“Actually Noah hired him for me,” she murmured, arching her lower back. Her chest pressed against his and her thigh brushed his.
I’m never letting you go, she thought.
“And was the ‘Superhero’s Lair’ in place of a master bedroom Noah’s idea too?” he asked, running one hand up her spine. His fingers brushed the bare skin at the nape of her neck and she felt a rush of pleasure.
“I might have sent a few suggestions,” she said softly. But they could talk blueprints later. Right now, she wanted to touch him.
She ran her hands up to his shoulders, over his neck to his jaw. The red-gold stubble brushed against her palms as she drew his mouth to hers. With his lips hovering over hers, she added, “I don’t want to hold you back from your dreams. I want to be a part of your happy-ever-after. I want to build that house with you. Set up our lair together.”
She rose up on her toes and kissed him. Her tongue swept into his mouth, tangling with his. And she felt every inch of his excitement.
Slowly, she drew her lips away from his, but she kept her body close. Her back arched as she looked up at him. “We might want to start the road trip home soon. I think it would be a good idea to get off the base before we find out how much trouble we can get into in the front seat of your truck.”
“I’m not taking you home.” He grinned down at her. “Not yet.”
“I recognize that look,” she murmured. And I trust that smile. “You have a plan.”
“I would have come down to visit you,” he said, releasing his hold on her and she instantly wanted to climb back into his arms. But he reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “I didn’t want to settle for an afternoon,” he continued. “I wanted to take you away with me.” He held out the envelope. “These are for you. Go ahead.”
She took the blue packet, opened it, and peeked inside. “Airplane tickets?” She pulled them out, her eyes widening as she read the details. “We’re going to Hawaii? Tonight?”
“I packed a bag for you.” He nodded to the truck. “And don’t worry, I grabbed your black undies. But your gun had to stay in the safe.”
“You planned a trip for me,” she murmured, staring down at the tickets. “In between starting petitions to keep me out of a military jail cell, going on national TV, demanding meetings with senators, hiring lawyers—”
“Noah kept you informed”
She nodded. “You did all of this for me.”
“For us. Plus I have this rule.” His fingers touched her cheek and she looked up at him, her fingers still clutching the tickets. “I need to spend the sixth date with the woman I love—the beautiful, brave, fierce woman I’ve fallen in love with—on an island.”
“I love you too, Josh Summers.”
“I know, Caroline.” His smile faded, but his eyes still sparkled with amusement. “But you know, I still haven’t received a rose.”
“I have a rule about that.” She tried to match his pseudo-solemn expression—and failed. “No roses until the hot tub date.”
“It’s a damn good thing there happens to be a private one waiting for us in Hawaii, my love.”
Epilogue
THE LANDLINE IN the private beachfront villa rang and rang. Caroline held her hands behind her back, twirling her final surprise between her fingers. The ringing stopped and she smiled, counted to five and . . .
Ring! Ring!
“Don’t answer that,” Josh advised from the bathroom’s arched doorway. He rested his forearm against the entryway and offered a wicked, too-tempting grin. One day in Hawaii and this man’s mouth was already driving her crazy.
Her gaze headed south. She followed the trail of red-gold hair down his taut abdomen, past the hard lines she’d explored with her mouth, tracing her way down until she’d slipped below the towel slung low around his hips.
Ring! Ring!
“What if it’s Brody? He might be calling to tell you that their adoption was approved.”
“It’s not. I spoke to my big brother earlier. No news about their little girl. But they’re confident it will come through soon.”
He lowered his arm and stepped into the room. A wooden platform bed with an elaborately carved headboard filled the space to his left. The white sheet formed a tangled mess in the center. Beyond the bed French doors led to a secluded patio.
And one very big, very private hot tub.
Ring! Ring!
“Maybe it’s Chad?” she murmured.
Josh shook his head and took another step, like a big, beautiful, red-haired lion stalking his prey. Her pulse sped up and she tightened her hold on her surprise.
“Chad should be in a helicopter right about now.” Josh cocked his head and took another step. “Although I wouldn’t put it past him to keep calling just to annoy me.”
Ring! Ring!
“Katie?” she suggested.
“I talked to her when we landed. She’s fine and still pregnant.” He rose up his tiptoes and tried to peer over her shoulder. “Did you find a bikini? The hot tub on the patio is ready and waiting for us.”
She stepped back until her fingers brushed a row of bamboos stalks in a decorative vase by the villa’s front entrance. “No bikinis. But I might be willing to relax my rule about wearing swimsuits on our very private patio.”
Ring! Ring!
“Someone really wants to talk to us. It might be Noah or Dominic.”
“They can wait,” he said firmly. “I sent a text to the Big Buck’s group when we landed. They know you’re free and we’re taking a little vacation to celebrate. Noah will still have your job for you when you get back.”
“I owe him a month’s worth of shifts for covering the architect’s bill.” She twirled her present again. He’d slipped closer—
Ring! Ring!
“Who else has this number?” she wondered aloud. “The front desk? Did they accidentally give us a bungalow reserved for someone else?”
He shook his head. “No. This one is all ours.” He glanced at the phone. In two long strides he was standing by the nightstand, bending over, and pulling the cables from the wall outlet.
“That’s better.”
She laughed. “But what if—”
“It’s reporters, Caroline. The news about your release is spreading all over social media and TV.” He glanced down at his bare feet and placed his hands on his hips. “I talked to a lot of people after you turned yourself in. I couldn’t let them send you to prison. So I begged and I pleaded.”
“I know.” She closed the space between them and drew her hands around to her front. “That’s why I choose you.” She held out the single long-stem red rose.
“I left the competition in the dust?” He placed his hands on her hips and held her right there in front of him.
She drew a deep breath and tried to hide her smile. “There was no competition.”
“Caroline,” he murmured, following her lead and abandoning playful.
And she fought the urge to laugh. Instead, she brushed the tip of the rose over his bare chest down to the top of his abs. The muscles contracted, showing off and inviting more contact. She drew the rose down, down, down . . .
“Caroline,” he growled.
“No competition,” she said, her words soft, gentle, and heartfelt. No more teasing. Apart from the wicked rose pressed against his towel, begging to slip below the covering . . .
“Because you were the only man willing to push past impossible,” she continued. “The one willing to wait until I trusted you.”
His chest rose and fell with quickening breath and his grip tightened on her hips. She drew the rose lower, over the white towel to the hard, thick ridge beneath.
“The only one,” she added, “willing to wait until I fell in love.”
DESIRE ROARED THROUGH him an
d Josh fought the urge to pull her down to the bed and get lost in the tangle of sheets. They had a week to tear up the sheets. Longer if the reporters kept hounding them. He would stay here as long as they needed. Now that he had her back, he wasn’t going to let her slip away again. If there were battles to fight, hurdles to cross, they would leap together.
And no more handcuffs. He released her hip and plucked the rose from her fingertips.
No more cuffs unless I put them on, he thought, amending his own edict.
But they could debate that rule—and which date fit best for bondage—later.
“Thank you.” He raised the rose to his nose and pretended to take a long inhale. Peering over the top of the bud, he added, “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“A one-on-one date?” she teased.
He nodded and tried to look serious. But hell, he hadn’t been the solemn one in his family for a long damn time. And the woman who’d just handed him a rose knew it.
“Not just any date,” he said. “A hot tub date.”
He stepped back and took her hand. Then, still holding the rose in one hand, he grasped tight to hers and headed for the French doors.
“Time for some serious conversation,” she added.
“Very,” he agreed as he paused to toss the rose on the bed behind them. With his free hand, he pulled at the only thing covering his naked, eager body. His towel hit the floor and he opened the door. “How about I start while you undress?”
She let go of him and followed him out on the patio, pulling her shirt over her head as she walked.
“First, I’m going to start with your breasts. And I have a big decision to make. Should I press your tits together and dip my tongue between your breasts? Or—”
Her laughter drowned out his words and filled his heart.
“Save that conundrum for later? How about this.” He held out his hand. “Come here, Caroline, and let me love you.”
Don’t miss any of the Second Shot novels! Keep reading for a look at the first in the series,
SERVING TROUBLE
Five years ago, Josie Fairmore left timber country in search of a bright future. Now she’s back home with a mountain of debt and reeling from a loss that haunts her. Desperate for a job, she turns to the one man she wishes she could avoid. The man who rocked her world one wild night and then walked right out of it.
Former Marine Noah Tager is managing his dad’s bar and holding tight to the feeling that his time overseas led to failure. The members of his small town think he’s a war hero, but after everything he’s witnessed, Noah doesn’t want a pat on the back. The only thing he desires is a second chance with his best friend’s little sister.
Josie’s determined to hold on to her heart and not repeat her mistakes, but when danger arrives on Noah’s doorstep and takes aim at Josie, they just might discover that sometimes love is worth the risk.
An Excerpt from
SERVING TROUBLE
“I DROVE TO the wrong bar.”
Josie Fairmore stared up at the unlit sign towering above the nearly vacant parking lot, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Nothing changed in Forever, Oregon. Everything from the people to the names of the bars remained the same. The triplets, who had to be over a hundred now, still owned The Three Sisters Café downtown. Every car and truck she’d sped past had the high school football team’s flag mounted on the roof or featured on the bumper. And her father was still the chief of police.
Nothing changed. That was why she’d left for college and never looked back.
Until now.
She’d blown past the Forever town line ten minutes ago. She’d driven straight to the place that promised a rescue from her current hell. And she’d parked under the sign, which appeared determined to prove her wrong.
“Josephine Fairmore, it is ten thirty in the morning,” Daphne said through the phone, her tone oddly stern for the owner of a strip club situated outside the town limits. “The fact that you’re at a bar might be your first mistake.”
Damn. If the owner of The Lost Kitten was her voice of reason, Josie was screwed.
“When did they take the ‘country’ out of Big Buck’s Country Bar?” Josie stared at the letters above the entrance to the town’s oldest bar. She twirled the key to her red Mini, which looked out of place beside the lone monster truck in the lot. She should probably take the car back to the city. The Mini didn’t belong in the land of four-wheelers, pickups, and logging trucks. The red car would miss the parking garage.
But I can’t afford the parking garage anymore. I can’t even pay my rent. Or my bills. . .
“Big Buck gave in three years ago,” Daphne explained, drawing Josie’s attention back to the bar parking lot. “He decided to take Noah’s advice and get rid of the mechanical bull. He wanted to attract the college crowd.”
“He got rid of the bull before I went to college.” And before his son left to join the United States Marine Corps. She should know. She’d ridden the bull at his going away party.
With Noah.
And then she’d ridden Noah.
“Well, Buck made a few more changes,” Daphne said. “He added a new sound system and—”
“He changed the name. I guess that explains why Noah came home.” She glanced at the dark, quiet bar. The hours posted by the door read “Open from noon until the cows come home (or 3am, whichever comes first!).”
“He served for five years and did two tours in Afghanistan. Stop by The Three Sisters and you’ll get an earful about his heroics,” Daphne said. “But from what I’ve heard, Noah didn’t want to sign up for another five. Not after his grandmother died last year.”
“You’ve seen him?” Josie looked down at her cowboy boots. She hadn’t worn them since that night in Noah’s barn. She’d thought they’d help her land the job at the “country” bar. But now she wished she’d worn her Converse, maybe a pair of heels.
“Yes.”
“At The Lost Kitten?” Why, after all this time, after she never responded to his apologetic letter, would she care if Noah spent his free time watching women strip off their clothes? One wild, stupid, naked night cut short by her big brother didn’t offer a reason for jealousy.
But the fact that I told him I love him? That might.
“No. I bumped into him at the café.” Daphne hesitated. “He didn’t smile. Not once.”
“PTSD?” she asked quietly. She couldn’t imagine walking into a war zone and leaving without long-lasting trauma. The things he probably saw . . .
“Maybe,” Daphne said. “But he’s not jumpy. He just seems pissed off at the world. Elvira was behind the counter that day. She tried to thank him for serving our country after he ordered a burger. He set a ten on the counter and walked out before his food arrived.”
“He left his manners in the Middle East.” Josie stared at the door to Big Buck’s. “Might hurt my chances for getting a job.”
“I think your lack of waitressing or bartending experience will be the nail in the coffin. But if Noah turns you down, you can work here.”
“I’d rather keep my shirt on while I work,” Josie said dryly.
And he won’t turn me down. He promised to help me.
But that was before he turned into a surly former Marine.
“You’d make more without it,” Daphne said. “Or you can tell the hospital, the collection agency—whoever’s coming after you—the truth. You’re broke.”
“I did. They gave me a payment plan and I need to stick to it.” She headed for the door. “I ignored those bills for months. Besides, what kind of mother doesn’t pay her child’s medical bills?”
The kind who buried her son twenty-seven days after he was born.
Daphne didn’t say the words, but Josie knew she was thinking them. Her best friend was the only person in Forever who knew the
truth about why she was desperate for a paycheck. If only Daphne had inherited a restaurant or a bookstore—a place with fully clothed employees.
“He has to agree,” Josie added. “I need that money.”
“I know.” Daphne sighed. “And I need to get to work. I have a staff of topless waitresses and dancers who depend on me for their paycheck. Good luck, Josie.”
“Thanks.” She ended the call and slipped her phone into the bag slung over her shoulder alongside her wallet and resume.
She drew a deep breath. But a churning feeling started in her belly, foreboding, threatening. She knew this feeling and she didn’t like it. Something bad always followed.
Her boyfriend headed for the door convinced he was too young for a baby . . . Her water broke too early. . .
She tried the door. Locked, dammit.
Ignoring the warning bells in her head telling her to run to her best friend’s club and offer to serve a topless breakfast, she raised her hand and knocked.
“Hang on a sec,” a deep voice called from the other side. She remembered that sound and could hear the echo of his words from five long years ago, before he’d joined the Marines and before she’d gone to college hoping for a brighter future—and found more heartache.
Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I’ll find a way to help.
He’d meant every word. But people changed. They hardened. They took hits and got back up, leaving their heart beaten and wrecked on the ground.
She glanced down as if the bloody pieces of her broken heart would appear at her feet. Nope. Nothing but cement and her boots. She’d left her heart behind in Portland, dead and buried, thank you very much.
The door opened. She looked up and . . .
Oh my . . . Wow. . .
She’d gained five pounds—well, more than that, but she’d lost the rest. She’d cried for weeks, tears running down her cheeks while she slept, and flooding her eyes when she woke. And it had aged her. There were lines on her face that made her look a lot older than twenty-three.
Mixing Temptation Page 17
