The Soldier's Promise

He jerked back to the moment. “Mrs. Douglas,” he replied. “You said you brought my property survey. And the building permit?”

She looked startled and for a fleeting second he wondered whether she’d felt the same awareness that was galloping through his body. Then she gave him a more cautious smile. “The survey was easy. There’s a small problem with the building permit.”

She met his gaze directly, and he noted that she was tall, only four inches or so shorter than his own just over six-foot-three height. Perfect height to kiss without contorting himself. A wisp of wind caught her hair and turned a curl loose. He found himself longing to tuck it back in. To feel that smooth skin and see whether her hair was as silky as it looked.

She sure as hell wasn’t like any mayor he’d ever seen.

“And the building permit?” he asked, trying to divert the thoughts. Mind over matter. Or body.

“The city clerk said you didn’t bring a copy of the deed, and she checked with the county. The property is listed as belonging to David Hannity.”

“Dave Hannity is dead,” he said, barely keeping his voice steady. Even after nearly eight months, the words hurt like hell. “He left the cabin to me. An attorney in the county seat—Laine Mabry—just settled probate. The deed should have been transferred by now. I’ll check with him.”

“Good. Once we have a copy of the deed, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

He expected her to leave then, but she didn’t, and he was surprised he really didn’t want her to go. She challenged him. Intrigued him. He really had been too long without a woman.

Her gaze rested for a moment on the scar on his face. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to ask more questions. Still, she refrained, and that interested him, too, as did the way she stood her ground despite his scowl and lack of manners.

“The survey?” he prompted, silently cursing himself.

She lifted the briefcase and steadied it on the brick barbecue pit. She opened it and fished out a large piece of rolled draft paper.

Their hands touched, and he felt a surge of electricity streak through him. She suddenly backed away and bumped against the barbecue pit. He automatically reached out, steadying her. She smelled like fresh flowers, and he felt the calluses on her hand again. Oddly enough, that was sexy to him. Damn if she wasn’t sexy in every way.

He didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away.

A flame leaped between them. He felt its heat sear him. She leaned against him for the barest of seconds, then pulled away. Confusion suddenly clouded her eyes.

What in the hell just happened? He must be more nuts than usual. She wore a ring, and he never played in someone else’s yard. Never. He’d seen too many guys open Dear John letters and knew what it did to them. He was no angel, but he’d sworn never to cause that kind of pain. And he didn’t think much of a woman who could. Maybe that was why he always preferred one-night stands with unattached women.

She looked at him with wide eyes now. He watched as she tried to compose herself. When she finally spoke, there was a catch in her throat. “Dave Hannity... I knew him years ago. Not well. He was older. Then he just seemed to disappear....”

That brought him back to reality. Dave was a subject he couldn’t—wouldn’t—discuss.

“You said inherited,” she continued. “What happened to him?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters that I didn’t know. I liked him. I know my husband did.”

He didn’t answer immediately, hoping his silence would send her away.

When it was clear that it wouldn’t, he said simply, “He was in the army. He died in Afghanistan.”

“He must have been a good friend,” she said softly.

“Excuse me, Mayor Douglas, but I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”

She stiffened. “You’re right, of course, Mr. Manning. It’s not.” She started to turn, then swung back. “You said you have a dog.”

“Is that against the law?” He bristled again.

“Of course not.” Her smile faded. “But we do have some ordinances regarding animals,” she continued after a few seconds, as if she’d caught her breath. “Dogs have to be on a leash or...”

“Under the voice control of an individual,” he finished. “Amos is under voice control when we walk.”

The colors of her eyes seemed to change with her emotions. “I hope you’ll learn to like us,” she said. There was a not-so-veiled challenge in her tone. She wasn’t all sweetness. There was some spice, too.

“Not bloody likely,” he muttered, using an expression he’d learned from British counterparts. It was, he felt, appropriate at the moment as he tried to tamp down that sexual electricity that still hovered in the air. She looked so damn...intriguing. He sensed there was fire under that proper facade. He saw flashes of it in her eyes.

He reminded himself that she was married. And, God help him, a mayor. He’d never liked authority of any kind. Even in the army, he’d been a maverick and probably wouldn’t have lasted long if an officer hadn’t seen his independence as something that could be useful in Special Forces.

Mayor Eve Douglas was the last thing he needed.

He turned and limped inside, leaving her standing there.

But despite himself, he watched her through the newly cleaned window as she walked, ramrod straight, toward an elderly pickup truck. She stepped gracefully into the truck, not an easy thing to do.

A mud-splattered pickup truck? The mayor? Of course, it was a small town, but...

None of his business. He turned away. He tried to channel the persisting need into anger. Anger came easily these days. Right now, it was all he had to hold on to.

He went into his bedroom, where Amos still lay under the bed. The dog hadn’t even moved to see who was outside. A year ago, he would have been at full alert, eager and ready to inspect the newcomer.

The two of them were aliens in this place. They were military castoffs, and neither of them knew how to adapt. Josh lowered himself to the floor and sat next to the dog. He put his hand on Amos’s back and rubbed it. He knew it would be plain hell getting up, but right now he figured they needed each other.

“What in the hell are we doing here?” he whispered.

* * *

AFTER LEAVING MR. Manning’s property, Eve sat in her pickup for a while. Waiting...for what? Then she saw movement inside the cabin. Drat, what was she doing? She started the truck and drove out onto Lake Road, resisting the temptation to look back. One thing for sure, Josh Manning was no squatter. From the look of him, and what little she’d seen of the cabin, he’d been working like a demon.

She wasn’t sure what else he was. Her hand still burned from his touch, and her heart was hammering. She couldn’t remember that ever happening before. She was just flustered, she assured herself. He’d been rude and abrupt and...overwhelming.

She saw him now as he’d stood whacking at weeds, the ridges of his muscles straining under the damp T-shirt that clung to him, his sandy hair uncombed. There had been something elemental about him, something untamed and restless, and yet she’d also sensed control when he went to the trouble to harness it.

His face, partially covered with a beard the color of gold, was hawklike with guarded emerald-green eyes that assessed her as if she was prey. She completely understood why June had been frightened. He had nearly apologized about June, but not quite. It was probably as much of an apology as anyone would receive.

But she hadn’t been frightened. Stunned at her body’s reactions to him, yes, but physically afraid? No.

And why did she still ache inside? She hadn’t been attracted to another man since Russ died four years earlier, nor even before that. And this man was the polar opposite of her husband. Russ had been her best friend as well as lover: warm and funny and very easy to love. He’d been everyone’s big brother, and his students adored him. This man was a hostile loner. And a rather unkempt one at that.

When she reached the road, she drove past a few houses, then stopped the truck. She tried to regain her composure. It wasn’t easy. She’d never been so affected by a man, and it didn’t make sense. It certainly wasn’t because she was lonely. Although she missed Russ with all her heart, she had a good life with her son, Nick, their small ranch and her job.

Still, she couldn’t deny the attraction that had streaked between them when he had taken her hand and steadied her. So much strength there.

Nonsense. She didn’t believe in looks across a crowded room...or a weed patch. And it wasn’t that she didn’t have enough problems already.