Subject: Lt. Commander Mark Sampson

Mission: Keep his eyes on the skies...despite one sexy distraction!

There are things a man can never undo. For Coast Guard search and rescue pilot Mark Sampson, it was the agonizing decision that cost him a teammate—and his faith in himself. But an unbelievably sexy blonde on a secluded beach may help him forget...if only for a night.

Cassie Rowe needed a distraction—and, boy, did she get one! How was she to know the brooding stranger who rocked her world was the pilot who’d left her brother to die? And now they’re on the same mission. She should hate him. But she can’t fight the storm of desire threatening to pull them under...

“I can’t let you on my aircraft,” Mark said.

“Stop trying to control me. I won’t be meek Cassie again.”

He wanted her to be bold, too. How could he argue against that?

Bending his head, he found the beat of her pulse and he brushed his lips against it. “What if we forget everything else for tonight and just...”

Her lips curled into a sexy, sassy smile, then she shouted a challenge and took off. Her long hair flew behind her as she raced down to the water, and excitement surged and he sprinted after her.

Just before she reached the water, he grabbed her waist and swung her around. Their laughter rang out, then faded when he turned her in his arms and lowered her slowly along the length of his body, feeling every luscious inch of her.

He placed his hands around her face and pulled it gently to him. “You’re not meek,” he whispered against her mouth.

“What am I, then?”

“Mine,” he groaned, and his mouth captured hers. He didn’t know if he could protect her from the storm tomorrow, but he could shelter her tonight, comfort her the only way he knew how...

Dear Reader,

Everyone has dealt with loss. Sometimes we face it head-on. Other times, it’s so far down, we deny ourselves the chance to ever fully heal. But generally when we’re forced to deal with our regrets—and we always are—the path to understanding, acceptance and forgiveness isn’t as unpassable as we expect. When someone truly loves us, they open our hearts and help us to let go of a dark past to embrace a brighter future. Suddenly we see that we have so much to live for, starting with the person who wouldn’t give up on us, who believed, even when we didn’t, that we were worthy of happiness and love. Together.

As you can imagine, that road isn’t an easy one to travel for LCDR Mark Sampson and Cassie Rowe, RN. The grieving nurse and the tortured USCG pilot she blames for her brother’s loss can’t resist their combustible passion during their hurricane mission. But will they find the closure and healing they need in each other’s arms and make it through the storm at last?

I hope you enjoy His to Protect. Be sure to look for my next Uniformly Hot! novel, book two in my USCG No Defenses series, At His Command, in spring 2017. I’d love to hear from you at karenrock.com. or come chat with me on Twitter, @KarenRock5 or Facebook, at Facebook.com/karenrockwrites.

Best wishes,

Karen

His to Protect

Karen Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ROCK is an award-winning young adult and adult contemporary author. She holds a master’s degree in English and worked as an ELA instructor before becoming a full-time author. Most recently, her Harlequin Heartwarming novels have won the 2015 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award and the 2015 Booksellers’ Best Award. When she’s not writing, Karen loves scouring estate sales, cooking and hiking. She lives in the Adirondack Mountain region with her husband, daughter and Cavalier King Charles spaniels. Visit her at karenrock.com.

This book is dedicated to the top emergency-response unit in the world, the USCG Air and Sea Rescue personnel. They routinely put the lives of others before their own, applying intense physical and mental training to challenging real-world situations where there’s often no margin for error. These brave men and women embody the courage of America’s Coast Guard, readily going into harm’s way to complete their rescue missions in some of the most extreme environments imaginable.

Our world is a safer place because of their selflessness, dedication and bravery. They personify the Coast Guard’s motto, Semper Paratus, “Always Prepared.” I’m deeply grateful for their sacrifice and inspired by their service. Special thanks to CDR Bill Friday, USCG Jayhawk pilot and trainer, who gave me incredible insight and provided intimate details into the rigors of this challenging profession.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Extract

Copyright

1

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.

“Cassie.” She set down her glass and wiped her hand on a cocktail napkin before folding her fingers around his.

Her touch was cool and impossibly soft, her charm bracelet grazing his skin before she pulled away. The tug of arousal he felt was immediate and too strong to ignore. Which meant sitting with her tonight was going to be more than a distraction.

“Cassie, I’ll be honest with you.” He didn’t want to mislead her and he didn’t know if he could rein himself in when she stirred this kind of response. “I’m not the best company tonight—”

“Maybe you should let me be the judge of that.” Her blue eyes met his head-on with a look that wasn’t quite as innocent, the self-consciousness he’d detected earlier giving way to a mix of teasing determination.

In fact, he suspected this awkward beauty was flirting with him.

He felt his lips twitch. “You think?”

“I’m definitely no bar scene expert, but I know what intrigues a woman. I can be a fair judge.”

“And how exactly are you making your evaluation?”

He might be on edge tonight, but that wasn’t her problem. Besides, something about this woman shrunk the shadows inside him. He’d linger a little longer. Find out more about her.

She leaned in close and he inhaled her honey-and-vanilla scent. This near, he could make out the pale freckles sprinkled across her nose.

“Well.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s get the superficial out of the way first and judge you on your looks.”

The soda burned as he swallowed the wrong way. He appreciated a direct woman. Didn’t encounter as many as he’d like, though. “And how am I doing?”

“On a ten-point scale?” Her eyes slid along the length of him and lingered on his mouth long enough to raise his temperature, his libido firing. “I’d say a nine.”

“And what did I lose a point on?” He shouldn’t be here, flirting with a woman who didn’t have nearly enough hard edges to be a part of his world. But she amused him. And if he left, who would be looking out for her?

She shrugged sun-kissed shoulders, making the left sleeve slide nearly to her elbow. His mouth flooded. A hungry dog drooling over a juicy bone. “Not much, really. But I couldn’t inflate your ego more by giving you a perfect score on your looks.”

“Who said I have an ego?”

She laughed, a tinkling, bubbling sound that sparked like a flare inside him. “Puh-lease. A woman sees confidence on a man from a mile away.”

A smile maneuvered its way around his face. A damned unfamiliar feeling. “Point taken. Next category?”

“Then we’d move on to more important things. Like humor.”

“Can I throw out the judge’s highest and lowest scores?”

“I’m your judge and your jury.” She pointed a swizzle stick at him. “But since that was sort of funny, I’ll let you slide with a seven point five.”

“I’ll take it.” With his mood, he would have scored himself a lot lower, although the night didn’t seem half as dark with Cassie across the table from him. “Is your next category about money?”

“You think that’s all women care about?” She glanced over her shoulder as she said the words, her gaze taking in the men waving green bills at the bartender. “The size of your wallet?”

“That and the size of our—”

“Regardless,” she interrupted. “I was thinking the next category would be class.”

Another sip of soda polished off his drink. He should leave, but with the alluring, teasing woman beside him, he was no longer sure he wanted to escape. “What’s my number?”

“An eight. You lose two for not offering me a cocktail as soon as I sat down.” Her impish grin reappeared and his body tightened at the small, sexy space between her front teeth. “You must have known I was nervous.”

He wondered why a beautiful woman would be nervous about sharing his table, but she seemed relaxed enough now. He didn’t want that smile of hers to fade.

“I hope it’s not too late to fix that.” He waved over the waitress hovering on the edge of the crowd. “A drink for the lady.”

Cassie frowned. “I wasn’t going to drink any more tonight. But maybe just one.” Glancing up at the server, she quizzed her on the tequila choices before deciding. “Margarita on the rocks, salt not sugar.”

“Not sweet, then?” he teased once they were alone again, enjoying this time with the woman keeping him on his toes and out of his dark thoughts.

“Sweetness doesn’t get you far in life, I’ve learned.” Shadows crossed through her blue gaze for a moment, but then she blinked and the look disappeared. “I’m cultivating a tart side.”

“You’ll need that if you decide to spend much time at Mayday’s.” He didn’t like thinking about her here without him, though. He changed topics fast. “Next category?”

“Power.” Her lips pursed as she considered him, the move making him uncomfortably aware of the fullness of her mouth. “You’re a ten.”

His pulse slugged hard, this flirtation ratcheting up the heat in a hurry.

“A perfect score.”

She biffed his bicep. “Really? Like you don’t notice the waitresses falling over themselves to obey your every command?”

As if to underscore her words, the server hustled back with the beverage.

“Would you?” he asked once they were alone again, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

She sucked slowly on a lime wedge, each second of silence building the tension between them. “That remains to be seen,” she said at last.

Which was definitely not a no. Damn but she was keeping him guessing.

“Depending on...?” He balled his hands on his thighs then forced his fingers to relax. Why push this? He had every intention of leaving. With his drink finished, he was out of excuses to dawdle with this tempting woman. He blamed his mouth. Always open one sentence too long.

“How you score in the rest of my categories,” she countered, leaning closer. The move outlined full breasts beneath the gauzy fabric of her dress as her long, silky legs appeared and disappeared when she uncrossed them.

He looked away, beating back the sexual attraction firing through him. He hadn’t expected this tonight. Definitely not from a woman like Cassie.

“And how many more are there?” A throaty growl had entered his voice, an impatient sound, a hunger he couldn’t hide behind some teasing word game.

“Just one.”

He kept his eyes on the bouncers setting up a row of chairs on the emptying dance floor. Forced his focus off her tongue as she swiped at the salt on the rim of her glass.

“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here,” he admitted, thinking more time with Cassie could make the hours between now and the next mission disappear.

Better yet, she might make those hours better than just bearable. He hadn’t allowed himself that kind of pleasure since...

A stab of pain behind his eyes reminded him exactly how long it had been. To the day. The hour.

She reached out a hand and covered his wrist.

“You okay?” The flirtatious look had vanished, making him realize he’d be an ass to walk away from this chance to exorcise a few demons tonight.

“I could be better,” he started, ready to detail exactly how.

But just then the damn DJ stepped forward and the crowd hushed. “Ladies, it’s time to grab a partner for our lap dance contest. The longer you keep from touching your male dancer, the longer the couple stays in. The woman with the most—er—control, takes home this magnum of champagne...and your man.”

The guy hefted a bottle larger than his head.

Cassie lifted her eyebrows in question. Almost as if to ask him if that kind of game was a possibility. Something about her expression made his lower abs contract with swift, fierce need. Was she teasing him? He had a sudden urge to discover where she drew the line with this flirtation.

While the crowd responded to the DJ’s provocation, he flipped his hand so he was holding Cassie’s.

“So what’s that last category?” he pressed.

He squinted at her until her cheeks pinked and she squirmed. He wanted to haul her out of the bar and back to his room, where he could lose himself in that incredible body and mind-numbing sex.

But even if he was the type for casual hookups, something about her didn’t speak of one-night stands...despite her flirting. Maybe it was the pain tucked in the corners of her laughing eyes, the way her smiles slid off her face too fast, as if they rarely stuck. He was having a tough time reading her.

“It’s one I’m not prepared to judge just yet.” Her words were breathless.

He could feel the thrum of her pulse where he held her hand, the pace a rapid tattoo of nerves or excitement. Or something more.

“Now I’m even more curious.” He slid a thumb along the heart of her palm and imagined himself touching other parts of her that same way. With slow, lazy circles. “You can at least tell me what you would be critiquing.”

Her blues met and held his. No innocence there now. Only heat and daring.

“Sexual prowess.” She drew out the words like a long caress.

His whole body hardened like new-forged steel and just as hot.

They stared at each other across the table, the noisy world of the bar full of lap dancers not even a blip on his radar. He breathed in when Cassie exhaled, their shared air as hot as any kiss he’d ever tasted.

“You ready to cut out of here?” he asked, his voice low and his restraint disappearing.

He wanted nothing more than to drive her wild and fill her head with enough sexy dreams to satisfy her for the rest of the night. He tossed bills on the table, never taking his eyes off her.

She squeezed his hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”

2

LIVE A LITTLE?

Cassie cursed herself as she followed the tall, gorgeous stranger through the bar and out a side door that led onto the beach. Surely this was going too far, playing teasing games with a man she hardly knew after inviting herself to share his table. “Live a little” didn’t mean she should allow some alien consciousness to inhabit her body and make her say crazy, sexually charged things. Where the hell was her sense? Her reliable Midwestern restraint? The second-guessing?

But as she gripped Mark’s hand and allowed the warmth of his touch to seep into her skin, she couldn’t deny that he inspired something hot and raw inside her. An edgy, hungry feeling she’d never experienced before. What was it about him that made her take risks? Flirt wildly? Follow him out onto the beach...alone.

The funny part was, she trusted him more than she trusted herself. He hadn’t consumed any alcohol, for one thing, so she was certain he had his head screwed on straight. For another, she knew he had to be a military guy and that inspired a certain level of confidence. Especially here, in a town full of his peers. Plus, he hadn’t dragged her out onto the dance floor for the obvious bump and grind that some couples engaged in. All they’d done was talk, even when she’d been thinking wickedly explicit things about him back in that bar...

“It’s beautiful here,” Mark observed suddenly, face turned up to stargaze. They passed sweat-slicked men engrossed in a volleyball game under a flickering fluorescent lamp.

“And so warm.” She shivered as she said it, savoring the kiss of the Gulf breeze on her skin.

“You want to go for a walk?” He dropped his gaze back to her and she appreciated that he hadn’t simply shuttled her off to a hotel room after their suggestive game.

She needed to catch her breath.

“I’d like that.” Her heart beat a strange tempo when he slid his fingers from her chin and along her cheek, tracing the sensitive skin there, his gaze never leaving hers.

There was a brief silence, interrupted by the cry of gulls hovering over them. Mark looked at her for a few drawn-out seconds, the heat in his eyes making her shiver. Then he reached out a hand. “Let’s go this way.”

His fingers twined with hers and goose bumps rose on her arms as they strolled to the water.

Ahead of them the surf pulsed, rushing and foaming on the sand. Beach roses lined their path down to the shore, the smell faint and sweet in the salty air. She looked up at the sky. So many stars, it seemed like a celebration, a fireworks display just for them.

She slid a sideways glance at him, taking in his chiseled profile. Noted the firm set of his jaw, his straight nose and strong brow. Features that exuded authority. Confidence. Security. The kind of face you’d want to see if you needed rescuing.

Her grief for Jeff fell away under the solid presence of Mark walking beside her. And she needed that tonight. Something about him made her feel different. Stronger. Sexier.

If she scurried back to her hotel room, she knew exactly what to expect. Nothing. Yet out here, with the wind gusting off the water, seabirds calling, salt water misting her face, a deep hunger stirred inside her. A wild thirst for the unknown.

Crazy or not, this was what her brother had wanted for her. To experience life on a large scale, well beyond the neat world she’d organized for herself back in Idaho.

Suddenly, warm water rushed across her feet and over her ankles. She gasped and stepped closer to shore then stopped when Mark’s arm came around her. He turned her toward him. Her hands landed on his lean waist, her fingers grazing his contracting stomach muscles beneath the crisp cotton of his T-shirt.

“I didn’t think the water came up this far.”

“The tide’s rising.” His voice was thick, distracted, as heat flared in his eyes.

“Oh,” she mumbled, her mouth dry, her body warm.

He reached out and stroked her hair, his gaze full of promise and something more. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

She understood what he was asking her. Appreciated that he’d given her some time to think. To be certain about the attraction and where it was headed.

But even with the fresh air to clear her thoughts, she still wanted him. Still craved the chance to feel all that warm male strength around her before she embarked on the most dangerous adventure of her life.

“Absolutely.” She slid her hand up his abdomen, teasing the hard ridges that moved and shifted beneath her touch. His chest rose sharply when her fingers rested on his pecs. Exhilaration forked through her.

“Cassie,” he groaned, stepping closer so that her feet brushed his in the shifting sand.

She rose on her toes and cupped her hands around the base of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers.

Bodies fusing at the same moment as their lips, nerve endings fired faster than the incoming tide. Hip to hip, breast to chest, her body curved into his, molding around all that hard, hot muscle. Pleasure tingled along her nerve endings, making her wriggle closer and sigh into his kiss.

She felt a low groan vibrate through his chest, but she didn’t hear it, the rush of waves drowning out everything else. Her breath caught at the back of her throat, her senses heightened. Every facet of the kiss imprinted itself on her consciousness, burrowing into her memory as if it would never leave.

He placed his hands on either side of her temples and kissed her gently, easing back ever so slightly. He traced her lips slowly with his tongue, then sucked on her lower lip in a way that made tension coil between her thighs. She wanted him. Wanted this.

But they were still too close to the bar.

Breaking the kiss, she whispered against his mouth, “Should we find somewhere more private?” Her dress rode up where she leaned into him, the denim on his thighs caressing her bare legs in a way that made her ache.

“Definitely.” Turning, he peered into the dark and pointed toward a sandy mound covered in sea oats with a shadowed area at the base.

There were no buildings. No lights.

“Let’s check it out.” She was already pulling him across the beach, calculating how fast she could have him all to herself. And then another thought occurred to her.

“Wait.” She stopped, kicking up sand as she spun. Her hand caught him midchest, halting him, too.

“I’m going to honor your wishes, no matter.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But I gotta say, I’d hoped we passed the ‘wait’ stage a while ago.”

“Me, too.” She licked her lips. “But I don’t have anything—that is, protectionwise—with me.”

“No worries.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “I’ve got that covered.”

Giddy relief lit her up inside and her smile matched his. A laugh bubbled up and she dragged him toward the sandy dunes. They reached the privacy of the sheltered area, where he stifled her laughter with hungry kisses, his hands entwined in her hair, his mouth warm on her lips. She kissed him back hard, not hesitating even when they heard voices from a boat out on the water, the dunes and sea oats hiding them from view. The space provided a private, intimate hideaway.

Closing her eyes, she tunneled her hands under his shirt, giving in to the insistent rush of pleasure that had started with the first accidental brush of their bodies. Now she could touch him. Taste him.

Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, so she dragged his shirt up and off his broad shoulders. She opened her eyes to see what she’d unveiled.

So. Fine.

Her hands moved to his waist, resting on the band of his jeans, ready for more. But then he stepped into her, his kiss hotter. Harder. She could feel how much he wanted her and she shifted her hips to cradle that hard length against her softness. Things were escalating fast and that’s just what she wanted. More. Faster.

Mark.

* * *

THE FEEL OF Cassie’s hips pressed to his wiped his brain of any last remnant of thought. There was only him, her and the heat of this longing.

If he didn’t take her soon, he would explode. He broke off, his hands on her face, and saw her eyes, heavy with longing. Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He cupped the back of her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before easing her down onto the warm sand.

“Mark,” she gasped, reaching for him. But he knew having her hands on him would only drive him faster. And she deserved better than a tumble in the dark.

He lay on his side instead and undid the button at the top of her dress. He worked his way down that trail of fastenings, forcing himself to take his time. His fingers fumbled, unsteady, when he reached the final enclosure at her hem and parted the material. He drew it off her shoulders and down her arms, tugging her hands free so that she lay on top of the dress, naked except for a lace bra and panties.

His muscles twisted. Pulsed.

She was incredible.

The lush curves of her breasts rose and fell beneath her bra, her nipples straining against the fabric. Electricity sparked through his veins as he traced one nipple, then the other, a sigh whispering in the air as she arched into his hand. His mouth went dry then flooded with moisture. Desire ran rampant through his body, filming it in a light sheen.

He flicked open the front clasp of her bra and the sight of her full, round breasts knocked the air from his lungs. Made his chest burn. Need and craving pounded through him. He groaned as he palmed their satisfying weight and filled his large hands with their petal-soft flesh. When he lowered his mouth and circled her nipples with his tongue, tugging lightly on the hard buds, Cassie whimpered. She tasted of spun sugar, and her honey-and-vanilla scent, combined with the fresh sea air, scrambled his thoughts.

There was no denying she was as turned on as he was. He could read it in the hungry glow of her eyes, the flush of her skin and the way she squirmed beneath his touch. She undulated her hips, ribs and spine as if urging him to explore. And he didn’t need the encouragement. The grip on his control slipped further still, her effect on him devastating and bone deep. He kissed her with greater urgency, murmuring her name.

He traced her slender rib cage hungrily, the inward turn of her waist and the delicate flare of her hips before drawing an invisible line down her quivering abdomen. At the lacy top of her panties he paused, then slid his hand slowly beneath the material.

Her head tipped back and her eyes closed as she groaned again, her response jolting him with pleasure. His hand cupped her sex, lingering over its wet warmth. Dampness flooded his fingers as he stroked her hot, silken flesh. The metal teeth of his zipper bit into his straining erection. Blood rushed to his groin and made him light-headed.

Her moans deepened, and she gasped when he circled her clit with his thumb. He thrust a finger inside her and stroked gently in and out. Her tight flesh clamped around him, making him imagine how it’d feel around his cock... Yet he held himself in check. Wanted to pleasure her first. Chase away the last of those shadows that’d lingered in her eyes.

He delved deeper and she shuddered, back arching and hips thrusting forward, her chest rising and falling fast. She cried out and convulsed as she pressed against his hand. Hard. Then she collapsed, limp in the sand. With her face damp and flushed, her glittering eyes unfocused, she looked every bit as sated as he wanted her to be. As he wanted to be. He blinked down at her, the pressure of his desire licking through his blood.

Her burning cheek rested against Mark’s rigid shoulder and her ragged breathing gradually slowed. Not wanting to rush her, he held himself in check—barely. Kept his balled hands at his sides. Waited. And waited. When he felt her fingers slowly lower his bulging zipper, he shuddered.

Her cool fingers wrapped around his aching erection, gently skimming the length. It took every ounce of focus not to explode in her hands like a teenager. Jesus. She drove him crazy. His guttural moan seemed to encourage her mind-blowing quest. Her fingers circled his damp tip, teasing, before trailing down his rigid shaft to cup the swelling sack below.

Time to end this torture. He yanked off his jeans and shirt, removed the condom he kept in his wallet, ripped open the foil package and rolled the sheath down his cock.

“You feel so good,” he groaned as he slid over her. Her legs lifted around his waist as he nudged her satin opening with his tip.

“Yes,” she breathed as he thrust home, filling her up, drowning her in sensation.

They came together slowly then faster and faster, her hold on him tightening, his lips grazing her skin, her breath ragged in his ear. As her movements grew more violent, he returned them, pulling out then burying himself in her again and again. His hips thrust powerfully and she tightened around him with every stroke.

Incredible. Mind-blowing. Sensational.

He leaned back on his heels and leveraged her up onto his lap, their bodies remaining joined. Her thighs straddled him as she rocked back and forth against his near-bursting hardness. He cupped her ass and kneaded its firm flesh, pressing her even closer, his cock buried to the hilt.

When she rose up and plunged down, he slipped to the edge, about to lose control. He wanted to prolong this moment. Savor it. Draw out each mouth-watering sensation, but it was beyond him. Instead, he held her tight, lifting and lowering her, over and over, faster and faster, their hips meeting frantically.

Their synchronized motion increased to a frenzied, heart-stopping tempo. Her breath came in fast, urgent pants that intensified until he heard the cry build at the back of her throat. When her head tipped back, he stopped her shriek with his mouth, absorbing the sound, her pleasure, so surely that it became his own. Her bouncing breasts, tight spasms and the surf pounding the beach in unison with his thrusts were suddenly too much. He exploded within her, the darkness inside him evaporating at this incredible release.

They fell back to the ground, limbs tangling, chests heaving, his arm around her shoulders as he pressed her close. She shivered, limp in his arms as they held each other.

When their breathing returned to normal, she raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. Something in her had altered: her features had lifted, the strain had vanished from around her eyes.

An unnamed emotion rolled through him, more satisfying, even, than this mind-blowing physical release. He’d eased her troubles as surely as she’d made him forget his own. He enclosed her in his arms again, pulling her to him so tightly that their bodies molded to one another, her soft curves fitting into his rough edges.

Just hours ago, she’d been a stranger but now...now...well, he couldn’t put a label on it. Just knew that he’d seek her out after the mission. See where this amazing thing between them might lead.

His train of thought was broken by her kissing his chest, his shoulder, his neck, with intense concentration. “You realize,” he said, rolling her over so that her legs were entwined with his, her mouth inches away, “that we’re going to have to do that again.”

“God. I hope so,” she sighed, her lids closing, a dimple appearing as her mouth curled up.

“Want to go for a swim first? I’ll wash you off.”

A wicked light appeared when her eyes snapped open, the color silver in the moonlight. “I’ll give you extra points if you can get the sand out of my hair.”

At the vision of his hands all over her naked body in the water, he hardened again. Before he let himself get too distracted, he got to his feet and held out a hand.

“I’m still waiting for my scores on sexual prowess,” he murmured, gathering her close.

“Are you kidding me?” She skimmed a hand along his hip and pressed her lips to his bare chest. “That number was off the charts.”

Just like that, he was ready for her all over again. He didn’t know how he was going to walk away from her before the sun rose, but he’d sure as hell make the most of every minute before then.

3

CASSIE SNAPPED AN elastic band around her damp hair the next morning as she rode the transport bus to the Coast Guard base. Outside, the dark sky had barely lightened to charcoal and humid air moved sluggishly through the vents. Not the most promising of sunrises. The day looked stormy already.

Yesterday, she might have worried about the bad omen of those clouds overhead. Now, with her limbs pleasantly sore from an overdose of pleasure last night, she felt too languid and satisfied to panic. Amazing what a night of mind-blowing sex would do for a woman. After their swim, they’d headed back to Mark’s hotel, where they’d made love until an hour ago. They’d parted ways in the parking lot, kissing right up until the moment when she’d turned her key in her ignition.

There hadn’t been any promises to call. And not until she’d reached her room did she realize she hadn’t even gotten his last name. They’d agreed to keep an eye out for each other next time they were at Mayday’s.

She’d known even then that she would probably never be there again. And she’d bet he suspected as much, too. But last night had been like a time-out from her regular life. A magical moment when her stars had aligned with those of the hottest guy imaginable. And while it was okay to live a little, the way her brother had told her to, she wasn’t going to suddenly stop being Cassie Rowe from Idaho.

Last night, she’d felt free to demand what she wanted and give it in return. No compromising. No holding back. Just pure, unadulterated passion that’d fired her up and kept her from worrying about today’s flight.

A shiver snaked along her spine. Not much anyway. As the transport bus bounced over a pothole, bringing her closer to her crazy decision to fly into a hurricane-ravaged country, the first buzz of nerves returned.

She pulled the top off her coffee and breathed in the fragrant steam. Definitely a two-cup morning.

Tan, beige and black stone half walls appeared after a few minutes, one with a sign that read United States Coast Guard Air Station Clearwater.

Cassie’s mood plummeted as she glimpsed the orange-and-white Jayhawk helicopters in the distance. Guilt bit hard as she remembered how gratefully she’d shaken off her grief last night for those hours of forgetting.

Raeanne, a fellow nurse seated next to her, squeezed her arm.

“I always get such an adrenaline rush at this point.”

Cassie nodded, though the only rushing going on inside her was from memories of her brother.

“I was nervous on my first flight, too.” Raeanne sipped from her own cup of coffee, her bright Red Cross T-shirt reminding Cassie of their mission. “But everything’s done. Our medical supplies are loaded. All we have to do is get on the helicopter.”

“Right.” Cassie pressed on the corners of her closed eyes with her index fingers. The thought of boarding one—as Jeff had—created a vacuum inside of her, sucking till her chest caved in on itself. She’d wanted closure, but now, confronted with this reality, her wounds all threatened to split open, painful and raw as ever.

At last the bus jerked to a halt and they slumped outside just as the clouds started to drizzle. The members of her emergency team hurried across the dappled tarmac to a white hangar that resembled an Idaho barn, pitched roof and all. The main building had wings, one stretching out to the rear from each end. Surrounding it were orange-and-white planes and helicopters. Uniformed men and women loaded and checked equipment while others saluted before slapping each other on the back.

Their booming laughter did nothing to offset Cassie’s rising anxiety. She couldn’t help seeing things through Jeff’s eyes, remembering how much he’d loved the same kind of close-knit community on his old base. The ground rumbled under her feet as a plane took off. Wind gusted over the slate ocean ruffled with rising waves.

Once this had been Jeff’s world. Now it was hers. And as much as that might hurt, where else could she find the understanding that eluded her? The replies she’d gotten to the letters she’d fired off to his commanding officer had lacked the detail she needed.

She worked to school her expression as she followed Raeanne to a group of about ten people—Red Cross volunteers and Coast Guard servicemen and servicewomen—standing by a flight line, a Jayhawk behind them.

When they reached the circle, she stood by one of the military helicopter’s wheels and studied her shoes. The uniforms and aircraft all added to the twist of pain in her chest. For a second, she wished she could run back to that beach where she’d left Mark. But she’d known that living in the moment wasn’t always going to be fun.

This day was going to hurt.

“Not everyone’s here, but since we’re wheels up in ten, we’ll go ahead with introductions. I’m Chief Petty Officer Ian McClaughlin, a rescue swimmer and trainer.”

Cassie breathed in and out. Focused on steadying herself before she lifted her gaze to the military man still speaking. After Ian McClaughlin shook hands with the leader of Cassie’s Red Cross group, a few others in the Jayhawk crew introduced themselves. She strained to focus, but their words swirled around her like the storm outside—background noise for all the other thoughts cramming her head.

Forcing herself to join the conversation, she was preparing to introduce herself when the sound of footsteps penetrated her consciousness.

“Sorry for the holdup, folks.” The familiar male voice was like a warm arm around her shoulders, steadying her.

Confused, she turned to see her dark-haired lover from the night before. Except he wasn’t naked and whispering sweet words in her ear. He wore a Coast Guard uniform.

And while she’d guessed that Mark was military, she sure never expected he might be part of her transport to Saint Thomas. The shock stole her breath.

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Mark Sampson, pilot with Elizabeth City Air Station.” He hadn’t spotted her yet as he tipped the black brim of his white hat.

Elizabeth City? That was Jeff’s former base.

Suddenly, the air was white around her, burning things away from the edges in. When she took an involuntary sideways step, the nurse next to her murmured some kind of generic encouragement. The woman had no clue that Cassie’s brain was short-circuiting, struggling to make sense of Mark being here.

Of Mark being a Jayhawk pilot from Jeff’s last station.

“I’m Petty Officer Second Class Larry Volk, flight mechanic with Elizabeth City,” continued the introductions.

Cassie couldn’t breathe. Fear weighted her shoulders. Dread compounded it.

“Lieutenant Robert Fillmore, copilot with Elizabeth City,” spoke up another man.

The whole crew was from North Carolina. What were the odds that this was a group Jeff had known? Jeff had flown with?

Mark was a common enough name. She hadn’t thought twice about it last night. But in the context of the Jayhawk and the Elizabeth City connection, she made sense of all the clues. Heard Mark’s full name and rank and recalled it listed on the flower arrangement card Jeff’s crew had sent when they couldn’t attend the memorial. Mark Sampson. The pilot who’d flown her brother’s final mission.

The man she’d spent the night with was the same man who had left her brother to drown.

At her strangled exclamation, the pilot’s eyes swerved her way, widening in recognition.

But did he really recognize her? Of course not. He had no idea who she was or how deeply she’d betrayed her brother’s memory. The thought of it knocked her breath out, like ice water.

Her eyes drifted out of the hangar and back toward the bus. For a moment she envisioned racing to it, returning to the hotel and then to Idaho. But she didn’t think she could live with this burden any better there than here. She wasn’t that kind of woman any longer.

Hitching her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, she stared at a distant spot over Mark’s shoulder. Leaving wouldn’t honor her brother. This heartless pilot would not take that from her, too.

No.

She’d go on the mission as planned. Maybe, amid the chaos of this natural disaster, she’d better understand the choices Jeff had made—and the sacrifices. To do that, she’d need to avoid the officer whose presence would be enough to keep her wounds from healing, even if that meant ignoring the strongest attraction she’d ever felt for a man.

* * *

WHY WOULDN’T SHE meet his eye?

As introductions rolled on, Mark stared at Cassie and listened to his crazy heartbeat. It’d taken every ounce of willpower to squelch thoughts of their night together during preflight inspection this morning. He’d worried he might never see her again. But here she stood, even more beautiful in natural light, and looking far too vulnerable to fly into the aftermath of a Category 5 storm.

Damn it. He could not let her mess with his head.

Would not let memories of their incredible night distract him from what he really needed. This mission.

And the absolution that each successful operation would bring him.

Exhaust fuel permeated the waterlogged air when more engines fired to life around them. His gaze swept over her as she huddled in the group, her arms crossed, shoulders folding in. The thin, dirty light revealed the purple shadows under her eyes. Shadows he was responsible for.

Did she regret last night? She’d seemed as satisfied as him when they’d parted. Still, the pain he’d noticed in the bar shimmered around her now. Gone was the passionate woman who’d rocked his world.

The redhead beside her finished her introduction and turned, giving the floor to Cassie.

“I’m Cassie Rowe, RN American Red Cross, Greater Idaho,” she said, voice ragged. She hit him with a stare like a threat.

“First timer!” proclaimed the woman next to Cassie and a smattering of cheers and claps rose.

“Getting her dollar ride,” one of his crew put in.

Rowe. The name backhanded him like a slap from his old man.

Jeff’s last name. And hadn’t he been from the Midwest? Mark’s brain buzzed, his nervous system flashing warnings brighter than any heads-up display on a flight screen. He tried recalling the names he’d written on the card to Jeff’s family.

There was definitely a sister.

Outside, the light shower turned into thick, clammy rain. When the group turned his way, he automatically waved them on board, a buzzing in his ears. Time to leave. He had less than five minutes before takeoff. But he had to know.

He tipped his hat to each of the members when they clambered on board, then pulled Cassie aside. She jerked her elbow free and examined him with flat eyes that sucked in everything and emitted nothing.

“Cassie—”

The rain blew against them, shifting, and an engine whined loud as another plane took off.

She put up a hand and backed away, her eyes overbright. “No. I can’t—” She stared around her, dazed, then tossed her duffel bag into the cabin, bounded by him and hauled herself inside the helicopter.

Damn.

“Yo! Time’s up, Commander,” called Robert through the open cockpit door.

“Got it.”

He climbed into his seat, donned his helmet and strapped himself in. Robert shot Mark a questioning look, which he ignored as he compartmentalized and began the familiar start-up routines. Didn’t Cassie’s last name trip a signal in anyone else’s mind from his crew? His hand fisted in his lap while Robert moved the battery switch to On, flipped on the APU and checked through the hydraulic systems. Mark fired up the engines and the rotors whirred to life, the blades slicing through the fog rolling in off the bay.

After cross-checking his engine and system instruments against his start checklist, he tuned up the ground frequency and waited for a break in the chatter to request taxi clearance.

Something skimmed across Mark’s mind. Cassie’s eyes. Same color as Jeff’s. Then there was his old crewmate’s leave request for a sister graduating nursing school.

Cold sweat popped on his brow.

Shit.

“She’s Jeff’s sister,” he murmured under his breath, his voice ragged.

His shoulders tightened. Not the right time to dwell on this. But holy hell. Given her reaction, she’d realized who he was, too.

Her parents blamed him for Jeff’s death. No doubt Cassie did, as well.

And how could he fault her? He hadn’t stopped blaming himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the riot of thought and focused, drawing on his training. He was supposed to be putting this shit behind him. He’d sworn up and down to the military docs that he could handle flying.

That meant he would damn well get this bird in the air and put the mission first.

When the ground control conversation ended, he slowed his breathing. “St. Pete ground, Coast Guard 6039, IFR Clearance on request.”

The controller’s voice sounded through his headset. “Roger, Coast Guard 6039. Stand by.”

While Mark waited for final verification of his international flight plan, he continued down his checklist, the clipboard balanced on his knees.

After a minute, his headphones crackled. “Coast Guard 6039, St. Pete ground. Cleared to the Nassau MYNN Airport as filed. On departure fly heading three-five-zero, climb and maintain sixteen hundred feet, expect three thousand ten minutes after departure. Departure frequency 121.5. Squawk 0105.”

Mark nodded to Rob, who jotted down the information as Mark repeated it verbatim to the controller.

“Read back correct. Advise when ready for taxi,” the controller replied then tuned out.

After ticking off the last item on his checklist, Mark returned to the top and verified it all again. This liftoff would be textbook; Cassie wouldn’t rattle him.

Rob pointed at the timer, moved his finger in a clockwise motion and raised an eyebrow. Right. Too much delay. Mark slipped the board by the side of his seat and called on the designated frequency.

“St. Pete ground, Coast Guard 6039 at the Coast Guard ramp with information Alpha, IFR to Nassau, ready to taxi.”

Rain streaked down the helicopter’s windshield and the air inside the narrow cockpit was humid. Despite his turning up the ventilation, sweat pooled at the base of his neck and trickled down his back.

“Roger, Coast Guard 6039. Taxi through the back door to Runway 36L, hold short at Alpha.”

Mark pulled up the collective and pushed forward on the cyclic. When they reached five miles per hour, he pressed on the brake and the helicopter jerked to a quick, satisfying halt.

He accelerated again, hoping he hadn’t scared anyone with the brake check. Hadn’t flustered Cassie. “Everyone all set in back?” he asked into his mic through the ICS. An image of Cassie buckled into one of the seats twisted his gut. Jeff had sat back there once, too, secure and certain of his safety, a brother of the fin—as the air and sea rescuers called themselves—family, yet Mark had let him down.

Technically, a weakened cable and low fuel had been blamed for the accident, but Mark knew better. Most nights when he closed his eyes the fatal incident played out in vivid detail, making sleep impossible. It was why he’d been at the bar last night. Why he’d told Cassie he wouldn’t make for good company.

A year ago he’d been at the peak of his career. An aircraft commander, instructor pilot, flight examiner, and decorated search and rescue pilot with a spotless record. A man who embodied his profession’s motto: “So others may live.” After he’d been forced to make a decision that had cost a crew member’s life, however, his faith in himself had been shattered.

For most of his life, he’d strived to differentiate himself from his incarcerated father. To prove that he could be one of the good guys. He’d joined the Coast Guard to become that hero, to save others. Some hero he’d turned out to be. Losing a member of his crew had wrecked him.

He’d come back to justify the military’s faith in him. To prove himself again.

“Roger, Commander.” Larry’s response sounded in his ear after some static, the loud whirring snuffing out every other sound.

The Jayhawk’s wheels rolled smoothly as he taxied to the runway, halted on the hold short line and tuned into the designated channel.

“St. Pete tower, Coast Guard 6039, hold short Alpha.”

“Coast Guard 6039, position and hold. Waiting for traffic to clear.”

Mark watched a Herc roll ahead of him, the long-range surveillance plane’s four propellers whirling. The HC-130H was the oldest model in the fleet, but rescue ready and part of the massive response Clearwater mounted for the storm’s aftermath now that it was safe to approach. Would it perform as expected? Would he?

“Position and hold Runway 36L,” Mark barked into the mic. “Coast Guard copter 6039. Request for hover check.”

“Roger, 6039. Cleared for hover check. Advise when ready for takeoff.”

They rose ten feet and Mark scrutinized the instruments: 88 percent torque, 100 percent Nr, 2–3 degrees nose up altitude, 4–5 degrees left wing down and all other systems in the green. So far so good. Once stabilized, he checked for proper flight control response and verified his power setting. Nothing was wrong, yet he felt off.

Rob opened a bag of Jolly Ranchers and held it out. “Want some?”

“Nah.” Mark lowered the helicopter. His eyes fixed on the ground, mind focused on a precise landing position. Not on Cassie. Not Jeff. He brushed at the moisture beading his forehead.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he said, his voice firm.

And he was. Had to be. He shook some of the pieces into his hand after all and tossed back a couple.

He’d worried this first large-scale disaster response since Jeff’s loss would shake loose old insecurities. Challenge his hard-won equilibrium. But he’d arrived on the flight line clearheaded for the first time in months. What an irony that Cassie Rowe had been responsible for that. She’d leveled him out better than any of the mandatory visits with a base shrink—had made him feel normal again. Until she’d sent him straight back to hell.

When the Herc disappeared from view, Mark cleared his throat. “Coast Guard 6039, ready for takeoff.”

He gave Rob a thumbs-up. Simultaneously, he pulled the collective to 98 percent torque, adjusted the tail rotor pedals to maintain heading and maneuvered the cyclic to stay centerline. As they rose slowly, he transitioned to forward flight.

“6039 airborne.” As they gained altitude, Mark turned to heading three hundred fifty and continued with his departure procedures, the helicopter shuddering slightly before smoothing out. The Sikorsky shuffle.

A normal takeoff, just like always. Nothing wrong. And nothing would go wrong on this mission, he vowed, then loosened his white-knuckle grip on the stick. The gray sprawl of ocean appeared below as Mark’s gaze drifted to the MFD screen. Current weather images of the hurricane continuously updated in the newly installed test weather radar. Although the hurricane had jogged east, a few bands still streaked across southern Florida.

He verified the correct course set for the Nassau, where they’d refuel before going on to the mission’s staging area in the Virgin Islands, and slumped back in his seat, his joints stiff. He had to get over this jittery sense that something wasn’t right.

Cassie’s accusing expression swam into view. She had every right to hate him. It’d been a long time before he’d been able to face himself in the mirror.

So why had she joined such a treacherous mission? This was her first disaster operation. At least Jeff had been trained for what he faced. Cassie had little preparation for this scale of an emergency and his protective instincts rose. He’d failed her brother and wouldn’t let another Rowe family member come to harm on his watch. He owed Jeff that much and more.

But aside from that obligation, he would put Cassie Rowe out of his head. He’d fought too hard to get back in the cockpit after the weeks he’d been grounded following Jeff’s death. No way would he let a woman get to him, undermine all he’d devoted his life to achieve.

Fat splats of rain peppered the glass and he glanced down at his radar. The last vestiges of the hurricane brewed their mischief up ahead. The final salvo in a storm that had inflicted devastating damage...yet a certain blonde on board his aircraft felt like the greater threat.

He would not be with her again, even if she’d had any inclination to come near him a second time. Getting close to Cassie would jeopardize the mission. His career. Possibly his sanity.

The problem with playing with this particular fire, however, was already knowing how sweet the burn would be.

4

“GOOD WORK, NURSE ROWE.” The Red Cross’s chief nurse, Marjorie Little, nodded briskly as she strode down the long row of cots lining the temporary aid station’s sides.

They’d erected the house-size tent this morning since the inflatable field hospital units wouldn’t be operational for a couple of days. Minimum.

“Thanks.” Cassie peeled her damp collar from her neck and hoped for sooner than later. She secured an ACE wrap around her latest patient’s swollen ankle and turned, striving not to sway on her feet. It’d been a long ten-hour shift, but damned if she’d let it show. In fact, strange as it sounded, she’d enjoyed the frenetic pace. It was so different than the usual crawl of taking blood pressure and giving flu vaccinations at her father’s general practice. Best of all, she’d been too busy to think of a certain pilot...

Moans and cries, accompanied by murmuring medical volunteers and beeping, generator-fueled machines, comprised the day’s sound track, as relentless as the pelting rain against their canvas roof. The combined scents of sweat and antiseptic hung in the humid air. It coated her mouth, lined her nasal passages. She could smell it on her uniform. Her hair even...

“It’s all gone,” sobbed her patient, Melinda, an island tour guide. She clutched a small framed photo of her family—the only thing she’d managed to grab before her house collapsed, she’d told Cassie earlier.

“I’m so sorry.” She clamped down her own fatigue and smoothed a hand over her charge’s forehead. Good. Cooler. The ibuprofen had kicked in.

Despite her relief, a restless feeling swept through her. For the hundredth time today, she wished she could do more to help. Her patient would regain her health, but what about the rest of her life?

The flattened structures she’d glimpsed before landing on a less damaged coastal section being used for the Coast Guard’s staging area flashed through her mind. Eroded beaches, boats and debris appeared to be shoved ashore by an invisible, monstrous hand. The same one that’d punched out windows and torn the roofs off the few standing buildings. Lives, ripped apart at the seams, crushed and pulverized by powers beyond their control.

Although she had never experienced anything like that, in her own way, she could relate.

Her weary gaze drifted over the large bandage that hid a stitched gash on the woman’s temple.

She stiffened.

Right.

Tetanus shot.

Her patient risked lockjaw.

Adrenaline zipped through Cassie. A buzz. Urgent and fierce.

She moved aside as Raeanne slid by to attend to a writhing man on the cot beside Melinda’s and flagged down a physician.

“Doctor.” Cassie held out her patient’s paperwork. “I need a signature for a tetanus shot order.”

The stooped man scanned the patient’s file, peeked at her bandage and scrawled something fairly illegible on the chart before hurrying on.

“Do you have any allergies?” she asked her charge while consulting the chart. It never hurt to double-check. Melinda shook her head.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Taufik.” Raeanne squeezed Cassie’s arm as she passed by again, her faint smile appearing and disappearing as fast as it came.

“Any chance you might be pregnant?” Cassie continued.

“No.”

She snapped the chart closed and gave Melinda a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back with your shot.”

A moment later, she slipped behind the curtained partition that held their medication and other supplies.

“How’s it going?” asked Raeanne, tapping a couple of oxys into a paper cup.

“Good.” She scanned the syringes, looking for the right size. She selected the correct needle and turned slowly, stabbing pain shooting down her spine.

“Good?” Raeanne dropped the bottle in the med cabinet, locked it and blew a dangling red curl out of her face. Her narrowed green eyes skimmed over Cassie. “That almost sounded like you meant it. You were so quiet on the flight, I thought you were having second thoughts.”

And she had been, she mused, grabbing a vial of Dtap. “I’m glad I came.” Which was mostly true, if not for Mark.

Still, she couldn’t shake the memory of how his arms had made her feel safe, his kisses transporting her away from all the fear of the upcoming mission. Little had she known he was a devil in disguise.

And now she risked seeing him again when she retrieved the bag she’d left on his helicopter. If only she’d taken a moment to remember her things rather than dashing away the second they landed, desperate to avoid Mark.

At her frustrated breath, Raeanne raised her eyebrows. “Now you definitely don’t sound sincere. Spill it, girl. You’re allowed to complain on your first day. After that, I’ll only pretend to listen.”

Cassie’s mood lifted and she smiled, or tried to. Her lips felt too tired to move. “I’m no whiner.”

The curtains parted and a couple of nurses hustled inside. “I need coffee. Stat,” rasped one of them, a woman with thick dark hair done up in a topknot. She yanked off her stained uniform top and grabbed another from the shelf.

“Me, too.” Her companion popped in a piece of gum before grabbing an armload of fresh linens. “When is our relief coming on?”

“Two hours,” Raeanne put in. “A minute over that, we strike.”

She stared at the chortling group before laughing, too, marveling at the nurses’ capacity for humor in the face of grueling work. It was a coping mechanism for sure, and a way to bond. Never before had she felt such camaraderie. She liked it.

Was this what had appealed to Jeff? Tempted him to work such a risky job? She’d always thought he was crazy. Had wished he’d stop giving their anxiety-prone mother reasons to fret. But now she saw it. A glimmer, maybe, of what had motivated him to leave their hometown.

Why he’d urged her to do the same.

“So, who knows something about our hot pilot?” one of the nurses asked. The strong smell of antiseptic soap stung Cassie’s nose as the bubbly brunette lathered suds across her palms and beneath her fingernails.

She pulled in 0.5 ml of Dtap and capped her needle with shaking hands.

“He lost one of his crew members,” Raeanne supplied. Large bubbles glugged from the water dispenser as she pulled its blue lever. “Really broke him up. He was grounded, too. Had to get clearance to fly again. My cousin, Rob, the copilot, said this is the first disaster relief mission LCDR Sampson’s flown since then. They’re all a little worried for him.”

The other RN ripped a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and turned. She arched a brow. “I’ll comfort him.”

“Why are four of my nurses not treating patients?” snapped the chief nurse, breaking up the tableau by thrusting through the curtain, her mouth pressed in a firm line.

“Sorry, Nurse Little,” gasped the brunette.

“Just getting medication.” Raeanne shook one of her cups, making the pills rattle.

“And gossiping,” asserted Nurse Little. “One, we don’t spread rumors.” She ticked her fingers. “Two, we don’t waste precious time doing so when there are patients to treat. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” whispered the cowed young women as they scurried back into the main part of the tent.

Cassie, however, didn’t trust her trembling legs to move so she held on to the plastic shelving, hoping the spinning world would stop soon.

Mark had been grounded?

This was his first disaster mission since Jeff’s disappearance?

She pictured his dark expression last night when they’d met. Recalled his assurance that he wasn’t the best company. Had his concern for this trip been the reason?

Yet it didn’t match the image she’d formed of the pilot who’d abandoned Jeff. The overconfident, callous man who cared only about following procedures, not saving lives.

The rumors had to be wrong.

“Cassie, you look pale.”

She shook her head, so many thoughts buzzing in her brain she couldn’t speak one out loud.

“Yes, you are. And tired.” A firm hand pressed against her brow and Nurse Little’s eyes bored into hers. “This is your first mission, correct?”

She nodded. Beyond the curtains someone shrieked, a long, agonizing sound that trailed off ominously.

“And you’ve been working...”

“Since we arrived, ma’am,” she murmured, dredging her voice from its hiding spot, somewhere down deep in her throat. She wasn’t about to mention that she hadn’t slept the night before, too busy tangling limbs with the helicopter pilot responsible for her brother’s death.

“Right.” Nurse Little took the tetanus needle from Cassie’s hand. “I’m relieving you tonight. Give me a report on your patients, then shower and bed. I’ll need you back at 0600 hours. That’s an order.”

“But Melinda...” protested Cassie. And it was her turn for a new admit. The screaming patient...that had to be hers. She was needed. Couldn’t quit now.

“I’ll give her the shot. Tetanus?”

“Yes. But really, I can...”

Nurse Little arched an eyebrow. “I believe I’m perfectly capable of giving a shot. And a directive. Is there some other issue I’m unaware of?”

Cassie hung her head. “I left my duffel on the helicopter. I don’t have anything to change into.”

Nurse Little pointed at a bag in the corner. “You can borrow a clean T-shirt and shorts from me. Anything else?”

Cassie backed up. “No, ma’am.”

Her supervisor’s face softened. “Get some rest, dear. Lord knows we’ll need a fresh pair of hands in the morning.”

“Thank you.” After reporting out to her superior, she grabbed the clothes and headed through the back entrance to the hastily built women’s showers—basically a couple of stalls with sheets for curtains and a self-pumping water unit.

Despite the crude setup, she sighed when she stripped off her limp uniform and lathered her hair, washing the grime away, wishing the devastating losses she’d witnessed today were as easy to erase. None of the wounds she’d treated had come close to soothing the hurts of these people who’d been separated from homes and loved ones.

She pictured the desperate locals who’d searched the patient board, looking for their family members, leaving hollow eyed and empty-handed. How she ached for them. She knew what loss felt like. The crushing pressure that seemed to bury your heart alive, made taking a full breath impossible, your mind spinning in hopeless circles, trying and failing to understand that a part of you was gone forever. That your life would never be the same, would never be whole.

Water pulsed against her hair as she scraped her nails over her scalp, massaging in the shampoo. Pushing back the rising darkness, Cassie drew on a memory of the most rewarding part of the day—reuniting a girl with a stuffed dog that had been a dumb-luck find. Cassie had spotted it during her lunch break when she’d helped pull one of the stretchers off an emergency vehicle.

How elated she’d felt to see the girl’s tears dry and a small smile emerge. The ultimate rewards weren’t always big successes, but sometimes the quiet, small victories.

She turned beneath the water and held out the length of her hair. Shampoo streamed to the drain and swirled, rising in bubbles before disappearing. Washcloth in hand, she rubbed a bar of brown soap then slid the cleanser over her body, the stringent smell stinging her nose. Despite the devastation caused by the storm, or perhaps because of it, Cassie had most often witnessed love today. Dedicated spouses, partners and family members, waiting for hours outside the station, patiently holding vigil until their loved one was out of danger.

Love...

She’d never been in love before. Commuting to her local college, then moving into the apartment above her parents’ garage, meant she hadn’t gotten out much. Dated. Definitely no mind-blowing one-night stands like last night.

Heat flared at the juncture of her thighs as she skimmed the wash cloth there, her flesh deliciously sore after the long, passionate night.

If Mark was anyone else, she would have said it was the greatest sex of her life. When was the last time she’d felt so giddy and uninhibited? So powerful?

Only it’d been a lie. A cruel cosmic joke that made her want to scream, not laugh. Mark was her enemy.

Yet, based on Raeanne’s story, she wondered.

Did Jeff haunt Mark, too?

An alarm sounded as she finished rinsing. Warned that such a signal heralded increased wind and dangerous conditions, she yanked the T-shirt over her slick body, pulled on the shorts and dashed outside.

Straight into a wall of muscle.

“Oh. Excuse me,” she muttered, her apology withering on her lips as she glanced up. Mark.

Her pulse quickened under his intent stare, shock rooting her feet to the ground. The gaining wind whipped her wet hair around her face.

His gaze traveled down her body, from the collar of her wet shirt to the hem of Nurse Little’s shorts, which, thanks to Cassie’s longer frame, barely covered her ass. His predatory eyes narrowed.

Before she could whirl away, she caught sight of her duffel, dangling from his hand.

“That’s mine.”

He cleared his throat. “I was dropping it at the aid station. Didn’t think you’d still be working.”

Oh. So he’d hoped to avoid her? Anger sizzled through her, despite her own strategy to evade him.

Well. Too bad, flyboy.

“And why’s that?” she demanded, grabbing the bag from him. At the brush of his fingers against hers, hungry need growled low in her gut and she shoved it down. Focused on her anger. Outrage. “You didn’t think I’d last?”

Before he could answer, something whizzed by her ear and he grabbed her, lightning fast, and pulled them to the ground. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as he crouched over her protectively, his smell familiar and sexy as hell.

She shoved him away. “I don’t need your help,” she muttered then stopped. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of a piece of sheet metal buried in the shower wall where she’d stood seconds ago.

The words thank you could never come out of her mouth when it came to Mark...yet he’d just saved her. Conflicting emotions churned in her stomach like the lousy coffee she’d drunk all day—gratitude, fury and desire.

God help her.

“I’m getting you back to your quarters,” he said in a tone she’d bet was usually obeyed. He shrugged out of his uniform jacket, draped it around her shoulders and hustled her toward the nearby women’s quarters.

* * *

OF ALL THE people to run into after his long day. Cassie Rowe.

The last person he wanted to see.

Mark had struggled to compartmentalize as he’d worked to rescue survivors. Flying through bands of the storm, he’d sweated ten gallons trying to wrestle the Jayhawk through the remnants of the hurricane weather, pulling people out of tossing waves. That used to all be in a day’s work. Now? He battled demons harder than the buffeting winds, Jeff’s specter riding shotgun beside him, a dark copilot and a reminder of the biggest screwup of Mark’s career.

He needed some R & R to decompress. Get his shit together. He was flight ready, damn it. Could more than handle this disaster response.

As for Cassie?

He had to get his feelings for her under control, too. His plan to leave her bag with the Red Cross’s chief nurse would have helped. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then, holy hell.

When she’d dashed out of the showers, a flimsy T-shirt molded to her voluptuous breasts, short shorts revealing the sweet curve of her ass, all the blood in his brain had gone south. In an instant, he’d forgotten all the reasons he was staying away from her, his hands itching to touch her smooth skin long before his sense kicked in.

He took a deep breath and tried to banish the image of a nearly naked Cassie from his mind. The oversize jacket that hung to her knees should have helped...but he kept picturing her gorgeous body on the beach last night. The feel of her soft flesh, yielding to him. Demanding, too.

He quickened his pace.

“Hey!” she protested, flipping back her damp hair. All around them, the air moved like a wild thing, dark and dangerous, reminding him of everything he’d battled at the controls today over the Atlantic. How close he’d come to losing the bubble.

He needed her out of here. She drew his attention like a fireworks display. One about to detonate in his face.

“Slow down or let go,” she warned him, edging out of his grip.

Which was just as well. He had no business putting his hands on her.

“You didn’t have a problem keeping up last night.” Where had that come from? He sounded like a horny teenager. Or an arrogant asshole.

She huffed beside him as a downed palm tree frond caught against the coat and she yanked a piece of stray foliage loose, her shape barely discernable now in the moonless night. “Really?”

He slowed his gait, guiding them carefully over the branches. “That’s my recollection.”

“I’d rather forget. I wish it’d never happened.”

Her bitter tone left little doubt that she meant every word.

So why wasn’t he glad about that?

“If I’d known...” he began.

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Then what? You would have avoided me. Stayed away like you did at Jeff’s memorial?”

“An emergency came up.”

“You could have visited his stone anytime.”

Guilt ripped through him. Yes. He’d thought of that. Was planning to go, actually, after this mission. After he’d figured out what the hell to say to Jeff’s family. But now Cassie was here, her presence more intimate than he could ever have prepared for, catching him flat-footed.

He breathed in the bracing, briny air. “Look, I can’t take back what happened last night.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t take back any of it. So what’s the point? I’ve got my bag so you can go now. I’ll find my way alone.” She wrapped the coat tighter around herself. Was she still oblivious to the flying debris, or just that stubborn?

“Where’s your room?” he challenged as he ducked beneath a tree, and pulled her with him when the air suddenly swooshed by carrying stinging pebbles.

Her eyes darted around him. “I’m number ten.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And where is that?”

She flung an arm east. “There?” She pivoted and peered into the night. “Or did Raeanne say to the left of the showers...?”

Overhead, a Jayhawk whirred, going out to sea. Out to face the nightmare winds that he’d just waged war with for hours.

He nodded firmly. Felt his back teeth clench. “Right. Let’s go.” The USCG and Red Cross had commandeered a resort that had suffered limited damage for their operations. He’d passed the side they’d designated as women’s quarters on his way here—a string of bungalows deemed safe by the engineering crew.

“Just tell me where...”

Despite the gloom, her blond hair gleamed, her fresh-scrubbed face making her look young. Vulnerable. Why the hell had she come here? Anger seared his insides. She should be home safe with her family. Not in a place still full of danger. Where she could get hurt, like Jeff. Where she added to the crap factor of his first mission back.

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