Mixing Temptation (9 page)

Would her constricted version of love be enough for him?

 

Chapter 8

W
HAT AM
I
doing driving to California on a pseudo-­rescue mission?

Josh mulled the situation as he raised his travel coffee mug to his lips. His brothers had asked that question ten different ways when he informed them of his plans to take a road trip.

Sure it's a vacation when your girlfriend's carrying a loaded gun?

His oldest brother, Brody, had added that one to the pile. And no, Josh wasn't sure of a damn thing other than the fact he couldn't let Caroline run off to help a woman she'd met for five minutes. If that truly was her number one reason for heading back to the part of the country she'd run from once.

Plus, he wanted a third date.

The door to Noah's old farmhouse swung open and Josh focused on the porch. His girlfriend appeared with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She'd tied her long dark hair back in a bun. And she'd selected cargo pants, her combat boots, and a plain black T-­shirt for their adventure.

“For the record,” he said as she pulled open the door to his truck, “I liked your fitted jeans better. Although I suppose those pants offer more room for your gun.”

“They do.” She settled into the passenger seat, her pack nestled between her feet.

He held out the box of doughnut holes. “In that case, I'll let you have first pick. Take all the chocolate ones if you want.”

“I prefer the ones with the jelly filling.” She reached into the box and took three white powdered doughnuts.

“Really?” He set the box down and handed her a cup of coffee. His fingers brushed hers and he thought
that
's why I'm here.
He wanted to touch her, talk to her, and learn about her doughnut preferences.

He put the truck in gear and backed out of the long gravel drive. “I hate the jelly-­filled ones,” he added.

“And I know you love chocolate,” she said in the same sensual tone she'd used the other night when she told him to strip.

He slowed to a stop at the top of the drive and glanced at her. “Tell me you'll marry me.”

“So that we can spend the rest of our life sharing boxes of doughnut holes?”

Yes,
he thought.
And moonlit walks through vineyards. And dirty movies. . .

She popped a jelly-­filled one in her mouth and shook her head.

“Too presumptuous for the third date?” His grip tightened on the wheel as he turned onto the road and headed for the highway.

“Let's see if we survive the road trip first.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look at him. “Did you map out the route?”

“We could do it in one day,” he said. “Nine to ten straight hours in the car. But I thought it might be nice to pause and stretch our legs once or twice.”

She nodded as she stretched out her legs in the passenger seat and turned her gaze to the window. “I need to make a stop about an hour, maybe two, south of the state line. I'll direct you once we get closer.”

Tell me more about how you like your doughnuts.
But he knew he had to ask about the little side trip she'd dropped into the conversation.

“To see your sister?” And yeah, he wished he could see her expression, but he had to keep his eyes on the road. “Don't tell me we're skipping straight to the meet-­the-­family dates.”

“Not this trip.” She let out a forced laugh. “She's still upset that my former CO showed up at her doorstep and started tossing out threats while her kids were in the house.”

“Your sister blamed you for that?” he asked with a healthy dose of what the fuck in his tone.

“She was scared. But we weren't exactly close before. And since I ran, she's started talking to my parents,” she said.

“Your parents,” he repeated. Any trace of humor had exited the conversation as they sped down the highway.

He'd spent hours with her in the back room at Big Buck's. He knew that she'd grown up moving from one base to another. Her father had been a Marine. And he'd always assumed they'd passed away. She'd talked about her sister. Her niece and nephew. But never her mom and dad. He'd never pushed because shit, he didn't talk about his mom much. She hadn't been in the picture for a long time and he left it at that.

“They're back in Maryland,” she said. “Or that's what my sister said the last time we talked. She wanted to know where I was. She said my parents had been asking. But if they knew . . .” She sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap and her chin held high. “They'd turn me in.”

Josh punched the gas and fought the urge to swerve off the road and park on the shoulder. She had a group of ­people—­a sort of family—­at Big Buck's who'd worked to keep her secret. But her own parents would see her locked in a jail cell.

“Why?” he said, his voice low and hard.

“They believed my CO,” she said. “Or at least my dad bought into the ‘good soldier' defense and in the end it was my word against Dustin's. He admitted we'd had an affair. With Noah's testimony, he couldn't skirt that issue. But Dustin claimed it was consensual.”

She listed the facts as if the trial had happened to someone else. Her tone remained calm. But one glance away from the road, and he saw the tension in her posture. She sat up straight, her shoulder blades drawn down her back. And her legs were no longer outstretched in front of her. Her feet rested on either side of her backpack.

“His defense countered that the traumatic environment altered my perception. We were on a remote base, close to what many considered the front lines of the battle. Everyone was tense all the time.” She shrugged. “My dad believed the decorated soldier, not me. And my mom followed my father's lead.”

“They didn't fight for you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I guess in their eyes I wasn't a good enough soldier.”

He reached over and took her hand. “I think it takes a helluva lot more courage to do what you did, to speak up against the person everyone sees as the ‘good guy' than to stand by the lines drawn in the sand between good and bad.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand, but kept his eyes on the road. “And I stand by my assessment from the other night. You're more badass than any other woman I've ever met. And I find that so damn hot.”

She laughed. And another quick peek told him that he'd won a smile.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. But the questions lingered. And he couldn't push them away. If they weren't stopping to see her sister, where did she want to go?

There was only one other person he could think of from her life before she'd run away to Forever. Her rapist. And shit, that put one helluva dark spin on their third date.

“So this stop in Northern Cali. Are you planning something that might get you arrested?” he asked.

She pulled her hand free from his. “No.”

But once again there was a boatload of serious in her tone. His brothers might have been right about this little trip redefining ‘vacation.' And he hated to let his brothers win. Ever.

“Look, I don't have a lot of experience with road trips. In fact, this is my first time outside of Oregon.”

“You're kidding. No family car outings as a kid?”

“My mom left when I was little. My father did his best for us. But he was a sane man. He never tried to load the four of us into a car and take us across state lines. We visited the coast once or twice for clamming, but that's it. He worked a lot to make ends meet. There wasn't much left over after paying the bills and trying to keep us all fed for fancy vacations. You've seen a lot more of the world than I have.”

She let out a brittle laugh. “I know there are beautiful places in the Middle East, in Iraq and Afghanistan, but I don't think the US military posts are on the top sightseeing stops.”

“Probably not,” he acknowledged. “Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”

“I can't. If I use my passport—­”

He pushed away the rising need to erase ‘can't' from her vocabulary. He'd pull the truck over right now if he could tear down the hard limits she put on her life. He knew the complexities of her situation couldn't be tossed out the window and abandoned on the side of the Oregon highway. “But if you
could
go somewhere?”

“What is the point in dreaming about something you can't have?” she said softly.

“Situations change. One day—­”

“There's no ‘one day' in my future. We both know that, Josh. If I try to board a plane bound for Hawaii, I'll be arrested.”

“Why Hawaii?” he asked.

He glanced over and caught sight of her full lips pressed tight together. “You're annoying. You know that, right?”

“My sister reminds me all the time. And you agreed to spend the next few days in a car with me.”

“Few days? It's a nine-­ to ten-­hour drive.”

“I thought we'd break it up, maybe work in a modified version of your dream beach vacation. That's why you want to see Hawaii, right? The beautiful beaches? Or were you interested in the volcanoes? Oregon has those too.”

“The beaches,” she murmured, turning her attention to some distant point out the window. “And I want to see the ocean. But—­”

“If we have time to stop in Northern Cali before we head south to rescue a woman who might not need our help—­”

“She does,” Caroline said firmly.

“I believe you. But if we have time to visit your number one enemy—­”

“I didn't say—­”

“Wild guess,” he said dryly. “If we have time for that asshole, we can take a detour to the scenic route and spend the night by the beach.”

“Sleep on the sand under the stars?” she murmured.

“If that's what you want. I was thinking more along the lines of a hotel with a view of the water. Maybe a balcony.”

“Josh, I've spent the past year washing dishes. Noah's been generous, paying me more than he should, but—­”

“My date. My treat. Two rooms with a view of the ocean,” he said firmly. “Plus, I'm hoping you'll be so relaxed that you'll forget all about stopping to visit the past.”

“I can't,” she said simply.

Yeah, he'd been afraid she'd say that.

“Caroline,” he said. “There's nothing but trouble waiting for you if you try to see him. What are you hoping to get out of this side trip? An apology? He owes you a helluva lot more than that. And from what you've told me, what Noah's told me, I wouldn't put it past the bastard to call the police if you show up on his goddamn doorstep.”

“I'm not going to talk to him—­”

“Good,” he said firmly.

“But . . .”

Josh sighed. Yeah, he'd known there was a ‘but' at the end of that statement.

“I need to know once and for all if he's after me,” she added.

“All right,” he said grudgingly. “But I'm going with you.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He reached for the radio and tuned to the first station he found that played something other than country. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride. Imagine how the sand will feel between your toes.”

 

Chapter 9

C
AROLINE S
URVEYED THE
exit routes while Josh secured their rooms. But mentally mapping the hotel's exterior from the truck proved challenging. Three large brown rectangular buildings surrounded the parking area and the rooms lining the three stories all faced out. The ones on the far side had a spectacular view of the water while the others looked out on rows and rows of parked vehicles. She could hear the ocean beyond the structures, but she'd have to get out of the truck if she wanted to see the waves.

Glancing around the empty parking lot, she opened the passenger side door and slipped out. She headed for a cement path between two buildings filled with guest rooms. Carefully maintained grass covered the ground behind the hotel leading to a row of thick hedges.

“I have good news and bad news.”

Josh spoke from behind her. He wasn't close. Not yet. And she'd spent enough time with Josh to know that he possessed a healthy respect for her personal space.

“What's the bad news?” she demanded, her mind running through worst-­case scenarios. The hotel staff had demanded her government issued identification . . . The oceanfront resort was out of rooms so they'd have to sleep in the bed of the pickup . . .

“Just a minute, Ms. Doom and Gloom, I'm starting on a high note,” he said. “See that structure down there? Just visible beyond the hedges, directly on the sand?”

She nodded. The small triangular cottage looked as if one big wave might wash it away into the sea.

“That's ours for the night,” he said. “Secluded and right on the beach. You can't see it from here, but there is a porch on the front. Plus, it comes with a kitchenette.”

She nodded slowly, trying to process the fact that he'd rented her a private cottage so close to the water that high tide probably touched the porch steps. It wasn't a villa at one of those fancy Hawaiian resorts, but it was a lot to take in for a third date.

“What's the bad news?” she asked, remembering his earlier warning.

He turned to face her. “There's a conference at the main lodge and they're booked. The cottage was the only opening. There's a queen bed and a sleeping loft. I'll take the loft, but it's an open floorplan apart from the bathroom. If the loft is too close for comfort, I can grab a sleeping bag from the truck and camp on the porch.”

You can sleep in the loft,
she thought.
I'll be fine.

She knew that was the logical response. He'd paid for the cottage. But she hadn't slept that close to a man in a long time. No walls. No safe barriers. Not that she needed them from Josh. Part of her wanted to propose they share the bed.

And part of her wanted to lock him outside for the night.

“That should work,” she said slowly. “But I might change my mind and claim the porch. I've never slept this close to the ocean before.”

He held out a key. “Why don't you head down and check it out. I'll grab our bags.”

Her fingers touched his and she grabbed his hand. “Thank you, Josh. For bringing me here. But I need to make one thing clear.”

He nodded.

“I'm picking the location for our next date. It probably won't be a beachfront cottage because I'm on a budget, but—­”

“I'm up for anything.” His lips curved into a full-­blown smile. “Go enjoy the view.”

C
AROLINE WALKED OUT
of the bathroom with her long black hair wrapped in a towel and Josh knew he'd be spending the night on the porch. His call. Not hers. And it didn't have a damn thing to do with the towel—­or the fitted jeans that hugged the curve of her hips. Or the loose, thin sweater material that played peek-­a-­boo with her breasts. It was a black
sweater
, not thin strips of silk for Christ sake, cut in the shape of an oversized men's dress shirt minus the buttons and collar. One look shouldn't inspire a roar of lust.

Ah hell, I had a hard-­on for her when she wore oversized T-­shirts and baggy cargo pants.

He glanced out the cottage window. If Caroline traded her loose-­fitting outfits for lingerie, he'd have a second, maybe two, to make the call before lust overrode his brain and body. Run for the sand dunes or let her seduce him?

But he didn't have to make the choice tonight. Her sexy sweater wasn't exactly a secret of old Victoria's. And he'd tossed the idea of moving past second base out the window during their long drive. Not long after he'd turned on the radio, she'd drifted off to sleep. He'd focused on the road, putting more and more miles behind them. But he couldn't stop replaying their earlier conversation.

I need to know once and for all if he's after me.

He remembered the trigger-­happy woman who'd nearly shot a raccoon not long after she'd started working at Big Buck's. But over time, she'd let the paranoia slip away. Or maybe she'd learned to hide it. Either way, she wanted closure.

He felt a lot of things for this woman. Admiration and lust topped the list. But he also knew that he couldn't go to bed with her to help her slam the door on the past. He wasn't afraid she'd freeze or he'd touch her in a way that triggered a memory of her rape. Although, shit, that was something they'd need to address too. But if that happened, they'd stop and deal with it. He wasn't backing away from her because he feared the stop-­and-­starts or scary moments that led to more talks instead of climaxes.

But if they reached the let's-­get-­naked date, he planned to have a long discussion with her before they lost their clothes. And he suspected that would be hard on both of them. He'd parted ways with ‘serious' long before his accident. His eldest brother, Brody, had always been the somber one. Chad had picked up the playboy label and run with it—­until he met Lena.

And that left Josh with humor.

But a talk about how to avoid triggering memories of the way she'd been raped didn't call for laughter and it couldn't be avoided. He supposed he could breathe a sigh of relief since that chat wouldn't happen tonight. Not because he wasn't feeling as if his jeans had shrunk a size or two since he'd watched her emerge fully dressed in an oversized sweater.

He needed her to want him in the same crazy-­for-­you-­even-­if-­you're-­wearing-­a-­baggy-­old-­sweater way he wanted her.

His erection threatened to object—­

“The shower is all yours.” She released the towel and let the long, wet strands of hair tumble over her shoulders.

He relinquished his place on the tiny love seat shoved into the one-­room cottage's kitchenette in an attempt to create a ‘living space' between the bed and the front door.

“But I used all the cold water,” she added as she pulled a hairbrush from her backpack.

“That's all right. I'm fine with . . .” He paused in the doorway to the bathroom and turned to her. “How did you manage to use all the cold? As the youngest, I know for a fact that the hot goes first—­”

“I was teasing you.” She offered a rare wry smile. “Something”—­she let her gaze drift south and settle below his belt—­“told me you might need a cold shower.”

He let out a laugh, but didn't turn away from the spark of sexual awareness. He was already headed for a cold shower. “Before our
third
date? Don't worry, Caroline, I haven't lost count.”

“Me neither,” she said softly.

Maybe I should rethink my plans to sleep on the porch,
he thought. But he shook his head and headed for the cold shower he desperately needed now.

“There's a bottle of Oregon pinot noir on the windowsill by the mini-­fridge,” he called back to her. “I also picked up some dinner for us. The coast's famous clam chowder.”

“I'll warm it up.” She nodded to the bathroom. “I'll meet you on the porch when you're done with your shower.”

He walked into the cramped space but couldn't resist adding: “If this was our fourth date, I'd invite you to join me. But naked time in the shower on the third? That's against the rules.”

“You're right,” she shot back. “No shower sex before the fourth date. But hot tubs are excluded from that rule.”

He let out a laugh. “Wrote these rules in your spare time?”

“No,” she said. And he heard the door to the mini-­fridge slam shut. “We have the gods of reality TV to thank for their insights into the ritual of dating.”

“You watch too much television,” he said as he closed the door and rested his hands on the vanity's edge.

But he could have sworn he heard her add, “But I don't live under a rock. Not anymore.”