing. Used to finding a solution to impossibilities. But not this time.

  A fire blazed in the fireplace; its crackling welcome echoed through the cabin. She hung up her jacket and drew in several calming breaths by the time Mitch came in and shrugged out of his coat. She could feel him watching her, but she didn’t respond. Her throat was still too hot and tight.

  “Samantha, what’s wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  He cursed under his breath. “Look, if you’re blaming yourself, don’t.”

  Too late.

  Eyes stinging, she nodded and pushed past him to walk across the room. Her boots thudded the floor boards until she came to a halt in front of the fire. Drawing in another breath, she turned to face him.

  “I’m sorry, Mitch. I’m really, really sorry.”

  He straightened from the doorway, a deep frown creasing his brow as he strode closer. “It isn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it is,” she insisted, beginning to pace. “I’m the one who plucked you from your time and plopped you in the middle of mine, nearly seventy years in the future.”

  “You didn’t have a choice,” he stated quietly.

  She halted and twisted to stare at him. There was no bitterness in his expression. No censure. Nothing but warmth.

  “You don’t blame me?”

  “Blame you? For what? Saving me?” he asked, a dumbfounded look on his handsome face.

  “S-saving you?”

  “Yes,” he replied, stepping close, bent knuckles grazing her cheek on the way down to her chin. “You saved me, Samantha. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I would be dead, right?”

  She could feel every drop of blood leave her face at the horrible thought. “Y-yes.”

  “Then there you go. You saved me.”

  She’d never looked at it like that. He gazed down at her, so sure. So accepting. So unbelievably sexy and sweet.

  “But…”

  “But nothing,” he interrupted, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I’ve come to realize one way or the other, my…time on the island was over. Blame you? Hell no, Samantha. I’m grateful. Believe me, I’m very glad you flew into my life.”

  Covering the hand cupping her face, she leaned into his touch. “So am I, Mitch. So am I.”

  Her eyes slowly drifted close as she inhaled. God, he smelled great. Woodsy…like a light rain before an autumn storm.

  “Samantha…”

  He didn’t seem to like to call her Sam. But she didn’t mind. She’d never grow tired of hearing her full name spoken in his deep, sexy voice. Unable to resist the pull, she opened her eyes, and her breath promptly hitched between her chest and throat.

  Fierce hunger swirled with longing and darkened his gaze to a tell-tale aqua she was beginning to love.

  “I’ve tried to stay away—to keep my distance. But…I have to touch you…to taste you again,” he said into her opened mouth.

  Hot, firm lips teased and tempted, nibbling and tasting as warned. Sam shuddered and melted into him, improving the angle by cupping his jaw with one hand and wrapping the other up and around his shoulder. Mitch grunted and deepened the kiss.

  Yes, her soul screamed. This was what she wanted. This was missing from her life. Desire. Hunger. Consumption. Actions and emotions he extracted with ease and returned ten-fold. His kisses opened her eyes. She had stumbled through life, only existing, until now.

  Molten heat replaced the blood in her veins and increased in velocity with the pounding of her heart. No man ever brought her to this state with just a kiss.

  Hell, no man ever brought her to this state—period.

  Core wet and throbbing, body humming…she was an orgasm awaiting ignition.

  Chapter 11

  Mitch broke the kiss.

  Damn. He couldn’t get enough of Samantha. The more he took, the more he wanted.

  Sucking in air, he echoed her attempts to draw oxygen into his lungs. She fit his body, contouring, melting until they fused as one.

  A breathy gush escaped her, washing over his neck and chest as his arms encircled her quivering form. God, she was a curvy, temptress of womanly perfection. He tucked her head against his thumping chest, and concentrated on the flames licking the wood in the fireplace.

  How he empathized with the logs—engulfed, burning, wrapped in a powerful energy he couldn’t escape. Giving himself over to the scorching would be so easy…so damn easy…

  But, would she welcome more of his advances?

  Hell, the last time she opened up to him, he accused her of seduction. Of course, back then, he thought she was a spy.

  “I’m sorry, Samantha.” He brushed his lips across her warm temple and squeezed her tight. “I couldn’t have been more wrong about you.”

  She angled her head to peer up. The most heart stopping smile met his gaze and promptly stole his breath.

  “It’s okay. You had every right to doubt me. I’m just glad you realize I’m not the enemy.”

  “I do.” He traced her sweet mouth with his thumb again, longing to do more…so much more. “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you, but…I can’t hold back any longer.”

  “Good.”

  He kissed her jaw and trailed a path to her neck, trying to hold onto his dwindling control. “Good? Christ, Samantha, this is dangerous. I don’t know what kind of future I have—even if I have a future. You should tell me no.”

  “Never.”

  He drew back to stare at the enticing woman.

  “I want you, Mitch.”

  For a full two seconds his brain and heart both ceased to work.

  “And I know you feel the same.”

  Gentle fingers grasped his hand and guided his palm to her pounding heart. He inhaled sharply, saliva pooling across his tongue. The combination of erratic thumping, and firm, full breast—nipple peaked—strangled his groin with mind-blowing force.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening, and it’s probably all wrong, but I feel the attraction too,” she said, pressing closer. “See?”

  He swallowed. Oh, he saw all right. Stars. He saw stars.

  “Yes.” He cupped her breast while his thumb stroked her hard nipple. “I do.”

  She moaned, eyelids fluttering close as she cupped his hand on her chest and forced him to increase his hold. “That’s better,” her breathy whisper puffed into his hovering mouth.

  “Yes, much better.” He met her lips for another ravaging kiss.

  Velvet lips—damn, they were so soft and full, drinking him in with an erotic rhythm that sent his pulse and body to a heart-pounding altitude. He soared to heights no plane could ever reach.

  He clamped the back of her head with his other hand and deepened the kiss, angling so his tongue slipped easily into her mouth and skimmed the soft cavern. She purred. He groaned. So hot. So willing. He slid the hand down the sweet curve of her back to cup her ass clad in jeans he’d grown to envy.

  Unable to hold back, he squeezed and dragged her closer, rocking against her sweet, shuddering form. She gasped his name, and slid her hand over his erection.

  Stars, bigger, brighter bu
rst through the haze fogging his mind. “Samantha,” he murmured, reaching to still her tormenting hand. “You have to stop before I can’t.”

  She glanced up through a hazy green gaze. “Then don’t.”

  His heart rocked. “Are you sure?” He skipped his finger across her temple to brush back a soft strand of hair. “Our circumstances are beyond crazy.”

  She kissed the inside of his wrist. “I know, but what’s even crazier would be to ignore what we’re feeling. Besides, neither of us is crazy.”

  “Oh, but I am.” His lips followed the contour of her delicate jaw. He was on a mission now. Samantha was his mission. “I’m crazy about you. Delirious even.”

  “Mmm.” She brushed her mouth against his, opening up for his pleasure.

  Bold hands came up between them, palming his chest before those wicked fingers unbuttoned his shirt and tugged. He relinquished her lips and drew apart to yank off his flannel top.

  “Now this,” she said, reaching for the black T-shirt he’d donned from the duffle bag she brought him.

  He chuckled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Arms crisscrossed, he grabbed the hem and ripped the shirt up and over his head. Her gasp of approval rippled all the way to his toes.

  “Happy birthday to me,” she whispered before warm hands slid up and down his body in a frenzy of caresses his libido classified as hot—very, very hot.

  Then those talented, wicked fingers cupped his jaw and drew his mouth down to meet hers in a devouring, almost desperately needy kiss. She moaned, her hands once again roaming over his now heated flesh.

  They kissed with renewed vigor, but Mitch needed more. Much more. As if sensing this, Samantha stepped back, and in one fluid motion, ripped off her shirt and stood before him in a black lacy bra, showcasing her assets with groin tightening results.

  Before he could move, she drew the cups together, increasing her mouthwatering cleavage as she unhooked the front clasp and two glorious mounds bounced free.

  No, happy birthday to me.