A Spartan's Kiss (47 page)

Big and Smiling gave her an encouraging nod. Heartbreaker didn’t. She sensed disapproval in his serious expression. Didn’t that take the cake? Not only did she have the hots for a guy, but he was one of those big, domineering guys who thought he knew what was best for her, so much better than anyone else did.

“How old are you?” Heartbreaker asked.

Lacey blinked at the rapid-fire question. Did she look too young to drive alone?

“Just wondering. Travelling alone and all.” He glanced significantly down at her hands and she wanted to groan. God, she should have bought a ring, worn anything that said,
yep, I’m taken and he’s a huge linebacker who will kick your ass
. Not that the man drilling her for questions would have thought that, even if she had worn a ring.

She
was
alone. Probably looked it, too. Yep. No cat. No dog. No friends. No job.

Still, she wasn’t answering his question and she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Yep, it was a long trip. So…” She trailed off, hoping they’d take the hint.

“If you follow us, we’ll show you Rob’s. I’m Russ Ryland; this is Tim Brighton. We own the Double R and T Ranch.”

“I’m…S-Susan. Fielding.”
Shit, that’s it, stumble over your own new name.
She usually went by her nickname, Lacey, but now she couldn’t use that, or Sarah, her real name. So, Susan she was. Gah—she really didn’t like the name. It reminded her of a girl back home who had always snubbed her in gym class.

“Ah, nice to meet you, Susan.” Big and Smiling sounded like he’d not missed her stumble.

“Brr—cold out here, huh? Well, it’s nice to meet you both. I’m off. One hour? Great. One more hour to get there, then deal with the realtor, then I can finally take a nap. Later.” Without waiting for a response, she got the truck door open without a fumble and hopped in with a quick wave to the big guys. They hadn’t moved, but she dipped her head and strapped on her seatbelt. When she looked in her rear-view mirror they were already getting in their white truck.

It was only after she’d started the truck and pulled out after them that she realised Russ Ryland—Mr Handsome and Domineering—
how old are you?
—had been standing on her right and would have been able to see her scar. Was that why he had stared at her so intently?

Men with scars were hot. Women? Nah, not so much. Even if hers was kinda cool, a starburst kinda thing on her temple. Lighter now, but still pink and slightly swollen. The doctors had said the scar would fade to silver. Soon. But not now.

The memory of getting it? That wasn’t fading soon enough.

Russ took a deep breath and shifted in his truck seat.

Not in a million years would he have believed he’d come back from a fucked-up mission in Columbia and run smack into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he’d seen his fair share of women. But none like this one. Small, delicate, soft, and moving into his town.

His neglected dick punched more fully against his Wranglers when he thought about her soft, shy smile. She’d not only looked delicate standing outside her truck, she’d looked scared. He reached up and scratched his cheek. Not scared, maybe—well, yeah, maybe—but vulnerable, too. He’d had to concentrate on her eyes to see the flash of fear, but it’d been there. She’d been brave, too, facing off against two men she didn’t know on the side of a highway. Still, something about her had said she was scared, so the bad boy roaring for action below his belt needed to calm down. Susan was new, and, by the look of her, she wasn’t a simple romp in the hay. She was a keeper.

He’d not missed the look of a woman who’d seen too much of the nastier side of life and lived through it. He’d seen that look too many times. He’d faced the same expression on a few of his teammates. Every mission, every battle, every assignment held danger. Sometimes life threw some punches you couldn’t dodge, and you couldn’t handle them when they landed. ‘Sucker’ had a new meaning when you were suddenly flat on your ass in some desert with several semi-automatics pointed at your head.

He was weary of it. Weary of the chase, the catch, and the kills.

He probably wore the same look she had. It was a starkness, a kind of tired resignation that came on when you knew that one more hit, and you’d not come back up. But he didn’t wear fear. And he sure didn’t wear that smile.

No, Ace Man didn’t smile. Even when he lived up to his nickname, Ace in the Hole, he barely smiled. Not until the mission was done, the fees paid, and the men safe in the barracks. Then he might crack a grin, but not before.

But this woman? She’d been through something. And she’d still smiled softly up at him and he’d known, just known he wasn’t smiling down at her. He’d been too focused, too…pissed off at her for being all alone, he realised. Somehow, her being alone and scared had pissed him off.

On some level, he recognised that she brought out his male instinct to protect, like nothing he’d ever experienced outside of combat. After more than fourteen years of service, ten years of it in the SEALs, he recognised when his body was set for battle. And it wasn’t from the fight he’d left behind in the mountains of Columbia. He was primed to protect a woman he’d just met. Simply meeting her eyes and seeing fear there had clicked his brain into that centred, focused level he usually only hit during a mission.

Eagle laughed low next to him, pulling him out of his misery.

“Damn, Ace, you really can sweet-talk the ladies.
How old are you?
” he mimicked and shook his head. “Why not say,
hey, are you old enough for a quick fuck
?”

Ace gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles cracked. “Shut up. Don’t talk about her like that,” he tacked on for good measure. He didn’t like the idea of Eagle thinking along those lines. Or talking about her like that. Or looking at her.

He did a mental catalogue of what he wanted, and sure, he wanted her in a bed, but he wanted more. His body felt like it was never going down, but his thoughts weren’t centred only on sex. He wanted—needed to lay claim to her.

He mulled that realisation over. The thought should have spooked the hell out of him. But it didn’t. He’d met her—or not even really met her—and here he was driving around thinking of fucking her, which for once in his life made him feel like a sorry son of a bitch, and now he was thinking what? A relationship? He laughed and shook his head.

Eagle gave him a long look, “I’ve never seen you so out of your element. You scared the piss out of the poor girl. She was alone, on the side of the road, and did you even try to look less intimidating—?”

He shot Eagle a look, and his buddy snapped his jaw shut with another laugh.

“She was alone. All that way. Alone. She probably didn’t even have a gun and she was driving across country. What was she thinking? Doesn’t she read the news? Watch the TV? Listen to the radio?”

Well, at least she was single. No way would a guy let such a woman out of his sight. And if he had? Well, the guy didn’t deserve her anyway.

Eagle barked a laugh and shook his head. “What the hell? A gun? Of course not. What would a pretty girl like that have a gun for?”

If she’d been his, he’d have made sure she’d had a gun. “And now she’s going to live alone. Here.”

He got another amused look from Eagle, but he ignored him. He
was
a little out of his element here. He hadn’t expected to see such a beautiful woman in his town. His place. Alone. Without anyone. He wanted to know everything about her. Find out what made her tick. And what frightened her. And who’d given her the scar.

He’d not missed the mark on her temple. He could shut his eyes and describe every inch of her he’d been able to see, and guess at a few others.

Her hair had been shiny black against the soft sky blue of her eyes and the pink of her cheeks. He knew her breasts would be firm and high. His dick had filled at the sight of her little nipples outlined under her T-shirt. Some band across the front of the soft material had drawn his eyes right to her breasts, making his hands itch so badly he’d shoved them in his jacket. Her ass had been a handful, too. He could imagine turning her hot body over and cupping those lush cheeks as he took her from behind. She’d love it, too. He’d make sure of it.

But not now. He needed to slow down the power of her appeal. Distil it. Or he was going to lose his mind. And with one look into those blue eyes, he’d known she’d needed him to slow down. Maybe she
had
been frightened of him. He hoped she hadn’t picked up on how hot he’d been for her.

He’d been in lust before.

This wasn’t it.

He’d let one woman in. Or at least part way, he realised. He couldn’t even clearly remember much about Melissa now. She’d been lush, too lush, now that he was thinking about Susan’s little body. She’d moved in with him and they’d had sex. That was pretty much the extent of it. There hadn’t been much more. When he’d gone on his first mission, she’d hooked up with another sailor within days of his departure. Life went on. No big deal. Melissa had been sex, no more. He could see that now. He’d never felt the complete need to protect her that he’d felt after two seconds in Susan’s company.

He wasn’t a sniper in the SEALs any longer. He wasn’t training men to do what he’d done. He was a rancher now. And bored to tears. He’d watched Susan reach up and do something with her hair. She even did that sexily. Right when he felt like life was settling down, in walks the perfect woman.

“So, this should be interesting,” Eagle rumbled next to him.

Tim, or Eagle—because the man had eagle eyes, and not only for enemy snipers—gave him a superior look. No doubt he thought he knew what Russ was thinking. It pissed him off that Eagle would try to read him now, but the man knew him.

Eagle was a man most wouldn’t want on their bad side. Good thing Russell had saved Eagle’s life as many times as the man had saved his. Iraq? Both been there, done it. Afghanistan? Worst fight he’d been in with no support other than his team, and still they’d all made it out alive. Columbia? Hell, yeah. And they’d got the captives back as well. They’d done a great deal together, and Russ would have Eagle’s back any day.

“Sometimes it happens like that, man. You see her and damn if it doesn’t feel like you’ve been sucker punched. Or stepped on a mine and need to chill until the team shows up and takes the trigger out. But, hey, maybe play it a little”—Eagle tilted his head to the side—“less aggressive? Smile, man—try it once in a while. The war’s over. Or at least for us it is, bro.”

Less aggressive? Shit, he had ideas flooding his brain faster than he could process, but being aggressive wasn’t one of them. Although, long, sweaty sex would definitely ease the hard-on he had going on. But he needed to think about this, about her, before he made a move. A sense of urgency to rush forward flooded him, even though he was known for his patience. He gripped the steering wheel tighter to tamp down his desires.

He might have his endurance tested with this little bit of a woman, he mused, adjusting the rear-view mirror to get a better look at her face.

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About the Author

Billi Jean has been writing since high school when she couldn’t wait for Robert Jordon to write his
Wheel of Time
series faster. She writes from home in a little two hundred year old farm house in Western Massachusetts where she shares her space with her active children, an old dog, and two lazy cats.

Email:
[email protected]

Billi Jean loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.total-e-bound.com
.

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