by Marie Harte
It was Monday, and he knew the restaurant didn’t open until one for lunch, which meant that Jill should still be home, but when he got to her building and buzzed the intercom, he encountered nothing but crackling static. It occurred to him again that it might be an avoidance tactic, but since when did Jill shy away from a confrontation?
Her building was nice enough that it had a person at the front desk twenty-four-seven, so Shane drifted over to the counter and awkwardly greeted the dark-skinned man behind it.
“I’m here to see Jill Marshall in 4B. Do you know if she’s home?”
The clerk was quick to shake his head. “Actually, she stepped out about twenty minutes ago.”
“Did she say where she was headed?”
“Work, I think.” The man shifted in his chair, looking apprehensive. “I don’t know if I should have told you that. How exactly do you know Ms. Marshall?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” The answer came out smoothly, and to his shock, it felt right to say it. “I’ll try her again on her cell, though. Thanks, man.”
Shane darted out of the lobby before the man could continue the interrogation. In the front seat of his car, he dialed Jill’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail. Battling frustration, he quickly pulled up the number for the restaurant and punched send.
A second later, a frazzled voice echoed in his ear. “Hampton Grill, Susie speaking. How can I help you?”
Susie. He remembered the pretty young hostess from the times he’d picked Jill up from work. “Susie, it’s Shane,” he said gruffly. “Is Jill around?”
“No, she’s at St. Mary’s. She—”
“The hospital?” he interrupted, a jolt of alarm seizing his gut. “What happened?”
“There was an accident,” the girl blurted out. “And things are so chaotic now! We’re trying to figure out if we should open for lunch or not, and—forget it, you don’t want to hear all this.” There was a loud crash in the background. “Oh shoot! I’ve gotta go, Shane. Try her cell.”
Susie hung up, leaving him to clutch the phone in panic.
Jill had been in an accident?
A hundred grisly scenarios blazed through Shane’s head like a forest fire. Before he’d left for Nevada, Jill had been talking about buying a car…
Jesus Christ. Oh Jesus fucking Christ.
His heart hammered against his ribs as the unthinkable hit. What if she’d bought a car and someone had hit her again?
White dots obscured his vision as the panic intensified, twisting inside him and making his stomach go rigid. He blinked, took a breath, tried to steady his heart rate so he could start the car and drive to St. Mary’s without getting in an accident himself.
But his hands shook on the steering wheel during the entire drive. She had to be okay. She would be okay. He repeated the assurance over and over again in his head, but the panic refused to dissipate. It had wrapped around his chest like a boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of him.
That he was going to the hospital only made it harder to breathe. The last time he’d been at St. Mary’s was after Alana’s mastectomy. The surgery hadn’t worked, and the cancer had spread, and three months later, she was gone.
Shane didn’t know how his shaky legs managed to carry him to the front entrance. He had no idea how he got inside, how he ended up in the ER waiting room, what he said to the orderly at the nurses’ station. But he snapped back to reality the moment the man in the green scrubs informed him there was no record of a Jill Marshall being admitted.
“I was told she’s here,” Shane argued. “Check again, damn it.”
“Shane?”
All the oxygen was sucked out of his lungs as he heard Jill’s voice.
Shane spun around, frantically taking in the sight of her, his gaze doing a mad sweep in search of bruises, cuts, any sign of injury. But she looked unharmed. Safe. Alive.
“Thank God!”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged the living daylights out of her, and the feel of her slender body tight to his nearly brought tears to his eyes. When he took a breath and inhaled the sweet scent of orange blossoms and woman, the familiar fragrance made him sag against her.
“Christ,” he choked out. “I was so worried.”
Her confused voice was muffled against his chest. “What are you doing here?”
He relaxed his grip, but didn’t let her go. “I called the restaurant and Susie said there was an accident, and then she hung up before telling me what happened!”
Jill’s green eyes widened. “Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. You thought…?”
“I thought you were in the hospital.” A lump clogged his throat. “I thought you were hurt.”
“I’m not. Seriously, I’m fine, Shane. One of our lunch chefs cut his finger when he was slicing tomatoes.” She grimaced. “Sliced the tip right off, actually. I have no idea if they’ll be able to sew it back on, or if they’ll even have to.”
Shane barely registered what she’d said. He’d heard chef and finger, and as awful as that was for the chef and his finger, he was too overcome with relief and gratitude over the fact that Jill was standing here in front of him, safe and sound.
Jill was still talking, oblivious to the storm of emotion whirling inside him. “Vincent insists that fingertips grow back, but I’m not too sure about—”
“I’m in love with you,” Shane blurted out.
Her jaw snapped shut. Then opened again. “What?”
“I’m in love with you,” he repeated.
She blinked a couple times, angling her head in confusion. “You are?”
He nodded.
In typical Jill fashion, she crossed her arms and said, “Since when?”
Shane gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. It caught me by surprise, too.”
“Uh-huh. I see.” Her lips twitched. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you got scared that I might be dead?”
“I’m sure.” The lump in his throat got bigger, harder to swallow, but he managed to speak past it. “I figured it out in Nevada, long before I spoke to Susie.”
“I see,” she said again.
“That’s it?” Frustration rose inside him. “I bare my soul to you and that’s all you’ve got to say?”
JILL HAD A tough time keeping from laughing. Shane looked incredibly offended, but did the man really think that saying “I’m in love with you” and nothing else would make her forget that he’d walked away from her? He hadn’t called her once in the week he’d been gone. Hadn’t given her any indication that he’d changed his mind about their relationship.
If he truly believed she’d take him back without some hardcore groveling, he was nuts.
“You didn’t bare your soul,” she answered, wagging an accusing finger. “You just said you love me.”
Shane sighed. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Ha. Yeah, right, dude. I’m gonna need more than that.”
The waiting room was packed, so she sauntered toward the corridor. He stayed hot on her heels, and with his muscular body clad in green camo pants, a black long-sleeve shirt, and dusty boots, he looked good enough to eat. Big and manly and oozing power.
But he still wasn’t groveling.
Jill folded her arms and fixed him with a stern look. “What changed?”
He hesitated for a second. “I guess I did.”
“Why? How?”
“I missed you,” he said simply. “And I realized that I can’t lose you. No. I realized that I was pushing you away so I wouldn’t lose you.”
The crack in his voice made her eyebrows soar. She’d never seen Shane look vulnerable before, but he did now. He was all but standing naked in front of her, his blue eyes revealing an emotion he’d never let her see before.
Fear.
“I was a mess after Alana died,” he said hoarsely. “Losing her was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, and trust me, I’ve experienced some pretty gruesome shit. But losing someone you love
…watching her wither away while you can’t do a damn thing to stop it? It was torture.” He gulped. “I never want to go through that again.”
“Nobody does,” she murmured.
“But I don’t want to be alone anymore.” His gaze shone bright, earnest. “I’m ready to take the risk, baby.”
“What risk?”
“Of opening my heart to someone again,” he said thickly. “Opening my heart to you.”
Her pulse sped up. “Do you really mean that?”
“Yes.” His conviction rippled in the air between them. “I loved my wife, Jill. I loved her so damn much, and a part of me always will, but she’s gone.”
Wariness prickled her spine. “I…I can’t be a…replacement…” She struggled for the right words. “I’m not Alana, Shane.”
“I know that. And I don’t want you to be. I loved her for who she was, and I love you for who you are. I love your enthusiasm and your confidence. I love talking to you and kissing you and making love to you. I don’t want to give that up, even if it means accepting the possibility that I might lose you one day.”
“You won’t lose me,” she whispered.
Shane’s expression flickered with regret. “I might. Someday. Maybe even today if you decide not to take my dumbass self back. But it could happen, and I’ll just have to deal with that.”
“It won’t,” she vowed. “I don’t want you to lose me, and you already know this, but…I always get what I want.”
A grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “Does that mean you forgive me for being such a stubborn, terrified ass?”
She grinned back. “What would you do if I said no?”
“I’d get down on my knees and start begging. And if that didn’t work, I’d leave this hospital and give you a day of space, and after that I’d be at your door again, on my knees again, begging some more. I won’t give up, Jill, not unless I’m convinced that there’s no hope for us. But I know there is, and I’m going to keep trying until you give us a chance.”
His intensity floored her. So did the sheer force behind his words. He meant it. He wouldn’t walk away from her again.
“Okay.”
Shane froze. “Okay, what?”
“I’ll give us another chance.”
The biggest, goofiest smile she’d ever seen stretched across his face. “You will?”
“Of course I will, you idiot. I’m in love with you, too, in case you didn’t figure it out.”
“Why is everyone calling me an idiot lately?” he grumbled.
“Because you’ve been acting like one.” She beamed at him. “No worries, though. I’m willing to whip you into shape.”
“Sweetheart, you can whip me any time you want.”
His seductive wink sent a shiver racing through her body. She was about to respond with a saucy remark about whipping being a wonderful form of punishment when his expression turned serious.
“What about my deployment?” he said quietly.
“What about it?”
“Six months is a long time. I would totally understand if you didn’t want to wait around.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What, you think I can’t keep my pants zipped for six measly months?”
Humor danced in his eyes. “Well, you did try to lure me into bed within hours of meeting me…”
“That was just a test,” she answered in a prim voice. “To see if you were a manwhore. Guess what—you passed.”
He chuckled before going somber again. “Six months, though…”
“The time will fly by, just you watch.” Her tone was flippant, but the thought of having no contact with him for that long was a tad upsetting. “Will we be able to email? Skype?”
“As often as I can,” he promised.
“Can I email you sexy pictures?”
“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”
Jill laughed. “Okay, but make sure none of your teammates see them. Especially Duke. I don’t trust him not to send out a naked email blast of me.”
Shane’s eyes darkened ominously. “If Donovan ever tried to look at a naked picture of you, I’d rip his balls off.”
“Ooooh, look at you, Mr. Possessive. Down, boy.” She grasped the front of his shirt, bunching it up between her fingers to pull him closer. “Now will you kiss me already? This reunion can’t be official until your tongue is inside my mouth.”
“I like the way you operate,” Shane said solemnly.
And then he thrust his fingers in her hair and put his tongue exactly where she wanted it.
Epilogue
‡
Six Months Later
From: (undisclosed sender)
To: [email protected]
Subject: (none)
I miss you. I love you. I’m coming home.
Jill smiled as she read Shane’s email. It was only three short sentences, yet the way her heart soared, you’d think he’d penned a ten-page love letter in elaborate calligraphy.
She’d waited six long months for this day.
Six months of constant emails interspersed with weeks of radio silence.
Six months of rare Skype sessions that somehow always involved her top coming off.
Six months of prayers for Shane’s safety, and six months of relief each time he checked in to let her know he was all right.
And now her man was finally coming home.
“Jill, Vincent needs you,” one of her waiters called as he hurried by with a tray of wine glasses. “He’s in the kitchen.”
She glanced around the restaurant for a moment, happily noting that every table was filled even though it was only six o’clock on a Monday. The sounds of clinking silverware, classical music and low voices wafted through the room, but Jill tuned it all out as she typed a quick response into her phone.
I miss you. I love you. I’ll be waiting.
The End
Other Titles by Elle Kennedy
The East Coast 8 series kicks off in early 2015! Up first—Duke Donovan, a bona fide player who’s about to meet his match.
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If you enjoyed Shane and Jill’s story, read the Out of Uniform series that started it all…
Heat of the Moment *** currently FREE at all retailers
Heat of Passion ***Carson and Holly’s book
Heat of the Storm
Heat It Up
Heat of the Night
The Heat Is On
Hot and Bothered (print anthology, includes books 1-3)
Hot and Heavy (print anthology, includes books 4-6)
Feeling Hot
Getting Hotter
Hotter Than Ever
A Little Bit of Hot (free short story)
As Hot as it Gets
More Elle Kennedy erotic contemporary and romantic suspense titles available on Elle’s website.
Innocence Burned
Eliza Gayle
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Copyright © 2014
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About The Book
Houston Reed returns home from serving his country with no intention of rejoining the motorcycle club that is his legacy. But a random encounter with a beautiful woman changes everything and he’s thrown back into the life he never wanted but must now accept.
Chapter One
Houston
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THE ONE PLACE Houston hoped to never return to again loomed in front of him.
Home.
Despite the dread sitting in his gut, he admired the view from his seat as the train entered the Sultan city limits. Rich, green trees with leaves tipped in yellow surrounded an eclectic mix of old and ne
w buildings. While only a short ride from the busy city of Seattle, this small town felt like a completely different world with a much slower pace. With the mountains to serve as a breathtaking backdrop and a well-preserved, old-fashioned town set below, it was still as pretty as any postcard. Early fall meant no snow yet, but before long it would blanket the mountains and bring the cooler temperatures with it.
If not for the heavy cloak of the past weighing heavily on his shoulders, he would enjoy the beauty in front of him. As it was, the only decent thing about his arrival would be getting out of this cramped seat and stretching his aching leg. Getting hit by a stray IED six months ago had done more than bang up his leg and leave some scars on his body. He rubbed the soreness surrounding his right knee. It abruptly ended his career in the Marine Corps and left him with no choice but to return to his childhood home.
After cutting ties, he lived free of his father’s legacy, the Sultans of Wrath motorcycle club for ten years. For once his life had not included drugs, or illegal weapons, or the constant threat of a raid that could lead to some or all of them being sent to prison. The violence and death on the other hand, escalated. War wasn’t easy, nor was it pretty. But it had felt right clear to his bones. That was exactly the path he needed when he was eighteen years old and it was still the path he needed at twenty-eight. That it could be yanked out from underneath him in the blink of an eye still took his breath away.
The train eased into the station, blocking his view of the town, and came to a stop. Houston stood and grabbed his C-bag, stretching his arms and legs as he moved. The final segment of his trip that started in Oceanside, California was only a couple of hours but that’s all it took to tighten him up.
He exited the train and breathed in the fresh air. Now to find a ride. With his father incarcerated and his brother God knew where with his secret FBI shit, Houston was on his own to get home. Fortunately, with the flock of tourists that made their way through the town this time of year, cabs were easy enough to come by.
