As The Adair Legacy continues, a beautiful P.I. and a damaged warrior race to prevent an assassination

He can’t remember what they did to him while he’d been held captive. But the blackouts and memory loss Sam Winston suffers since returning home scare the decorated soldier more than combat. Most of all, he fears placing those he cares about in danger…especially Olivia Owens.

Despite the risks, the gorgeous investigator is determined to help Sam remember the terrible secrets locked inside his head. Olivia is convinced he’s the key to a terrifying conspiracy. Working closely together, Olivia hopes that Sam makes progress with uncovering the past, and that the walls around his long-guarded heart fall down….

She pressed harder into him and he groaned softly. “It will feel better in a minute,” she promised.

“No pain, no gain?”

“Something like that.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “That feels great,” he said. “You might not do this for a living, but you’re good at it.”

She shifted and he tensed. “Don’t move,” she said as she slipped out from behind him, leaving him to recline against the cushions. “Let me work it from the front.”

She dug in again and her hands trembled. She braced her hand beside his head, intending to use her elbow to get at the muscle in his joint, but she lost her focus. Instead of continuing with the massage, she leaned all the way down, bracing her hand on the other side of his head. Fleetingly, she thought this was such a bad idea for so many reasons. But the impulse came over her and she couldn’t help herself. He seemed so alone, so isolated; she wanted to comfort him in a more intimate way. She brushed her lips across his.

Dear Reader,

Special Ops Rendezvous brings together U.S. army ranger Sam Winston and P.I. Olivia Owens and is the third book in The Adair Legacy continuity. Olivia’s psychologist brother had asked her to look out for Sam, one of his patients. He was worried Sam was in trouble. Then her brother is murdered and Olivia tries to get close to Sam to not only protect him, but get to the bottom of her brother’s death. Thrown together, a chemistry that is volatile, Olivia and Sam fight their attraction as hard as they fight each other. Sam likes to give orders, but finds that tough-as-nails Olivia has a mind of her own. She discovers Sam is a loner and a sexy, alpha male. Her brother was right. Sam is being followed and is mixed up in a deadly conspiracy, and it seems that Sam is the linchpin. This wounded hero, who’s experiencing blackouts and memory loss and is tortured by nightmares, has the answers locked up in his mind. Desperately they search for answers in a deadly game that could cost Sam and Olivia everything.

I was thrilled to be asked to write this compelling and sexy U.S. army ranger for the continuity. Don’t miss the heart-pounding conclusion to The Adair Legacy, Secret Service Rescue by Elle James!

Best,

Karen

Special Ops Rendezvous

Karen Anders

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ANDERS

is a three-time National Readers’ Choice Award finalist and RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award finalist and has won a prestigious Holt Medallion. Two of her novels made the Waldenbooks bestseller list in 2003. Published since 1997, she currently writes romantic suspense for Mills & Boon. To contact the author, please write to her in care of Mills & Boon Books, 233 Broadway Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, or visit www.karenanders.com.

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Contents

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

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter 1

“Dr. Owens?” Sergeant Sam Winston called out into the empty outer office of Dr. John Owens, a well-respected Raleigh, North Carolina, psychologist in private practice. To keep Sam’s visits as private as possible, Dr. Owens had agreed to meet Sam before his receptionist arrived at 9:00 a.m. Sam looked at his watch. Normally Dr. Owens was waiting for him the minute he walked into his office at seven o’clock sharp.

As a Ranger in the Seventh Ranger Regiment of the United States Army Special Forces, Sam was used to rising early and getting very little sleep. He’d already been up for two hours doing some PT stress relief. Even six months later, his shoulders and hip still provided a challenge to getting back into fighting shape after he’d been captured and tortured for three months.

Also, the recent assassination attempt on his mother’s life and the fact the would-be assassin was one of his buddies from his unit, captured and tortured at the same time as Sam, not only pushed him to seek out a therapist, but had shaken his very foundation. How could Mike have gone from a decorated Ranger to an assassin? That image didn’t fit with the man Sam had known. Dedicated and tough-as-nails Mike. A hard, hollow ball of pain and regret mixed with a healthy dose of anger constricted his chest.

That incident made Sam question everything but gave him no answers. He was blacking out, losing time and having horrific nightmares that he couldn’t understand or even sometimes remember. He would just wake up standing in his room screaming at the top of his lungs.

If Mike could somehow be coerced to kill his mother, Sam had to wonder how he had been compromised. Mike was one of the toughest men Sam had known.

Thank God his mother was tough, too. She was a formidable woman, formerly a very popular vice president of the United States and, later, an ambassador to France. The thought of losing her unhinged him. He would have been devastated, and although his mother was a cagey politician, she was still his mother. The fact that she was mulling over running for president wasn’t something Sam exactly hoped for. Along with the prestige and honor, there were a lot of complications and sacrifice. He would be proud of her, but shining the limelight on him and his work with the U.S. Army wasn’t exactly something he wanted.

Mike’s betrayal and implications that Sam himself might be compromised prompted him to leave his family estate and rent a modest house in north Raleigh. In the back of his mind, he didn’t want to be in too close proximity to his family. He didn’t want to think too hard about his motivation. A terrible sense of looming disaster hung over him.

He stopped dead only steps from the door to Dr. Owens’s office. An icy feeling of dread came over him when he saw the half-open door.

“Dr. Owens?” he called again, just in case he hadn’t heard him the first time, but deep down, Sam knew he wouldn’t get an answer. After being in Special Forces for a decade, Sam had a sixth sense about violence. He could almost smell it in the air.

He pushed the door open, braced for the worst. Dr. Owens’s office was trashed. Papers and files were strewn everywhere and amid the chaos was Dr. Owens lying near a smashed computer monitor, his eyes open and a pool of blood beneath his head.

Sam barely noticed the unmistakable stench of death permeating the room. He had experienced death so many times in the past, often at his own hands and delivered in close proximity, it was now second nature to him.

Even as these thoughts were rushing through his head, he hurried over to Dr. Owens, knowing that he was dead, knowing there was nothing he could do.

His blood ran cold as he knelt down and felt for a pulse. There was a neat round hole in Dr. Owens’s forehead. A head shot meant it was done by a professional.

Which meant what?

Tattered images came to him and his breathing doubled. He rose, backing up, gasping, starting to sweat. The dream he’d had last night! He’d killed somebody. His back hit the wall and he looked down at his hands, trying to sort out what was real and what was fabricated by his tortured and damaged mind. When would this shit be over! When would he be himself again!

One thing was for sure. Dr. Owens couldn’t help him anymore.

He looked down at his hands again as if he could find the answers. But there never were any answers.

He could easily have pulled off a head shot. But why would he have killed Dr. Owens? He reeled at the thought that his own mind somehow wasn’t his own. But commit unspeakable acts against a civilian who was trying to help him? That just didn’t make sense, and yet the dream burned in his memory. Had he killed someone or was he supposed to kill someone? The jumble was just too chaotic to make sense out of.

He could even be remembering a long-forgotten mission for all he knew. For a man with a very regimented life, who had been in the military since he was twenty-three and understood control, having these kinds of doubts only seemed to make him angry. Which didn’t help at all.

In Special Forces, there was no margin for error and second-guessing.

But the torture... A fist of anxiety tightened in the pit of his stomach. Those bastards had tried to break him, the relentless beatings, the withdrawal of food and water, the cold, the discomfort and the pain. He endured it all for three long, torturous months.

He wasn’t normally a paranoid kind of guy, but that didn’t mean Dr. Owens’s death had anything to do with Sam. But after Mike’s inconceivable behavior, Sam couldn’t discount that somehow the government might be involved. He’d admitted as much to his brothers. Hence the need for secrecy. Sam hadn’t even told his superiors he was seeing a psychologist. Presumably, no one besides his brothers knew anything about it. So most likely Dr. Owens’s death didn’t have a damn thing to do with him.

Or it had everything to do with him.

He pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed his brother, a forensic specialist with the Raleigh Police Department.

“Thad Winston.”

“Thad, I want to report a murder.”

* * *

Sam had to admit the cop they sent, Detective Evans, was pretty sharp, asked really good questions, but again, Sam didn’t really have any answers. He hadn’t seen anything, didn’t know anything. When the cop heard his last name, he recognized it, glancing over at Thad, who was present but had recused himself from working the crime scene because of Sam’s involvement.

The Adair/Winston family money had come from tobacco and shipping. All his life, growing up in Raleigh, he’d had respect just by virtue of his wealthy political family. It was one of the main reasons he wanted to get out, do something where he could really earn respect. He wasn’t cut out to sit behind a desk like his older brother, Trey, the CEO of Adair Industries, who, with his easygoing attitude and a politician’s smooth way, charmed just about everyone, nor like his younger brother, Thad, who had wanted nothing to do with the all the privileged trappings of the Adair legacy.

“Sam, you’re free to go. If Detective Evans has any more questions, he’ll let you know,” Thad said.

“I’d like to know when you catch whoever did this to Dr. Owens. He really helped me a lot.”

“Of course, I’ll keep you posted. I’m really sorry about this. I know you liked him and he was really helping you. Are you sure you don’t want to move back home or bunk with me?”

Sam gave his brother an affectionate punch in the shoulder. “Stop being a mother hen. I’m a Ranger. I can take care of myself.”

“No one said you couldn’t, Sam, but with this shit going down with Mom, I’m just on edge. And when I think about Mike it makes me crazy all over again.”

“I don’t blame you for killing Mike, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“No. I wish I could have avoided it, but he gave me no choice. He was going to kill Lucy...and I had...”

Sam touched his brother’s shoulder. “You did the right thing, Thad. No matter how much it hurts.” Sam was pretty sure this was going to hurt for quite some time.

Thad nodded. “I have a feeling this isn’t over.” He looked at Dr. Owens’s body. “Mom’s assassination attempt was thwarted, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try again.”

“At this point, I don’t trust anyone.”

“Not even the Secret Service? They’re guarding her night and day.”

“I told you and Trey. I feel the government is involved somehow, and the Secret Service is a government agency. I worry about her, too. But I like Agent Dan Henderson. Not only did he save her life, but he’s intelligent and dedicated. I have a good feeling about him.”

Thad nodded. “Yeah, I like him, too. He took a bullet for Mom. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, a guy involved in shady stuff doesn’t do his duty and stop a bullet.”

“I’ve got to get going. But if you need anything, call me, brother.”

Sam nodded and walked out to the curb with Thad. As he drove away, he was still unsettled about Dr. Owens’s death and its possible connection to him, his family and his mother’s assassination attempt.

Sam looked at his watch. He still had time to make it to his therapeutic massage appointment. Another suggestion Dr. Owens had given him. First, to help with his rehabilitation and second, to reduce stress.

He arrived with about ten minutes to spare and checked in at the front desk. The receptionist smiled flirtatiously at him, but he didn’t respond. She was interested, but his life was such a complete mess right now. He had no intention of trying to carry on any type of relationship. He wasn’t fit for a relationship, even a temporary one, or for duty. Right now he was in limbo until he figured it all out. As soon as he got his head on straight from the damage done by the insurgents, he was shipping out again.

Although it was something he’d thought about often. Maybe he should retire and find something else to do with his time. Serving his country had been a privilege and an honor, but after Mike’s unpredictable and violent behavior, Sam wasn’t sure that returning to active duty was a good idea.

He walked to the locker room, stripped down and stored all his clothes in the locker. Shrugging into the robe, he dropped his wallet into the pocket and tightened the belt. He made his way to the room and went inside. Slipping off the robe, he slid under the sheet facedown.

He’d only lain there for a moment when the therapist entered. “Hello, Helga,” he said. “I’m going to need some work on my shoulder today. It’s been giving me some problems.”

“I’m not Helga, but I’ll be happy to take care of that for you.” Her voice was beautiful, soft and melodious. Perfect for a massage therapist.

He turned his head. The delicious sight of the woman in front of him almost made him want to lick his lips. She had sun-kissed skin, wavy caramel shoulder-length hair, the front pinned up and away from her striking face with high, slashing cheekbones, and a plump bow of a mouth. She was lovely, delicate, feminine, her skin as flawless as fresh cream. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, nothing to enhance or draw the eye. But she drew attention, his very interested attention.

He left her eyes for last because that’s where all the information about a human being was. Right now he was savoring the anticipation of the moment their eyes met.

Hers were dark brown, fringed with thick lashes. They were direct, assessing and...communicated her attraction. He knew most women liked muscles, and he was ripped. As soon as he got out of Walter Reed in D.C. and was cleared, he’d resumed his fitness routine. Being honed both in body and mind was what made a Special Forces commando a lethal son of a bitch. Besides the effects of his injuries, his body was back to normal now, but not yet his mind. He was still working on that.... Regret washed through him as he thought about Dr. Owens’s death.

So he’d seen that shell-shocked look before. It wasn’t the first time the sight of him half-naked, or completely naked, had put that expression on a woman’s face. It happened all the time.

He’d had zero interest in the pretty receptionist, but this woman was a different matter. She certainly wasn’t the middle-aged, somewhat dour Helga with the strong hands that he was used to. No, this woman was hard to look away from and hard to dismiss.

But unfortunately he had the same problem that he’d had with the receptionist. Getting involved with anyone at this point in his life would be a mistake.

But he suddenly wanted to make a lot of mistakes.

“Helga’s out sick. My name’s Olivia Marshall.”

Trying not to show any reaction to the change in his therapist or the affect she had on him, he smiled and nodded. She was dressed in a white cotton T-shirt with the logo of the spa just above her full breasts and a pair of black, stretchy pants that were modest but did nothing to hide her curves.

“Why don’t you tell me what you need taken care of, Captain Winston?”

When she pulled the sheet from his back, she gasped, but she tried to stifle it.

He turned to look at her again. “I should have warned you about that.”

Her gaze was riveted to his back. She was affected by the sight of what the insurgents had done to him, but there was more than just shock in her eyes. Was there...heat, too? “I should have been more professional. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. My back is a mess. I was tortured for three months before I was rescued. As you can see, they weren’t easy on me. My shoulders give me the most problem. They hung me from the ceiling every day.”

Sam met those dark brown eyes and watched her struggle with her compassion and her shock. And something loosened up in him at her look, something that brought with it intense heat. Suddenly he wanted to get close to this woman on more than just a physical level.

“Okay, your shoulders. Anything else?”

“My left hip and quad. I got shot there.”

She nodded. This woman should have come with a warning label, Sam thought. She was much too potent, and he was, lethal son of a bitch or not, feeling just a tad vulnerable.

It had never happened before. Not even when those bastards were pounding on him.

Yet the brown eyes of a beautiful massage therapist seemed to do it without effort.

She dimmed the lights in the room and put on soft, chiming music that was really relaxing.

As the anticipation of her touch built up in him, he sighed softly when her hands started on his upper shoulders. Her touch was sure, gentle, soothing. He tried not to read into it, but her hands just didn’t feel impersonal. He wasn’t sure if that was just his perception.

He didn’t really care. He liked it too much.

He heard her shift her position, felt her move closer, working the big muscles down the length of his back.

The bitch about getting injured was it sapped his energy. He had gotten up early and had worked out hard. The shock and dismay at Dr. Owens’s death had taken a toll, too. He fell asleep.

He drifted, but then flashes of images disturbed the silky, comforting darkness. He blinked and he could see vivid evergreens around him as the sharp scent of pine smoke from the fire drifted across their camp. Flashes of the images lit his brain, powerful and tantalizing. Trey, his big brother, was there and Thad, too. All of them teenagers. He frowned. Was this Yellowstone? Were they camping with their father? How was that possible? Anger against his mother swamped him when he realized she wasn’t there. Why couldn’t she be here, too? He looked at his brother Trey, and his heart lurched.

Darkness swirled around him and his face was blank. There were no eyes, mouth or nose. It was just flesh. Then the scene changed and darkness surrounded Sam. The smell of his own filth and blood disturbed his sleep, and he shifted. He was huddled on the floor, trying to breathe around his agony. He couldn’t find the will to lift his head. But the face of one of his tormenters thrust into his. His eyes widened and his mind reeled. It was Trey.

Foreign voices spun around him. Strong hands pulled at him and he made a sound of anguish, breathing hard and trying to prepare himself for more pain on top of what his aching body had already endured.

Pain exploded in his hip and he jerked away. With a cry of agony he reached for the hand that had touched him. He came fully awake and pushed himself up on the table. In the dim room, Olivia’s startled eyes met his. The memory of that place, his helplessness and the excruciating pain throbbed through him.

And she saw it immediately.

“You fell asleep and must have had a nightmare. It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice so soft and soothing.

Her wrist beneath his hand was delicate, her skin soft and warm. He took a breath and closed his eyes as he let her go. Damn nightmares.

He lay back down, trying to control his breathing. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare that easily. You just surprised me. But I totally understand. I’m sure what you endured was something I can’t even comprehend. No harm done.”

He really liked the way this woman was so frank.

“Are you comfortable moving on? I just have your lower body left to do, but if you’d prefer ending the session, we can.”

“No, it’s fine as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

She touched his lower back and he sighed. The small room seemed to get smaller as she bent over him, removing the sheet from one leg and tucking it securely under his opposite thigh.

She was close to him.

Very close.

Practically on top of him, and he was enjoying it a little too much—the whole thing, with her hands on him, and her voice close, and her fingers kneading and smoothing over his muscles, sliding over his skin. With every moment of contact, the heat in the small room rose another degree.

From then on it was pure torture trying to keep his body under control and in check. But as she moved around him to his other hip and then his hamstrings, her every touch sent a hot thrill straight to his groin.

And the sensual feel of her not-quite-impersonal hands caused a reaction.

He tried to minimize it. Tried to think of something to curtail his response, but it was no use.

He got an erection.

“I’m ready for you to turn over.”

He wanted to attribute the reaction of his body to not being with a woman for a long time, or to the fact that he’d just woken up from sleeping, but he knew better.

“Olivia, I have to let you know that I have an erection.”

When he looked at her, she didn’t bat an eye, but she looked a bit guilty. “That’s totally normal.”

He’d bet a lot of men got erections around her.

He really, really liked this woman’s direct and no-nonsense attitude.

“My job as a massage therapist is to help you integrate into your body. I’m here to help you heal not only from physical pain and injury, but also from emotional traumas that can be held in the body. Your body is the way it is and I don’t pass judgment on the normal and healthy reaction of a man. While an erection may be an uncomfortable topic for some, I have a different attitude about it.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. “Well, if that’s the case, go ahead and finish.”

“Are you comfortable with it? I don’t want you to feel at all uneasy.”

He rolled over, sat up and stuffed the sheet down between his legs, trapping his dick between his abdomen and the tightened sheet, then lay back down.

She smiled and nodded. “Good. I like a client who is in tune with his body and accepts it. I might also mention, in case it happens, that you might even discharge semen, as well. Also, totally normal.”

Oh, jeez, she would have to bring that up. He had no idea why this woman was having such an effect on him. There was something about her that really turned him on. So, he wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t ejaculate, either. “Good to know,” he said, amused at her complete trust in him. “Just so you know, I would never be inappropriate with you, Olivia.”

“I trust that you would never do that, Captain Winston.”

“It’s Sam,” he said. “If you’re comfortable with my erection, you should be comfortable with my first name.”

She smiled at him, and although he saw her struggle with her impartiality, her interest was wholly there.

When she put her hands on him again, there was some distance this time. He wondered if she felt a little responsible for making him hard, since he was still pretty sure her touch had not been as professional as she was with other clients. He also had to wonder if she was feeling soft toward him because he had been so wounded.

Regardless, she did a wonderful job. His shoulders felt great and she’d done wonders on his hip. Now she was kneading his quad.

After about ten minutes she finished and stepped back. He was drifting, enjoying the rhythm of her hands and the feel of her palms against his skin.

“Make sure you drink plenty of water when you get home.”

“I know the drill.”

“I’m sure you do, but we always remind our clients.”

“Thank you, Olivia. This has really helped.”

“My pleasure, Sam.”

She smiled at him and left the room. He got off the table, shrugged into his robe, went back to the locker room and showered. Getting dressed, he navigated his way out of the spa just as Olivia was pulling the outside door open. He hurried to hold it for her. She glanced back and then smiled.

They walked to the parking lot.

“Sam, would you be interested in having a coffee with me?”

He looked down at her, those candid eyes never wavering. He felt himself leaning closer, breathing in her scent. Which was dangerous given his current state of mind. But he seemed helpless to curb the impulse. Olivia Marshall wore her confidence like a well-worn sweater. He was so tempted with all that soft skin and a slightly lush bottom lip that just begged a man to taste it. Bite it. Just a little.

He got a hold of himself. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I can’t. I’ve got an appointment.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t spare just half an hour?” she said, disappointment clear in her eyes. There was something else there, too—something that was there and then gone.

He hated to be paranoid, but something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something in her voice that made him think...what? That she had targeted him? That was paranoid. She was a massage therapist, for Pete’s sake.

“I’m going to visit my mother.”

“Of course you would be. How is she doing?”

“She’s up and around along with Dan Henderson, her Secret Service agent.”

“That was so terrible. It must still be a difficult time for you.”

He nodded.

“Maybe some other time, then, for that coffee?”

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally.

As Olivia walked away, everything seemed to pile in on him all at once. Mike’s betrayal, his mother’s shooting, Dr. Owens’s death, the blackouts, the nightmares and feeling as if he couldn’t trust himself.

It was such an alien feeling and he wouldn’t have minded a nice woman to take his mind off it all. But it wouldn’t be fair to subject her to all his crap. Letting her go was a smart move.

So why didn’t it feel right?

He shifted his shoulders. Had he killed Dr. Owens?

Had it been a dream?

Or had it been reality?

* * *

As soon as Dan Henderson heard that Trey Winston was on the estate, he stepped inside Kate Winston’s sumptuous all-white master bedroom suite and spoke quietly to her while she was handling some correspondence from her desk. He let her know he was going to be right back and brought up another agent to stand guard outside her door.

Moving silently through the house and down the wide mahogany staircase, he went looking for Trey. One of the agents said he had gone into the library. When he knocked on the library door, then walked in, he was brought up short. Trey and Debra were playing kissy face near the desk. “Henderson, aren’t you supposed to be watching my mother?” Trey said, his eyes never leaving Debra.

Newlyweds, Dan thought. He had more important things on his mind than romance, but he smiled at Trey’s wry tone. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with your wife, sir.”

“That’s all right,” Debra said. I was just leaving. “I’ll go up and see Kate. You’ll join me after Agent Henderson is finished?

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Walking past him, she smiled, blowing Trey a kiss from the door, slipping out and leaving the door ajar.

“What is it? My mother...” Trey said, his blue eyes, so like his mother’s, looking immediately worried.

Dan shook his head. “She’s fine. Everything is quiet.”

“But something is bothering you.”

“Yes. Were you aware that Captain Winston moved off the estate?”

“I’m aware. We argued about it, but, Dan, Sam is a mess right now and he’s understandably upset about Mike Harris. He wanted to be on his own. He’s rented a house over near Six Forks Road. Under the circumstances, I can understand his pain. He and Mike were extremely close.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea for him to be at a different location rather than here at the estate where we can give him protection?”

“You’re talking about Sam, right?” Trey laughed. “Dan, he’s a U.S. Army Ranger. He can take care of himself. He wasn’t targeted. My mother was.”

“With all due respect, sir, he and Harris were captured and detained at the same Afghani camp, and now with Harris going off the grid, I...”

“You know I value your opinion. Hell, man, you saved my mother. I’m glad to finally see you up and about.”

“Yeah, on a cushy security detail,” he groused.

Trey smiled. “The estate is pretty cushy.”

Dan laughed. “Yes, sir.”

“What is it about Sam that is bothering you?”

“During my recovery, I had time to think about this. What could have happened at that place or to them...I mean, for such a dedicated soldier like Harris to turn against his own country and try to commit murder? As you said, sir, Harris was tough, both mentally and physically. He was in Special Forces. It just makes me twitch and spin conspiracy theories.”

“Like what?”

“I wasn’t here that night and I didn’t witness Harris’s meltdown, but another agent was and he was described as being disoriented. Thad even discovered the chief of police was involved and that this might go higher than we all think.”

“I’m aware of that, but all we can do at this point is let the feds do their job, while it’s business as usual for us.”

“But, sir. If Harris and your brother were captured together and your brother even admitted that there might be government involvement...aren’t you worried that Captain Winston—”

“What the hell are you saying? Are you accusing my brother of being involved in some crazy political organization?”

“Not exactly.”

Trey stiffened and his mouth flattened out. “Well, you’d better explain it and explain it to me good. Sam has been through enough and I won’t take anything said about him lightly.”

“I understand, sir. I’m just concerned that he’s out there alone with all that’s come to light.”

“I trust Sam with my life. He would never hurt anyone in this family, ever. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t bring this up again.”

Trey walked past him and out the library door. Dan stood there absorbing everything he’d said, but he was still not convinced that Captain Winston wasn’t somehow compromised in this whole situation. His instincts were honed and he’d almost felt that sniper even before the first bullets started to fly.

He was getting a hinky feeling about Trey’s brother.

His vow was to protect the former vice president of the United States. He didn’t answer to Trey Winston, although the man had powerful connections and could cause quite a few problems with his superiors. But Dan was never one to give a damn about chain of command. He’d taken a bullet for Kate Winston and he wasn’t about to let anything else happen to her.

Dan was going to keep his eye on Sam Winston whenever he was anywhere near his mother.

Chapter 2

Sam stepped into the foyer of his family’s estate. He paused in the hall, not sure if his mother was upstairs or down in the sitting room.

“If you’re looking for your mother, she’s out near the pool enjoying a cup of tea.”

Maddie Fitzgerald smiled at Sam, her plump face and eyes crinkling. She had been at the Adair Estate ever since Sam could remember. He adored her. She used to sneak him a chocolate chip cookie every day before dinner, saying that a strapping boy like him needed the calories and it wouldn’t at all ruin his dinner.

“I was. Thanks, Maddie.”

“How are you, Sam?”

Her sympathetic eyes roved over his face as she squeezed his forearm.

“I’m trying to just take one day at a time.”

“Best way to handle it. I just took a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.” She winked at him. “I’ll be serving luncheon in about fifteen minutes, but I’m sure it won’t spoil your lunch.”

He laughed even though he was here to deliver very unhappy news. With all the death and betrayals they had all experienced in the past few months, the news about Dr. Owens would be taken hard.

“I’ll come by the kitchen before I leave,” he said.

Sam made his way through the house. When he got to the pool area and walked down the stairs, Agent Dan Henderson moved in front of him.

“Captain Winston? Is everything all right?”

“No, not really,” he said to the dedicated agent. He was probably about six years younger than Sam, tall, fit, his dark blond hair combed off his face, his green eyes wary and alert. He filled out his suit jacket with a pair of broad shoulders that had sheltered his mother during the shooting. Sam was humbled by the younger man who, from reports he’d heard, had selflessly and courageously thrown himself in front of his mother. The bullet had almost killed him.

“Sam.”

Sam turned around to find his brother Trey, dressed as usual in a dark gray summer-weight, impeccably cut suit with a red power tie, coming down the stairs. His wife, Debra, her belly slightly rounded with their child, was beside him.

Debra hugged him hard and didn’t let go for a few minutes. Sam indulged her. She was a good match for his brother and he was happy for them. “Hello, Debra. How are you doing?”

“Fine. We’re happy to see you, Sam. How about you?”

She clasped his upper arms after she let him go, her sweet, pretty face full of concern. She’d been working for his mother ever since she’d been in the White House. He forced a smile for her sake and said, “One day at a time.”

She nodded and let him go. He shook Trey’s hand and got a jolt to his mind as he remembered the dream when he’d fallen asleep on the delectable Olivia Marshall’s massage table. He shifted his shoulders, letting go of his brother’s hand early. Trey gave him a quizzical look, but his mother was there to interrupt Sam’s gaze as she enveloped him in a hug.

“My boy. It’s good to see you. Come sit down, all of you.”

They moved toward the small table set up on the patio, the turquoise water of the pool looked inviting even in the early spring heat.

As they settled into their chairs, Sam’s mother turned her attention to him. “Is this just a visit to see how your old mom’s doing?”

“You’ll never be old, Mom,” Sam said. “I’m here to see how you’re doing and to deliver some very upsetting news.”

“Oh, no,” Kate said, her blue eyes clouding. “What is it?”

“Dr. Owens was murdered this morning.”

“Your psychologist? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Sam. I know that he was a very good doctor.”

“He was.”

Trey studied his face. “What is it, Sam?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help thinking that this may have something to do with Mom’s assassination attempt and Mike’s...” Sam’s throat constricted. “Mike’s meltdown.”

“This is all such a terrible business and I’m so sorry all of you got so involved in it. I know my political aspirations haven’t been easy on you all.”

“You did what you thought was good for Dad’s seat and for the family. We all know that, Mom,” Sam said.

As Maddie brought the lunch down, Sam stood up to help her with the tray. He saw Dan Henderson watching him with more than just a passing interest. He was watching him like a serious, vigilant Secret Service agent.

* * *

Late morning the next day, Sam entered his local coffee shop and stepped into line. He was behind about four people when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and his gaze collided with Olivia Marshall’s.

“Well, hello there,” she said, beaming.

Even with that sudden prickling sensation back, he couldn’t help smiling at her, feeling as if his day just got a bit brighter.

She looked good today, too. Her brown eyes sparkling, her multihued hair swinging free around her beautiful face. She was dressed in a butter-yellow shirt and a pair of snug, well-worn jeans. She looked delectable and smelled delicious.

“Olivia? You following me?”

She cocked her head and gave him a wry smile. “What if I was?”

He flashed a grin. “Ah, then I might have to think you were flirting with me.” His frustration with himself and the whole freaking ordeal was finally what had driven him out of the house today.

She laughed. “Oh, Sam, if it’s not clear, I must be terrible at it.”

“No, you’re fine at it.” Damn, this woman intrigued the hell out of him. She was so at ease in her skin, which, he realized, most of the women of his acquaintance, regardless of their beauty, were not. And by not playing on it, she had somehow managed to seem all the more sensual and attractive. Which should make absolutely no sense, but the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his mind was proof enough.

“How about we share a table?” she said.

He hesitated. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck refused to go away and, in fact, only grew stronger. Instincts this strong were rarely wrong. But they were usually rooted in something substantive. There had to be more here than he was seeing. And yet, at the same time, he’d never wanted more to be wrong.

All last night—while he’d been distracting himself with a Chicago White Sox game and found it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on any of the innings for longer than a few minutes—he could only think that had to be some babe to interrupt his baseball obsession.

He wanted—needed—to create more distance because he thought about Dr. Owens a lot last night. He’d checked both of his handguns and neither of them had been fired. That gave him a measure of relief. But if he hadn’t killed Dr. Owens, maybe he’d been the reason he was murdered. He wasn’t used to his thoughts being so clouded and paranoid, and he knew his judgment could be off. He simply had to find an edge and hold on to it.

Keeping his distance from this woman wasn’t giving him the clarity he wanted. And all the thinking and distraction weren’t going to help.

“Sure. I’ve got nothing but time to kill.”

She gave him a smile, and there was absolutely nothing impersonal about it.

“What can I get you, sir?”

He realized that he’d been standing there staring at her. He forced his attention away from her face to the barista.

After placing and receiving their orders, he and Olivia walked over to a table by the window. People were walking by on the sidewalk.

“So, how did you end up at Rosebud Spa? Not exactly a place where a rough-and-tough Special Forces guy hangs out.”

“Ha! No, not exactly. I got referred.”

“By whom?”

He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to talk about his mental issues with this woman. She had seen him after he’d woken from that disturbing nightmare and she was so open and easy to talk to. “Dr. John Owens, he’s a psychologist.”

She made a small reaction, her eyes dimmed. “I heard he was murdered.”

“Yes.” His chest got tight and he had to look away. Damn his mental state. He felt he was acting like a little girl, but he had to admit a great fondness for Dr. Owens. “He was a good man.”

“I’m sure.”

“How did you end up working at the Rosebud?”

“I was looking for a job that would give me some pickup work. The owners were looking for a fill-in. It works out for me.”

“You have only the one job?”

She looked away and he got that prickling again. Could just be his paranoia and he was reading something into nothing, given his fixation with trying to figure out what set off his instincts with this woman.

“I work another job. A boring office job. Nothing special.”

He couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary in her statement. But in this situation he always followed his gut. “I can’t imagine that. I’ve been in the field so long serving Uncle Sam I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t enlisted.”

“I can tell it’s something that you’ve been thinking about. You looking to retire?” She took a sip of her coffee, keeping her gaze trained on him.

“I don’t know. I’m tired, and to be honest, I have thought about getting out.”

“Burned out? I’ve seen that before in my job.”

“I bet.” He finished his coffee and decided it was a good idea to nip this in the bud and get the hell away while the getting was good. He rose.

She rose, too, and stood directly in his path. “Look, what do you have planned today?”

Startled by her question, he didn’t answer right away. “Like I said, I’m killing time.” He regretted the words immediately. She was fixin’ to ask him to spend more time with her. He was sure.

“I’m going to the flea market at the fairgrounds, then the Museum of Art. They have a really nice park nearby. You interested?”

Was he ever, and not in just spending the day with her! His initial reaction was to be pleased and flattered as a man would be when a woman he was interested in showed the same in return. Which was the wrong reaction entirely. His gut was telling him something was off. But it might have nothing to do with her. And yet...that was the first thing he’d felt. A good wake-up call that his gut was probably as paranoid as his head.

“Am I reading you wrong?” she asked.

He didn’t move away. He told himself he just wanted to see her eyes up close, get a better idea of what he might be reading in her.

“If I am, I apologize. But I don’t normally have to work this hard for a date.”

Thoroughly charmed, he laughed. Up close like this, with the sunlight illuminating that captivating hair, he got caught up in her look. For someone so forthright and confident, the innocence she projected seemed incongruous. And yet he found her so sweet and compassionate, and it reminded him that no matter how tough the exterior, everyone was vulnerable in some way.

“My life is complicated, Olivia. More so than most people would want to deal with.”

“Oh, well, it’s just the flea market and the art museum and a walk in the park. Sounds like those are uncomplicated things. You look like you could use a simple day. There’s a great café at the museum.”

Sam’s smile came slowly. “I bet you won all your debates in college.”

Her smile spread to a grin that was unaffected as it was honest. “Well, as a matter of fact, I did.”

An afternoon with a beautiful woman—simple, uncomplicated. He could really go for that.

And it was a great afternoon. Olivia was a great conversationalist, lively, with a wicked sense of humor.

So it was easy for him to understand how she ended up at his house on the couch watching baseball with him after he’d grilled some steaks they had picked up on the way there. He was really comfortable with her, and he couldn’t make himself send her on her way.

It didn’t help that she’d snuggled up to him in an open, warm way. He wasn’t going to kiss her, but the urge to do so plagued him.

He was so glad he had that straight in his head. So little was straight in his head these days.

He leaned his head back, enjoying her warm body so close to his. With every breath she took, an irrepressible longing was building inside him, making his chest tight.

It would be good if he could take a full breath, but it seemed as if his lungs were at only half capacity. Maybe that was why he was lightheaded. There was only one truth here: he wanted her.

It had been so long since he’d wanted a woman. Well, he always wanted one. He just hadn’t bothered lately to find one, something he used to do without putting out too much effort. Usually women were just there.

But if they’d been anywhere lately, he hadn’t noticed, not since Afghanistan.

He’d noticed her, though. Noticed her in a way that was impossible to ignore, deep down in his gut, viscerally.

Man, the day had taken more out of him than he realized and before he knew it, he was back in that sunlit glen, back in Yellowstone with his father, the tents, the campfire, the anger, no, hatred at his mother. Only this time, no one was there. In the distance, he heard growling and it got closer and closer until a bear materialized out of the forest. He stood frozen as it watched him, its eyes feral and menacing. Then it was just his brother Trey standing there, that darkness all around him and his face blank again, just blank.

He started awake and found that the game had ended, but Olivia was gone. Had she left without saying goodbye?

Then he heard something from his office and he rose, that prickling starting up all over again. His training kicked in and he ghosted through the house to the room. The door was ajar and Olivia was in there on his computer, files strewn across his desk. Files she’d obviously been nosing through.

The look on her face was rapt, professional and determined. He felt all kinds of betrayed and a little relieved. His instincts weren’t totally off and he wasn’t paranoid for nothing.

When she turned off his computer and carefully put his files away, she rose and he made his move, grabbing her from behind.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m a private investigator,” she said, not at all intimidated.

“Who the hell are you working for?” he growled.

“Dr. John Owens.... I’m his sister.”

Chapter 3

The fact that he had his forearm snug around her throat and her waist, his warm, hard chest against her back made her lose focus for just a second. She’d thought last night about all that warm skin that she’d had her hands on. She’d even found it extremely difficult to get to sleep not only because her dear brother had been murdered, but because memories of touching Sam had plagued her. He was a very attractive man, his chiseled features memorable. He had a set of blue eyes that were intense, focused with a lethal edge, and a full bottom lip that was distracting all on its own but, when matched with his perfect bow of an upper lip, made a deadly combination. Very gorgeous, very kissable. The memory of the shape, size and feel of his body was burned into her mind. She wasn’t at all worried that he was going to hurt her. She didn’t know how, but she just knew.

“If you could let go of me, we can discuss this. I mean you no harm, Sam.” Damn, he was tall, six two to her five ten. The arm around her waist was immovable. He was holding her so tight against him, she could feel the beat of his heart against her back. Her backside pressed up against his muscular hips.

He released her and she turned to face him. Sam just stared at her and she couldn’t blame him. He looked so confused, his blue eyes full with a sense of betrayal. She did feel very guilty about that. But she wanted to understand who this man was and why her brother had been so insistent that she follow him and, if the need arose, protect him. That made her pause because Sam Winston looked as though he could quite easily take care of himself. He screamed warrior in a potent way that made her only want to get closer to his dangerous edge.

In the short period of time that she’d known him, she was beginning to understand why her brother cared about Sam so much. Her brother was the kind of man who worried about all his patients, but he considered Sam special because of what had happened to their father. Now she understood why her brother was so keen on helping Sam.

“You’re Dr. Owens’s sister? Let me see proof.”

His eyes were hard and filled with a distrust that Olivia totally understood. “I’d have to get my purse in the living room.”

He nodded sharply and followed her out there. Picking up her handbag, she reached inside and snagged her wallet. Dragging out her license and P.I. ID, she handed both to him.

He studied them. “They look legit, but in my line of work, I can never take anything at face value. People disguise themselves and fabricate identities as easily as breathing.”

He handed the IDs back to her. “I don’t understand why you’re here.”

“I know you don’t. But, in light of my brother’s death, you can’t blame me for being cautious about you.”

He ran his big hand over his dark brown hair buzzed close to his scalp, his blue eyes wary and stormy. “Dr. Owens never mentioned a sister,” he said.

“That’s because my brother didn’t talk about his personal life with his clients. The only proof I can offer you is the truth. John Owens was my brother. He left me everything as I am his only family, including the keys to his practice. I control all his files, notes, tapes, everything.”

He let out a heavy breath. “I guess for the time being, I’ll have to take your word for it.” He shifted, his eyes still wary, but now there was sympathy there and what looked like...guilt. “I’m so sorry about your brother. I know what it’s like to lose people close to you. I just lost a buddy of my own. We’d been through a lot together and he was like a brother to me.”

She nodded. “Mike Harris. I always do my homework on a case, and I read all about you and your family in the paper. I’m sorry about your loss, too, Sam.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, the pain and the loss clearly on his face as he nodded. The distress in his voice and his eyes wasn’t an act. She was very good at reading people. A sudden ache constricted her throat at the fresh memory of just speaking with John two days ago. His warm voice and the way he’d always given her a quick hug whenever they parted. Tears welled up in her eyes as the emotions rushed over her in a terrible sense of loss.

Sam’s expression relaxed, his blue eyes going soft with his compassion as he reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

“Before Mike shot my mother, I would have sworn with total confidence that he wasn’t capable of doing something that horrible. He was not just my friend,” he said with conviction. “We were comrades and we’d been through more than normal men ever go through. I thought our bond was unbreakable. I can’t count the times he’d saved my ass and the times I’d saved his. So it was natural to invite him into my life.”

Her reaction to Sam was so visceral. On every level. Yesterday before she’d met him, she had thought he was a head case that could be a bit out of control, maybe even broken. But then she’d talked to him, seen the terrible scars on his back, the remnants of his agony. When he’d woken from that nightmare, the fear stark on his face, everything in her galvanized into a hard ball of need to help him any way she could.

“He took advantage of that for the sole purpose of murdering my mother.” Sam’s voice broke and she reached out and touched his shoulder. He sidestepped her hand and paced away. “After Mike shot her, I questioned everything I knew.”

He paused and she could see how he was struggling with Mike’s betrayal. Even more surprising was her need to comfort him, but he wasn’t allowing that. She was so happy that Mike Harris had failed. Olivia was a big supporter of Sam’s mother. She thought Kate Winston was a wonderful vice president. Of course, she had voted for her and would vote for her whatever office she was running for. She was one of those no-holds-barred politicians and she told it like it was. But Olivia wasn’t going to gush all of that to Sam. She could only secretly hope there would be an opportunity to meet her.

He set his hands on his hips and faced her squarely. She appreciated his honesty. She didn’t think Sam had anything to hide, really. John was tight-lipped about Sam’s circumstances. Her brother was always aware of his patient’s confidentiality, so Olivia was really in the dark here about Sam. She would have to rely on her own interviewing skills to decipher what was going on with this guy.

“I assume you suspect I had something to do with your brother’s death and that’s the reason for this subterfuge.”

He wasn’t one to pull punches, but she guessed that was true because he was a Ranger and those kinds of guys hit things head-on. There was something unsettled in his eyes, something apprehensive, with just a touch of fear there, too.

“No, going undercover was John’s idea, Sam. He wanted you to be safe, but he didn’t want to break or damage your trust with him. So he asked me to be totally discreet. I got a job at the spa to stay close. But I will admit that after my brother’s murder, the thought had crossed my mind. My brother asked me to follow you for a reason. Now I wonder if it got him killed.”

“You don’t think I killed him?”

“He was concerned about you, Sam. He thought you needed protection. Why would I think such a thing?”

“Because I wasn’t sure. Olivia, I have memory loss and sometimes I black out and do things I don’t remember.”

“You didn’t kill my brother. I don’t believe that.”

“Thank you for that.” He glanced away, then back. “Dr. Owens hired you to protect me?” That made him smile wryly. “Damn, Dr. Owens,” he said, shaking his head. “He thought I needed protection...yet he was the one who suffered for trying to help me.”

“So you think his murder has something to do with you?”

“I don’t know, Olivia. I truly don’t, but it feels like he was...assassinated.”

That jolted her with a sudden fear of who was behind this, but it wasn’t going to get her to back off. There was more here with Sam, but they were just getting started and she would get Sam to open up to her later when he trusted her more. Because now that she was here, she had no intention of leaving until she got to the bottom of her brother’s death and the threat to Sam. Sam was very much alive, and Olivia believed he was in danger.... She knew he was in danger. Walking away from this wasn’t an option. She owed that much to John.

But even with that determination, her stomach knotted. She tried to get detached from her brother’s murder and think like a private investigator, but she couldn’t quite get to that level of objectivity. She said, “What do you mean? The police won’t tell me anything.”

He looked at her as though he didn’t want to go on.

“Tell me, Sam. I can take it. I need to know.”

He crossed back to her and stood close, his voice a low rasp, his teeth clenched. “He was shot in the head. A kill shot that, to me, says professional.”

Her stomach jumped and tumbled. That information was certainly cause for alarm and made it clear why Sam was worried. “Even if that’s the case, I intend to find out who killed my brother.”

He set his jaw and looked past her into the darkened kitchen. “Olivia, you don’t have a clue what you’re up against. I don’t know who could be involved here, but ever since Mike and I were captured and imprisoned, I haven’t trusted my government. Hell, I can’t even trust my own memories. What I have of them.”

“Why don’t you trust them?”

“I’m only telling you to convince you of the folly of pursuing this.” The reluctance in his voice indicated to her that he was clinging to his training and the “need to know” edict that he lived by. What he was telling her must be classified information. “Very few people knew where we were on that mission. It had to have been compromised. I can hardly remember the details, but what I do remember feels like a damn ambush. I don’t trust the army and I don’t trust the CIA, even though they rescued me. I don’t even know if I’m going back, if I can even get my memories back and feel fully functional again.”

Olivia watched his face, saw the way his jaw hardened against the uncertainty of his life, saw the anger in his eyes and the vulnerability that lay beneath it, and her heart ached for him. He was close to her, leaning slightly toward her to make his point. She wanted to cup his jaw, give him some comfort. The memory of her hands on him came back at her with a sizzling jolt, the feel of his hot, slick muscles beneath her palms. She had totally tried to remain cool, but with each stroke of her hands over his skin, she’d lost that impartiality in the heat of him.

It was clear that he was attracted to her, and that gave her a thrill. His blue eyes dipped to her mouth and she shivered at the thought of him leaning in, pressing that mouth against hers, the tactile memory of his body only fueling the sudden need. They stared at each other.

She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. Then he broke it and stepped back out of her reach, battling with the temptation that only made her heart pound that much harder at the sheer promise of giving in to it.

“I’m sorry for what you went through. I’m sure it was horrible, intense and extremely terrifying,” she said with compassion. “But the fact remains that my brother was murdered and I’m sticking like glue to the man who may be the key to discovering who killed him. I can’t back down. John wouldn’t want me to.” Her voice was a bit unsteady as the emotion and enormity of what she was saying sank in. “I’ve lost my brother and I can’t...won’t abandon my promise to him to protect and help you, Sam.”

“There are some dangerous people out there, and you might be out of your league, he said, clearly exasperated as he ran both hands over his short hair.

The movement only tightened his powerful biceps and drew attention to his face. With his closely cropped hair, his maleness and his striking looks were pronounced, which made his impact on her even more of a gut punch to her senses. She could only marvel at how calm her voice was. “I’m aware of that.” That calmness seemed to set him off. His eyes went a hot blue and he was in her face again. He clasped her upper arm roughly and shook her slightly.

“Dammit, Olivia. I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you could now be in danger because of me. I can’t bear another innocent death on my hands. If you are going to continue with this investigation against my advice, then you are sticking close to me, rather than blunder into something that will get you killed.”

“Sam, I’m a private investigator, not some innocent woman off the street. I understand the danger and the consequences.”

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. I can use just about any weapon to kill—silently with a knife, with a gun from a distance, and even my bare hands.... The people we could be up against have all those abilities and one thing I don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“A complete and utter disregard for human life.”

She met his tough gaze with her chin up and her eyes hard. She took in the wild gleam of pain in his expression, the muscles and tendons that stood out in his neck, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She suspected most women in her shoes would back off, turn around right now and bolt, trying to get as far away from Sam Winston as was possible. But Olivia wasn’t one of those women. In fact, Sam intrigued her, a devastating combination of warrior and hero.

“I’ll be careful.”

He smiled then, but it wasn’t in amusement. “That’s right. Here with me.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s nonnegotiable, Olivia.”

“Don’t get high-handed with me, Sam. I make my own decisions.”

He let go of her arm and stepped closer, and she tensed. She tried not to show it, but the man unnerved her. The stabilized world she lived in had suddenly become filled with this irresistible and wholly captivating man who had a very destabilizing effect. She wasn’t sure what to do about that. She wasn’t a shrinking violet, and Sam would have to get used to that. She faced things head-on, too.

His eyes went hard and flinty, and she had to resist the urge to shiver. He had intimidating down to a science. Gone were the soft eyes and the soft tone. In their place was blue granite and a flat, steely voice that brooked no argument—something she would expect of a man who lived by his wits and honed strength, one who was used to giving out orders. “You’re moving in here with me until this is over. I won’t take no for an answer. We’ve just become roommates.”

“Giving me ultimatums only makes me want to be contrary,” she returned flatly.

He did smile then and it relieved the tension in his face. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m not too happy about it, either, Olivia.”

“Are you using reverse psychology on me?”

He laughed. “Would that work?” He sobered. His gaze locked on hers, so intent, so focused. So trustworthy and steady. “Okay, then do it for me so I can sleep at night knowing that if you need me, I can be there in a flash.” He said it quietly, but somehow the softer tone wasn’t the least bit comforting. In fact, it only served to unnerve her further.

She had to take a breath because he made her lungs feel compressed. “Now you’re preying on my emotions, but I’m inclined to let you win this one. Safety in numbers and all that. We’ll make a good team.”

“I’m not exactly a team player. But you’re not the only one who owes something to your brother.”

She told herself she was agreeing to stay with him for safety reasons. But that might have been the biggest lie she’d ever told herself. Even though this man stirred her blood, she wasn’t a pushover. But it was clear he was dangerous in so many ways—to her equilibrium and maybe to her very life. She was going to have to be vigilant about both. A cocky loner wasn’t exactly her type. They didn’t usually play nice with others.

“This Lone Ranger act doesn’t work well within a team.”

“Would that be Team Owens?”

She tilted her head. Okay, he was quick on the uptake.

“I’ll show you to my guest room. The bathroom has an extra toothbrush in it and I can find you something to sleep in.”

She nodded, her heart fluttering just thinking about being under the same roof as Sam. He headed toward the back of the house and she grabbed her purse and followed him. He opened the door to a modest room with a bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared through the doorway across the hall, and Olivia set her purse on the bed. She would have to go to her apartment and pick up some things tomorrow. She also still had arrangements to handle with her brother’s funeral, which was the day after tomorrow.

For a moment, the loss of her brother overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes against the sudden stab of pain, her arm banded around her waist.

“Olivia?”

She started. She hadn’t heard him come up to her.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I was just thinking about John. Were you planning on coming to his funeral?”

“Yes, I was.”

“It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“I know.” He looked sad and guilty all over again.

She couldn’t even tell him it wasn’t his fault, because she didn’t really know if it was. All she knew was that her brother was dead after hiring her to watch one of his patients. That patient was in some kind of trouble that Olivia couldn’t even fathom. After the attempt on his mother’s life and the involvement of one of his army buddies in the shooting, it was clear it was on a much deadlier and wider scale than she’d ever dealt with.

She couldn’t imagine what Sam was going through. He looked stressed, but that wasn’t a stretch. He was seeing her brother for therapy. Whether that had to do with his military service, the turmoil in his private life right now, or something else, Olivia couldn’t guess. She was determined to get answers regarding John’s death.

But she wasn’t going to back off and let her brother or Sam down.

“Let’s get some sleep,” she said. “We’ll tackle it in the morning when we’re fresher.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” He held out a camouflage T-shirt that was large enough that it would come to her about midthigh.

She accepted it and their hands brushed. His were as warm as she remembered his skin had been. There she was again, thinking about him totally naked. When he’d gotten that hard-on, she couldn’t help wondering if it was because she’d been touching him...okay, not in a therapeutic way. She probably was the one who caused it. She couldn’t seem to feel sorry about that. She liked the fact that she turned this man on.

But it would be smart to keep her distance now that she didn’t have to pretend to date him. They could do away with that altogether. Well, she could pretend, couldn’t she?

“Good night, Olivia.”

“Night, Sam.”

He left and closed the door behind him. She set the shirt on the bed and went into the bathroom, finding the spare toothbrush and toothpaste. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, still pondering Sam’s mental state.

Once that was done, she stripped down to nothing but her undies and pulled the shirt over her head. The soft cotton settled against her body, and her skin flushed as she thought of this fabric having at one time been against Sam’s hard chest, broad shoulders and thickly muscled back.

She slipped beneath the covers and wondered how she was going to even get to sleep. So much had happened in just two short days.

She’d have to watch herself and try to find her professionalism somewhere in all that melting she did around Sam.

Any way she sliced it, Sam Winston was trouble.

Chapter 4

Sam started awake, standing in the middle of his room again. His chest was heaving as if he’d been running. His skin was slick with a cold sweat, his shoulder throbbing. He felt sick with fear, the taste of it like bile in his mouth. He was shaking as if he were freezing, but it was warm in the room. Waves and waves of pain, that’s all he could remember. Unending. When he reached for some remnant of the nightmare, there was nothing there.

There should have been.

Plenty.

These bits and pieces of what had happened to him were almost more torturous than actually remembering. Maybe.

The blank place where his memory should be was a wall of darkness.

A black freaking hole.

He walked on shaky legs back to his bed and sat down. Sam eased in a steadying breath, reaching down deep inside himself for calm.

He hovered on the edge of panic and he didn’t know why.

He wanted to call Dr. Owens. He had even risen to go look for his cell when he stopped and...felt that panic inch a bit closer.

“Damn!” he said into the quiet room. Maybe it was because his defenses were down or it was because he needed Dr. Owens, but tears pressed on the backs of his eyes. He wanted to rip out the heart of the person who had stolen Dr. Owens’s life. If he ever found out who that was...and if it was because of him...that was something he would regret for the rest of his life.

The panic intensified and Sam thought he was going to jump out of his skin. Then deep brown eyes flashed in his memory. Then that caramel hair and that soft, kissable mouth. He took a deep breath and the panic receded a little bit more. Olivia’s curves. How she had felt against him, her shapely butt pressed against his groin, the warmth of her skin beneath his forearm. He took another breath and more of the panic retreated.

He went into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and he wasn’t sure if this was from the fear, the memory of Olivia or his nightmare.

He turned on the shower and stripped off his shorts, soaked with sweat. The warm water felt amazing. As amazing as Olivia’s hands running over him, giving him relief from the pain. His skin was sensitive as he soaped up and rinsed himself off, the memory of his reaction to what he couldn’t remember being replaced by thoughts of Olivia, thoughts about her wet and soapy against him, her delectable mouth on his, his hands all over her.

He got hard and lost in the fantasy, desperate to push his failure to find peace, to understand what had happened to him, and to make a damn difference away from him. Unable to help himself, he cupped his raging erection and leaned one hand against the wall as he imagined himself deep inside Olivia. He bit his bottom lip as the pleasure built, wondering, imagining how she would move, how she would feel, slick and warm. He came hard, grunting with the spiraling pleasure. Damn, that woman turned him on and she’d been what he needed to push back the darkness.

Outside the shower, he toweled himself off, still vibrating from his powerful orgasm. He went to his dresser and pulled out another pair of army-green cotton shorts with Army Strong stitched into the hem.

He walked out into the hall and then into the kitchen. He pulled a cold bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrewed the cap and downed the whole thing in a few gulps, then grabbed another one.

“Sam?”

He started and spilled water down his chest, grimacing and gasping as the cold liquid hit his hot skin.

She blinked in the light from the kitchen, her expression apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Olivia?” Her hair was tousled around her face with a half-lidded sleepy look that said she’d just rolled out of bed. The thought of her all warm and soft against him arrowed right into his groin. She looked luscious in his oversize shirt. It fit her like a dress. He liked that she wasn’t at all self-conscious around him.

That heated fantasy came back to him and he reached for a towel, dragging his eyes away from her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry I woke you. Just a nightmare.” He wiped off his chest, displacing his dog tags as Olivia’s eyes followed his movement. Was she looking at him or what he was doing? His blood surged.

“I thought I heard running water.”

“I took a shower.”

Her eyes traveled over him and he got his answer. She was looking at him. Definitely. In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated in making time with a woman. But this was Dr. Owens’s sister and...well... He rubbed the back of his neck. Hadn’t he just jacked off thinking about her? He was an idiot and, on top of it, he was so messed up. All he could allow himself to do was think about it. But his mind went there anyway. He knew that reality would be much better than his fantasy.

“Did it help?”

He hid his smile. “Yes, it did.”

He rolled his shoulder to try to alleviate the dull throbbing there.

She came into the kitchen when she saw the expression of pain on his face. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

If he said yes, she would probably offer to help, and he couldn’t quite hold on to his resolve. His family was great as usual, but with all the turmoil in his professional and personal life, it was nice to think about a beautiful woman giving him some measure of comfort. The fact that it was Dr. Owens’s sister was ironic.

“Yes, it’s 24/7, honey.”

She gave him a wry look at the flippant endearment. “Come into the living room and I’ll work it for a bit.”

Without giving him any time to answer, she took his wrist and pulled him into the living room. He’d met some forceful women in his life, and his mother was at the top of the list, but he’d had yet to meet one he’d let drag him around by the nose or his dick.

But he was beginning to reassess that whole thing since not only was Olivia steal-his-breath beautiful, but her assertiveness was a turn-on.

She sat down and with her hands on his hips, turned him so his back was to her. “Sit.”

He chuckled as he complied. “Yes, ma’am.”

She slipped one of those silky bare arms under his armpit and around his shoulder joint to hold him steady as she began to knead the muscles connecting to his shoulder.

He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“You can lean back if you want, Sam. I’m not a delicate flower.”

She pulled him toward her and he sank into her, her chin just over the shoulder she was working, her breath warm against his skin. The wisp of her exhale sent a shiver of pleasure along his nerve endings. He was glad he took the edge off in the shower, because this was pure sensual torment.

“Wow, you’re still a bit tight. Have you thought about seeing a chiropractor?”

Reclining against her now, listening to her voice, which managed to be both soothing and no-nonsense, and breathing in her enticing scent, he could barely register what she was saying.

“Sam?”

“Huh.”

“Chiropractor?”

“Um, no. I hadn’t,” he said, sighing again as the pain lessened with the pressure of her warm, insistent hand. “How do you know all about this therapeutic massage?”

“I was actually a massage therapist. In fact, I’ve had a number of jobs that have now come in quite handy as a P.I. A jack-of-all-trades makes it easy to fit into any kind of job you might need to carry out your client’s wish. I did once have certification but faked it this time to get the job. They might have discovered it eventually, but it was only a temporary situation. Or so I thought.”

He dropped his head back against her shoulder and looked up at her, into eyes that easily held his own when challenged.... Yeah, he was finding his rationale a little harder to hang on to.

His body was finding it even more difficult. He had to chalk that up to being a man, one who didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted most of the time. Her hair smelled good and he breathed deeply of her scent, the strands tickling his cheeks.

“You need to do it.”

Those words immediately evoked the image of him on top of her doing it. “Huh?” he said, feeling drugged and sluggish with the intoxication of her.

She laughed softly, “The chiropractor? Are you getting sleepy?”

No, he was getting turned on even more. This close he could see that her eyes were a deep brown, like melted chocolate. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Was that a yes to the chiropractor or yes to being sleepy?”

“You are very pushy.”

“Ha! Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black, Sam?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard look. “Don’t patronize me.”

He chuckled and her face softened, her eyes roving over him. Ah, damn, he didn’t need her looking at him as if she was thinking any of those same things in return or getting turned on by him. Temptation, in this case, was not a good thing. He had enough to handle just trying to keep his head on straight—make that both his heads.

He couldn’t afford to be noticing things, or noticing her noticing things, either.

But her gaze stayed on his face and then dipped boldly down to his mouth.

* * *

Olivia had never been one of those coy women. She had always dealt with men just the same as she’d dealt with women. They needed to be handled differently, of course. Men were action-oriented, relied on logic and concise communication. Say exactly what you meant around a man and he would get your meaning every time. Even Olivia found that read-between-the-lines crap some women liked to peddle annoying.

So her reaction to Sam was intense. Much more intense than it had been with any man she’d dated. His looks aside, he was intelligent, compassionate, tough, obviously courageous and had a good sense of humor.

She liked so many things about him, which was good and bad. Like where she was right now, taking his weight against her, touching all that tanned, gorgeous muscle.

She pressed harder into him and he groaned softly, and that had a very volatile effect on her, sizzling her nerve endings. “It will feel better in a minute,” she promised.

“No pain, no gain?”

“Something like that.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, his dark, impossibly thick eyelashes like half-moons on his cheeks. “That feels great,” he said. “You might not do this for a living, but you’re good at it.” The stubble shadowing his jaw accentuated his mouth. She really, really needed to stop looking at that mouth. But the stubble gave him a rugged edge, emphasizing all the more those beautiful lips of his.

She shifted and he tensed. “Don’t move,” she said as she slipped out from behind him, leaving him to recline against the cushions. “Let me work it from the front.”

She dug in again and her hands trembled. She braced her hand beside his head, intending to use her elbow to get at the muscle in his joint, but she lost her focus and her damn mind in the beauty of Sam. Instead of continuing with the massage, she leaned all the way down, bracing her hand on the other side of his head. Fleetingly, she thought this was such a bad idea for so many reasons. But the impulse came over her and she couldn’t seem to help herself. He seemed so alone, so isolated, she wanted to comfort him in a more intimate way. She brushed her lips across his.

His eyes flashed open and he looked up at her with those stark blue eyes. She held his gaze for what felt like forever. She could feel the power of his personality in that gaze even while she could read nothing of his thoughts. She started to draw back, but he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth against his with a soft groan. His movement gave his dog tags a sexy, musical jingle.

The touch of his mouth made her want so much more, that bottom lip, so sensual, so full she couldn’t help using the tip of her tongue to savor the taste and feel of him. His open mouth was so inviting as he groaned again at the slide of her tongue. His chest heaved against hers, the thin T-shirt no barrier against the heat of his broad chest. Her breasts ached, her nipples tightening and hardening. Both of them panting, she took his mouth again. His fingers caressed the back of her neck when she opened her mouth, and the kiss just got hotter.

Warm, moist lips met hers, still open and so inviting, offering. He slipped his tongue inside, tracing slowly around the inner edge of her lips, then slipped deeper, probing, exploring. Olivia tried to catch her breath, but he kept stealing it every time his mouth moved over hers.

The heat flowed down over her, followed by Sam’s hands. He ran his hands down her back, sending shivers, setting off new ones, sliding lower. Desire swelled inside her, pushing aside sanity, blazing a trail for more instinctive responses. She arched against him, losing herself in the kiss and in the moment.

She slid her hand over his dark brown cropped hair, soft and smooth against his scalp. She molded her palms over the curve of his head and slanted her mouth across his as needs took over with a burning edge. His hands slid over her buttocks, kneading, stroking. He caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up, his knuckles skimming over the taut muscles of her back, skating along the side of her rib cage. The skin just below her breasts and on her stomach made hard, searing contact with his, and it was her turn to groan.

He was so silky soft and sizzling hot against her. He jerked the T-shirt more and her tight nipples made contact. His whisper of pleasure vibrated against her lips. She felt as if she were tumbling through space, dizzy, hanging on tight to her only anchor. Then suddenly she was on her back looking up into the blazing, passionate eyes of Sam. He dipped his head, focusing on her breasts and she arched in reaction to his gaze.

Then he was at her breast, his tongue grazing against her nipple, his lips tugging gently. The sensation was incredible, setting off a flutter of something wild inside her.

A car alarm close by went off and they both jolted at the sound. Sam lay against her for a moment, tense and alert. Then he sighed when the alarm abruptly cut off.

He looked down at her and swore vehemently as he pushed off her and sat back.

For a moment she let the regret wash through her as his eyes caressed her still. Reluctantly she pulled down her T-shirt and sat up.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Olivia...”

“I know. There are so many reasons why this would be a bad idea.”

He nodded. “But I want to say the hell with all those reasons.”

“But you’re worried. About me.”

She was trying not to fool herself. She knew he was a stranger, but that kiss...she’d melted into him, disappeared inside him and had been more with him than she’d ever been with anyone in her life. Right or wrong, the feelings were there and they were real.

She just wanted to bury her face in the curve of his neck and start all over again. She didn’t get embarrassed about her feelings like other women, and she sure as hell didn’t get them hurt often. She was methodical about who she chose to date.

Sam...was an American hero, a military man. Normally that would suit her. Gone a good bit of the time was okay in her book, but when she thought about Sam going anywhere, she didn’t like that idea.

He stood and moved away from her as if he didn’t trust himself. “I’m so messed up, Olivia. So messed up. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be right again. Normal. If I am, it’s back to Special Forces for me. Uncle Sam is all I really know.”

“In the short time that I’ve known you, you’ve never sounded so unsure about anything.”

He rubbed his hand over that short sexy hair, and Olivia just wanted to get her hands on him again.

“I don’t really know you, but it must be a trait that runs in your family, because I’m close to spilling my guts and I’m not used to that. I barely talk to my family. In Special Forces showing any weakness is unacceptable. But I can’t go back to my unit until I figure out what happened to me.”

“Sam,” she said, rising and going over to him. “If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I won’t ever betray your trust. It has to be ironclad if we’re going to weather all this.”

He backed away from her and ran his hand over his head again. That was fear she saw in his eyes, and she suspected that he’d had plenty of that in the six months he’d been back in Raleigh. She figured he was tired, too. The kind of tired you didn’t get from one difficult day. Those nightmares must be awful if the look on his face when he had woken on the table was any indication.

“Talk to me.”

She shut up then, deciding to let him find his own way into the conversation they both knew they had to have.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow. She was a bit worried he might hyperventilate, but she held her tongue and let him work through it in his head. Men like Sam powered through fear, and the courage it must have taken for him to seek out her brother humbled Olivia.

He brought his head down and opened his eyes, then settled back a bit more. He released a shaky breath, his eyes dark and tormented. He tried to speak, but his voice gave out on him. His face contorted in an agony of emotion. Finally he said, “Do I feel freaked out because your brother is dead?” in a hushed voice. “Yes. I have a tremendous amount of guilt about it. And that’s bad enough, but he can’t help me anymore. And, Olivia, I need that help. I’ve got to unlock what’s inside my head. That’s where the answers are, but it’s just blank. Like a black wall.”

As she watched him, an enormous need unfolded in her. A need to comfort him, to assure him, a need to simply wrap her arms around him to let him know he wasn’t alone. But she sensed he wasn’t open to that right now, the muscles along his bristled jaw tensing. “Then we should find someone else to help you.”

He shook his head, his eyes stark. “I can’t....” Folding his arms across his chest, he didn’t move for the longest time; then he let his breath go in a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes, swallowing hard. Finally he spoke, his voice gruff. “I can’t trust that what I might have said to your brother somehow got him dead. I can’t see another psychologist and put anyone else in danger. I don’t even think you should be involved.”

She shifted and looked directly at him even as he gave her an exasperated look. “We’ve already discussed that and I’m not changing my mind about that, Sam. Especially now.”

Letting his breath go in a ragged sigh, he pushed off the wall and said, “Why? Because you feel sorry for me? Olivia, I can take care of myself.

“I don’t doubt that, Sam.” He just stared at her with the look of annoyance on his face. “I don’t. I understand that this is risky and dangerous, but I’m not leaving you. I think you’re under surveillance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

“Because you’d had enough last night and I can’t be sure. It’s a gut feeling, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint who might be watching you. I took a lot of footage when I was following you. I just haven’t had a chance to look at it all. Whoever they are, they’re pros, slippery and elusive, very good at what they do.”

“I must be really off my game if you were following me and another set of people.” He sounded so weary. “I’ve had this prickly sensation ever since I got home. Where is this footage?”

“In my camera at my apartment. We can pick it up tomorrow when I get my things.”

He nodded. “That’s at least something.”

“We should get some sleep, Sam. We have a lot going on in the next few days.”

He nodded and they headed toward the back of the house. As she drew closer to him, she noted the compressed lines around his mouth and the tension in his body. She hated the thought that while she would sleep well, there was no guarantee that Sam would. Was that what was causing him this tension or was it her and what had happened between them in the living room? She touched his arm and he hesitated. “We’ll figure it out, Sam. We’ll work at it until we do. Try to rest if you can. We can take...everything slow.”

He turned to look at her, and a genuine smile released some of the strain on his face. “Babe, if we ever decide that we want to move forward with what happened on the couch, it won’t be slow. Believe me, it was the best part about this whole screwed-up situation we’re in.”

Unable to drag her eyes away, she stared at him, her heart fluttering, an unexpected longing clogging her chest.

The men of her past faded away. Right now there was no one but Sam. He had that certain aura about him, the stamp of unadulterated masculinity, of sexual intensity, that somehow magnified his physical strength. But it wasn’t his looks or his rugged body that made him stand out in the crowd. It was his quiet assurance in spite of his fears and doubts. He was a man very secure in his own masculinity, whose strength of character had shaped and molded his life. There were no half measures in him. He handled everything all the way.

“I can see why John was so keen on you and so adamant that you deserved the attention. And as for what happened on the couch...let me say you know what you’re doing very well in that respect.”

He leaned down and whispered softly, “You’d better get inside your room, babe, before I forget why I stopped kissing you in the first place.”

“You like giving out those orders, don’t you, Captain?”

“Hup to it and march, Olivia.”

“The more I get to know you, the more I like the man you are.”

They shared a grin before she did as she was told, not because she wanted to, but because at this moment it was prudent. Would it always be so? No, she didn’t think so. The attraction between them was volatile and she wasn’t sure whether, when it exploded, they could keep it in check.

After closing the door, she leaned against it. Sam Winston wasn’t just some client now; he was more.

She just wasn’t sure what that was exactly.