The Soldier's Seduction

From the front lines to unexpected romance—and danger—in small-town Wyoming

After a war zone bomb nearly destroyed Bryce Delaney, he’s worked hard to hide his scars. Back in his Wyoming hometown, he can pretend the nightmares don’t exist. But when a secretive, beautiful new woman in town disappears, Bryce’s protective instincts put him on the front lines again.

Wanted for murder and on the run under an alias, former A-list actress Steffi Grantham can’t return to her life until she clears her name. It’s her boss, Bryce, to the rescue, but desire ties them together, and she’s forced to make a choice that could cost them both. Trusting the wrong man once before almost stole her freedom. Now it might take her life.

Bryce’s laugh vibrated through her body. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn person in the whole world?”

“Apart from you?”

“Apart from me.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

You never will. The thought jerked her back into reality. “I’ll be fine now, Bryce. You can go. Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” The sarcasm in his voice was withering. “I’m just going to walk out of here and leave you when you can’t even crawl to your own bed.”

“You don’t have any choice. I don’t want you here.” With a determined effort, Steffi pushed herself away from him and tried to sit up straight. It was a mistake. Behind the tinted lenses, the edges of her vision went black. Everything swam out of focus. She heard Bryce call her name in alarm and the last thing she felt was his strong arms catching her...

* * *

Sons of Stillwater: Danger lurks in a small Wyoming town

Dear Reader,

The Soldier’s Seduction is the second book in the Sons of Stillwater series, and it tells the story of Bryce, the youngest Delaney brother.

Stillwater is a small Wyoming city, set in the cradle of some beautiful mountain scenery. In Stillwater, everyone knows everyone else’s business...or they think they do. On the surface the town is all laid-back Western charm. But scratch beneath the surface and nothing is what is seems.

Bryce attempts to disguise the trauma of what happened to him in Afghanistan by continuing with his daily routine. Stillwater allows him to hide in plain sight, until a new employee turns his routine upside down.

Steffi Grantham is a thorn in Bryce’s side from day one. Belligerent and uncooperative, she still manages to be the only person who makes him feel alive again.

When Bryce discovers Steffi’s true identity, he comes to her aid, and their adventure takes them across the country on a search that brings them face-to-face with danger and passion and forces them both to confront their fears.

I loved writing these characters. They were both badly hurt by their pasts, and they really needed to find each other! Giving them their happy ending was one of the most satisfying things I’ve done as a writer.

I’d love to hear from you and find out what you think of Bryce and Steffi’s story. You can contact me at www.janegodmanauthor.com, on Twitter, @JaneGodman, and on Facebook at Jane Godman Author.

Happy reading,

Jane

The Soldier’s Seduction

Jane Godman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mom to two grown-up children.

This book is dedicated to my editor, Carly Silver. She makes every book we work on together the best it can be, and she has been a wonderful cheerleader for the Sons of Stillwater miniseries!

Thank you, Carly.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter 20

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Bryce Delaney was at a point where anger was threatening to tip over into fire-storming rage, and he wasn’t sure why. This sort of thing happened all the time. Delaney Transportation was a large organization. Dealing with employees who stepped out of line was part of his job. He was used to the inevitable frustrations that came with being in charge. Even so, as he made his way toward his brother’s office, he needed to find an outlet for this unexpected fury.

When Bryce kicked the door closed behind him, Vincente looked up from one of his complicated color-coded financial spreadsheets. As he took in the expression on Bryce’s face, he immediately closed the lid of his laptop, indicating the chair on the other side of his desk. “What has she done now?”

Bryce didn’t know whether to be annoyed that his half brother had interpreted the source of his mood correctly, or relieved that there was no need for lengthy explanations.

“She didn’t turn up for the weekly drivers’ meeting. Again.” Bryce flopped into the chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is the third time since she started with us. Last time I gave her a warning. I told her if it happened again, I would fire her stupid, stubborn, skinny ass without any further discussion.”

Vincente leaned back in his own chair, tenting his fingers beneath his chin. “If you gave her a warning and you don’t act on it, the other drivers will think you’ve gone soft.”

“I know they will. It’s just—” Bryce leaned back, gazing at the ceiling as some of the fight went out of him. “What the hell is she playing at? This is a good job. We pay well. Delaney Transportation is a great company to work for. But it’s like she has to go out of her way to thwart me any way she can. It’s not just the meetings. She’s forever telling me how I can do my job better, finding fault with the schedules, wanting me to change routes I’ve planned weeks in advance. Steffi Grantham has been a goddamn thorn in my side from the day you hired her.”

“Whoa, don’t turn this around and make it my fault. If I remember rightly, you told me I did a good job when I hired her. You said she was a good driver.” Vincente rose and moved to the coffee machine. He held up a mug and Bryce shook his head.

“She is a damn good driver. When she quits bellyaching long enough to get behind the wheel.”

Bryce couldn’t explain his feelings to Vincente. Couldn’t explain them to anyone, least of all himself. How could he possibly disclose the real reason he didn’t want to fire Steffi, no matter how hard she pushed him? Where did he start? How about with the truth? That, if he let Steffi go, he would lose the one thing that had made his miserable existence worthwhile these last three months?

After two years of bleak nothingness, the truth was there had been a bright spark in his life just lately...and Steffi was responsible for its ignition. But what sort of sorry specimen does that make me? Bryce wasn’t about to confess to anyone, least of all the brother with whom he had only recently begun to repair a prickly relationship, that the only thing getting him out of bed in the mornings these days was the prospect of an argument with a woman whose only interest in him seemed to be to tell him what he was doing wrong.

Vincente returned with his own coffee, setting the steaming mug on the desk. His expression was thoughtful. “I’m not happy to part ways with a good driver. And you know how hard I’ve been working to make sure we recruit and keep more women onto the team. Part of that drive has been to make sure we find ways around any issues they may have with things like attendance at meetings outside of their usual shift patterns. We’ve done a lot of listening to the other jobs some of our female employees do. Childcare, looking after elderly relatives, keeping the home going...we have to find ways to ensure we don’t put anyone who is dealing with all those things at a disadvantage.”

Bryce clenched a fist on his thigh. “You know I support that, but Steffi can’t keep defying me like this. I can only help her with her issues if she talks to me about them. She won’t.”

“It’s your call. Managing the drivers is your responsibility.” Bryce got the feeling Vincente would have liked to say something more, but, after a brief pause during which he sipped his coffee, he remained quiet.

“She made me so mad today. This is one time I’m actually going to enjoy telling someone they’re fired. In fact—” Bryce glanced at the clock on the wall “—I’m going to stop by her place on my way home.”

Vincente frowned. “Is that a good idea? You’re angry, and Steffi is headstrong. My advice is to call her, or wait until she shows up tomorrow. And don’t rush into firing her until you’ve heard what she has to say.”

Bryce wavered. Vincente was right, of course. Damn him. He shouldn’t do this while he was angry, and he probably shouldn’t do it face-to-face. But no one had ever gotten under his skin the way Steffi Grantham could. Since she had started working for Delaney Transportation three months ago, he had given her chance after chance and she’d thrown every one back in his face. He wanted to look her in the eye when he told her that today was the day she had used up those chances. Wanted to see if there was even a flicker of remorse there. Of course, it was just about impossible to see her eyes behind those huge, tinted glasses she wore all the time.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it brief and professional.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Vincente’s dark eyes were fixed on his face. “By going to her home and being alone with her, you’ll make yourself vulnerable. She could accuse you of anything and it would be her word against yours.”

Bryce frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But although she’s a hornet, I can’t imagine Steffi would be vindictive. It’s not her style. And she’s the one who has pushed this by not turning up today. After our last confrontation over the drivers’ meetings, she must know what’s coming.”

Vincente had been born and raised in Wyoming, but some of his gestures unconsciously betrayed his half Italian heritage. The shrug he gave now was as Italian as the taste of Chianti or the roar of a vintage Vespa’s engine. “Your call.”

Half an hour later Bryce was pulling into the parking lot at the Wilderness Lake Trailer Park and wondering if his brother might have been right. Maybe he should have waited. The edge was gone now from his anger. He viewed his surroundings and felt a flat, uncomfortable dejection. This was not the sort of place he had expected to find Steffi calling home. What the hell was it with her? How did she manage to make him feel so many conflicting emotions every time he thought of her?

Stillwater was a beautiful place. The city itself was cradled low in the embrace of a towering Wyoming mountain range. It was becoming increasingly popular with the tourists who recognized it had as much to offer as neighboring Yellowstone, and several new trailer parks had sprung up recently. Bryce’s other brother, Cameron, was the mayor of Stillwater and he, together with the council, fought an ongoing battle to ensure these places stayed within municipal regulations. Bryce was fairly sure this one didn’t. It was a run-down eyesore.

Roughly divided into sections, there was an area for fixed trailers, a larger one for visiting recreational vehicles and a cluster of tired-looking log cabins. Next to these, a tumbledown sign invited visitors to Inquire About Our Rates! Several cabins had broken windows, and the wooden structures looked like they hadn’t been varnished for years. Weeds grew wild between the paving stones of the path, and garbage was piled in the pathways between the cabins. Bryce didn’t imagine the owners got many inquiries about rates. As he drove along the narrow road in front of the cabins, he made a mental note to tell Cameron about this place.

Steffi’s cabin was set slightly apart from the others. Typical Steffi, Bryce thought grimly as he parked in front before treading up the shallow step and rapping on the scarred wood of the door. She always chose to set herself apart. There was no answer, but her beaten-up car, the one that looked like it was held together with rust and prayers, was parked out front. He took a step back and looked at the broken-down building.

He couldn’t reconcile the feisty woman he knew with this place. His drivers didn’t make a fortune, but they earned a decent wage. Enough on which to live well. It occurred to him that he knew nothing about Steffi, except that she wasn’t from Stillwater. Why had she chosen to live here? None of my business. As soon as the thought came to him he dismissed it as unworthy. He might be about to fire the woman, but no one deserved to live in this hellhole. Whatever had brought her here, if she needed a helping hand, he would offer it. He almost laughed. Just be prepared to get that hand bitten off, Delaney.

When his second knock still got no response, he walked around the cabin. His impression of the place didn’t improve upon closer contact. It was falling down. When he got around the back, Bryce pushed his way through the weeds and got up close to the window. Steffi would flay him alive with that acid tongue of hers if she knew what he was doing, but he pressed his face to the grimy glass of the window...and recoiled in shock at what he saw.

Steffi was lying curled up on the bedroom floor, clutching her hands to her stomach as her features twisted in an expression of pain.

* * *

Steffi could see the clock on her bedside table from where she lay and its digital display told her the only thing she needed to know. The drivers’ meeting had finished hours ago. Bryce Delaney would be burning up with rage. Even though she had lain awake all night with stomach cramps after throwing up most of the previous day, she had done her best to get ready for work that morning. Struggling to the shower, she had shivered under the pathetic stream of water that never quite seemed to heat up enough. Getting into her clothes had taken forever and by the time she’d managed it, she was shaking all over and as weak as a kitten. As she’d snatched up her car keys and cell phone, her legs had given way and she’d hit the floor. That was the last thing she remembered for some time.

Now, having faded in and out of consciousness for most of the day, she supposed she could have called Bryce and offered him an explanation for why she’d missed his precious meeting. Her lips tightened. He wouldn’t believe me. And I won’t grovel. Let him fire me. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

She closed her eyes again, only to have them jerk open abruptly at the sound of splintering wood. They’ve found me! The thought hammered panic through to every nerve ending and she tried to scurry into the only available hiding place. Her weary limbs refused to fully obey the promptings of her brain and she was only halfway under the bed when a man burst into the room. She cowered, wrapping her arms around her head, wanting to fight him as he reached out a hand to her, but not having the strength.

“Steffi, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Bryce.”

He knelt beside her. She risked uncovering her head to look at him. The expression in his dark eyes was a mixture of shock and concern. She could never see those eyes without noticing how beautiful they were. And then giving herself a mental kick for noticing. She couldn’t allow herself the sort of weakness that came with attraction. No matter how handsome Bryce might be—and he was oh-so handsome—she had to fight the magnetic pull that drew her to him. She had more important things to focus on. Like staying alive.

A thought penetrated her weariness. Focus. Eyes. Something about eyes...

“Don’t let them get me.” She clutched his arm, momentarily too afraid to reinstate the barriers she was always so careful to maintain between them. “I need to see him first.”

“Who, Steffi?” Bryce’s voice throbbed with anxiety. “What are you afraid of?”

By the time he’d finished speaking, every reason why she needed to shut him, and everyone else, out of her life had returned. The fear of being discovered receded, replaced by the more immediate fear of allowing Bryce to get too close. Antagonism usually did the trick. She quickly slipped into the familiar role.

“How did you get in here?” She wished her voice didn’t sound so pathetic. Where was her cloak of prickliness when she needed it?

“I kicked the door down.”

“You did what?” That was better. That tone had something approaching her usual fire.

His grin peeped out. The boyish one that had an annoying habit of disarming her just as she was in full tirade. “Oh, come on, Steffi. I could have blown on it like the wolf in the kid’s story and gotten in here. It will take me two minutes to patch it back up again. Five minutes and I’ll have it in better shape than it was before. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

She tried to inject every bit of energy she had into her next words. “Get out of my house.”

Evidently every bit of energy she had wasn’t enough, because he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her on the bed. She should try to fight him, but it was taking every ounce of stamina she had just to keep her eyes open. She slumped back onto the pillows, scowling at him from beneath lowered brows.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

She didn’t want his help. Accepting it was the very last thing she wanted to do, but she was weak as a kitten. Maybe if she conceded and allowed him to feel useful he would go away. She had a feeling it was a vain hope. “Some water would be good. And you could hand me my glasses.”

“You don’t need those tinted lenses in here. It’s gloomy as hell.”

“I can’t see without them.” It was a lie, but she’d remembered what it was about eyes that bothered her. Part of it.

He found her glasses on the bedside table and handed them to her before making his way toward the tiny kitchen. She heard him moving around in there and lay back, too wrung out to do anything else. When he returned with a glass of water, Steffi found to her shame that she couldn’t struggle into a sitting position. Without hesitation, Bryce placed the glass on the bedside table and, sitting on the bed next to her, slid an arm around her waist. Lifting her so she could lean against him, he held the glass to her lips. She submitted, grateful for both the cool liquid and his strong arms.

“We have to get you to a doctor.”

She shook her head, the action causing her cheek to rub against the hard muscle of his chest. It was both comforting and disturbing at the same time. Disturbing because she didn’t do physical contact. Closeness meant opening up to another person. That meant trust. The last time Steffi had trusted someone, she had been five years old. The person she trusted had brought her a new doll, then murdered her parents. She had never made that mistake again.

“No doctor.” Not a chance.

“Steffi, you are clearly unwell. If this is about money...”

With an effort, she lifted her head to glare at him. Even behind the dark glasses, she had perfected the expression so it had maximum impact. “I said no.”

His laugh vibrated through her body. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn person in the whole world?”

“Apart from you?”

“Apart from me.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Your family? I’d like to meet them.”

You never will. The thought jerked her back to reality. “I’ll be fine now, Bryce. You can go. Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” The sarcasm in his voice was withering. “I’m just going to walk out of here and leave you when you can’t even crawl to your own bed.”

“You don’t have any choice. I don’t want you here.” With a determined effort, Steffi pushed herself away from him and tried to sit up straight. It was a mistake. Behind the tinted lenses, the edges of her vision went black. Everything swam out of focus. She heard Bryce call her name in alarm, and the last thing she felt was his strong arms catching her as she fell back onto the pillows.

* * *

Steffi would kill him for ignoring her wishes, Bryce decided as he ended his call. If she couldn’t find something to do to him that would cause more pain than death. He checked on her again in between waiting for Leon Sinclair to answer his summons and fixing the pathetic front door. Her breathing seemed way too shallow.

Stop panicking. Leon will know what to do.

Bryce was pleased to have found this decisiveness within himself. It was a trait that often went missing at the most important times. Day to day, he could function. No one would know there was a problem. At Delaney Transportation, he knew the drivers viewed him as a good boss: tough, uncompromising, a little picky about the details. It was when the unexpected happened, if he was faced with an emergency, that it all came back to him. The explosion, the blood, the guilt. That was when his mind and body froze and he ceased to function. But he had made this decision about Steffi without hesitation. The thought brought with it a new and unexpected tingle of pride.

He prowled restlessly around the little cabin. In contrast to its ramshackle exterior, the inside was scrupulously clean and neat. In the midst of this squalor, Steffi had tried to make the place comfortable. Somehow, the sight of the bright cushions and throw on the sofa brought with it a feeling of sadness. He frowned. If she suspected him of pitying her, Steffi would be outraged. In the bedroom, the quilt on the bed was a colorful, cozy patchwork and there were vases of wildflowers throughout. The whole cabin smelled fresh and clean. There was a TV in the tiny den and a smaller one in the bedroom.

Even so, there was nothing about this place that made it Steffi’s. The few prints on the walls were landscapes. There was nothing personal, no photographs, no knickknacks, nothing that claimed it as hers. It was as bland as a vacation rental or hotel room. If she walked out of here right now, no one would know who had lived here. The only unusual thing was the stack of newspapers—she must read several each day—and celebrity gossip magazines. He wouldn’t have figured Steffi was the type to enjoy those. He shrugged. It just confirmed how little he knew about her.

When Leon arrived, Bryce studied him cautiously. Both men were veterans of the war in Afghanistan, but their career paths could not have been more different. While Bryce had been an explosive ordnance disposal—EOD—specialist, or bomb disposal expert, Leon had been an army doctor. Bryce’s promising career had been brought to an end two years ago by a roadside bomb. His physical injuries had healed quickly, leaving him with only a slight limp. He knew his brothers would say he had been left with other, deeper scars. Bryce didn’t encourage such comments, even if he knew them to be true.