Rhonda+Nelson+-+The+Soldier (3 page)

Her gaze finally bumped into his and the answering heat and confusion she saw there

momentarily knocked the breath out of her. He blinked, dispelling the illusion, leaving her

disoriented. Feeling a blush race to her hairline, she righted herself and, hands trembling,

straightened her shirt.

“Mark Holbrook doesn’t know one end of the bat from the other,”

he said, his voice irritated,

but not altogether steady. “Surely you can do better than that.”

Funny, Winnie thought. He almost looked…jealous. Another trick of her lust-ridden mind. He

wouldn’t be jealous on her account. He was only annoyed at the implied competition. She’d

counted on that. It was the cornerstone of her goad-him-into-better-health plan.

Besides, Adam had always hated Mark Holbrook. Mark had an over-inflated opinion of his own

intelligence, wit and skill. In truth, Mark was a self-important jackass, but Winnie wasn’t above

using Adam’s intense dislike of Mark to her own advantage.

She arched a brow and glared at him. “I’ve been trying to get someone better,” she said

pointedly, her lips twisting into a smile. “But I’m not having much luck.”

But from the speculative look in his eye, Winnie suspected her luck was about to change. She

resisted the swell of hope that expanded in her chest, but couldn’t quite fully tamp it down.

She released a small expectant breath. “So, what do you say, Coach? Will you help me?”

3

WILL YOU HELP ME?Four innocent little words and yet, irrationally, Adam felt like he was

being cornered, forced into some sort of trap…like the almost irresistible one that lurked

between her thighs. Something told him if he ever found himself there, he’d never want to leave.

But the idea of Mark Holbrook, the opportunistic bastard, taking his place was enough to set his

teeth on edge. How could she even consider that muscle-bound gym-rat as a comparable

replacement for Adam? Had she lost her mind? Was she purposely trying to make him lose his?

Probably, he thought broodingly…and it was working.

The merest notion of another guy coming to her rescue was about as palatable as a steaming

plate of goose shit, and he couldn’t stomach, either.

He slid her an appraising glance. “Do you really need my help or have you been given

instructions to babysit me?” Natalie’s “stop avoiding Winnie”

comment the last time they’d

talked came to mind, pricking his suspicions. It would be so like his friend to enlist Winnie’s

help in keeping him occupied. In keeping him sane and entertained. He knew both Levi and his

new wife were worried about him.

Admittedly, Adam’s mood had sort of taken a nosedive since they’d left, but this had been the

first time since the accident that he’d actually been left alone, to try and sort out his thoughts. To

grieve. The shrink at the Center had warned him of this possibility, but Adam didn’t think he was

truly in danger of becoming clinically depressed. He just wanted a little room to breathe.

His gaze slid over Winnie’s smooth cheek. And breathing around Winnie Cuthbert was damned

dangerous.

Especially right now. He watched her pulse flutter beneath her creamy skin and longed to taste

that spot, to tug her back down against his chest. Her fingers were still entwined in his, soft but

strong, and he had the oddest sensation of homecoming, of being anchored instead of drifting

aimlessly.

He’d been drifting for months now and had to admit the grounded sensation was particularly

nice.

Even if he had the time—which he did not—it would be beyond selfish to be with her, to

encourage any sort of relationship at all. Even continuing their friendship, when he knew how

much he wanted her and how she felt about him, was risky. She needed a guy who was going to

keep a permanent address in Bethel Bay, not one who already had a foot—albeit a fake one—

already out of town.

“I need help,” Winnie insisted, but a guilty flush gave her away, signaling that her motives

weren’t entirely pure.

He waited, staring at her. Predictably, she caved.

Winnie rolled her eyes and released an annoyed breath. “And, of course, everybody’s worried

about you.” She snorted. “Though I don’t know where you’d get the idea that you’d need a

babysitter.” She smiled at him and a devilish twinkle lit her gaze.

“You’ve got your mom to do

that.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “That’s uncalled for.”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “You’re the one who won’t come out from behind her skirt.”

“Knock it off, Winnie.”

“Get out of bed, Adam.”

He frowned, silently admitting that the reprimand was deserved.

He did need to get out of bed.

Particularly if she wasn’t going to join him in it. Another flash of this morning’s dream reeled

through his mind, forcing him to shift the blanket once again. He glared at her, though it was

hardly fierce. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

A grin slid over her ripe lips. “You might have mentioned it…a few thousand times.”

He speared his fingers through his hair and tugged, letting go a small groan. He gazed at her

consideringly. “Exactly how much time is this going to take?” he asked.

Her eyes brightened. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” he corrected. “Time?”

“We’ve got practice today from three-thirty to five. I thought I’d work some drills with the

fielders and you could handle batting practice.”

“An hour an a half? That’s all?”

“Well, that’s all today,” she qualified. “There’ll be other practices and, of course, the games.”

“Three games, right?” He wondered why he was stalling. He knew he was going to help her, if

for no other reason than to keep Mark Holbrook out of the picture.

No doubt the scheming little monster knew that.

Truthfully, he did need to get out of the house, to show his father that he was up to resuming his

post. Though retired, General Jack McPherson could still influence Adam’s career. If his father

saw that he was capable of returning to active duty, then Adam knew he would make an off-therecord

recommendation, regardless of how his wife felt about it.

Sharon McPherson had made it exceedingly clear which path she wished Adam would take.

Medic out. Come home. Do something else. She was billing it as an opportunity to pursue a

different dream—a second chance. What she couldn’t seem to grasp was that he’d never had a

different dream. Being a soldier was the only thing he’d ever considered.

He was third-generation military. He’d been born to do this, to protect and defend. To serve.

While other guys had been flipping through skin magazines—and he’d admit to taking the

occasional peek as well—he’d been studying American history, reading biographies of past

presidents and military leaders. He’d been absorbing military strategy, deconstructing every

conflict in order to see what worked and what hadn’t. His favorite game had been Risk and to

this day, he’d never lost. He inwardly smiled. World domination had always been his M.O.

Being a soldier was more than a career choice—it was who he was. It had been hard-wired into

his DNA, just as much a part of him as the skin on his body or the thoughts in his head.

He didn’t know what else to be and didn’t want to be anything else.

If he truly wanted that to happen, Winnie was right. He had to get out of bed.

And he had to stay the hell away from her.

Yes, he would help her with her softball team, but that would be the extent of it. She would see

that he was making progress and report back to Natalie and Levi.

Then she would have fulfilled

her duty and could leave him alone.

The idea stung. Even now his body yearned for a deeper connection with her, longed to hold her

hand again and so much more. Every cell in his body sang at her nearness. If she shifted the

slightest little bit, he could feel himself adjusting, leaning toward her. He’d never been more

attuned to a woman before, never wanted one with this sort of intensity.

It was a distraction he couldn’t afford. But…

“Three games and a couple practices? Is that right?”

She nodded, her expression cautiously hopeful. “That’s right.”

“I’ll do it on one condition,” he said, knowing he was going to regret this. This was a slippery

slope and he was already sliding.

She grinned, that adorable dimple winking in her left cheek.

“Name it.”

“I don’t ever want to hear the name Mark Holbrook leave your lips again,” he said darkly.

He’d be damned before he’d let the impressively manipulative little minx play that card again.

Scheming wench. When it came to strategy, she too was a force to be reckoned with. It was

strangely attractive, he thought with reluctant admiration. A worthy opponent.

But this was no game.

He watched her fight a smile and lose. A twinkle lit that dark blue gaze and something flashed

behind her eyes—satisfaction, maybe?—that he couldn’t readily identify.

Unexpectedly, she bent forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making his dick jerk hard in

response.

“I’ll see you at the park at three-thirty,” she said, then popped up and speedily left the room,

completely unaware of the little bomb of desire she’d just dropped into his lap.

Not that he’d needed it. He’d had a perpetual hard-on since his dream and the damned thing had

practically turned to granite when she plopped down on the side of his bed. He gritted his teeth,

willing the unyielding erection away.

Shit, Adam thought. If he didn’t get himself under control, playing ball was going to take on a

whole new meaning.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?”Jana Mulrooney asked, gesturing toward the drawing she’d

brought into the bakery for Winnie’s consideration. “Can you make a cake like this?”

“I can,” Winnie said slowly. She released an uncertain breath.

“But are you absolutely sure that

you want me to?”

A hard laugh gurgled up Jana’s throat and her light blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Eddie’s

balling his secretary, Winnie,” she said. “I’m sure.”

In her place, Winnie knew she’d undoubtedly feel the same, but Jana’s plan seemed a

little…extreme. Giving her cheating bastard of a husband a cake in the shape of a pile of dog doo

with the message “Eat Shit and Die” on the top was perfectly reasonable in Winnie’s book. But

presenting it to him at his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party was bad form.

Especially when Winnie was making their anniversary cake, as well.

She grimaced. “I’ll make the cake, Jana, but I think you should reconsider the timing,” she

tacked on gently.

For the first time, Jana’s anger slipped and her eyes filled with tears. She choked on another

bitter laugh. “Timing?” she parroted. “I’m pregnant, Winnie.

How’s that for timing?”

Winnie smothered a gasp and gave her old friend a sympathetic smile. “Oh, Jana, I don’t know

what to say.” Ordinarily congratulations would be in order, but in light of everything else, she

couldn’t begin to imagine how Jana must feel. On second thought, yes she could. Her eyes

narrowed.

She’d feel like killing him.

“Can I do anything?” Winnie asked softly.

Jana stuffed a Kleenex back into her purse and pushed her lips into a mangled smile. “Just make

the cake—I know it’s short notice—and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Winnie leaned against the counter. “Does he know?”

“No.” Jana sighed. She looked out of the plate-glass windows, onto the streets of Bethel Bay and

watched as people strolled along the quaint cobble-stoned walkways. “I was going to surprise

him at the office and I’m the one who came away surprised.” Her gaze turned inward, her voice

flat. “They never heard me knock, never heard me open the door. I just stood there, too stunned

to move, to say anything. It was like I was outside myself, watching from a different angle. I

don’t remember closing the door, or walking back to my car. I hurled right there in the parking

lot.” She looked at Winnie again. “This cake represents what I wish I’d said. How I wish I’d

reacted.” She shook her head. “I was just so stunned. I couldn’t make sense of it, you know?”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

Wow. “What are you going to do?”

“Beyond making him wish he was dead, I don’t know yet.”

“Jana, I’m so sorry. Do you want the cake to taste like shit, too?”

Winnie asked, more than

willing to do her part now.

She laughed weakly. “That would be impossible. Everything you make is out of this world.”

Pleased at the compliment, Winnie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. I try.”

And it was true. She was constantly testing new techniques, new recipes and ingredients to make

sure that her confections tasted as good as they looked. Otherwise, what was the point?

Odd how some things just fell into place. She remembered helping her grandmother make a

ginger bread house when she’d been just a kid. The first time she held an icing bag in her hand,

she knew she’d found her calling. She loved baking. Loved the scent of almond icing and sugar,

the smell of fresh bread in the oven. And there was nothing more beautiful than a perfect

wedding cake. Fondant, dragees and pearl dust were the favorite tools of her trade.

Thankfully she’d always had a healthy metabolism and a keen interest in sports to help

counteract the extra calories she consumed on a daily basis. She glanced around her bakery, her