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Subject: Lieutenant Colonel Matt Ryan
Mission: Keep things professional...no matter how hard—or hot—it gets!
Matt Ryan wants to settle down to a peaceful life as a helicopter instructor at the local base. When he meets free-spirited antiques dealer Chelly Richardson and finds out she’s homeless, well, he has to help. But her living in his pool house means the wild-at-heart woman who is stealing his dreams each night is just a bit too close...
Chelly is determined to pay back the man who helped her during one of the toughest points in her life. She will also save the straitlaced Marine from the disaster that is her by keeping her hands off his hot, hot body. But the more she tries to stay away, the more fate seems to shove them together.
“I’m having a hard time keeping this just business...”
Matt leaned forward to kiss Chelly, lightly at first, his lips testing hers. Heat seared straight through her, settling in her core. Yes. She’d been wanting this from him for days. Since the first time she’d laid eyes on him in fact.
But it was wrong, really wrong.
Then his thumb stroked across her jaw so tenderly, she sighed and opened her mouth to his. Never in her life had a kiss done so much to her body. She thrummed from head to toe. And then she was lost in him.
When they parted, they were both breathing hard.
“That was—um, hot,” she said. “Amazing...and hot.”
She wasn’t going to do this.
Then he pulled her back to him and she was lost again.
Dear Reader,
As I finish up the edits on this book, it’s Veterans Day, a time of remembering those who have and continue to fight for our freedom. And the book comes out around July Fourth, which is a big holiday for us to celebrate those freedoms in America. It isn’t lost on me that I can write my fun, sexy romances because of what these people have done for their country. I appreciate that freedom every day.
I try to keep these books light and fun, and I sometimes take a bit of literary license with my characters and their jobs. But I never ever lose sight of the men and women who put themselves in harm’s way to protect us, whether they be Marines, Army, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, National Guard, Firemen or Police. There are those who always run toward the danger. They are a special breed. This book is dedicated to them.
Much love to you all!
Candace Havens
www.millsandboon.co.uk
CANDACE “CANDY” HAVENS is a bestselling and award-winning author. She is a two-time RITA® Award, Write Touch Readers’ Award and Holt Medallion finalist. She is also a winner of the Barbara Wilson Award. Candy is a nationally syndicated entertainment columnist for FYI Television. A veteran journalist, she has interviewed just about everyone in Hollywood. You can hear Candy weekly on New Country 96.3 KSCS in the Dallas–Fort Worth Area.
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Extract
Copyright
1
CHELLY RICHARDSON ROLLED down the window of her beat-up truck and breathed in deep. And then she banged her head on the steering wheel three times.
This is not happening.
She tried the ignition again. Nothing. Her already awful twenty-four hours had hit a new low. After driving straight from Nashville to Corpus Christi, Texas, she was exhausted. When she couldn’t get her new roommate to answer she’d taken a long nap at a truck stop located just outside of town. When she still couldn’t get her friend to answer, Chelly picked up a paper and decided to hit some estate sales around town. That was what she did when she was nervous or upset. She went on a treasure hunt.
That was how she’d ended up in front of this plantation home, complete with a picturesque wraparound porch, where Old Joe—her truck—had decided to quit on her.
“I will not cry,” she whispered. Even though she willed them away, tears threatened.
Why isn’t Lila answering? That feeling Chelly sometimes had when things weren’t right niggled at her. When Chelly had called Lila on Wednesday, her friend had invited her to stay at her place for as long as she would need. Chelly was looking for a fresh start, away from Tennessee. Away from her ex, who’d become a little too attached to her. To being an almost-stalker. When he’d appeared at the diner where she was working and created a scene, she’d given her notice, packed what few belongings she had and booked it out of town.
She didn’t need that kind of drama. New life. New dreams.
Except now she couldn’t get Lila to respond, and she didn’t even have the address of her friend’s house. Never one for planning much, this time her free-spirited ways had backfired.
I’ve been in worse jams.
Not really.
Oh, shut up. Anywhere was better than Nashville, where her ex had made her life miserable.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
She glanced up from the steering wheel to find the hot guy from the estate sale looking in her passenger-side window. He was tall. At least six-three with a blond buzz cut that made her think he might be military. The bulging muscles under his T-shirt hadn’t escaped her notice when she’d been looking through the high-end treasures at his sale. Treasures that she would have been more than happy to take off his hands if she’d had more than a hundred bucks to her name. His prices were way below market value, even for a quick sale.
She forced a smile.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Uh-huh. I saw you try the ignition but it didn’t turn over. Didn’t make a sound. Could be the battery, but may be the alternator.”
Alternators were expensive; even a battery would take the last of her funds. Her throat clogged with emotion.
Oh, yay. This day just keeps getting better and better.
“If you pop the hood, I can take a look,” he said.
Here was a guy, who quite obviously had better things to do, and he wanted to give her a hand? His kindness was her undoing. A lone tear escaped down her cheek and she brushed it away fast with the heel of her hand.
So dumb. I never cry.
“Hey, now. It’ll be okay.” His voice was deep and smooth, like a good whiskey. “Don’t get upset. I’m pretty good with all things mechanical. I can help you, I promise.”
She forced another smile. “Sorry. Just having a bad day. And Old Joe decided to remind me of Murphy’s Law and has to be all stubborn because that’s going to make a bad day even better.” She sighed.
“I’ve been there,” he said. “But it’s gonna be all right. We’ll get the truck running. Like I said, there isn’t much I can’t fix.”
Maybe he wasn’t military; he might be a mechanic. Or a superhero.
“Young man,” an older woman interjected, waving at the hot guy. “How much do you want for the étagère?” She was pointing toward the Chinese Chippendale étagère that had left Chelly salivating.
Hot Guy took his aviators off, and she caught a glimpse of his beautiful dark green eyes. Wow. Total wow. He was gorgeous.
“Uh,” he said. “How much do you want to pay?”
What? Did this guy not have a clue as to what he had here?
Before the woman could answer, Chelly was out of the truck and walking toward her. “It’s five hundred, and that’s final,” she said.
The guy’s eyebrow went up, though he didn’t say anything.
“That’s fair,” the woman agreed. “Deal.” She took five one-hundred-dollar bills from her purse and gave them to Chelly.
Then the woman turned back to Hot Guy. “Young man, can you please help me load the piece into my van?” She gestured at a pristine luxury SUV parked in front of the next house.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right there.” To Chelly, he said, “No way that bookshelf is worth that much.”
She smiled. “Not a bookshelf. It’s an étagère and it’s Chippendale. Retail it would go for around seventeen hundred.”
He blew out a whistling breath. “And here I was going to sell it for twenty bucks, or whatever she offered.”
Chelly almost choked. Hot Guy was absolutely clueless.
“Why did you have an estate sale if you don’t know what you’re doing?” She realized the words sounded harsh. “Sorry.” She quickly backtracked. “I mean, there are companies who can do this for you.”
He shrugged. “I assumed it wouldn’t be this hard, and I didn’t see why I should give a company twenty percent just to sell a bunch of junk.”
She shook her head again. “You have no idea the quality of items you have here,” she said. “This junk is worth thousands of dollars. It has lots of value. Even in the few larger pieces you have on the lawn, there’s enough to buy a used car. In this neighborhood you’re going to draw in a high-dollar clientele, and you need to take advantage of that. I don’t live around here, but a neighborhood like this one is where antiques dealers go first. Most people have no idea what their stuff is worth.”
He frowned. “You seem to know a lot about this.”
“Everybody has their thing, mine is antiques. I love it all. It’s kind of a hobby.” A hobby she’d like to turn into a business someday.
“I have an idea,” he said. “If you’ll help me out, I’ll fix your truck for free.” He smiled, and she was glad she could hold on to the truck for support. The man was sexy from his blond hair to his superbly formed calf muscles and all points in between.
“I’m in over my head,” he continued. “It’s only nine a.m. If you’ll stay until around three or so, I’ll make sure your truck is ready by the time you want to go. And I’ll pay for all the parts, and, as I said, labor is free.”
Free parts. Hmm.
She asked, “And all I have to do is make sure all these sharks don’t rob you?”
He smiled again, and her breath stuck in her lungs. “It’s a fair trade. You just made me four hundred and eighty bucks more than I thought I would. The rest is gravy.”
Well, there was nowhere else she needed to be at the moment, not that she could go anywhere without Old Joe. It was win-win.
Sticking out her hand, she shook his. “Deal.” She tried to ignore the tingles that his warm fingers sent up her arm.
“I’m Matt, by the way.”
“Chelly,” she said. Then she realized she was still holding on to his hand. “Okay. I better get to work.”
* * *
LIEUTENANT COLONEL MATT RYAN wiped his hands on the rag and then shut the hood of the old Ford F-150. After a quick run to the auto parts store, he had the vehicle going pretty good. He’d changed out the alternator and the oil, and bought her a new battery.
As he’d been working, he glanced over to find Chelly smiling and chatting with customers. Unlike him, she seemed to have an easy way with people. Her strawberry-blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and that blue blouse and denim shorts—man, she was about as pretty as they came. And she was smart about that junk. About five minutes after she’d started helping him out, she’d grabbed her phone from her truck. “I’m putting the details of your sale on one of the loops I’m on for antiques freaks.” She took a few pictures and not long after that he had three times as many people on the property. It had been a steady stream ever since.
At lunch he’d stopped long enough to make sandwiches and tea for himself and Chelly. When he’d taken the lunch to her, she’d handed him a wad of cash. “I lost count, but you’re close to three thousand. It’s not safe to keep it out here. You should put it in the house somewhere.” She frowned. “I mean, it seems like a lot of money, but you never know who might show up, especially in a neighborhood like this, where people know there’s going to be good stuff.”
Three thousand dollars before noon? It was insane. He’d thought he might get a couple hundred, maybe. The only reason he’d called it an estate sale was because the neighborhood association wouldn’t allow him to refer to it as a garage sale. Chelly obviously knew what she was doing.
Occasionally, she’d asked him to carry some of the heavier items to people’s vehicles.
He kept working on the truck and was surprised when he eventually looked up to find that there was hardly anything left on the lawn. She’d sold almost all of it.
He was a pretty self-sufficient guy. Rarely asked for help. But he’d needed it today. She was a wonder.
And he was most definitely a sucker for a beautiful woman. When he’d seen that tear fall onto Chelly’s cheek earlier, he realized he’d do just about anything for her. He’d wondered who or what had made her cry. Wasn’t his business. He had noticed the trash bags in the truck cab, and a couple of lamps and a table. She was either on her way out or on her way into town.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
He turned to find her approaching him with the cash box.
“You’re all fixed up,” he said, stuffing the dirty rag into the back pocket of his khakis.
“Really?” She gave him a sweet smile, and his lower region took notice.
“Yep.”
She handed over the cash box. “You had a good haul today. There’s at least thirty-five hundred in there, probably a little more.”
What? He had no idea his parents’ junk was worth that much. He opened up the cash box and took the money out. She deserved this. He already had the money she’d given to him earlier, and it was a lot more than he’d expected. “Here,” he said, holding out the cash to her.
She waved him away. “What are you doing?”
“You deserve at least half,” he said.
She stepped back. “No, we had a deal. You fix my truck, I sell your stuff.”
“But you sold it for so much. You should get part of it. I don’t feel right keeping all of this when you did the work. I had no idea what any of this stuff was.”
She crossed her arms, still refusing to take the money. Odd, since he had a feeling she could use it. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
He nodded.
“Is this your house?” She pointed behind her.
“Yes.”
“Are you getting divorced or something? Trying to get even with your ex by getting rid of all of her stuff for a fraction of what it’s worth? I mean, I’m not judging, but I’ve been curious all day. You and what you’re selling just don’t seem to fit.”
She had that last part right. “The furniture belonged to my parents who died last year in a car crash. I inherited the house and everything in it.” Truth, he hadn’t touched any of his parents’ belongings in the house or the garage. What was sold today had been in a storage facility. His mom loved to collect furnishings. The items in storage he hadn’t recognized, so it was easy to let go of them. But the rest, even though he needed to sell up, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it, yet.
The loss tugged at his gut as it always did. After eight years in the Marines, he’d experienced a lot of loss. So many of his friends were gone, but his parents had always been his foundation. The tie that had kept him grounded. He could always go home.
And then they were killed. Gone in one night. And his world had come untethered.
“Oh.” She put a hand on his arm and her warmth seeped into him. “I’m sorry. Figures I’d hit on a sore spot. My mouth always gets me into trouble.”
“You didn’t know. And it was a while ago. I’m only now starting to deal with all of this. Haven’t been able to. I’m a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps.”
“I don’t blame you. And they had excellent taste, your parents. I apologize for prying.”
“It’s okay. Most of it was my mom’s.” It wasn’t okay, actually, but he was a Marine, and he was pretty good at moving forward.
“So, thanks again for helping me with my truck. The few things that are left I’ve put in boxes for you. They’re in the corner of the garage. All you have to do is fold up the tables. Do you have my keys? I should probably get going.”
She was leaving. That bummed him out.
“Are you sure you won’t take the cash?”
“Nope. I’m good, but thanks. This was fun for me.”
“Your idea of fun and mine are completely different,” he said.
They shared a look and he realized how his words could be misconstrued.
“Keys are in the ignition. Be safe.” He felt like he wanted to hug her, but she was a stranger. That would be weird. Even weirder was the fact that he wasn’t the hugging type.
While he knew a lot about sadness, Chelly seemed to embody it. Even when she smiled it didn’t quite reach her eyes. A woman so beautiful shouldn’t have those kinds of worries. No person should have the burden she seemed to be carrying.
He waved goodbye and then headed over to collapse the tables. He was about to shut the garage door when he noticed she was still sitting in her truck.
Was she having car trouble again? He’d checked everything out, and had even driven the truck around the block to make sure it was okay. As he drew closer, he saw that she was staring at her phone as if it were an alien. Her teeth worried her bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he walked up to the driver’s side.
She jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”
She shook her head. “I, uh. My friend texted me. She got married...in Vegas.” She sounded desolate.
“And that’s bad?”
“No. I’m happy for her.” She worried that bottom lip again. He had an urge to run his thumb across it.
What is wrong with me? The woman was having a difficult day. The last thing she needed was being ogled by him. “I’m not the best judge of emotions, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a happy face.” He pointed to her.
That made her smile, slightly. “Really, I am happy for her. She’s loved this guy for a long time. He surprised her with a trip to Vegas last night. They were married at a drive-through chapel.”
“That might not be the most romantic place to get married, but if you’re happy for her, what’s the problem?”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. He had an urge to brush her hair from her cheek and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though he had no idea what was going on.
“I drove here from Nashville to be her roommate. I was supposed to move in today.”
Realization dawned.
The roommate had filled the position with a new husband.
“So you’re—”
“Homeless.”
2
CHELLY TRIED TO keep a positive attitude through the downs of life, but the last month had about done her in. Between the stalker ex and everything she’d gone through emotionally and financially, she was on the slow train to oblivion. Those dark places she tried not to dwell in were closing in on her.
“That’s rough.” The Marine leaned in her window. He gave her a look of pity. She hated that.
“I’ve been through worse. I’ll be fine.” And she would. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in bad situations before now. There was that time in Turkey when she’d nearly been thrown in jail, and in Mumbai when she had that bug that laid her up for three days in some stranger’s house.
She sat up a little straighter and took a deep breath.
He nodded. “Strong. That’s a good character trait. But you look like you could use a break, and to be honest, I’d like to get away from the house for a bit. Do you have a swimsuit in that luggage of yours?” He nodded at the trash bags, aka all her worldly belongings in the back of her truck.
Where was he going with this?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face because he chuckled. “I’m not sure what you’re imagining, but I was going to grab some dinner and head out to my favorite place to clear my head. You’re welcome to join me, unless you have better plans?”
He had her there. “Are you a serial killer?”
He frowned. “No. Uh, I’m not.”
Shoot. She’d done it again. “Are you sure you want to hang out with me? I have a tendency to say the wrong thing all the time.”
“Well,” he said, a slow smile gracing his mouth, “I think I can handle it for the next few hours. Why don’t you pull around back and we can park your truck in one of the garages. That way your stuff will be safe. Get what you need and I’ll meet you there. Go down the street and turn into the alley.”
She should tell him no and move on, but he was right. She had nowhere else to go, and she did need a break. Dinner with Hot Guy was not the worst option. “Okay.”
His smile actually made her heart beat a little faster.
No! No more men.
A few minutes later, she had her change of clothes, a bikini and her flip-flops and was waiting by the two-story garage. The building was almost as long as the house, and it looked like there was an apartment on top. His parents must have had a great deal of money. This place was at least two and half acres in the middle of one of the nicest neighborhoods in town.
At least from what she’d seen so far.
When Lila had said she could move in, Chelly had looked up Corpus Christi and saw there was a beach. That was all she cared about, being near the water. She’d been tired of being landlocked in Nashville. Just one more reason to move.
The grime from having driven for so long was now starting to get to her. She couldn’t wait to hit the waves.
The garage door opened and she saw Matt standing there in board shorts and a clean white tank shirt. Those arm muscles were a powerful aphrodisiac.
Hey, that’s the last thing you need! No guys—it was the number-one rule she’d made in the first hour of her road trip. Ever. Well, at least not until she had her business in a good place and her life straightened out.
“You can park in this bay, but let me move my bike first.” He rolled out a black motorcycle. It was big and powerful-looking, just like him. A sexy Marine on a motorcycle.
No! Just say no.
She gave him a quick grin as she pulled into the garage. That was when she realized what he meant about his mother’s collection. There was a new Ford truck in the next bay, but the rest of the garage was filled with antiques.
“Heaven,” she whispered.
He laughed as he opened her door to help her out. “Maybe to you. To me, it’s nothing but a headache. I have no idea what’s expensive or not. I mean, I can tell from some of the wood—walnut and maple—that it’s worth something, but I don’t know what year anything was made or the value of it.”
From where she stood, she saw a wardrobe from the eighteen hundreds and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the buffet was from the same period. “Do me a favor, when you decide to sell all of this, call me first? This is a gold mine. These things should be in an air-conditioned space. The heat and moisture will play havoc with the wood.”