Полная версия
Her Last Best Fling
The man did crazy-good things to her…
Macy had no desire for anything complicated. As long as they were discreet, no one in town would know. Friends with benefits. She’d never really had one of those.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She blinked and realized she had been staring at Blake. “Uh… you’re very handsome.”
That sly grin spread across his face. “Okay.”
He turned back to the computer, but continued to grin. He knew.
“You do bad, bad things to me, Mr Marine.” The grin grew bigger.
“I haven’t touched you,” he said, his eyes still staring at the screen.
“Oh, but you don’t even have to,” she whispered. Maybe she had had one too many glasses of wine with the dinner. The room was too warm…
That made him turn.
“Ms Reynolds, are you coming on to me?”
“Yes, sir. I believe I am… So what are you going to do about it?”
Her Last Best Fling
Candace Havens
Award-winning author and columnist CANDACE “CANDY” HAVENS lives in Texas with her mostly understanding husband, two children and three dogs, Harley, Elvis and Gizmo. Candy is a nationally syndicated entertainment columnist for FYI Television. She has interviewed just about everyone in Hollywood, from George Clooney and Orlando Bloom to Nicole Kidman and Kate Beckinsale. Her popular online writer’s workshop has more than two thousand students and provides free classes to professional and aspiring writers. Visit her website at www.candacehavens.com.
For those in the military
and police and fire departments,
who put their lives on the line for us every day.
Contents
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
1
AFTER NINE MONTHS of hell in the Middle East—stuck in a hot, dark cave—Blake Michaels welcomed the deluge pounding his windshield. Heavy rain might keep the curious townsfolk from showing up at the Lion’s Club. His mom had moved the party when she discovered a good portion of Tranquil Waters wanted to be there for the hero’s return.
He was no hero.
He was a man who served his country, and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The gray, wet weather mirrored Blake’s mood. He wasn’t fond of crowds, at least since he’d returned to the States. The time away had changed him in ways he’d only begun to explore.
He appreciated the thought of a party in his honor, but being around that many people at one time was enough to give a guy the cold sweats. His doctors had promised the anxiety would eventually pass. Almost a year in solitude with only a guard, who never spoke for company, had left him with a few issues.
Once, in the hospital afterward, the nurses had found him huddled in a corner of his room. He never wanted to repeat that night.
He’d had a complete blackout, an “episode” they called it, and it scared the hell out of him. That was when he started to take the therapists more seriously.
As he came around a curve on the highway, a flash of white popped up before him. Brakes squealed as his Ford slid to a stop. His breath ragged from trying to steer away from the woman and the giant animal struggling against her. She held the animal while simultaneously trying to push its hindquarters with the toe of her candy-red high heels into the backseat of her car. This was a problem as her tight pencil skirt only allowed her leg to move to a certain height.
Crazy woman.
The dog outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. She’d have better luck putting a saddle on the black-and-white creature and riding to wherever she wanted it to go.
If they didn’t get off the two-lane road fast, someone would plow into them. No way would Blake allow that to happen.
A dog isn’t worth her losing her life.
He paused for a second.
Dang if he wouldn’t have done the very same thing. He loved animals. Scotty, the therapy dog at the hospital, gave him hours of companionship while he went through the hell the docs called physical and mental therapy.
Straightening his truck on the shoulder, Blake hopped out.
“Here,” Blake said as he shoved the beast into the back of the Ford SUV.
As he did, the woman teetered on her high heels and fell back. He caught her with one hand and pulled her out of the way. Slamming the door with his foot so the dog couldn’t get out, he steadied her with his hip. Pain shot through his leg, and he sucked in a breath.
“Are you okay?” He kept her upright with his hands around her tiny waist. The sexy librarian look with the falling curls hiding her face, nearly see-through, rain-soaked blouse and tight skirt over sexy curves did dangerous things to his libido.
Down, boy. Down.
“Thanks,” she said as she glanced back at the dog. “I’m fine. I better get Harley back to the shelter. This is the second time this week she’s broken out. Her owner passed away, and she keeps trying to go home. If you ask me, it’s the saddest thing ever to see an animal suffer.” She waved her hand. “Well, there are worse things in the world, but it’s sad that she doesn’t understand that he’s gone.”
“You could have been killed,” he said through gritted teeth, although more from the pain in his leg than being upset with her.
Stiffening, she turned slowly. When their eyes met, a clap of thunder boomed. She jumped and stumbled. He held on to her to keep her from falling down.
Tugging out of his grasp, she raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m aware of the danger.” Her chin jutted out slightly. “Which is why I stopped to get the dog. She was a danger to anyone else who might cross her path. Thank you for your assistance.”
He’d offended her without meaning to. The nurses were right, surly had become his natural state. “I—uh...” He wasn’t sure if he should apologize. With his luck, he’d only make it worse.
“Mr. Clooney’s rooster Pete says the thunderstorms are going to be pretty bad the next couple of days,” she said as she climbed into the vehicle. “And that darn rooster is never wrong. Perhaps you should think about staying inside so you aren’t tempted to help poor defenseless animals.”
With that, she slammed the door shut.
Did he just get the brush-off?
Mr. Clooney’s rooster? Wait, how was that annoying creature still alive?
He remembered when his brother poured half a bottle of cold medicine in the rooster’s feed so they could sleep in one morning during the summer. If anything, the somewhat drunk rooster crowed even louder the next morning.
The SUV sped off toward town.
Yep, that was definitely the brush-off.
It’d been a while since he’d spent time with a woman. Well, besides, the doctors and nurses at the hospital. He’d done four tours in a row, only taking a few months off occasionally to see his mom while trying to forget everything he’d gone through the past two years.
This final tour was one he couldn’t put on the “man shelf.” That’s what his therapist, a woman who was exceptionally bright and never let him get away with anything, had called his ability to shove things that upset him to the back of his brain. Every time he tried to redirect the conversation away from his recent past, she called him on it.
Blake shoved a hand over his newly shorn hair. He’d let it get longer in the hospital, but his mom didn’t like it that way.
And hell if he wasn’t just a big ole mama’s boy. Blake and his brother, J.T., would do anything for her. She’d held their family together after their dad died when he and J.T. were teens.
He might not like the idea of the party, but eating home-cooked meals his mom made was high on his list of favorite things. He could suffer through any inconvenience for that.
Thunder hit again, and the black-haired woman’s heart-shaped face popped into his mind with those almost-translucent green eyes that had seen too much of the world. He wondered if the thunder might be an ominous sign that he should stay away from her.
He grinned.
Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. The last thing he needed was to chase some skirt, but there was something about her. She’d been dressed sexy, but she didn’t suffer fools gladly.
That was something he admired.
He liked a challenge. This was a small town, and he was about to be at a party with some of the best gossips in Texas—and that was saying something in this state. A type like the sexy librarian would surely be a topic of conversation. His mom hadn’t mentioned anyone moving into town during their chats, so the woman had to be fairly new to Tranquil Waters.
After parking the truck in front of the Lion’s Club, he ripped off the wet shirt. He had an extra hanging in the cab. Once he was dressed in his blues, he steeled himself for the oncoming tide of good wishes.
“For he’s a jolly good...” voices rang out as he swung open the door and stepped inside. In other circumstances, he would have run back to the truck. But he smiled and shook hands, all the while thinking about that woman with the raven hair and killer red heels.
Perhaps having half the town at his party wasn’t such a bad thing.
Facing the blue-haired gossip brigade, he gave them his most charming smile.
“Ladies, you haven’t changed a bit,” he said. “If I didn’t know better I’d guess you were selling your souls to keep that peaches-and-cream skin of yours.”
His mother rolled her eyes, but stood on tiptoes to give him a hug.
“You’re up to something,” she whispered.
Oh, he was definitely up to something.
* * *
“BRAN MUFFINS AND fake butter. That was one knight in shining armor,” Macy complained to Harley as she wrapped wire around the lock on her cage. She never swore around the animals in the shelter as she believed they’d been through enough trauma, without listening to her temper tantrums. So when she wanted to use angry words, she thought about foods she hated.
“Doesn’t it figure that ten minutes after I vow no more men forever, he shows up?”
The dog made a strange noise that sounded like “yes.” Great Danes did have their own language. And she bet Harley understood every syllable she said.
“Oh, no. He has to be so hot that steam came off of him. And me.” She fanned her face. The heat from the encounter still on her cheeks.
“Here he comes galloping on his horse to the rescue.” Macy’s last two relationships were nonevents, except for the part where they’d cheated on her. Three weeks ago she’d discovered the man she thought she might marry was having what he called “a meaningless relationship” with an intern at the paper.
Well, it had meant something to Macy.
Harley made a strange sound.
“Fine, it was a truck he galloped in on, but still.”
The dog whined again.
“Lovely girl, I’m sorry. I’ve been going on and on about me, when you have much more to be sad about.” She squatted as much as her skirt would allow and petted Harley through the kennel.
The handsome face of the knight was one she recognized. Though his dark brown hair had been cropped close to his head, it was those dark brown, almost-black eyes she couldn’t forget. The marine, who’d been captured in Afghanistan, had returned home. She’d been headed to the welcome-home party to cover it for the newspaper. That wasn’t the kind of thing publishers did at larger papers, but this was a small town. Darla, the reporter assigned to the story, had to pick her kid up from school and take him to the dentist. And the other two reporters had the flu.
Thinking that it would be a quick in-and-out, Macy had decided to cover the party.
Well, until she found Harley soaked to the skin.
She loved animals. They weren’t as judgmental as humans. Since she was sixteen, she’d been volunteering at various shelters around the world. Every time she took a new job, that was one of the first things she did. Well, except for when she was in the Middle East. She didn’t have time to breathe then, let alone help anyone else.
In the newspaper business, one had to move a lot. There was constant downsizing and she had to go where the jobs were. That was how she’d landed in Boston—until the fiasco that was her almost-fiancé throwing their comfortable life into the proverbial toilet.
Harley nudged her.
“I promise as soon as the fence guy gets done, you are moving in with me. If this rain would stop, they could finish.” This was the first pet she’d ever adopted. The old girl had one green and one blue eye. The sorrow in them tore at Macy’s heart. She was an orphan, too, and she’d bonded with the dog ever since she’d caught her trying to get back home the first time.
Her great-uncle Todd, who had been Macy’s only remaining relative, had willed her the town’s newspaper. For months she’d been trying to sell it with no luck. When she walked in on her ex and his meaningless plaything, she decided moving to a small locale wasn’t such a bad idea. Along with the paper, her uncle had left her a beautiful house overlooking White’s Lake. She’d decided to put an eight-foot fence along two of the four-acres of the property so Harley would have a place to roam.
“Great Danes need a lot of space.” She smiled and scratched the dog’s ears.
“Hey, I thought you went to the party,” said Josh from the door as he slipped booties over his shoes for sanitary purposes. He was the local veterinarian who donated his services to the shelter.
“I was on my way, but Miss Harley got out again. I caught up with her on the highway.”
Josh tickled the dog under her chin, his fingers poking through the cage. It was a large eight-by-eight-foot space, but it wasn’t big enough for the hundred-and-seventy-five-pound dog.
“Nice knot with the wiring there. Do you sail?” He pointed to the impenetrable knot she’d devised to keep Harley in.
She shrugged. “Something I picked up from my dad. In the summer we’d go sailing.” Those weeks were some of the happiest of her life. Her parents were journalists, so it was in her blood, but it meant they traveled the far ends of the earth, leaving Macy at home.
“So are you heading over to the hero party?”
Feeling as if she’d stood in a rainstorm for an hour, which she did, she decided she’d be better off going home. “No, I’m heading back to my place to change.”
She noticed Josh wasn’t meeting her eyes. He did everything he could not to look at her.
She glanced down. Her white blouse was completely sheer and she was cold.
Great. Wonderful. Lovely.
“Well, Cecil is up at the front, so I guess I’ll be going,” she said as she made a quick exit.
Josh was a nice guy. They’d even tried to date once. But discovered there was absolutely no chemistry, which was probably why he was doing his best not to look at her nipples protruding through the sheer fabric of her shirt and nude-colored bra.
Unless she wanted to be the fodder for more town gossip, there would be no party in her future.
The lovely scent of wet dog pervaded her senses as she made the short drive home.
Five minutes later, she turned on the fireplace in the main family area. The front of the place had a Gothic Revival exterior. The back was full of windows. She loved the water. Living near it made her feel close to her dad.
After constantly chasing the next big story, the pace of Tranquil Waters nearly killed her at first. But she’d grown accustomed to the quiet. Her whole life she’d heard Texans were incredibly kind, and they were— However, the ones here didn’t trust outsiders, especially Yankees, of which she was one, having spent most of her formative years in the Northeast.
A hot shower was in order. Then she’d bundle up and see what Mrs. Links, the housekeeper who worried that Macy was wasting away, left in the fridge for dinner. The housekeeper came in three times a week, even though Macy was perfectly capable of cleaning up after herself.
Mrs. Links was another part of her strange inheritance from Uncle Todd. He’d provided for her weekly allowance until the time she no longer needed employment.
Macy didn’t have the heart to ask the nearly seventy-five-year-old woman when that might be. For someone who made a living by asking the tough questions, Macy had a soft spot when it came to animals and her elders.
As the warm water sluiced across Macy’s body, her mind drifted to the marine. Those biceps under her hands were of a man who wasn’t afraid of hard labor. Marines had to stay fit, and she had a feeling he’d have washboard abs, as well.
Men with great abs were her weakness.
You swore off men.
The smell of his fresh, masculine scent. Those hard muscles, the warm smile, even after all he’d been through.
The blood thrummed through her body.
She hadn’t been with a man in what felt like forever. That was all. He was hot, and any other woman would feel the same way after looking into those sweet chocolate-brown eyes.
Turning down the water’s temperature to cool her body, she wondered how long she’d be able to resist the marine.
2
VIOLENT THOUGHTS CROSSED Blake’s mind as Mr. Clooney’s rooster crowed, waking half the town—so much for the extra rest. Shoving the pillow over his head, he closed his eyes and willed himself back to the dream about the woman in the red heels. The rooster crowed again.
“I’ll kill that bird some day,” he growled as he rolled out of bed. Too many years in the military had him up, showered and sipping coffee ten minutes later.
His mother had taped a note to the fridge that said, “Muffins are in the warming drawer. Love, Mom.”
At five in the morning, she’d probably already been at the feed store for at least an hour. She liked to get the paperwork done before the place opened. Even though she didn’t need to be there anymore, she’d insisted on keeping the books and visiting with customers when they came in. She’d built the business from the ground up while his father traveled the world with the military. She believed in having roots and wasn’t much for leaving the town she’d been born in. Their relationship worked, because when they were together, they treated each other as if no one else existed in the world. Well, except for Blake and his brother.
Their parents made certain their boys had an idyllic childhood in the town centered between two lakes. They lived on the edge of town, which had exactly four stoplights, a couple of grocery stores and various shops on the rectangle, as they liked to call it. When the town was first built, there was no real plan. When they finally decided they needed a courthouse it was built in the heart of the rectangle of shops and businesses.
But Tranquil Waters had changed while he was deployed. He remembered laughing about the letters from his mom talking about how the town council had decided that they could have a Dairy Queen and a McDonald’s on the same side of the highway.
They also—thanks to the lakes and artists and writers who populated the town—had a good tourist industry year-round. It was almost Halloween and he hadn’t seen a house yet that hadn’t been decorated. There were several haunted B and B’s and even a large corn maze on the Carins’ pumpkin farm.
Everything seemed so simple in a small town. It didn’t take a CIA spook to find out that the woman he’d run into on the highway was the new publisher of the town newspaper.
“That Yankee girl just doesn’t understand our ways,” complained Mrs. Lawton. “She reported that old Mr. Gunther was thrown in jail Saturday night. Well, everyone knows he’s spent every weekend in that jail cell for the last twenty years. Ever since his sweetheart of a wife, Pearl, passed—God rest her soul—he’s just been longing for her. Poor man. What he needs is a new woman, a younger one to keep his mind off his troubles.”
While she had glanced around at the other women in her circle, Blake had a feeling she wanted to be the new woman to occupy Mr. G’s thoughts. Blake grinned as he sipped his punch. Didn’t matter that she’d just turned eighty-five and Mr. G had to be nearing a hundred.
“She has that huge house, darn near a mansion,” Lady Smith chimed in. Her name was Lady, and for some reason everyone in town called her Lady Smith. Out of respect, and the fact that she was a friend of his mother’s, Blake had once called her Mrs. Smith when he was about ten. She’d scolded him and told him she was a Lady, and he’d do well to remember that in the future.
The town was full of oddballs, and he’d been one of them. As a kid, he’d run around dressed like Davy Crockett for two years and no one had said a word. Apart from his brother, who was more a Spider-Man fan.
“She’s got more money than she knows what to do with. Imagine, putting the paper on the inter—whatever those kids use nowadays,” Lady had complained. “People here like to hold a newspaper in their hands. And she doesn’t seem to understand that there are some stories that just aren’t fit to tell. I’ve written countless letters to the editor, but she never prints or listens to them.” Lady waved her hand in the air dismissively.
“Darn Yankee.”
How dare she tell the truth about Tranquil Waters. The nerve of the woman. Blake found himself chuckling as he rinsed his cup in the sink.
His mother probably didn’t need his help at the feed store. But he didn’t want to sit around stewing. It almost always sent him in the wrong direction.
He wondered where Macy—he’d finally learned her name—might be. Likely still in bed, if she were smart. Any sane person would be at this hour of the morning. Pulling the truck out of the drive, he saw something run past.
Blake blinked a few times and followed the blur.
“It can’t be.”
The monster dog he’d recently stuffed into a car sat on the porch of a white-framed house with a for-sale sign in the yard. The spot was about five blocks from his mom’s house.
The way Harley stared at the door, as if willing it to open, broke his heart. Blake had seen a lot of awful things through the years, but kids and animals in distress were his weaknesses. He’d do anything to protect them.
Macy was right. Unlike a human, the dog couldn’t understand her master was gone.
Exiting the truck slowly, he stepped up the stone path. She glanced back at him, with the saddest puppy eyes. One of the eyes was blue, the other green.
He hadn’t seen her eyes when he’d been dealing with the hindquarters.
“Hey, pretty girl, what’s up?”
He held out his hand, but she turned away from him. Lifting a large paw, she hit the doorknob.
Damn dog. His heart lurched. Not sure what he should do, he sat down on the top step next to her. He could drag her to the truck, but he didn’t have the nerve. If he gained her trust, maybe she’d go willingly. He had a feeling being at the house was about more than just returning to where she felt safe.
“I’ll sit here with you until you decide what you want to do next,” he said softly. He didn’t have anything better to do.
The dog pawed at the door again and growled.
Blake leaned back against the railing. He could have sworn the dog said, “Let me in.”
I am losing it. Now dogs are talking to me.
