Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
Hot for Pepper
U.S. Marine Captain Mitchell Scott turned off the air conditioner and lowered his windows as he passed through the security gate of his stepfather’s estate in Newport News, Virginia. The perfume of late-blooming flowers hung heavy in the humid night air. Hallsford, his stepfather’s mansion, stood proud at the end of the long, winding drive. Lights winked from every window. From some perspectives, Carlton Eaves’ extravagant electricity habits spoke of wealth and wastefulness. From other perspectives, the yellow glow spoke of welcome.
In the fourteen years since his mother and Carlton married, then swiftly divorced, Mitch had rarely taken advantage of the welcome. Stubbornness, rebellion and school all kept him away at first. After he graduated, the Marines dictated where he went and when. When he did visit, his appearances were brief and guided by two things.
His loyalty and respect for Carlton Eaves, who’d created Mitch’s first opportunity and paved the way for his military career.
And his attraction to Pepper Eaves, whose sheltered innocence lured him back to her no matter how long he went between visits, or how many women he tried to put in her place.
The mere thought of Pepper tightened his muscles with a familiar rush of heat. Mitch guided his SUV into an empty bay in the family garage and worked at blocking her from his mind.
His stepbrother Andrew Wallace appeared in the door between the garage and the house as Mitch removed his shaving kit and suitcase.
“I don’t know why you keep coming back,” Andrew said by way of greeting. “There’s nothing you want here.”
Suppressing his fight instincts, Mitch pocketed his keys and closed the SUV’s hatch. The animosity he and Andrew shared was nothing new. He stared coolly at the other man. “Are you in charge of verifying invitations?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” Andrew slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers and gave Mitch a head-to-toe once-over, not bothering to disguise his opinion of Mitch’s well-worn jeans and olive USMC t-shirt. “Candace doesn’t come back. Why do you?”
“If your name’s ever on the property deed, you can withdraw the invitation.” Mitch held his muscles loose, deliberately neutral, and didn’t break his even tone. Fire on the inside, ice on the outside. Carlton Eaves had given Mitch that mantra, along with a military academy education and a promise of home at Hallsford. Even after divorcing Mitch’s mother and marrying Andrew’s, Carlton hadn’t rescinded his gifts.
Anger flushed Andrew’s cheekbones. He held Mitch’s eyes, staring him down. Mitch met the challenge, careful with his outward calm. Except for one time, an incident that resulted in a broken nose for Andrew, Mitch had maintained his cool on Hallsford’s grounds. He wouldn’t back down and he wouldn’t discard Carlton’s gifts for the fleeting satisfaction of Andrew’s pain.
“We’re going to end it this weekend,” his stepbrother finally said.
Some of Mitch’s ice cracked. “There’s never been anything to end. I fuck women, not men. And never you.”
Mitch set his course for the door. The other man didn’t move until the last minute, Mitch one stride away from full-body collision. But he did move.
“I’m not talking about you and me,” Andrew called as Mitch let himself into the house. “I’m talking about Pepper. And you can’t have her. She’ll be engaged before the weekend’s over.”
Andrew’s parting words hit him with the force of a crossbow bolt at close range. Years of combat training kept him going despite the icy arrow of shock. By the time he reached his room, hot determination burned through the surprise. He was
not
too late to claim her.
Twenty minutes later, Mitch dove into a heated lap pool. Adrenaline pumped through his system. He worked it out in the salt-treated water, slicing his way along the lanes. Under normal circumstances he preferred to work off frustration with a punching bag. Some measure of civility still lingered in the back of his mind and he’d turned to the pool instead.
Mitch broke the water and sucked fresh air into his lungs. Yeah, some things were long overdue an ending. His policy of avoiding Pepper Eaves was at the top of the list. Years continued to pass him by and his attraction to her failed to fade. Hell, the loopy slant of her handwriting on the invitation he’d received months earlier had been enough to tighten his balls.
As a man who worked for a living, and worked hard, Mitch didn’t deny many of his wants. At first, he’d denied himself Pepper because she was too young. Eighteen to his twenty-four when he’d first allowed himself to think of her as more than a child.
Later, denied himself because she seemed to prefer him at a distance. She feared him. He needed to know why, needed a chance to alleviate her fears and needed to know whether she could ever be his woman instead of Carlton’s daughter or Andrew’s stepsister. Or some faceless man’s wife.
Mitch blew droplets of water from his lips and shook his hair out of his eyes. Extended leave between assignments had resulted in his military-grade cut growing shaggy. He shoved his hair back from his face and turned, prepared for another lap, only to discover he was no longer alone.
As if thinking her name had conjured her, the strawberry-blonde lady of Hallsford stood at the far end of the pool. She clutched a thick blue terrycloth robe around her slim figure. The deep color emphasized the paleness of her skin and highlighted her freckles. Mitch forced himself to breathe evenly as a new kind of aggression replaced the lingering remnants of his earlier anger.
“Evening.” Mitch inclined his head in greeting. Slowly, not hiding his interest anymore, he examined the length of her body. The thick terrycloth obscured her hips, waist and breasts, but he knew her shape. Pepper had never thought to close her curtains and Mitch…well, he knew how to take advantage of a good view.
Her shins peeked between the edges of her robe. Bare knees, a glimpse of thigh as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“Hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Pink-tipped toes curled with the syllables, her drawl soft and full of the South. “There’s usually nobody here this time of night.”
While she worried the belt of her robe, Mitch planted his feet on the floor of the pool and wedged his shoulders back against the edge. Christ, he wished he didn’t want her as much as he did. He forced his focus back to her face and found her looking around for a way out.
“I got in about forty minutes ago,” he said before she could escape.
Pepper stared at the arched doorway that stood between her and somewhere to hide. If Mitch hadn’t been watching closely, he would have missed the telltale rise and fall of her shoulders as she reached a decision.
She turned back to him and said simply, “Welcome home.”
“Thanks.” He pushed away from the wall and made his way to her end of the pool, walking the length of the lane instead of swimming. He had a feeling if he dove long enough to swim to her, she’d vanish.
She nodded and cinched the robe’s belt tighter. “Did you find everything all right?”
“The cleaning staff has stored guest toothbrushes in the same place for probably thirty years.” He gripped the edge of the pool and tilted his head back, meeting her eyes. Giving her the advantage of dominant position even though he knew she would never think to consider it an opportunity for control. “You don’t have to play hostess to me. I know the routine.”
“It’s habit. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your swim.” She pivoted, her second attempt to make a break for it.
Mitch stifled a curse. He had no experience with gentling skittish creatures and Pepper was the most flight-prone person he’d ever met. Not for the first time, he wondered why he wanted a woman who was so obviously unnerved by his presence.
Not that why mattered. He’d been trying to want someone—anyone—else for years, with no success. He’d finally given up resisting the why of his desire for her. Returning to Hallsford without the sword of self-denial hanging over his head, he almost felt like he was really home. Like he could relax and reacquaint himself with the only father he’d ever known.
Pepper had nearly reached the door to the dressing rooms before Mitch called after her, “Stay and keep me company.”
She hesitated and Mitch knew he’d won. In Pepper’s mind, refusal would be rude, and she was
never
rude. Not fully hiding her reluctance, she returned to the side of the pool.
“I’m not a very strong swimmer,” she said, her pointed chin aimed at her breastbone, blue eyes downcast. “You’ll outpace me and I won’t be much for competitive laps.”
“There’s more than one lane and I didn’t come home looking for a competition.” He spread his arms wide and fanned water back and forth, drifting on the low current he created. “You came out because you wanted to swim. Get in the water.”
“Carlton will be pleased that you’ve come. I’m sorry he’s not home. He had business in Atlanta and his flight won’t arrive for another several hours.” Pepper fingered her belt one last time before loosening the knot. She turned partially away from him to shrug free of the robe, which she draped over a squat deck chair.
“He emailed. I’ll see him in the morning.” Mitch greedily studied her profile. Slim shoulders sloped into shapely arms, which she kept protectively close to her sides. Her black two-piece suit was conservatively cut. It didn’t reveal anything more dangerous than her freckles. She could have worn the same suit at a public pool, surrounded by kids, and been perfectly decent. So why was he suddenly hard, his cock straining against the mesh lining of his trunks?
Without looking at him, she lowered herself into the water and set a slow pace down the lane. Timing laps to keep pace with her, Mitch concentrated on his form in the water and tried to figure out how to say what he needed to say.
Pepper was painfully aware of Mitch’s proximity. Her nightly swim was usually good for regaining the energy she expended, and releasing the stress she acquired during her daytime volunteer shifts at the local hospital. Mitch’s presence did little to help her relax. He’d always had the opposite effect, flooding her with a particular brand of tension she didn’t care to examine.
She hated to admit it, but she’d over-extended herself by taking on her night-shift project. Between the hospital, the late night work, and Carlton’s upcoming birthday-slash-engagement party, she was drained and exhausted.
Andy told her she cared too much. Not just about the elderly patients on her volunteer shift but also about Carlton, Hallsford, and, according to Andy, everybody except herself. As her fingertips brushed Mitch’s hip under water, she wondered if Andy wasn’t right. She certainly cared too much about the strain between her two stepbrothers.
She mentally cringed at that word. Logistically, that’s what Mitch and Andy were—her stepbrothers. In reality, she didn’t have a sibling relationship with Mitch outside of name-only. She thought of Andrew as a brother, but Mitch…she tried to maintain a space for him. He didn’t make it easy with his emotional distance and long absences.
When she reached the end of the lane, Pepper surfaced for several deep breaths. Mitch lingered in the neighboring lane, still in her peripheral vision. She glanced sidelong to find him watching her.
“You don’t have to wait for me.” She folded her forearms on the blue-tiled ledge to hold herself up where her feet couldn’t touch the bottom.
Mitch shrugged. “I’ve been doing it this long.”
Pepper frowned. “You didn’t have to. I wasn’t being modest when I said I’m not very fast in the water.”
Mitch ducked beneath the rope that separated their lanes. Pepper didn’t have time to retreat before he crowded behind her and caged her between his body and the wall.
She swallowed past a block in her throat. Her heart leapt into an erratic pace and heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water gathered between her thighs. Unsure what to do, she froze. Mitch placed his hands on the pool’s edge, outside her elbows, and spoke in her ear.
“I haven’t been waiting for you to swim another lap, Pepper. I’ve been waiting for you to let me this close.”
“I, um…” She stared at the potted ferns decorating the deck at their end of the pool. One of the gardeners had spilled a handful of soil on the cement. She desperately focused on the mess and flattened her palms on the ledge, tensing to lift herself from the water. Mitch stood so close she only succeeded in tucking her behind against his groin. And he was hard.
Mouth dry, she blurted the first thing that came to her suddenly sluggish mind. “Do you want me to talk to Andy for you? I’ve tried before but he tells me nothing happened. I know it’s a lie, though, because I saw… Mitch?”
The question ended with a small squeak. His right hand vanished under the water and splayed across her stomach, holding her firm against his pelvis.
“I don’t want you to ask Andy anything. I want you to tell me you’re not afraid of me.”
Could she? Could she tell him what he wanted to hear, and still tell the truth? Did she have words to vocalize the strange mix of desire and terror she experienced when she thought about him? Even when he was stationed halfway across the world, her attraction to him haunted her.
Pepper closed her eyes. Mistake. Without the spilled soil to distract her, her senses narrowed down to points. Mitch’s hot skin slipping against her back. The shape of his penis against her bottom. His muscular thighs between hers, widening the space between her legs. No—that was her. She was opening for him—he wasn’t opening her.