Falling for the Enemy (11 page)

He stared down at her from the distance of his braced arms, and then turned his head and placed a kiss on the inside of her left knee, and then her right. Both sat in easy range of his lips, because somewhere along the line, one of them had hitched her legs over his shoulders. He relaxed his arms and brought his body down to hers in a slow, controlled descent. “A drive. With me. Friday.”

She lowered her legs and wrapped them around his waist for the sheer thrill of holding him to her a little longer, enjoying the weight of his body pressed to hers. “Where?”

“Out to the Browning farm.”

Her heart kicked up a little at the invitation, inadvisable as it was. How would it look if people spotted them hanging out together? Questions would be raised, to say the least. She snuggled her face against his neck and inhaled the warm, slightly woodsy scent of his skin. “Uh-oh. Sounds like somebody’s been talking to Tyler.”

He untied her wrists, wrapped an arm around her, and rolled until he’d reversed their positions. “I have. We finished my roof this afternoon and I went over and checked out the site. Longfoot told me they still need hands, so I’m going to join his crew and put some work in on the restoration.”

His tone remained casual, but she could tell he was excited…or at least interested. A little bubble of happiness floated up into her chest. Working with those guys would do him good. Get him out of his own head. “I’m glad you’re going to lend a hand on the Browning place. Everybody in town is looking forward to seeing how the project turns out, including me. The farm is a piece of Bluelick’s history, and it’s been left rotting on its foundations for too long.” She darted a glance at him, and then traced the letters of his tattoo. “Plus, I like thinking about you out there, all shirtless and sweaty, with Tyler and Junior and the rest of their team.”

“Spend a lot of time thinking about me shirtless and sweaty, do you?”

More than she should. “Don’t let it go to your head. To be honest, what I really like is the idea of you among a group of people, instead of holed up in your cabin all by yourself.”

“I’m fine on my own. With a rare exception or two”—he leaned down and kissed her where her shoulder met her neck—“I prefer my own company.”

“I doubt that. You went to boarding school, and then Annapolis, then the SEALs. You’re used to living, training, and working as a team. You’ve been doing it over half your life. This wall-of-privacy thing you’ve got going is new for you, not the norm.”

His expression told her she’d blindsided him with the insight. It shouldn’t have bothered her. A lot of people discounted her as nothing more than a good-time girl and a gossip—Tom, for one—but she’d hoped she rated a bit higher with Shaun.

“Maybe I hit my limit on group participation, and now I’ve swung to the other end of the spectrum?”

“Nope.” She forced the weight of disappointment off her chest and concentrated on him. “The fallout from your last mission and a difficult transition to civilian life shoved you to the other end of the spectrum, but you won’t stay there forever. Despite what you say, part of you wants to be around people. That’s why you sneak into the back of church and watch the service, or walk downtown for no reason.”

He gave her a long, assessing look, and then his mouth quirked up in a small grin. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”

“Hardly.” She nudged his foot with hers. “For instance, I can’t for the life of me figure out why you want to go out to the Browning estate tomorrow evening, with me.”

“Because everybody in town is looking forward to seeing how the project turns out, including you. I figured you might enjoy a preview. It’s a pretty property, even with the main buildings under construction. The crew clocks out at four, so if we arrive around sunset we’ll have the place to ourselves. I’ll bring some sandwiches, and a blanket. We’ll douse ourselves with Off, have a picnic by the pond, and watch the stars come out.”

“Sounds very peaceful.”

“Some of it would be,” he agreed, “but you should also prepare for some vigorous moments.” His big hand found her butt and squeezed playfully.

Yeah, and afterwards, he’d drop her off on her doorstep and drive home to sleep in his own bed, because God forbid he so much as nap at her place. In theory, his habit of leaving worked out for the best. The last thing she needed was Ms. Van Hendler getting an eyeful of Shaun stumbling out her door at dawn. A tidbit like that would travel down every spiraling branch of the local grapevine faster than she could say “lost credibility.” But in practice, waking up to an empty bed sucked. At least it did now, for some reason.

The solution seemed simple enough to her. She could spend the night at
his
place, because the cabin offered all the privacy anybody could want. The only thing standing in her way was lack of an invitation. And that stung. It also left her conflicted about this invitation. Was this a date? Was he attempting to share something of himself with her, or let her into his life by taking her to a place he’d be spending significant amounts of time and energy? Or was he just down for some outdoor adventures?

Because she didn’t know, and pride forbade her from asking, she rolled off him, stretched, and dodged the issue. “Tyler’s got his hands full right now, between rehabbing the horse farm, and basically rebuilding Josh and Melody’s house from the ground up after crazy Rusty Deemer burned it down.”

The look Shaun sent her told her he’d noticed her retreat, but he didn’t call her on it. “I heard about that. Fireman arsonist, right here in Bluelick.”

“It’s one of the reasons I’m running for mayor. The sheriff’s department dragged its feet on the investigation. They refused to take the first incidents seriously, even after Josh told them he suspected arson. He had to force them to do their job.” She managed to refrain from adding,
And your father did everything he could to stop Josh from pushing on them, including threatening to fire him
.

“Don’t think much of the organization, huh?”

“Maybe they do a fine job for the rest of the county, but they treat us like the red-headed stepchild. It’s not like we demand a lot of attention and resources—normally things around here are pretty quiet—but when we have a problem, we deserve to have them take it seriously, not just go through the motions. A local police department would provide the support we need, at equal or better cost.”

A memory niggled at her. The night Justin…er…correction, an unidentified person, had sprayed graffiti on her wall, Shaun had been the one to insist she call the sheriffs, and he’d been on a first-name basis with both deputies. “You seemed familiar with the deputies who came out to take the report. Why was that?”

He rubbed his palm over his jaw. “I almost joined the department.”

That piece of news surprised her enough to have her sitting up and reaching for her robe. It figured. They were already ridiculously wrong for each other. Him serving the institution she’d made it a cornerstone of her campaign to displace was about the only thing that could possibly make them a more inappropriate couple. “Almost?”

“I applied shortly after I got out of the SEALs, and got an offer, contingent upon me completing training at the academy in Rochester. Your buddy Trent and I were in the same class.”

And yet he wasn’t a member of the department. She had a hard time imagining he washed out of the police academy. Physically, he could tackle anything. Heck, she owed life and limb to his quick instincts and reflexes. He was up to date on technology and had a solid tactical background thanks to the SEALs. Law enforcement seemed perfect for him. “So, what happened at the academy to change your mind?”

He frowned at the ceiling. “Nothing. I completed my eighteen weeks, no problem. But getting the slot was competitive, and at graduation I overheard some people talking about how I got bumped to the front of the line of candidates because Tom put in a word with the sheriff. I didn’t ask him to do that, and hadn’t realized he’d pulled any strings, but when I asked him, he admitted he had.” He glanced over to her and shrugged. “I decided not to swear in.”

Damn Tom Buchanan and his good-old-boy networking ways. Still, she figured his heart had been in the right place. He’d wanted to help his son. Misguided, sure, but understandable. “Don’t let pride stand in the way of something you want. Maybe Tom opened a door for you, but you still had to walk through. You did work and complete the training. You earned the job.”

“I like the way you think, but unfortunately the logic doesn’t hold. At least one other applicant never got a shot at the academy because he didn’t have a daddy with the juice to get him in the door. I appreciate what Tom was trying to do, and, frankly, I should have suspected something when I got the slot right off the bat—one, because I know my father, and two, because local budgets being what they are, I ought to have realized there was a waiting list of candidates I was magically leapfrogging.”

“But—”

“Relax, sweet Virginia, I’m not brokenhearted over my decision.” He brushed his thumb over the space between her brows, where she knew her consternation always showed. “I earned my place at Annapolis, just like the rest of my classmates. Nobody opened any doors for me. I earned my slot on my SEAL team. I earned every rank and commendation I ever received. When it comes right down to it, I’m not interested in joining an organization that operates on anything less than talent, effort, and accomplishment. The sheriff’s department doesn’t meet those standards.” He shrugged again, folded his arm behind his head and settled back against the pillow. “It’s not the place for me.”

She admired his standards, but where did they leave him? “Where is the place for you?” The question came out soft, because she knew he was still figuring that out, and the answer might not involve Bluelick. A fact she’d known from the start, but let herself push to the background along with all the other reasons getting involved with him was such a bad idea.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, and she noticed the tension in his jaw and the grim set of his mouth. “I didn’t think much of the way the sheriff’s department operated, but the underlying work appealed to me, and, frankly, I’m good at it. Bigger law enforcement agencies are the ones hiring most regularly right now, so I submitted applications in Atlanta, Cincinnati, and a few other places, but it could be months before I hear anything.”

He looked so…remote. He’d grown up here, had family here, but in a lot of ways, this man was an island. No. Not true. An island, at least, stayed in one place. Shaun could be moving on as soon as a job offer came through. Important new fact to keep in mind, as if she needed another reason why Shaun Buchanan and Virginia Boca did not have a future.

But you have the here and now
. She reached over and rested her hand on his chest. His attention immediately shifted to her. He returned the favor, slowly cupping her breast, before moving his hand down her body. Her heart raced as he closed in on one of his favorite destinations.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, closed her eyes, and groaned in anticipation of a Navy SEAL invasion.

His voice reached her ears a moment before the assault commenced. “I think, for the moment, I’m right where I’m needed most.”

Chapter Twelve

Shaun left his Jeep in the circular driveway of his childhood home, next to Justin’s Mustang, and walked into the empty hall. The silence suggested Tom and Brandi weren’t around and Justin was probably bunkered in his room. Fine with him. He had a few minutes to spare before he picked Ginny up at her place, given she’d asked him not to arrive before Ms. Van Hendler left for Bingo night at the senior center. But he wasn’t itching to spend them with any members of his family. That wasn’t why he was here.

The cloak-and-dagger measures Ginny asked of him were beginning to chafe. He wanted to write it off as impatience with the inconvenience, but the truth tipped more toward discontent with her treating their association like some kind of back-alley booty call. Totally out of line, because she’d been upfront about her concerns from the start, and he’d signed up for this, but logic didn’t change the fact that he wanted…hell…he didn’t know. More. Which scared the shit out of him on a number of levels, the most obvious being he didn’t have more to offer. An unemployed ex-SEAL with the wrong last name and no solid plan for his future? Yeah, that would really tempt her.

He held no illusions about what tempted her where he was concerned. Mind-blowing sex, and plenty of it. He might be drifting in a lot of areas of his life, but this was one purpose he could actually fulfill, so he’d maintain the veil of secrecy.
You don’t much want to be a topic of conversation in Bluelick either
, he reminded himself. Waiting to pick her up until after her neighbor went to Bingo didn’t cost them much in terms of time, and served both their goals.

The delay worked to his benefit, as it turned out, since it gave him enough time to swing by the homestead and select a beverage for their picnic. She liked white wine, and Tom had a nicer selection in his cellar than Boone’s Market offered. He’d left his dad a voicemail assuring him he’d replace whatever he helped himself to on his next trip to Lexington.

He cut through the kitchen, did a quick check of the bottles chilling in the under-cabinet wine fridge and grimaced. Somebody liked lower-shelf Asti Spumanti, and he had no problem picturing Brandi sucking it down while watching TMZ or whatever passed for news in her world.

Back in the hall, he took the door to the basement. Down the stairs, past the main room with the carved, antique pool table his father had taught him to play on, an air-hockey table he didn’t recognize, and a new U-shaped sectional positioned in front of a huge, wall-mounted flat-screen. A bunch of video equipment and gaming consoles blinked from a glass-fronted cabinet beneath the TV. In a far corner sat the old poker table around which Tom had hosted weekly games when Shaun was a kid.

Something suspiciously close to sadness settled in his chest. Tom had financed the perfect family room, and some no-doubt overpriced designer had brought the fantasy to life, but here it sat, dead as a tomb on a Friday night. Back in the day, Tom would have ordered pizza, his mom would have fired up the popcorn machine, and they all would have come down here to watch a movie. No way did the current version of the Buchanan family gather on the pristine, untouched sectional to talk, laugh, and play Xbox. Even sadder, if they did, he’d want no part of it.

He rolled his shoulders to shrug off the depressing thought and headed into the wine cellar. Just a fancy, temperature-controlled closet really, but along with the reds racked against the walls, it boasted a cabinet of hard stuff, and, in a small alcove behind the door, his target. A full-sized wine refrigerator.

He’d just poked his head into the fridge when the door opened behind him. He watched, undetected, as Justin strolled over to the far wall. The teenager produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket and opened the liquor cabinet.

Fucking awesome
. Yes, pilfering the parental liquor was a time-honored teenager tradition, but why did it have to happen right at the moment he was pilfering the parental liquor? Shaun waited until the kid had a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black in each hand, and then stepped out from the alcove.

“Can I see some ID?”

Justin bobbled one of the bottles, lost his grip, and jumped back as it shattered on the sealed concrete floor.

“Motherfucker!” He put the other bottle on the cabinet and turned to fume at Shaun. “You scared the shit out of me. Look what you made me do.”

“It gets even worse, ’cause I’m going to make you put the other bottle back, hand over the keys, and clean up the mess.”

Justin’s chin came out. “Or what? You’ll tell on me?”

“I’m going to tell on you anyway. The only uncertain outcome involves whether my foot goes up your ass or not. If you prefer not, then”—he held out his hand for the keys—“hand those over and find a mop.”

The teenager tossed the keys on the ground and stomped off. Shaun prayed for patience, picked up the keys, and locked the cabinet. Then he turned back to the fridge and made his choice—a nice Napa Valley chardonnay. He tucked it under his arm and waited. A minute later Justin clomped back into the room, carrying a broom with a dustpan clipped on the end and a kitchen towel. He shot Shaun a nasty look, but got to work sweeping up the broken bottle. Silence, it turned out, was too much to hope for.

“You are a total, thieving hypocrite, coming down on me when you’re doing the exact same thing. If you tell Dad about this, don’t think I’m not going to tell him you stole his precious wine.”

“Go ahead and tell him. There are two major differences between your situation and mine. First, I don’t have to sneak around because Tom already knows I’m here, second—and this is crucial—I happen to be of legal drinking age.”

“You happen to be an asshole,” Justin muttered and dumped the broken glass into the trash bin tucked between the liquor cabinet and the wine racks. “And you drink like a pussy. White wine is for chicks.”

Shaun leaned against the wine fridge, crossed his ankles and got comfortable as Justin started mopping up scotch with the towel. “Thank you, Robert Parker.”

To his surprise, Justin connected the dots. “Jesus.” The teen faked a shudder. “It
is
for a chick. You have a date. My mind is blown. Mr. Social is going to take a break from whatever the hell you do out there in the woods—clutch your Medal of Honor and jack off.”

He laughed. Little brother definitely had a mouth on him. He could spew venom like a viper.

The kid smirked and wrung the towel out in the trash can. “First the haircut, now a date. Should have known.” He went back to wiping the floor. “Who would date you?”

“None of your business.”

“This can’t be too hard to figure out. You don’t
know
anybody. All you’ve done since you’ve been back is hang around the cabin, show up in my life at the worst possible moments, and…oh fuck…haircut.” He dropped the towel and looked up. “It’s the redhead, isn’t it?”

Wonderful. Justin could be Sherlock-fucking-Holmes when he put his mind to it. “Hmm. Last time we discussed this—about five seconds ago—I believe I said it was none of your business. Nothing’s changed.”

Justin picked up the towel and gave the cement a few more swipes. “Man, Dad is going to shit a brick. She’s like, enemy number one around this house. But I’d do her. She’s so freaking hot, running around town in her tight little jogging shorts. You can tell she wants it, and one of these days I’m going to give that firecrotch a—hey!”

His hand found the collar of Justin’s polo shirt and he hauled the kid to his feet before he fully realized what he was doing. When two wide, alarmed eyes locked on his, he transferred his grasp to the front of Justin’s shirt and dragged him in until their faces were inches apart. Then he slammed him against the door and wedged his knee into Justin’s balls forcefully enough that the kid turned white.

“You stay the hell away from her. Got it? You come near her, or her salon, or anything having to do with her, and you are going to be in a world of hurt. World. Of. Hurt.” With each word, he increased the pressure of his knee in Justin’s groin. When those wide, panicked eyes started to roll, Shaun released him.

Justin stumbled, caught himself on the liquor cabinet, and scrambled to his feet. “Get the hell off me, you pervert.” He side-stepped toward the door, staying out of Shaun’s reach. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m
advising
you. If you’re smart, you’ll listen. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you got away with something the other night, because—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Shaun would never be able to prove anything based on one offensive word, but he could do his best to scare the kid from trying anything else. “I mean it, Justin. Don’t go near her, or her salon. It won’t end well for you.”

“You’re out of your friggin’ mind. Section eight or whatever the hell they call it.”

And with that brotherly parting sentiment, he slipped out the door.

…

Ginny adjusted her sunglasses and admired Shaun’s profile while green hills divided by white wooden fences zipped past. He had the top off the Jeep and the windows down. She watched the breeze blow his hair over his forehead and made a mental note to give him a trim the next time she had her scissors handy. The warm summer evening couldn’t have been more pleasant, but he seemed agitated, in his typically battened-down, utterly controlled way. A muscle ticked in his jaw, confirming her impression.

“What’s wrong?”

He glanced at her, and she experienced a little flutter in her chest at the impact of him in dark, silver-rimmed aviators. Then his lips twisted into a small smile and the flutter turned into a thousand busy butterfly wings.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Your poker-faced, show-no-emotion default setting may fool other people, but even you have your tells. And I happen to be very astute.”

“I have no tells.” He lifted one hand from the wheel and rubbed the back of his neck.

“There’s one now. Face it, I can read you like a billboard. What’s bothering you?”

He dropped his hand and glanced at her again, this time over his sunglasses.

“Oooh. That’s your exasperated look. This is fun. I can play all night. Or you could just tell me what’s weighing on you.”

He sighed. “You might have been right about Justin spray-painting your shop.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but this wasn’t it. “I
know
I’m right, but what makes you think so now?”

He ran down the exchange he’d had with his brother. Her first impulse was to hug him for going to the trouble to get a nice bottle of wine for her, which only highlighted how screwed up her priorities were when it came to this man, but she forced herself to focus on the pertinent information. She blew out a breath and shook her head. “I guess there’s nothing worth reporting to the sheriffs? It’s not like he confessed. He just happened to use the same word—circumstantial evidence.”

“Not even circumstantial evidence, and nothing the sheriff’s department can do anything with. But my gut says he did it. Anyway, I hope threatening to rip his balls off scared him straight, but if not…”

“If not, my handy-dandy spy cam will catch him in the act next time.”

Shaun steered into the long, winding, and deeply rutted drive leading to the Browning spread. “Yeah. Next time. In the meantime, however, he might tell Tom we’re involved, just to stir up trouble. I didn’t confirm, nor will I, because it’s nobody’s damn business, but if rumors start circulating he’s the most likely source.”

She couldn’t pretend she didn’t care. She did, and she hated the idea of her personal life torpedoing her campaign. She could practically hear Tom calling her a manipulative Mata Hari, sleeping with his son in a ruthless attempt to get the inside details of his campaign. Nothing could be further from the truth, and she could use the “I refuse to dignify that with an answer” tactic without compromising her honesty.

“As long as nobody credible catches us together, it’s Justin’s word against mine, and his word carries very little weight around town.”

Her smile felt stiff on her lips, and Shaun looked far from happy with her reply, but she shook her head. “Let’s change the subject. Tonight is all ours. I refuse to let Justin ruin it.”

Shaun drove between the main house and the horse stalls, both of which bore the telltale signs of construction, and parked on the far side of the barn. “I thought we could spread our blanket out by the pond. It’s down that way.”

She grabbed the blanket from the backseat, jumped out of the Jeep, and winked at him. “Sugar, I know my way to the pond. Been there plenty of times.” Those visits had involved skinny dipping more often than not. How long had it been since she’d indulged in an illicit swim? Too long.

He raised his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Sweet Virginia, you’ve never been to the pond with me.”

The laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. Lord save her from cocky men. Or maybe not, she corrected when he hefted an insulated backpack out of the backseat, rounded the car, and took her hand.

At the bottom of the hill, she spread the blanket and then crouched down to straighten the edges. Shaun put the backpack down, sat, took his sunglasses off and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. She leaned past him to straighten the opposite edge.

“Stop fiddling. I had no idea you were so OCD.”

She shook her head and continued smoothing the blanket. “I cut hair for a living. I’m very particular about my edges.”

“You realize the only real purpose of this blanket is to prevent you from getting grass stains in some personal places once I strip off that pretty red dress and do all the things I have a mind to do to you tonight?”

His words sped up her pulse, but she stood and slowly smiled at him. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She toed off one boot.

He remained seated, but narrowed his eyes as she kicked off the other boot. “I’m a fast runner.”

She grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head. “The question you need to be asking yourself is, ‘Am I a fast swimmer?’”