One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

“My Civic died a few months ago, didn’t think it was worth mentioning. We can definitely give it a go in this one later if you want, though.” She stepped onto the metal step and propelled herself into the driver’s seat. When he’d settled in and closed his own door, she continued, “Bench seats. Made for love on the run.”

“I will strongly consider that,” he said.

There was something in his tone that made the words an inviting sort of threat. An intimate dare. Too intimate.

She glanced toward his hand, inches from her own, and adjusted her grip on the steering wheel.

“Okay. Now that everybody is feeling refreshed, how are things? How’s leave going?” She backed out of the parking space, heading for the open road.

“Fine. I’ll be excited to get back in the line of duty, though.”

Panic seeped into her every time she so much as considered it, but she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it. So, she got her mind off of their fates the only way she knew how.

“You know, I imagine the blow-up sex dolls are a lot classier when you’re out in the field. They give you those, right? Like, for company?” Stupid jokes.

“What?” He smirked, turning up the corner of his mouth.

Panic was still edging in, so she continued, “You know, like they did in World War II. Don’t they still pass those out? All I’m saying is that face”—she made her eyes wide and formed a large O with her mouth—“could be a real comfort to you.”

“How do you even know about all this stuff?”

She raised her eyebrows at him before turning her attention back to the road. “I’ve been a photographer for a few years now. When you freelance, you see a lot of weird stuff.”

There was a momentary lull before Holden spoke again.

“So, do you still live in the same place, or are you going to park in front of your old complex and see if we can get into the pool before you tell me that it’s now a nuclear waste dumping site?”

“Cute. No, I live in the same place. It just blows now that Myla isn’t in the same complex.” She shrugged. “At least she’s happy with Stone Blanchett or whatever they call him on that soap opera of his.”

“Yeah. It’s weird seeing her on magazines when I go into town. Of all the people to wind up on the news, my money had always been on you.” He treated her to a mischievous grin, and she had half a mind to pull over on the spot and have her wicked way with him. Still, there was something penetrating in his gaze that gave her pause. A knowingness that unsettled her.

“Me? On the news? For what, a Miss America pageant?”

“Arson conviction. Grand theft auto. I had a few theories.”

“That’s for amateurs. I’m like a fine bottle of stolen wine when it comes to law breaking.” She waved him off with a sigh of relief. Back to jokes and insults. This was the way things were supposed to be between them. The way they always had been.

He snorted.

She exhaled before parking in front of her familiar, run-down brick building. “If I wanted judgment, I’d have stayed with Myla.”

In the space it took her to unbuckle and open the door, Holden had already joined her. Apparently stealthy moving was no joke in the Marines. She was about to say as much but was interrupted as he pressed the entire length of his body flush with hers, holding her wrists against the door in a strong, sexy grip. All of his muscles bore down on her, spreading warmth through every fiber of her being.

God, he felt good…

“I think my presence has some added benefits that Myla can’t offer.” The panic, so familiar when he was around, ratcheted up a few more notches.

She broke away and ducked under his arm like an old pro.

Too close.

She had to create some kind of space. Room to breathe. If she didn’t, she might lose her head. And her resolve. And become emotionally involved. “Normally, you’d be right. Unless she’s drunk. Speaking of which, I have a story to tell you.” She winked, trying to distract him from her shaking breath.

Damned if this one week in paradise wasn’t going to be a hell of a lot harder than any she’d shared with Holden before. And she wasn’t exactly sure why.

Chapter Four

“Rodrigo, here kitty, kitty,” Avery called as she opened the apartment door and strutted inside. Holden followed her, his bag slung over one shoulder as he took in her place. In a sense, it wasn’t all that different from the last time he’d visited. That was to say, it was a total wreck.