Mixing Temptation

by Sara Jane Stone

  “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience with road trips. In fact, this is my first time outside of Oregon.”

  “You’re kidding. No family car outings as a kid?”

  “My mom left when I was little. My father did his best for us. But he was a sane man. He never tried to load the four of us into a car and take us across state lines. We visited the coast once or twice for clamming, but that’s it. He worked a lot to make ends meet. There wasn’t much left over after paying the bills and trying to keep us all fed for fancy vacations. You’ve seen a lot more of the world than I have.”

  She let out a brittle laugh. “I know there are beautiful places in the Middle East, in Iraq and Afghanistan, but I don’t think the US military posts are on the top sightseeing stops.”

  “Probably not,” he acknowledged. “Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”

  “I can’t. If I use my passport—­”

  He pushed away the rising need to erase ‘can’t’ from her vocabulary. He’d pull the truck over right now if he could tear down the hard limits she put on her life. He knew the complexities of her situation couldn’t be tossed out the window and abandoned on the side of the Oregon highway. “But if you could go somewhere?”

  “What is the point in dreaming about something you can’t have?” she said softly.

  “Situations change. One day—­”

  “There’s no ‘one day’ in my future. We both know that, Josh. If I try to board a plane bound for Hawaii, I’ll be arrested.”

  “Why Hawaii?” he asked.

  He glanced over and caught sight of her full lips pressed tight together. “You’re annoying. You know that, right?”

  “My sister reminds me all the time. And you agreed to spend the next few days in a car with me.”

  “Few days? It’s a nine-­ to ten-­hour drive.”

  “I thought we’d break it up, maybe work in a modified version of your dream beach vacation. That’s why you want to see Hawaii, right? The beautiful beaches? Or were you interested in the volcanoes? Oregon has those too.”

  “The beaches,” she murmured, turning her attention to some distant point out the window. “And I want to see the ocean. But—­”

  “If we have time to stop in Northern Cali before we head south to rescue a woman who might not need our help—­”

  “She does,” Caroline said firmly.

  “I believe you. But if we have time to visit your number one enemy—­”

  “I didn’t say—­”

  “Wild guess,” he said dryly. “If we have time for that asshole, we can take a detour to the scenic route and spend the night by the beach.”

  “Sleep on the sand under the stars?” she murmured.

  “If that’s what you want. I was thinking more along the lines of a hotel with a view of the water. Maybe a balcony.”

  “Josh, I’ve spent the past year washing dishes. Noah’s been generous, paying me more than he should, but—­”

  “My date. My treat. Two rooms with a view of the ocean,” he said firmly. “Plus, I’m hoping you’ll be so relaxed that you’ll forget all about stopping to visit the past.”

  “I can’t,” she said simply.

  Yeah, he’d been afraid she’d say that.

  “Caroline,” he said. “There’s nothing but trouble waiting for you if you try to see him. What are you hoping to get out of this side trip? An apology? He owes you a helluva lot more than that. And from what you’ve told me, what Noah’s told me, I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to call the police if you show up on his goddamn doorstep.”

  “I’m not going to talk to him—­”

  “Good,” he said firmly.

  “But . . .”

  Josh sighed. Yeah, he’d known there was a ‘but’ at the end of that statement.

  “I need to know once and for all if he’s after me,” she added.

  “All right,” he said grudgingly. “But I’m going with you.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  He reached for the radio and tuned to the first station he found that played something other than country. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride. Imagine how the sand will feel between your toes.”

  Chapter 9

  CAROLINE SURVEYED THE exit routes while Josh secured their rooms. But mentally mapping the hotel’s exterior from the truck proved challenging. Three large brown rectangular buildings surrounded the parking area and the rooms lining the three stories all faced out. The ones on the far side had a spectacular view of the water while the others looked out on rows and rows of parked vehicles. She could hear the ocean beyond the structures, but she’d have to get out of the truck if she wanted to see the waves.

  Glancing around the empty parking lot, she opened the passenger side door and slipped out. She headed for a cement path between two buildings filled with guest rooms. Carefully maintained grass covered the ground behind the hotel leading to a row of thick hedges.

  “I have good news and bad news.”

  Josh spoke from behind her. He wasn’t close. Not yet. And she’d spent enough time with Josh to know that he possessed a healthy respect for her personal space.

  “What’s the bad news?” she demanded, her mind running through worst-­case scenarios. The hotel staff had demanded her government issued identification . . . The oceanfront resort was out of rooms so they’d have to sleep in the bed of the pickup . . .

  “Just a minute, Ms. Doom and Gloom, I’m starting on a high note,” he said. “See that structure down there? Just visible beyond the hedges, directly on the sand?”

  She nodded. The small triangular cottage looked as if one big wave might wash it away into the sea.

  “That’s ours for the night,” he said. “Secluded and right on the beach. You can’t see it from here, but there is a porch on the front. Plus, it comes with a kitchenette.”

  She nodded slowly, trying to process the fact that he’d rented her a private cottage so close to the water that high tide probably touched the porch steps. It wasn’t a villa at one of those fancy Hawaiian resorts, but it was a lot to take in for a third date.

  “What’s the bad news?” she asked, remembering his earlier warning.

  He turned to face her. “There’s a conference at the main lodge and they’re booked. The cottage was the only opening. There’s a queen bed and a sleeping loft. I’ll take the loft, but it’s an open floorplan apart from the bathroom. If the loft is too close for comfort, I can grab a sleeping bag from the truck and camp on the porch.”

  You can sleep in the loft, she thought. I’ll be fine.

  She knew that was the logical response. He’d paid for the cottage. But she hadn’t slept that close to a man in a long time. No walls. No safe barriers. Not that she needed them from Josh. Part of her wanted to propose they share the bed.

  And part of her wanted to lock him outside for the night.

  “That should work,” she said slowly. “But I might change my mind and claim the porch. I’ve never slept this close to the ocean before.”

  He held out a key. “Why don’t you head down and check it out. I’ll grab our bags.”

  Her fingers touched his and she grabbed his hand. “Thank you, Josh. For bringing me here. But I need to make one thing clear.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m picking the location for our next date. It probably won’t be a beachfront cottage because I’m on a budget, but—­”

  “I’m up for anything.” His lips curved into a full-­blown smile. “Go enjoy the view.”

  CAROLINE WALKED OUT of the bathroom with her long black hair wrapped in a towel and Josh knew he’d be spending the night on the porch. His call. Not hers. And it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the towel—­or the fitted jeans that hugged the curve of her hips. Or the loose, thin sweater material that played peek-­a-­boo w
ith her breasts. It was a black sweater, not thin strips of silk for Christ sake, cut in the shape of an oversized men’s dress shirt minus the buttons and collar. One look shouldn’t inspire a roar of lust.

  Ah hell, I had a hard-­on for her when she wore oversized T-­shirts and baggy cargo pants.

  He glanced out the cottage window. If Caroline traded her loose-­fitting outfits for lingerie, he’d have a second, maybe two, to make the call before lust overrode his brain and body. Run for the sand dunes or let her seduce him?

  But he didn’t have to make the choice tonight. Her sexy sweater wasn’t exactly a secret of old Victoria’s. And he’d tossed the idea of moving past second base out the window during their long drive. Not long after he’d turned on the radio, she’d drifted off to sleep. He’d focused on the road, putting more and more miles behind them. But he couldn’t stop replaying their earlier conversation.

  I need to know once and for all if he’s after me.

  He remembered the trigger-­happy woman who’d nearly shot a raccoon not long after she’d started working at Big Buck’s. But over time, she’d let the paranoia slip away. Or maybe she’d learned to hide it. Either way, she wanted closure.

  He felt a lot of things for this woman. Admiration and lust topped the list. But he also knew that he couldn’t go to bed with her to help her slam the door on the past. He wasn’t afraid she’d freeze or he’d touch her in a way that triggered a memory of her rape. Although, shit, that was something they’d need to address too. But if that happened, they’d stop and deal with it. He wasn’t backing away from her because he feared the stop-­and-­starts or scary moments that led to more talks instead of climaxes.

  But if they reached the let’s-­get-­naked date, he planned to have a long discussion with her before they lost their clothes. And he suspected that would be hard on both of them. He’d parted ways with ‘serious’ long before his accident. His eldest brother, Brody, had always been the somber one. Chad had picked up the playboy label and run with it—­until he met Lena.

  And that left Josh with humor.

  But a talk about how to avoid triggering memories of the way she’d been raped didn’t call for laughter and it couldn’t be avoided. He supposed he could breathe a sigh of relief since that chat wouldn’t happen tonight. Not because he wasn’t feeling as if his jeans had shrunk a size or two since he’d watched her emerge fully dressed in an oversized sweater.

  He needed her to want him in the same crazy-­for-­you-­even-­if-­you’re-­wearing-­a-­baggy-­old-­sweater way he wanted her.

  His erection threatened to object—­

  “The shower is all yours.” She released the towel and let the long, wet strands of hair tumble over her shoulders.

  He relinquished his place on the tiny love seat shoved into the one-­room cottage’s kitchenette in an attempt to create a ‘living space’ between the bed and the front door.

  “But I used all the cold water,” she added as she pulled a hairbrush from her backpack.

  “That’s all right. I’m fine with . . .” He paused in the doorway to the bathroom and turned to her. “How did you manage to use all the cold? As the youngest, I know for a fact that the hot goes first—­”

  “I was teasing you.” She offered a rare wry smile. “Something”—­she let her gaze drift south and settle below his belt—­“told me you might need a cold shower.”

  He let out a laugh, but didn’t turn away from the spark of sexual awareness. He was already headed for a cold shower. “Before our third date? Don’t worry, Caroline, I haven’t lost count.”

  “Me neither,” she said softly.

  Maybe I should rethink my plans to sleep on the porch, he thought. But he shook his head and headed for the cold shower he desperately needed now.

  “There’s a bottle of Oregon pinot noir on the windowsill by the mini-­fridge,” he called back to her. “I also picked up some dinner for us. The coast’s famous clam chowder.”

  “I’ll warm it up.” She nodded to the bathroom. “I’ll meet you on the porch when you’re done with your shower.”

  He walked into the cramped space but couldn’t resist adding: “If this was our fourth date, I’d invite you to join me. But naked time in the shower on the third? That’s against the rules.”

  “You’re right,” she shot back. “No shower sex before the fourth date. But hot tubs are excluded from that rule.”

  He let out a laugh. “Wrote these rules in your spare time?”

  “No,” she said. And he heard the door to the mini-­fridge slam shut. “We have the gods of reality TV to thank for their insights into the ritual of dating.”

  “You watch too much television,” he said as he closed the door and rested his hands on the vanity’s edge.

  But he could have sworn he heard her add, “But I don’t live under a rock. Not anymore.”

  Chapter 10

  THE WAVES RUSHED over the grey-­white sand, teasing the three steps leading up to the porch. From her perch on one of the four all-­weather metal chairs beside the table, Caroline studied the water as it slipped back. She imagined the tides washing away the lingering effects of the past few years. The beach beneath the water had been disturbed, shifted by the waves’ movement, but the sand remained a solid surface.

  She cocked her head and turned her gaze to the sun slipping below the horizon. If she was comparing her life to the ocean’s movements she’d probably had too much wine. One high tide wouldn’t strip her past and leave her with a fresh new start.

  But Josh offered living, breathing proof that trouble could slip away. He’d regained his footing and then some after his accident. He smiled and appeared so comfortable in his own skin. And tonight, he’d laughed freely while they debated just how much ‘reality’ went into their favorite shows over steaming bowls of chowder.

  “Josh.” She tore her gaze away from the orange-­gold sky and looked at her date. “When did you start watching reality shows?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you it was a life-­long passion?”

  “No.”

  He grinned. “The nurses at the rehab center liked them. The ones on the night shift always wanted to watch dating shows. I enjoyed their company. Hell, some days it felt like the only thing that kept me sane.”

  “How did you know?”

  “One of them gave me a journal during my first week and told me to write everything down. I still have it. Minus the pages Chad took back.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “He stopped by to pour his heart out when he and Lena hit a hiccup in their relationship. I honestly can’t tell you more than that because he tore out the pages.”

  “Did it help?” she asked. “Keeping the journal?”

  “Yeah. It’s weird waking up in what feels like a strange new place every day, not knowing the ­people around you, only to learn that you’ve been there for weeks.”

  “I can’t imagine,” she murmured.

  “I don’t think anyone ever really understands what another person is going through. The nurses tried. But most nights, even after their stupid memory game therapies, I didn’t want to sleep. I felt lost in my own life with no way out. So I started watching whatever the nurses wanted to see. Of course, I forgot about it the next day. But months later, when my memory came back and I’d moved into the apartment over the barn, I started tuning in again.”

  “Out of habit?” she asked.

  “Nah, I wanted to know why I’d written about roses and hot tubs in my journal.” He set down his wine and looked her straight in the eyes. “Now I need you to promise you won’t tell my older siblings. They probably think I’m watching porn up there and we should keep it that way.”

  “Promise,” she said solemnly. “But I get to pick the drive-­thru for tomorrow’s lunch. Or I’ll call up your sister and tell her—­”

 
“Deal,” he said quickly. He held her gaze as he reclaimed his glass and took a long sip. “Now how about you? Did you sit around at the base and watch TV?”

  “No.” She shook her head and looked away, staring out at the sand. “My sister is a reality show junkie. She had it on all day. From pregnant teenagers to ­people willing to eat bugs for money, she liked it all.”

  “I’ve never seen the appeal of eating bugs on national television,” he murmured.

  “Me neither,” she said with a laugh. But it sounded forced, even to her ears.

  Why can’t I have a normal conversation with this man? she wondered. But given her situation, maybe this was normal—­the best she could hope for anyway.

  “But your sister liked those shows,” he prompted.

  “Yeah,” she said, mentally tossing normal out into the surf as she added: “And when I was staying with her, I couldn’t leave the house. I knew it was only a matter of time before the police came to her door and demanded to know if she’d seen me. So I stayed inside and watched with her. I waited for the inevitable . . .”

  But it doesn’t feel so inevitable right now.

  She closed her eyes. Witnessing the sunset, following the water’s ebb and flow, and sitting beside a man that infused her life with wanting, she’d felt as if possibility hung in the air—­as if her new version of normal was within arm’s reach. She’d set out to face her past. To see for herself if Dustin was interested in hunting her down. If he wanted to seek revenge for a career he’d lost most than a year ago.

  Damn it, I wish I could take out my past with a single shot. One well-­aimed bullet and the reasons I ran, even the fact that I decided to go AWOL instead of serving with those bastards again—­I could blow it all away.

  “Look at me, Caroline,” he said softly. “Please.”

  She opened her eyes. Her date looked downright serious. And yes, that was on her. Josh laughed openly and freely. He seemed happy just about all the time. Except for when she started unpacking the baggage from her past.