“Please, ma’am. I insist.”
* * *
CATE EYED THE muscled marine kneeling by the front tire of her ancient minibus and felt a ripple of unease. He attacked the rusted lug nuts, and she tried not to be distracted by the fact that the muscles in his forearms rippled when he loosened the nuts with hardly any effort. He glanced up and met her gaze, showing even white teeth, his brown eyes warm.
Bet he gets any girl he wants, she thought, feeling her own abdomen grow warm as she watched him wrench the old tire free, his biceps engaging as he lifted it up. Sexy ex-marine probably never gets told no. She felt a pull suddenly, a flush of desire run through her. How long had it been since she’d even had sex?
Normally, she was able to push those feelings aside, but watching the marine work made her mind go to places she thought she’d long since forgotten.
Relationships were too risky. One-night stands are fine. Anything more and you’re just asking for trouble, Cate.
But Cate wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. Of course, after Rick Allen, she wasn’t sure forever love even existed. And, now, I can’t try for it, either. It’s too much of a risk.
She knew she’d be giving up things when she took her boy and ran. She’d gladly sacrifice forever love if it meant her boy would be safe. If it meant Rick Allen could never hurt him—or her—again. Being alone was better than being hurt. Better than being...controlled, imprisoned in her own house.
You’re mine, he’d said the night she left. You belong to me. You’ll never get away.
That had been more than three years ago. I did get away, Rick. I did. And I’m never going back.
She focused on Tack’s lean back, the muscles of his broad shoulders taut against the thin fabric of his shirt as he slipped the spare tire on the minibus. The loud whoosh of cars passing at speeds faster than they should whirred in her ears, yet she paid them no heed. Her whole focus was on Tack.
Something about this man made her feel distinctly off balance, and it wasn’t the fact that he had the body of a Greek god, either. He was tan, far too tan to be a mainlander who’d only just come to St. Anthony’s for a little getaway. As he turned his attention back to the tire, she saw the strip of red on his neck—a fresh sunburn. That’s not the kind of tan anybody gets in Seattle in February, she reasoned.
Could he be working for Rick?
As soon as the panic rose in in her throat, she swallowed it. Don’t be paranoid. Guilty people do that. Guilty people get jumpy, and jumpy people get caught. And you’re just being paranoid.
Of course he’s not working for Rick. Rick doesn’t know where you are. You’re fine.
For a bright second, she was back in her husband’s house, standing at the top of the stairs, clutching her baby boy. She’d never forget the sight of Rick’s body, lying motionless at the bottom of the marble landing, the fear and horror in her throat suffocating her. He’d been so terribly still, lying in that unnatural way, his leg bent at the wrong angle.
She felt her heart speed up, the blood thrumming through her veins, the panic of that night fresh in her mind. She had to will herself to calm down. She wasn’t there. She’d never be there again. Not if I can help it.
He glanced up at her, squinting against the sun, and flashed another smile. She forced herself to relax.
“So you live in Seattle. I love that city,” she said, trying not to sound like she was probing his backstory, which she was. “I went there once, after college. My roommate’s house overlooked the Sound. Was gorgeous. Where do you live?”
“A neighborhood called Wallingford,” he said, without so much as a hitch. “I’ve got a condo that looks out over Woodland Park. Ever been there?”
“No, I don’t think so. It was a long time since I went.” She bit her lip. So he passed the first test. He’s just a tourist, like any other tourist. Don’t go looking for trouble where there’s none. He tightened the lug nuts on the new tire, a small bead of sweat visible on his smooth forehead. He lowered the bus on the jack and popped up, swiping his hands free of dirt.
“That ought to get us there,” he said, and straightened. He was so damn tall. And those muscles. He took a step closer to her and without thinking, Cate backed up. He was too big, too...muscled... Too damn attractive. She felt his gravitational pull and the only way to break the spell was to somehow get out of his orbit. She took another step backward and a flash of alarm lit his face as he looked over her shoulder.
Before Cate knew it, he’d grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the side of the minibus. Before she could even squeak, an oversize white delivery truck rumbled past. Too big for any one lane, its white cab would’ve knocked Cate flat if it weren’t for Tack.
She could feel him breathing as hard as she was, his fit, muscled stomach against her, her face nearly eye to eye with his chest. She could smell him—sweat and salt and the hint of some fresh scent, like laundry drying on the line. Cate ought to have been thinking about how she’d almost been killed by a truck, but instead, all she could think about was Tack’s hard body against hers, how every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive. It felt like her body had been sleeping, and now, suddenly, every cell was awake, and they all wanted one thing. All she wanted to do was to press herself closer to him, to wrap her arms around his back and feel his sturdiness. She could feel his chest rise and fall and wondered if he felt it, too, this electric rush, this sudden, powerful want.
As she glanced up at his face, she saw his brown eyes studying hers, his eyebrows crinkled with worry.
“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his body against hers, his bulk still protecting her from the rush of traffic behind him.
Considering all she wanted to do right at that moment was stand on her tiptoes and see if she could taste his lips, she already knew the answer to that question. I might never be okay again.
TACK WAS ALL too aware of Cate’s body against his, warm and pliant. The way she was looking at him right now made him want to kiss the life out of her, to make her moan with want. Nothing like a life-or-death situation to speed up the libido, he thought, but then wondered if saving her from a speeding truck had anything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to take his hands off her.
Her green eyes studied him, her pink lips parted as he waited for an answer.
“I...I’m fine,” she managed to say, but never broke eye contact. He’d always been able to read women, a talent he’d learned early when overnight in high school he’d grown a foot and put on thirty pounds of muscle. They’d gone from ignoring him to waiting at his locker, giggling and blushing all the while.
He could swear the way she craned her neck, the way she leaned into him, she wanted him. The thought sent a thrill down his spine. She wanted him. He had her pinned against the minibus, but she made no move to flee. Her eyes told him she wanted to stay right where she was.
The deep-seated satisfaction this little revelation brought him surprised even him. He wanted her to want him. He’d felt the desire to put his hands on her since he saw her waiting for him at the baggage claim.
He felt drawn closer to her and before he knew it, he was just inches away from her lips. All he’d have to do was drop down a little more...and he’d be kissing her. He wondered what she tasted like. He wanted to find out.
But he couldn’t. Not now.
With great reluctance, he pulled himself away. He saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. There was no doubt in Tack’s mind.
And then, another, not-so-nice thought popped into his mind. I could use that.
He wasn’t proud of himself