Redeeming The Billionaire Seal

She couldn’t think of a better place for something she’d waited a lifetime to do. Moving closer to him, her focus dropped to his mouth.

“Holly.” He shook his head.

“What?”

“This is not a good idea.” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But her focus remained on his lips, which had haunted her for over a decade, now a mere breath away.

“Yeah. You do.” But despite his hesitation, he reached up and smoothed some strands of her hair back from her face. He caught her hair in his fist and gently pulled her toward him. His mouth touched hers, gently, tentatively … But then he drew back, making her heart cry out. He watched her, carefully, intently.

“It’s just a kiss,” she whispered. She could hear the pleading in her own voice.

“We both know it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”

* * *

Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL is part of Mills & Boon Desire’s No 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men … wrapped around their babies’ little fingers

Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL

Lauren Canan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAUREN CANAN has always been in love with love. When she began writing, stories of romance and unbridled passion flowed through her fingers onto the page. Today she is a multi-award-winning author, including the prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award. She lives in Texas with her own real-life hero, four dogs and a mouthy parrot named Bird.

She loves to hear from readers. Find her on Facebook or go to her website, www.laurencanan.com.

This book is dedicated to Laurel Hamrick for the endless support and the many hours she gave so willingly. And to Kathleen for her patience and determination to make this story the best it can be. And to my closest friends (you know who you are!) who provided so much support when it was needed the most.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

Watching a newborn foal rise to its feet for the first time was a sight Holly Anderson would never tire of seeing. With a few staggered steps and some encouragement from its mother, the foal located its dinner bucket and didn’t have to be shown how to latch on to her first meal. The fluffy little tail flipped and turned as the warm nourishment filled her tummy.

“I thought we were going to lose this one,” said Don Jefferies, owner of the mare that had just given birth with considerable help from Holly. “I’ve been raising quarter horses most of my life and I guess I’ve been lucky. I’ve never had to deal with a breech birth.”

“They don’t happen that often,” Holly agreed. “Thank goodness.”

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you, Doc.”

“Glad I could help.” Holly took one last glimpse at the foal before stepping out into the hallway as Don closed the stall door behind her. She began gathering her implements, then walked to the truck and dumped them into a white bucket filled with a special cleaning solution. “I should come back out and check them both in two or three days. I’ll need someone here to contain Mother. She’s probably not going to like having her baby kidnapped for a few minutes.”

“No worries. I’ll call your office tomorrow, schedule a time and make sure someone is around to help if I can’t be here myself.”

With a final handshake, Holly tossed the last of her gear in the holding compartment in the back of her truck, climbed in behind the wheel and headed back to the clinic. The sun had set and twilight was quickly folding into night.

She’d finished scouring the equipment and was rinsing her hands when the little bell over the front door chimed. Someone had entered the building. She must have forgotten to put up the closed sign again. It had been a twelve-hour day with an emergency wake-up call at seven thirty this morning, and her body was screaming for a long hot soak in the old claw-foot tub.

Drying her hands on a paper towel, she made her way through the back of the clinic, rounded the corner and stopped at the edge of the front counter. She had already turned off the overhead lights but the glow from the lab area provided some illumination. Two men stood just inside the door of the small waiting room. She immediately recognized Cole Masters, one of the three owners of the ninety-two-thousand-acre beef operation across the road. She’d grown up with the three Masters sons; her aunt’s small house, where she lived now, was just across the road from their mansion on the hill. Although they were several years older, that hadn’t stopped any of them from forming a lifelong bond of friendship that was more like extended family.

As to the identity of the man who stood next to Cole, she had no clue. He must be a business associate out for the weekend. Cole and his brother Wade randomly brought people to the Circle M for a leisurely weekend in the country with horseback rides and cookouts over a campfire—by an accredited chef. Why anyone would need a professional chef to cook a hot dog over a grill was beyond her realm of understanding. To each his own, she supposed.

She didn’t sense any type of tension indicating an emergency. Cole just stood there with a stupid grin on his face. It was late. She was tired. And she needed to get home to the baby so Amanda, her friend and temporary babysitter, could go home. Whatever he was up to, she needed him to pull the prank and be done with it.

“Hey, Cole,” she said. He nodded. “Did you forget your way home again?”

“Ha. Ha.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to pick up the antibiotics for the sorrel mare that cut her foot. Caleb intended to get them but something else came up. I told him I would stop by if you were still open.”

“Right. I’d forgotten. They’re in the fridge. Be right back.”

She slipped into the main room of the clinic, grabbed the drugs out of the refrigerator along with a few syringes, dropped them all in a plastic ziplock and returned to the front. “Here you go. Caleb knows what to do but if he has any questions, tell him to call.”

“Sure thing.”

Cole stood in the same place, making no effort to move.

“Was there something else?”

Cole glanced over to the other man next to him, then back to Holly.

Holly bent slightly forward and held out her hands, palms up, a silent way of asking, What do you want? “It’s a little late for charades. I’m sorry, but I’ve had a really long day. How about you skip the theatrics and just tell me what you need?” She glanced at the other man. “I apologize. He gets this way sometimes.”

The man shrugged, pursing his lips as though finding the situation funny. Cole’s grin grew wider. “Ah, man...this is too good,” Cole muttered to his friend. “We should have brought Wade.”

Holly didn’t know what to make of that statement. What was too good?

“Okay.” She patted the counter. “You both have a good evening. If you don’t mind, lock the door on your way out.” She turned to leave, headed for the rear entrance and made it all of three steps.

“Why do you have to leave so soon, Muppet?”

Holly froze. Her heart did a tiny dance in her chest. That voice, deep and raspy. That name. Only one person called her Muppet. But it couldn’t be. Could it? Holly turned as the big man with wide shoulders walked toward her, removing the Western hat that had been pulled low over his eyes. In one blinding flash the past twelve years vanished and she was looking into the eyes of her best friend.

She should have known him even if she hadn’t seen his face. It was the way he moved, silently, with the grace of a cougar. It was how he held himself, feet apart, broad shoulders back, big hands at his side, ready to handle any potential threat that came his way by any means necessary.

He had a ruggedly handsome face, with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw that stood out despite a five-o’clock shadow. His hair was the same dark saddle-brown color as his brothers’ but instead of a suave businessman’s cut, it was shaggy, disheveled—which capped off his devilish, sexy looks. His appearance had once driven most of the county’s female population crazy. The Roman nose would have given him the distinction of royalty had it not been broken due to his preference of football in his youth and no doubt some hard-fought battles on enemy lines. The cleft in his chin completed the image.

Holly knew those full lips were punctuated by dimples on either side and hid strong white teeth. It was the kind of smile you waited for. Hoped for. And when it finally came it was more than worth the wait. But it was the crystal blue of his eyes that conveyed the true power of his persona. It was as though they were lit from inside. His gaze could be as daunting as a thief at your window on a moonless night, as hypnotizing as a cobra, as erotic as two lovers in the throes of passion or, like now, it could sparkle with humor. She’d once wondered if he even noticed the second glances from people he passed on the street. Or was he so accustomed to people taking another look that he no longer paid any attention?

He was dressed in desert fatigues and a light brown T-shirt, which showed the chiseled muscles of his arms and chest to full effect. There was a black-banded watch that had more dials than an Apollo spacecraft on his tanned wrist.

In front of her stood a warrior. A US Navy SEAL.

Chance Masters had come home.

“Chance,” she whispered. She reached her hand out to him, needing to prove to herself he was really here. He caught her smaller hand in his, placed it firmly against his chest and held it there. She felt his heartbeat, steady and sure, beneath the thin material of his shirt.

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to prevent them from falling while she scrambled to gain control of her emotions. He’d been her best friend, her first crush and her first heartbreak when he’d left for the navy. The entire community had felt his absence. Some, mostly the women, had been saddened by the void his leaving created, while others, primarily the parents, had breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone. But his leaving had affected everyone in one way or another for three counties around. Her older brother had once told her he wished he had a nickel for every woman Chance turned down.

She stepped into his arms, her hands encircling his lean body while he held her close and let her cry. Hot, raw vitality surrounded her, causing her senses to ignite in a fire that swept through her. After a few moments, she stepped back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She sniffed and with a quick movement tossed the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid away from her face, determined to regain some measure of control. She pulled in one shaky cleansing breath, placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin with purpose. “Commander? It’s about damn time you came home.”

That earned her a smile. He looked down, shaking his head.

“I was about to say you’ve changed, Muppet. But maybe not,” he said teasingly, his voice deeper than she remembered. “But no braces. No pigtails. And you seem a bit taller.”

Holly smiled. “You think?”

She’d been barely twelve when he’d joined the military immediately after graduating high school, so yeah, in twelve years there had been changes. But all the change wasn’t on her side. She was intensely aware of the pure animal magnetism oozing from every pore in his body; he was an alpha male in every sense of the phrase. A jolt of awareness shot through her veins, pooling in her belly, making the temperature of the room rise fifteen degrees. At least.

Gone was the swaggering teenager with an easy smile and a reputation for knowing where to find trouble, the cocky guy who was too smart for his own good. He’d been replaced by a man who had seen the world through different eyes, used his above-average intelligence for things that mattered and trained to hold his emotions carefully in check. It was all there in his face. He oozed self-confidence; his nearness and the underlying power of his physique made her intensely aware of his utter masculinity.

Easily six foot four of hard muscle, he was more dangerous than she would ever have guessed a dozen years ago. She could see small glimpses of the old Chance beneath the hard exterior but it was as though the Chance of yesterday had faded away, leaving only minute traces behind. He’d finally made peace with whatever demons had been haunting him all those years ago, making him everyone’s number one nightmare. But she could tell the impatience and restless energy were gone, held tightly in check by the powerful man he had become.

“I’m so sorry about your dad.” Her glance swung to Cole, including him in that statement.

“Thanks,” Cole replied.

Her eyes returned to Chance. “He was so proud of you. We all are.”

Chance nodded, for the most part letting the comment slide. Holly remembered there had been rumors of discord between Chance and his dad. She hadn’t known Mr. Masters very well. He was rarely at the ranch. She remembered her brother once confiding that according to Chance, the man wasn’t proud of anything money couldn’t buy, except more money, adding he hoped when his old man died he could manage to take some of it with him because he’d never cared about anything else.

Holly stood next to Cole as Chance walked around the clinic noting the instruments, X-ray machines and microscopes. Two additional rooms were fully set up to conduct a surgical operation, and there was a separate smaller space for patients recovering from surgery. The kennel area for boarding was at the end of the hall, clearly marked by a sign on the closed door. “This is nice, Holly,” he said, glancing around. “Calico Springs has needed a vet for a long time. You always said you were going to get your license and build a clinic. You’re the one who should be proud.”

“I had a lot of help. Kevin Grady is co-owner. I couldn’t have pulled this off without him. He is a licensed vet who has wanted his own clinic for years. It worked out that I had the building, and in exchange for the use of, I could work under his supervision for my last two years of clinical instruction—the hands-on experience diagnosing and treating. And your brothers helped a lot with a loan for the equipment. But yeah, I’m glad it worked out. The hours are long, the work is hard at times, but it’s fulfilling.”

His eyes found hers. “I couldn’t have said it better.” A silent understanding passed between them. Chance felt the same way about the life he’d chosen.

His expression turned serious. “I’m sorry about Jason,” he said, referring to Holly’s older brother, who’d been killed in Iraq. “He was a great guy.”

She nodded and glanced down, suddenly uncomfortable. “There are some days I forget he’s gone. I’ll pick up the phone to call him then realize...he isn’t there.”

Chance and Jason had been best friends since fourth grade when Chance’s mother had finally won the battle for her sons to grow up in a normal environment, pulled them out of boarding school and enrolled them in the local public school. The two had hit it off immediately and remained best friends until the day Jason died. Holly imagined when Chance received the news that Jason had been killed it had been hard for him to take. Chance was closer to Jason than his own brothers.

“Listen, you’re tired. I’ll be here a while. We’re gonna head out but I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Chance nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And you...” Holly pointed at Cole. “You are so mean for not telling me Chance was home.” She scooted over to give him a sisterly hug. “But I guess we love you anyway.”

He just chuckled. With one last look at Holly, Chance followed Cole out the door.

Rather than drive, Holly took the footpath that extended from the clinic through the trees, over an old wooden footbridge that spanned Otter Creek and on a few yards farther to her small house. Chance is really home. He’d made it through how many deployments? She could only imagine. And he looked good. Better than good. It had been so many years. What had he done all that time? Fight wars? Dodge bullets? Probably accomplished feats that even if he could talk about them, she wouldn’t fully comprehend. Things she was no doubt better off not knowing.

She picked up her pace. Amanda Stiller, her good friend for many years and her temporary babysitter, might be anxious to go to her own home unless she’d become engrossed in something on television. At fourteen months, baby Emma could be a handful, and Holly was anxious to relieve Amanda.

But Amanda was a TV junkie and Holly had a satellite dish with some three hundred channels to keep Amanda occupied, so it was a good arrangement. Amanda often preferred to crash on her sofa instead of making the drive into town, especially now that she was in between jobs. She was an RN specializing in surgical care, and the local hospital had been forced to lay off half of its medical staff, but assurances had been given they would be recalled as soon as budget demands were met. Amanda saw it as an opportunity to catch up on her second job: being a couch potato.

Holly stepped through the back door and heard the sound of one of Amanda’s favorite shows. The background music foretold something bad was about to happen. Seconds later there was a gunshot. A woman screamed and another began to sob. This was Friday night. So that meant Amanda was watching You Can’t Hide. Good grief.

“Who died?” Holly asked as she dropped her bag into a chair.

“That old witch, Ms. Latham. She got shot.”

“Again? Are you sure it isn’t a rerun?”

“It’s not.”

“I wonder who did it this time.” Holly tried to contain the sarcasm. The fictional character had been shot, stabbed, choked and drowned more times than Holly could count and she didn’t regularly watch the show. Amanda and half the town were more than willing to bring her up to speed on who had done what, then ask if she had a guess who was behind it.

“I’m betting John because he wants to marry her daughter and the old biddy had it out for him. I mean, whoever pulled the trigger, she had it coming. She was up to something. I could tell. If somebody didn’t shoot her, she’d have really hurt John sooner or later.”

Holly clamped her mouth shut and headed for the kitchen. Amanda got so caught up in her soaps that she talked about the characters as though she’d just watched the evening news. Dear old Ms. Latham would be back in one form or another. Just today, the owner of one of Holly’s patients had remarked that the actress who played the crotchety old biddy had signed a contract for another year. But Holly wouldn’t spoil it for Amanda.

“Are you staying over?”

“Yeah. This sofa is way softer than my bed at home. And I still don’t have cable or satellite. All I can get is the local news and weather, and nothing exciting ever happens around here.”

“You do know there are stores that are only too happy to sign you up for three hundred plus channels?”

Amanda shrugged. “I’d rather be out here with you guys than sitting in that apartment alone. David won’t be back for another month. Oh. Almost forgot. I promised Emma we would go see the kites tomorrow.”

“Out at the lake?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d forgotten it was this weekend. That should be fun. She’ll enjoy it. It’s my Saturday to work but it’s only half a day.” Holly looked over the counter into the den. “Amanda, you don’t have to go to the park. You do so much for us anyway.”

“Please. I want to or I wouldn’t do it.”

“Thank you. I’ll close the clinic and get out there as soon as I can.”

The commercial ended and Amanda turned back to her program. Holly made herself a pimento-and-cheese sandwich before heading for the baby’s room, eating as she went. Emma was asleep on her back, her little arms splayed out on either side of her head. The silver-blond curls surrounded her face like a halo. She bent over the bed and placed a kiss on the small forehead.

Regret again filled her heart that Emma would never know her mother or father. Jason would have made a terrific dad. She hoped the pictures she had of her brother and the few she’d obtained of his wife would help Emma relate to them when she was older.

Every minute she was forced to leave the baby in someone’s care, guilt hit hard and heavy. Often on the days she worked in the clinic, Emma stayed with her, either behind the counter or in the small office just off the lab, in her playpen. But on those days of ranch calls, like today, even knowing Amanda was taking care of her didn’t help reduce Holly’s self-reproach.

Jason, her brother, had been killed two years ago in Iraq when an underground IED exploded, taking out his patrol vehicle and everyone on board. His death had brought on their father’s fatal heart attack. Four months later Jason’s wife died giving birth to Emma, making the baby an orphan before she ever opened her eyes. Now all they had was each other. Emma was safe and protected, and until the baby was grown and could make her own life choices, Holly would do everything in her power to ensure it stayed that way.

She switched on the little night-light in the corner of the room and set her sights on the bathroom and a long hot soak in the tub. After undressing and filling the tub, she turned off the tap, settled back into the hot water and let her mind drift. It immediately went to Chance. He’d changed, but then didn’t everybody in twelve years? Cole had told her a couple of months ago that Chance had been wounded during a mission. She’d felt her blood turn cold as the shocking news had set in. No further information had been forthcoming, and all Holly could do was cling to the old belief that no news was good news. When Chance hadn’t appeared at his dad’s funeral, she’d just known something horrible had happened. She’d carried that fear for days, refusing to bother Cole or Wade during their time of grieving. If they got any news—good or bad—surely they would tell her. Then tonight when Chance walked into the clinic, the relief had been so overwhelming all she had been able to do was hold on to him and sob like a baby. He must’ve thought she’d turned into a total and complete dork.

Bath over, she pulled on an old blue T-shirt, checked on Emma once more and fell into bed. She smiled in the darkness. Chance had finally come home. That thought ran through her mind over and over again as though daring her to believe it. She’d almost reconciled herself to the idea he might never return. In a way, he hadn’t. At least not the old Chance she’d known all her life. When she’d hugged him, it was like hugging a warm pillar of marble. The small scar on his jaw added to his intensity. There was a fierceness in his eyes. His face denoted wisdom far beyond his years. Cole had once mentioned Chance was thriving in the navy, moving up in rank much more quickly than others. Once he set his mind to do it, she wasn’t surprised.

The rabble-rouser he’d been in his youth, the solitary bad boy, had been reshaped into a soldier: the best this country had to offer. He was big and dangerous and no doubt very capable. But while they may have redirected his spirit, no one would ever control it. It was that streak of wildness that made him who he was. His brothers didn’t have it. Just as their brown eyes would never be a hot icy-blue like Chance’s, their spirit would also never rival his. Chance had always been different, always found his own road. He’d found his place in life, a place he was meant to be. Unfortunately, it required him to put his life on the line each and every day, and that was something Holly wouldn’t let herself think about.