His To Protect

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HAD SHE LOST her damn mind?

Cassie Rowe ignored the question looping in her head and checked the time on her cell phone. Nearly midnight. Her throat swelled. Only six hours until she boarded a US Coast Guard helicopter as a first-time Red Cross volunteer to help the hurricane-ravaged Virgin Islands and honor her lost brother. Unless she chickened out...

Her jittering knee smacked the bottom of the wooden table inside Mayday’s Bar & Grill and she clamped a hand on it. She’d come all this way and wasn’t about to turn tail now.

She peered around the crowded, nautical-themed bar, the hard-thumping rock music no match for the service personnel and other volunteers ready to ship out of Clearwater with her in a large-scale relief effort. They laughed and flirted in shadowed corners, their grinding silhouettes on the dance floor causing Cassie to experience an unexpected spike of arousal. Her life in small-town Idaho discouraged casual hookups even if she’d had the time. How long since she’d had sex?

Too long.

She toyed with the miniature anchor on her charm bracelet, figuring her love life would have to remain dormant awhile longer. Tonight wasn’t about hooking up. She’d only come here to pass a couple of hours since she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. She’d need some serious courage tomorrow morning to hitch a ride on the same type of aircraft that’d carried her rescue-swimmer brother on a similar mission a year ago...then left him to die alone at sea.

Anger pulsed through her harder than the thumping bass. How could it have happened? Going on this mission, she hoped, would finally give her some answers. And, maybe, honor her brother’s life and wishes. He’d challenged her to break out of her safe world back home. Live a little. And she’d hesitated. Jeff had been the daring older sibling she’d admired but never thought she could emulate. While he’d never given risk a thought, she mulled over possibilities until she wound up doing nothing at all.

Until now.

She raised his favorite drink—rum and cola—and toasted him. How she missed Jeff. That solid, big-brother presence she’d always thought she could count on.

Damn it. Grief still snuck up on her at odd times, surprising her with its force. Shoving to her feet, she smoothed down her dress and eased out of the booth. Might as well head back to her quarters since the bar hadn’t distracted her from her thoughts after all. Leaving a fat tip for the waitress, Cassie turned to go and bumped into a hard masculine shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, swiveling her hips sideways to pass the wall of lean muscle.

“Sorry” came the terse response.

Topaz eyes locked with hers for an instant, the barest connection with a stranger. And then, he was gone. She hovered there for a moment, oddly affected by that disarming gaze from beneath a dark tangle of hair, buzzed at the sides. The handsome mouth that’d curved above a square jaw. A slow shiver tripped along her skin, so foreign that it took her a long moment to recognize the sensation for what it was. Attraction.

Raw and simple. Totally unexpected.

Giving herself a shake, she headed toward the door again, only to remember the feel of the man’s eyes on her once more.

She’d come to the bar for a distraction, hadn’t she? And, much to her surprise, she’d just found one. Maybe she needed to start honoring that promise to her brother now. Tonight. After all, she hadn’t come all this way just to find answers about his death.

She was also here to take risks. Stop second-guessing herself. Live a little. And the gorgeous stranger might be her chance to do just that.

* * *

USCG JAYHAWK HELICOPTER pilot Lieutenant Commander Mark Sampson shoved through the crowd, brain still stuck on the deer-in-the-headlights look he’d just seen on the mouthwatering blonde. Those wide, serious blue eyes seemed out of sync with this hard-drinking, hard-partying military crowd.

Not that he had any business chasing beautiful women tonight or even being out. Not when he had wheels up in six hours for a mission that called to him, a mission he needed like he needed air. He’d spent too much time on the ground lately, definitely punishment for a guy who craved action. Adrenaline. The job.

Didn’t matter that there was a major storm system threatening to rain all kinds of hell on his head. He’d been waiting for two days for the worst of the hurricane to pass before they were approved to fly into the Virgin Islands. Time crawled when he wasn’t in the air, his mind on his job and nothing else. He needed to clock more hours in the cockpit and stay in the bubble—stay focused—to put some time between him and his past, and not even a gorgeous blonde would be able to fix that.

He sat at a corner table alone. When he brought the flat of his hand down on the table, empty beer bottles jumped. He dropped his head into his palms and felt the throb at his temples. Coming here had been a mistake. The happy crowd couldn’t dispel his demons.

He should be at the hotel room the overcrowded base had booked him into when his Elizabeth City, North Carolina, crew had arrived to provide rescue support during the hurricane. He’d head back and organize his emergency response gear soon.

Once he finished his soda, he’d leave.

A moment later, a slap thudded against his back. Ian, a crew member and close friend since his academy days, twirled and straddled a chair.

“Sticking to the hard stuff I see.” Ian grinned as he pointed to the soda can near Mark’s glass.

“No juice for the pilot. How about you? Want a drink?” Mark raised his voice as a Jimmy Buffett tune switched over to hard rock.

“Nah. I’m heading out. Dylan’s my ride and he’s got his panties in a bunch. Just found out he’s transferring to Kodiak when he gets back from Saint Thomas.”

Mark searched his memory, something nagging at him about Dylan, another rescue swimmer he’d flown when they’d been training. Then it hit him. “Isn’t Dylan from Alaska?”

Ian nodded. “Some bad blood there, though. A woman. At least that’s what he was mumbling about before the bartender cut him off. Looks like I’m the DD.” Mark followed Ian’s glance to Dylan, who paced by the bar’s exit. “Besides, better get some shut-eye before the big show.”

“They’re calling it the storm of the century.” Mark swirled the ice cubes in his glass, making them clank together.

Ian leaned his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “Doing okay?”

Mark jerked his chin up and down while his stomach clenched. “I’ve got it.”

His demons were off-limits.

Ian thumped him on the back again and stood. “Thought so.” He stretched his long arms overhead and a couple of lurking women nudged each other and pointed. “See you on the beach.”

A mirthless laugh escaped Mark. “Yep. Don’t forget the sunscreen.”

With a wave Ian ambled away, trailed by a couple of women. Mark shook his head and lifted his drink.

“Mind if I join you?” asked a silky voice from behind him.

He peered up into the crystal-blue eyes that’d nearly snared him earlier. God. She was an eyeful in an off-the-shoulder short white dress that made him want to slip the elastic neckline lower...or that hemline higher...

Long blond hair shone like a beacon in the dark bar. The woman was classically beautiful but carried herself like she had no clue. She fidgeted with a bracelet and bit her lip as if she was unsure of her reception. Like there was any chance in hell a guy might say no to her.

He swiped away the discarded beer bottles the waitress hadn’t gotten around to picking up from the previous occupants.

“Seat’s all yours.” His gaze wandered over her tanned legs before she dropped into the spot beside him.

She wound her thick hair into a messy topknot, and repositioned a patterned headband to hold things in place. “Wow, this place is packed,” she said, waving her hand in front of her flushed face. “We must be breaking some fire codes.”

As she glanced around the room, his eyes lingered on the profile revealed by her upswept do. Everything about her face was soft and round, from her large blue eyes, to the delicate tip of her nose, and the tender-looking flesh beneath her slightly jutting chin. His fingers itched to touch it.

“Mayday’s has seen worse than this. Is it your first time here?”

“What gave me away?” She did a little eye roll, a self-deprecating gesture that charmed him more than a practiced come-on.

“Most of the regulars don’t bother with conversation.” He pointed out a couple on the dance floor whose groping session was leaving them both overexposed.

“Oh.” She blinked and he’d bet money she blushed, but it was too dark to tell for sure. “How nice for them.” She toasted them with her mostly empty drink.

“I’m Mark.” He held out a hand, unable to resist the excuse to touch her.