Hot Combat

Charlie slammed against a wall of muscle, the air knocked from her chest. Or had her lungs seized at his words? She knew that voice. Her pulse pounded against her eardrums, making it difficult for her to hear. “Jon?”

He brushed a strand of her hair from her face. “Hey, Charlie, I didn’t know you were my assignment.” He chuckled, that low, sexy sound that made her knees melt like butter.

Her heart burst with joy. He’d come back. Then as quickly as her joy spread, anger and fear followed. She flattened her palms against his chest and pushed herself far enough way, Jon was forced to drop his hands from around her waist. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m on assignment.” He grinned. “And it appears you’re it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Kevin Garner sent me. The Navy loaned me to the Department of Homeland Security for a special task force. I thought it was going to be a boondoggle, and actually asked to be released from the assignment. But it looks like it won’t be nearly as bad as I’d anticipated.”

Charlie straightened her shirt, her heartbeat hammering, her ears perked to the sound of little footsteps. “You were right. Get Kevin to release you. Go back to the Navy. They need you more there.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. I promised Kevin I’d give it a week.” Jon gripped her arms. “Why the hurry to get rid of me? As I recall, we used to have chemistry.”

She shrugged off his hand. “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed since then. Please. Just go. I can handle the situation myself.”

“If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

“No.” God, why did he have to come back now? And why was it so hard to get rid of him? He’d certainly left without a care, never looking back or contacting her. Well, he could stay gone, for all she gave a damn. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need you. Ask Kevin to assign you elsewhere.”

“Mommy, I found the brush.” Lolly pushed through the back door, waving a purple-handled hairbrush. “You can braid my hair now.” Charlie’s daughter, with her clear blue eyes and fiery auburn hair tumbling down her back, stepped through the door and stopped. Her mouth dropped open and her head tilted way back as she stared up at the big man standing on her porch. “Mommy?” she whispered. “Who is the big man?”

Charlie’s heart tightened in her chest. If only her daughter knew. But she couldn’t tell her and she couldn’t tell Jon. Not after all these years. Not when he’d be gone again as soon as he could get Kevin to release him. “This is Mr. Caspar. He was just leaving.” Thankfully, her daughter looked like a miniature replica of herself, but for the eyes. No one had guessed who the father was, except for her parents, and they’d been very discreet about the knowledge, never throwing it up in her face or giving her a hard time for sleeping with him without a wedding ring.

Jon dropped to his haunches and held out his hand. “Would you like for me to brush your hair? I used to do it for your mother.”

The memory of Jon brushing the hay and tangles out of her hair brought back a rush of memories Charlie would rather not have resurrected. Not now. Not when it had taken seven years to push those memories to the back of her mind. She had too much at stake.

Charlie laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Mr. Caspar was leaving.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I promised to stay for a week. I don’t go back on my word.”

No, he didn’t. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship when he’d last been in town. He’d lived up to his word then, leaving without once looking back. “Well, you’ll have to keep your promise somewhere else besides my back porch.”

Her daughter tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. “Mommy, are you mad at the man?”

With a sigh, Charlie shook her head. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad at him.” Well, maybe a little angry that he’d bothered to come back after seven years. Or more that he’d waited seven years to return. Hell, she didn’t know what to feel. Her emotions seemed to be out of control at the moment, bouncing between happiness at seeing him again and terror that he would discover her secret.

Since Jon seemed in no hurry to leave, she’d have to get tougher. Charlie turned her little girl and gave her a nudge toward the door. “Go back inside, Lolly. We adults need to have a talk.”

Lolly grabbed her hand and clung to it. “I don’t want to go.” She frowned at Jon. “What if the big man hurts you?”

Lord, he’d already done that by breaking her heart. How could he hurt her worse?

* * *

GHOST WATCHED AS the little girl, who looked so much like her mother that it made his chest hurt, turned and entered the house, the screen door closing behind her.

Charlie hadn’t waited around for him to come back. She’d gone on with her life, had a kid and probably had a husband lurking around somewhere. “Are you married?” He glanced over her shoulder, trying to see through the screen of the back door.

“Since you’re not staying, does it matter?” She walked past him and down the stairs, grabbed a bowl from the ground and nearly tripped over a dark gray cat twisting around her ankles.

When Charlie stepped over the animal and started up the steps, the feline ran ahead and stopped in front of Ghost. She touched her nose to his leg as if testing him.

Ghost grew up on a ranch with barn cats. His father made sure they had two or three at any given time, but had them spayed and neutered to keep from populating the countryside with too many feral animals with the potential for carrying disease or rabies around the family and livestock.

He bent to let the cat sniff his hand and then scratched the animal’s neck. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. Why would she avoid the simple yes or no question?

“I don’t feel like I owe you an explanation for what I’ve been doing for the past seven years.” Her tone was tight, her shoulders stiff.

When he’d first seen her on the deck, he hadn’t immediately recognized her. Her hair was longer and loose around her shoulders. When they’d been together, all those years ago, she’d worn her hair in a perpetual braid to keep it out of her face.

Her hips and breasts were fuller, even more enticing than before. Motherhood suited her. If possible, she was more beautiful and sexier than ever.

His gut twisted. But who was the father? Lolly was small. Maybe five? Though he didn’t have a claim on Charlie, he never could stomach the idea of another man touching her the way he’d touched her.

The fact was babies didn’t come from storks. So Charlie wasn’t the open, straightforward woman she’d been all those years ago. She probably had a reason for being more reserved. Having a child might have factored into her current stance.

He straightened. “So, tell me about the threats.”

“You’re not going away, are you?” Her brows drew together, the lines a little deeper than when she’d been twenty-two. She sighed. “I really wish you would just go. I have enough going on.”

“Without me getting in the way?” He shook his head. “I’m only going to be here a week. Unless you have a husband who is willing to take care of you, let me help you and your family for the week.” He smiled, hoping to ease the frown from her brow. “Show me a husband and I’ll leave.” He cocked his brows.

She stared at him for a long, and what appeared to be wary, moment before she shook her head. “There isn’t a husband to take care of us.”

“Is he out of town?” He wasn’t going to let it go. The thought of Charlie and her little girl being threatened didn’t sit well with him. Who would do that to a lone woman and child? “I could stay until he returns.”

“I told you. There isn’t a husband. Never has been.”

He couldn’t help a little thrill at the news. But if no husband, who was the jerk who’d gotten her pregnant and left her to raise the child alone?

His heart stood still and his breath lodged in his lungs. Everything around him seemed to freeze. No. It couldn’t be. “How old is Lolly?”

“Does it matter?” Charlie spun and walked toward the door. “If you want to see the threats, follow me.”

He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him, his fingers digging into her skin. “How old is she?” he demanded, his lips tight, a thousand thoughts spinning in his head, zeroing in on one.

For a long moment, she met his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally, she tilted her chin upward a fraction and answered, “Six.”

“Just six?” His gut clenched.

“Six and a few months.”

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut. Ghost fought to remain upright when he wanted to double over with the impact. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides and balled his fists. “Is she—”

“Yours?” She shrugged. “Does it matter? Will it change anything?”