The Colton Marine

by Lisa Childs

  Her lips curved into a slight smile. “I didn’t mean this...”

  But she didn’t protest when he tugged her back against him and kissed her again. Instead she kissed him, too, her lips moving against his, parting as her tongue slipped out and into his mouth.

  He groaned as passion rushed over him, tensing every muscle in his body. He poured that passion into his kiss, making love to her mouth like he wanted to make love to her body. His hands moved, one through her hair—the other from her slender waist over the slight curve of her hip to her bare thigh. The muscle was toned, while her skin was smooth and silky. He brushed his fingertip over it—then moved his hand up, beneath the T-shirt. He had to know what she wore beneath it—if anything.

  His heart pounded hard against his ribs—as he waited for her to stop him. But she only emitted a soft moan as he nibbled at her bottom lip. Then he slid his hand up her thigh, over the curve of her butt. She wasn’t completely naked. A thin piece of lace covered her. He was tempted to tear it aside and just take her there—on the stairs.

  But he lifted her—not like he had from the basement floor. He didn’t cradle her in his arms. Instead he lifted her, so that her legs wrapped around his waist and the heat of her core pressed against the erection straining the fly of his jeans. He groaned. But she swallowed it in her mouth as she kissed him deeply.

  His legs shook a little as want turned to need. But he began to climb the stairs up to the bedroom. Now he wanted more than a kiss from her—so much more...

  * * *

  The last time River Colton had carried her, she’d had a concussion. So she’d had an excuse for feeling light-headed and out of control. She had no excuse now.

  But desire.

  It heated her skin, had blood rushing through her veins, her heart pounding...

  As he climbed the stairs, she moved up and down, her core rubbing against his erection. She ached for him to fill her, to fill the emptiness she hadn’t ever felt as acutely as she did now.

  He groaned as she moved. Cords strained along his neck and muscles bulged in his shoulders. She knew he wasn’t straining from carrying her. She’d watched him carry even heavier things over the past week he’d worked for her. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.

  But he worked for her—at least until Declan found out. And Edith had never mixed business with pleasure before. She knew it would be incredible, incomparable pleasure to make love with River. Just his kiss had made her feel more passion than she ever had before. The way his mouth moved over hers...

  He kissed her again—even as he climbed the stairs. He must have instinctively known where he was going since there was no way he could see, not with his face pressed to hers. But he made it to the top of the stairwell and walked unerringly down the hall to the open double doors to the master suite.

  As he lowered her onto the bed, she reached up and ran her fingers down his handsome face. Her fingertips brushed over the hard ridge of the scar along his right cheek, near the patch. And he tensed.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  He settled her onto the mattress, but he didn’t follow her down onto it. Instead he pulled back—as if he couldn’t handle her touching his face.

  He shook his head. “No...”

  But it must have. She could see the pain on his face; it stood out more than the scar. “But it haunts you,” she said, remembering that morning she’d heard him yelling.

  He shrugged, but there was nothing nonchalant about it. His shoulders moved slowly, as if a heavy burden was always across them. “We all have things in our past that stay with us. Sounds like you do, too.”

  “You heard,” she said and tried to remember what all she and Declan had discussed. “You know I lived in a foster home for a while.”

  He nodded. “Because your mother couldn’t take care of you.”

  “She couldn’t take care of herself, either. Especially after my father died.” Edith had loved her father and missed him. But she had never seen anyone in as much pain as her mother had suffered over the loss of her husband.

  So when River reached out for her, she drew back, scooting up to lean against the headboard. This man had already made her feel things she hadn’t felt before—a passion and desire she hadn’t even realized she was capable of feeling. She couldn’t risk going any further with him, not when she was worried she might get sick.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She didn’t know if he was apologizing for what had happened with her mom or for kissing her. She didn’t want his apology or his pity or whatever he was giving her.

  She shook her head. “We can’t do this,” she said.

  “I can,” he said.

  “I can’t.” The risk was too great.

  “Why not?” he asked. “You must feel it, too—this attraction between us...”

  She’d felt it the first time she’d seen him. But she’d refused to acknowledge it then. And now she intended to ignore it. “No.”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “Well, I guess your boss isn’t the only one you’re not being completely open and honest with.” He glanced down at where her cell phone sat next to her laptop on the bed. “Is this about him?”

  Declan obviously wouldn’t be happy. But he had no say in her love life. Of course there had never been much reason for him to have a say. She had only ever dated sporadically. A couple of boys in high school, a couple in college—a few more dates since graduation.

  They had never gone much beyond that, though. She had never been tempted to fall for any of them. Still, none of them had ever made her feel like River just had—so out of control and desperate with desire.

  “This is about me,” she said. “I can’t risk...” Her heart. Her sanity. She wasn’t certain which risk posed a greater threat.

  He nodded as if he suddenly understood. And he stood. “I understand...”

  She doubted that when she wasn’t certain she understood herself. “You do?”

  He touched his face where her fingertips had brushed over the scar. “It’s this...”

  “What?”

  “This injury.”

  The scar did nothing to detract from his handsomeness. Nor did the patch. In fact, it gave him a look of danger, which made him even sexier.

  “You’re worried,” he continued, “that it messed me up like your mom. That I have PTSD.”

  She sucked in a breath. But she couldn’t deny that she’d wondered. “Do you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had another nightmare since that morning you heard me.” His mouth curved up slightly. “Maybe you’ve healed me.”

  Panic gripped her, stealing away her breath as a pressure settled heavily on her chest. That was how she’d felt with her mother—that she could somehow heal her. But no matter how hard she’d tried, she had always failed to help her.

  Even now, with Declan helping her pay for her mother’s treatment; she visited as often as she was able. Mom hadn’t recognized her for years, though.

  “No,” she murmured. “I can’t...”

  She hadn’t helped Merrilee. She wouldn’t be able to help River. But most of all, she was afraid that if she fell for him, she wouldn’t be able to help herself.

  “I can’t do this,” she said again.

  He didn’t argue with her. He just walked away. It was a while before she heard the front door close behind him. He must have searched the house like he’d asked—to make certain that she was alone.

  For the first time ever at La Bonne Vie, she actually felt alone. Completely alone.

  * * *

  “You’re worried.”

  Mac sighed. But he couldn’t argue with his son’s assessment. He was worried. “Yes.”

  “About who?” Thorne asked as he settled into one of th
e wicker chairs on the front porch of his father’s ranch house. “Edith?”

  “Yes,” Mac replied.

  “You don’t think that stuff falling on her in the wine cellar was an accident?” Thorne asked.

  “Where’d you hear about all that?” Mac asked. He hadn’t spoken to his son yet that day. Thorne had been working on his house, trying to get it finished before his and Maggie’s child came into the world.

  Mac’s grandchild. Pride filled his heart. But he already had another grandson in Knox’s boy. Knox was like his son, Cody like his grandson. Maybe Maggie would have a girl. But then she would probably remind him of Edith and all the ways he’d failed his niece.

  “Knox,” Thorne said. “He came by the house to talk to Allison and filled me in. Why didn’t you call?”

  “Thought you’d see it on Everything’s Blogger in Texas,” Mac said, remembering how the reporters had hounded him and Edith as they’d left the hospital.

  “Maybe the site knows what the hell’s going on at La Bonne Vie,” Thorne said. “Edith won’t say anything.”

  “Damn confidentiality agreement,” Mac remarked. He wondered who her boss was and why he was so determined to protect his privacy. “People that bent on secrecy must have a hell of a lot to hide.” Like Livia and all those damn secret rooms she’d had in La Bonne Vie.

  He shivered, wishing he’d dressed warmer. But he hadn’t been cold until he’d left Evelyn and returned home to find the place all quiet and dark—even the room above the stables. He must have looked in that direction because Thorne did, too.

  “Is he asleep or gone?”

  “Gone,” Mac replied. “I don’t think he sleeps. But I can’t blame him, not with the way he wakes up shouting...”

  “He’s not getting any better?” Thorne asked.

  Mac paused to think and consider. “Actually he has been better since he’s been working on La Bonne Vie. Maybe the hard work has settled some of his restlessness.”

  “It’s not restlessness,” Thorne said. “He probably has PTSD. He needs to talk to someone.”

  “I don’t think we should push him.” He was doing better—much better since Edith had put him to work. But was that because of the work or Edith?

  “Do you want him winding up like Aunt Merrilee?” Thorne asked.

  Mac flinched with guilt over how he’d failed his sister. He never should have lost touch with her. When she’d stopped taking his calls and had returned his letters unopened, he should have tracked her and Edith down to make certain they were all right. Then he flinched when he heard the whinny of the horse and realized River had ridden up. He hoped the young man hadn’t overheard them.

  But his hopes were dashed when River said, “So you both think I have PTSD, too?”

  “Too?” Thorne asked as he stood and turned to lean over the porch railing.

  “I’m sorry,” Mac said. “We didn’t realize you were...”

  River slid off the horse’s back and dropped to the ground. “It’s fine. Not the first time I eavesdropped tonight and heard something I didn’t want to.”

  “What?” Thorne asked him. “What’s going on up at La Bonne Vie?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” River replied with a trace of bitterness.

  “Did she fire you?” Mac asked. He wouldn’t have put it past his niece to do just that if River had tried to protect her. And he had no doubt that the ex-Marine had gone up there to make sure she was okay.

  River cared about the young woman—maybe nearly as much as Mac did. But in the nine years since she’d left the foster home and reached out to him, Mac had gotten to know her pretty well. He knew how fiercely independent she was.

  River hesitated for a long moment, as if he wasn’t certain himself whether or not he was still employed. “Not yet...”

  What the hell had gone on between them?

  Thorne narrowed his eyes and flat out asked, “What happened?”

  “That other conversation I overheard,” River said. “Let’s just say her boss didn’t buy that place because he loves Coltons...”

  Thorne sighed. And Mac felt a fresh wave of guilt. He hated what his son and the other Colton kids had had to endure because of their mother. He had never been able to help anyone he cared about as much as he wished he could have.

  “And I don’t think Edith has very warm, fuzzy feelings about us, either,” River continued.

  Mac didn’t believe that. He knew Edith loved her cousin Thorne. And he’d seen the way she looked at River—even the way she’d looked for him at the hospital when Mac had showed up in his place. He suspected she had very warm, fuzzy feelings for River. And that was the problem. At least for her.

  And unfortunately for River, as well—because she would push him away as far as she could. It probably was only a matter of time before she fired him. But River appeared to realize that already.

  “Is she safe up there?” Thorne asked. That must have been why he’d stopped over—to ask Mac the same thing. But River had been there.

  River nodded. “Yeah. I checked out the house again. There was no sign of anyone else being in there but her. And if there was...”

  “What?” Thorne asked.

  “I don’t think Edith would have any problem getting rid of them.” Without another word, he tugged the horse’s reins, leading him off toward the barn.

  “What the hell’s wrong with him?” Thorne asked.

  Mac shrugged. Was it a bruised ego? Pride or heart? Was River falling for Edith?

  Chapter 12

  River pulled his hat low over his face as he hurried down the sidewalk of Main Street. He hated coming to town, but he’d been called to this meeting. Unfortunately, it was being held in his sister’s boutique. As if he wasn’t conspicuous enough with this patch and his scar, now they had him walking into a women’s clothing shop.

  Hoping no damn reporter spied him, he hurried through the door and ducked low behind the racks of clothes. “He’s in the back,” Evelyn called to him with a smile from the antique-looking cash register at the vintage-style front counter.

  The place was fancy and European-looking—just like his sister Claudia had always been. After what she’d learned, River had no right to feel sorry for himself. Claudia had learned neither of her parents were who she’d always thought they were. She wasn’t even a Colton.

  But then, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She must have been out and about somewhere or her effervescent personality would have been overflowing the boutique.

  He pushed open the door marked Employees Only and stepped into the back office. Their oldest sister, Leonor, Claudia’s business partner, wasn’t there, either. It was Leonor’s fiancé, Joshua Howard, who sat at the cluttered desk in the back. Designs and fashion magazines covered the surface. River couldn’t imagine the former FBI agent had been looking at any of it.

  “You wanted to meet here?” River asked incredulously.

  Josh grinned. “Figured you’d prefer here to the local coffee shop.”

  “Where people gawk and stare and, if any reporters are around, take photos?” River shuddered. “Thanks. I do.” Not that he didn’t feel awkward in the boutique, too.

  Josh didn’t look particularly comfortable, either, on the dainty chair with the spindly legs. But he stretched out his long legs and braced an elbow on the desk. “I’m here because I’m figuring out what kind of security system Claudia should install in the boutique,” he explained.

  That explained why Josh was there. But why had he called River to meet him? “That’s good...” He was sure they could use one.

  “I have my business just about up and running in Austin,” Josh said.

  “The security business?” Josh had retired from the FBI to be his own boss. Of course the Bureau might not have given him much choice
in the matter once he’d fallen for the daughter of one of their most wanted fugitives.

  Josh nodded.

  “Good for you,” River said, even as he wondered if it was good for the Coltons. Having a man on the inside of the FBI had been helpful. Josh had been the one who’d found out River was alive and okay and had assured the others. He’d also kept them apprised of all the Livia sightings. But River shoved aside his selfishness and held out his hand. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” Josh said as he shook. “So you want a job?”

  River snorted. “What?”

  “Working security with me,” Josh said. “You want a job?”

  Security. He knew a lot of ex-Marines who’d gone into the business. Several guys from another unit had recently become bodyguards at the Payne Protection Agency in Michigan. He was intrigued. “You don’t think I’m damaged goods like everyone else?”

  “I know what you did over there,” Josh said. “I have buddies in the Corps.” In high places, obviously, since he’d found out more about River’s last mission than any civilian was supposed to know.

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you,” River said. “You don’t think I’m all screwed up with PTSD?”

  “Are you?” Josh asked.

  River sighed. “I have a nightmare every now and then but they’re getting fewer and far between.” Because now he dreamed about Edith, about her lips, her skin, her long sexy legs...and that was only if his tense, achy body let him sleep at all.

  Josh said, “I know you got help right away—right after the mission. You didn’t try to go it alone.”

  He’d wanted to be well before he returned to his family. But no matter how hard he’d tried, he’d not been able to completely heal either the external or the internal scars before he’d returned.

  While he’d talked to someone, being alone had probably been the best medicine for him. Working the ranch, riding.