Cowboy Payback (6 page)

Her heart skipped a beat.
Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.

“A kiss.”

He said it.

Darn him.

Ask a dangerous question, receive a dangerous answer.

Idiot.

A thought crossed her mind, an equally dangerous one. One suggesting if she leaned forward just a little bit, they could actually test his theory. How foolish was that?

As foolish as the realization she contemplated that very move.

“See? Just the mere mention of the word
kiss
has rendered you speechless.” His grin returned full force.

Ever the practical joker and consummate tease, the captain reigned supreme. And that’s exactly what he was doing now. Besides pulling her away from her dark thoughts, he was definitely taunting. Trying to keep her off balance. Baffled. Confused. All so he could remain in command. But, technically, he wasn’t. Not anymore. Not since she resigned her commission. Captain Brennan was no longer officially her commanding officer.

No matter how many times she repeated that statement in head, her mind had trouble grasping the concept. The captain was not in charge of her anymore. He had no pull.

Okay, so not true. Not if that kiss was anything to go by. And now that he was no longer off limits, she’d like to go by for another kiss.

Naughty thoughts immediately battled for top position in her head. One such thought suggested she step closer and run her hands up that tempting muscled chest, over those broad shoulders and meet at the back of his neck in a blatant attempt to call his bluff.

At her estimation, two things could happen. One, the
captain
would be caught off balance, untangle himself, and run like a baby for the door.

She’d pay good money to see that.

Or two, the potent cowboy could do the opposite. Crush her close and claim her lips over and over, turning her into a trembling mass of goo while he kissed her as if he couldn’t survive without her taste.

Unwilling to risk the outcome, because the second scenario held way too much appeal, she decided there was only one thing to do. Shoot for left field.

Smiling, she cocked her head instead. “Your contract is up this week.”

“True.” His gaze narrowed. “What does that have to do with a kiss?”

“Nothing,” she replied, keeping the subject off kissing. Definitely off kissing. They were
not
going to talk about anything with the word
kiss
in it. “Are you really not going to reenlist?”

“Yes.” He folded his arms across his deliciously muscled upper-quadrant and regarded her wearily. “I’m not re-upping. Like I told your father, the war was officially declared over. I’m free to concentrate on running this place full time.”

“Then I think a toast is in order,” she stated, walking back to the nightstand to refill their glasses, and to get away from his compelling presence.

When she turned around, however, she nearly crashed into Mr. Compelling. Bugger was too quiet. Unlike her heart, which drummed an incessant thump in her chest.

Trisha handed him his glass, then lifted hers in the air. “To Captain Brennan, it has been my honor to serve under you, sir.”

Amusement immediately danced in his gaze, and when he went to open his mouth, she cut him off.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with that sexy grin tugging those kissable lips.

Whoops. Nope.
She was
not
thinking about anything with the word kiss…

With a quick shake of her head, she finished the toast. “May you have a great life here at Royal Pines.”

Before he could reply, she clinked his glass and drank, forcing him to do the same.

Ha, I win
, she thought to herself, tired of him having the last word.

“And to you, Corporal Jennings.”

She should’ve known better.

“It was a pleasure serving
over
you. May you find what you’re looking for here at Royal Pines.” He clinked her glass and drank, forcing her to do the same.

Darn him.

Needing to talk about something, anything, she set her drink down and turned to the table by the fireplace. “We should probably eat whatever Bugsby made before it gets completely cold.”

He nodded. “You’re right.” The captain walked to the table and pulled back a chair.

Just like at the honky tonk, it took her a few seconds to realize he was waiting for her to sit in it. “Thank you,” she said, not at all used to this type of behavior.

Nothing against him. It was just most of their chow halls had benches. Or they’d eaten MREs—Meals Ready to Eat—in Humvees or up against tanks, boulders, or bombed out buildings. He was the commander. He was not expected to pull chairs back for the females in his unit. Heck, none of the marines did. It was not necessary.

This was…different.

Trisha waited until he was seated before taking her first bite of the delicious smelling chicken. Garlic and rosemary and something sinful with parmesan. A moan rippled up her throat.

She glanced at the commander and smiled. “Bugsby’s a keeper.”

He had a strange look on his face, but then he blinked and it was gone. “I know.” The captain nodded, then returned his concentration back to his meal.

Fine with her. She certainly didn’t need conversation. The food was just too good to stop to make small talk, and before Trisha knew it, she’d placed the last piece of chicken in her mouth.

“Damn, it’s good to be home,” her C.O. proclaimed, setting his fork down a few minutes later.

With views like the one out his window, and meals like they’d just eaten, she understood why her captain had always raved about his home. He really was lucky.

Not that she’d grown up in a shack. Heck, no. She’d lived in what some would classify a mansion. With seven bedrooms, five bathrooms, office, great room, living room, game room, library, huge sunroom, and Olympic size pool out back. She, too, had been blessed. But the peace and tranquility surrounding her at Royal Pines was never part of her life. Formal dinner parties and balls, clients and dignitaries—those were the norm of her childhood.

“What are you thinking?”

Startled, she blinked and settled her gaze on the captain. “A…about home, sir. Why?”

“Home?” Now he blinked. “Huh? You just had a look of distaste, I thought maybe something of Bugsby’s didn’t agree with you.”

“Oh, no. Everything was absolutely delicious,” she reassured, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

A jolt of awareness shot through her in a tingling wave of heat.
Holy smokes
. She released him and sat back.

“What the hell…” He frowned, his gaze searching her face, but she had nothing to give except a helpless shrug.

That was new. Darn new. They’d touched before, a gazillion times, but no jolts of any kind had ever passed through them. Except, maybe for that strange tingling before by the bed.

He reached across the table to run his fingers lightly over her wrist.

More tingles.

“Shit.” He sat back, cradling his hand as if burned.

After several beats of silence, she cleared her throat, unable to stand the quiet. “I wonder just what Bugsby put in that chicken.”

The captain’s snicker had her raising her gaze to meet his, and a smile tugged her mouth in response to the amusement glittering in his eyes. Warmth slowly seeped into her every pore and heated the longer she held his stare. Body blazing despite the air conditioner running full force, Trisha glanced away. And because whatever was going on was crazy stupid, she rose to her feet and moved away from the mesmerizing man.

Needing something to do, she headed for the bed. “Well…I guess we should finish cleaning up Finn’s surprise.” Reaching for the basket, she ripped off the big red bow to inspect the contents. Her heart about kicked a whole in her chest. “O-o-oh my,” she stammered before a giggle escaped up her throat.

“What? What is it,” the captain demanded from behind.

Trisha turned to him, a bottle of chocolate syrup and can of whipped cream in one hand, and a box of condoms in the other. “Sir, please,
please
tell me what you did to your brother to make him be so…thorough.”

Captain Brennan blinked, and she watched as surprise and something unreadable crossed his face before anger tightened his features.

“Give me those.” He swiped the containers from her hands, tossed the condoms in the top drawer of the nightstand, then stalked to the open kitchen. “I’m sorry, Corporal. My brother goes too far sometimes.” Shoving the syrup in a cupboard, he muttered a few oaths, strode to the refrigerator and dropped the can into a slot in the door before slamming it shut. “I need to see the activity director to go over the schedule for this week.” He glanced at his watch then back to her. “If you get tired, take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

And before Trisha could blink, he was gone.

She blinked anyway, then glanced around the silent cabin.

“So, I guess I’ll be cleaning the blasted rose petals myself, then.”

****

Finn Brennan is a dead man…

What the hell had his brother been thinking? Condoms? Really? Chocolate syrup and whipped cream?
He
hadn’t done anything like that to Finn and Cammie—mostly because he hadn’t thought of it.

A smile tugged his lips as he stepped off the porch.
Clever bastard.

Why was he so upset, anyway? The corporal took it much better than he had.

That’s because, when she stood there holding up both damn containers, all he could think about was emptying their contents over every luscious inch of her body and licking them off…then putting the condoms to very good use until they were both completely and utterly satisfied. Even now, his groin tightened at the thought.

Grounding out a curse, Brett marched toward the main building, dialing his brother on the way.

Straight to voice mail.
Figures.

Finn and Cammie were probably having a good laugh over
Operation Payback
. That was the third time he’d tried calling his brother today, having tried twice before he’d left the Lonesome Steer. Brett refused to be played. Not going to happen. He’d figure out a way to make this situation work to his advantage. He always did.

As a matter of fact, he already viewed the predicament as a very good thing. One look at the corporal’s haunted gaze when they’d stood by the window and he’d known she needed help. He recognized the signs. A tautness around the mouth and eyes. Deep pain dulling the vibrancy from her gaze. Jennings needed to be here. Needed to detox after their last tour, and Royal Pines was the perfect place for detoxification. Even
she’d
recognized this when she asked to wait until after her parents’ visit to break their fake engagement.

Two weeks, though, was not going to be nearly enough.

She needed several weeks, if not more, to come to terms with the death and destruction of the innocent from their last deployment. No. Two weeks was not going to cut it. But never in a million years would the corporal ask for help. Hell, no. Pride was too big of an obstacle. So was showing weakness. For some reason, the woman seemed to think asking for help was a sure sign. No doubt a result from growing up in a household with four, tough, older brothers. Not to mention her former D.A. dad.

Sometimes showing weakness was a detriment, like in war. But not in this case. This was different. This was the home front. His morale officer needed to heal. But if he asked her to stay to do just that, she’d politely decline and be gone by sunrise.

Not happening.

Damn woman was one of his marines who needed help, and by God, he was going to help. He just needed to figure out a way to turn this around, to make her think
he
needed her to stay to help
him
out. He knew the corporal and the way her thought process worked. She wouldn’t stay to help herself, but she’d sure as shit agree to help him or anyone else from their unit.

Feeling better and more in control, Brett entered the main ranch and headed straight for the activity director’s office, a plan already forming in his mind.

Several hours later, he rushed from the guest ranch with the week’s schedule mapped out and a clear idea on how to turn
Operation Payback
into
Operation Payoff
. He just needed to get the corporal to agree. She would—it was a win/win for them both.

As he crossed the drive, he noted his cabin was dark, and a stab of guilt rippled through his gut. He’d left his
fiancée
alone a few hours more than he’d intended. Not that she needed babysitting. Still, he hadn’t meant to be a jerk. She was new around here. With Cammie away, the corporal wouldn’t know anyone.

But his delay had been unavoidable. There were a lot more clients coming in this week than normal. Scheduling was tougher than usual. Finn had a good plan laid out, but a group from some packing company in New Jersey had called on Friday, demanding to be fit in since Royal Pines had had to cancel their trip back in the spring due to flooding. Apparently, this was the only other week the group could make it.

Pulling out his phone, he pressed the screen button and noted the time. Ten seventeen. Not extremely late. Jennings must be tired, though. It had been one hell of a trying day. He expelled a breath on a grunt.
Weekend
. The whole damn weekend had been trying.

Thanks to the misunderstanding between Finn and Cammie, Brett hadn’t had much relaxation since he got home from deployment on Friday.

Yawning, he stepped onto the porch and shoved the phone back in his pocket. His ass was dragging.

With a careful turn of the knob, he entered quietly, not surprised to find the lights out, except for the one above the sink. The tiny glow cast a soft light about the cabin. The place was clean. No table covered in red. No champagne, flutes, dishes, chairs, or basket. The corporal even took care of the damn rose petals. Every last one.

Of course she did. She was a marine. Pride and some other emotion he refused to dissect warmed his blood. Corporal Jennings knew when to take orders, and when to take initiative. Smiling, he inhaled, enjoying the pleasant fragrance that still remained.