A Word With The Bachelor

“Don’t patronize me,” he said.

“I’m sorry you feel I’m doing that. It wasn’t my intention.” She stopped for a moment, thinking, as if to come up with the right words to make him understand. “I respect your commitment to responsibility in writing the book you want to write. But I have undertaken this assignment and Cheryl is expecting tangible results. I’m not backing down from the challenge of you. It’s best you accept that. So, we have to start somewhere.”

“And you think talking about the story is the way to go.”

“It worked for Corinne.” She folded her hands in her lap. “If you have a better idea that would be awesome.”

“Look, I appreciate your willingness and enthusiasm.” Although he could think of better uses for it. “But I write action-adventure. A woman like you has no frame of reference for that so talking is a complete waste of time.”

“I haven’t been in the military or gone to war if that’s what you’re saying. But I read extensively and go to the movies. I can help you dissect the plot. I have ideas and that can be helpful.”

He’d started his last book as a therapeutic exercise to work through all the crap life had thrown at him. Pulling that stuff up was like exposing his soul. Doing that with her just wasn’t going to happen. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want her to see the darkness inside him.

“Ideas?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the unnaturally tidy top of his desk. “You’re Pollyanna. No offense, but you can’t possibly have suggestions for what I write.”

“Really?” She sat up straighter in the chair, almost literally stiffening her spine.

“In my opinion, yes.”

“It’s hard to form an opinion without information and you don’t know anything about me if you truly believe I’ve had no life experiences.”

“So you were engaged. There was a proposal. Probably a ring. Not a big deal.” He saw something slip into her eyes but it didn’t stop him. He’d been engaged once, too, even took the next step and got married. It didn’t work out for a lot of reasons, but mostly he wasn’t very good at being a husband. “Since you used past tense I guess you broke up with him. Still not gritty—”

“He died. Whether it happens in a war zone or the home front, death is not pretty. It’s raw and painful. I think that qualifies as life experience.”

He studied her and realized his mission, real or invented, had been successful. He’d managed to put clouds in her eyes and make the sunshine disappear.

Damned if he didn’t want to undo what he’d just done.

Chapter Two

Erin sat in the passenger seat of Jack’s rugged jeep trying to figure him out. First he’d said he had no use for her, then later in the afternoon offered to take her into town. She had a long-term rental car from the airport and was prepared to shop on her own, but he’d insisted on driving. His excuse was that they might as well buy supplies together, but she had a sneaking suspicion there was another reason. One that would tarnish his tough-guy image.

“So, Jack,” she began, “I think your ogre act is just that. An act.”

He turned right onto Lakeview Drive, then gave her a quick, questioning look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were all gruff and abrupt earlier. Patronizing me about a ring, a proposal and a broken engagement being the equivalent of a hangnail in the action-adventure world.”

“It is.” His profile could have been carved in stone on Mt. Rushmore. It was all sharp angles and hard lines.

“But when I corrected your assumption that I was shallow and typical by revealing that I lost someone close to me, I think you felt bad about jumping to conclusions and invited me to go shopping to make up for it.”

There was another glance in her direction before he returned his gaze to the road. “In the army I operated on gut instinct and never second-guessed my actions.”

“That was training for combat situations. In the regular world you replay a conversation and sometimes regret responses. It’s normal. You asked me to go shopping because you can’t take back what you said and are trying to be nice.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.” She adjusted her sunglasses. It was a beautiful day in late September and this road to town went around the lake. The surface of the water sparkled like diamonds as the sun sank lower in the cloudless blue sky. “The problem is that your nice muscles haven’t been stretched in a while.”

“You know what I think?”

“Not a clue,” she said, wishing she could see his eyes behind those too-sexy-for-words aviator sunglasses. “But I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“Damn straight.” He looked over, his mouth pulled into a straight line. “I think you’re a fugitive from fantasyland.”

That would be a step up for her after nursing Garrett through cancer and watching him take his last breath. “Oh?”

“I’m not a nice man. If you were smart, you’d ditch this job and get the hell out of here. Away from me.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“You think I’m fragile and I think you’re a fraud. So what we have here is a standoff.”

“Guess so,” he said. “Sooner or later one of us is going to blink and it won’t be me.”

“Sounds like a challenge or a treaty to me. Maybe both.” It was going to take a lot of convincing to make her believe he was as unfeeling as he wanted her to think he was.

“For the record, it makes good sense to coordinate shopping since you’ll be doing the cooking and don’t know what Harley likes.”

That made her smile. Big bad warrior was hiding behind the world’s most unattractive dog. But she just said, “Understood.”

“You hungry?” The words were unexpected, but they were nearing the Blackwater Lake city limits.

“Starving.”

“Me, too. Let’s get something to eat.” He glanced over quickly as if checking to see whether or not she’d noticed him being nice. “Grocery shopping will go easier that way.”

“I think so, too.” And that’s the first time they’d agreed on anything in the last twenty-four hours.

He stopped the jeep at a stand-alone building near the end of Main Street, not far from city hall. There was a sign on the outside that read Bar None, with crossed cocktail glasses on it.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “I’m driving you to drink.”

“You said it, not me.” But his teeth flashed in a fleeting smile before he got out of the car.

Erin opened her door and slid to the ground, then met him on the sidewalk. The wooden exterior was reminiscent of a miner’s shack and the heavy oak door had a vertical brass handle. Jack grabbed it and pulled the door open for her.

The pulse in her neck jumped as she passed him and walked inside. Heat from his body was enough to sizzle her senses and short them out. That was probably the reason it seemed to take longer than usual for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dim interior after being outside.

“This looks nice,” she finally said.

“It’s okay.”

Lining the walls were booths with leather seats and lantern-shaped lights. Dark beams ran the length of the ceiling and old wooden planks covered the floor. An oak bar with a brass footrail commanded the center of the room.

“Table or booth?”

She scanned the bistro tables scattered over the floor. “Where do you usually sit?”

“At the bar.”

She should have guessed and would have if she wasn’t standing so close to Jack. Worn jeans, gray hoodie over tight black T-shirt, scuffed boots. This was as much a uniform for him as the camouflage he’d no doubt worn in the military. He’d been so right about what she was thinking yesterday. Not so much about sleeping with him, although she’d gotten as far as wondering what he looked like naked. But she found him incredibly hot and was mortified that he’d been able to see that.

Now she needed to conceal the fact that her instantaneous attraction had not yet run its course, or she’d be risking losing this job.

“The bar it is.” She followed him across the room.

It was closing in on five o’clock and there were only a handful of people in the place. Jack headed for the bar and took a seat on one of the stools beside a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man in a khaki uniform.

“Hey, Sheriff,” he said. “I see you changed your mind about leaving town.”

The man smiled and held out his hand. “Good to see you. Been a while, Jack. If you came around more, you’d know that my dad retired and I’m now the head lawman in town.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Erin managed to haul herself up on the stool next to him. Her legs were short; the chairs were high. It wasn’t graceful. Jack looked at her then at the sheriff, but said nothing.

“Hi,” the man said to her. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

She reached an arm in front of Jack and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Erin Riley.”

“Will Fletcher,” he said.

A beautiful blue-eyed redhead walked over to them and stopped on the other side of the bar. “If it isn’t Blackwater Lake’s famous author.”

“Hi, Delanie.”

The woman looked from Jack to Erin and waited expectantly. Apparently she got tired of waiting because she asked, “Who’s your friend?”

“Erin Riley.” He rested his forearms on the bar. “And we’re not friends.”

“Nice to meet you, Erin.” Delanie stared at Jack. “So, if you’re not friends, what are you?”

The silence grew as all of them stared at Jack, waiting for clarification. He finally shrugged and said, “That’s a good question.”

Erin jumped in. “I’m his research assistant.”

“Okay, then. What can I get you two?” Delanie asked. “Food? Drinks?”

“I’d like to see a menu, please. And a glass of chardonnay would be lovely.”

“You got it.” The woman grabbed two plastic-covered sheets containing the food choices and set them in front of her and Jack. Then she opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass, putting it on a napkin in front of Erin. “Beer, Jack?”

“The usual.”

“How long have you been in town?” Sheriff Fletcher asked.

“A day. So far I haven’t seen much except the lake and marina. And Main Street. But Blackwater Lake is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”

“Where are you from?” Delanie used a rag to wipe nonexistent spots from the bar.

“Phoenix.” The bar owner and the sheriff were nodding as if that explained a lot. “Don’t judge. There’s a beauty in the Arizona desert, too, it’s just different. I actually haven’t done much traveling, though, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“So, you’re a research assistant?” Sitting at the bar, the sheriff leaned his forearms on the edge of the oak. “Is that a permanent arrangement?”

Erin looked at Jack and he didn’t seem inclined to answer so she was forced to wing it. “Not permanent. Just for the book in progress. I freelance and in between assignments I work as a substitute high school English teacher.”

“So you’re overqualified to read that menu,” Jack said.

She got his point. He was hungry and wanted to get this over with. After scanning the list of options she said, “I’d like a club sandwich and side salad.”

Jack never even looked at the choices. “Burger and fries.”

“Coming right up,” Delanie said, then disappeared in the back.

The sheriff stood and dropped some bills on the bar. “Good to see you, Jack. Don’t be a stranger. Welcome, Erin. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Blackwater Lake. It is a pretty place. Take it from me. I left for a lot of years, but couldn’t stay away. There are good people here.”

“I look forward to meeting them.”

“What’s your hurry, Sheriff?” Jack hadn’t been particularly social so the question was unexpected.

“I have paperwork to finish up at the office. Then I’m taking April out to dinner.”

“Is that your wife?” Erin asked.

“Fiancée.” Will Fletcher’s rugged features softened when he smiled. “But us getting married is long overdue. We’re making plans to rectify that. Can’t be soon enough for me.”

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Thanks. Good luck with the book, Jack.”

Erin had a feeling she was the one who needed luck helping Jack with the manuscript. His cooperation would be a good place to start. “He seems nice.”

“I suppose.”

“He said people are friendly. Have you met a lot of folks since you’ve been here?”

“No.”

“Have you made an effort?”

“No.”

“I’m going out on a limb here and say that everyone you’ve become acquainted with has been a customer here at Bar None.”

There was a challenge in his eyes when he met her gaze. “So?”

“Have you ever heard the saying that ‘no man is an island’? You have to reach out and meet people halfway. On top of that, writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You have to fill up the creative well. That happens with experiences and to have those, being sociable helps.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” she said.

“And, Erin?”

“Yes?”

“It occurs to me that the armed forces of the United States don’t need to stockpile weapons. All the brass needs to do is turn you loose on the enemy to talk them to death.”

She wondered whether or not to be offended by that, then decided one of them needed to be an optimist. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

* * *

The morning after taking her to town, Jack went upstairs to his office, leaving Erin in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. She was a good cook. If his editor ever spoke to him again he’d have to thank her for that. The omelet, fruit, toast and coffee was the best morning meal he’d had in a long time. Whatever he threw together was maybe one step above the army’s MREs—meals ready to eat.

He turned on his laptop and opened the file “Mac Daniels,” which was the name of his ex-army ranger, Special Forces hero. After reading through the pages he’d written, he said, “This sucks.”

If the pages had been printed out, he’d have wadded them up and tossed the balls of paper across the room. They weren’t and he deleted them. Right now he’d take a black ops mission over this. But army rangers never quit and he was literally on borrowed time with this project. After he’d left the military and his wife left him, he’d been pretty sure that being a soldier was the only thing he was good at.

Then he wrote a bestselling novel and the publisher wanted the second book on the two-book contract he’d signed, but he was late turning it in. What if he was a one-hit wonder? Maybe he was only good at soldiering. If he had to throw in the towel on this book, that would prove he’d been right.

The sheriff’s words from yesterday drifted through his mind.

“Work in progress, my ass,” he mumbled. He didn’t need luck as much as inspiration.

There was a knock on the door and since he used the living room of the upstairs apartment for his office, technically the knock was on the office door. If he said nothing, would she go away?

Erin opened it and poked her head in. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

Nine on the dot. It was as if she was punching a time clock. Harley ran inside and settled in his bed next to the desk. Little traitor had been hanging out with her.

Instead of inspiration, what he got was another challenge. “I work alone.”

“Not any more” was what he expected out of her but that’s not what she said.

“Let’s talk about the book.” She moved in front of the desk.

It was exactly what she’d said yesterday. “I’m a writer, not a talker.”

A look crossed her face that said she’d noticed. “Tell me about the story. This is the sequel to High Value Target, so the hero is Mac Daniels.”

He nodded an answer, if only to prove that he was telling the truth about the writer-versus-talker thing.

She tilted her head and shiny, gold-streaked brown hair slid over her shoulder. “I’m curious. When you named this character, did you mean for it to rhyme with Jack Daniel’s, the whiskey? An inside joke? Or was it coincidence?”

Sharp girl, he thought. But the only answer he gave her was a small smile.

“Okay then. Moving on.” She settled a hip on the corner of the desk and met his gaze. “I read the first book. Mac was a reluctant hero and took down the bad guys. What is his goal in this book?”

Jack wanted to squirm and this is where Ranger training came in handy, other than a war zone, of course. He’d learned how to stay in one position without moving for hours. “Mac is trying to stay alive.”

“It’s a good goal.” She thought for a moment. “So who or what is standing in his way?”

“You mean who’s after him?”

“Is someone after him? If so, why?”

Jack was still working out those details. It was what he did. On his own. This was his work-in-progress. His office. And that reminded him. “Look, Erin, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Okay. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I’m not comfortable with this arrangement.”

“And I’m not leaving.” Her eyes flashed and her expression was locked and loaded on stubborn.

“No. I meant you bunking down up here.” With unfettered access to his office. On top of that, the whole place was now filled with the scent of sunlight and flowers. And...her. How was he supposed to concentrate when his work space smelled like a girl?

“If you’d like I can pitch a tent outside,” she said with more than a little sarcasm.

Jack wondered if that look on her face frightened the teenage boys in her English classes. It sure didn’t work on him. For over ten years his job had been about dealing with life-and-death conflicts. Erin Riley didn’t intimidate him at all.

“That won’t be necessary.” Although the idea was interesting, she didn’t look like an outdoors kind of woman. More a hotel-and-happy-hour type. When she’d shown up and made it clear she wasn’t leaving, he’d figured the spare room up here would be best. It wasn’t. “I’d like to move you into the spare room downstairs.”

“I don’t want to throw your routine off—”

“Too late.” He leaned back in his chair. “The thing is, if I want to work during the night, I wouldn’t want to wake you.”

“Whatever you want.”

Jack happened to be looking at her mouth when she said that and the words turned into something that was a very bad idea. “Okay, then. Your job is to move your things to the spare bedroom downstairs.”

“And afterward?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t have much. That won’t take very long. I’m here to assist. Tell me how to do that.”

Yesterday at Bar None she’d introduced herself as his research assistant. That gave him an idea. “You know, it would help if you looked some things up for me.”

“Great.” That put the splashes of gold back in her green eyes. “What?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and pack your stuff up and take it downstairs. I’ll have a list ready when you’re finished.”

“Okay.”

Erin disappeared down the hall but unfortunately the scent of her skin lingered in his work space. Later he would figure out how to man this place up again, but right now he had to do something to keep her busy and out of his hair.

Jack searched gold and diamonds on Google, figuring either one could put Mac Daniels’s life on the line. As he browsed, something caught his eye. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Say it with diamonds.

Erin came back into his office with her rolling suitcase and a bag she held in her hand. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever made her smell so good was in the little one.

“I’ve got everything,” she said cheerfully.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Told you it wouldn’t.” She headed for the door.

“Do you need help with those bags?”

“No. You keep working. I’ll be back shortly to help.”

Jack waited for the door to close and noted that Harley stayed where he was in his bed. “Good move, buddy. Never bite the hand that feeds you.”

He typed in some more search words and scrolled through articles, information and sources for all the material. It was interesting stuff, not relevant to his writing, but she might get something out of the research. He printed out a list of topics then went back to his Mac Daniels file.

“What am I going to do with you?” he said to the blank screen, where his fictional character waited for a story. “You’ve been out of the military for a while and all you’re good at is war and training for it. In the first book an old girlfriend sucked you into using those skills. You can handle yourself in a fight because you’re trained to beat the crap out of bad guys. Now what?”

Except for the ex-girlfriend-rescue part that pretty much described himself, not Mac Daniels. Jack made a disgusted sound then leaned back in his chair. He was a piece of work, talking to himself. Well, not technically, since Harley was here, but too close for comfort. At least he knew his own flaws and keeping them to himself was the best way to control them.

There was a knock at the door then Erin poked her head in the room and smiled. “I’m back.”

“Like the Terminator,” he mumbled.

“I love that movie.”

“Really?” He pegged her as more of a romantic-comedy type.

“Yes. You know romance is at the heart of the story.”

“No pun intended.”

She smiled. “What woman wouldn’t want to hear, ‘I came across time for you, Sarah.’”

Jack had never met a woman he’d want to time-travel for. But that was the best segue he could have hoped for. He pulled the sheet from his printer and held it out. “Your research topics.”

“Right. I can’t wait to get started.” She took the paper and scanned it. To her credit, her perk factor only slipped a little.

The average person probably wouldn’t have noticed. Jack was surprised that he had.

Her gaze settled on his and the vivid green was back. “The fine art of romantic talk?”

“Dialogue.”

She glanced down at the paper. “A hundred and one ways to be romantic?”

“Mac spent a lot of time in a war zone.” He shrugged as if to say that explained all.

“Understanding the female mind?”

“If he ever wants to get lucky, Mac might need some help.”

There was a skeptical look on her face—she was suspicious and just a little annoyed. “These topics are important for an action-adventure book...why?”

Jack realized she’d already given him the answer to that question. “The Terminator effect.”

“As it happens, women don’t typically understand the male mind, either. I need more than that to connect the dots.”

“You said you like the movie because there’s a romance at the heart. It crosses genres and broadens the appeal.”

“And?” One eyebrow rose.

“Maybe if Mac has a relationship it could expand my readership to women.”

Her eyes narrowed and the I’ve-got-your-number look was back. “You don’t fool me, Jack.”

“I wasn’t trying to.” Did a half truth make something an out-and-out lie?

“Oh, please. This is you patting me on the head and telling me to run along.”

“Not true.”

“So in all of your own experience you’ve never sweet-talked a woman? Never made a romantic gesture? Or two?”

“Hard to say. I tried.” With his ex-wife. But he didn’t think she left him for lack of romance because she stayed for years while he went through numerous deployments. She left when he didn’t re-up with the army. “But does a guy really know if he hit it out of the park with a woman?”

“You really don’t know how to read people?”

“Hence the research for understanding the female mind,” he pointed out.

She made a show of folding the paper and sticking it in the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll do the research. But don’t for a second believe that I don’t know what you’re up to. This is all about keeping me at a distance.”

Jack didn’t get a chance to respond because she turned and walked out of his office. Just as well. He needed to get to work. And she was wrong about his goal. The phony research wasn’t to keep her at a distance, but to keep her in the dark about the fact that he didn’t have a story. With luck he could fix the problem before she figured out what was going on.