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Resisting Her Commander Hero
Lucy Ryder


Frankie doesn’t need a hero…But can she fight her attraction to Nate?Paramedic Frankie Bryce is finally over her crush on her late brother’s best friend, ex-Navy SEAL Nate Oliver—but then he returns to their hometown, acting as if she’s still the wild-child teenager he has to protect because he promised her brother he would! Frankie’s all woman now, and she definitely doesn’t need rescuing! The trouble is, this super-sexy hero is impossible to ignore…







Frankie doesn’t need a hero...

But can she fight her attraction to Nate?

Paramedic Frankie Bryce is finally over her crush on her late brother’s best friend, former navy SEAL Nate Oliver—but he returns to their hometown acting as if she’s still the wild child teenager he has to protect (he promised her brother he would!). Frankie’s all woman now, and definitely doesn’t need rescuing! Trouble is, this super-sexy hero is impossible to ignore...


With two beautiful daughters, LUCY RYDER has had to curb her adventurous spirit and settle down. But because she’s easily bored by routine she’s turned to writing as a creative outlet, and to romances because—‘What else is there other than chocolate?’ Characterised by friends and family as a romantic cynic, Lucy can’t write serious stuff to save her life. She loves creating characters who are funny, romantic and just a little cynical.


Also By Lucy Ryder (#uf6319a1d-8589-5d68-8c26-65007de51836)

Resisting Her Rebel HeroTamed by Her Army Doc’s TouchFalling at the Surgeon’s FeetCaught in a Storm of Passion

Rebels of Port St John’s miniseries

Rebel Doc on Her DoorstepResisting Her Commander Hero

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Resisting Her Commander Hero

Lucy Ryder






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07494-0

RESISTING HER COMMANDER HERO

© 2018 Bev Riley

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


As always, to my family.

Especially my daughters Kate and Ash.

You are, and always will be, everything to me.


Contents

Cover (#u7d063582-76a1-5e3a-9725-e101be98478e)

Back Cover Text (#u7c543507-8abc-59fa-9805-45e70488cc5c)

About the Author (#u9f98fca2-89f0-5329-b3d0-ff05e0279dcf)

Booklist (#u6beadd76-9404-58fa-9182-b3a3962874ca)

Title Page (#u5ddcd6d7-4735-5452-849c-9237e8831e95)

Copyright (#ub5431c6a-add4-5f78-8982-9ac6c583fa23)

Dedication (#u1f0827f3-5b80-553e-ac39-a8598626d0a4)

CHAPTER ONE (#u092a0330-05cd-5184-b196-62037e663670)

CHAPTER TWO (#u39f7c719-dcff-5366-bbd8-891a999f8400)

CHAPTER THREE (#u15aa548b-f852-5c6e-824e-18820a282f76)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#uf6319a1d-8589-5d68-8c26-65007de51836)

“LOWER THE BASKET!” yelled paramedic Francis Abigail Bryce into her headset over the whop-whop-whop of the helicopter hovering a hundred feet overhead. Wind and rain lashed at the ledge on which she was crouched, shielding the fallen climber.

If she slipped it was a long way down and probably wouldn’t end well. It wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned spending her Friday evening but when word had come through from the rangers’ station earlier that a climber had fallen, Frankie had been dispatched to the scene.

Further up the coast from the large seaside town of Port St. John’s on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state, heavy rains had caused a huge landslide and rescue teams were busy digging out survivors. With the storm wreaking havoc on the Juan de Fuca Strait, rescue personnel were stretched to the limit.

Frankie had returned with a few of the injured and then been the lucky candidate in the wrong place at the wrong darn time. Now, instead of providing emergency medical care at the site of the slide, she was clinging to a slick ledge only a few feet wide and a couple hundred feet from certain death because a group had thought it smart to go climbing in torrential rain.

She looked down into the guy’s youthful face and shook her head. Probably a student on spring break, she thought. EMTs were always busy this time of the year, rescuing kids from their own ambitions.

“Hang in there, handsome,” she yelled, aware that in the fifteen minutes she’d been there, he’d been slipping in and out of consciousness. She suspected a ruptured spleen and she’d already wrapped his leg in an inflatable compression cast.

Concerned about what was taking so long, Frankie looked up as a deep voice in her ear warned, “Heads up,” and the next instant a large figure dropped onto the ledge. Dressed in a red and black jumpsuit and wearing a half-face helmet with comms mouthpiece, he looked like a huge bug from an alien world.

Frankie didn’t need to see his eyes to know who it was. The hard, masculine jaw and the unsmiling line of his sensual mouth would have been a dead giveaway even if the hair on the back of her neck hadn’t stood up like a freaked-out cat.

Nathan Oliver. The man who’d been back for months without at least letting her know he was home.

What the hell was he doing here? Wasn’t he some super-secret commander of the Maritime Security Response Team or something? Unless her patient was a terrorist, or a foreign national in the country illegally—which Frankie doubted—she was pretty sure a member of the nation’s deployable operations group stationed at Port St. John’s wouldn’t normally be part of search and rescue.

Then again, maybe the landslide and current conditions in the strait had put all coasties on call, including the MSRT. And, yeah, wasn’t it just peachy that he had to be the one dropping from the sky?

Unhooking his line from the chopper, he gave a couple of hand signals to the pilot above before his safety line disappeared into the lashing rain.

With her heart in her throat, Frankie ruthlessly squelched the urge to reach out and grab him before rotor wash blew him off the ledge. Or maybe before she gave him a little shove over the edge herself.

Okay, fine, so maybe she was tempted for about a nanosecond, but even though Nathan Oliver was the last person she wanted to see, she didn’t want him to die either.

They’d meant too much to each other—once.

Besides, balanced on the rocky ledge and sure-footed and powerful as a mountain lion, Nate was more than capable of rescuing them both. He’d been a Navy SEAL before transferring to the Pacific North West unit of the US Coast Guard as Lieutenant Commander of the MSRT. Granted, the present conditions probably weren’t the worst he’d experienced, but even he couldn’t walk up sheer cliffs in this weather.

He dropped to his haunches beside her and she felt the sweep of his penetrating gaze. The resultant shiver, she told herself, was from being soaked through and freezing. It couldn’t be that he still affected her.

That ship had sailed a lifetime ago and Frankie didn’t make a habit of repeating her mistakes. Especially the very public ones that had devastated not only her pride but also her heart.

She saw his mouth form words that looked like, “You okay?”

But instead of replying, she yelled, “Where’s the basket? He’s going into shock.”

He pointed skyward and she looked up to see the rescue litter swinging wildly in the gusting wind as it descended toward them. Nate barked out an order to the chopper and the pilot edged closer to the cliff face. But instead of controlling the swing, it caused the litter to spin.

He rose to his feet in one smooth move and stretched out a long arm to snag it. Almost in slow motion, Frankie watched as it abruptly shifted in the wind. She opened her mouth to yell a warning as the medevac litter flew through the air toward him.

He saw it coming too late to get out the way and it clipped him on the side of his helmet, sending him staggering backward toward the edge.

Time slowed and stretched, narrowing into an endless tunnel of pure horror as Nate fought to regain his balance. Then his foot slipped and in that split second before he went over, his gaze caught and held hers.

In that timeless instant, all the wild conflicting emotions she’d managed to suppress for twelve long years exploded through her, blinding her to everything but him.

Everything but the need to keep him from disappearing from her life forever. And before she realized she was moving, Frankie rose and leapt for him in one desperate move.

She reacted. As she always did.

Fear gave her strength and speed and before she could even process her actions, her icy fingers closed around his harness. Her momentum sent her thudding into him and Frankie wrapped her legs around him like a vice as they shot off the ledge.

Through the frantic yelling in the comms, she heard him curse as his arms enveloped her like banded steel. Her line went slack and for one awful moment she thought they were headed for the bottom of the gorge. She sucked in a breath, tightened her grip and pressed her face into Nate’s throat, thinking stupidly that maybe it wasn’t such a bad way to go.

Wrapped around his big tough body and with his uniquely potent masculine scent filling her lungs, Frankie could think of a dozen worse places to be.

It was the closest she’d been to him in twelve years. The closest she’d been since the night of her eighteenth birthday, the night he’d completely humiliated her in front of half the town.

He’d been around forever and as well as she’d thought she’d known him, she couldn’t have known how much he’d changed or that he’d lost friends on his last mission. He’d looked the same—although bigger, harder and fitter—and acted the same as the boy she’d known her whole life. And if she’d noticed the closed-off expression in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth and jaw that night, she’d put it down to typical male arrogance and the fact that he was a member of the nation’s elite fighting force, mixing with a bunch of wild immature teenagers all because she’d begged him to come to her party.

She should have known better than to try to measure up to all the women in his life. To him she’d always just been his best friend’s kid sister; wild, reckless—always wanting to tag along.

Besides, she’d never measured up, to him or to her brother Jack. At least not in her parents’ eyes. Jack had been their golden child and Nate, popular, sporty and incredibly smart, was like their second son. They’d excelled at everything and it had been daunting, living in their shadow.

The birthday incident had been humiliating and she’d said things that filled her with guilt and shame whenever she thought about them. She’d lost him that day...and then seven years later she’d lost Jack in a mortar attack.

Her champions. Her own personal superheroes.

Frankie’s heart squeezed. And now she and Nate were heading for the bottom of the gorge and she’d never get the chance to prove that she’d—

The safety line abruptly snapped taut, halting their graceful pendulum arc into empty space; halting the wild, regretful thoughts flashing through Frankie’s mind. The next instant they were headed straight for the unforgiving rocky surface of the cliff face.

She tensed, because this was going to hurt.

Nate tried to turn, probably to take the brunt of the impact, but Frankie was attached to the safety line and the collision was hard enough to force the air from her lungs...and Nate’s big warm muscular body between her thighs.

Stars exploded behind her eyes. Whether they were from the jolt to her skull or his hard, tough body, Frankie wasn’t sure. But it was enough to rattle loose her good sense and cause some seriously inappropriate thoughts to flash through her mind, sending heat exploding through her body.

Nate Oliver was still the hottest man she’d ever known. The kind of hot that made women think inappropriate thoughts even while dangling hundreds of feet in the air by a slender nylon rope, and one wrong move away from falling to their deaths.

“Don’t look down,” he ordered. “And for God’s sake don’t let go. Not yet.”

Of course Frankie didn’t listen. Craning her neck, she looked down and then promptly wished she hadn’t when a distressed squeak escaped without permission. All she could see beneath her was a dark cold emptiness. Vertigo abruptly clamped queasy fingers around her throat and her belly churned.

“Dammit, Frankie,” Nate growled in her ear. “I said don’t look down.”

She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the boss of her but her breath was lodged in her throat and she could only gasp.

Oh, God. How mortifying. Inside, Fearless Frankie—Port St. John’s former wild child—was freaking out.

“I’m going to let you go,” Nate said calmly, and it took a couple of beats for his words to register.

When they did, she snapped, “No!” and tightened her grip on him. No way was he letting go.

“Just enough to free my hands and feet,” he explained quietly. “Then I’m going to crab-walk us to the ledge. Okay?”

She wanted to say no, but she knew it would take a little strain off the safety line and keep it from shearing off on the rocky outcroppings.

She really, really didn’t want that to happen.

She looked up at the suspended medevac litter, which was now hanging motionless a few feet to her left.

Go figure.

Gritting her teeth, she nodded jerkily, tightening her grip on Nate’s harness. Her thighs clenched around him until they ached, and all she could think was, Thank God for all those squats and lunges I’ve been doing lately.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and she wanted to snort because she was about as far from being a good girl as they were from the ground. He eased his grip until all that kept him from succumbing to the law of gravity were her arms and legs.

He murmured into his comms and then with his feet planted flat against the cliff face, he began to move them toward the ledge.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute since Frankie’s spectacular leap off the edge but her muscles had begun to shake and she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hold on.

Beneath Nate’s jumpsuit, muscles bunched and flexed, giving her a few more inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts that might have freaked her out if she hadn’t been closer to death than she liked. Frankly, in the circumstances, she figured she was allowed.

Besides, it had been so long since she’d had inappropriate thoughts of any kind that she might as well enjoy them. They were the closest she’d had to actual sex in forever.

Finally, the tension on her harness lessened and Nate straightened, big feet planted shoulder width apart.

After a couple of beats he said, “You can let go now, Francis,” the dry tone as much as his use of the hated name bringing her head up. The first thing she saw was his mouth, beautifully sculpted and much too tempting.

Tearing her gaze away, she looked up into eyes as dark and fathomless as the death they’d just escaped. Sometime in the past couple of minutes—probably while she’d been having those hot thoughts—he’d lifted his visor and the warmth in his usually unreadable gaze stunned her.

“You okay?” His mouth was barely an inch away and all it would take was one tiny move from her and—

Spooked, Frankie flashed a quick look to the left and saw they were once more on the ledge. Her patient, wrapped in a silver emergency blanket, was a few feet away, waiting for her to get her act together.

“I’m fine,” she croaked, her throat desert dry and tight with tension while adrenaline still pumped through her at their near disaster.

Eager to put a little distance between them, Frankie released the stranglehold she had on him and slid to the ground until all that connected them were her fingers still locked on his harness.

“Francis.”

She opened her mouth in a snarled protest but it gave her the impetus she needed to let him go. She might have pushed away from him if they hadn’t been perched on a narrow, slick ledge and she hadn’t just taken a decade off her life with that one daring leap.

“You good?” he asked again, ducking his head to look into her eyes. He must have been reassured because he didn’t wait for her to reply. “Help me secure the PEP so we can get off this ledge.”

Frankie shook her head even though she knew he meant the patient extrication platform. Sucking in a shaky breath to still the churning in her gut, she shoved all her messy emotions aside and got her head in the game. She had a patient who needed her undivided attention and the litter swaying gently just over their heads was waiting to airlift him to the closest trauma center.

Everything else could wait. Including her freak-out because no way was anyone witnessing that.

Within minutes, they’d transferred the student to the backboard and strapped him into the litter. Nate then reattached the hoisting strapline and with a hand signal from him, Frankie’s patient rose into the air. She watched as hands reached out to snag the litter and pull it aboard the chopper before expelling the breath she’d been holding.

Litter rescues occasionally went bad but, despite the rocky start that had almost cost Nate his life, this one had gone relatively smoothly. But she wanted to be off the ledge before something else went wrong. Before she lost the tight grip on her emotions.

She wasn’t looking forward to climbing back the way she’d come either. Her arms and legs shook, which would make the ascent a little tricky even though the rangers at the top had set up a standing body belay and would take most of her weight as she “walked” up the cliff face.

She’d wait until Nate left with the chopper before attempting the ascent for fear of completely humiliating herself any further.

Out of the darkness the hoisting strapline appeared again and Frankie let out a tiny relieved breath. Any minute now she’d be free to fall apart without an audience.

She watched Nate catch the metal connector clip and murmur something that she couldn’t quite catch. Now would be a good time for Fearless Frankie to regain control, she thought, because smartass and cocky was way better than cowering, trembling and freaked out.

She gave a cocky grin and quipped, “So long, soldier,” adding a snappy salute for good measure.

“It’s sailor, not soldier,” he growled, as he unclipped her line and gave it a quick tug.

“What are you doing?” she snapped in outrage, making a grab for it, but it was already out of reach as the rangers above reeled it in. She turned on him with a snarled “Are you insane?” but he ignored her, snapping her onto his harness capture strap. Of course, she tried to stop him but he brushed her hands aside with a quick impatient flick and hooked them both to the hoisting line.

Eyes on hers, he wrapped his arms around her and said, “Trust me.”

The words had her heart lurching as the truth landed like a punch to the solar plexus. God, she did. Didn’t want to...but did.

“No,” she lied, but he must have read the reluctant truth in her eyes because he said, “Bring us in, Boom,” and the next instant they were airborne.

Frankie swallowed as they swung away from the ledge. She didn’t like the feeling of being suspended in a sea of blackness while wind, rain and rotor wash lashed at them from every side any more than she liked being vulnerable.

To anyone...let alone this man.

She’d tried it once and he’d devastated her, stomping on her tender heart with his size thirteen tactical boots. It was the last time she’d allowed her feelings to show.

“I’ll get you for this, soldier,” she warned through clenched teeth and squeezed her eyes closed against the overwhelming pull of the man pressed intimately against her.

Gone was the cocky, handsome boy who’d treated her with all the indulgent impatience of an older sibling. In his place was a man whose powerful cocktail of tightly coiled testosterone and simmering pheromones was even more treacherously compelling.

Even the expression in his eyes was different—sometimes intense, sometimes brooding but always distantly watchful.

This Nate might look like an older, hotter and harder version of the boy she’d once loved but somewhere along the line he’d acquired a darkness that made him more than dangerous, more than lethal, to women everywhere.

Over the sound of the chopper she heard him yell, “You falling asleep there, spider girl?”

Her eyes popped open and she looked up to see the red and white fuselage looming closer. A couple of visored men watched and controlled their ascent, reminding Frankie of a movie she’d seen about alien abduction.

“No,” she muttered. “I’m pretending I’m on a beach in Hawaii.”

He must have heard because his mouth kicked up at one corner and before she could fully grasp the sudden transformation, hands were reaching for them, pulling them in. The instant she felt the capture strap release, Frankie scrambled over to where a crewman was tending her patient and wondered what she thought she was doing, because she had a feeling that getting sucked into Nate Oliver’s force field again...would be an unmitigated disaster.

Fortunately, she was too smart to let that happen. Way too smart.

Her patient’s eyes were open but he appeared dazed and disorientated. “Focus on me, handsome,” she yelled over the noise of the engine, and quickly freed his arm to set up an IV. “You hang in there, okay?”

Looking up briefly to gauge their ETA, she noticed several pairs of eyes on her and became aware of the grins.

Frowning, she looked around and caught sight of Nate’s expression and by the firm unsmiling line of his sexy mouth, he wasn’t happy. But then again—apart from that flash of wry humor—unsmiling seemed to be his default expression.

At least when it came to her.

Her belly clenched.

“What?”

“Yowza, lady,” a crewman yelled, his wide toothy grin and smooth cheeks all she could see beneath the bug helmet. “You saved Sammy in the most awesome move I ever saw. Ever think of joining the circus?”

Sammy? she thought with a frown. Who the heck is Sammy?

Thinking maybe they were talking about her patient, Frankie drawled, “I’m allergic to rings,” laughing when she was rewarded with confused looks. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

No way was she explaining that one. She’d decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for her and guys seemed to think all a woman wanted was a wedding ring and a white picket fence.

Determinedly pushing aside unpleasant thoughts, Frankie willed the chopper to move faster through the air. The sooner they arrived at the hospital, the sooner her patient could be rushed into surgery. And she really needed to escape this inexorable pull Nathan appeared to still have on her double-X chromosome.


CHAPTER TWO (#uf6319a1d-8589-5d68-8c26-65007de51836)

HOURS LATER FRANKIE dragged her weary feet through the ambulance bay doors into ER. The adrenaline had long since faded and she was feeling every strained muscle and ache as though she’d been through a marathon workout session.

Fortunately, the mud slide hadn’t been as extensive as everyone had feared and most people had managed to escape the worst of it. Those that hadn’t had already been admitted or treated and released.

It had probably been the longest shift of her career. Her jumpsuit clung wetly to her skin and her boots squelched with every step. There was also something wrong with her back that she could no longer ignore. She’d check it herself but one of her superpowers wasn’t the ability to make her arms bend the wrong way or her head swivel like an evil toy in a horror movie.

Fortunately, the ER was quiet after the earlier rush and she found the person she was looking for in the staff lounge, stuffing her face with one donut while searching through the bakery box for another.

Paige Carlyle looked as exhausted as Frankie felt. At the sound of the door opening, the petite doctor looked up guiltily—cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s—as though she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“Those things will kill you,” Frankie announced, snagging the full to-go mug off the counter. She swallowed a large mouthful and grimaced. “And so will this.”

“Hey,” Paige objected around a mouthful of pastry, and snatched the cup away, cradling it protectively against her chest. “It’s hot, delicious and I need the sugar.”

“No, you don’t. You need some veggie juice and a nice long soak in a hot tub.”

Paige made a face at the mention of veggie juice. “Yuk, I’m not drinking pond scum,” she declared, gleefully washing down her donut with hot chocolate and making sounds that were a little too disturbing in Frankie’s opinion. Paige reluctantly closed the bakery box and slumped against the counter. “But a long hot soak sounds like heaven. My feet hurt and I haven’t been home in so long Ty’s probably forgotten what I look like.”

“Stop whining. It’s unattractive,” Frankie said with an accusing frown. “And so are your constant reminders that you have a sexy hunk waiting for you with home-cooked meals and daily massages.”

Paige’s mouth curved in a secretive smile and she made another sound that ratcheted Frankie’s irritation level a couple of notches. “You sound jealous,” Paige observed mildly. “Like you want a sexy hunk at home too.”

Frankie snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, I do know another unattached sexy hunk you might be interested in,” the doctor said craftily.

“Your brother? The air force top gun?” Frankie gave a dramatic sigh. “He’s hot and I just love a man in uniform.”

Paige gagged. “Yuk. No. I was talking about someone in another sector of the armed forces. Say...the Coast Guard?”

“Not interested,” Frankie said promptly. “And I can handle my own love life, thanks.” Or lack thereof, she reminded herself dryly. “You just concentrate on Terrible Ty.”

Tyler Reese had been Nate and Jack’s best friend until the summer they’d turned eighteen. Something had happened that had landed the three friends in a lot of trouble and it had been the last time Ty had been in Port St. John’s—except for Jack’s funeral—until an injury had threatened to end his surgical career. He’d returned to recuperate and had run into Paige on his first night.

Or rather into Paige’s flashlight, which had clearly knocked some sense into him because he’d left his life and big city career to move north.

Paige cleared her throat and stared at Frankie expectantly. “Is there something you need to tell me, Ms. Bryce?” she asked with excruciating politeness.

Frankie frowned at her friend’s tone. “No,” she said warily, and when the doctor just narrowed her eyes, she shrugged and couldn’t stop the sharply indrawn breath at the movement.

Paige must have seen something in her expression because she demanded, “What did you do?”

Of course Frankie answered with an affronted “Nothing,” hoping Paige would drop it because the doctor looked like she needed a break as much as Frankie did. She’d just go home, have a hot shower and fall into bed. She could deal with everything after about twelve hours of shut-eye.

Paige scoffed. “Tell me before I call Ty.” She paused and her gaze turned crafty. “Or better yet, maybe I’ll call a big bad coastie. He can hold you down while I examine you.” Knowing exactly who Paige was talking about, Frankie narrowed her eyes dangerously but her expression clearly didn’t intimidate the medical center’s newest specialist.

“Let’s go,” Paige said, tossing her to-go cup in the trash before moving toward the door, turning impatiently when Frankie didn’t move. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“An ER physician?”

Paige rolled her eyes because everyone knew that though she was a qualified pediatrician, she was still paying off her state-granted tuition by working in ER. “Your smart mouth doesn’t intimidate me, Ms. Bryce,” she drawled. “Room Four. Stat,” she ordered, before disappearing through the door.

Frankie closed her eyes, her boots rooted to the spot. It wasn’t that she was being deliberately difficult. She was just too tired to move. Oh, yeah, and every breath reminded her of her flying trapeze stunt. Moving required skills she’d temporarily misplaced.

A second later the door opened again and Paige stuck her head inside, scowling when she saw that Frankie hadn’t moved. She narrowed her gaze and gave her cellphone a peremptory waggle. “Now,” she snapped.

Frankie frowned. “Does Ty know how annoying you are?”

“Of course he does,” she announced cheerfully. “It’s one of the things he loves about me.”

Frankie rolled her eyes because Paige was right. Ty did love her. His feelings for the pint-sized Attila the Hun were so obvious that it made Frankie just a little bit jealous.

She wanted someone to look at her like that.

Sighing, because now she was feeling sorry for herself, she followed Paige down the passage into an empty ER room.

“Okay,” the doctor said with her hands on her hips. “What hurts?”

Finding levity in the situation, Frankie snorted and reached for the zipper tab on her jumpsuit. “Maybe you should ask what doesn’t hurt...and go from there?” Maybe she should have gone home before she tried this because there was no way she was going to be able to dress again without bawling like a baby.

Paige pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and studied her. “Lemme guess. You acted rashly during that mountain rescue and you’ve hurt your back.”

“What mountain rescue? How do you know it’s my back?” Frankie demanded irritably. “And I’m never rash—at least, not any more—and not unless I need chocolate. Then all bets are off.”

Paige arched her brow. “It’s the way you’re holding yourself.” She leveled a mildly irritated yet softly understanding look that made Frankie squirm. “And I know you hate being a burden because you harbor what you think is a super-secret need to make amends for your past, Frankie. So you were wild and rebellious.” She shrugged impatiently. “Big deal. We all do dumb stuff when we’re kids.”

Frankie spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. I bet you—”

But Paige interrupted with, “You’re an excellent paramedic—the most advanced one on the coast, actually—but maybe you should think about saving yourself.”

“What does that mean?” Frankie demanded with a scowl.

“It means no woman is an island. It means that you should accept help once in a while. Now would be good...while we’re both still standing.” Paige huffed out a laugh when Frankie rolled her eyes. She reached out to peel the jumpsuit off Frankie’s shoulders and had barely got it halfway down her arms before sucking in a sharp breath.

“Ooh, that’s nasty.”

“What?” Frankie demanded, craning her neck at the tone in Paige’s voice. “What?”

“You really should have had this seen to ages ago,” Paige scolded, and gently pulled Frankie’s wet undershirt away from her back. Frankie must have made a sound because Paige cursed. “Did this happen before or after your Fearless Frankie stunt?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, since everyone else knows about it,” Paige groused. “And how come I have to hear via the grapevine that you made a superhero save, anyway? I thought best friends told each other everything?”

Not everything...because there were some things a person didn’t share. With anyone. Especially things that made Frankie cringe with shame whenever she thought about them.

Paige huffed and eased Frankie’s bloodied tank top over her head, leaving her in a black sports bra, jumpsuit pooled at her waist. She made a sound of exasperation at what she’d uncovered. “I know we joke about it but, Frankie, really, taking a flying leap off a ledge? What the heck were you thinking?”

Wincing as Paige gently probed a particularly tender spot, Frankie demanded, “Who told you about that?”

“So it’s true?”

She sighed irritably. “It’s complicated... Ouch. That hurts.”

“Not as much as it’s going to,” Paige said shortly. “But seriously? It’s like you have a death wish or something.” Frankie opened her mouth to object but Paige beat her to it with a snapped-out “I’m busy here.” But after a couple of beats she said almost absently, “There’s bruising, a couple of lacerations and some bad grazing. What really happened?”

Frankie gave a negligent shrug. “I got caught between a rock and a hard place.” Paige sighed and began cleaning Frankie’s injuries. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” Frankie said.

At the same time a deep voice drawled from the door, “Yes, Francis, let’s hear all about it.”

She closed her eyes wearily and thought, Not now. Not ever. Or at least not while she was feeling exhausted and raw and couldn’t think of a snappy comeback.

She’d hoped to avoid the lecture she knew was coming but she should have known he would eventually hunt her down. He’d hunted terrorists for a living, for God’s sake. What had made her think she could continue to evade him?

She’d only managed to avoid him since the night of her eighteenth birthday because he’d wanted it that way. She’d wanted it too, she reminded herself, mostly to forget that the boy she’d idolized had called her a selfish willful brat who didn’t think about how her actions affected others. He’d also called her reckless and told her to grow up.

Then he’d left town. Getting as far away from her as possible.

Well, she was cool with that. Really cool, she thought fiercely. She just wished he’d stayed away.

Turning, she eyed him with what she hoped was cool disinterest, ignoring the fact that even after the long night, he looked bigger, badder and hotter than ever.

While she looked like a complete mess.

Go figure.

“This is a medical examination room,” she said flatly. “Only medics allowed.”

One dark brow rose in silent challenge. “Want to call Security, Francis?” he drawled with a hint of amusement that did nothing but raise her blood pressure. And not in a good way.

“No,” she snapped, because he had awesome SEAL skills no security team could match. “I don’t want any witnesses when I use a scalpel.” Her unspoken, on you, hung in the air between them.

It had genuine amusement lighting his eyes and curling his mouth in a smile that had her gritting her teeth in aggravation. Arrogant BAB, she snarled inwardly, using the acronym she and Paige had thought of one night when they’d been a little tipsy. But “badass boy” fitted Nate like a pair of snug boxer briefs. Except seeing him now, it was clear he was no longer a boy.

“You thinking of taking me on, Francis?” he drawled smoothly, his gaze hot and intense one moment, dark and unreadable the next. The lightning-fast changes left her confused and more than a little irritated.

“You think I can’t?” she challenged, furious with the shiver crawling up her spine that had nothing to do with Paige using alcohol swabs on her scrapes and cuts.

Besides, taking him on while she was tired and hurting wouldn’t be smart. Not to her pride and certainly not to her heart.

She glared at him. Why couldn’t he take his sexy self off and leave her alone?

“You can try.” He smirked with typical male arrogance that had Frankie barely restraining herself from snarling.

Casually propping his shoulder against the door frame as though he had every right to be there, Nate locked his dark brooding eyes on his hapless target—her—his sensual mouth an uncompromising and disapproving line. All humor had gone.

Frankie shivered. Yeesh. She’d forgotten that about him, about his ability to focus so intently on a person they felt like the most important person in the world. Like they were under a microscope.

She turned away to stare at a wall chart without seeing a thing. But her body, the traitor, was locked like a tractor beam on him. And then...and then her nipples tightened and tingles spread across her skin like a heat rash that she blamed on the fact that she was cold and wet.

“Excuse me, Doctor,” she drawled, ignoring the hunk in the doorway. “But isn’t there a rule that says only family members are allowed in an ER room?”

Paige sent Nate a quick look and muttered something that sounded like, “Don’t pull me into whatever is between you two.”

Frankie felt guilty for about two seconds. She didn’t want to involve Paige but she wasn’t above using her friend as a buffer either. Especially when it came to Commander Cool.

“There isn’t anything to get between,” she said smoothly, ignoring Nate and mentally celebrating the complete disinterest in her tone.

“Frankie.” Paige protested her rudeness, but Frankie ignored the rebuke, watching Nate out of the corners of her eyes while pretending to ignore him too. For long moments he studied her until she was ready to start squirming.

Finally, with a casual roll of his shoulder, he pushed away from the door frame.

“It’s all right, Doc. I’ll go.” A big hand landed palm flat against the door in preparation of pushing it open. He paused and with a hard look at Frankie said to Paige, “For you.”

Meaning he’d never do it for Frankie. The notion stung, and before she could stop it, hurt sliced through her. Quickly squelching it with the full force of her will, she reminded herself that getting her feelings hurt by Nate’s attitude would not only be stupid but self-defeating. Besides, she was over her silly adolescent infatuation and the last thing she needed or wanted was someone with a hero complex.

She turned and locked gazes with him just as he pushed open the door. His mouth twisted with faint irony and the next instant he was gone.

Heavy silence descended on the room but Frankie could literally feel her friend vibrating with questions and maybe a bit of exasperation. She slid a sidelong look at her and caught Paige chewing on her lip. She could practically see the wheels spinning away in the brunette’s head and counted the seconds until the other woman cracked.

She reached nine.

“Seriously, Frankie?” Paige finally burst out. “You blew him off? Are you sick, dumb or just insane? And what the heck is going on between you two anyway?” she continued, without waiting for a reply.

“Nothing.” Frankie sighed, tension draining abruptly and leaving her beyond exhausted. “Nothing I want to talk about anyway. But I am confused about why everyone keeps referring to Nathan as Sammy.”

Paige was silent for a couple of beats as she studied Frankie. She must have decided not to probe because all she said was, “It’s his coastie handle.”

“Handle?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “His nickname, his moniker.”

“I know what a handle is, Dr. Cutie,” Frankie said, because she knew that moniker irritated Paige. Besides, why should she be the only frustrated person in the room? “I’m just not sure I understand this one.”

Paige shrugged and swabbed a particularly tender spot that had Frankie sucking in a sharp breath.

“I’m guessing it might have something to do with him transferring from the SEALs.” She sprayed her back with iodine. “Lie down, will you? I need to put in a few stitches.”

Frankie’s gut clenched. “Can’t you just glue them or something?”

“No. I can’t.”

“But—”

“I know you, Francis,” Paige briskly interrupted when Frankie opened her mouth to argue. “The first thing you’re going to do when you get home is ignore doctor’s orders and shower. Next thing you know you’re back here with an infection. Besides, I’ll make sure they’re small and won’t leave any scars.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Okay, so maybe Paige did know her. “Fine.” She lay facedown on the bed and propped her chin on her stacked hands. At some point she must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Paige was tapping her arm.

“All done, sleeping beauty,” she said cheerfully, “and before you object, I’ve booked you off for a few days. Now go home and get some sleep. No picking up heavy objects or taking flying leaps off ledges. And absolutely no physical activity or you’ll undo all my hard work.”

Frankie sat up with a yawn and twisted to see Paige’s handiwork but her back was a patchwork of waterproof dressings. She tentatively rolled her shoulders to test her flexibility and was pleasantly surprised to discover that, though it pulled a little, it didn’t hurt.

“While you were snoring, I gave you a shot of pain meds and antibiotics,” Paige said, clearing up the mystery. “You should be good till the morning.”

“Which is in about an hour,” Frankie said, sliding off the bed and blinking blearily at her wristwatch. “How long was I out?”

“About twenty minutes.” Paige helped Frankie pull her jumpsuit up her arms and over her shoulders. “I’d let you sleep but Andrews is in charge tonight.”

Frankie brushed her hands away.

“I can dress myself, Mom, thanks.”

Paige backed off with a snicker and picked up a clipboard. She scribbled something then looked up. “Are your tet shots up to date?” Frankie grunted out a reply that the doctor must have understood because she tore a sheet off a pad and held it out. “I’ve prescribed antibiotics and pain meds. Get them. With all that bruising, you’re going to be sore in the morning.”

Frankie mustered a snappy salute. “Thanks, Doc,” she said, and with a quick hug headed stiffly for the door. “You’re the best.”

“Yes, I am.” Paige chuckled. “Just be sure to put that in the patient survey on your way out.”

Frankie stopped abruptly at the door when she remembered their earlier visitor. She wouldn’t put it past Nate to hang around and ambush her while she was spaced out on pain meds and couldn’t defend herself.

“What’s wrong?” Paige asked, alarmed. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”

Shaking her head, she quickly stepped aside and nudged Paige into the doorway. “Tell me what you see. Go on,” she urged when her friend looked at her like she was a crazy person on the verge of a meltdown.

When she made a get-on-with-it gesture, Paige gave a dramatic eye-roll and stuck her head out, looking around with dramatic furtiveness. “What am I looking for?” she whispered loudly, clearly enjoying the cloak-and-dagger moment.

Frankie growled and pulled her back into the room. “Any...um...thing that doesn’t belong in the ER?”

Paige’s eyes widened and sparkled with enjoyment. “You mean like a...a seal?”

“No.” Of course a SEAL. She huffed out an exasperated laugh, both at herself and Paige.

“Well, no sign of seals or any other wildlife,” Paige said with a quick head-shake.

“Okay, good. Because I’m not in the mood to fend off any marine mammals or any other wildlife.”

She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Nate, especially not in his disapproving big-brother role.

No wait, she amended. Not in any role. She just wanted to go home, shower for about an hour and then fall into bed and sleep for a week.

“Thanks, Paige, I owe you,” she said quietly, and walked stiffly from the room.

“Yes, you do, Francis Abigail,” Paige said, popping her head into the passage. “And I plan to collect...in the form of an explanation. About sea mammals.”

“Sure,” Frankie said agreeably. “I know a lot about whales and dolphins.” She smirked when Paige sighed loudly, but no way was she sharing her humiliation at the hands of Nathan Oliver. She’d never told a living soul about what had really happened that night and had no intention of discussing it now.

Or ever. Even with her best friend.


CHAPTER THREE (#uf6319a1d-8589-5d68-8c26-65007de51836)

LIEUTENANT COMMANDER NATHAN OLIVER leaned against the wall in the dark and drank from a disposable cup. He hadn’t wanted the sweet, black coffee but it was warming his hands and keeping him awake while he waited for the one woman on the face of the planet with the ability to drive him completely nuts.

Nate hunched into his wet-weather Coast Guard jacket and blinked his gritty eyes. He was cold, wet and exhausted after a thirty-hour shift and wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with Frankie. But it needed to be done before her stupid recklessness got her killed. Besides, being cold, wet and exhausted was nothing compared to what he’d survived in the teams. Nothing compared to what could have happened up in the mountains.

But last night wasn’t what he wanted to think about; he got icy chills just recalling the expression of horror on Frankie’s face as she’d risen to her feet and launched herself at him in that split second before he’d gone over.

From experience, he knew the memory would be replaying in an endless loop for weeks, if not months, to come. His belly cramped into a tight ball and he felt a dull pain in his chest—right next to his heart. Massaging the ache, he reminded himself that he wasn’t having a coronary.

It was probably just indigestion from having to drink hospital coffee.

And since it was her fault he was drinking the swill, he added it to her already lengthy list of transgressions. Transgressions that included keeping him from his warm bed, acting without thinking and...and being all grown up and too damn beautiful for her own good.

Okay, and maybe for his good too, but no way would he ever admit that out loud...or go there. Not with her. Not after he’d promised Jack that he’d look out for his wild and willful kid sister if anything happened to him. Only Frankie was no longer a kid; something he’d been forcibly reminded of when he’d walked into that ER room.

Nate sucked in a breath at the memory of her sitting there, her back a patchwork of bruises, scrapes and lacerations. Injuries she’d sustained when she’d gone all Queen of the Jungle and saved his ass.

In that moment he’d wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her but the sight of her had hit him like a bullet to the chest. Gone was the wild skinny tomboy...in her place was a tall, stunning beauty with lush curves in all the right places.

Frankie was all grown up.

But the last thing he wanted to notice was...that. Besides, she’d been like a sister to him. And then there was the blood oath he and Jack had made the day they’d left to join the armed forces.

He was going to honor that promise, preferably from afar, but right now he needed to make her see that her actions had been reckless, thoughtless and dangerous.

He’d had every intention of doing it last night but they’d been surrounded by people and she’d been playing “evade and escape” since touching down on the hospital helipad. It was a game they’d been playing since his return to Port St. John’s. A game he was beginning to tire of.

Granted, after that first week when he’d surprised Frankie chatting with his mother and sister in their kitchen, he’d deliberately kept his distance, needing to deal with being back in Port St. John’s and his new MSRT commission. He’d also had his hands full, helping his mother cope after a climbing accident had left his sister, Terri, a paraplegic.

He’d never admit it, but he’d also been having nightmares about the last SEAL mission that had taken the lives of several teammates. Bleeding from his own injuries, he’d tried to rescue his fallen buddies but he’d been pinned down. Waiting for air support, all Nate had been able to think about had been the wild grief in Frankie’s eyes at Jack’s funeral and wondering if she would grieve for him if he was killed in action.

The wild jumble of emotions had terrified him and he’d done what any man did when dealing with stuff he didn’t know how to handle. He’d shoved everything deep and stayed away. Partly because she would have prodded and poked until he’d told her all his dark secrets and revealed his pain and feelings of failure. But mostly because, well...he didn’t trust himself around her because she drew him in as no other woman did.

His mother swore Frankie had changed since her wild adolescence days but Nate wasn’t so sure. That crazy stunt was exactly what the wild child would have done in the past. And damn the consequences.

His jaw clenched when he imagined what those consequences would have been if she hadn’t been hooked to a lifeline. She would have plummeted to her death with him.

What kind of reckless fool did that?

But even as the thought occurred, he knew. It was the kind that put someone else’s life ahead of their own. The fiercely loyal kind that had your back; no questions asked—no matter what. The kind he’d known only in his best friends Jack and Ty, and then his buddies in the teams.

Yet, without hesitation, she’d dived off a slippery ledge to save him. In spite of everything he’d done to push her away.

Scowling down at the rapidly cooling contents of his cup, Nate wondered if he was punishing Frankie for all his confusing emotions. A prickle of warning tightened the back of his skull and his head came up just as the very woman he’d been thinking about sauntered through the automatic doors. Francis Abigail Bryce. His best buddy’s sister. The wild, exuberant girl he’d watched over for too many years while growing up—and had spent a further twelve trying to forget.

Sucking in a slow deliberate breath, Nate pushed away from the wall and willed his body to relax, his mind to calm. It was a trick he’d learned in the teams. A trick that helped him focus only on the mission ahead while ignoring everything else.

Dealing with Frankie was guaranteed to be as dangerous, as unpredictable and explosive as any of the classified missions he’d survived.

Without taking his eyes off her artfully messy red-gold hair, he threw the rest of his coffee into the bushes and tossed the cup in the nearest trash bin.

He was about to head after her when the door burst open and a young medic ran out, only to stop abruptly when she saw him. “Nate,” Paige said breathlessly. “Th-thank God.”

Despite his impatience, Nate paused and eyed his best friend’s fiancée. “Problem, Doc?”

“Yes,” she huffed worriedly, craning her neck and squinting into the darkness. “She shouldn’t be driving. I was just about to go wrestle her into my car so she didn’t have to drive home but I’m on duty.”

“What I wouldn’t give to see that?” he drawled, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, Paige. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure, Nate? Because Frankie is—”

“I’m sure, Doc,” he interrupted gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll get our girl home safely.” And with his hands shoved into his pockets, he took off into the darkness, not about to admit that he still thought of her that way.

Our girl.

How many times had he, Jack and Ty said the same thing? What’s our girl up to now? Surely our girl wouldn’t be so reckless as to dive off Devil’s Point into the sea?

He caught up with Frankie in the far corner of the car park where she’d parked her battered SUV. He’d trawled the parking earlier and deliberately found a space a couple of cars down from her vehicle so she couldn’t sneak off.

He knew the instant she became aware she was being followed when her stride faltered, so imperceptibly he would have missed it if he hadn’t been a trained observer. Or watching her long shapely legs.

She stiffened and, without turning, said, “Go home, soldier.” As though she knew who it was before he could announce himself.

“We need to talk,” he said, ignoring her continued use of the “soldier” moniker. She was determined to annoy him and Nate was just as determined not to be riled. He’d decided to pick his fights where Frankie was concerned and this one wasn’t worth getting into. Not now anyway. He was too tired and had other more important issues to address.

Like was she really okay and...what the heck had she been thinking on the mountain?

Clenching his jaw against the impulse to yell at her, Nate growled when she stopped at her SUV and dug around in her shoulder bag for her keys. So much for calming his mind, he thought with frustration.

Without looking at him, she asked, “About what?”

“Let’s start with you making a target of yourself in a dark parking lot, and ending with driving after being medicated on top of a long shift.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted, causing his jaw to harden. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Besides, all my shifts are long.”

“All the more reason to be careful after taking meds,” he snapped, reaching out to snag her shoulder bag. She tried to snatch it back but the move had her sucking in a sharp breath. She abruptly swayed and in the light from the nearby security light he watched her face drain of color.

Cursing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her roughly against him. The feel of her body, warm and soft against his, had him sucking in his own sharp breath. Putting his hands on her hadn’t been part of his plan.

But this pale and terrifyingly fragile woman tugged at something buried so deep he’d forgotten it was there. Something he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“C’mon,” he muttered wearily. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I can get myself home, Commander Big Shot,” she announced, but her bold statement was ruined when it emerged all slurred and weary. It must have annoyed her because she planted her palms against his chest and shoved. “I’m fine,” she grunted, when her efforts failed to move him. “Especially as I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now, thank you very much.”

“That’s Lieutenant Commander Big Shot,” he corrected mildly, allowing her some space but snagging her arm when she tried to stomp off in the opposite direction. He tugged her toward his brand-new four-by-four. “And it’s not you I’m worried about, wild thing. It’s the other poor saps on the road. Your driving is enough to scare even the most seasoned speedster.”

“Hey,” she protested, stumbling into a parked car before he could steer her out of the way. “I’m an excellent driver. You should know. You and Jack taught me.”

At the mention of Jack, they both seemed to freeze because the last time he’d tried to talk to her about her brother, she’d kind of freaked out. He’d wanted to tell her how much Jack had meant to him—of the promise he’d made to look out for her—but Frankie hadn’t wanted to listen. She clearly didn’t want to talk now either because her expressive face abruptly closed down.

It had been more than five years and Nate still missed Jack, especially being back in Port St. John’s.

Injecting as much normality and humor into his tone as he could, he said, “That’s why I know you suck. Maybe you should get a siren installed.” He pulled her upright and was relieved when she allowed him to steer her to the driver’s side. “That way people will know to get out of your way. Besides, I’m surprised that piece of junk you drive hasn’t fallen apart.”

“Hey,” she objected again, this time more strongly. “Just because it doesn’t fit your lofty idea of perfection it doesn’t mean it’s ready for the scrap heap, Mr. Everything-is-Better-Newer-and-Shinier. It’s just like you to be—”

She stopped abruptly when she realized she wasn’t at the passenger side. After a couple of blinks, a slow smile tugged at her full lips and she flashed an upward gaze. For the first time he realized that her smile was wonky and her eyes were a little glazed.

Great. She was as high as a kite.

“You’re letting me drive?”

His snort was enough to bring back her scowl. “You’re no fun,” she accused sulkily, and in the abrupt silence that followed he heard her suck in a sharp breath.

It was the same accusation she’d flung at him the night of her eighteenth birthday. The night she’d pretended to drown in the surf when she’d been an excellent swimmer. The night he’d lost his temper when he’d realized she’d done it to get his attention.

It was also the night he’d realized that a grown-up Frankie—with all the curves of blossoming womanhood—was more dangerous to his mind and body than a whole mountainside of terrorists with their crosshairs on his center mass.

“Get in, Francis,” he murmured dryly, disengaging the locks and opening the door. “I drive.”

“You’re still bossy and annoying,” she muttered beneath her breath as she gingerly climbed into the cab. “And if I wasn’t so tired, I’d tell you that you’re not the boss of me.”

His lips twisted wryly. “Of course you would. Get in, woman, before my patience runs out and I toss you into the harbor.”

She uttered a soft snort and lurched over the gearshift, giving him an eyeful of her curvy bottom. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t because, in spite of everything, a grown-up Frankie would tempt a saint.

“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered grumpily, and Nate’s amusement faded. None of this was funny, least of all the sight of her pale, exhausted face. Knowing he was partly to blame made his chest ache.

He pulled himself into the cab and shoved the key in the ignition, studying her out the corner of his eye.

“You okay?”

Her soft snort was accompanied with a dry “Peachy,” drawing a long-suffering sigh from Nate. The skinny girl with wild red hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose and a wide contagious smile had turned into a stunning woman.

But the joyful sparkle in her clear green eyes had been replaced by shadows and secrets. Secrets she was keeping from him.

Nate shook his head at himself and started the engine. He shoved the gearstick into reverse and with quick economical moves backed out of the parking and headed for the exit.

At this time of the night it was a quiet drive across town to the little bungalow she called home and he waited until he turned into her driveway before saying, “You ready to talk, Red?”

Out the corner of his eye he saw her go still and it took him a couple of seconds to realize the old nickname he’d given her when she was ten had slipped out without thinking. Maybe it had been the mention of Jack, as though they were still all young, and alive...and together.

Her lush mouth firmed and she turned to face him, gaze unreadable when she’d always been an open book. To him at least.

“About what? I thought we’d settled the issue of me driving in a drug-induced state when I allowed you to shanghai me?”

“It’s about your reckless behavior.”

“Reckless? Hardly,” she snorted, gathering up her shoulder bag and reaching for the door handle. “I was just going to drive home, for God’s sake. Not take a joyride through town and along the coast. Besides, I surrendered to your bossy manhandling, didn’t I?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Francis,” he said wearily. “I’m talking about what you did on the mountain.”

“I don’t know what your problem is,” she half snarled, lurching upright in her seat as though preparing for a fight. “It’s not like I was the one without a safety line. You were,” she pointed out shortly. “I’m not the one who thinks she’s a big, bad indestructible SEAL too cool to die.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I’m not indestructible. What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she tossed over her shoulder as she reached again for the door handle and shoved the door open. “Maybe this insatiable need you have to be a damn hero.”

She hopped out before he could answer and slammed the door with way more force than necessary before stomping her way up the garden path.

Muttering curses, Nate got out and followed, wondering what he thought he was doing. This was exactly why he needed to keep his distance, because five minutes in her company and he was ready to howl with frustration.

Taking the stairs three at a time, he moved beneath the light to where she was digging in her shoulder bag for her keys. Without looking up, she snarled irritably, “Go away. I’m not in the mood for any of your annoying lectures.”

Controlling himself with difficulty, he said mildly, “Humor me,” and folded his arms across his chest. Propped against the wall, he studied her pale face in the glow of the overhead porch light. “You owe me that at least.”

“Excuse me? I owe you?” She gaped up at him for a couple of beats before a scoffing laugh escaped. “I think you have that backward, Commander Big Shot,” she drawled. “The way I remember it, bub,” she said, poking his abs with a hard finger, “you were on your way over that cliff when I saved you.”

He grabbed her hand before she could drill a hole in his chest, tightening his grip when she tried to snatch it back. Her growl of frustration had his brow arching with amusement.

“Exactly,” he said with masculine superiority, knowing it would get a reaction out of her. Besides, why should he be the only one with escalating blood pressure? “You seem to forget how well I know you, Francis,” he said quietly. “That daring leap off the ledge was impulsive. You never gave a thought to that safety line and you know it.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Nathan,” she snapped, and pulled free. “You just think you do. You left here when I was a girl to go off to prove what a big badass you were. What’s more reckless than that? Besides, I’m not that adoring little kid you once knew, and even if what you say is true—and it’s not,” she snapped, jabbing the air with her keys, “you’re lucky I did make that leap, or you’d be whipping poor soldier angels into shape instead of standing here now, annoying me.”

It wasn’t in the least bit amusing. He sighed. “Frankie—”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice hitched. “I wasn’t thinking.” She was quiet a moment before adding, “I meant you’d be stomping around in hell with your size thirteen boots, trying to save lost souls. Isn’t that what you always do, Lieutenant Commander? Save lost souls?” She drew in a deep breath as though that brief flash of fire had exhausted her. “I’m not a lost soul,” she said flatly, shoving a shaky hand through her hair as she leaned back against the door to study him through drooping lids. “I never was. Only you could never see that.”

“Have you forgotten I how many times I saved your skin over the years?” he demanded tersely, recalling how they’d all—he, Jack and Ty—tried to make up for Frankie’s parents’ disinterest in their daughter, only to have her run circles around them.

She closed her eyes and wearily pushed herself upright, ramming her elbow into his gut when she turned to shove the key into the lock. “I don’t need saving, Nate,” she muttered. “I can save myself. And even if I did need a savior, it wouldn’t be you.”

Her words burrowed beneath his skin. “I get that,” he growled furiously, because that’s what she had wanted once. “But what you did last night was reckless.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, stud,” she dismissed coolly, pushing the door open before pausing with one foot inside. “I would have done it for anyone. You’re just mad because I beat you to it. Mad that the badass Navy SEAL got rescued by a girl.”

“Don’t make this about me, Frankie,” Nate said irritably, ignoring her accusation because what she’d said was ridiculous. Besides, he was the trained professional. It was his job to save people.

“Why not?” she shot back heatedly. “It’s not like I was alone on that ledge. It’s not like I was just going to—” She stopped abruptly and sucked in a sharp breath, turning away.

“It’s not like you were just going to what, Frankie?” Nate demanded. “Use your head? Think before you acted? Because that’s your usual MO, isn’t it? Wade into the fray and damn the consequences?”

The look she sent over her shoulder was filled with hurt and fury. “You know what? Never mind. You brought me home. Thanks.” She turned away as though she couldn’t bear the sight of him. “You can leave. You’re good at that.”

He caught her arm. “Excuse me?”

She tried to yank her arm free but he tightened his grip, not wanting her to disappear inside where she’d no doubt continue to ignore him. “If I have to tell you,” she drawled smartly, “you’re not half as smart as I thought you were.”

“And you, babe?” he growled. “How smart are you?”

She froze, her fiery green eyes turning arctic as she glared up at him. “Tell me you did not just call me ‘babe’.” Her mouth curled in distaste. “Take it back and I might consider letting you live.”

It was such a Frankie thing to say that Nate couldn’t help the low laugh that escaped him. It was clearly the wrong thing to do because she sucked in a furious breath and punched him.

She tried to punch him again but Nate was expecting it and reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, wrapping his hand around her much smaller fist and yanking her against him.

Dark satisfaction filled him when a shocked squeak emerged from between her parted lips. “You only get one shot, babe,” he warned silkily, staring into eyes gone dark with surprise.

* * *

Infuriated by his warning, by the name he’d used on her when it was what he called all his other women, his laughter—heck, all of the above—Frankie stared up into his hard, handsome face, and with her free hand punched him again. Harder.

Her fist practically bounced off his steel-hard abs and before she could growl her frustration he’d backed her against the wall, both wrists imprisoned in his inescapable grip. She ignored the slight discomfort in her back, furious with the easy way he pinned her hands beside her head.

Her startled protest was interrupted by a low, rough curse that ended on, “You just had to, didn’t you?” And then he did something that shocked her even more. He swooped in and slammed his mouth down on hers.

Frankie went utterly still, shock reverberating through her. To be perfectly honest, she’d been hoping to get a reaction from him, but she’d never expected him to...to... Oh, boy.

The next instant she thought, How dare he kiss me? and tried to bite him, but he broke the kiss, his breathing furious and choppy in the predawn silence. As though he was restraining himself from throttling her. With a great deal of effort.

Yeah, well, she was restraining herself too. From melting into a puddle at his feet. But there was no way she would ever admit it. Even on threat of dismemberment.

“You little hellion,” he rasped against her lips, and roughly took her mouth again. This time the kiss lasted longer than those first furious seconds and, completely against her will, Frankie found herself kissing him back. Tentatively at first and then... Wow.

The man certainly knew his way around a woman’s mouth. Knew exactly how to use his lips to drive her crazy with hard punishing kisses one minute and soft deep caresses the next.

He was warm and solid against her, radiating heat and the kind of strength she needed to keep her knees from wobbling and dumping her at his feet. Was, in fact, keeping her upright with his big hard body.

Someone moaned—she was pretty sure it was her—the sound so breathy and needy she might have cringed if she’d had the capacity to do anything more than respond, feel and...oh, God...make another muffled sound in the back of her throat. Every thought, every protest was stripped away—along with her resistance.




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