Summer with a Soldier
Makenna Jameison
He’ll heat things up in the bedroom all night long…
Pastry Chef Erin Walters is in Hawaii for the trip of a lifetime—and her best friend’s destination wedding. Her mind is on baking the perfect wedding cake and possibly securing a job for the summer with the renowned chef at the resort she’s staying at. Not on her mind? A summer fling with a hot mystery man.
Mike Sawyer is back from three tours of duty in Afghanistan and ready for a little summer fun. Sure, he’s got a new job lined up, but chasing after the pretty little thing he ran into at the resort pool seems like as good a plan as any. Until he realizes she’s not just some random woman he’ll never see again.
Sparks fly as these old friends heat things up, but is Mike after anything other than a little summer fun?
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Makenna Jameison.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
ALSO BY MAKENNA JAMEISON
SOLDIER SERIES ROMANCE NOVELLAS
Christmas with a Soldier
Valentine from a Soldier
In the Arms of a Soldier
Return of a Soldier
HEARTS ABLAZE: MEN IN UNIFORM
A Marine for Christmas
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Chapter 1
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and groaned. I had to be there in five minutes, so basically, I was already late. Never mind that the restaurant was only a few steps away from my hotel room—well, a few steps to the elevator, and a quick walk through the lobby. But anyway. My hair was still wet, my makeup not finished. At least I was already dressed, in a cute yellow sundress and flat sandals. Perfect for a tropical location, if I do say so myself. But seriously, why did I agree to meet Abby for breakfast at 9:00 a.m. again? This was supposed to be a vacation. A working vacation—sort of. But going out drinking and dancing until midnight does not bode well for early morning plans. Even if they are with your best friend. And breakfast could’ve easily been postponed, if I wasn’t meeting the head chef at the resort right afterward at 10:00 a.m.
And I’m gonna be late.
I quickly sprayed some “beach waves” spray into my hair to give it some texture as it air dried—totally crazy since I would be going to an actual beach later on. The resort I was staying at was in Hawaii for God’s sake. But I needed to look presentable now. The coconut aroma hung in the air around me as I swiped on a little black mascara, and then the alarm on my phone chirped, alerting me that yes, it already was 9:00. I grabbed my purse and keycard from the dresser, double-checked my reflection in the mirror, and hurried out the door. At least I could run since I was wearing flat sandals, right? No one else was up and about this early, so I had the elevator to myself as I rode down to the lobby. I pulled my compact out of my purse and quickly applied some pink lipstick. I checked my reflection in the tiny mirror, admiring the golden tan I’d gotten over the past few days here in Hawaii. A light smattering of freckles had appeared on my nose, the same as they did every summer, but it didn’t bother me like it did when I was younger. It gave me a little bit of character. Or something. My light brown hair had blonde highlights throughout (courtesy of hours spent at the salon, not mother nature, thank you very much), and my light green eyes sparkled. I could get used to the island way of life, I thought with a grin. Well, except for this early morning wake-up call.
My phone beeped in my purse, and I pulled it out, noticing a new message:
Change of plans. Let’s meet at the outdoor bistro instead.
And now I’m going to be even later to breakfast. A little bit of warning would have been nice. Like even ten minutes ago. Honestly, Abby is so indecisive sometimes. And don’t even get me started on her wedding cake. How was I supposed to bake her wedding cake when she keeps changing her mind about what she wants? I should’ve made her sign a contract or something like with all my other clients. Then it would be there, in writing, and I wouldn’t be rushing around like a mad woman two days before the wedding.
The elevator dinged as it reached the ground level, and the doors opened. I crossed the open-air lobby (I seriously love that about Hawaii) and walked down the trellised path toward the outdoor bistro, admiring the breathtaking views of the ocean. Birds chirped in the trees, the sun shone brightly down—I mean it was pretty much movie picture perfect. Every single resort employee even paused to say good morning, have a nice day, etc. as I walked along. I’d probably be in a great mood all the time, too, if I got to live in Hawaii. This was seriously heaven. The pool sparkled in the morning sun as I hurried along, and I decided I should definitely spend some time there today, too, maybe with a tropical cocktail in hand. I rounded the corner, beneath a couple of palm trees and beside some breathtaking bird-of-paradise flowers, inhaling the intoxicating scent. I glanced longingly back at the inviting water, deciding pool time needed to come sooner rather than later, when I collided into a solid, six-foot-one wall of muscle. I gasped as our bodies met, my breasts pushing into his rock-hard chest, my mind whirling as the scent of his aftershave and something distinctively male surrounded me. A moment later I was falling backwards, the momentum of his stride almost knocking me over.
Strong arms reached around me, one tight around my shoulders, the other wrapping firmly around my waist, as our legs tangled together and I reached out for anything to grab onto. My fingertips brushed against the soft cotton of the tee shirt he was wearing, feeling the ridges of his lean muscles beneath the fabric, but before I could grab hold he was already securely holding me in his embrace and straightening us back up. “Are you okay?” he asked in a deep voice, a hint of a sparkle in his dark brown eyes. Was he laughing at me? I wasn’t quite sure, but I was momentarily distracted by his masculine face gazing down at me—all chiseled features, full lips, those twinkling dark eyes, and dark hair cropped short.
He’d loosened his grip, but his hands still rested lightly on me, making sure I had regained my balance. And I was now holding onto his muscular biceps. Nice. And completely embarrassing. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a blush creep over my face as I released him and stepped back. “I wasn’t paying attention, and I was in a hurry since I’m running late….”
“As long as you’re not hurt, I can’t say that I’m sorry that I ran into you—you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen all morning.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked up into his dark eyes. Was he for real? “That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. Definitely the worst line ever uttered this early in the morning.”
“Ouch,” he said, wincing, as he jokingly brought his hand to his heart.
“You look tough; I’m sure you can take it,” I joked with a smile.
He laughed, and I noticed the tiny crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He must be only a few years older than me—twenty-nine, thirty at most. His face was clean-shaven, but I could
detect the hint of dark stubble on his strong jawline. His snug tee shirt hugged his athletic body, and his camo cargo shorts hung perfectly from his trim waist. This guy must be a runner. Or a professional baseball player. Or something. He looked like his mission in life was to stay fit. And now he probably noticed that I was staring at him, I thought as I once again met his gaze. His mouth was quirked in a slight smile, and I knew I’d been busted.
“All right,” he finally said, his mouth breaking into a smile. “I can admit when I’m defeated—for now. Maybe I’ll see you around…?”
“Erin,” I said, holding out my hand.
A flash of recognition sparked in his eyes, but a second later it was gone. I wondered what that was about, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen him around this week. Although I’d been out with my friends the past couple of nights, I’d been dutifully playing maid-of-honor to Abby. I certainly hadn’t been chatting up any of the attractive males around here—not that there was a shortage of them. Maybe he’d seen me with her? I was pretty sure I’d remember this particular guy though. Mystery Man was the cutest guy I’d seen around here, and I’d definitely noticed a fair share of good-looking guys at the beach and bars over the past couple of days. Maybe I’d run into him sometime later on. Abby’s wedding was still two days away, and the rehearsal dinner wasn’t until tomorrow night. There was plenty of time for the pool, the beach….
His warm hand wrapped around mine with a firm grip as he shook my hand, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. “Mike,” he said.
“Well Mike, sorry again to have run into you—literally. But I’ve got to go meet my friend,” I said, gently extracting my hand from his grasp. I was instantly sorry at the loss of his strong fingers wrapped around mine, but it’s not like I could stand here shaking hands with him all day. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” I stepped around him before waiting for an answer and flashed a small smile of regret. “Bye.”
“All right, see you later. Hey!” he suddenly called out behind me.
I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder.
“Enjoy breakfast with Abby,” he added with a wink.
My mouth dropped open, and I turned back to face him, now completely confused. How did he know I was meeting Abby? I glanced toward the direction of the bistro, wondering if she’d somehow appeared without my noticing, but nope, no one else was around. And even if she was there, how would he know her name? Or that we were meeting for breakfast?
“I’m Jordan’s brother,” he confessed as I once again met his gaze, not giving me a chance to question him.
A flash of shock and recognition suddenly coursed through me, sending shivers up my spine and warmth over my skin. A moment, years earlier, when I’d first seen Mike Sawyer: Abby, Jordan, and I were hanging out in Abby’s and my dorm room after finals. Jordan was packed and ready to go, his older brother on his way to help him move out. Jordan and Abby were flirting and teasing while I flipped through the channels, searching for something decent to watch before Jordan left and Abby and I met up with some friends off-campus for lunch. When a knock sounded on the door, I assumed it was the R.A. or something. Our friends may have knocked, but they would have immediately waltzed right in. And even though I knew Jordan’s older brother would be coming, I was expecting a scrawny college-age guy like him. Someone in shorts and a baseball cap. I wasn’t expecting the six-plus foot tall man standing in front of me. He wasn’t scruffy like the college guys, he was put-together and pulled-together.
I was literally speechless. His gaze met mine, and I’m pretty sure I turned bright red as I stood there tongue-tied and trying not to stare. While he was perfectly polite and asked for Jordan, he also was completely uninterested. He barely even glanced my way as we all helped Jordan gather his things. And while Mike was around every now and then after that, showing up at the odd football game or sporting event, and I did notice him watching me a few years later at graduation, he was always polite but indifferent. I had a boyfriend by then and didn’t give him much thought. Abby and I graduated, and that was that.
Flash forward four years later, at my best friend’s destination wedding, and here he was. Bigger and stronger and even better looking than ever.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer, his voice slightly gruff. “I didn’t realize it was you until you said your name was Erin. You look, uh, a little different than back in college. In a good way,” he added. “I mean, not that you didn’t look good then….”
I laughed and shook my head. “Well, that was a while ago,” I said, giving him a small smile, trying to will away the flush creeping across my cheeks. “And don’t worry, I didn’t recognize you either. You look a little different, too.” That was probably the understatement of a lifetime. Although he was attractive then, he was smoking hot now. And wasn’t Jordan’s brother in the military or something? I thought he wasn’t even coming to the wedding because his leave didn’t come through. And that, I realized, explained Mike’s perfectly toned physique. The shorter hair, the muscles—he’d bulked up over the years, and in all the right ways. Even his face looked different now—all sharp contours and chiseled features. If I’d thought he’d been grown up before, that didn’t even compare to now.
“Yeah, I’ve been gone for a while,” he said with an easy shrug. “I know you’re running late. How about if we catch up later?”
“Uh, sure,” I replied, still somewhat in shock at seeing him again.
“It was good to see you, Erin.”
“It was good to see you, too, Mike,” I agreed, turning to continue on my way. “Bye,” I called out over my shoulder.
He was still staring at me as I walked away, and I suddenly felt exposed in my lightweight sundress, as if his eyes were tracing what lay beneath and he could see all of me. I was aware of the sway of my hips as I walked, the fabric of my dress brushing against my legs. You look different, he’d said, I recalled with a smile. I’m sure I did. College consisted of jeans and a tee shirt. Minimal makeup. Hair in a ponytail. I’m sure I had on an oversized sweatshirt at the chilly autumn football games. Now I was tanned, toned, and in a skimpy sundress that my body filled out in ways it definitely hadn’t when I was younger.
It was way too early in the morning to be running into ex-crushes. Never mind that I had eventually moved past that first awkward meeting of ours years ago. My nerves were suddenly on high alert the moment I realized who he was. I recalled the wall of muscle I’d collided into and the way he’d effortlessly caught me as I fell. I’d practically been drinking him in as my eyes slid over his body. And to find out that I knew him? That his brother was marrying my best friend in a couple of days? I needed to get myself in check, stat, if I wanted to be able to look any of them in the eyes again.
I pulled open the door to the restaurant when another thought washed over me, one that left me instantly elated. Sure, I was still attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? But this time it wasn’t the unrequited crush of a schoolgirl. He’d been flirting with me, too.
Chapter 2
I tossed my purse into the booth and slid in, glancing around the bistro. Abby still wasn’t here, despite my delay with Mike, so I checked my phone and saw that Abby had texted to say she’d be a few minutes late:
Jordan and I got caught up in something. Be there in a few.
Caught up in something? Yeah, right. That was Abby-speak for, “My fiancé and I were tangled in the sheets while you got up early and hauled ass over here.”
I sighed as I laid my phone back down on the table. I should’ve known she’d never be here on time. Abby and I were both twenty-six, best friends since Kindergarten when we’d stood beside each other in line during class. Erin Walters came right before Abby Wyeth, so it was destiny, as we liked to joke years later. Our lockers were next to each other in high school, and when we’d decided to go to the same college, we’d eagerly filled out our roommate applications requesting one another. We’d returned to our hometown in California after college,
and after two years doing office work that I hated, I’d started working at a bakery in town.
I found my calling baking decadent pastries and towering wedding cakes. I’d always enjoyed baking when I was younger but had never dreamed of making a career out of it. After I baked macarons in a rainbow of pastels for a friend’s baby shower, the owner of the fanciest bakery in town, who happened to be a guest, took note and offered me a job. Flash forward two years later, and I was happier than I could have ever imagined. The only thing better would be to open my own bakery, where I got to call all the shots and had free reign over the kitchen. Someday.
“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Abby repeated as she slipped into the booth across from me, face flushed and hint of a smile on her lips.
Right. As if I didn’t know why she was late.
“So…you and Jordan were caught up with something, hmmm?” I teased. “Maybe some last-minute wedding details?”
“Yeah, sure, something like that,” she said with a grin. “Just, uh, rehearsing for the wedding night.”
“Oh my God, you’re too much,” I said with a laugh.
Abby giggled and tossed her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Anyway, have you eaten yet? I’m starving. Let’s order coffee and some food, and then we can go meet the head chef.”
“And you’re sure it’s not a problem if I use the kitchen to bake your wedding cake?”
“Please, with as much money as my parents are throwing at the resort for this wedding, the least they can do is let you use the kitchen!” Abby said with a laugh. “I mean seriously, we have one hundred and fifty guests who are all staying here. Plus the catering, the florist, the makeup artist—all provided by them.”
Summer with a Soldier (Soldier Series Romance Novellas Book 5) Page 1
