Mixing Temptation (17 page)

“There are worse things than dying out there,” he added, trying to focus on the here and now, not the past he couldn't change.

“Yes.”

He kept his gaze locked on her face as he stepped back and placed his hand on the door again. He was ready and willing to slam it closed. She could tempt and tease him, but he refused to take his eyes off her face. Hell, he knew better than to play chicken with her breasts. Right now, with the way he wanted her, he'd lose that game.

First, he needed some time to process. He wanted space to think about the fact that things hadn't worked out for her in Portland. He needed her to leave before he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, and offered comfort. Before he begged to know every damn detail about what had happened.

No, he needed her gone. Because he'd learned one big life lesson from his time with the Marines: he wasn't a hero. He couldn't let old habits take over, pushing him to save her. He wanted Josie's hands on him, her lips pressed against him . . . not her problems dumped at his feet. And if Josie was back in the town that had insisted on labeling her wild, holding her solely accountable for losing her panties in a hay wagon ride, then something had gone horribly wrong in Portland.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I can't—­”

“I need a job, Noah.” She wasn't begging, merely stating a fact. But desperation and determination clung to her words. Never a good combination.

Noah sighed. “Do you have any waitressing or bartending experience?”

“Not exactly.” She forced a smile as she uncrossed her arms and riffled through the worn black leather shoulder bag. She withdrew a manila folder and handed it to him. “But I brought my resume.”

Propping the door open with his foot, he took the folder and opened it. He read over the resume and tried to figure out how a series of babysitting gigs related to serving the twenty-­one-­and-­older crowd.

“You took a year off between working for these two families.” He glanced up. “To focus on school?”

“No.” Her smile faded. “I can serve drinks, Noah. I'm smart and I'm good with ­people. Especially strangers. And now that you've taken the “country” out of Big Buck's, I'm guessing the locals don't camp out at the bar anymore.”

“Some still do.” And they gave him hell for telling his dad to remove the mechanical bull. Five years and the ­people born and bred in this town still missed the machine that had put the “country” in Big Buck's Country Bar. Some dropped by to visit the damn thing in his dad's barn. But he'd bet no one had ridden it like Josie in the last five years.

He closed the folder and held it out to her. “Why are you so desperate to serve drinks?”

“I owe a lot of money.”

Another fact. But this one led to a bucket of questions. “Your father won't help you?”

She shook her head. “This is my responsibility. He's giving me a place to stay until I get back on my feet.”

The don't-­mess-­with-­me veneer he wore like body armor cracked. If someone had hurt Josie . . . No, she wasn't his responsibility. Whatever trouble she'd found—­credit card debt, bad loans—­it wasn't his mess to clean up. He'd spent most of his life playing superhero, first on the football field, later for his family, and then for his fellow Marines. But his last deployment—­and the fallout—­had made it pretty damn clear that he wasn't cut out for the role.

He couldn't help Josie Fairmore. Not this time. And he sure as hell couldn't give her a job that would keep her underfoot. He couldn't pay her to work for him and want her at the same time. It wasn't right. Maybe he was a failed hero. But he still knew right from wrong.

“Look, I need experienced waitresses and bartenders.” He stepped away, ready to head back to the peace and quiet of his empty bar.

“So you haven't filled the positions?” she asked.

“I—­”

“Please think about it.” She removed her foot, offering him the space to slam the door. “If you can't help me, I'll have to take Daphne up on her offer to serve topless drinks at The Lost Kitten. And I'd rather keep my shirt on while I work. But one way or another, I'm going to pay back what I owe.”

She turned and headed for the red Mini. He stared at her back and pictured her bending over tables. One look at her bare chest and the guys at The Lost Kitten would forget what they planned to order. He hated that mental image, but jealousy didn't dominate his senses right now.

He'd witnessed a woman sacrifice her pride and her dignity for her job. He'd fought like hell for her and he'd failed her. He couldn't change the past. What happened to Caroline was out of his hands now. Even if he wanted to help, he couldn't. She'd disappeared. If and when Caroline resurfaced, she'd be the one charged with a crime. Unauthorized absence. And his testimony? The things he'd witnessed? It wouldn't matter.

But Josie was standing in his freaking parking lot.

“I'll give you one shot,” he called. She stopped and turned to face him. Her full lips formed a smile and her eyes shone with triumph.

“A trial shift,” he added. “If you can keep up with a Thursday-­night crowd, I'll consider giving you a job.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Come back around four. And don't get too excited. Your babysitting experience won't help with a room full of college kids counting down the days until spring break.”

He closed the door and turned to face the dark interior of his father's bar. Giving her a shot didn't make him a hero. But it would give him a chance to figure out why she needed the money.

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And keep reading for an excerpt from Sara Jane Stone's second book in the series,

STIRRING ATTRACTION

When Dominic Fairmore left Oregon to be all he could be as an Army Ranger, he always knew he'd come back to claim Lily Greene. But after six years away and three career-­ending bullets, Dominic is battered, broken, and nobody's hero—­so he stays away. Until he learns Lily has been the victim of a seemingly random attack. He'll do anything to keep her safe . . . even go home.

Lily is starting to find a life without Dominic when suddenly her wounded warrior is home and playing bodyguard—­though all she really wants is for him to take her. But she refuses to play the part of a damsel in distress, no matter how much she misses his tempting touch. He'll leave as soon as she's safe and Lily knows her heart will never heal.

But as attraction stirs to so much more, danger closes in. With more than Lily's heart at stake, Dominic can no longer draw a line between protecting Lily and loving her . . .

 

An Excerpt from
STIRRING ATTRACTION

I
F IT WASN'T
for Taylor Swift and chocolate brownies, I would be at home wearing size six jeans and enjoying the first Monday of summer break.

Instead, the potent combination drove Lily to add an extra mile to her morning run. She turned up the volume on Swift's not-­so-­country album and jogged down Forever's familiar Main Street, trying to shake off the extra calories clinging to her thighs. If she kept going for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, she'd end up in the park beyond the university. The well-­maintained paths weaving through a manicured forest might distract from the fact that she hated running.

But I ate three large brownies at the end-­of-­year celebration yesterday.

Because who could say no to a six-­year-­old student with a plate of homemade double-­fudge brownies? She might have followed her heart when she'd applied to teach kindergarten in her hometown when she graduated from college. But now, at the ripe old age of twenty-­nine, this career was hell on her thighs and waistline.

Not that the kids shouldered all the blame. She'd turned to chocolate for comfort so many times over the past few years that she'd started to wonder if she should follow her father into rehab.

But it hadn't worked for him. He'd been arrested for driving under the influence. And this time the court had ordered him to rehab again. Not that he'd bothered to tell her. She'd received a call from his girlfriend of the moment with the news.

No, she doubted a twelve-­step program to abandon chocolate would work for her. Plus, there were some times when she loved her curves. On those days, she welcomed the sugar rush, always promising to run the next day.

And other times . . . well, after struggling to care for her mother toward the end, the handful of reunions with Dominic, followed by the breakups—­she'd kissed him goodbye more times than she wanted to count—­hadn't she earned a treat? She'd rather have Dominic . . .

But he hadn't returned to Forever. And she'd buried her hope that he ever would after he took two bullets to the chest and one through his hand. He'd almost died in a war-­torn country, then again in Germany while on the operating table. But it was the shot that had ripped apart his right hand that might bury him alive. He couldn't go back to the army. The rangers had kicked him out of the only group he'd ever wanted to join.

And he still hadn't come home.

Not to her.

He'd taken a break from his outpatient rehab to meet his niece after she was born. But he'd only stayed for a few days. Lily had been so caught up in school that she hadn't realized he was in town until he'd left again.

The traffic light turned green and she ran across the street, heading for the quiet park. The university students had mostly left for summer vacation. Plus, it was after nine in the morning on a Monday. Most of Forever's locals were at work. She ran past a mother pushing a stroller toward the park's swing set. In the distance, she could see another jogger.

Alone with Taylor Swift. . .

She picked up the pace, determined to push the extra calories clinging to her legs into exile. She had a date tonight with a man who wanted the same things out of life. Marriage. Children. A fellow teacher who wished to settle in Forever, not run away. Ted was the definition of “good man” even if he never tried to back her up against the wall and take her . . .

Stop comparing him to Dominic. Stop waiting for someone who has made it clear he is not coming back.

The playground disappeared from view. She followed the path through the trees. Glimpses of the university's buildings were visible through the bright green leaves, but nothing more. Rounding the bend, she saw a flash of red.

A man. Tall. Broad. Wearing a sweatshirt in June. Who did that? It was hot today even for a summer day.

He drew closer. Running toward her as if he knew her and wanted to say hello. He was moving fast. He was wearing a ski mask. In June . . .

And then he was on top of her.

She hit the pavement and fell back. He came with her. And oh God, he was hitting her. Over and over. She heard screams and hoped the sounds came from someone who would help her. A hit to the jaw. A punch to the gut, this one stinging. And then . . .

Silence.

She'd been the one screaming, her voice high-­pitched and terrified. She'd been the one begging for help until the reality sank in. She was alone. In the trees. Out of sight.

“Please . . . stop,” she whimpered, struggling to break free. But she wasn't strong enough.

“You ruined everything,” a deep voice growled.

She kept her arms over her head, protecting her face. But through the gap she saw dark brown eyes peering at her through the mask.

His pupils are huge. He sounds . . . familiar.

And he looks crazy.

Of course he was. Sane ­people didn't attack strangers in the park. But who was he?

He hit her forearm and she closed her eyes. The pain distracted from trying to place him. Her arms stung as if she'd been covered in paper cuts. It didn't matter who he was, she just needed him to stop hitting her, stop hurting her . . .

The weight lifted, but the pain remained. She reached for her side. It was wet from his punches.

No, that's not right.

She lifted her palm and saw the blood. And she screamed, over and over, never stopping to breathe. Panic rushed in and held her captive. Her world was reduced to one word.

Help.

No one came. Fear took over, shifting her cries. Screw help. She didn't need a white knight. She needed power, strength, and someone who gave a damn about her.

Dominic.

She called his name. Her voice bordered on hoarse. She inhaled and tried again, staring up at the trees. The branches shifted in the light breeze as if mocking her. Sunbeams slipped through the leaves.

He's not coming.

Her ranger wouldn't rush to her rescue . . .

But he wasn't an army ranger anymore. He'd been injured, rehabbed, and released. And he still hadn't come back to her.

So she'd moved on.

She shouldn't be calling for Dominic. Her new boyfriend—­the man who promised a future filled with gentle kisses, romantic adventures, and children. If she made it out of this park . . .

Ted.

She called his name to the trees. The leaves shook, spilling pockets of sunlight on the path. Ted specialized in teaching elementary school kids to read. He was a good man, a kind person . . .

Her vision blurred and the leaves above her merged together. She needed help
now
. She rolled to her side and the pain shifted, but it didn't increase. More wasn't an option. She'd reached her threshold. There was agony and passing out. Those were her only choices

But before she tried to escape the pain, she needed to crawl into the open. She had to save herself. Dominic, Ted, the woman in the park—­they weren't rushing to her rescue. She needed to pull herself into the open.

Slowly, she maneuvered onto her belly and raised her left arm. If she could crawl . . .

Dragging her bruised, battered, and possibly sliced forearm over the paved path, she pressed down and pulled her body forward. Her legs scrambled for purchase, but she couldn't find her way onto all fours.

Time distorted like it did when she visited the dentist, and the receptionist insisted on redefining the word “brief.” But she made progress. Two slides forward, she saw something pink lying on the path. Her cell phone. She crawled closer and picked it up. Music still blasted from the headphones. She turned it over and—­

No ser­vice.

“Stupid woods,” she muttered. “Stupid park.”

Still clutching the phone, she started dragging herself forward again. She reached the edge of the path and spotted her saviors. Two girls raced forward as if they'd eaten an entire pan of brownies last night. Or maybe they'd simply spotted her.

Help.

But the cry died before she could part her lips. Her vision blurred. And then—­

Nothing.

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