# The Re-Enlisted Groom

Amy J. Fetzer

HE'S BACK - WHAT WILL I DO? The answer to that question - and any coherent thoughts - deserted Maxie Parrish when Sergeant Kyle Hayden was assigned to her ranch. Maxie had no choice but to usher her new boarder inside and safeguard her somersaulting emotions. Because this time she had someone else's heart to consider… ."WILL HE FIND OUT?"That answer grew harder to face as this single mom saw how seven years had changed the once-danger-seeking ex-marine. His sable-colored eyes now offered her forever. But Kyle had yet to open her old letters and read Maxie's confession that her most protected secret… was also his daughter.

“Please take me away from here,” Maxie Parrish silently prayed. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Acknowledgments Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue Copyright

“Please take me away from here,” Maxie Parrish silently prayed.

But she knew no rescue would be coming as her past walked steadily toward her.

She would recognize Kyle Hayden anywhere, anytime. By his stride, the shift of his shoulder... his sexy rocking hips.

“Is this the Wind Dancer Ranch, ma’am?”

“Yes, Kyle. It is.”

His head jerked up, his gaze narrow and piercing.

His eyes still held the same intensity, making her body talk when she wanted it to be silent.

And unfortunately, after all this time, he knew it.

“Hello, Max.”

The sound of his voice, deep as the ocean floor, sent tremors through her bloodstream. It didn’t help that he still looked good. The last time she’d seen him, he was cramming his gear into a marine green sea bag, expecting to marry her the next day before he shipped out. Don’t panic, she thought. He doesn’t know about the last seven years...or his daughter.

Dear Reader,

Hectic life? Too much to do, too little time? Well, Silhouette Desire provides you with the perfect emotional getaway with this month’s moving stories of men and women finding love and passion. So relax, pick up a Desire novel and let yourself escape, with six wonderful, involving, totally absorbing romances.

Ultratalented author Mary Lynn Baxter kicks off November with her sultry Western style in Slow Talkin’ Texan, the story of a MAN OF THE MONTH whose strong desires collide with an independent lady—she’s silk to his denim, lace to his leather... and doing all she can to resist this irresistible tycoon. A smalltown lawman who rescues a “lost” beauty might just find his own Christmas bride in Jennifer Greene’s heartwarming Her Holiday Secret. Ladies, watch closely as a Thirty-Day Fiancé is transformed into a forever husband in Leanne Banks’s third book in THE RULEBREAKERS miniseries.

Don’t dare miss the intensity of an innocent wife trying to seduce her honor-bound husband in The Oldest Living Married Virgin, the latest in Maureen Child’s spectacular miniseries THE BACHELOR BATTALION. And when a gorgeous exmarine shows up at his old flame’s ranch to round up the “wife who got away,” he discovers a daughter he never knew in The Re-Enlisted Groom by Amy J. Fetzer. The Forbidden Bride-to-Be may be off-limits...but isn’t that what makes the beautiful heroine in Kathryn Taylor’s scandal-filled novel all the more tempting?

This November, Silhouette Desire is the place to live, love and lose yourself...to sensual romance. Enjoy!

Warm regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

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The Re-Enlisted Groom

Amy J. Fetzer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AMY J. FETZER

was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her experiences, along with bits and pieces of the diverse people she’s met, in creating the characters and settings for her novels. “Nobody’s safe,” she says. “There are heroes and heroines right in front of us, if we just take the time to look.” Married nineteen years to a United States Marine, and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.

For

Maureen Child

a.k.a.

High Priestess of the Clan of the Plotting Goddesses To Baileys and coffee and sharing an ashtray.

To skipping PAW just to chat.

To emergency plot sessions

and picking apart a hero’s psyche with a surgeon’s

precision.

For listening to my whining with patience and sympathy,

then prodding me, in your oh-so-gentle way,

to work harder for what I wanted.

For shouting for joy when I finally get it,

and getting mad at me when I didn’t.

And mostly, for being the consummate professional and

teaching me

what it really means to write for a living.

Thanks, Moe

Prologue

Camp Pendleton, California

In five days Kyle and Maxie were going to be married.

In six days he was leaving for Desert Storm.

The possibility that he could lose her, his life and the only sense of belonging he’d felt since he was twelve hit Sergeant Kyle Hayden like a barrage of artillery. He tightened his arms around the woman he loved, knowing nothing could soften the news he’d always expected.

“This is so unfair,” she cried, her tears wetting his olive drab T-shirt.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothed, brushing his mouth over her hair, her temple, inhaling and memorizing her lush scent. “But orders are orders.” He peppered kisses over her cheeks, tasting her tears, wishing he could erase them, yet even as she sobbed, something tugged hard inside him. No one had ever cried for him before. No one had ever cared enough.

She tipped her head; tortured green eyes filled with doubt gazed up at him. “Oh, Kyle. This isn’t one of your thrillseeking games. This isn’t racing a car or a dirt bike where you can stop if you want.” Her nails dug into his bare arms. “War is real Real bullets, real danger.”

He silenced her with a deep kiss. Yes, it was war, but for five years he’d been training to fight. The need to put himself to the test meshed with nightmarish scenes of battle suddenly flashing in his mind, yet he kept tasting her mouth, kept running his hands familiarly over her plush body, pushing aside the images and focusing on the physical, the tangible... the woman in his arms.

“I’ll be okay.” His breath rushed with hers, his insatiable craving to get closer to her, get naked with her, right now, raged along his blood. “I’ll keep my head down. I swear it.”

“You better keep all of you down,” she said.

He met her gaze, grinning. “Any parts you were particularly worried about?” He wiggled his brows.

Suddenly she shoved out of his arms. “Is everything a joke to you?” she said, swiping at her tears. “My God, Kyle, are you itching to get yourself killed?”

“Come on, baby, don’t start this now.” He tried to coax her back into his arms, but she wasn’t buying it, skating out of his reach.

“Then when, Kyle? When you break your back instead of your leg bungee jumping out of a helicopter?” She flung her hand toward the now forgotten crutches propped against his wall locker. “Or when you take a bullet because you want to experience it ripping through your flesh to see if it compares to one of those ridiculous stunts you’ve already pulled!” Maxie knew she was nearly yelling, but she was so scared, for him, for their future.

Her temper was amazing, he thought as she paced like an anxious colt, his gaze dropping to her short red shirt and her long muscled legs. He wanted to be between them. “You’re overreacting. That stuff never bothered you before. You even came along.” He looked her over, long and heavy, his mind on the fringes of the conversation. “And I thought you liked that about me.”

Maxie remembered first meeting him when he raced stock cars in Long Beach. And the collision he was lucky to walk away from alive. “In a man I was just getting to know, yeah. It was intriguing.” She paused, leveling him a look. “But not in a husband.” The shift in his features told her he was at least listening this time, and she took a step closer. “I’d like the future father of my children around long enough—”

“Don’t,” he cut in. “I can’t think that far ahead, Max.” He jammed his fingers into his short dark hair. “Babies?” The thought terrified him, and his voice pleaded. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

Because we’ve pushed the wedding ahead three months because of the war, and I feel rushed. Because you’re not acting at all like a man ready for a wife. Instead she told him her most recent reservation. “Because I honestly feel you love cheating death more than you love me.”

The fraction of hesitation was far too revealing for Maxie.

“That’s not true. I love you, but I have orders.”

“I know that,” she said impatiently. “But this is affecting us already, Kyle, and I want you to see beyond it.” Why did she always have to be the levelheaded one in their relationship?

He straightened, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s affecting you, not me.”

Hurt sprang in her eyes. “Isn’t that enough?”

Kyle knew he was being selfish. But he could be gone for months or a year—or he could get killed and never see her again. He didn’t want to talk about kids and a home. He and his older brother, Mitch, had been alone since they were abandoned when he was twelve, and the picture she painted was too foreign to him anyway. He loved her, loved everything about her, yet because he was obligated to the Marine Corps and going into a war, he couldn’t give her what she wanted with any kind of certainty. Suddenly Kyle was more afraid of losing her over this than he was of an Iraqi bullet.

He lifted his gaze, hoping she didn’t see how scared he was. “I love you, Maxie. This is all we have right now.” He held out his hand, waiting.

She hesitated, gazing into his hopeful eyes. Then in a heartbeat, she flew to him, clinging to him.

And he clung back, covering her mouth with his. His kiss was fierce and savage, his lips grinding over hers with his need to draw her into himself, to take part of her with him to Saudi. He needed her, and she gave and gave, and then plowing her fingers through his hair and pressing her hips into his, she gave some more.

And Kyle took, grasping, greedy. He couldn’t think that in a few days he was going to leave his new bride alone, that he was trading her smile on their honeymoon for a taste of enemy gunfire. He thought only of Maxie Parrish. Sleek and sexy and here for him. His hunger mounted to unfathomable proportions, his hands driving beneath her blouse, riding roughly up her warm skin. So soft, so Maxie. And when she leaned deeper into him, yanking up his T-shirt, sliding her hands over his flesh, he knew her mind was on the pleasure they would share, knew she ached with the same unrelenting hunger that always raged between them. The anticipation of being inside her nearly undid him as he quickly unfastened her bra, his hands sweeping around to envelop her breasts.

Maxie moaned with dark pleasure, helping him strip off her blouse, her nipples already tight and hard for his questing fingers. He has the most incredible mouth, she thought as he bent her back over his arm and dragged it over her naked flesh, lips tugging, drawing heavier and closer to the center of her breasts. Expectation heightened her nerves.

“Kyle, Kyle,” she breathed, hesitating against his kiss, struggling with the swamping sensations to see beyond desire. He was leaving for who knew how long, and apart, they would change. It was inevitable. But how drastically would it affect their new marriage? “Maybe—” She gasped for a breath as his mouth drifted closer to her nipple. “Maybe we should postpone the wedding till you come back.”

Suddenly she was upright and he was cupping her jaw in his broad palms, his dark eyes intense with quick fear. “Don’t even think it. I need you.” He closed his eyes, briefly, tightly. “I love you, Max,” he murmured against her mouth, then kissed her again and again. “I need to know you’re my wife.”

Maxie felt the anxiousness in his kiss, his embrace. “Oh, Kyle. I love you, too, but we have to be realistic,” she managed to say, hurriedly peeling his T-shirt over his head.

Abruptly he lifted her against him until her breasts were level with his face. “This is the only reality I want.” His lips closed over one nipple, drawing it deeply into the hot suck of his mouth, and Maxie threw her head back, dark auburn hair spilling along her naked spine.

He’s putting me off, she thought. He had, every time she’d mentioned waiting. But his touch, his sensual power, overwhelmed her and she surrendered to it, wrapping her legs around his hips as he back-stepped toward the bed. He brought her down with him as he sat on the mattress, his hand already beneath her skirt, pushing aside her panties.

Breathless, Maxie held his gaze as he carefully parted her, her body on some tenuous edge until his fingers plunged into her. Her eyes closed, and she rocked against his hand.

“You’re always so warm and wet,” he growled, and smiled at the blush racing up her body. “You pulse for me.” His fingers moved inside her with deep, deliberate strokes, and he watched her desire escalate, was sure of it as she tore at the button fly of his camouflage trousers. With a look of retribution on her face, she reached inside, enfolding him.

He thrust against her touch. “Oh, Maxie,” he groaned in a way that she loved.

“Is this enough reality?” she whispered against his lips as they stroked each other to frantic pitch. “Enough when you’re—”

He covered her mouth with his. He didn’t want to hear her uncertainties, didn’t want to admit he would be alone in the desert, without connection, without family. He needed her here for him, waiting for him. Wanting him.

Like he wanted her now.

“Get naked for me,” he told her, easing her off his lap. He bent to remove his combat boots, his gaze hungering over her body as she stood inches from him, skimming out of the rest of her clothes, torturing him with a heavy, bone-racking caress, a thick kiss, before she crawled onto the bed. He stood, shoved down his trousers, then kicked them aside.

Maxie watched him come to her, naked, ropy muscles and darkness, and her body reacted with a rush of liquid. He exuded power and raw sensuality, in his eyes, his walk, and Maxie knew she would never in her life be able to resist him. He was her greatest weakness. Yet the misgivings she was experiencing right now, about her feelings, their uncertain future, were a world apart from the blistering heat that constantly crackled between them.

That heat leaped beyond her anxiety when he ripped away the sheet she’d shielded herself with, his gaze scorching her body, his expression growing hotter by the moment. Defiantly she let her gaze tear over him, his shoulders carved broader and thicker from his recent training, the deep contours of his stomach, the nested maleness, thick and proud for her. Between her thighs she tightened, throbbed.

He’s leaving, she thought again, yet knew he wanted to go fight for his country. Maxie would never dream of trying to stop him. The scars still pink from his last skydiving jump and the past year of knowing him told her it was useless to even consider keeping him from the scent of danger. He lived for it.

Kyle pressed his knee to the mattress. “Come here.”

She lifted her chin, giving him that “make me” look that drove him wild.

Kneeling, he arched a brow, his gaze lowering to her breasts, watching her nipples tighten the longer he lingered there, before dropping to the dark curls between her thighs. She made a sound, half curse, half pleading, and he chuckled knowingly.

“It’s pathetic, this command you have over me,” she said, tingling for the moment when he would touch her again.

“Your body maybe—” Suddenly he snatched her by the ankles, and she let out a tiny shriek as he dragged her across the bed to him. “But you?” Slowly he shook his head. “Never.” They stared and her lips curved in a sexy smile that robbed Kyle of his next breath. She’s so beautiful, he thought, pressing his palms to her chest, dragging them over her full breasts, shaping their weight, manipulating her nipples. She growled lushly, covering his hands and arching into the pressure. Her gaze followed his fingers as they slid over her ribs, her hips, stroking her soft thighs before hooking her knees and pulling her closer and closer to his heat.

She lifted her gaze to his. A moment passed, their breathing labored. A dark hunger lingered in the air, bodies and hearts exposed. She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

Then suddenly she was against him, straddling his bare thighs, her arms locked tightly around his neck. Kyle knew without looking that she was crying. He closed his eyes and held her for a long moment, his heart clenching over her soft sobs. The unfairness of their situation increased his frustration and he sank his fingers into her hair, tipping her head and forcing her to look at him. He searched her delicate features, a lump thick in his throat. He was going to miss her. And hoped she’d miss him.

“Make love to me, Kyle. Make it last.”

“We have all night. And in a few days, we’ll have a lifetime.”

Her eyes clouded, and she gripped him back. “No. We won’t. Don’t you see? You’ll be gone. We don’t know when you’re coming back!” A pause, a whimper of despair and then, “Maybe we should not rush and wait.”

In a heartbeat, he dropped her onto her back, covering her body with his. “I can’t,” he said, then filled her in one long, hard thrust. “I can’t. I need you too much.” He withdrew, then surged, again and again, wild and frantic, his mouth crushing hers, each touch, each stroke driving away her misgivings about their future and leaving only the untamed passion they’d shared for over a year.

He was unrelenting, his reality in the here and now and not days away. Not years away. But he felt her slipping from him. He knew he was reckless sometimes, knew he took chances any sane man would shudder at, but even when he felt the hot rush of fear that came with the risk and danger, he always knew Maxie would be here for him. He wanted to make it permanent. He had to. He couldn’t lose her, not even a fraction, refusing to believe their lives would change.

He kept making wild love to her, and when she trembled with her explosion, drenching him with her desire, he made love to her again, listening to her cries of passion and ignoring the words he was too terrified to hear.

Maxie sat on the edge of the bed in the cheap hotel room, her hands clenched on her lap. She toyed with her engagement ring until her finger was raw and red, then yanked it off and shoved it into her purse. Tears rained down her cheeks, splashing onto her fists. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. She needed them. She deserved them.

She glanced at the clock, the big hand refusing to move past the time of her wedding. Her gaze shifted to her gown, white satin and hand-embroidered lace tossed carelessly in the chair. Once today she’d put it on, if only for a moment to feel like a bride, and she’d almost weakened in her decision. That dress symbolized all she wanted—husband, home, kids. All she wanted. Kyle wanted only her. And danger.

Was marriage, right now—before he had to leave for Desert Storm—the wisest move for them? Or was it just fear pushing them to rush their wedding, their lives? Was she in love with the idea of marriage and family, or with Kyle? She tore her gaze from the gown. She’d asked herself the same questions over and over for the past hour, the urge to race to the chapel and marry Kyle staggering her.

Turmoil and fear held her back, kept her rooted to a lumpy bed in the darkened room. How could she do this to the man she loved? But she knew. Weeks of chaotic thoughts, of preparations for a wedding and for the groom to go to war, of Kyle refusing to discuss postponing their wedding, had brought her to this moment. This horrible, telling moment when she should be walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands, a deep sorrow tormenting her to the breaking point.

She’d felt it while he was away for desert training six weeks ago. That first-time separation had opened her eyes, scared and confused her. For without the physical passion, she realized they were on the same road, traveling in opposite directions. She loved him deeply, yet they wanted different things, and for a while, she let herself believe she could change him, change his wants to hers. He was thrills and chills, wanting only her and the corps in his life. She wanted a home and fat babies—and stability. The only thing they wanted mutually was each other.

Maxie knew blood-jolting desire wasn’t enough.

And it was the sole reason she couldn’t face him right now.

One look, one touch and she would never do what she had to do. His stare bore too much power, his kisses too much steam, and he knew how to make her forget. Their passion was always so strong, she had trouble seeing beyond it. Until now.

They were afraid and seeking some control in a hopeless situation. He was leaving and wouldn’t believe it was best to wait until he came back, that if they really loved, time would be on their side. Marriage in a panic was reckless, and getting unmarried would be much harder.

No, she thought, nothing could be harder than this. Yet she was willing to risk everything not to make a huge mistake.

Maxie glanced at the clock again and groaned, listlessly crawling onto the bed and curling into a tight ball. She tried not to imagine her groom, what he was thinking, the hurt he was feeling. If only he had listened...if only time wasn’t so short...if only there wasn’t a war waiting for him...

Clad in his dress blue uniform, Kyle Hayden’s spine was straight as a rifle stock, his eyes forward, his gaze on the chapel door. She’ll be here, he thought. Any minute. Around him, guests and attendants whispered, the tick of the church clock sounding like a gong in his head. His buddies were lined up alongside him, his older brother, Mitch, offering excuses: traffic, a flat or a woman’s incredible need to be late for every major function in her life. Yet the longer Kyle waited, the more he imagined her in an accident, bleeding somewhere where he couldn’t get to her. He’d already sent two of his pals off to search for her. If she was okay, she would have let him know, he thought. Maxie wouldn’t do this to him. Maxie wouldn’t make him wonder.

Maxie loved him.

He believed. And he waited.

Waited past the time of the ceremony.

Waited as their guests left, his humiliation hidden beneath the granite expression he’d perfected over the years. His eyes never leaving the door, Kyle let his hurt and anger escalate and even as his heart leaped when a figure slipped into the chapel, he cursed himself for forgiving her so easily in those few seconds. Until he saw her mother and the look on her face. The sympathy and pity Lacy Parrish sent him was enough to kill Kyle where he stood.

He dropped Maxie’s wilting bouquet and with his white barracks cover tucked under his arm, he left the church with the measured cadence of a marine going off to war. Which was exactly what he had to do. Married or not

Less than twenty-four hours later, dressed in desert beige camouflage utilities, Kyle stood in formation with his platoon, his body weighted down with his pack, bedroll, ammunition and weapons. He didn’t speak to anyone, too aware that his buddies knew he wasn’t the married man he’d hoped to be today. He tried not to imagine Maxie’s face, what she was thinking when she stood him up, what she was doing now. A woman’s sob caught him off guard, and his gaze snapped to a fellow marine, his wife in his arms as she cried and told him she would miss him. Kyle’s throat tightened, the pain in his chest threatening his breathing. That should be me, he thought, tearing his gaze away to scan the crowd of women and children, parents and friends who’d come to see the marines off. He waited for long, dark auburn hair to catch his attention, waited to see her running toward him, begging for his forgiveness and telling him she loved him.

She’ll come, he thought. She won’t let me get on this plane without saying goodbye. Kyle believed and he waited, lagging behind when his platoon filed toward the plane. Still he stalled, back-stepping, searching the mass of people. She’ll come, he told himself. She might have wanted a wait to many him, but she loved him. She did.

A sharp command pierced his thoughts, and he faced his first sergeant.

“Move it, marine! The war won’t wait.”

Kyle obeyed, the last man aboard the aircraft. Yet even as the hydraulics lifted to seal the huge troop carrier, Kyle still hoped, still looked. But as the hatch closed him in with over a hundred other marines, Kyle faced the truth.

And inside, he died.

One

Grand Canyon, Arizona

Seven years later

Maxie paused, the shovel full of soiled hay halfway to the wheelbarrow when she heard the helicopter. The noise vibrated the walls of her barn, disturbing her animals as the pilot made a low-flying sweep of her place before setting down.

“Relax, Elvis,” she said to the horse tethered outside his stall. “You ought to be used to that by now.” She flung the putrid pile onto the heap, shaking her head. The independent pilots the park service hired when they were shorthanded in bad weather usually had Top Gun envy and were always a little showy. Apparently the pilot she was supposed to board for the next week or two wasn’t beyond hotdogging, either.

Since it was likely one of the pilots she’d boarded before, she didn’t immediately run out to greet him, estimating it would take him a few minutes to anchor the chopper and walk the hundred yards from the dirt helipad to the barn. If he thought to look for her there. Either way, she didn’t want company. Usually the service put the temps up in hotels or at Mrs. Tippin’s Bed and Breakfast, but with half the rescue teams out with the flu and the tourist traffic unusually high now for the lack of snow, the overflow boarded with her. The occasions were too rare for her to regret that part of the deal she’d made with the service three years ago. She just hoped this pilot didn’t expect her to wait on him. She had too much work to do.

After maneuvering the heavy wheelbarrow down the long corridor of stalls to the truck parked outside the rear entrance, she forced it up the ramp and quickly dumped its odious contents. Maxie hurriedly backtracked, bringing the wheelbarrow back for another load, then hefting the shovel.

Movement at the far end of the barn caught her attention.

She froze. The color drained from her face. Her gloved fingers tightened on the handle.

Rescue me. Oh, someone please take me away from here.

But Maxie Parrish knew no rescue would be coming.

Her worst nightmare was walking steadily toward her.

She would recognize him anywhere, anytime. Even with the fleece collar of his butternut suede jacket pulled up against the wind and his face shielded beneath a black cowboy hat, she knew him. By his stride, the shift of his shoulders... his sexy rocking hips.

Seven years’ worth of guilt and shame threatened to swallow her whole, and Maxie fought the overpowering urge to run.

Instead, like a sinner anticipating penance, she waited for the moment when he would recognize her.

A duffel slung over his shoulder, his gaze was more on where he was stepping than where he was heading. “This the Wind Dancer Ranch, ma’am?”

“Yes, Kyle. It is.”

He stopped short. His head jerked up, his gaze narrow and piercing her straight through to the bone.

He didn’t say a word. He just kept staring, whatever he was feeling locked tightly behind an expression harder than ice. His fingers flexed on the duffel strap at his shoulder. His lips tightened. And Maxie felt the hay-strewed floor soften beneath her feet as he moved within a yard of her. His gaze roamed, and she felt heat slowly sketch her face as he searched for changes and absorbed each one. It was hard to believe those eyes still held the same intensity, dark and wicked, making her skin warm in the chilly morning, making her body talk when she wanted it to be silent.

And unfortunately, after all this time, he knew it.

It didn’t help that he looked as good as he did when he was a marine, she thought. Oh, he was older, more mature and though there were a few lines around the corners of his eyes and a cynical tightness to his lips that hadn’t been there before, he was still essentially the same. Handsome, tanned, sable haired with pebble dark eyes that had always held a glint of mischief. They didn’t now, offering nothing. Apparently he didn’t think his surprise arrival was any kind of blessing, either.

Kyle was shaking inside. Seven years faded away, and he was a marine, standing on the flight deck, waiting for her, hurting like mad. He couldn’t stop the sensations, wishing to God he had never set foot inside the barn, but knew he had to get control, reminding himself that she was his past, not his present.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

It shouldn’t be this hard to just look at her, Kyle thought, the agony of losing her and never knowing why clutching at his chest Yet like a masochist searching for more pain, his gaze moved over her face, her petite features, the lush figure even a shapeless flannel shirt and down vest couldn’t hide. She’s cut her hair, he thought stupidly. Her auburn waves were evenly trimmed, side parted and skimming her jaw, her long drop earrings emphasizing those great bones. One thing he had to say about Maxie—she had a body that evoked wild fantasies and a face that gave a man sleepless nights.

He ought to know. He’d had his share of them. And he didn’t want any more.

He brought his gaze back to hers. “Hello, Max.”

The sound of his voice, deep as the ocean floor, coated her, sending tremors through her bloodstream. And with it came a flood of unwanted memories, of heartache and guilt. Oh, Lord, the guilt, Maxie thought. It had never eased completely, and as she stared into his eyes now, it magnified. The last time she’d seen him, he was cramming his gear into a marine green Man!, expecting to marry her before he shipped out to Saudi Arabia. Her gaze wavered. Selfpreservation steadied it. Don’t panic, she thought He doesn’t know about the past seven years.

“Why are you here?” she finally asked, trembling and trying not to show it.

He arched a brow, his dark gaze boring into hers. “Don’t have anything else to say, Max? Like ‘I see you survived’? Any bullet holes to show for nine months in the Iraqi desert?’”

She cringed, his bitter tone reminding her that she didn’t know what had happened to him after Desert Storm. Only that he’d never wanted to see her again.

Not that she could blame him.

Yet she refused to rise to his bait and acted as casual as she could with him staring at her so intensely. “Hello, Kyle,” she said calmly, bracing her gloved hands on the top of the shovel handle and tipping her head. “You look good. Any bullet holes?” He shook his head. “Now...why are you here?”

“Me and my chopper are on loan to the park service.”

Disappointment shaped her face. “Helicopters. Surprise, surprise,” Maxie muttered, then hefted the shovel, scooping and dumping, relieved that her voice was steadier than her hands. “I should have known you couldn’t go far from chasing danger.”

Resentment burst through Kyle, that she didn’t believe he’d changed—and more so that she appeared unaffected while his heart hadn’t made it back to his chest, still sitting in the pit of his stomach. “You mean instead of manning a .50-caliber machine gun in an open chopper during low-flying reconnaissance?” His biting tone grabbed her attention, and she met his gaze. “No,” he said, as if mulling over how to solve world peace. “I can’t say it’s the same.” His features sharpened, his eyes penetrating. “Hauling tourists lacks some of that killer adrenaline rush you get under live enemy fire.”

His sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss, yet she paled at the image anyway. “What?” She focused on hitting the wheelbarrow and not his feet. “Not dangerous enough?”

“Forget about my chopper—” he unzipped his jacket and tipped his hat back “—what the hell are you doing here?” He gestured to the rows of stalls.

She scoffed and kept shoveling. “You don’t think I wade in this stuff because I like the fragrance, do you?”

Kyle’s lips thinned, his impatience gone. “Look, Max, just point me in the direction of the boss, and I’m outta here.”

“I am the boss.”

“What?”

Maxie glanced up. His disturbed look was almost amusing. If she wasn’t doing her level best not to unravel all over the place, she might have smiled. Instead she held on to her frayed nerves, deposited the scoopful in the wheelbarrow, then propped the shovel against the wall. She faced him, brushing her hair off her forehead with the back of her gloved hand and said, “I own this place, Kyle.”

Briefly he glanced around, scowling, but her mutinous expression dared him to contradict her.

They stared.

The wind skated along the barn, searching for a spot to enter and chill them to the bone. The dropping temperature outside didn’t compare to the atmosphere inside.

“So. You’ve been here?” His words dripped ice. “All this time?”

“Not all this time,” she answered frostily, bending to move the wheelbarrow farther into the corridor. “And it doesn’t matter now, does it?” As she spoke, she pulled a pair of wire cutters from her back pocket and snipped open a hay bale lying outside the stall.

With his free hand, he reached out to pat the horse, anything to keep from shaking some feeling into her. Maxie had never been so...emotionless. “Not that I can see,” he said, shrugging.

“Good.” She grabbed a pitchfork, quickly spreading hay in the clean stall. “At least we understand each other.”

He hitched the duffel higher, shifting his weight to one leg. “Do we?”

Her gaze shot to his, and she shook her head, a warning in her tone. “Don’t even go there, Kyle.” She told him like it was. Over. “If I’d wanted you in my life, I would have shown up at the church.”

He scowled, his gaze raking over her, making her feel as if she’d been scraped raw with a knife. She tried to look away, but couldn’t and Maxie told herself it didn’t do any good to notice how well the heavy cable-knit sweater clung to him, how well the rich green shade showed off his eyes and dark hair. It would be wiser to notice only one thing about him... the barely checked hostility in his eyes.

“Still heartless, eh, Max?”

She reared back. “Go to hell, Kyle.”

A single brow arched, a dark wing over his penetrating eyes. “You’re the one prepared for the trip.”

She looked down at the pitchfork in her hand. Damn him. Damn him for coming into her life again, for making her see she couldn’t escape her mistakes. She was mortally ashamed of how she’d treated him all those years ago, but Maxie had more at risk now than old feelings. She knew what her decision had cost her. And she’d paid for it in more ways than he could ever imagine. But it would be just like a man to want to hear the gory details of how badly she’d suffered, too. And she wasn’t about to give him more fodder to feed on.

She met his gaze. “We haven’t seen each other in seven years, so don’t assume you know me anymore, because you don’t.” She pulled off her gloves and jammed them in her hip pocket, moving toward the horse.

He rolled the duffel off his shoulder and dumped it on the dirt floor.

Maxie’s gaze lowered to his name stenciled on the canvas, and she froze as recognition dawned. It was the same seabag he’d had when she’d last seen him. Her gaze flew to his, and something flickered in his eyes just then. The cold air between them crackled. Her skin flushed. For a moment, they were alone in his barracks room, groping at each other, their wild hunger making them impatient enough not to bother taking off all their clothes.

Kyle’s heart did a quick slam in his chest at the familiar heat in her green eyes, vivid enough to create an ache in his groin. Damn. He hated and wanted her all in one breath. It wasn’t natural. What was, was his need to shake her, to demand why she’d abandoned him so brutally when he’d needed her the most.

Maxie Parrish had been his biggest heartache and his greatest humiliation.

But he was over her now. If he wasn’t, he would have looked her up long before now and certainly before this contracted deal with his chopper put him in her life. Regardless, Kyle’s gaze unwillingly lowered over the long slim body he remembered in his dreams. Her faded plaid shirt shaped her torso better than silk, loose shirttail over jeans worn nearly white and fitting her like skin. Her boots were scarred and caked with dirt. The Maxie he remembered was always dressed to kill and never without makeup. This woman had muddy knees and chipped nails.

But she was the same woman who’d deserted him without explanation, he thought as she reached out to unsnap the horse’s lead.

He caught her wrist as she passed, and their gazes clashed. “You’re wrong, Max. I know you better than any man.”

She tugged on his grip. “You’re dreaming. Again.”

With a jerk, he pulled her against him, hemming her in between his body and the wall as his free hand slipped smoothly inside her down vest. The cold air rushed into her lungs at the contact, then staggered as his fingers found their way beneath her shirttails, touching her bare skin.

Lord. It was as soft as he remembered, satiny, warm, making his body throb for her.

“Kyle, don’t.” She wiggled her wrist, but he held tight, even as his mind screamed at him to quit torturing himself, that he wasn’t prepared for any involvement with her, not again, not after the way she’d humiliated him. Yet without thought, he spread his hand over the small of her back, driving his palm upward, caressing, feeling. She was naked beneath the faded shirt.

“Oh, Maxie,” he hissed softly, and her eyes softened, drifting closed, her body gravitating toward him and he remembered... remembered tasting her skin, lying naked with her, being buried deep inside her soft body. His groin thickened painfully, and he pressed her into it. His face neared, his lips a breath from hers. He drank in her startled gasp as his hand swept around to enfold her bare breast, his thumb heavily circling her tight nipple. A moan escaped him, unheeded, like a long-awaited burst of freedom. That this, the passion, the desire neither could fight or understand, hadn’t changed, was a complication he hadn’t expected. Suddenly it made him feel unreasonably weak.

And he resented it.

Feebly Maxie wrestled against him, but the liquid heat blossoming through her body with every tiny movement of his fingers was hard to ignore. She’d hoped if this moment ever came, that her feelings would be faint, like an old wa tercolor, yet they were more like a cattle stampede, coming from all directions with a force that defied nature. Her knees softened, and all at once she was hot and hungry, vulnerable for the caress of a man. This man. No one made her feel like she did when Kyle Hayden touched her. The passing years had done nothing to extinguish it; in fact the ache in her was blistering, just waiting to be uncapped. She gripped his jacket lapel to keep from sinking into the floor and waited for more.

“Some things you just can’t forget, eh, baby?”

His mocking tone startled her, awakened her, and she knew in an instant he was throwing their past in her face. She focused on his eyes and found shaded indifference, a callous man without sympathy for how the past seven years had treated her.

She wrenched free and stepped back, furious with herself and him. “Yeah, but what we do about it is another,” she snapped, embarrassed she was so spineless when he touched her. “That’s all we had, Kyle.” She leaned a bit closer, her voice low with hot anger. “A little wild sex. Nothing more.” The lie rolled too easily off her lips. “At least I was smart enough to see that passion wasn’t enough for a lifetime.” She started past him.

He caught her, swiftly pressing her up against the wall and covering her mouth with his. He kissed her and kissed her, his tongue plunging between her lips, his hands diving beneath her shirt and molding her bare breasts. His hat tumbled to the ground as she growled against his mouth, teetering on surrender.

This is so good, she thought. He pushed his knee between her thighs, and she instinctively bore down on him, her fingers sinking into his hair and grabbing fistfuls, holding him as she paid him back touch for touch.

Suddenly he jerked back, staring. His lungs worked violently.

Her breath brushed his lips.

He arched a brow. “Not enough, Max?” The malevolence in his dark eyes was enough to make her see the moment for what it was. A humiliation. A payback.

She shifted past him, ignoring the feel of his eyes on her back as she headed out of the barn.

Kyle remained motionless, grinding his teeth, his gaze on her as she negotiated her way around tack and hay bales. He resented the hell out of it since he couldn’t even manage to move without snapping in half. And he was ashamed of himself for what he’d just done. But he’d never had much control around Maxie and knew the instant he’d seen her in the barn, he should have made an about-face and flown right out of there.

He stared at the dirt floor, rubbing the back of his neck. That was one hell of a reunion, he thought. But ending their relationship years ago was her choice, not his. She’d made the decision for them, excluding him completely and running like a coward. She never gave him the courtesy of having his say in the matter. The humiliation and agony of that day flooded through him again, and he clenched his fist over and over, wishing he’d never laid eyes on her again. He didn’t trust her. And the tightness crowding his jeans told him he shouldn’t trust himself around her, either. Nor could he board here for the next two weeks. No way. Seeing Maxie for ten minutes was enough to make him consider subcontracting out this flight obligation. That’s if he could have afforded it.

He had to make other arrangements. That was all there was to it Maybe the park service had something else, and he decided he would go check.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he grabbed up his seabag and strode to the entrance, but stopped abruptly when he saw her cross the yard to a horse trailer hitched behind a black Range Rover. She’s tucked her shirt in, he thought as she released the trailer door, lowering it to the ground, then disappeared inside, coming out seconds later leading a chestnut mare by the bridle. Her moves were confident as she led the animal into the paddock and out of his sight. Kyle tried not to crane his neck for a better look and stormed to his chopper. How could he hunger for a glimpse of her and curse the urge at the same time?

Outside, the wind howled around her Range Rover, and Maxie keyed the engine, letting the vehicle warm up. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to the cold steering wheel and warned herself not to cry.

This was the worst, she thought. The absolute worst. That kiss—no—that mauling in the barn warned her not to give Kyle an inch. She smacked the steering wheel, angry with him for taunting her like that and herself for falling for him like a starry-eyed schoolgirl. Being weak-kneed around a man hadn’t happened to her...in seven years.

Oh, why did he have to show up now? Her priorities had been screwed up for years, and now that she’d gotten them in order, she didn’t want him coming in and fouling everything up. She was happy, for crying out loud. And for whatever reason Kyle was here, other than being a part of the standby rescue team for the park service, was meaningless. He no longer rated a priority in her life. She told herself that over and over, forcing herself to recall the look in his eyes after he’d kissed her, as if disgusted that the desire they’d once shared was stronger than ever. He was a bitter, angry man, and seeing him again only served to bring back the guilty pain. Just being within five feet of him was proof enough that her decision all those years ago had been the correct one. And she wasn’t letting him back into her life.

She threw the truck into gear and drove off.

Maybe he wouldn’t be needed. Maybe enough of the crew was well enough to work. Maybe the storm predictions were wrong, and he would just disappear again. Yeah, right, a voice pestered. And maybe everything would fall apart just when you got the glue to stick.

Maxie drove, blinking back the tears she refused to shed for him.

Please go away, she prayed as his helicopter passed overhead. Because it was only going to get worse. Worse when he discovered that not only did she leave him at the altar, but he had a six-year-old daughter with a woman he loathed.

Two

In the rescue station, Kyle stared at the men and women relaxing in the worn leather sofas and chairs arranged around a couple of coffee tables.

“Okay, so what are you guys not telling me?” he said after another crew member refused to trade sleeping arrangements with him. He was willing to sleep anywhere if it meant he didn’t have to look at Maxie before coffee. Unfortunately no one was cooperating.

“Parrish is a lousy cook,” a man finally admitted, sinking back into the body-molding leather chair.

“You know this for a fact?” The idea that half of these men knew Maxie’s cooking soured his mood even further.

A few exchanged knowing glances. “Reputations have a way of escalating.”

“So don’t eat at her place.”

“I could say the same to you, Hayden,” his temporary boss, Jackson Temple, said on a laugh as he passed the cluster of personnel.

Kyle made a frustrated sound. “Look, I’ll make switching worth it.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Hoots and whistles sounded seconds later. Kyle didn’t have the sense to be embarrassed. Seeing Maxie on a regular basis was too unpleasant to even consider.

“Watch out, folks, he’s desperate,” someone said.

A black-haired man frowned curiously. “How much we talking here, Hayden?”

“A hundred?” Good Lord, he sounded pathetic, Kyle thought.

“Food mean that much to you, flyboy?” came from another team member.

“No,” he muttered, fisting cash. His sanity did.

“Then why?”

Jackson Temple cleared his throat, then nodded slightly at the doors.

The conversation died a quick, painful death as Kyle looked up, his gaze colliding with a pair of green eyes so aloof he couldn’t begin to speculate on what she was thinking. He only knew that she’d heard. Everything.

Then she crossed to the office and murmured smugly, “Bet the back seat of that chopper’s looking real good right now,” as she passed him.

Kyle closed his eyes briefly, feeling like a heel. He didn’t know if it was the smirk on her face she tried to pass off as a smile or the way she brushed aside the discussion he was a jackass for even starting with people he’d just met, but these were her friends. He didn’t want to embarrass her. What went on between them had nothing to do with the life she’d made for herself here.

Kyle jammed his cash into his pocket and waved off a crewman who looked guilty enough to concede. He looked up as she shut the office door, closing Jackson in with her. Through the glass, she met his gaze, her expression unreadable. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who’d turned to liquid heat in his arms a couple hours ago, and just the memory, the taste of her still on his lips, made his body tighten. Then she closed the blinds, shutting him out. Nothing new there, he thought, moving to a soda machine and dropping change into the slot, nearly knocking the thing over when he punched his selection. He had to get out of this somehow, he thought, pulling the tab and tipping it to his lips. He drained the soda, trying not to look at the office door, to the room where she was hiding from him. Again.

Inside the office, Maxie paced, not even bothering to take off her parka. On the way over, she’d radioed Jackson and without revealing why, she’d told him she didn’t want Kyle at her place. Jackson wasn’t cooperating.

“I thought you were my friend, Jackson. Move him to a hotel.”

The team chief chuckled, his chair creaking as he leaned back and watched her eat the carpet with her strides. “You’ve had boarders before, Parrish, what’s the deal?” She paused and leveled him a dark look, and the older man cringed dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, I won’t pry. Not that you’d ever give details.”

“You made the assignment.” She slapped her hands down on the desk and loomed. “Change it.”

“I can’t. There was no other choice.” He waved to the charts.

“There has to be.” Maxie already recognized the danger of being in the same state with Kyle, let alone seeing him every day, all day until his contract with the rescue team was finished.

“Not for a chopper. Fuel is too expensive to have him land anywhere else. Your ranch is the best place to set one down. Close. Low wind, lots of unobstructed area. You know that.” Her expression pleaded for a little understanding, and Jackson frowned. “I’ve never seen you like this, Maxine. He’s got you scared.”

She blinked, straightening. Scared? Of Kyle? She peeled off her jacket and tossed it aside before she plopped onto the sofa. Bracing her boots on the scarred table, she folded her arms over her middle and stared at nothing. She was not afraid of him. Just of him touching her. Her mind went blank when he did. And she couldn’t afford a single incoherent thought, for her daughter’s sake. Mimi depended on her mom keeping it together.

For the ride over here, for the time it took to feed and water the horses and mules on loan here, she’d done nothing but brood and stomp around, having herself a real nice pity party. She was glad Mimi was at her grandma’s for the next couple of days or she would be deflecting questions instead of old feelings. Mimi had a talent for seeing to the center of a problem and pestering till she had the entire truth. Or telling Maxie what she believed to be the truth, whether her mother wanted to hear it or not. It was one of the things Maxie liked best about her daughter, her candidness.

“I like him,” Jackson said.

Only her gaze shifted. “You would.”

“Apparently you did, too, at one time.”

She looked away. Yes, she’d loved him, or thought she had. Her timing was lousy when she’d wised up and realized it was mostly lust. Good lust, but not enough to base a lifetime on. Yet it was the immature way she’d left him that still haunted her.

Jackson’s words came back to her. Kyle had her running scared. She wouldn’t, not this time. She’d vanished on her wedding day, only to discover three weeks later that she’d jilted the father of her child. By then he was in Saudi with a broken heart and didn’t need to hear from her; he needed to think about staying alive. She had refused to run to him just because she was pregnant, yet knew he had a right to know about Mimi. As soon as his unit had returned, she’d called, left a message and got a terse reply via his big brother: “Don’t call back, he doesn’t want to see you again.”

She’d written him anyway, the hardest letter she’d ever had to pen. And it came back to her, unopened. The message was painfully clear.

But now he was here, and her daughter’s happiness was in jeopardy. Mimi was her first and only concern. She’d suffered the “almost my dad” attachment once too often, and Maxie would endure anything, even Kyle’s cruel remarks and glares, before she would allow her daughter to be hurt by her mistakes again. Suddenly she lurched off the couch and grabbed her jacket, donning it as she headed to the door.

“Maxine?”

“You need him to move the chopper, right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, eyeing her warily.

Maxie looked at him. “Then tell him to do it. I’ll be out at my place, waiting.”

“Are you saying he’s stuck with you?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I? I agreed in writing to let the rescue service use my land for their choppers. Besides—” she shrugged “—it’s a big place. A big house.” She could go an entire day without running into him if she tried hard enough. And she would.

Maxie threw the door open and smacked into Kyle’s chest. It was like hitting a brick wall, and he caught her shoulders, steadying her, yet keeping her close. Her gaze jerked to his, her hands flattened on his chest. For a long moment neither moved—Maxie lost in the familiar feel of his body molding to hers and the memories that came with it, Kyle wanting to touch more than her shoulders.

Someone cleared his throat. Kyle’s lips curved ever so slightly. But it was the self-satisfied twist to them that sent Maxie backpedaling...right into Jackson. From behind, Jackson settled his hands on her shoulders, and Kyle’s features tightened.

Even if Temple were in peak physical shape, he was a good dozen years older than Maxine, Kyle thought, then was angry with himself for the need to justify another man touching her.

“Fire up that bird, flyboy,” Jackson said. “Time to move it.”

Kyle lowered his gaze to Maxie’s and he found only resignation in her expression.

“It appears you’re staying at my place.”

So she could stick pins in a festering wound? “I’ll pass.”

The old rebellion he remembered in her rose to the surface.

“I think we can be adults about this.”

His eyes darkened and he scoffed. “That’s a first,”

She smirked, folding her arms. “Being your usual witty self, I see.”

Kyle knew she was referring to the ugly remarks he’d made this morning. He regretted that his emotions got the best of him and was determined not to let it happen again. He just wished she still didn’t turn him on like a light switch.

Jackson squeezed her shoulders, silencing another dig, and Maxie patted Jackson’s fingers, then glanced back at him. “See ya.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as she pushed past, walking briskly to the doors. He watched her go, then brought his gaze back to Jackson. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. If Maxie could appear casual about the arrangements, then so could he.

“Not a room available anywhere, flyboy, so what will it be? Maxine’s—” Jackson’s lips curved “—or the back seat of your chopper?”

Still Kyle fought the inevitable. “I could sleep here.” He’d seen four cots in a small room at the back of the station. And it was a tremendous waste of fuel to head home each night and get here when, and if, they needed him.

Jackson shook his head. “For the team on call, sorry.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and muttered a curse. “Not much of a selection left, then, huh?”

Jackson fought a grin and ever the diplomat, gestured inside the office. “Let’s get you some gear.”

Kyle followed. Jackson Temple was his boss for the next week or two, and although they’d only met earlier this morning, before seeing Maxie, Kyle liked him.

Kyle stood back as Jackson went to the cabinet and threw open the doors, withdrawing coils of nylon rope, extra rigs for mountain climbing, medical kits, a hand radio, a booklet of rules and regulations, authorization passes and stickers and the standard flame orange jacket the crew wore, fur lined and heavy. He stacked the gear on the sofa. “Check the radio—we’ve had a couple of duds lately.”

Kyle did, then started arranging the equipment in a spare duffel bag while Jackson wrote “Hayden” on a plastic tag and slipped it into the clear window above the chest pocket of the orange jacket.

“Thanks for showing up, Hayden,” he said, offering the jacket. Kyle looked up, accepting it, frowning. Jackson shrugged, then moved to the coffeemaker and poured a cup. “We’re badly shorthanded, with the flu going around. I appreciate your loan of the chopper.” He handed the steaming mug to Kyle. “I know this cuts into your paying business.”

“Just so you know, no one flies her but me.”

Jackson grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Possessive, huh?”

Kyle sipped. “Yeah, me and the bank are that way about things that aren’t paid for.” He set the cup aside to load gear.

Jackson chuckled, dropping into the seat behind the desk. He propped his boots on the edge. “So...how long have you known Maxine?”

Kyle stilled, frowning, then jammed ropes into the corner of the duffel. Maxine. He hadn’t heard anyone call her that since her father was yelling at her to come home, and she was ignoring him, riding away on the back of Kyle’s motorcycle.

“Years.”

Jackson frowned. “How many exactly?”

“Eight or so.” Kyle shrugged, zipping the bag closed. He met Jackson’s gaze. “You?”

“‘Bout three, ever since she an—ah...moved up here. And no, we’re just friends.” He sent Kyle a look that said dating Maxie was robbing the cradle in his eyes. “’Sides. No one gets near Maxine unless she wants it.”

Kyle knew that The woman he’d met today was a shadow of the Maxie he had loved. He insisted he didn’t care if she was cold. He just wanted to fulfill his obligation and get out of here. And avoiding her was his preference.

Kyle took up his mug and sank into the sofa, sipping, his gaze on the window. Maxie was climbing behind the wheel of her Range Rover and driving away.

“You two got a serious history, huh?”

Kyle’s lips tightened. He wasn’t about to let his personal life become the rescue-watch joke of the day. “Just a history. There’s got to be a room available somewhere else...?” He was a backup chopper pilot, nothing more. And if he didn’t have to be here, he for damn sure wouldn’t He looked to Jackson.

“Sorry, no.” Kyle didn’t care for the twinkle in Jackson’s eyes just then. “Now, get your chopper off my triage pad, Hayden. It stays at the Wind Dancer until you’re needed.”

Kyle didn’t like this, yet stood and hefted the duffel full of gear.

“Have fun.”

Kyle glared at Jackson. The man grinned back.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Probably more if I knew what it was all about—” he shrugged “—but yeah. I haven’t seen any excitement in months. You know, people being cautious. Obeying the rules. Puts me out of a job.”

Kyle couldn’t fight the smile working out from beneath his scowl. “Call if you need me,” he said, holding out his hand. Jackson shook it, and the two men parted.

Kyle took his time and walked outside, shrugging deeper into his jacket and donning his gloves against the cold. The wind whistled softly, but the temperature was dropping. Not any more than when he was near Maxie, he thought, tossing the emergency gear next to his seabag in the chopper, then climbing inside. He stared at the control panel, delaying the inevitable and disgusted with the fates that were screwing with his perfectly ordered life. Checking the dials and his watch, he refitted his sunglasses for the third time before turning over the engine, the blades swiping the air, gaining speed with each turn. Adjusting his radio headset, Kyle waited until he had the ground crewman’s signal, then lifted off, tipping the chopper to the right and heading toward Maxie’s place. He was anxious and if he had to admit it, fearful. It was too much like Iraq, flying into a hot landing zone. But Kyle had an idea that living under the same roof with the only woman he’d ever wanted to marry would be like living under enemy gunfire. With him unarmed.

A half hour later, Maxie watched his approach from the steps of her front porch. His helicopter was black with a sunrise painted on the side in bright red, orange and metallic gold. His name was stenciled below the pilot’s window. Before he was close enough to set the chopper down, she stepped off the porch, walking toward the flattened ground several hundred yards beyond the main buildings. Dread moved through her with every step, and she tipped her cowboy hat low on her forehead and tried to appear as relaxed as possible. But her insides were twisting in tight knots, nauseating her.

This is for Mimi, she reminded herself. If Maxie avoided Kyle, he would just get curious and ask questions, which would inevitably lead to ones concerning Mimi. For the briefest moment, when she’d first seen Kyle after so long, she’d considered stashing Mimi’s things, closing off her room and letting her daughter stay longer at her grandmother’s to avoid any contact with him. But the thought had died as quickly as it had formed. She couldn’t do it. Mimi was everything to her, and she was proud of her little girl. She had had no reason to hide her six years ago and she wouldn’t do it now. Besides, Kyle had made it clear by not answering her letters that he’d no interest in what happened to her after their breakup, and if his present attitude was any indication, he still didn’t Nothing had changed.

Suddenly the image of her daughter—dark red hair in braided pigtails and bright, expressive green eyes-burst in her mind, like Mimi always burst into the house. No, she corrected, everything had changed from the moment she’d met her daughter. I miss her, she thought, then stiffened her spine, determined to get through the next couple weeks without any more emotional scratches.

Dust and dirt kicked up as the chopper neared, and she admitted she was impressed at how he lowered the craft gracefully to the ground. The noise immediately lessened, the blades beating the air in a slow drone. Maxie stopped, shoving her gloved hands into her jacket pockets, and didn’t approach as he flipped switches, then removed the radio headset and a baseball cap. Even from here, she could tell the cap had the Marine Corps emblem on it. He pushed open the door and climbed out, opened the rear hatch and removed his seabag. That faded piece of military luggage was a constant reminder of their last night together. She wanted to burn it, but he hitched it over his shoulder, then reached for a black cowboy hat, donning it as he walked toward her. Her heart jumped in her chest, her gaze moving over him. Even hidden behind sunglasses and beneath the hat, he still had the rugged good looks that made women sigh. She couldn’t fight the riot suddenly skipping through her as his thigh muscles flexed with each stride. She remembered what his skin felt like beneath her palms, his body wrapped around hers and what an unselfish lover he’d been. A warm coil of heat curled through her, tightening her breasts, tingling up the back of her thighs. Her knees felt papery, and Maxie jerked her gaze away, staring anywhere except at him. It would not help to think this way, she reminded herself, shoving her sunglasses back up her nose. Kyle was the last person she wanted in her life, not to mention in her bed.

Kyle stopped directly in front of her, and she looked at him as he nudged his hat back. He wanted to see what was going on behind those sunglasses and knew she wore them to shield more than just the sun. He tipped his down, peering, and liked that she tensed. His gaze lowered to her lips, and the intensity of their kiss in the barn ripped through him. He was aching for another taste when the husky sound of her voice made his heart skip.

“Welcome to Wind Dancer, Kyle.”

His lips quirked. “Am I welcome, Max? Or tolerated?”

“A little of both,” she said honestly, not moving a muscle, even when she could feel the heat of his body, see every sinfully long lash surrounding his dark eyes. A brave front, she thought.

Kyle glanced briefly at the ranch house beyond her and imagined what it would be like, living with her. Did she still go nuts over chocolate and hate asparagus? he wondered, looking down at her. Did she still have a wild collection of lingerie that had always made him hot just to look at her and wonder what feminine scrap was beneath her clothes? Even as the enticing thought materialized, he knew he was in for torment. With himself. Don’t let her get to you. Don’t. This is one woman you cannot trust.

The sudden surge of anger made his voice harsh. “Where should I stow my gear?”

She stepped back. “That’s all you have?” She nodded to the seabag.

“I travel light.”

His tone was clipped and Maxie sighed. Clearly he didn’t want to play this beyond the edge of civility. Fine. At least she was making an effort. She spun around, and he followed her to the house, both silent.

But Kyle’s gaze was on her back, more so—her backside. And the way it filled those tight jeans enough to fill his mind with nothing but what was beneath and seeing her again without them. Man, oh man, this was tough already, and he forced himself to remember every detail of their wedding day. She was a selfish coward, plain and simple, he thought as he mounted the porch steps behind her. She opened the door, walking briskly inside.

Crossing the threshold, Kyle regained his determination as he removed his sunglasses and hat. His gaze quickly scanned the Southwest decor of beige walls, terra-cotta-hued furniture, the room dotted with blue-and-coral trimmings. The warmth of the decor settled into him instantly, calming the tension he’d felt since he landed on her property. He spotted baskets filled with odd collections of croquet balls, oversize wooden spools of thread and even branding irons. Antique oil cans were tucked here and there, some hidden by plants, others in plain sight like the grouping near a sixfoot-wide fireplace dominating the living room. Kyle liked it and thought it suited her. At least this new Maxie.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“To hide,” he added.

Over the rim of her sunglasses, she slid him a frosty glance as she stripped off her jacket. “I wasn’t hiding, Kyle,” she defended, removing her shades. “I’ve been right here.”

“But who knew?”

“Anyone who was interested did,” she snapped, and was about to add to her defense, then closed her mouth and hung her hat and parka on a peg near the door. She didn’t need to provoke questions, she thought, reminding herself to stop responding to his remarks. He had no right to be curious about her life. Crossing the foyer, she turned down a hall. After passing four doors, she stopped near the last on the right, throwing it open.

“In here,” she said, leaning back against the frame and folding her arms like a warden outside a jail cell

Kyle moved past her, his big body brushing hers, and he felt a subtle heat stroke up his body. He stilled, searching her gaze and wondering if she felt it. Wondering if he’d imagined those moments in the barn.

“The bath is next door. Dinner is in—” she checked her watch “—about a half an hour.” She turned away.

Summarily dismissed, he thought, but then something made her pause, her hand on the door frame. She looked back, meeting his gaze across the wide brass bed. Kyle felt the world, the room, tighten down on him, focusing on her eyes, green and clear. Wavy dark red hair fell over one eye, partially shielding her face. Her stare was confident, even when he let his meander over her wind-chapped cheeks, her tightly tucked shirt molding to her breasts, defining their fullness. Her nipples tightened, pushing against the fabric, and his gaze flew to her face. Her expression didn’t alter a fraction. Lord, she was still so beautiful, he thought, ageless, and for a moment he was twenty-three and so hungry for her he couldn’t think straight. So in love with her his arms ached.

Something flickered in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifted wistfully. “Make yourself at home, Kyle. The fridge is stocked with snacks...and beer.”

He breathed his first normal breath since walking through the door. “thanks, Max.” He dumped the seabag on the bed before he did something stupid like grab her against him.

“Think nothing of it,” she said, and by her tone, he knew she meant it. He was immediately on guard again. He was right. This was like waiting for enemy gunfire.

Maxie hastened down the hall, ignoring the heat jumping through her body, ignoring the fact that he could still just look at her and make her crave his arms around her, long for the throb of his kiss again...and force her to relive when she was young and innocent and Kyle was the dangerous man her father didn’t want near. And she ignored the fact that he was in the room directly across from hers.

She paused in the hallway, grabbing the edge of the secretary and closing her eyes against her image in the glass. She was a fool to believe she could handle being this close to him. Not when he could peel away her secrets with a look. Memories pelted her like an acid rain without relief, and she longed for Mimi’s little arms around her neck, the warmth of her little body snuggled close where she could protect her daughter from the world. From this kind of heartache.

Pushing away from the secretary, she walked to the living room and built a fire in the hearth, staring as the blaze roared to life. For a brief moment, her mind wandered, selecting a scene out of their past when they’d gone to Mexico and woken with one hell of a hangover in the back of a vegetable truck in Encinada. With no idea of how they’d got there. At the time, it was fun and funny, but on her wedding day, it had just sounded stupid. The ache of memory caught in her chest. She’d cried for weeks back then. For the decent, trusting man she’d hurt, for leading him to believe she would be there for him when she couldn’t and for the innocence she’d left behind.

The pop of burning wood startled her, and she blinked, expecting her eyes to be wet with tears. They weren’t, yet her heart felt sore. She stared at the ember just on the edge of the hearth, then quickly kicked it back and replaced the fireplace screen. It reminded her that memories were threatening and she couldn’t afford to be this melancholy. Not with her daughter’s contentment at stake. Moments later, she donned her jacket and hat, then left the house, slamming the door closed and wishing she could shut Kyle out of her life as easily.

Kyle flinched when he heard the door shut, the vibration rattling the walls. Closing the dresser drawer, he stared out the window, his gaze following her as she crossed the yard to the huge barn. Her steps were angry and quick. He could see her inside the barn, bundled up against the cold, her beige cowboy hat tipped low as she walked down the center aisle, lugging a bucket of feed, he assumed. Did she do everything around here alone? He watched her for a moment until she vanished into a stall, then turned away from the window.

Kyle looked around the room, the soft Southwestern decor carried over in here, too. It didn’t soothe him this time, and he shoved his fingers into his hair. A tension he hadn’t felt since Saudi radiated through him, and he tried to shake it. He couldn’t and sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He had to get a handle on his emotions. But part of him said to exercise it, get it out, just keep his hands off her and his desire locked away. But he kept remembering the moments in the barn, the hot feel of her skin in the cold air, her ferocious passion unleashing on him and his desperate need to absorb it. It was as if he’d come alive for the first time in seven years and every cell in his body wanted him to know it

But he made himself recall their past, and he was tucked deep inside it when he heard his name and looked up. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest

Maxie.

“You okay?” she said, frowning. “Dinner is almost ready, if you’re hungry.”

He looked away, nodding, anger simmering, the pain of his memories stronger and harder than he thought possible. She was a coward, damn her. She’d made the decision to walk away, alone, never giving him the courtesy of talking with him about what she was feeling. She’d stolen their prospect at happiness, his one chance. And as he turned his head to see her disappear from the doorway, he told himself he wasn’t falling for her charm again. He was not here to see if her cowardice was a mistake or a godsend.

Three

Kyle held on to his resentment, his only comfort right now, and snapped, “I’m not eating a damn thing you cook. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Fine, don’t. Starve. See if I care.” Pigheaded man, Maxie thought, and didn’t spare him a backward glance as she walked briskly down the carpeted hall. Her boot heels clicked on the wood foyer as she crossed it into her tiled kitchen.

Kyle followed, his gaze unwillingly dropping to her behind shifting inside tight jeans. He immediately cursed his preoccupation, even as he noticed that she’d changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Your compassion astounds me, Max.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.” She moved to the stove, grabbing a mitt to open the oven. Bending to remove a baking tray, she set it on the cutting board, the scent of broiled salmon and Dauphine potatoes making her mouth water. With quick efficiency, she pulled two small salads from the refrigerator, positioning them by the service already set She served the food onto plates, aware of his gaze following her moves. She didn’t have to look to know he was standing near the arched entrance. His eyes had the power of touch, always had, and her frustration mounted as she struggled with opening the soda bottles.

It was only five-thirty, and she wished the day were over. Not that she’d allow his presence in her house to keep her from her routine. She had a living to make. Kyle or no Kyle.