Saving Me

by Bella Juarez

  It had been almost a month since he’d filled out his profile and described his perfect woman.

  “What?” He glanced at his boss.

  “Where are you meeting?”

  “Black Swan Inn.”

  “The bed and breakfast? Are you serious? Are you that sure of yourself?”

  Mike shrugged. “I know how to get what I want, but that’s not why I asked to meet her there.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  Mike grinned mischievously. “It’s haunted.”

  Chapter Two

  Mike watched the spring flowers dance over the expansive lawn from the eastern part of the wraparound porch surrounding the historic mansion. He’d seen three different episodes of ghost hunting shows featuring Victoria’s Black Swan Inn, nestled on the northwest side of San Antonio by the meandering Salado Creek. Pecan and oak trees had stood a one-hundred-and-forty-year watch over the sprawling thirty-five acres surrounding the antebellum-style mansion. In daylight, the stately white columns framing the light-pink mansion made one feel hurled back in time to pre-statehood Texas. Back in the day, it would have taken a couple of hours to get to downtown San Antonio on horseback or carriage. Mike, with his eye for vivid detail, could see Sam Houston ride up to the front door and hand his reins to one of the many liveried servants who’d tended the house.

  “Can I get you another one, sir?”

  Mike glanced at his watch. He’d made reservations, not so much in hopes he’d get lucky, but because he wanted to spend the night in a haunted mansion. If everything went right, maybe he’d convince his date to keep him company overnight. But, so far, his perfect woman was far from it. In fact, his patience slipped away with every minute she made him wait. An hour late. His thoughts shifted to someone he’d made wait all night for him while he wondered if his date would even show. He shook his head in disgust. This had been too good to be true.

  No such thing as the perfect woman. I should’ve known better.

  “Yes. Please.” He turned his gaze back to the pecan tree branches swaying in the late spring breeze.

  The person attending him went off to get him his fourth beer as he sat fuming in one of the old rockers lining the porch. He thought about what a mistake this whole thing had been. He’d hoped maybe whoever showed up could ease the loneliness consuming his life. Even though he had enough girlfriends to keep him company, their companionship left him empty and aching for the something he saw with Aaron and Tom. Since his last deployment to Afghanistan, he’d all but quit dating, ready to settle down and find the fulfillment and happiness eluding him.

  Rapid footsteps tapping on the wooden floor drew him out of his pity party. He shoved his empty beer bottle toward the edge of the table. He wasn’t in any mood for conversation—he just wanted another drink. Not bothering to glance up, he sat waiting for the next frosty bottle to take the place of the one he’d emptied. When it didn’t happen, he became downright irritated at having to wait for something as simple as a cold beer. Before he could stand and unleash his frustration on the individual he felt staring at him, he got his first whiff of something expensive. The spicy floral scent made him pause and glance over his shoulder to get his first full view of the person standing behind him.

  As he stared, he slowly rose to his feet. With every inch he gained to his six three height, his heart sped up and his jaw went slack in mute surprise.

  Oh. My. God.

  Her long, chocolate-colored hair was almost bronze against the black satin of her jacket and seemed softer than in any picture he’d seen of her. His eyes mapped over her astonished face and down to full-rounded breasts swathed in a form-fitting black shirt. The wedged heels she wore made her legs go on forever in her jeans. Snapping his jaw shut as his mouth watered, the sight of the dangerous curves he’d ached to touch up close rocked his world. He pictured himself wrapping her long hair around his hand and pulling her face close to his as he bent to kiss the pouty lips haunting him for so long. Her big brown eyes mirrored his own shock as they stared at one another.

  “Angel?”

  “You….” she whispered.

  This blind date had to be some kind of elaborate, cruel joke. Michael Brannan had single-handedly caused her the worst humiliation in her life. In an instant, she vividly recalled the laughter and whispers directed at her as the mean girls made her last month of high school the worst sort of hell. Blinking, she watched in horror as he walked toward her. At any minute, her already-frayed nerves would snap. So many emotions converged on her at once: the trauma of high school, the stress of her hectic work schedule, and the terror of an unknown stalker. Seeing the boy who’d broken her heart—making it impossible to trust men—almost put her over the edge. From the time she’d met Michael in their freshman English class, she’d had a huge crush on the ginger-haired football star, and he’d humiliated her in front of the entire senior class.

  “Angel? Is that really you?”

  She stumbled back as he moved closer.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she blurted.

  “I’m meeting someone. What are you doing—”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “I don’t know her name. It’s supposed be a blind date. Why?”

  “Oh, hell no! Not again! Not you…anybody but you.”

  He grabbed her as she turned away. While Michael touching her had been something she’d longed for the entire time they’d been in high school, right now it made her white hot with fury. Without thinking, she spun around, balled her fist, and punched him as hard as she could. In her hurt and rage, she snarled, “You son of a bitch!”

  As she drew her arm back, when she tried to yank free, her Pandora bracelet caught and broke, spilling the charms all over the wooden porch floor. Michael’s eyes widened, and his gaze followed the broken jewelry as it rolled away.

  “Angel, I’m sorry. I deserve that,” he said as his hold slackened.

  “I hate you!” she screamed, breaking free and rearing back again, the jewelry forgotten.

  The cobalt eyes that had charmed her back in the day now sparked with dangerous anger. He caught her wrist in a death grip and yanked her closer, causing her to lose her balance. Measuring six feet in five-inch heels, she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. She’d tried to forget how tall and strong he was. In an instant, the powerful, taut football player who could make her pussy damp when he’d pull her against him in a light, friendly hug came back to her with sharp clarity. Was it possible he’d gotten stronger over the years?

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he growled. “You owe me a date. After making me wait for an hour, you will see this thing through. Am I clear?”

  No man had ever talked to her in such a tone. Sucking in a breath, she fought the impact of his sharp glare. A sudden surge of arousal dampened her panties and shocked her. She hated this bastard with every fiber of her being. If her stalker showed up with a chainsaw, it would be a close call as to who she’d choose to spend the rest of the night with. Her traitorous body shook with excitement when his nostrils flared and his demeanor hardened even more.

  What the hell had gotten into her?

  When he eased his grip, she stumbled against his chest and realized he’d been holding her upright. Grabbing his shirt, she pushed on his chest to right herself. The trembling of the rock-hard muscles under his dress shirt made her pause a moment. Holding her hand against his chest, she stole a glance at him and saw he watched her closely. His rapid heartbeat under her palm gave her a familiar sense of control. She recognized the captivation in his eyes as his hard bearing softened. Licking her lips, she curled her fingers to avoid touching his Adam’s apple as it moved when he swallowed hard. When she lowered her hand, his shoulders tensed.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

  Stepping back, she shook her aching wrist and forced a charming smile. “Fine. One hour is all I have time for.”

  “Huh,” he grunted, “we’ll see.”

  Graspin
g her elbow, he spun her around and walked her inside the mansion. The place where he touched burned through the jacket she wore. Her attraction to him had reemerged in an unexpected way. Men had fawned over her since she’d become a supermodel, and she hadn’t experienced one who wasn’t dazzled by her beauty and allure. His restraint challenged her, and, more than anything, she wanted to make him lose his precarious self-discipline.

  They joined other patrons sitting at quiet candlelit tables in an intimate dining room. When she reached for her chair, he brushed her back and pulled it out for her. Her breath caught, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. The smallest contact with him set her on fire. She had to remember she hated him with every inch of her being and made a pact with herself to make this the most difficult hour he’d ever experienced in life. It took a couple of sips of wine before they spoke to one another.

  “Angel….”

  She glanced at her watch. “You have fifty-three minutes.”

  Does he think I’m kidding? Insulted when he smiled and shook his head, she waited for him to continue.

  “I know saying I’m sorry will never be enough, but I want you to know I regret what I did, and I really am sorry. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to say it.”

  “Well, since you’ve cleared your conscience, can I go?”

  “If you want to, but I wish you’d stay and let me try to make it up to you somehow.”

  Twitching when he brushed her hand with his fingers, she stared at him for a moment. He knitted his brows, the confidence radiating from him since the first day they’d spoken evaporating in an instant. She couldn’t tell if the wine or his touch made her go soft, but his plea seemed genuine and heartfelt.

  She wanted to believe him.

  The Michael Brannan she used to know had morphed into a handsome man. He wore his copper hair short and neatly trimmed. The red scruff darkening his jaw and chin made him seem older than she knew him to be. His blue eyes had a hardness that went beyond his years, in sharp contrast to the carefree boy she’d known in high school. His attention to detail impressed her, unlike the grungy jeans and T-shirts he’d worn to class every day, his shirt and slacks were perfectly pressed. His rigid posture was unlike the lazy slouch from their school days. Her brother came to mind as she observed Mike. When Marc came home to visit while he was serving with the Marines, she’d made the same observation. The military and war had changed her brother, giving him the same stiffness and hard bearing she now saw in Michael. He had changed, and she wondered briefly if he’d served in the Marine Corps, too. The arrogant high-school-star-athlete demeanor had been replaced with something she couldn’t quite classify. Curiosity about such a profound change made her want to learn more about him and see if he would even be worthy of forgiveness.

  “What do you do now?”

  “I’m a draftsman for an architectural firm, and I’m still in the Air Force as a reservist,” he said.

  “You’re in the Air Force? What do you do there?” she asked.

  “Kind of the same thing I do in the civilian world. I’m a combat engineer in a RED HORSE unit.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I do all the drawings based on what the architects give me. When we’re deployed, we’re the team who builds things like runways and temporary housing for the military to use in combat zones.”

  “Do you go into combat?”

  Nodding, he sipped his wine. “I got back from Afghanistan a year ago.”

  Intrigued, she listened while he went on to describe what he did for the firm he worked for and some of the projects he’d been a part of in his Air Force reserve unit. He told her about the valley where he’d been stationed in Afghanistan and how his unit had rebuilt a destroyed hospital and school. As his fingers brushed her knuckles, over and over, she shivered. His easy conversation and steady affection disarmed her, making her forget how much she hated him. Refusing to get sucked in any further, she pulled her hand away, and he sat back. The dining room had almost emptied while they talked.

  She glanced at her watch and said, “We’ve been sitting here for almost two hours.”

  “It’s not midnight, Cinderella,” he said, refilling her glass.

  “You’re way over your time limit.”

  “Maybe a few more minutes.” He picked up a strawberry. The small, intimate table made his reach to her lips easy. “Have a bite,” he whispered.

  The unmistakable lust in his eyes made his intention to possess her clearer than any words he could utter. Deciding to up his erotic game, she wrapped her lips around the fruit and sucked before she bit. He closed his eyes and shifted in his seat. She’d bet the balance of her savings account she’d given him a hard-on that could pound nails. At the low groan following his exhale, she smiled in evil satisfaction. Her signature bedroom eyes and full lips had made her one of the most sought-after lingerie models in plus-sized fashion, and she knew how to use them to her advantage. Knowing how beautifully sexy she’d become, she made sure the guy she’d pined over the entire time in high school knew it, too. Happy with her win, she stood to leave.

  “I have to go. I have a meeting in the morning.”

  Chapter Three

  As he walked Angel outside, Mike fought the impulse to drag her up to his room by her long hair and make her relieve the aching hard-on she’d caused. Everything about her seemed to affect him. Her smell, her sexy glances, the pouty lips he’d envisioned wrapping around his cock and sucking it with everything she had. Offering her that damned strawberry had been the biggest mistake he’d made all night. His balls painfully tightened, and he had to fight the urge to come as she’d sucked the fruit from his fingers. Holy fuck! She’d exacted her revenge in the most painful way possible. He resigned himself to part ways now before he got in too deep. This sexy goddess with a body like Mae West would make his life a living hell. She did a lot of lingerie modeling, and he’d seen the comments on her Facebook wall whenever she posted pictures from a shoot. The infamous adage about redheads and their temper was no damn lie. He had a temper from hell, and their relationship would be fraught with jealousy and suspicion.

  They reached the steps leading down the path to the parking lot, and she stopped.

  “Where are you parked?”

  “Out there, but I’m not going home until tomorrow,” he said.

  “Oh? Were you hoping I’d spend the night with you?”

  Mike chuckled. “Maybe a little, but I’m a ghost-hunting fan, and this place has a reputation as one of the most haunted places in San Antonio. I wanted to spend the night to see if it was true.”

  “Please don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.” She laughed.

  “I want explanations.”

  “You don’t need to walk me all the way over there. I can see my car from here.” She pointed to the far dark corner of the parking lot.

  Uneasiness crept over him. He couldn’t explain it, but something made the hair on the back of his neck rise in alarm. His sense of danger had been honed to a fine edge during his time in combat, and ignoring it could be fatal. The mansion’s ghostly legend was playing with his head. But while they were inside, the air had turned heavy and smelled like rain. Clouds moved over the full moon, shrouding the expansive lawn in complete darkness. The chill tingling along his spine screamed danger. His tension eased somewhat when he noticed a bright sodium light shining over the parking lot.

  “I don’t mind walking you. In fact, I wish you’d let me.”

  “I’m fine, Mike. Thanks for an interesting evening,” she said.

  Distracted by her lovely ass swaying as she walked off, he forgot all about ghosts and possible danger. The sudden rush of blood from his brain back to his dick forced his focus to the idea of grabbing her sexy, curvaceous hips and shoving himself balls-deep inside her pussy while he fucked her doggy style.

  “Can I call you? Maybe we can do this again?” he called after her.

  She glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Maybe.”

&nb
sp; “What’s your number?”

  “I’ll call you.” She waved with her back to him as if she were dismissing him.

  “How? You don’t have my number?”

  As she reached the parking lot, something caught his eye in the bushes—a shadow in the swaying oleanders. Angel kept walking. The damn thing got closer to her, but she didn’t react. He blinked, wondering if he were seeing things as the fast-moving shadow headed right for her when the light went out. In the sudden darkness, her silhouette glowed in the faint moonlight and froze, her head turning side to side. It wasn’t his imagination. As the shadow descended on her, he leaped off the porch and broke into a run. Raw adrenaline dumped into his body, fueling the thunderous beating of his heart. When she screamed in terror, he picked up speed and moved like the wind.

  With each stride, his warrior instincts took deeper hold, and, with mathematical precision, he worked out his angle of attack as the unknown assailant knocked her to the ground. No longer a shadow, it was a man, flesh and blood, hell-bent on harming his Angel. Jumbled images of past combat experience flashed in his mind—Taliban snipers shooting at his unit, patrols coming under fire on a regular basis, danger around every corner.

  Something dark inside him opened its demon eyes when he saw the glint of a knife as the moonlight peeked through the clouds. The attacker raised the weapon, but, before he could strike, Mike punched him in the face, knocking him backward, and, in one swift motion, he jerked Angel to her feet.