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Search and Seduce
Sara Jane Stone
Subject: Air Force Pararescue Jumper Mark RhodesMission: To be the man she needs…and wants!It's taken Amy Benton eighteen months to move on after her SEAL husband's death. Now she's nearly realized her dream of breeding and training military war dogs. Unfortunately, no one sees her as anything other than "the grieving widow." Her ambitions, determination, even her longing for a man's touch are invisible to everyone…except the man she can't have.Pararescue Jumper Mark Rhodes has always been there for his best friend's widow. But lately, there's been a growing awareness between them… And when he comes home to help open her training facility, the heat between them is impossible to resist. But is Amy willing to risk her heart on another soldier who may never come home?


Subject: Air Force Pararescue Jumper Mark Rhodes
Mission: To be the man she needs...and wants!
It’s taken Amy Benton eighteen months to move on after her SEAL husband’s death. Now she’s nearly realized her dream of breeding and training military war dogs. Unfortunately, no one sees her as anything other than “the grieving widow.” Her ambitions, determination, even her longing for a man’s touch are invisible to everyone...except the man she can’t have.
Pararescue Jumper Mark Rhodes has always been there for his best friend’s widow. But lately, there’s been a growing awareness between them... And when he comes home to help open her training facility, the heat between them is impossible to resist. But is Amy willing to risk her heart on another soldier who may never come home?
Can’t resist a sexy military hero?
Then you’ll love our Uniformly Hot! miniseries.
Mills & Boon Blaze’s bestselling miniseries
continues with more irresistible heroes
from all branches of the armed forces.
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by Jillian Burns
June 2015
Dear Reader (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028),
On the surface, Search and Seduce is a sexy romance about a smoking-hot solider, a strong military widow who is trying to find her way, and puppies bred to be war dogs. But beyond the red-hot moments, the Air Force Pararescueman who looks yummy in and out of uniform, and the adorable canines, this is a story about what it means to be a military wife, girlfriend and widow. And I sincerely hope that part resonates with readers. Every day brave military partners face the fear of not knowing if the person they love is in danger. They wait day after day for their partners to come home, knowing they will leave again. In telling Amy and Mark’s story, I tried to offer a window into their world—and give two very brave characters a heartfelt happily-ever-after ending.
And, of course, I hope you love the puppies! Thank you to my Facebook fans for suggesting names for Amy’s dogs. Your ideas were excellent and I used many of them in the book. As I said in the dedication, this one is for you!
As my Facebook friends know, I love hearing from readers! Please find me on Facebook or drop by my website, sarajanestone.com (http://www.sarajanestone.com). And while you’re there don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter to receive information about new releases, contests and more.
Happy reading!
Sara Jane Stone
Search and Seduce
Sara Jane Stone


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARA JANE STONE lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her very supportive real-life hero, two lively young children and a lazy Burmese cat. When she is not finger painting with the kids, she loves writing sexy stories featuring military heroes (and heroines!), reading sexy contemporary romance and chatting with her readers. Visit her online at sarajanestone.com (http://www.sarajanestone.com), and become a fan of Sara Jane Stone on Facebook.
For my Facebook friends and fans. Thank you for helping me name the puppies! This one is for you and I hope to see you online again soon.
And to my husband, I love you!
Contents
Cover (#u09df5866-8753-5bfc-b807-bc23b8f521ef)
Back Cover Text (#u7b7624ae-ede4-5e17-aba5-2c4721bc7673)
Introduction (#u8fcb312a-29cb-5464-b1d2-396e6b7c99ba)
Dear Reader
Title Page (#u3f7c3cca-66ca-528f-8671-f1e4bb9807da)
About the Author (#u125db87c-169e-5a9c-898e-af26079bf8b5)
Dedication (#u644ea69c-36e1-5f88-b88a-39c62bfc10ad)
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
Epilogue
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
SAILORS, SOLDIERS AND AIRMEN lined the grave site. Amy Benton stared at them, noting the differences in their dress uniforms. The men in the dark blues stood at attention beside the ones in the bright whites. Medals lined their chests, every single one.
These men were Darren’s brothers, teammates and friends. And their presence here, at her husband’s grave, made the truth undeniable. Darren, the man she’d fallen head over heels in love with more than a decade ago, back when they were high school students, was not coming home again.
Her chin dropped to her chest. Freshly shined shoes stood in sharp contrast to the bright green grass. She looked at her scuffed black flats, drawing her lower lip into her mouth. She’d forgotten to polish her shoes.
Amy’s hands formed tight fists, her pale pink nails digging into her palms as the tears threatened. She’d painted her fingernails. That had to count for something. But how could she forget about her shoes?
Maybe she’d worn the wrong pair. She tried to think back to this morning, but the hours blurred together. She felt as if she’d spent a series of endless days, unable to sleep, fighting her way through a sea of pain, allowing herself to bury the truth.
Standing here in her scuffed shoes, she couldn’t hide anymore.
But falling apart surrounded by these men in their pristine uniforms? Impossible. Biting back her sobs, she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to run. That wasn’t her. She didn’t draw attention. Darren’s place was in the spotlight—and hers was waiting off to the side with a smile plastered on her face.
Once upon a time that smile had been real. Slowly, it had become something she wore only when leaving the house, not much different from a hat. And then she’d lost it altogether. It was as if she’d set it aside the day those strangers in uniform had knocked on her door, their expressions lined with pity. She’d put her smile in a closet and closed the door.
Damn him for leaving her to face this alone!
Opening her eyes, Amy turned away from the burial. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t watch. She moved toward the trees, unsure where she was going. Away. From his death and the seemingly insurmountable, endless pain.
She stumbled over a root. A man’s hand grasped her elbow, steadying her.
“I’ve got you.” The familiar voice was a low steady rumble.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to.” Mark Rhodes, her husband’s best friend since grade school, kept a hold on her arm, leading her away.
The tears came, hot and fast, so far beyond her control, she didn’t try to hold them back. Mark stopped beside her car, gently leaning her against the passenger-side door while he reached in his pocket and withdrew a key.
“I’m taking you home,” he said.
Amy nodded, allowing him to guide her into the seat and fasten her belt. She should protest, ask him to drive to her mother-in-law’s house, where the family, friends and all those men in uniform planned to congregate after the burial. But she didn’t say a word.
Mark drove in silence. He didn’t demand to know how she was feeling—though it was probably obvious from her tears—or offer reassurances. When they pulled up to her house, he helped her out of the car as if she were a child.
Taking her hand, he led her away from the front door and down through the grass. Out back, only a short distance from the home she’d shared with Darren, stood her kennel. It was a modest building capable of boarding a dozen pets. At the moment, it stood empty. Her customers had all come for their dogs to give her the time and space to grieve.
But right now, she wanted to hear barking. She craved the sounds of everyday life.
Mark guided her to a wooden bench beside the dog run, a large fenced-in area.
“Sit down, Amy,” he said, tempering his command with a gentle tone as if she were a frightened animal.
Amy obeyed, staring out at the mountains in the distance. Heart’s Landing, Oregon, her home since birth, sat a few miles inland from the coast, surrounded by distant mountains. She loved this view and this place. But not today.
“I wish I’d worn ruby slippers,” she said.
Mark sat down beside her on the bench. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her black flats. “Might have looked out of place.”
She shook her head. “Ruby slippers so that I could click my heels three times and disappear.”
“Dorothy went home. She didn’t vanish,” he pointed out. “And the loss would follow you.”
Her brow drew together as she studied him for the first time since he’d helped her run away from the burial. Like so many of the other men, Mark wore his dress blues. The maroon beret on his head set him apart from the others, denoting that he was a member of the Air Force Pararescuemen. But beneath his uniform and his elite status, she saw her friend, the man who’d been a part of her life from the moment she’d met Darren.
“There’s no escape?” If anyone would give her the truth, it was Mark.
“From grief?” He took her hand and held it tight. “No.”
“But you look so calm and in control. You know Darren’s gone, right? He’s never coming back.”
“I know, Amy. Trust me, I understand what it feels like to face the irrefutable fact that someone you love is gone.”
This time when she examined his expression, she saw the sadness, swirling in his brown eyes. “Your mom,” she said quietly. “How did you get past it?”
“I tried to escape. Moving away, joining the air force, pushing myself to complete the courses and become a pararescue jumper. But it stayed with me.”
“Nothing helped?”
“Time.” He stared out at the scenery. “And I started a list.”
“Of what?”
“Memories. I wrote down the little moments, the pieces I didn’t want to forget.”
“A list,” she said as if she didn’t understand the meaning of the words. How could something so simple, so banal, ease this monstrous ache?
Mark shrugged. “It might not work for you. But I can tell you ruby slippers won’t do the trick, either.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” She couldn’t stay here forever, unable to eat and sleep, feeling lost in her own life. If she didn’t do something...
Tears started flowing again. She hiccuped, struggling to control the sobs as her chin shook.
Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “I’ll tell you what, write down your memories and send them to me. Write a letter or email. Send a carrier pigeon if you want. Whatever you need to share. Every small memory matters. And I’ll do the same, send my favorite Darren moments to you.”
“Do you have a memory at the top of your list?” Her voice sounded foreign, still trembling from her latest bout of crying.
“Not yet,” he said, and for the first time she heard his calm and collected tone waver.
Amy looped her arm around his waist, holding him tight as they stared out at the mountains, both thinking about the man they’d loved and lost.
“Mark,” she said softly. “Not all of my memories are good ones.”
“That’s okay, Amy. That’s okay.”
1 (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
One year later
“SCRAMBLE. SCRAMBLE.”
The commander’s voice echoed through the tactical operations center’s loudspeakers. Mark Rhodes leaned over the intel officer’s shoulder and scanned the details on the computer screen. IED blast. Double amputee. American. Special Forces. He ran for the door.
When he’d first joined the PJs, if he’d heard a mission drop, fear would have settled in his gut. What if their helicopter got hit? What if they landed on a mine? Sure, they touched down in swept areas, but shit happened. In Kandahar Province, Afghanistan, it happened every day.
But now, on his fourth deployment, he wanted to get out there and do his job. Save a life. Send a soldier home to his loved ones.
Mark reached the helicopter and started pulling on his gear. “One Alpha,” he shouted to his teammates over the bird’s roar. “This guy needs a hospital within the hour. And we’re going in hot. We’re picking him up outside the wire.”
His team nodded and climbed into the bird. They went to work, prepping IVs, getting ready to do whatever they could to keep the fallen soldier alive.
“How long has he been down?” one of Mark’s teammates asked as they lifted into the air.
“Twenty, based on when the call came in,” Mark said. By the time they reached the soldier, they would have only minutes to get him in the air and to a hospital. After one hour, the guy’s chances of making it dropped significantly.
Minutes later, Mark’s lead helicopter landed, leaving the trail helo circling overhead to provide cover. When the dust settled, three men carrying a stretcher emerged, running toward Mark and his team. They loaded the injured American on board. The soldier was conscious, a good sign. But he’d lost a lot of blood.
“Let’s go,” Mark shouted into his headset, then turned to his teammate. “Start an IO, this guy needs blood.” Drilling into the man’s arm and sending the blood directly to the bone was their best shot. Still, Mark added, “Prep an IV as backup.”
The solider turned his head toward Mark. His lips moved. Mark took the injured man’s hand and leaned over, pressing his ear close to the guy’s mouth.
“Repeat that,” Mark said.
“I wish I’d told her I loved her,” the injured soldier whispered. “My girl.”
“Stay with me and you’ll get your chance.”
“Not this time, man.” The soldier’s eyes fluttered, then closed. The hand Mark was holding went limp.
“We’re losing him.” Mark pressed his fingers to the soldier’s neck, searching for a pulse. It was there. Barely. Dammit, at times like this, he wished he’d gone to medical school and had the skills to open the guy up. But even the best surgeon probably couldn’t do more than Mark and his team in the back of a helicopter flying over a war zone.
His teammate, hovering over what was left of the man’s legs, shook his head. “This is bad. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“How far are we from the hospital?” Mark spoke into his headset, hoping like hell the pilot said five minutes or less.
“Wheels down in fifteen. Maybe more. There are reports of enemy fire to the east. We need to take the long way around.”
Shit. They couldn’t risk getting shot out of the sky, but this guy didn’t have fifteen.
“Starting CPR.” Mark checked for a pulse again. Nothing. They were losing him. Fast. He began compressions on the guy’s chest.
Twenty minutes later the bird was still in the air, taking the goddamn scenic route to avoid rocket launchers, and the soldier still didn’t have a pulse. They’d lost him. Mark knew it. But he refused to give up. He continued CPR until the helicopter touched down.
On the ground, Mark and his teammates rode with the soldier in the ambulance. He ran alongside his stretcher as they wheeled him into the trauma bay, conveying every detail to the doctors. But he knew that look in their eyes. The doctors were good, but they couldn’t save him now.
Mark stood, his teammates beside him, watching and waiting. What felt like an eternity later, after they’d tried everything they could, the attending called it.
His teammate stepped forward and handed Mark a folded American flag, one of the ones they prepped during their downtime at the base. He carried it forward and laid it on the fallen soldier’s chest, and then he turned and walked away.
They did their best to honor fallen soldiers. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Somewhere, half a world away, this man had a family and friends who had no idea they’d just lost their loved one.
And this guy—he had a girl.
Mark climbed into the helicopter for the ride back to base and closed his eyes. He hoped the soldier was wrong. He hoped the man’s girl knew how he felt about her.
But if she did know, when she learned of his death, her world would shatter. And picking up the pieces wasn’t easy. Sometimes he still felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him when he thought about losing his best friend. And he’d watched Darren’s widow navigate her own pain. Witnessing her struggle, especially in those early months, was hard.
Mark opened his eyes and stared out the window, watching the colorless landscape speed by beneath the helo. As much as he missed his mom, part of him was glad she’d already passed away. If a rocket launcher hit this helicopter right now, if tomorrow he took a bullet trying to save a fellow solider, he wouldn’t leave behind someone deeply bound to his memory. He couldn’t do that to someone he loved. And loving him—the kid who’d grown up with nothing, whose father had never given him a second thought and whose mother had worked two jobs just to get by—wasn’t worth the pain of losing him.
Back at base, the helicopter touched down, and Mark headed for the barracks. He needed to wash up and check his gear. In twelve hours, he had to be prepared to go out there again and risk his life to save a life.
The alarm on Mark’s watch sounded. He glanced down and checked the time. Shit. He was late for his video chat with Amy, the one person he made an effort to keep in touch with back home. He picked up the pace.
“Hey, Mark, time for your date?” Tommy, the team rookie, joked.
“It’s not a date,” he said gruffly, jogging past his teammates.
“You talk to that chick every week. She must be giving you something.”
“Show some respect,” Mark said. “She’s a widow. Her husband was my friend. When he got hit, he had less of a chance than the guy we lost today.”
Tommy sobered instantly. “Sorry, man.”
Mark nodded, apology accepted, as he pushed through the door. In the break room, Mark opened his laptop, the one he’d quickly set aside when the mission had dropped. While he waited for it to connect, he glanced down. Blood covered his shirt. No way he could talk to Amy like this. He pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.
“Mark?” Amy’s soft voice filled the quiet space followed by her image on the screen. She held a cup of coffee in her hands, her blond hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. When she was out working with her dogs, she always tied it back, tucking her long bangs behind her ears. But it was early still in Oregon, not even six in the morning. He knew she woke up hours before the sun every Sunday for this call.
Keeping in touch and maintaining their friendship meant something to her. Even though part of him wanted to sever ties with everyone back home, he couldn’t let go of Amy. She’d already lost so much, burying her husband at twenty-eight. If there was anything he could do to help her, he would.
For months after Darren’s funeral, they’d played the memory game, writing up long lists and sending them back and forth. She reminded him of some of the best parts of growing up in Heart’s Landing. She’d made him laugh, and once or twice, her list had reduced him to tears.
“I’m here.” He studied the screen. Amy kept her computer on her kitchen table. Through the window behind her, he could usually see Oregon’s coastal range. But today, on an early October morning, it was too dark. Part of him missed those mountains and the smell of the ocean in the air.
Mark turned his attention back to Amy, taking in the dark circles under her blue eyes. He forced a smile. For her sake, he put on a front, trying to be the fun-loving guy she remembered, not the jaded solider. “Amelia Mae, you look exhausted. Are you sleeping?”
“Hmm?” She drew her lower lip between her teeth, running her tongue back and forth, her gaze fixed on his bare chest. She hadn’t even noticed his smile. She’d been staring at his muscles. Maybe she was reading the words tattooed across his pecs—so that others may live. Or maybe she was just plain looking.
And that look, combined with the way she nibbled on her lower lip, swirling her tongue as if she wanted to taste, maybe touch, spoke to part of his body that had no business participating in their weekly chat.
Hell, this was Amy. But one more second of that look and he’d freaking want her. Every beautiful, blond inch of her.
Mark closed his eyes, pushing the thought away. He couldn’t go there. And dammit, he should have taken the time to find a clean shirt. He’d loved Amy for years, but never in a let’s-get-naked way. They’d been friends since high school. Nothing more. Not a chance.
Still, he wasn’t blind. Amy was gorgeous. But wanting what he couldn’t have...he knew better.
“What happened to your shirt?” she asked, finally looking up at his face.
“Bad day.”
“You lost someone,” she said softly.
“American. Special Forces.” She didn’t need to know the details, to picture the man bleeding out in the helicopter. He’d probably already said too much. Amy’s husband had been a SEAL. Darren had died over a year ago, but Mark knew the grief still weighed heavily on her.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. What was there to say? He was sorry, too.
“You can talk to me, Mark. I’m here and I’m listening.”
“Are you trying to make me tear up?” he said, forcing a lightness he didn’t feel, not by a long shot.
“We can joke and laugh if you want. But if you need to get it off your chest—”
“He’d lost both legs. Bled out in the helicopter. We couldn’t get him to a hospital in time. It sucked. Just plain sucked.” He rubbed his hands over his face. He’d been kidding about crying, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“We can wait and talk next week,” she said. “If you need to clean up. Rest.”
“No, my shift’s over, and I’ve been looking forward to catching up. The shower will still be waiting for me when we’re done,” he said. “But I can grab a shirt.”
She shook her head. “No. Don’t worry about it. I was just...surprised.”
There was a long pause. Mark wondered if the screen had frozen. But then Jango, the dog that had served with his best friend, appeared in the background. The Belgian Malinois was technically retired after years of working alongside navy SEALs, sniffing for bombs and weapons in war zones, but Jango didn’t act like a senior citizen adjusting to a life of chasing balls. Years of training, combined with natural instincts, might always prevent the dog from relaxing. Instead, Jango followed Amy as if she was his new handler.
Mark cleared his throat. “In your email, you said you had something to tell me. Big news.”
“I do. And you’re the first one outside of family to know about this.” Her face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning, and he damn near fell off the couch. He hadn’t seen her that excited in years.
“I’m opening a military war dog breeding and training facility. It will mean shutting down my current K-9 training business and remodeling the kennels, but in the end, it will be worth it.” Amy spoke quickly, her fingers drumming the side of her coffeecup. “Darren’s mother and his brothers support the idea. In fact, they’re donating a few acres of their land. I’ll be able to expand the training grounds and, in time, build another kennel. If I have the funds.
“The Department of Defense offered preliminary approval. They have their own breeding programs, but they’ll buy my pups, too. Provided the dogs fit with what they’re looking for. And they will. I’ve already bought a pair of Belgian Malinois from Denmark, both from top bloodlines. In the past, the DOD has been sending someone over there to purchase puppies. Now they will be born and receive their basic training right here in Oregon.”
She paused and lifted her coffee to her lips, then lowered it. “So, what do you think?”
“It’s great.”
For the first time in months, Amy sparkled. She looked like her old self again. Sure, turning her business into a military war dog program sounded cool, but she could have told him she was joining the circus, and he would have supported her 100 percent if it made her this happy.
“One more thing,” she said. Was it his imagination or had the light in her eyes dimmed? Shit, maybe she’d been looking for more enthusiasm. This was huge for her—a way to move on with her life. And he wanted that for her.
“I’m planning to open in three months and hold a dedication a few months later, probably in early March, when some of Darren’s brothers are expected home for a visit,” she continued. “Nothing big. Just family and friends. Maybe a few members of the community who express interest. Do you think you can come? You can stay in the spare bedroom.”
Heart’s Landing wasn’t a place he’d planned to visit during his brief time stateside. But the thought of seeing Amy again, in person, pushed against his reservations. This time, when he returned to his hometown, it would be for her, 100 percent. She was his closest friend now. And if there was anything he could do to help her, he was on board.
“I’m done here around then. So, yeah, I’ll be there,” he said. “You can count on it.”
2 (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
Five months later
BLOND HAIR TRAILED over his bare chest. She kissed his stomach, moving lower...
“Amy.” Her name was a plea. “Amy.”
“Hey, Rhodes.” The familiar sound of his teammate’s voice silenced his dream. “Better wake up, man, before you embarrass yourself. I don’t know who ‘Amy’ is, but she sure as hell isn’t here.”
Mark opened his eyes, blinking. What the hell? He was on a freaking plane over the ocean, still a helluva long way from Heart’s Landing and the wild, sexy woman in his dream. Amy. Except Amy had never been wild. She was quiet, always holding back. At least in high school. They’d had that in common.
Of course, he’d changed, and she probably had, too. But it didn’t matter if she’d taken up pole dancing now that she was single; she wasn’t for him.
“Yeah, crazy dream, man,” Mark said. “But it’s not what you think.”
Thinking about Amy like that, dreaming about her... Guilt rose up, wrapping around him, adding to the weight on his shoulders.
“Could have fooled me.” His teammate shook his head, picking up his book.
Mark looked out the window. He didn’t need to fool his fellow PJs. Just Amy and everyone else in Heart’s Landing.
* * *
AMY STOOD OUTSIDE the remodeled kennel holding an empty dog food dish and waiting for her cousin. A very hungry Belgian Malinois sat at her feet.
She stole a quick peek through the glass-paned door into the reception area. Three men gathered around the box of doughnuts and coffee she’d set out on the folding table. The food had bought her a five-minute delay, ten tops. But leaving three soldiers waiting was like placing puppies in the living room and expecting them to keep their mouths off the furniture. As soon as the doughnuts disappeared, the guys would become restless. They wouldn’t chew the chair legs, but they’d get into something.
If Eloise didn’t get here soon—
“You are the only person in the whole world I would drop everything for to deliver a ten-pound bag of gluten-free dog food.”
Amy stepped back from the door and turned to her cousin. She was Amy’s mirror image, same blond hair and blue eyes, except Eloise stood four inches shorter, even in her cowboy boots. Amy always felt like a giraffe next to her cousin.
“I got up at three in the morning last Saturday,” Amy said. “Packed five puppies and Jango in my car, and drove over an hour to pick you up when you decided to sneak out on your date after he fell asleep.”
Eloise dropped the bag at Amy’s feet. “We’ll call it even.”
Jango sniffed the food before looking up at them.
“Yes, that’s for you, old man. Easier to digest,” Amy said. “And better for you than puppy chow. You don’t need the extra calories.”
“But you do.” Eloise held out a bag. “Blueberry muffin. I’m guessing you forgot to eat this morning.”
“I was planning to grab a doughnut while I discussed the opening with the guys.”
Eloise stepped around her and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the glass. “Wow. Talk about testosterone overload. I don’t know how you do it. If I was in the same room with them, I wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence. I’d be too busy trying to figure out which one would look best without his shirt.”
Mark. Her brain heard the words without his shirt, and she thought of Mark. Those muscles begging to be touched, maybe more...
Amy swept her long bangs behind her ear, trying to erase the thought. Months had passed since she’d seen a half-naked Mark on her computer screen, and still, she couldn’t forget the well-defined lines of his chest and his sculpted abs. Probably because he was the only half-naked man she’d seen in more than a year—the ones on the covers of her romance novels didn’t count—but even if she wanted a hot fling, it wouldn’t be with a man serving his country. Active-duty soldiers spelled heartbreak, and she’d learned that lesson already.
“My bet?” Eloise continued, gesturing to the men on the other side of the window. “Gabe. But T.J.’s a close second.”
“Stop,” Amy said. “They’re my brothers-in-law.”
And Mark was like a pseudo-brother-in-law, too. Except she didn’t think of him that way anymore. He was her friend, first, foremost and always. He was the one who had been there for her, talking to her each week, not only about Darren, but also about life. She spoke freely with him, holding almost nothing back. Almost. There were some things she couldn’t share, especially not through a computer screen.
“Or maybe Luke,” Eloise said. “The way that man talks about his dog, you can tell he loves her to pieces. It’s so easy to trust a man who is crazy about his four-legged friend. And trust, well, that can be key in the bedroom. I bet—”
“Please, I’m begging you,” Amy said. “I’ve known them forever.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that you are about to enter a room full of hotties. Maybe I should stick around and wait until you put them to work, so I can see those hard bodies in action.”
“It’s cold today. Even for March. I think they’ll keep their clothes on while they work. And don’t you have patients to see?”
Her cousin shrugged. “Two cats coming in for teeth cleanings. Both owners are young, single women. I’m sure they’d understand if I told them I had to watch the Benton brothers.”
“Your feline patients might not be so understanding.”
“True.” Eloise moved away from the door. “I don’t think they left you a doughnut. I didn’t even see the box.”
“I need to get in there. If I don’t keep them busy, they’ll get into trouble.” Amy tossed the bag of dog food over her shoulder. “Thanks for driving out here. I couldn’t handle a sick Jango on top of everything else.”
“Anytime. If you need help keeping those boys busy, call me. I know a few ways to keep bachelor soldiers entertained.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Amy said drily.
Eloise pointed at the bag. “And eat your muffin. You won the tall-gene lottery. You don’t get to be superskinny, too.”
Amy waved to her cousin and went into her meeting, Jango following at her heels. “Hi, guys.”
“Let me get that.” Gabe, the oldest of the bunch, plucked the bag from her shoulder.
Her cousin had been right about one thing. The testosterone level in here was through the roof. Thank goodness the fourth brother, Jeremy, was still deployed. One more and she might have to take precautionary measures.
The Benton brothers each possessed an overwhelming male presence. When they got together, they were lethal. Three brown-haired, blue-eyed gods among men. And apart from T.J., the youngest and the runt at six feet, the brothers towered over mere five-foot-seven mortals like her.
Amy watched as Gabe placed the dog food bag on the ground, his biceps flexed. These men had to-die-for muscles. Eloise was right about that, too. Every woman in Heart’s Landing would love to see these guys without their shirts.
Except Amy.
To her, the Benton brothers were walking, talking reminders of the man she’d loved and lost. Darren had inherited the same blue eyes and brown hair. And like his brothers, Darren had walked into a room, and everyone had known he was there. They’d gravitated toward him. For most of their marriage, Amy had been by his side, content to bask in his glow.
But he was gone. The loss had been crushing at first. Darren had defined her world since she was fifteen. Year after year, she’d waited for him to come home and counted down the days until he deployed again. While he’d been on the other side of the world, she’d trained and boarded other people’s pets, dreaming of the day when she would have her own kennel and raise her own dogs. But those plans had always taken a backseat to Darren’s commitment to the SEALs.
Now, after eighteen months of mourning, she was ready to redefine her life.
“Do you want me to fill his bowl?” her brother-in-law asked, drawing her attention back to the office.
Amy shook her head. “I’ll do it. He doesn’t like it when others feed him.”
Gabe stepped back. No one in this room would question Jango’s preferences. Three of the four remaining Benton brothers were military war dog handlers, and T.J. worked as a vet at Lackland Air Force Base, caring for the animals and helping the trainers implement their programs.
“Great place, Ames,” Luke said.
“Thanks,” she said. All of Darren’s family had started calling her Ames when Darren had first brought her around. They hadn’t even been dating yet, but she’d already been part of the family. “How was your trip?”
“From Afghanistan?” Luke said. “Long, but uneventful. I’m looking forward to my two-week vacation before I report back.”
“Well, this won’t be a trip to the beach. I hope you got a good night’s sleep and are ready to work today. I have a list of projects a mile long to get this place ready for the puppies. I would love to move them out of my spare bedroom before we officially open. Bullet, the father of this litter, has been living here for a while now, but I still have five puppies and their mama in the house.”
T.J. clapped his hands together. “Bring it on.”
“We want this place to be perfect. Mom said most of the town will be here for the opening reception and dedication,” Luke added.
Amy nodded. Over the past few weeks, the simple ribbon-cutting ceremony for family and close friends had spiraled out of control. Amy had turned to her mother-in-law for help with the guest list, and the next thing she knew, one hundred and fifty people were coming to see her cut the ribbon. Caterers had been hired and a tent reserved. She was expected to give a speech.
“We’re here, Ames,” Gabe said. “For whatever you need.”
“Good. You guys are my crew for the next few days. The tent arrives Thursday afternoon. I told the rental company that my volunteers could handle putting it together. I’m investing everything in the dogs and the reception.”
Amy ran though her list of projects—build the obstacle course in the field, finish the fencing and install doggy doors so the pups could move between an indoor shelter and outdoor play area.
“Damn, Ames,” T.J. said. “You’ve thought of everything. Your training course sounds better than Lackland’s.”
“These dogs will be the best,” she said. Her pride would stand in the way of anything less. She understood what these dogs were capable of doing, and she knew the training they needed. When the DOD came to see them, her animals would be ready to ship out.
Gabe stepped forward and slung one arm over her shoulders, drawing her close to his side. “Darren would be so proud. He deserves this. To be remembered as a hero.”
Darren had given his life for his country. That was the definition of the word, wasn’t it? Whether she built a dog breeding facility in his honor would never change that fact. “He does,” she said. “But—”
“But he always was your hero, wasn’t he, Ames?” Gabe added. “Always perfect in your eyes.”
No. Amy pressed her lips together, not saying a word. Darren had been her husband and her best friend. She would always love him. But there was a time, before his death, when he’d stopped being her hero.
Gabe shook his head. “How did my brother get so lucky? We were born and raised in the same town, went to the same high school, and not one of us found a girl like you.”
“You found plenty of girls like me. I was under the impression you preferred to catch and release.” She glanced at her audience, hoping for a laugh, or at least a smile.
Nothing.
Amy felt something heavy pressing against her leg and looked down to see Jango. Good boy, he’d sensed her tension and decided she needed him.
Amy crouched down. “Need to go out, buddy?”
The dog looked at her as if to say, I can hold it, but you need to get out of here. Pronto.
“I’ll let you guys get started. I’ll be up at the house with the dogs if you need anything.” She stood and led Jango out the door.
“You got it, Amy. But don’t worry about us. We’ll have this place ready for you,” Gabe said. “We’ll swing by later after we pick up Mark and give you a progress report.”
“Thanks.” She followed Jango outside.
Four more days. She had to make it through the opening and dedication. After that, the Benton brothers would return to serving their country. She could pretend her dream was nothing more than a way to keep Darren’s memory alive for a few days. For their sake. Maybe it would help them. Transforming her vision for this place into a reality had allowed her to restart her life after losing Darren. It had given her a reason to get out of bed each day.
But purpose infused the Benton brothers’ lives. They served their country. For them, coming home was like opening an old wound. She had a hunch their grief felt fresh and overwhelming when they were back in Heart’s Landing. They didn’t see this town as a place to move forward. They came here to remember.
She stopped halfway between the farmhouse and the kennel, waiting while Jango marked a tree. Would Mark feel the same? Unease settled in her stomach, forming a tight ball.
For months now, their Sunday talks had centered on the present—how the kennel was progressing, her trip to Denmark to pick up the dogs she planned to breed and, when he felt like sharing, the lives he’d saved. Would coming home open old wounds? Would he join the others in the seemingly endless toast to her late husband’s memory?
Probably. After all, Darren had been like a brother to Mark.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, bracing against the cool March wind. Winter had lingered this year, refusing to give way to spring. Jango trotted back to her side, and they headed for the house to check on the puppies. It would be nice, she thought, hugging her arms tight, if someone saw how much she needed this place to be hers.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Amy raced down the stairs in a T-shirt and underwear with Jango at her side.
“Let go,” she called. Charlie and Foxtrot, the two most promising and troublesome puppies, ran in different directions, each holding a leg of her jeans between their teeth.
“Come on, guys, I need my pants,” she said.
Foxtrot won the tug-of-war game, ripping the jeans from Charlie’s mouth. Amy smiled. Out of this litter, Foxtrot showed the most promise. He had the drive to win. Just like a solider entering Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training had to want a place on the SEAL teams so badly he’d push past anything to get there, the dogs selected to work with the SEALs had to be the best. And being the best meant they never gave up. Every game of tug-of-war mattered. They had to win. Every ball thrown had to be retrieved. The dog wouldn’t have it any other way. And that was Foxtrot, always the winner.
Charlie, the loser, tumbled but quickly recovered to chase his brother around the corner and into the kitchen.
Following them, she heard a loud rip. Maybe Charlie had it in him to serve with the SEALs, too. He’d just won half of her pants.
“Okay, you can keep the jeans,” she said. “I’ll find another pair. But I need you guys to go back to the guest room.”
Ignoring her, the dogs disappeared from view, heading for the front room. While two stories, the farmhouse’s footprint was small. A living room off the main entrance with a hall that led to the kitchen, the spare bedroom and the stairs. The upper floor featured an open, loft-style master bedroom. When the puppies escaped their room, they had free rein of the house. And she was starting to suspect they knew it. All the more reason to whelp this litter and move them into the kennel.
She heard a knocking from the front room followed by a series of barks and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know what they’d done to make that sound.
Amy rounded the corner and found the puppies on the couch shredding her jeans.
“Drop it,” she said in a loud, authoritative tone.
This time they released her pants and looked up at her. But a second knocking diverted their attention. The front door.
“Amy?”
Oh, no. For the past eighteen months, she’d heard that voice through her computer every Sunday.
“Just a minute.” But the puppies barked, drowning out her words. They jumped off the couch, taking her destroyed jeans with them.
She heard the knob turn, and Gabe say, “It should be unlocked. She knows we’re coming.”
Amy glanced down and groaned. Leopard-print undies with the words Feeling Lucky in big red letters. She’d bought them on sale months ago. At the time she’d thought no one would ever see them.
Her three brothers-in-law stepped into her living room. Mark followed, his rucksack over his shoulder, still wearing his uniform. She watched as four sets of eyes widened.
“Shit, Amy. The door was open. I’m sorry,” Gabe said, redirecting his gaze. The rest of the brothers did the same, looking at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but at her.
Not Mark. His were the only eyes in the room still fixed on her. And judging from the intensity of his stare, he wasn’t embarrassed. He looked...interested. But it had been so long since a man had glanced at her with even a hint of desire that she was probably imagining it. She watched his lips move and realized he was reading the words on her underwear.
“The puppies stole my pants,” she said.
Amy saw the exact moment it clicked for Mark. He heard her voice, and he no longer saw her as a woman in her undies, but as Darren’s widow. That hint of desire, the one she may or may not have imagined, vanished. He looked away, shaking his head.
And great, now she was standing in a room full of drop-dead gorgeous men, in her underwear, and not one of them was looking at her.
3 (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
FEELING LUCKY?
Mark read the red letters, knowing he should look away. The other guys radiated discomfort, shifting restlessly. But Mark couldn’t do it.
Those long bare legs begged a man to fall to his knees and worship her. One glance and he knew he’d start by running his hands over her calves, gently guiding her legs farther apart, until he reached her thighs. He’d lean forward and run his lips, his tongue, his teeth over those red letters...
Shit, he shouldn’t go there, not even in his freaking imagination. Make that especially not in his imagination after that dream he’d had on the flight back. But seeing Amy in her underwear uncovered a feeling that bordered on foreign. Desire, need, whatever the hell it was, looking at her, it hit him hard—and left him aching to touch and taste.
His gaze narrowed in, focusing on those sparkling words. If only luck was on his side.
While deployed, fear was his constant companion. It kept him vigilant, ready for the worst. The way he looked at it, skill kept him alive. Beneath the fear was a boatload of sadness and loss. Nothing lucky about that.
He heard her say something about puppies and pants. But Jango distracted him. One look at the dog and the desire vanished. The animal was like a shadow, always there. He was a four-legged, living and breathing reminder that Amy belonged to his best friend. He shouldn’t be reading the words on her underwear. Not now, not ever.
“I’ll go throw on some pants,” she said. “Make yourselves at home.”
Mark heard Amy’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards, but kept his gaze trained on the wall. The stairs creaked, and he felt the brothers breathe a collective sigh of relief.
“Didn’t need to see that,” T.J. muttered.
“We should get back to work,” Gabe said, turning to the door. “Tell Amy we’ll catch up with her later. Over drinks at the Tall Pines Tavern?”
Mark nodded. “Sure thing. And thanks for the ride.”
Luke slapped his shoulder as they walked past. “Anytime, man. Good to have you home.”
The brothers hightailed it out the door. Mark dropped his rucksack on the floor and thought about following them. But it seemed like a bad idea to let the discomfort fester. Not when he’d come all this way to help her. He’d seen Amy in a bathing suit before. This wasn’t any different.
Two puppies raced through the room, each dragging a piece of what he guessed had been her jeans. They paused to bark at him, the unfamiliar person in their home, and then raced off again with their prize.
Watching the remains of her pants disappear around the corner, Mark realized a bathing suit was one thing. Leopard-print underwear was another. Someone was supposed to read those words—feeling lucky—and take action.
Was she seeing someone? She’d never said anything. But he was probably the last person she’d tell. Or at least on the list of last people. Darren’s brothers were up there, too. If she was...well, hell, that was exactly what she needed. Someone new. A fresh start.
His jaw tightened. But whoever the guy was, he’d better be worthy of Amy. She’d been through so much. If some jerk thought he could breeze in and out of her life, Mark would be tempted to kick the shit out of him. And he had a feeling Darren’s brothers would be next in line.
“Sorry about that.” Amy walked into the room. This time she wore a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversize sweatshirt. She’d pulled her long hair into a ponytail. She looked exactly like the Amy he remembered from high school.
“They’re six weeks old, and I’ve been doing some bite work with them,” she said, speaking quickly, a sure sign she was still embarrassed. “Mostly chasing rags. They saw my jeans and thought it was a game.”
Mark shrugged. “Most people are so excited to see me they forget their pants.”
Funny or not, the joke worked its magic and diffused the discomfort.
Amy cocked her head to one side and smiled. “You save people. I guess that is to be expected.”
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tight.
Mark closed his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had held him. The flare of desire he’d sensed earlier was gone. Her hug? It was better than Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings. It was pure comfort. Considering he’d been in Afghanistan less than forty-eight hours ago, it felt like a luxury.
“I missed you,” she said. He felt her breath on his neck and moved away, breaking the physical connection before his body misinterpreted the way she was pressed up against him, and he started thinking about falling down on his knees and worshipping her again.
“Same here.” The puppies raced around the corner, their paws sliding on the wooden floorboards. “Want some help rounding them up?”
“Let me grab some treats.”
Mark followed her into the kitchen, taking in every detail. Nothing had changed. Pictures of Amy with her dogs, of her and Darren, hung on the walls. There was a large framed shot of her parents sitting on a boat.
“Your folks enjoying Florida?” he asked.
“They love it.” She removed a handful of jerky treats from a jar. “My mom likes the weather, and she’s thrilled to be closer to my grandmother. My aunt moved down there, too. They thought about coming west for the opening, but it’s a long trip. I told them not to bother.”
“That’s too bad. What you’re doing here is pretty impressive. I’m sure they’d be proud.”
“Thanks, but you haven’t even seen the kennels yet.”
As if they’d smelled the treats through the walls, the puppies came running. Amy offered one to each dog as she led them around the corner. “Or met Nova and Bullet.”
“The dogs you brought back from Europe?”
She nodded, opening the door to the spare bedroom. “I’ve been keeping Nova in here with her puppies while we finish the kennels. They should be able to move down in the next few days, before the opening. Until then, you’re stuck on the couch. I hope that’s okay.”
“Long as I’m not in the way.”
She knelt down beside a large Belgian Malinois and began rubbing her belly. “I’ll be glad for the company.”
He looked around the room. Two adult dogs, including Jango, and five puppies. “Looks like you have a full house already.”
“I’d like to talk to someone who doesn’t bark at me,” she said. “Eloise doesn’t count. The only time she stays here she is too drunk to drive home, or avoiding her latest romantic disaster.”
“Sounds like the same old Eloise.” He bent over and scooped up a tan puppy with a striking black nose and pointed ears. Mark was familiar with the breed, but also knew they were often mistaken for German shepherds. The little one in his hands bore a strong resemblance to the more popular breed.
“What about you?” Mark asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Amy froze, her hand on Nova’s belly. “Wow, no one has asked me that.”
Mark shrugged, turning the puppy onto her back. From a young age, war dogs were handled a lot, put in different positions to make them comfortable with anything. “Darren’s been gone eighteen months.”
“I know, but—I’ve been busy. Opening this place has taken all my time.”
The tension Mark had been holding on to since he’d first thought her underwear might have an intended audience slipped away.
“And I haven’t exactly been looking,” she added.
“Then your couch sounds great. An upgrade from the crowded barracks.”
Amy stood and turned to him. He knew that look. She’d worn the same expression when she won homecoming queen. Pure astonishment.
“You thought you’d be in the way because I was seeing someone?” She let out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he said, looking up at her. “It’s not such a crazy idea.”
He cut himself off before he said things he couldn’t take back. Amy didn’t need to know that he’d taken one look at her bare legs and thought about running his hands up her limbs because, shit, his mind should never have traveled down that road. She might be single, but that didn’t mean he was the guy to fill the empty space in her bed.
“Sometimes it still kind of feels like it is,” she said softly. Then she gave a little shake of her head and turned to the door. “You came all this way, I think I owe you a tour.”
“Love one.” He returned the puppy to his mother and held the door for Amy and Jango.
With the sun sinking low in the sky, they walked through the yard to the kennel. It was double in size, compared to the previous structure. He knew she’d done well with her dog training and boarding business, and enjoyed it, but a building this size suggested she was seriously committed to her new venture.
He stopped a few feet from the door, resting his hands on his hips as he studied the new kennel. She’d painted it white with a forest green trim. It looked shiny and new.
“Impressive,” he said.
She looped her arm through his. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
He followed her through the reception area into a long hall with individual rooms lining either side. Peering through an open door, he saw that each room held a doghouse and two doors—one doggy and one human—to a small fenced outdoor area.
“I tried to replicate the kennels where the SEAL teams kept their dogs,” she said. “On a smaller scale, of course.”
“You did a kick-ass job.” The place was amazing. How she’d pulled it together in only a few months, while working to secure the funds from the bank, astonished him.
“When Darren was home, I would ask him to draw sketches of the kennels Jango lived in. He also made lists of changes he wanted to make and things he’d keep the same. And I added some of my own ideas, too.”
Mark paused and leaned against the entry to a modern, brand-new veterinary exam room.
“You should be proud of yourself.”
Her lips curved, offering a hint of a smile. “I am.”
“Are you planning to head out with the guys tonight?” He stepped into the exam room, closer to her. After seeing her in her underwear, he knew he should keep his distance. But he couldn’t do it. “To Tall Pines Tavern?”
“I might drop by. I think the puppies are old enough now to be left alone for an hour or two. Maybe I’ll see if Mrs. Benton can stop in and check on them.”
“How about I take you to dinner first?” he said, running his hand over the metal table’s smooth surface. “Toast your success.”
Amy blinked. Shit, he’d surprised her. Too late to take it back now. He kept his gaze fixed on her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jango stand. The animal looked ready to attack. It was as if he’d understood Mark’s words but misinterpreted his intentions. This was just dinner between two friends. And that was all they’d ever be—friends.
* * *
AMY STARED AT MARK as if he was speaking a foreign language. She’d eaten dinner with Mark hundreds of times. But there was something about this invitation that sent her mind spiraling back to the flash of longing she’d seen in his eyes earlier. The thought of sitting across from him, sharing a meal, his attention focused on her...
“I...um...yes. Okay,” she said, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.
He nodded. “Is Lucia’s Italian place still open?”
“It is. But I think they changed their sauce. It’s too sweet now. There’s a new Mexican place in town that makes the best enchiladas.”
“Your night, your choice.”
“Mexican it is.” Amy led Mark back into the kennel’s central hall. “But I need to finish up a few things first. Check with the guys. I’ll come find you in an hour.”
Mark nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
He headed for the exit, his hands shoved in his pockets. She had a lot to do before dinner, but she didn’t move until the door closed behind him. It felt good, seeing him in the flesh instead of on a screen. And the fact that he, of all people, understood what she was trying to do here—that meant so much.
Amy turned and moved toward the sound of hammers pounding, planning to tell the Benton brothers to call it quits for the day But she stopped out of sight of where the brothers were working and closed her eyes. She felt Jango sit by her side and press up against her leg. Reaching down, she touched the dog’s head.
Part of her still felt married and that even the smallest hint of desire was a betrayal. But Darren was gone. And eighteen months was a long time. Moving forward—she was allowed to want that, wasn’t she?
“I’ve waited,” she whispered. “For so long.”
In high school, she’d waited for Darren to notice her. After that she’d waited for him to ask her out and, later, marry her. Then she’d waited three hundred days out of every year for him to come home.
She’d put her dream business on hold because Darren wasn’t ready to quit his SEAL team. After his death, she’d waited for the grief to fade, knowing only time would help her heal. And it had. But now, after spending the past twelve years in a holding pattern, she was done waiting.
Jango turned his head up, licking the palm of her hand. “Even if I am ready to put myself out there and start dating, Mark isn’t the guy,” she whispered.
Yes, he was gorgeous—especially with his shirt off. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d been her husband’s best friend.
4 (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
FOR THE FIRST TIME in months, Amy felt full. Enchiladas, chips, guacamole—she’d devoured all of it while discussing her plans for the kennel. Mark sat opposite her, listening and occasionally surveying the restaurant.
Amy studied the collar of his button-down shirt peeking out from underneath his sweater. When had he started wearing dress shirts? He’d always been a T-shirt kind of guy. Maybe a sweatshirt or flannel in the colder months. Nothing that drew attention. And in Heart’s Landing a button-down in a place where no one dressed for dinner was bound to make people look twice. She’d already caught half a dozen diners, mostly women, glancing their way.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with his shirt. At six-four, Mark towered over most men. A sweater and dress shirt didn’t exactly hide his broad chest and powerful arms. Of course, she’d seen those muscles stripped bare...
She pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the here and now.
“You look nice.” She waved at his collar. “Fancy shirt.”
Mark shrugged. “I travel light, especially when I know I won’t be back long. And I wanted to look decent for your opening.”
Back, not home. Didn’t he still consider Heart’s Landing home? If not here, where? His words sank in further. He was leaving again soon. She’d known that from day one. Mark had a month’s leave at most, and he hadn’t said how much of that time he planned to spend in Oregon. But still, hearing him say it thrust her into the past. She’d hated the goodbyes, could still feel the dread.
“You could wear your dress uniform,” she said, scraping the last of the guacamole from the bowl even though her appetite had vanished.
“I will if you’d prefer. But I figured you already had Gabe walking around in his navy whites. Plus Luke and T.J. in their dress uniforms.”
And Mark had always been more comfortable in the background. In high school, he’d been a star on the football team—and an attractive one with his wavy brown hair and rich brown eyes. He’d drawn half the cheerleading squad’s attention. Yet, he’d always hung back.
“Wear whatever you’re comfortable in. I’m just glad you’re here.” She polished off her last chip and pushed the bowl away.
“You were hungry. We could always order another.”
“I can’t eat another bite. But if you want more, go ahead.”
Mark shook his head, his eyes darting to the door and back. She wanted to reassure him that nothing bad was likely to happen in their quiet little town. But she suspected he already knew that.
“How does it feel to be here?” she asked gently. “The transition from Afghanistan to a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere has to be a culture shock.”
“Like I’ve walked into the past,” he said grimly.
“Not much changes here,” she acknowledged. “Mrs. Marlowe is still running the general store. And half of the people in town head over to Tall Pines to drink and dance every night. Not that I go much, but Eloise drags me in every so often. Most people haven’t changed since high school, just aged a bit, gotten married and had babies.”
She was rambling on and on, but she wanted to lighten the mood. If Mark needed to talk, of course she’d listen. He’d been there for her in the early months, first in person and later through the computer screen. But she’d rather close the door to heavy conversation, at least for one night.
Mark smiled. “I think you’ve thrown Heart’s Landing a curveball with your kennel.”
And just like that, the door slammed shut. “Everyone in town...they’ve been very supportive.”
“Your passion for those dogs is contagious. They feel that and want to be a part of what you’re doing.”
Amy cocked her head, studying him. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“That you’re a passionate woman? Yes.”
Amy laughed. That comment was pure Mark. If she hadn’t known him since elementary school, she would have thought he was flirting with her.
“Wow, that came out wrong.” He ran his hands through his short brown hair. The waves all the girls had admired in high school had been lost to a military buzz cut.
“I guess some things don’t change,” she said. “You still have a way with words.”
“Yeah, being here makes me feel like I’m back in high school. Opening my mouth and sticking my foot in.”
“Like when you picked Molly McAdams up for a first date and you promised her father that you wouldn’t do any of the things you wanted to do with her?”
“Her dad came to the door with a shotgun. I was trying to tell him I wouldn’t lay a hand on his daughter. It came out wrong.”
“Molly thought it was hysterical. She told everyone the next day.”
“I remember,” he said. “I learned to keep my mouth shut and avoid girls whose fathers owned guns.”
Amy laughed. “That was everyone in school.”
“I know.”
Amy paged through her memory. Mark had steered clear of other girls after Molly. Maybe that incident, and the way Molly had retold the story of Mark’s fumbled words for the rest of their junior year, had bothered him more than he’d let on.
Staring across the table at the tall, muscular man, she didn’t see the quiet boy she remembered from high school. Yes, he’d just given her a verbal reminder, but the man who’d said the wrong thing was not the same person she video chatted with each week.
“You’re different when you’re deployed,” she said. “More focused and intense.”
Any trace of humor faded away. “I have to be. I lead a team of men. When a mission drops, we can’t mess around. I need my team to follow my orders.”
Amy nodded. Lives depended on him. Just thinking about it was sobering.
“Mark, how did you know that you wanted to be a PJ?” she asked. “You could have stayed here and become a doctor if you wanted to save lives.”
“Medical school was a little out of my reach.”
In high school, she’d asked Darren if Mark’s mom minded that her son ate dinner with the Benton family six out of seven nights a week. She’s not home, Darren had said. If he wasn’t here, Mark would be alone. And I don’t think there is much to eat at his place.
“I think we both know how much the people over there need help,” he added. “Getting soldiers home to their loved ones, that’s what I’m good at.”
“It’s your passion.”
“It’s a job, Amy. Just a job.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
He tensed as if the touch surprised him, but didn’t pull away. Turning his hand over, he interlaced his fingers with hers, holding tight. A taut energy radiated from his touch. And she didn’t want to let go. She felt his strong presence through the computer each week. But this—this was more.
Or maybe she was imagining things. Maybe dormant desire had chosen this moment to rise to the surface, demanding she pay attention.
His gaze met hers across the table, searching and intent. It was as if he was trying to decode the meaning behind her words and the way her hand held his.
I want—
Mark’s phone vibrated on the table, silencing the errant thoughts. He picked it up, scanning the screen. “It’s Luke. They’re at Tall Pines. We’ve been ordered to join them.”
“We can’t avoid your welcome home forever.” She smiled. “I’ll get the check. Are you okay to split it?”
“I’m buying, Amy. I insist.”
The way he said those words left her nodding. “Okay, but your first drink at the bar is on me.”
“Deal.” Mark signaled to the waitress.
After settling up, they headed for the door. Part of her wished they could stay here, just the two of them, joking about the past and learning more about the people they’d become. But it was only a matter of time before the Benton brothers would come looking for them, determined to drag them both into the town spotlight.
* * *
MARK HESITATED, HIS HAND on the door to the tavern. He could hear the live country band and the stomp of cowboy boots on the dance floor from the street. The place would be packed. Not many bars around here and with the Benton brothers in town everyone would be at Tall Pines tonight.
He glanced over at Amy. Mark wanted to return to the quiet intimacy of the restaurant and keep her to himself for a little longer. Coming home, he felt as if he’d pulled on boots that he’d outgrown years ago. But with Amy he could kick them off and relax. Right now, that sounded a helluva lot better than facing old friends from school.
“Ready?” she asked, moving to his side.
“It’s crowded in there.”
She bit her lip, and he felt her shifting away as if she might turn around and head back to her truck. “I had a bad feeling it would be,” she said. “The guys likely rounded everyone up. Told them you were home.”
“We can leave. I’ll text Luke, tell him you’re tired and that I had to drive you home.”
“No. It’s your first night back. You should have fun. Drink. Visit with friends. I’ll be fine.” She glanced through the window beside the door. “As long as I stay off the dance floor.”
Mark frowned. “You were always the first one out there. To this day, you’re still the only person who has ever made me dance.”
“And your junior prom date loved that.”
“She knew it was part of the deal in advance,” he said. “But you stayed on the floor until they kicked us out of the gym.”
“I’m not up for dancing tonight. Too much Mexican food,” she said, glancing at the window again. “Mind if I hold on to your arm?”
His brow furrowed. “Sure.”
She stepped closer, looping her arm through his, leaning into him. Shock waves pulsed through him as if her body touching his set off a chain reaction heading south. And he sure as shit was going to stop it before that happened.
Mark told himself it was a matter of getting readjusted to living in a world that wasn’t peopled with his teammates and injured soldiers, where touch was more than a dying man’s hand in his and a fellow PJ slapping him on the back. His reaction had nothing to do with Amy’s slim legs or soft curves.
“If I tell them I twisted my ankle I won’t have to dance,” she said. “You know, if anyone asks. And they always do when I come here.”
Mark frowned. “You’re serious about not dating.”
“That, too.”
He stared at the Tall Pines’s wooden door. “It’s been more than a year, Amy.”
“I know, but...”
She started to move away, and he refused to let her go. Placing his hand on her arm, he kept her close. “But what?” he demanded. “What’s holding you back?”
“When I start dating again,” she said softly, “I need to find someone who sees me.”
“Okay, I get that,” he said, glancing down at her. Was he like the others? When he looked at Amy, what did he see?
A slim blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty with long legs—shit, a man would have to be half-dead not to fantasize about running his hands up her limbs. But looking down at her, Mark couldn’t set aside the fact that Amy was so much more than a beautiful blonde. He saw a woman who was working her tail off to establish her new business breeding dogs to help soldiers and law enforcement in the field.
“It’s a big step,” he said. “You deserve someone who respects you. You should take as much time as you need.”
“Thanks.” She let out a sigh. “But on the flip side, I miss dating. I miss sex. After all, I am a ‘passionate woman.’”
“Not going to live that one down for a while, am I?” he said, doing his best to separate the words Amy and sex in his head.
“Nope. Not for a while.” Her smile faded as she glanced through the window at the crowded dance floor. “So, are you willing to play along and pretend I stumbled getting down from the truck?”
“As long as I get to keep you company in the non-dancing section,” he said.
“Deal.”
Mark opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of stale beer hit him, bringing back memories. There had been a time in his teens when walking into this place and inhaling that scent had seemed like a dream. He’d sneaked in once with some of the guys from the football team, but they’d been kicked to the curb the minute they’d tried to order a drink. The bartender had threatened to call their mamas if they came back before their twenty-first birthdays.
Looking at the place now, not much had changed. A wooden bar ran down one side of the restaurant, lined with stools. The cramped stage stood on the opposite side. A live country band, probably local, played fast and furious, strumming guitars and fiddles, pounding away at the drum kit, while the crowd danced. Wooden tables and mismatched chairs filled the space between the bar and the dance floor.
He spotted the Benton brothers standing by a table, holding court. Some of the men and women were familiar, old friends from school, and some were new. T.J. saw them first and waved. Mark headed over, taking it slow as Amy leaned against him.
Her hand held tight to his forearm, and even through the fabric of his clothes, her touch bordered on intimate. Mark’s jaw tightened as he mentally swept that thought away alongside Amy and sex. But with Amy’s slim figure aligned with his, from where her shoulder pressed up against his biceps down to where her hip touched his thigh, it was easy to buy into her little white lie. To pretend that she needed him, holding her, supporting her, and... Shit, what he needed was a drink.
“Oh, Eloise,” Amy murmured. Mark followed her gaze. Amy’s cousin was standing close to Gabe’s side. And the eldest Benton brother wasn’t fighting her off. Just the opposite. He had his hand on her lower back, holding her close. Mark doubted Eloise had sprained her ankle, too.
Mark and Amy reached the table as Luke raised his glass. “About time you joined us. We’ve been toasting your homecoming without you.”
Completing the semicircle of brothers, T.J. stood beside Luke, studying the nonexistent space between Mark’s body and Amy. “Something wrong, Ames?”
She tensed at the nickname, her fingers digging into his arm. “Twisted my ankle in the parking lot.”
T.J. stepped forward. “Want me to take a look at it?”
“You’re a vet, not a medic,” Mark said, leading a limping Amy to one of the two empty chairs.
“I didn’t realize they were calling the PJs out for twisted ankles,” T.J. shot back.
“I’ve got her.” Mark lowered Amy down, his hands on her arms and his face close to hers.
“You don’t have to put on a show,” she whispered.
“I don’t mind.” It beat handing her off to one of the cowboys hovering nearby ready and willing to swing her onto the dance floor. He’d counted three men looking her way as they’d hobbled toward the Benton brothers. Despite what Amy might believe, those men hadn’t seen her long, jean-clad legs or her wide blue eyes and thought widow. He’d bet money there wasn’t an ounce of pity in any one of them.
Mark lower himself onto one knee beside Amy’s feet and lifted her calf up, resting it across his thigh. “Let’s have a look.”
He slipped her shoe off, running his hands up to her ankle. He’d spent the past few months treating strangers, but touching them had never felt personal. With Amy, it was. Her skin was soft and smooth. The ruby-red nail polish on her toes caught the bar’s dim lighting, pulling his focus from his job.
Mark held Amy’s foot in one hand, turning it left and right, while his other hand rested on her calf, drifting higher than necessary. “Does this hurt?”
Amy nodded. “It does. When you turn it to the side. But just a bit.”
His fingers traced the curve of her ankle, his touch bordering on teasing. If anyone looked too closely, they’d realize Mark had stretched the definition of “ankle exam.” He looked up at her, hoping like hell she couldn’t see the heat he felt pulsing through his body in his gaze.
“Good news,” he said.
“I’ll live?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
He nodded. “It’s not sprained. Rest it for a bit, and you’ll be back on your feet by the end of the night.”
“But no dancing?” she asked as he slipped her shoe back on and lowered her foot to the floor.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Mark stood. “I’ll get you a drink. What are you having?”
“White wine, please.” He could hear the hint of laughter in her tone, as if she’d enjoyed their little performance. “But I’m buying, remember?”
“You can pay me back later,” he said before she reached for her purse. “I don’t want you to disturb your ankle. Save me a seat?”
Amy patted the empty chair beside. “All yours.”
He placed their order at the bar and turned to watch the dance floor. He knew most of these people, and even the ones he didn’t looked like locals. Not many tourists in Heart’s Landing. Sure, they were close to the coast, but most visitors preferred the towns on the water.
The music switched from upbeat to slow and romantic. Couples moved closer or left the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two familiar faces and frowned. Gabe and Eloise had abandoned the group table in favor of the dance floor, pressing up close to each other.
Mark shook his head as he paid for the drinks. He hoped they knew what they were doing. The ties between the two families ran deep. A one-night stand could lead to hurt feelings and broken friendships. If not tomorrow, then when Gabe returned to his team. But maybe they’d found a way to avoid all that emotional crap and just have a good time. Hell, maybe he should ask for a road map.
5 (#u5abe06ba-fa42-5e5c-9572-64ea6c925028)
AMY STARED AT the dance floor. She should be out there. Dancing. Laughing. Flirting. It didn’t matter if half the men in the bar looked at her and thought, There goes Darren’s widow. That wasn’t how she saw herself. Not anymore. And it was time to do something about it. Before her body’s reaction to a pretend ankle exam ruined her relationship with one of her closest and oldest friends.
Mark had touched her in a crowded bar, and she’d been tempted to press her bare foot against his thigh. The moment had felt intimate and wild. But she suspected that was only partly due to the way his hands had moved over her skin—and partly due to their shared secret. She kept so many locked away that having a partner in this ruse sent misguided signals to parts of her body she’d ignored for a year and a half.
She stole a look at Mark, standing at the bar. He was like a guard dog, keeping watch over her as he waited for her wine. He offered so much more than a shared confidence, she realized. If she stumbled, Mark would catch her. Always. He was her safety net, her friend, and damn it, she couldn’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes when he’d seen her in her underwear. Hunger?
“Hey, Ames.” T.J. sat down in the chair next to hers, holding a beer bottle in one hand. “If you need crutches, I think we have some at the house from when Luke busted his knee. I could head back and pick them up for you.”
Amy smiled, patting his arm. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be back on my feet soon.”
“I can help with the dogs in the morning,” T.J. added.
“I’m going to take you up on that offer, but not because I’m injured,” she said, welcoming the distraction from her wayward thoughts of Mark. “I need your advice on how to introduce new scents to the puppies. I was thinking about using rags soaked in the different chemicals they will be expected to detect.”
“That’s a good plan,” T.J. said, leaning forward in his chair, wrapping both hands around his beer bottle. “The most important thing is to keep the materials free and clear of your scent. Wear rubber gloves when you’re handling the rags.”
Mark returned and handed her a wineglass. She sipped slowly, trying to take mental notes as T.J. talked. But with Mark sitting close by, her focus splintered. She drew a deep breath, inhaling his familiar masculine smell. Sandalwood, possibly from his aftershave. If she leaned closer, pressing her nose, maybe her lips, to his jaw, tracing the contours as she licked, kissed and breathed him in, then she’d know for certain.
Amy shifted in her chair, nodding to T.J., though she hadn’t heard what he’d said. Her imagination was spiraling out of control. A fake ankle exam didn’t lead to kisses. But there was something about the way he’d touched her—
“Mark!” The loud, shrill call silenced Amy’s internal monologue. She watched as Molly McAdams strutted across the bar, doing her best imitation of a runway walk in her high heels and fitted skirt.
“You’re home!” Molly added.
With the faintest hint of a smile, Mark rose from his chair, allowing Molly to wrap her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Hey there, Molly,” he said.
Molly drew back just enough to look up at Mark’s face as she swept her long, straight black hair over her shoulder with one hand. The fingers on her right hand held tight to Mark’s biceps.
Amy frowned. She had nothing against Molly. They’d never been friends, but Amy always said hello in the grocery store. Still, did Molly have to stand so close to Mark?
“How about a dance?” Molly flashed a wide smile.
“No, thanks.” He glanced down at her. “Promised I’d keep Amy company.”
Molly laughed. “I think T.J. is up for the task.”
“Maybe. But I’m still recovering from the long trip home and need to save my energy to help her out tomorrow.” Mark rocked back on his heels, trying to extricate himself from Molly’s arms.
“A rain check, then.” Molly arched slightly, offering Mark a peek down the front of her low-cut fitted tank. “Don’t be a stranger, Mark. I’m still living on the family farm. And you don’t have to worry about Daddy. We moved him to an assisted-living condo last year and took away his guns. He’s at the retirement community, where I’ve been working for the past few years as the programming director.”

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