Resisting the urge to fan herself, Myranda stabbed a piece of spinach with her fork. Why did she have to make everything he said sexual? He didn’t mean it that way and it was a huge disrespect for her to keep doing it to her business partner.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, which suited her fine. She needed a minute to collect herself.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Brogan said.
“Me, too. Thank you.” She poked at a strawberry in her salad. “I suppose the inheritance came as quite a surprise for you.”
“You could say that.”
“If it’s any consolation, I knew nothing about it either. My father liked to surprise people.”
His brow lifted. “Some surprise.”
“Yeah. His heart was in the right place. He tended to lead with his feelings.” She’d loved that about him. He wore his heart on his sleeve and had enough compassion for the entire world.
“He sounds like a good man.”
“He was.” Grief rose in her throat, but she choked it down with a sip of wine.
“Can I ask why he left me half the spa? It’s a bit over the top as a thank you.”
She smiled. “That was my dad. Nothing was ever too much for him. You know, he made this place what it is today. He never thought small. Only saw the possibilities in what we could accomplish and how many people we could help.”
“I get that.”
They shared a moment and her stomach dropped. No, she refused to see him as anything except a silent partner. Being human made it all right for her to be attracted to him. Being partners made it not.
She had to keep it at not.
Chapter Four
“Let me help.” Brogan offered, strolling into the kitchen. He’d cleaned the grill and put the cover on while Myranda cleared the table. She put the leftovers away and now stacked dishes in the dishwasher.
“Thanks.” She handed him a plate and he put it in the bottom rack. “You really don’t have to help. You’re my guest.”
He wanted to be more than a guest. The thought flew through his head, catching him off guard. Where did that come from? They’d only just met. Officially, that is. She’d been on his mind for two years. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times. Like during a training exercise. He’d never admit he’d been distracted by the pretty redhead during his jump and he sure as hell wouldn’t let it happen again. Distractions like that could get him or one of his other teammates killed.
“I don’t mind,” he said, shaking off his thoughts.
She handed him a platter, then asked quickly, as if afraid of the answer. “Did you get enough to eat?”
Surprised by her uncertainty he said, “I did. Everything was delicious.”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit. He was learning that she carried her stress and emotions in her shoulders. She had a pretty good poker face, but her body language spoke volumes.
“Oh, good. For a man like you I thought for sure you’d need more.” She passed him a bowl, eyes going wide as if she hadn’t meant to say that.
He couldn’t resist needling her. “A man like me?”
Her gaze dropped to the glass in her hand. “I just meant you seem more like a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“I do?”
The tension had returned to her shoulders. Flustered, she said, “You know what I mean.”
Intrigued by her uneasiness he took the glass from her and put it on the top rack. From the moment he’d met her she’d been cool, calm, collected. A woman completely in charge and capable of handling anything. Hell, she ran a business on her own. What had her so rattled? Certainly not him. He didn’t draw the kind of female attention some of his teammates did. Mikey drew them like flies to honey. All Demarco had to do was smile at them and they shucked their clothes. Taggart charmed the pants off them. Hence, the suggestions that he tone it down a bit if he ever wanted to get laid.
Which really pissed him off. He had his share of female companionship. He just preferred to get to know a woman first. Not just use her for sex and move on. He’d been on the receiving end of that once and it left him feeling like shit.
“I happen to eat fairly healthy,” he said, closing the dishwasher and running a cycle. “When I’m home I prefer fresh food as opposed to processed. Don’t get much of that in the field.”
She wiped her hands on a towel. “No, I suppose you don’t. Well, thanks for that. I feel better knowing I didn’t starve you to death.”
He chuckled. She definitely had her dad’s compassion. “I’m stuffed. Scouts honor.”
A smile touched her soft lips. “You were a scout, too?”
“Yep.”
This time she laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
Her musical laugh went against everything he knew about her. It was carefree and unrestrained. He could spend the rest of his days listening to her laugh.
Whoa.
Back up.
Getting way ahead of himself here. There couldn’t be anything sexual between them. He’d come for business, not pleasure. And, damn, spending even a small amount of time with this woman felt like pleasure.
“I have some work to do. You’re welcome to watch television or shower or whatever you’d like.”
He nodded and watched her walk out of the room. He’d never really found women in business suits that attractive, but seeing Myranda in that tight skirt and blouse just might change his mind.
Lightning flashed as he turned off the kitchen lights and headed for the guest bedroom. A shower sounded good. Then bed. The drive had caught up with him. He grabbed his duffle and closed himself in the bathroom. Best to sleep off any attraction he felt for Myranda because tomorrow he was leaving to return to his life. A life that didn’t include sexy redheads with a killer laugh.
****
A crack of thunder brought Brogan awake with a start. Rain pounded on the roof. Wind whistled past the windows. Storm had amped up since he’d fallen asleep. As tired as he’d been, sleep hadn’t come easy. His thoughts kept drifting to Myranda. And they weren’t all that innocent.
Tossing back the covers, he swung his feet to the floor. Lightning flashed, bright and angry. The ceiling fan had stopped. The room felt warmer than it had earlier. A glance at the bedside table showed a dark screen on the digital clock.
He rose to his feet and felt around the floor for his clothes. He’d just finished buttoning his cargo shorts when a knock sounded on the door followed by an urgent, “Brogan?”
“I’m up.”
The door swung open. A single ray of light danced around the room, landing on him.
“Power’s out,” Myranda said. “I brought a couple flashlights.”
She tossed him one and he caught it midair. He clicked it on. Myranda stood in the doorway wearing a pair of yoga pants and tank top that hugged her slender body. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, showing off her delicate features.
“Do you have a battery-operated radio?”
“Not here. In my office. I keep it there for emergencies.”
Brogan followed her down the hall and into the foyer where they slipped on their shoes. Myranda opened a closet door and handed him a raincoat. Grey, with a Serenity Spa logo. He slipped it on and she did the same.
“Ready?” he asked, hand on the door handle.
“Yes.”
Bracing himself he pulled the door open, only to have it ripped from his hand by a giant gust of wind. It banged against the wall. Rain pelted his face and body. He grabbed Myranda’s hand. “Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
Together they darted into the storm. Fighting their way against heavy winds and pounding rain they managed to get to the back door of the spa. Myranda fumbled with the lock, her wet fingers sliding on the keys. When it finally opened they fell inside and he forced the door closed.
Myranda led the way to her office where she pulled a radio out of a drawer. Before she could turn it on he held up a hand. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
&n
bsp; She cocked her head. “All I hear is the storm.”
“No. It’s something else. Is there a train track close to here?”
Her eyes widened. “No. But tornadoes have been described as sounding like a freight train.”
Their eyes met.
“I have to get the guests to safety. Those cabins don’t have cellars.”
She rushed toward him, but he blocked her way. “No. If we can hear the tornado then it’s close enough to harm us.”
“I can’t leave them out there.” Panic raised her voice.
The rumbling grew louder. “No time. We have to go. Where’s the nearest room without windows?”
A tree branch crashed through the window. Myranda screamed. Wind so loud he had to shout to be heard blew past them. “Where, Myranda?” He gave her a shake, snapping her out of her terror.
“This way.”
Together they ran toward the treatment rooms. Behind them glass shattered. Hell, sounded like the whole building was coming down. Myranda skid to a stop in front of one of the doors and threw it open. He slammed it closed behind them and shined the flashlight around the room. Two massage tables, a mirror above a sink lined with various bottles of oil and towels. No windows. And nowhere to take cover except underneath one of the tables.
Grabbing Myranda’s hand, he pulled her beneath the table furthest from the wall. Not much room, but it would work. Crouched low, he put an arm around Myranda’s shoulders, protecting her with his body. She clung to him, crying out every time something exploded or hit the side of the building.
He’d been in hot zones more times than he could count. This reminded him of the times he and his team had to engage the enemy. Only instead of gunfire and mortars he was surrounded by deafening winds and crashes as the structure tore apart around them.
Glass shattered around them as the walls around them began to shake. Brogan covered Myranda’s head with his arms, wrapping himself around her. The table flipped off them, slamming against the far wall.
“Get down,” he shouted, forcing her to lay prone, him on top of her. He kept her head covered as shit swirled around them like a scene from Poltergeist.
Wood splintered above him. The last thing he remembered was protecting Myranda and her terrified cry before everything went black.
****
With a hefty push, Myranda rolled Brogan’s limp body off of hers. Everything around her was quiet now. Except for the settling of the wreckage around her.
It seemed like forever since Brogan had passed out. She’d been afraid to move him until she was certain the storm had passed.
Rising to her knees she fumbled for her flashlight. When she found it she turned it on. Nothing. With a curse she tossed it aside. Using her hands to navigate the darkness she touched Brogan’s muscular chest, relieved when it rose and fell at a steady pace. Thank God. Taking a moment to pull herself together, she kept a hand on his chest and drew in a couple shaky breaths.
Calmer now, she gave him a shake, wishing she could see his face. Something fell behind her and she jumped, laying over Brogan on instinct. When his arms came around her she gasped. Before she could react he had flipped her over and lay on top of her. Given different circumstances she would have let herself enjoy his weight on top of her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, close to her ear, sending a tingle throughout her.
“I’m fine. You’re the one who passed out.”
“Sorry about that. Something caught me on the back of the head.”
She pushed against him. “Then get off me and let me see.”
“Lost my flashlight. Nothing to see with.”
This time when she attempted to dislodge him he rolled off her and sat beside her. She sat up, concerned when she felt him sway into her.
More noise around them. This time like the roof caved in. On impulse she pressed against Brogan, feeling his arms come around her. Strong and safe.
“Let’s get out of here,” she suggested.
“Good idea. Did you bring your cell phone?”
“No.” When the storm woke her up she’d quickly dressed, grabbed flashlights and went to get him. She’d been focused on getting to her guests, not her phone.
“Me, either.”
He clasped her hand in his and pulled them both to their feet. “This is going to be tricky. My night vision is pretty good so step exactly where I tell you to.”
“Okay.” She held tight to his hand as he maneuvered through debris toward the area where the wall had once been. A light breeze blew past, along with a few drops of rain, but for the most part the storm had passed.
“Careful,” Brogan warned. “Gets a bit slippery here.”
Her foot slipped at the same time he said it. She let out a small hiss of pain when her ankle twisted and lodged between some rubble. When she tried to pull it free whatever held it only gripped tighter.
“I’m stuck,” she said, trying to keep the alarm from her voice.
“Hold still.”
He let go of her hand and she felt his slide down her legs until they reached her foot. Even through the thin fabric of her yoga pants she could feel the heat from his touch.
“You’re trapped between two pieces of stone or marble. Can’t really tell.”
“The countertops were made of marble.”
“Could be it. Either way, they’re heavy.”
Her heartbeat sped up. “Can you lift it?”
“I’m gonna try like hell.”
“What can I do?”
His strong hand wrapped around her ankle. “Pull when I tell you to.”
“Okay.”
She braced herself when he put pressure on her ankle. He grunted, cursing beneath his breath as whatever held her foot moved the slightest inch.
“It’s moving,” she said eagerly.
More pressure. Another grunt.
“Now,” Brogan commanded.
She pulled, he pushed and her ankle sprung free. Momentum caused her to stumble a couple steps. Brogan’s hand on her wrist prevented her from falling.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes.” Might hurt like crazy, but she wanted out of this building.
The warm glow of early morning greeted them as they picked their way free from the rubble. Myranda took one look around her and felt her heart drop to her feet. She did a slow circle, horror making her nauseated.
“It’s ruined,” she whispered, unable to believe what she saw. “All of it. Gone.”
Chapter Five
Head pounding, Brogan followed Myranda’s gaze. The tornado had plowed a path through the main buildings and continued on toward the cabins where the guests stayed.
“I have to go check on the guests,” Myranda said woodenly. “There might be injuries.”
He caught her arm. “Why don’t you go find a phone and call 911. I’m a medic. I’ll go check on the guests.”
Her eyes held shock he could relate to. He’d seen his share of disasters, but none of them had hit home like seeing the look in Myranda’s eyes.
“But you’re bleeding,” she said. “You’re hurt.”
She sounded surprised and confused. Definitely in shock.
“Just a scratch,” he said. “Can you go find a phone?”
She nodded. He didn’t trust she was thinking clearly so he said, “Come on.”
With her limping slightly and him bleeding like a fool, they followed the path of destruction to the guest’s cabins. Myranda gasped when she saw what the storm had done. Cabins lay in disarray. Some still standing, some demolished. Tree branches and debris lay everywhere. Everywhere they looked they saw devastation. People wandering around in shock, some injured, some just staring blankly at the rubble.
“Oh my God,” Myranda murmured. “I have to help them.”
He wasn’t sure she could help herself right now so he led her to a uprooted tree and gently pushed her down so she sat on it. “Stay here while I make sure it’s safe. Then you can help me.”
Leaving her sitting there, he jumped into action. Rounding up guests and sending them to one of the standing cabins. One for the seriously injured, one for the less critical. He did on the spot triage before pointing them to the proper place. Most were minor injuries, but he couldn’t treat any of them without supplies.
Over halfway through he felt a hand touch his arm. He glanced over to see Myranda standing there, holding a stack of first aid kits.
“I scoured the cabins for them,” she said, sounding much more put together now. “I also found someone’s cell phone and called 911. The authorities should be here soon.”
He accepted the kits. “Thank you. Want to go into Cabin Two and keep them calm while I treat Cabin One?”
“After I bandage that wound on your head.”
“Not necessary. Here, take one of these in case you need it.” He handed her a first aid kit. “Do what you can until the paramedics get here.”
With a firm nod she did as asked and headed for the second standing cabin. Her limp wasn’t as pronounced now, but still there. He didn’t waste time going into the first cabin and starting treatment of the major injuries. Here, he was in his element. Unlike the spa where he felt like an outsider.
The second he walked in an elderly woman approached him and touched his arm. A nasty gash ran the length of her temple.
“Please,” she said. “Help my husband.”
All hell seemed to break loose the instant she spoke. As if everyone found their voices at once. Brogan started ordering people to stand down, placing them in order of seriousness of their injury. In chaos he thrived. It was what he did. This chaos didn’t compare to being in the field.
The elderly woman’s husband was in worse shape than he’d hoped. The man clutched his chest, face tightened in pain.
“He has a history of heart problems,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.
Brogan did a precursory exam. “The paramedics are on the way. I don’t have anything to treat a heart attack in my kits.” He turned to the wife. “Do you have any aspirin in your purse?”
How she’d managed to grab her purse during a tornado had him stumped, but it just might be the only chance her husband had of survival.
A SEALs Promise Jennifer Lowery-EPUB Page 3
