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Gavin appreciated having a good man like Caldwell to keep things running in his absence. The older man had done the same thing during Gavin’s father’s time. And Caldwell’s father had been foreman to Gavin’s grandfather, so Caldwell and his family also had deep history with the ranch.
While he was home, Gavin intended to return to ranching. He couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle and ride Acer as well as help Caldwell and the men with the herd. And he needed to go over the books with Phil Vinson, the ranch’s accountant.
However, the first thing on his agenda was a discussion with his grandmother about her giving someone permission to dig on their land. Hopefully he’d have everything settled by next week and he would hightail it to Mississippi. All he needed was one night with a woman and then he’d be good for a while.
He had taken one step onto the porch when the front door swung open and his grandmother walked out. She was smiling, and when she opened her arms, he dropped his duffel bag and walked straight into the hug awaiting him. She was petite, but her grip was almost stronger than that of a man. He loved and admired her so damn much. This was the woman who’d been there for him when his own mother had left. The woman who’d been there for him when he’d laid his father to rest sixteen years ago. She had, and always would be, his rock. That’s why he refused to tolerate anyone trying to take advantage of her kindness.
“Welcome home, Gavin,” she said, finally releasing him so she could lean back and look at him from head to toe as she always did when he returned from one of his assignments. “I didn’t expect you for a few months yet. Did everything go okay?”
He smiled. She always asked him that knowing full well that because of the classified nature of his job, he couldn’t tell her anything. “Yes, Gramma Mel, everything went okay. I’m back because I understand you and I need to—”
He glanced over his grandmother’s shoulder and he blinked, not sure he was seeing straight. A woman stood in the doorway, but she wasn’t just some woman. She had to be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Hell, she looked like everything he’d fantasized a woman to be, even while fully clothed in jeans and a pullover sweater. He didn’t want to consider what his reaction would be if she was naked.
His grandmother sensed his attention had shifted. She turned around and smiled at the woman. “Layla, come out here. I want you to meet my grandson.”
Layla? Where had she come from? Was she the granddaughter of one of his grandmother’s fellow church members or something? He recalled Mrs. Cotton had a granddaughter who visited on occasion from Florida and her name was Layla...or was it Liza? Hell, he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t thinking straight. When this Layla began walking toward him, he ceased thinking at all. She was wearing stretch jeans and a long sweater and had an eye-catching figure with curves in all the right places.
Gavin fought for air as she neared. He studied her features, trying to figure out what about them had him spellbound. Was it the caramel-colored skin, dark chocolate eyes, dimpled cheeks, button nose or well-defined kissable lips? Maybe every single thing.
Wow! Was he that hard up for a woman or did this Layla actually look that good? When she stopped beside him, a smile on her lips, he knew she actually looked that good. He kept his gaze trained on her face—even when he really wanted his eyes to roam all over her.
Not waiting for his grandmother to make introductions, his mouth eased into a smile. He reached out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Gavin.”
The moment their hands touched, a jolt of desire shot through his body. It’s a wonder he hadn’t lost his balance. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before and he touched women all the time. From the expression that had flashed in her eyes, he knew she had felt it, as well. Yes, there was definitely strong sexual chemistry between them.
“It’s nice meeting you, Gavin,” she said softly. He even liked the sound of her voice. “And I’m Layla. Layla Harris.”
Harris? His horny senses suddenly screeched to a stop. Did she say Harris? Was Layla related to this Professor Harris? The woman’s daughter perhaps? Was she part of the excavation team? She looked young, around twenty or twenty-one. Now he had even more questions and he was determined to get some answers when he had that little talk with his grandmother. “It’s nice meeting you, too, Layla.”
It was only when she eased her hand from his that he realized he still held it. She turned to his grandmother. “Thanks for the cookies and milk, Ms. Melody. I enjoyed them. I need to run into town to pick up a few items. Anything I can get for you while I’m there?”
“No. I’ve got everything I need.”
Layla nodded. “Okay. I should be back in a couple of hours.”
“Take your time.”
Giving Gavin one last smile, she quickly walked down the steps toward the parked car. He stood and watched her every move until she was inside the car with the door closed. It was then that he turned his attention back to his grandmother. Not surprisingly, she was staring at him.
“For a minute I thought you’d forgotten I was standing here, Gavin Timothy Blake III,” his grandmother said in an amused tone.
So he’d been caught ogling a woman. It hadn’t been the first time and he doubted it would be the last. “What can I say, Gramma Mel?” He grinned sheepishly. “She’s awfully pretty.”
He decided not to mention how he appreciated that sway to her hips when she walked, or how nice her breasts looked beneath her sweater.
“Yes, she is pretty. Come inside. Just so happens I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning.”
That made Gavin smile even wider as he picked up his duffel bag. His mouth watered just thinking about the cookies. Now if he could only get that image of Layla Harris’s backside out of his mind...
“How are the rest of your teammates?” his grandmother asked, leading him through the front door. “You guys were together for over two months on this mission.”
He glanced around as he entered. Everything looked the same. However, instead of smelling like vanilla, his grandmother’s favorite scent, the house smelled of woman. Namely Layla Harris.
“Everyone is fine, just anxious to get home. Bane and his wife are renewing their vows in a few weeks and I plan to attend the ceremony,” he said, placing his duffel bag on the sofa for now. “This was Coop’s first covert operation after being rescued and he’s good as ever.”
The only reason Gavin shared that much info with his grandmother was because when he’d come home last year before the holidays everyone had believed Coop had been killed on assignment. The entire team had taken Coop’s death hard. Then right before Christmas, they’d found Coop was alive and being held hostage in the Syrian mountains. Gavin and his team had been sent in to get Coop, as well as other hostages, out alive.
“This was Bane’s first time back, too, right?” his grandmother asked.
Did his grandmother not forget anything? Bane, being master sniper, had been recruited to work in DC for six months teaching SEAL recruits. “Yes, we were glad to have him back as well. And before I forget, I plan to head for Mississippi next week. I’ve got important business to take care of there.” His grandmother didn’t need to know that the important business was getting laid.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, he went straight to the sink to wash his hands and then quickly headed for the coffeepot. After pouring a cup, he turned and watched Gramma Mel arrange a half-dozen cookies on a plate for him. He smiled. Anyone else would eat just one or two, but his grandmother knew him well. He needed at least a half dozen to get things started. “You need a fresh cup of coffee?” he asked her.
“Thanks. That would be nice, Gavin.”
After pouring another cup, he moved away from the counter to sit down and she sat across from him. He placed her coffee in front of her and grabbed for a cookie. She slapped away his hand. “Say grace first.”
He chuckled, recalling the protocol she expected of him. After quickly bowing his head in silence, he grabbed a cookie and almost swallowed it whole. He loved his grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies.
She shook her head as she took a sip of her coffee. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what had brought him rushing back to the Silver Spurs. “What’s this I hear about you giving some professor permission to dig on our land?”
Gramma Mel raised a brow over her cup of coffee. “And you know this how?”
He held his grandmother’s gaze. “Sherman Lott called. He thought I had a right to know.”
She frowned. “As far as I’m concerned, Sherman needs to mind his own business.”
Gavin stared at this grandmother as he bit into another cookie. “The way I figure it, Caldwell is the one who should have called me. He’s paid to keep me informed about what’s going on around here. But he wouldn’t call because he’d think doing so would be disloyal to you. And we both know what you mean to him.”
His grandmother didn’t say anything. She just stared into her cup of coffee. There really wasn’t anything to say. Gavin had known for years that his grandmother and Caldwell had a thing going on. He wasn’t stupid. Nor was he insensitive. He wanted the two people who meant the most to him to be happy. He figured that one day they would stop trying to be so damn discreet. In the meantime, what they did was their business. He’d only brought it up now to make a point.
“Caldwell would have told you had he thought it was important,” his grandmother finally said.
“Whatever.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So what about it? Did you give permission for a dig to take place on our property?”
She leaned back in her chair. “Yes, I gave my permission and I see nothing wrong with it.”
Gavin kept his cool. “Well, I do. Honestly, Gramma Mel. You actually bought into this professor’s tale about Jesse James’s buried treasure?”
“Yes, I read her research and found it thorough and convincing. I have a copy, if you want to read it for yourself.”
“I don’t need to read anything to know the research is false. There’s no buried treasure on our land, and I’m against the idea of anyone digging around for nothing.”
His grandmother leaned forward in her chair. “And I happen to disagree. But what you believe is a moot point since I’ve given Layla permission and from what she told me this morning, her equipment will arrive in a few days—”
“Hold up,” he said, giving the time-out sign with his hands. “Why did you give Layla Harris permission? It’s her mother who’s running things, right?”
His grandmother look confused. “Her mother? I never met the woman. Layla is in charge or should I say Dr. Layla Harris is in charge.”
Surprise made Gavin raise his eyebrows. “Layla is the professor?”
“Yes, and a very competent one.”
Gavin shook his head, not believing such a thing was possible. “She’s young.”
“She’s twenty-six. However, I admit she does look younger.”
Twenty-six? That was still young and yes, she definitely looked younger. He drew in a deep breath, trying to force back the memories of just how she’d looked...in her jeans and sweater. And then the thought that she’d deliberately oozed her way onto his grandmother’s good side made him mad.
“You might have given your permission, but I have not given mine. Something that major means we need to be in full agreement.”
“No, it doesn’t. If you recall, we agreed that any time you were away on military business, I could make decisions in the best interest of the Silver Spurs.”
“I don’t consider digging up our land to be in the best interest of anything.”
“I disagree. I’m excited about what Layla might find. And I also gave her permission to stay in the guesthouse.”
The line of Gavin’s jaw tightened. He’d figured as much. Melody Blake was stubborn, but then so was he. He ate the last of his cookies, drained his coffee and stood. “I’m tired and need a full day of sleep. But we will talk about this again, Gramma Mel. In the meantime, I suggest you tell Dr. Layla Harris to hold up on bringing any type of equipment to the Silver Spurs.”
And without saying anything else Gavin walked out of the kitchen.
Two
Layla pulled her car off on the shoulder of the road, unable to drive any farther. Once she killed her vehicle’s ignition, she forced herself to breathe deeply a few times. Never in all her twenty-six years had any man wreaked havoc on her senses like Gavin Blake. Never had any man left her in such a mind-blowing sensuous state. Who would have thought a man could have her nerves dancing, her mind racing, her stomach swirling and her nipples actually feeling like they’d been stroked? She had been tempted to glide her hands over every inch of his sexy, sculpted body.
She had known he was the epitome of male perfection from all those photographs she’d seen. To be honest, that’s where her troubles had started...with those photographs. In one, his lips had curved a little at the corners as he stared at her as if to say he knew exactly what she was thinking. She knew it was her wild imagination, but every time she glanced at that particular photo it was as if he was checking her out with those intense dark eyes of his. As if he knew her fantasies included him. Even in his photo, his muscular power had nearly overtaken her senses.
Pretty much like he’d done today. She hadn’t counted on the real thing being even more explosive than his pictures. Before he’d realized she was in his grandmother’s doorway, she had stood there spellbound as a rush of emotion made her body ache with desire. Then, when he’d noticed her, those eyes had made her yearn for something she didn’t need. Something she had never needed. A man.
Gavin Blake had stood on his grandmother’s porch wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with his military tag hanging around his neck. Even wearing her sweater, she found the air cool, but the temperature hadn’t seemed to faze him. Was he as hot-blooded as he looked?
The one thing she did know was that he was a big guy. Tall. Muscular. Built. She could imagine him as the football hero she’d heard he used to be, tackling players with little or no trouble. And she could definitely imagine him as a SEAL, taking on the bad guys to protect his country.
And she couldn’t help but imagine him naked in bed...with her. Unfamiliar sensations raced through her just thinking about it. When he had touched her hand while staring into her eyes, she’d forgotten all about Ms. Melody standing there and had all but purred out loud. Blood had pounded through her entire body. She doubted she would ever use her hand again without remembering the feel of him. If her body reacted from a single touch to her hand, she didn’t want to imagine him touching her anywhere else...her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. And when he smiled at her, she’d been a goner. She could still feel the impact in the pit of her stomach.
She had never experienced this kind of need in her life. She didn’t even have a battery-operated boyfriend like some of her single female colleagues joked about owning. Sex was something that had never been on her must-do list. She’d put her energy into her academic career. But there was something about Gavin that made her think of heat and desire. Something that made the area at the juncture of her thighs quiver. Made her hormones sizzle.
Drawing in another deep breath, Layla admitted she needed to get a grip. She wasn’t in Cornerstone, Missouri, to lust after the man who jointly owned the land she needed as an excavation site. All she wanted to do was stay on schedule and have a successful dig. Besides, Gavin Blake probably looked at other women the same way he’d looked at her. Hadn’t that waitress in town enlightened Layla as to just what a ladies’ man he was? Now seeing was believing.
Seeing was also a warning to keep her common sense intact and be on guard. An involvement with Gavin Blake was the last thing she needed, even though her body was trying to convince her otherwise.
There was something else she should be concerned about, something she just remembered. Ms. Melody had said that her grandson might be against the idea of a dig on the Silver Spurs. Although Ms. Melody had given the okay, would Gavin’s return change anything? The thought of losing the permission she’d gained sent nervous jitters through her.
Maybe she should talk to Gavin Blake herself. She would present her research to him the same way she’d presented it to Ms. Melody. Layla wanted to believe he was reasonable. It wasn’t as if she would be digging all over his property. She had narrowed it to one location.
Yes, she would talk to him herself, but only after she talked to Ms. Melody—and after Layla convinced herself she could talk to him without every part of her turning to mush.
* * *
Gavin’s eyes flew open and his entire body went on full alert. His ears picked up the sounds around him and it was then he recalled he was back in the United States and not in some godforsaken country where he had to be on guard 24/7.
It was always this way for the first few days after he returned home. He had to regroup and get his mind back in sync with normal life, deprogram from battle mode and ease back into the life of a rancher.
Glancing at the clock on his bedroom wall, he saw it was ten at night. He wasn’t surprised that he’d slept nearly nine hours straight. His ears perked up at the sound that had woken him. Was that a harmonica? Granted it was far off, but he could still hear it. His teammates teased him about having sonic ears, because of his ability to hear a sound over a hundred feet away.
He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse when he involuntarily eavesdropped on conversations he wished he hadn’t. Like the time Mac was outside the barracks and downstairs in the yard talking to his wife on the phone, telling her in explicit sexual terms what he planned to do to her when he returned home from their mission. Gavin had heard every single word and the details had nearly burned his ears. They had definitely made him horny as hell. For a fleeting moment it had made him wish he had a wife or an exclusive woman he could return home to instead of a little black book filled with names of willing women.
Gavin pushed the whimsical thought from his mind as he lay in bed and listened to the music. It sounded pretty damn good. He sat up and rubbed his hands across his face as if to wipe away the sleep. Pushing the bedcovers aside, he eased out of bed. Not bothering to cover his naked body, he strolled over to the window, pushed aside the curtain and looked out. The October air produced a chill that would send shivers through a normal person’s body. But because of his SEAL training, Gavin could withstand temperatures of the highest and lowest extremes.
The way the moonlight crested the rocky bluffs, dissecting the valleys and rolling plains, was simply breathtaking. There was nothing more beautiful than Silver Spurs at night. For as long as he could remember, he’d always been moved by the grandeur of the land he was born on.
The harmonica stopped and he knew the sound had come from the party house where Layla was staying. Since the woman was still in residence, he could only assume his grandmother had not delivered his message. Had she done so he was certain Professor Layla Harris would have left by now.
Maybe he should talk to Layla Harris himself. Make it clear where he stood. He moved back toward the bed. Instead of getting into it, Gavin ignored the voice of reason saying he should wait and talk to Layla in the morning and grabbed his clothes off the chair. After sliding into his jeans he tugged his T-shirt over his head. He put on his socks and boots and headed for the door.
The music from the harmonica started up again.
* * *
Layla placed her harmonica aside. Playing it relaxed her and she would always appreciate her grandfather for teaching her. She could vividly recall those summers when she would sit on the front porch of her grandparents’ New Orleans home and listen to her grandfather play his harmonica, then beg him to teach her how. When Grampa Chip passed away ten years ago, his request had been that she play the harmonica at his funeral and she had.
Thoughts of losing the grandfather she adored always made her sad and that was the last emotion she wanted to feel right now. Even when she had no idea what would happen with this dig, she wanted happy thoughts. Earlier, Ms. Melody assured Layla that all was well. Her grandson was too exhausted to think straight and he needed a full day of sleep.
Layla hoped that was good news considering she had all that machinery on the way. She figured Ms. Melody knew her grandson better than Layla did. She would wait for Gavin Blake to get his full day of sleep. Hopefully, after another discussion with Ms. Melody, he would see things the way his grandmother did.
Layla glanced around the guest cottage, thinking how much she liked it here. The place was larger than her apartment in Seattle. She definitely didn’t have a huge living room with a fireplace or a spacious master bedroom with a large en suite bath with a walk-in shower and Jacuzzi tub. The cottage also had a loft that could be used as additional sleeping space, and an eat-in kitchen. She loved the wood floors throughout and the high ceilings. And because it sat a distance away from the main house, she could play her harmonica without worrying about disturbing anyone. That was something she couldn’t do at her own apartment.
She stood to stretch and was about to head toward the bedroom when she heard a knock on the door. Glancing at the clock on the wall she saw it was after ten. Usually Ms. Melody was in bed every night by eight since she was such an early riser. Had something happened? Had the older woman decided not to butt heads with her grandson and didn’t want Layla and her team to dig on the Silver Spurs after all?
Layla moved toward the door. It didn’t have a peephole so she leaned against the wooden frame and asked, “Who is it?”
“Gavin. Gavin Blake.”
Her gaze widened and heat swirled around in her lower belly. She tried forcing the sensations aside. Why would Gavin seek her out at this time of night? Had something happened to Ms. Melody? From their talks, she knew the older woman suffered occasionally with migraines.
She opened the door and the man stood there, almost bigger than life, and looking as yummy as a chocolate sundae. He was dressed as he had been that morning. Jeans. T-shirt. Western boots. But her brain wasn’t computing what he was wearing as much as how well he was wearing it.
Although it was cold, he wasn’t even wearing a jacket. He leaned in the doorway looking exactly like any woman’s dream. Hot. Sexy. And then some. He was one of those can’t-get-to-sleep nighttime fantasies that left you hot and bothered with no relief in sight. It was those thoughts that had her unable to speak, so she just stood there and stared at the penetrating dark gaze holding hers as her heart beat violently in her chest.
She knew SEALs stayed in shape, but the body of the man standing before her was simply ridiculous. She knew of no other man whose body was so well built. So magnificently toned. His jeans appeared plastered to him in the most decadent way. He made her think of wicked temptation and sinful delights.
Doubting she could stand there much longer without going up in flames, even with the blast of cold air, she swallowed deeply and then forced her voice to ask, “Is something wrong with Ms. Melody?”
From the look that quickly flashed across his features, she could tell he was surprised by her question. “What makes you think something is wrong with my grandmother?”
Layla sighed deeply. “What other reason would bring you here?”
That, Gavin thought, was a good question. Why was he here? He had heard the harmonica. And had quickly figured out the source was Layla in the party house. So what had driven him out into the night? He definitely could have waited until morning to talk to her about the dig. Had he come here just to stand in the doorway to try and get his fill of looking at her?