Command Performance

by Sara Jane Stone

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hunter said. “I’ve got her under control. You just have to spread the word to keep your mouth shut if she asks about how I got shot.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll tell Jed and Mike,” Connor replied. “Shoot me a text or give a shout if you need more help.”

  Hunter hung up the phone and focused on the program open in front of him. From the looks of it, Miss Maggie had started work on her blog. The header across the top featured the picture of his team on horseback, their faces mostly covered with handkerchiefs. Below the picture ran the headline: Meet America’s Cowboy Heroes.

  He scrolled down. The rest of the page was blank. No entries yet. He minimized the window and scanned her desktop until a document labeled Promotion Deadlines caught his attention. Opening the file, he found a list of dates, including this coming Sunday. It read: Launch blog. Publisher eager to get it up and running.

  Hunter closed the computer, careful to shut it down first. Glancing at his watch, he saw the digital numbers change to midnight. It was officially Tuesday. He had five days to convince her to change the title of her blog. He knew the colonel would prefer he shut the entire thing down, but knowing Maggie, she’d dig in her heels. Controlling the content—and the author—was his best option.

  10

  BUZZ. BUZZ.

  What was that noise? Maggie opened her eyes, then quickly closed them to block out the sunlight pouring in through the uncovered windows. She’d been so exhausted last night she’d forgotten to pull the curtains when she’d fallen into bed. Turning away from the light, she opened one eye to look at her alarm clock. Six in the morning.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  The doorbell. Someone was at her front door. Groggily, she pushed back the covers and stood, sliding her feet into her waiting slippers. Shuffling to the door, she removed her gray robe from the hook and wrapped it around her white tank and gray yoga pants. Her hair was probably sticking out in a million directions, but right now she didn’t care. She wanted to figure out who was at her door and get a cup of coffee, not necessarily in that order. She stumbled out of her room and made her way down the front stairs.

  Maggie froze on the bottom step. Hunter, her self-invited houseguest, was already at the door, fully dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt as if he’d been up for hours. For all she knew about his morning habits, maybe he woke with the sun. She watched him peer through the peephole.

  “Are you expecting a delivery?” he asked.

  “UPS is here?” Her brow furrowed. Why would the UPS man be on her doorstep now? She needed coffee. She’d never been able to think straight first thing in the morning without caffeine.

  “Not UPS. Some guy with a box.” He turned to her, frowning as the doorbell buzzed again. “Want me to send him away?”

  “No, I—”

  “Maggie?” She’d been about to say she could handle it when Derrick’s voice interrupted.

  “Oh, crap, I know him,” she said, closing her eyes briefly. “Go ahead and let him in. Bring him into the kitchen. I need coffee.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded more amused than put off at playing butler.

  Resigned to an awkward early morning conversation with her ex, Maggie walked past Hunter with as much dignity as she could muster in her robe and slippers. Of course, Derrick would pleasantly knock on her door when she looked and felt her worst. Morning. The man was a self-centered fool. A smart, caring person would never try to woo her before coffee. Or think he had a chance at winning her back after she’d caught him with his pants down.

  She pushed through the swinging door leading to the kitchen, and the smell hit her. Coffee. Freshly brewed, hot and steaming. Maggie smiled. Hunter must have made it at whatever ungodly hour he’d risen. Apparently, not all morning people were brainless twits. Just Derrick.

  “Good morning, Maggie.” Derrick ambled into the kitchen, set the box on the counter and leaned over to kiss her. She turned her mouth away and let him peck her cheek before stepping away. Hunter walked in just in time to witness the kiss. He raised an eyebrow. Maggie mouthed thank you for the coffee over her ex-fiancé’s shoulder. Her professional self might not want Hunter here, but since he’d insisted on staying, she had every intention of using him to send Derrick away for good.

  “I brought you muffins,” Derrick said. “Your favorite. Low-fat vanilla pear from that bakery you like in the city.”

  Low fat had never been her favorite. She preferred cinnamon buns dripping with sugary frosting. She’d switched to reduced-calorie food after she’d accepted his proposal two months ago. Apparently his memory didn’t go back that far. And if he’d brought them from Manhattan, that meant he’d picked them up yesterday. Low fat and stale, not exactly the way to a girl’s heart.

  Maggie sipped her coffee and studied Derrick. He’d shaved that morning, styled his blond hair into the usual side part that made him look like something out of a country club advertisement and put on a blue power suit.

  “Meeting later?” she asked over the rim of her coffee, taking a sip before she bit out the words with one of your students.

  “Yes, but I had to see you first after the way we left things last time.” He glanced at Hunter, standing with his arms folded across his chest by the door. “I didn’t realize you’d hired a bodyguard.”

  “I didn’t.” She plucked a muffin from the box and walked over to Hunter’s side. “He’s a friend. Derrick, this is Hunter. Hunter, meet Derrick.” She looked up at Hunter, silently begging him to play along. “Muffin?”

  Hunter smiled down at her. “Love one.” He plucked the poor excuse for a breakfast treat from her hand and took a bite. “I can see why these are your favorite. Loads of flavor.”

  Maggie stifled a giggle and glanced across the room to where Derrick stood frozen, his jaw slightly open. Turning her gaze away from her Mr. Country Club ex, Maggie looked at Hunter. Derrick might be handsome, but the Ranger with the bedroom eyes was 100 percent sexier. “Tastes better with coffee. Great job, by the way. Nice and strong.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took another bite of the muffin.

  “Maggie, we need to talk.” Derrick’s voice was strained, bordering on shrill.

  “Whatever you need to say to Little Miss Maggie here, you can say in front of me,” Hunter said.

  Okay, maybe that was taking things a little too far. She wanted his presence to send Derrick packing for good, but Little Miss Maggie? No one who knew her would call her that. Derrick would see right through their little charade.

  But then Hunter reached his free arm out, wrapped it around her waist and pulled her close, his hand spanning the curve between her rib cage and hip. Maggie nearly dropped her coffee mug. She knew it was a yeah-she’s-mine-now move, but her body didn’t care why he’d touched her again. Beneath her gray robe, she felt her nipples harden, remembering the way he’d teased her breasts last night on the porch.

  Before she could protest or step away, he leaned down and nuzzled the back of her neck through her hair. He hit the spot that he knew would send her to heaven. He knew because she’d told him so on Saturday night. Memories of his mouth, his touch, the feel of him inside her, coursed through every nerve of her body, settling between her legs.

  Maggie closed her eyes. Maybe it didn’t matter what he called her. After witnessing this little scene, not even boring-in-bed Derrick would miss the fact that she’d been naked and intimate with her new friend.

  Hunter’s breath tickled the nape of her neck and a little moan escaped her lips. She wanted to throw off her clothes, wrap her body around him and tell Derrick to get the hell out of her kitchen unless he wanted to watch her come on the kitchen table.

  Only she couldn’t do that. Her scumbag ex stood five feet away and Hunter was her army liaison. She wasn’t sure which one posed the bigger threat, but she suspected it was Hunter. Derrick had never sent her falling into head-over-heels-in-lust territory. He’d been the safe choice. Hunter should have a red danger sign across his
chest.

  Maggie stepped away, letting his arm fall from her waist. Instantly, she missed his touch. “Hunter, can you give us a minute?”

  “Sure.” He moved toward the screened porch, smiling at Derrick. “Thanks for bringing breakfast.” He popped the rest of the muffin into his mouth as he stepped from the room.

  “You’re seeing someone?” Derrick asked, incredulous. “How long has this been going on?”

  Like you have any right to ask. But she didn’t want a fight about who cheated first. She knew the answer to that one. She wanted Derrick to leave and never come back.

  “I can’t believe you’re seeing someone else,” Derrick continued.

  “Not exactly.” Her head and body still spinning from Hunter’s touch, Maggie struggled to find the words to explain her Saturday-night-fling-turned-liaison to the man she’d cast out of her life last week. “We met recently.”

  “Who is this guy? What do you know about him?” Derrick demanded, his hand cutting through the air to indicate the Ranger lounging on her porch.

  “He’s a friend, Derrick.” She drained her coffee and went for a refill. “What are you doing here? I thought we were done.”

  “I want you back. I know I’ve made some mistakes.”

  Maggie snorted.

  “I’m not always the best with romantic words,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “But I know you, Maggie.”

  She looked at the stubborn expression on his face. Not pleading or begging, but pure determination.

  “We’re right for each other,” he said. “I understand your career drive and your need to plan and organize everything. I understand you.”

  What about the me who wants mind-blowing sex? What about the me who wants more than stable and reliable? Looking at Derrick, she felt the smothering weight of all her responsibilities. A future with Derrick would not offer the relief she craved. The break she’d gone searching for Saturday night? It wasn’t enough. The sex with Hunter had been a temporary fix. She realized that now. She possessed a wild side that was at odds with her need for control. Maggie wasn’t sure how to resolve her inner turmoil, but she knew for a fact that lying, cheating Derrick was not the answer.

  She downed another mouthful of coffee. “We belong together,” Derrick continued.

  “No, Derrick, we don’t,” she said flatly.

  “That man out there,” Derrick said, taking a step toward her. Maggie backed away. “He doesn’t fit in your world, Maggie. He’s not someone you take to a five-star restaurant, and you deserve five stars.”

  “No, I don’t.” Her hands tightened around her coffee mug as the anger she’d felt the day she’d found him with his pants down resurfaced. “I deserve a man who cares about me enough to remain faithful. I deserve a man who wants to be the responsible one—”

  Derrick let out a mirthless laugh. “You would never let anyone else take charge, Maggie.”

  Maybe she didn’t know how yet, but she could learn. She’d let Hunter take control in bed, hadn’t she? Of course, she’d panicked and run away while he slept. Still, it was a first step toward finding what she wanted.

  “And orgasms,” Maggie continued, pretending she hadn’t heard Derrick’s interruption. “I deserve orgasms. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Orgasms?” Derrick looked baffled as if her pleasure was a foreign concept. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think you should go.”

  “But, Maggie, we’re engaged. We’ve told everyone.”

  “Not anymore. We’re done.” The anger faded, leaving behind regret and irritation. But she wasn’t only annoyed with Derrick. She was the one who had been a walk down the aisle away from marrying him, all because she thought she needed a man who would let her take charge of everything 24/7. And that wasn’t Derrick’s fault. That was on her.

  She’d been too afraid of falling in love. Letting someone in was risky. It could turn her entire life upside down. But settling for common career interests and lousy sex? That was worse.

  “I think you should take some time to think this over,” Derrick said.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I gave the ring back to you and I told you we were through. I meant what I said. Now please leave, before I ask my friend out there to play bodyguard and show you out. And you can take the muffins.”

  * * *

  RESTING HIS ELBOWS on his knees, Hunter leaned forward, watching Maggie and the Muffin Man. It didn’t take a highly trained soldier to figure out that this wasn’t a friendly thanks-for-breakfast conversation. Maggie looked stiff and tense. If she’d been a man with a weapon, he would have been worried. But he doubted she’d hurl her coffee mug at her early morning visitor, who looked more like a spoiled child who’d been told “no” than an adult.

  Muffin Man? More like Muffin Boy.

  Hunter smiled. A spoiled, rich boy was no match for him. While Muffin Boy had been perfecting his golf game, Hunter had completed the physically and mentally challenging Ranger School, hauling around ninety pounds of gear for twenty-plus hours a day. Not that he was competing for Maggie. He couldn’t have her any more than Derrick could—especially after breaking into her computer last night. Actions like that didn’t exactly inspire friendly feelings, never mind romantic ones.

  Had her ex been after her heart? He watched Derrick through the glass windows. The man advanced toward Maggie. Hunter stood, ready to interrupt their private conversation, a rush of protectiveness pulsing through him. If Muffin Boy so much as laid a finger on Maggie, Hunter swore he’d tear the guy to pieces. But Maggie stepped away and Derrick stood still, taking the hint. Maggie wasn’t about to let her ex invade her personal space.

  Hunter sank back into his chair. She’d let him close. He was still hard from the feel of her body pressed against him. If they hadn’t had an audience, he would have run his hand under her robe up to her breasts and kissed that special spot on her neck until she lost control of her senses. But if Derrick hadn’t shown up on Maggie’s doorstep, she’d never have let Hunter touch her. He’d known the minute she’d picked up the muffin that she was using him to scare off her visitor.

  The thought of being used—first for orgasms, then for her book and now to scare away the man she’d been trying to forget Saturday night—should have discouraged his erection like a jump into ice-cold water, but it didn’t. Hunter shifted in his chair, silently cursing himself for not wearing something other than jeans. It seemed the lower half of his body wanted her and didn’t care about why she’d let him wrap his arm around her and pull her close.

  Being used? Yeah, it should have pissed him off. But Maggie was a means to an end for him, also. He wasn’t here to win her heart or a place in her bed—though he certainly wouldn’t turn down a trip to her bedroom.

  Hunter watched Maggie set down her coffee, pick up the muffin box and shove it into Derrick’s chest. That was his cue, he decided, heading for the door to the kitchen. They’d had time to talk. Now it was time for Muffin Boy to walk out the front door. Hunter fully intended to help him find his way if he didn’t head for the exit in five, four, three, two—

  Derrick set the box on the counter and turned to the swinging door just as Hunter stepped into the room.

  “I mean it, Derrick,” Maggie said. “No more phone calls, no more harassing my friends at work. Nothing. This is the end.”

  “Goodbye, Maggie,” Derrick said, one hand on the door. He glanced over at Hunter. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  The door swung closed behind Derrick, and Hunter turned to Maggie.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said, slumping into a chair at the kitchen counter. “I probably should have told you my ex might show up.”

  “And ruin the surprise? I only met the guy for a few minutes, but he didn’t seem like your type.”

  “He said the same thing about you.”

  Hunter saw a soft smile on her lips. Pleased she didn’t look crestfallen over Derrick anymore, he went over to her fri
dge and opened it up.

  “He’s probably right,” he said, rummaging through the meager contents of the shelves. The startling need he’d felt to jump in and rescue her from her ex had left him unsettled. Why should he be concerned about her relationship with her former fiancé? She wasn’t his family.

  But the whys didn’t matter. The fact was he cared, and he needed to make damn certain she took the necessary steps to protect herself. “Have you thought about taking out a restraining order against your early morning visitor?”

  “For Derrick? I don’t think that’s necessary. He won’t be back.”

  Hunter pulled out a half-full carton of eggs and checked the date. “Rejection can make a man do stupid things, especially if he thinks the woman he loves has moved on to someone else.”

  “Derrick doesn’t love me.”

  “He wanted to marry you,” Hunter said, surprised by the certainty in her voice. “And correct me if I’m wrong here, but you said yes.”

  Maggie shook her head. “We have similar interests. He’s a political science professor with a focus on peace treaties.”

  Hunter raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s more interesting than it sounds,” she said.

  “That’s your criteria for marriage? If I was going to commit to ‘until death do us part,’ I’d want more than similar interests.”

  He set the eggs on the counter.

  Maggie sighed. “I thought what was between us would be enough. But now I realize I need more. I need...”

  Hunter sensed she was struggling to find the right words.

  “I need to trust the man I marry,” she continued.

  “You didn’t trust Muffin Boy?”

  Maggie laughed, but didn’t smile. “I did until I caught him with one of his research assistants.”

  He’d cheated on her. Maggie wasn’t someone who trusted easily and the bastard had taken that trust and destroyed it. Part of him wished Muffin Boy had given him an excuse to land a punch on his pretty-boy face. Hell, if Muffin Boy showed up again, he’d strip down to his boxers before answering the door. Let the bastard think he’d just come from Maggie’s bed.