Chapter 2

2

Caleb

That’s not the girl I hired.

I would never have hired someone I’d want to fuck.

And Christ, I’m tempted.

The intern who was supposed to arrive this morning was in her late thirties. An empty nester from the closest town looking to make extra money. The plan was to study the way a woman behaves, speaks, cooks. Take notes, so I could write a female with authenticity. Watching this girl will do nothing but make my dick hard. So why did I facilitate this lie?

Because she was getting ready to tell me the truth. Then what reason would I have had to keep her here? This girl with the brave, green eyes. This girl who is running from something that I instinctively want to protect. This girl whose voice sounds like I already dreamed about it.

Who is she?

My hands curl into fists as I pace the length of my study. When I removed her socks, her feet were bruised from running. No one runs through that pain unless they’re running from a nightmare. And I know what that’s like. When she challenged me, told me she wasn’t soft, I felt that, too. That denial of weakness to everyone, even myself.

How ironic that I required a woman here so I could catalogue her differences.

And one so similar to me shows up.

There are quite a few physical differences to her, though. Even caked in sweat and dirt, nicked up from tree branches, I couldn’t help but marvel over a body so supple. Her bones are so fragile, her muscles lithe and feminine. She’s younger than me, probably by a good decade, even though her eyes are those of an old soul. Her hair is an indescribable color. Brown and sandy and blonde, an earthy combination that reaches her waist.

She’s unkempt. Wild. Beautiful.

What the hell am I thinking keeping her here?

Building a foundation of lies, when my policy has always been the truth at all costs.

And if I couldn’t let her go after one hour, what makes me think I’ll happily let her leave in two weeks?

Is there something wrong with me? Who lusts after a girl who is so clearly troubled? Scared? Running away from something?

Because it’s not just sex I’m craving from her.

It’s something else, too. That quiet strength in her eyes grabbed me around the throat, roused my protective hackles. Made me feel possessive. I don’t simply want her to be the first woman I’ve had in years. I want to be the shield between her and whatever she’s scared of.

The sound of the shower running brings my head up.

Is she already naked?

Just thinking of the suds coursing down over her nipples, my simple, white bar of soap lathering up her pussy, makes my dick pulse hot. It thickens in my jeans, damn near making me dizzy. But the girl is starved and exhausted, so I need to rein it the hell in.

Ordering myself to focus, I throw some steaks on the stove and roast some root vegetables from the garden. I’m buttering some bread and setting it on a plate in the middle of the table when she enters the kitchen, her long hair wet, a plain white T-shirt of mine down to her knees. The fact that she looks so goddamn young doesn’t abate my lust, but it sure as hell makes me feel like a bastard.

I pretend not to notice when she turns a surreptitious eye to the stack of mail on my sideboard. Looking for a name to call me, no doubt. A name she’s already supposed to know.

Either way, I’m anxious to hear her say it.

“Sit.” My voice is nothing but a scrape of sound. “Get started if you want.”

“Thank you.”

I turn my back, so she doesn’t have to be embarrassed about inhaling the bread and butter. And sure enough, when I turn around a minute later, half of the plate is empty.

Right then and there, it’s decided.

If a man is responsible for hurting this girl, I’m going to carve out his entrails.

No one hurts her again. Ever.

God, I wish I knew her real name. I’d know everything about her by morning. I’ve got the intelligence connections to make that happen easily. But I can’t ask for her government name without ruining the ruse—and something tells me she needs this deception. She needs to hide inside this game we’re playing and for some reason, I’m compelled by something deep and resolute to give this girl what she requires. To feel safe. To stay.

When the light hits her cheek and I realize the dirt was a bruise, I set the steak and vegetables down in front of her harder than intended. She flinches, but keeps her head down.

“How was your shower?”

She picks up her utensils, visibly trying to pace herself. Not dive in right away. “Amazing,” she says. “I didn’t want to get out.”

“Why did you?”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “I smelled dinner.”

My laugh is more of a grunt. “Do you want a beer?”

“Oh, I’m not—” Old enough. Damn. Not even twenty-one. “Sure.”

I take two cold ones out of the fridge, twist off the caps and set them down. Take my seat across from her at the table. She picks up her bottle, reads the label and takes a long sip while I try not to obsess over the way her throat looks swallowing.

“So…” she says, looking at me through her lashes. “What is your book about?”

Shit, I didn’t expect her to ask. I haven’t told anyone the plot. But I find myself wanting her to know. Find myself wanting to tell her anything, just so she’ll look at me. “A retired army ranger. Home after a decade, living with a wife who doesn’t know him anymore. There’s a murder in his hometown and his PTSD makes him wonder if he committed it during a blackout. His wife and him…they…”

“What?”

“I don’t want it to sound like a romance. It’s not.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Just say the rest.”

I hesitate. “They reconnect, I guess, while solving the mystery together.”

“Oh,” she says casually, the beer bottle poised at her lips. “Is there kissing?”

“No,” I say firmly. Then, “Might be. Haven’t decided. It’ll be minimal, if so.”

“Good idea.” She smiles into a bite of a carrot. “No one likes kissing.”

I make a mental note that women allow men to have their small victories.

Or at least this one does.

“Um.” She shifts in her chair and I realize I’ve been staring at her beautiful mouth. “You said writing the book wasn’t your idea. Whose was it?”

Now it’s my turn to shift uncomfortably. “My doctor.” I pick up my fork, but it remains suspended over my plate. I’m no longer seeing the food, but a rush of color. A riot of sound that includes gunfire, chopper blades, screaming. “I brought a little too much war back with me. He thought putting my focus into something else, a fictional world, would be helpful.”

She’s stopped chewing, her green eyes softening, searching.

I won’t be able to stand her sympathy—or anyone else’s—so I change the subject. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be following you and taking notes.”

“No,” she murmurs after a few seconds. “That’s…why I’m here.”

“Yes. It is.” A heavy beat passes between us. She looks so young and vulnerable, swallowed up in my shirt, that my question escapes in an urgent rasp. “Where did the bruise on your face come from?”

Let me kill whoever did it.

Her fork clatters down onto the plate, slipping through pale fingers. “Is that…I-I can’t recall if you asking me personal questions is part of the deal we made.” She looks like she’s seconds from bolting and I brace to give chase, if necessary. “Is it?”

I consider lying, but I’ve already done too much of that with her. “No, it wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Then please don’t.” Her eyes implore me. “Okay?”

My back teeth grind together. “And if I do? If I demand to know every thought in your beautiful head?”

Her breath catches, color stealing up her neck.

I watch her become aware of me. As a man. I watch her realize I’m attracted to her.

Dangerouslyattracted.

She’s innocent, though. That much is obvious. She doesn’t know enough to wonder if my cock is hard beneath the table, but goddamn, is it ever. Stiff and burdensome. Ever since she arrived. And the way she’s evading my curiosity is getting my juices flowing even more. Making me want to pin her down in my bed and fuck the secrets out of her.

“If you demand to know every thought in my head, I’ll leave.” Her chin is raised, but her voice is shaky. “You can find someone else to observe for your book.”

“No. I don’t want someone else,” I growl.

“Then no personal questions,” she whispers. “Please. Or I’ll leave.”

I’m surprised when her threat finds its mark, scaring me. She’s only been here for a few hours and I’m already attached. Irreversibly so. I don’t know her name or where she came from. If she runs, I could track her, but I wouldn’t know where to look if the trail went cold. If I want to keep her here, keep her safe, my only option is to agree to her terms.

“Fine.” I tuck a piece of steak between my teeth and put all my frustration into chewing it. “But just for now.”