Mixing Temptation (12 page)

 

Chapter 12

C
AROLINE FOCUSED ON
the changing scenery outside the window. They'd parted ways with the Pacific Ocean not long after they'd crossed over the Oregon-­California line. The trees loomed larger and more imposing as they headed closer to Eureka. Picturesque towns continued to dot the windy road, but she'd stopped noting the names.

I don't feel like Wonder Woman anymore.

She'd abandoned turned on hours ago, not long after Josh steered the car back onto the road. And she'd tossed empowered and sexy out the window after California's famous redwoods replaced the Douglas firs. The reality of what she was doing, driving closer and closer to a man who might be waiting to hurt her . . .

Logic—­and a detailed private investigator's report—­told her that Dustin had never tried to hunt her down after that one threatening visit to her sister's home. She doubted he'd let go of his anger. And she still woke up wishing he were in a jail cell instead of roaming free. But he hadn't contacted her sister or her again.

Still, I'm here. In California. On his turf. . .

If he saw her, he might come after her. But if he did, she'd kick his ass. She would put an end to this. She wasn't powerless. She was no longer under his command. And she didn't answer to him.

Of course a fight could land her in jail. And a run-­in with the local law enforcement would lead to a stint in a military prison for her. Not exactly her ideal location for a fourth date.

“We're getting close to the exit,” Josh said.

“Ready to stretch your legs?” she asked.

He'd been behind the wheel since they left the cottage this morning. She glanced at the dashboard clock.

Only two hours had slipped by? Anxiety was like a time warp, drawing out each minute, making the seconds feel like ticking time bombs.

“I thought this was just a drive-­by,” he said as he shifted into the right lane and veered off the scenic highway.

“You can stand beside the car and eat your doughnuts,” she murmured as the muscles in her shoulders formed tight knots. The memory of Josh's massage, the feel of his hands working to ease her body's determination to stand guard, her need to be ready to fight or flee . . . that memory flew away.

They drove in silence listening as the strange female voice from Josh's cell phone guided them through California suburbs.

“Arrived at your destination,” the phone announced.

“Thanks, Siri,” Josh muttered as he pulled into the parking lot beside a two-­story apartment building.

“He's in unit 1B. First floor.” After reading it over and over, searching for a clue, she'd memorized the investigator's report. She reached for the truck door. “Let's go take a look.”

“Hold up a minute.” Josh placed his hand on her arm. “I don't think this is a good idea. We can't just walk by the guy's home and peek in his windows.”

She leaned forward and withdrew a battered Seattle Seahawks baseball cap from her backpack. “I borrowed it from Noah's dad,” she explained as she pulled her ponytail through the back of the hat.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “We need to work on your superhero disguises.”

“Most ­people only see what they're expecting to see,” she said. “And I doubt Dustin's been looking over his shoulder, wondering if I'm waiting outside his window. As much as I wanted to, I never threatened his safety. And believe me, there were nights when we were deployed that I wanted sneak into his bunk and hold a knife to his . . .” She stole a glance at Josh. “Well, not his throat.”

“Caroline, I've wanted to threaten this asshole with the blade of a knife since I met you. And I'm being completely honest when I say that I've never had an interest in touching another man's junk.” He cocked his head. “What stopped you?”

She shrugged. “He was bigger and stronger. He'd overpowered me before and I knew he could do it again. Also, he'd trained in hand-­to-­hand combat and he slept in a room filled with men who would have taken his side.”

“I would have taken yours,” he said, leveling her with a hard, fierce look. “I am on your side. You know that, right?”

She nodded.

“I want to hurt this asshole. But I have a personal interest in keeping you out of jail,” he continued. “So I have to ask. Where's your gun, honey?”

“Locked in its case,” she said with a regretful sigh. “And tucked in my pack. I thought it would be too tempting.”

“Let's keep it there,” he said. “Now I'm ready for a walk by if you are.”

The steps bled together—­getting out of the truck, taking his hand, and walking up the sidewalk—­and she focused on the rush of adrenaline. She refused to acknowledge the fear. It had been the same when she'd driven a truck down a road potentially lined with IEDs in the Middle East. Focus on the rush of energy. Hone in on the mission.

They walked up the cement path leading to the front of the pale yellow building. Steps from the strangely pleasant looking structure, the path divided, leading to two separate ground level units. Stairs ran up both sides providing access to the second story.

A brown cardboard box stood in front of the door on the right. Caroline stopped and stared at it.

Just a box. Not a threat.

The door to the unit on the left swung open and she turned her attention to their destination—­unit 1B. But the young blonde in the doorway wasn't her target.

“Hi there,” the blonde called as she shifted a toddler clutching a stuffed penguin to her other hip. “If you're looking for Angela, she moved out last week. Her mom's ill so she picked up and went home to San Diego. But I'm forwarding her mail if you want me to tell her that you stopped by.”

“Hello,” Josh said, firing up his charm. He grinned at the woman in the doorway before turning his smile to the shy child in her arms. “I'm Brody.”

Oh really?
she thought.

“We're not looking for Angela. My girl and I were just passing through and wanted to look up an old friend,” he continued.

Or spy on him. . .

“Do you know Dustin?” he asked. “He lived in 1B—­your unit—­a while back.”

The blonde shook her head and shifted the child a second time. “Sorry, he must have moved on. I've been here six months and I know everyone.”

Josh wrapped his arm around Caroline and pulled her close. “I told you we should have called first, sweet pea,” he said in mock chastisement.

She nodded and turned to the nosy mother who hadn't offered her name. “Sorry to bother you. My silly idea to drop in on him. Back to the truck,
honey pie
.”

With Josh's arm still wrapped around her, she spun on the heel of her combat boot and headed for the truck. “You should stick with logging and baking,” she muttered. “Your acting skills need work.”

“Yeah, I've never been good at lying,” he said as he unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for her. “But at least we confirmed that he's moved on.”

She nodded as she climbed into the truck. The door closed and she took one last look at the sunshine-­yellow building.

Dustin wasn't there.

A fresh wave of fear hit her and threatened to draw her under. It was a like a current that could hold her down until her lungs begged for air. But she fought back drawing a sharp inhale.

Inhale, my ass. That was a sob.

And if she didn't get herself together, another would follow. Tears would flow. And once they started, she'd lose her last vestige of control. She'd melt into a weeping, wailing mess. She knew the way down that path. She'd followed it before, dissolving into a crying mess in the bathroom stall on a remote military base in Afghanistan while Noah waited outside determined to escort her safely back to her bunk.

She'd been prepared to fight on those nights too, but instead she'd run up against failure. Just like today. Her eyes filled with tears, but she fought to hold them back.

Don't cry!

She looked away from the house and fought to control her breathing. Dustin hadn't been here for six months. But if he wasn't here, where had he gone?

J
OSH WAS PRETTY
damn sure closure didn't lead to a stoic, teary-­eyed Marine sitting still as a freaking statue in his passenger seat. And if he didn't act soon, she would
really
begin to cry. He'd known her for over a year. He'd rushed to Caroline's aid after Josie was attacked in Noah's barn not long after she appeared in Forever. He'd removed a shaken Caroline from the scene when the police showed up. He'd witnessed wild panic in her green eyes but never anguish. And she sure as hell had never shed a tear in front of him before.

“Where to next?” he asked. “Do you have another address for him? Work? Maybe his ex-­wife?”

Action. She needed to focus on doing something. Looking forward, taking that next step—­it was the only way to fight back when life seemed hell-­bent on pressing the ‘overwhelmed' switch. Hadn't he learned that the hard way, moving from one damn game to the next hoping he'd be able to reclaim his memory? In the end, he'd recalled only the feelings, the frustration, but never the events or games. Some nights he'd been close to tears too.

Caroline nodded and reached for her pack. Withdrawing a manila folder with worn edges, she flipped through the pages. “His ex-­wife lives nearby. That's the only other address in here.”

“Work?”

She shook her head and drew her lower lip between her teeth. For a second, he thought she'd start crying in earnest.

“No,” she said finally. “When Noah hired the investigator, Dustin wasn't working. He probably thought he could get the decision reversed and the Marines would take him back.”

“Doesn't hurt to swing by his ex-­wife's place.” He turned the key, put the truck in gear, and steered onto the two-­lane road. “Enter the address into my phone and see if there's a drive-­thru along the way.”

Thirty minutes later, with a bag full of double-­bacon cheeseburgers and fries between them, he parked across the street and two doors down from a split-­level ranch. An American flag hung beside the front door. Flower beds separated the neatly mowed front lawn from the house. And a man stood in the center of the trimmed grass holding a baseball.

He was a big guy, with a build that suggested he could have played football if he lost the beer belly. A boy of eight or maybe nine waited on the far side with his glove.

“Mom's going to be mad that you let me play catch when I'm sick,” the child called out.

“Looks like you're feeling better now,” the man said with a laugh. “And the fresh air is good for you. Ask any doctor.”

“Oh my God.” The faint whisper filled the cab of the truck tearing Josh's focus from the all-­American family scene outside.

“Caroline?”

“That's him,” she murmured. “That's Dustin. And he's . . . he's playing ball. After everything . . .”

A familiar rage pulsed through him. If he let go, he'd climb out of the truck and attack that bastard. He'd—­

“He went back to his family. His wife and kids. He went back as if . . . as if nothing happened,” she murmured.

“Why don't I go and talk to him?” Josh said.
And we'll have another date after you bail me out of jail.

He knew she couldn't walk into a police station. But spending a night or two behind bars before his brothers came for him seemed a small price to pay.

“No,” she said firmly. “Just drive.
Please
.”

And this time it wasn't a command masquerading as a plea. She was close to begging. With one last look at the bastard who'd stripped away her security, who'd made her feel like she needed to be fucking less—­less beautiful, less bold, less brave—­he turned the key and revved the engine.

Dustin looked over, his brow furrowed in fucking concern as Josh peeled out of the parking space.

About time you worried about something,
Josh thought.

The bastard couldn't see them. Not with the midday sun high in the sky and the dark tint on Josh's truck windows. Logic told him that was a damn good thing. He didn't want her former CO coming after them. But the other part of him wanted to send a message to Dustin.

She hasn't forgotten, asshole.

And now she had a whole team, or whatever the hell they called it in the Marines, on her side. She had him. She had Noah, Josie, and the rest of the staff at Big Buck's. And she had his brothers and his sister on her side. Even if they didn't know her full story, they'd fight for her. She was family. She was
his
, dammit. Not to possess, but to love and protect with everything he had.

“Where do you want to go?” he said as they turned the corner and the all-­American rapist disappeared from sight. He wanted to get her away from here and find a place where he could take care of her.

“The beach,” she murmured. “Take me back to the ocean.”

“As you wish, Caroline.” He headed for the highway, determined to put a few miles between them and the man who'd managed to do what Caroline couldn't—­move forward.

 

Chapter 13

C
AROLINE BURIED HER
toes in the sand. Then she waited for a wave to rush up and sweep the fine white grains back to sea. But the tide had already receded and her feet remained buried. Still, the chill from the rushing waves ran upward from her feet to her calves. She'd rolled up her cargo pants and removed her boots. She'd needed to feel something other than shock and sadness.

If I stay here long enough I'll freeze and break into pieces,
she thought.
But at least then I won't have to run anymore. To live in hiding while he plays ball with his kids.

Seeing Dustin hadn't delivered a neatly wrapped box full of closure. She'd been naïve to believe driving down here would lock her past away where it belonged. And she knew that she couldn't stop running unless she turned herself in to the military.

Five hours sitting on the beach, watching the waves and noting the tide, delivered a hefty dose of clarity along with the chill.

And Josh.

He'd offered a strong, determined presence seemingly at odds with his charming smile. Along with the burger he'd set on her lap and told her to eat, he'd secured rooms for them at an oceanfront motel. It wasn't the Oregon cottage, but seeing as she'd spent most of the day sitting on the motel's beach, it felt like the right choice.

So had leaving the Marines, the branch of the military that she'd wanted to join since she was a kid. And standing up in military court and telling the truth about her CO. All good, solid choices.

Yet she was the one who'd spent the past year hiding and constantly looking over her shoulder. She'd been terrified to live her life.

But not Dustin. He'd picked up the pieces and moved on.

The injustice turned her stomach. And for a moment, she felt as if she would throw up the burger.

“Are you cold?” Josh settled in the sand next to her and held out a Moore Timber sweatshirt.

“Yes,” she said, taking the extra layer and pulling it over her plain black T-­shirt.

“I'm guessing that wasn't what you were expecting to find,” he said.

She turned away from the water and looked at him. He still wore the same jeans and long-­sleeve flannel shirt. But he'd traded his boots for a pair of flip-­flops.

“No,” she said slowly. “I had this picture in my head that he would be sitting in his rented apartment alone. Maybe drinking a beer in the middle of the morning.”

“I'm guessing he didn't have the beer gut when he served,” Josh said.

She shook her head. “Yeah, that's something. But I still can't believe his wife took him back.”

“You don't know that full story. I've been thinking about this since we left. A sick kid, home from school while the mom needs to work. Maybe she called and demanded that he come over.”

“Maybe,” she said. But Dustin had appeared at ease, at home on the picture-­perfect lawn.

Josh looked down at his feet. “You know how I told you my mom left when I was a kid?”

She nodded.

“It happened just like that,” he said. “One day she just walked out the door. My father was back from flying choppers for the army and I don't know, but I guess she decided she'd had enough of taking care of four kids on next to nothing.

“I'll never know why she left.” He looked up and met her gaze. “Once or twice I thought about trying to find her. I wondered if hearing her side of the story would bring, I don't know—­”

“Closure,” she supplied.

“Yeah. And look, I know it's not the same. Dustin attacked you. What he did . . .”

Josh pressed his lips together and a ripple of tension moved down his arms. The muscles in his forearms looked ready to jump into action.

“It makes me want to hit something too,” she said. “But you're right. Looking back won't help me get my life back on track. If he had been sitting around drunk and feeling sorry for himself in the middle of the morning, that wouldn't have erased the past.”

“Nothing will,” he said. “But that doesn't mean you can't look ahead and try to rebuild your life.”

“And if I can't?” she whispered, hating the hollow sound of fear in her soft words.

He reached over and took her hand. “I wonder that same thing all the time. I survived a week in a coma and lived. I lost my memory and got it back. Life gave me another shot. What if it amounts to nothing? What if I waste it?”

“You have a plan,” she pointed out. “The big house on a nice piece of land.”

“I do. And it's a good one.” He reached over and took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “But if I had to choose between eating cold fries out here on the beach with you and the vision of domestic bliss I've mapped out in my imagination, I'd stay right here.”

“Josh,” she murmured.

He offered her a smile. “I'd rather have another date with you.”

I believe you and your cocky, too-­charming grin. I'm halfway in love with it. . .

If she let herself walk into the future and claim Josh Summers, she just might fall for him completely.

But loving Josh didn't cancel out her past. And it wouldn't change the fact that she was still being hunted. Not by Dustin. No, today had made that crystal clear. Dustin wasn't biding his time until he could seek his revenge.

She was being hounded by her own choices—­to run, to hide, and to live in fear of taking another shot at a life. It was time to make better decisions. And it was time to listen to her heart instead of giving her fear free rein.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “This doesn't have to be date. We could swap foot rubs on the beach instead of back massages and then go to our separate rooms.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked. If she pushed past her reservations, if she listened to her desire, she wanted a fourth date. But maybe today—­and seeing the man who'd raped her—­had shaken him. What had happened in Afghanistan had always been very real to her. Maybe today had shifted her past from a word or concept into a tangible thing for him too. “You would rather have me rub your feet instead of—­”

“No,” he said firmly. But he pulled his hand free from hers. He ran his fingers through his red curls. “That's not it, Caroline. There isn't a part of my body that I don't want you to touch.”

She leaned back and rested her palms on the sand. “If you think I won't take you up on that offer,” she said in a no-­nonsense tone, “then I'm afraid I'm going to insist on another date.”

His smile faded, but he kept his gaze fixed on her, his expression open and sincere. “Caroline, I need you to go to bed with me because you want
me
. If tonight, after our adventure today, you're looking for a way to move on, then we'll wait.”

Relief rushed in. She tipped her chin to her chest and grinned. Josh held tight to what he needed. No guessing. No games. Now it was her turn.

“When I was touching you last night, the feel of your shoulder blades turned me on.” She looked up at him. “You sat in a hospital for month, yet now every inch of you is perfect. And don't tell me it's from baking.”

“I spend most days holding a chainsaw, not a spatula,” he pointed out, a hint of his smile returning.

“I felt the strength in your muscles and I wasn't afraid you would overpower me—­”

“Never,” he said firmly.

“I know.” She sat up, pulling her hands free from the sand. And she reached for him. Her fingers brushed the coarse stubble on his cheeks. He hadn't bothered to shave this morning. Now he looked a little rough and so sexy she wondered for a moment why he'd stayed. He'd waited a long time for her. And he was willing to keep their relationship out of the bedroom a while longer.

She searched for the right words. “You feel good. All of you. Your shoulders, your lower back, your kisses . . .” She leaned close and pressed her lips to his. Fighting the urge to linger and explore, she drew back. “And your company. You feel right and good. And I'm not saying this to seduce you—­”

“Just to boost my ego?” he said.

“Just take me at my word,” she murmured. “You feel like an impending orgasm.”

C
AROLINE HAD NEVER
lied to him. Not even that first night when he'd found her camped out. Sure, she'd withheld details. But that just proved she wasn't stupid. No one shared their life story, their personal tragedies, or even their last name, with a stranger they met in the woods.

So if she said touching him, hell, even sharing the same section of beach with him, pushed her close to the big O, he believed her.

“Are you ready?” He reached for her. Placing his hands on her hips, he drew her closer. And she came willingly, shifting to her side and then climbing onto his lap. Her legs straddled his and her knees pressed into the sand straddling his thighs.

“For hours of naughty foreplay
after
our dinner date?” she asked, running her hands over his supposedly orgasm-­worthy shoulders.

He laughed. And after the wound-­up, fucked-­up day they'd shared, it felt good. “You're hungry again?” He ran his hand up her thighs and pictured stripping off her cargo pants. He wanted to feel her bare skin. “I brought you a lukewarm burger.”

“Hours ago. Plus, this is a date.”

“Hmm.” His fingers roamed over her hips, shifting higher and higher. He pressed the heel of his hand against her lower back and drew her closer. “I meant are you ready for those dirty words I promised you? I vote we skip dinner and kick off the foreplay with another showing of your underwear.”

She arched beneath his touch and then rocked her hips forward. Even though she'd given him one helluva green light, he didn't thrust up to meet her. He let her set the motion, moving over his erection as if she also wished their clothes would magically disappear.

“Are you sure we shouldn't wait?” she asked. “We could go back to the room and order room ser­vice. My treat. Talk some more . . .”

“If you keep moving like that, I won't make it until we get back to the room.” His lips hovered over her neck. He punctuated the statement with a kiss to the soft skin just above her shoulder.

She leaned back and her hips stilled. And his dick throbbed, demanding that he voice an objection. But her gaze was fixed on a point over his shoulder.

“I'm not sure this place offers room ser­vice,” she said.

“We'll order pizza. Later.” He wrapped his left arm around her. His right hand pressed into the sand seeking leverage. “Now, hold on tight.”

He pushed off the beach, but managed to keep her strong, petite body wrapped around his. Her thighs pressed tight against his sides.

So damn strong,
he thought. She could hold on to him without his help, but he palmed her butt anyway, carrying her toward the motel with one firm cheek resting in each hand.

He saw an older ­couple, probably twenty years their senior, ahead of them on the path. He strode past them and offered a friendly greeting. And Caroline buried her face against his neck.

“Hiding?” he asked once they were out of earshot.

“Something like that.” She ran her tongue down the V-­neckline of his button-­down shirt. “Or maybe I just wanted a taste,” she added, her lips moving against his skin as she spoke.

“It's a damn good thing our rooms are on the first floor with an ocean view,” he growled.

He reached the door and reluctantly lowered her to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the pavement, he missed the warmth of her body against his.

“So here's the thing,” he said, withdrawing the room key, an old-­fashioned actual key on a ring, from his pocket. “I think we need to work our way up to pizza. Get good and hungry first.”

“A date in reverse? Start in bed and go backward?”

“Yeah, and later we can blame my memory. I still struggle with sequences,” he said. “Sometimes I add the baking soda before the eggs. But don't worry, I never forget to preheat the oven.”

“I don't know.” She looked up at him. “It could take up to thirty minutes for delivery . . . but if you think you'll need more time.”

I don't think I'll last five minutes,
he thought.

But he nodded. When they got inside, he would take a step back and remind himself to slow the hell down. The key turned and the locked clicked. He pushed the door open and held it for her.

As soon as it clicked shut behind them, she disappeared behind him. “Caroline?”

“Don't mind me,” she murmured. He could feel her breath on his neck. “I'm just going to help you out of your shirt. And while I work your buttons . . .” She released the third one, extending the V of his neckline to the middle of his chest. He'd forgotten to pack an undershirt, but he'd tossed in a box of condoms just in case.

“You can tell me all of the naughty things you want to do to me after I get you out of these clothes. How you like to be touched—­” She'd released another two buttons and paused to slide her hands inside his open shirt, running her hands over his lower ribs. “Where you want my mouth . . .”

Her fingers moved to the top of his jeans and he groaned. But he caught hold of her wrists before she lowered his zipper and reached inside. “Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions?” she asked.

She pulled away and he instantly released her.

“Sorry,” he said. Shit, he didn't want to apologize for wanting to give her what she'd asked for. He had to do this right. “But I don't want to frighten you. I need to know how to touch you, what you like—­”

“Josh.” She moved around to stand in front of him again. But she didn't reach for him. “Do I look scared?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I meant I don't want to do something that would trigger a reaction.”