His Stubborn Lover (7 page)

Brock finished debriefing Slade by phone, but Slade insisted on catching a fast flight to Jawhara. “We damn near screwed up and that means I need to talk to Kamal in person.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Brock said and hung up. If it hadn’t been for Keira’s idea, they’d still be tearing the palace apart, looking for Erin. He wasn’t sure what had given her the idea to lay in wait for Maela—or why she might be a part of it. Maybe just that gut instinct he was trying to encourage in her. But it had worked.

By afternoon, everyone had finished yelling, the sheikh’s temper had been softened by his wife’s urging him to moderate action, and Maela was back in control of the palace and running everything with perfect efficiency and a bland face that gave away none of her thoughts. Brock wondered if Slade was going to try to recruit her—she was one hell of a lady, but her kind of blind loyalty was also a little scary.

Heading out to the garden, Brock found Slade enjoying his tea on the terrace. “Nice day,” Brock said. He sat down in the chair opposite Slade.

Slade nodded. He had the look of a man who could be anything from thirty to fifty. He’d exchanged his usual suit for a T-shirt and jeans, but the boots on his feet said he’d been ready to arrive here and take action. Brock resisted the urge to fidget.

Slade sipped his tea. “Any day you see the sun rise and you’re not bleeding is good. I spoke with Kamal. He still has worries. With so much upheaval in the neighboring country, and political pressure coming from many different directions, his security teams have been pulling double duty for most of the last two weeks. I’d like you to think about staying on. Talib and PJ—I’d like to give them a chance for a real honeymoon, and they can’t have that if they’re hip deep in security issues.”

Brock nodded. “When’s PJ tying the knot?”

“Talib agreed to postpone their wedding for a short time, but I think he’s got some idea of carrying PJ off on camel back to the desert.”

Brock grinned. “PJ’s going to love that. Camels and sand. I give them two days at most before they’re back in the best hotel in Jawhara.”

“PJ might make it three—she does love the guy. What do you think of Keira?”

Putting his stare on the gardeners, who were trimming trees that didn’t need much trimming, Brock thought over his answer. One wrong word from him and Keira would be stuck on a desk job, doing research or some other support role. She might hate it, but she’d be safe. But maybe that was part of the problem.

Maela had wanted Erin and her baby to be safe—she was willing to stuff Erin into a secure room just to get to that end, and it didn’t matter if Erin liked it or not. That could be part of the problem—getting pushed to the background wasn’t fun for anyone. It’d been hell on Brock for him to let Keira take the lead last night, but it had also given him a new appreciation for being the one who had to do the watching and waiting. No wonder Tayra had left him.

“Well?” Slade asked. Brock could feel Slade focus on him—it was an uncanny feeling, like being pinned to a wall.

“Well, what?” Brock demanded. No sense in being shy around Slade.

“Are you staying in Jawhara? I think Keira should stay as well. She seems to have made a connection to Maela that could prove invaluable. Of course, this will mean I’m down several team members, so I’ll have to go hunting for replacements.”

Brock grinned. “You know I’m irreplaceable.”

“Which is why Kamal wants you here.” He stood. “I also have some things to attend to stateside. Private business.”

Frowning now, Brock stood as well. “You need help?”

“If there’s something that needs it, I’ll fill you in at that time. But I can take care of business my own way. I’d rather have you here. Jewel Oil needs better security at the drilling sites—here and in California. But I may send Trent and Travis to look after the California rigs.”

“Surfer cover—they’d be perfect. I’ll let you know if I hear from anyone looking for work.”

Slade nodded, shook Brock’s hand. “Just make sure they’re clean. You know how I hate surprises.”

Brock walked Slade to the courtyard and to his car—a Tesla he had waiting for him. He watched Slade drive away and thought about the offer to stay in Jawhara—no leaving, Keira staying with him. Would she go for it? He knew only one way to find out.

Heading inside, he found her in her bathroom, just finishing a shower. He slipped up behind her and covered her eyes with one hand. “Guess who?”

She turned around, a Turkish towel wrapped around her. “Uh…Santa Claus?”

“Close enough.” He took her hand and pulled her with him to the bed. Pulling her against him, he kissed the very breath from her. She dropped her towel, but he stepped back and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” She stepped back and crossed her arms. “You’ve had second thoughts? We’re done, so we’re done?”

He grabbed her hand, kissed her palms. “Will you stop jumping the gun? Dammit, I’m trying to tell you something.”

She grabbed his collar. “Tell me in bed. After.” Pulling him with her, she stepped back and fell onto the bed. He had no choice but to go with her or lose his shirt.

He had no problem with either of those things. He lost his shirt anyway. She stripped it off of him. He stood up to strip off his shoes, pants, and socks.

Keira propped herself on an elbow. “Why do guys always take off their socks last?”

“It’s so we can get our shoes on fast and run if we need to. Now where was I?”

“I think you left off kissing my right breast.”

“Better start with the left one, then.” He lowered himself onto her and lost himself in her scent, her warmth, and her kisses. Slipping into her felt like coming home; he gave himself up to her—to loving her.

He spent his time stroking her skin, touching her, making her shiver. He loved how her eyes darkened, her pupils blowing wide. He put his lips on her, licked her, and nibbled on her—he couldn’t get enough. She pushed him onto his back and rode him hard, until his breath came in gasps and his skin was slick with sweat.

Pulling her off of him, he put her on her knees, came in from behind, pushed deep. She gave a groan and he put a hand on her back. Her ass tucked up against him and he could see a small butterfly tattooed on one cheek. He gave her ass a slap. She wiggled and begged for another. He put two more red marks on her—marking her as his. Letting her know he was never letting her go. He slapped again and she came with a shout, her hips bucking. He held onto her, pushing deep, pounding hard.

“God, yes,” she said, and gave another moan. Pulling out of her, he pushed her down on the bed, held her wrists trapped over her head. He fit his mouth to one nipple and sucked hard. She groaned and spread her legs wider. He pushed into her with one sharp thrust. She was so tight, so wet. Slowing the speed, he pulled out and pushed in slow, until she was writhing under him, twisting, her skin gleaming and hot.

Three orgasms later—two more of them hers, one of them his—he rolled off of her and pulled her close. “You are one greedy girl.”

She nodded and walked her fingers over his chest. “Better believe it, sailor.”

He grinned. “That first night when I rescued you, I knew you were special. You weren’t just  a damsel in distress…you were made for me.”

She sat up and leaned over him, her hair brushing his chest. “What’s all this, Brock?”

“How would you like to stay here in Jawhara?  With me? Slade says the sheikh wants to keep us on to keep security high.”

She stared at him—she didn’t even blink. The breath caught in his chest. What if this was something she didn’t want? What if this had just been a fling for her. What if she wanted the travel and the excitement of the next job? Well, dammit, if she did, he’d just have to change her mind.

He caught her face between both his hands. “You make me happy, Keira. I thought I could soldier my way through not wanting you. But I do—bad enough to put everything on the line for you. I figure I won’t leave you behind, and you don’t leave me behind, and maybe we can make that work. We’re too good a team not to make this work.”

She started to shake her head. Brock rolled with her so she lay under him. He trapped her with his arms. “I was going to wait to do this, but forget that. Marry me. Have kids with me.”

“Kids?” Keira asked, the word pushed out with a shocked breath. Her face paled.

“Yeah, I figure we should give the royal prince or princess some rug rats that can grow up as total bodyguards for them. What do you say? And please, say something to put me out of the misery of waiting.”

A slow smiled curved her lips. “Well…I always did say I could get used to this place. Except…who’s running this operation?”

Brock kissed her, let the kiss linger so he could taste her mouth and lick her lips. “Flip you for it?”

“Uh, let’s get back to the team idea.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “So, no play acting that we’re a married couple?”

“Hell, no. I want the world to know you belong to me.”

Keira wiggled. “Anyone gets a glimpse of my red ass, they’re going to know it. I’m not sure I can get used to the idea of you being a family man. But I’d sure like to try.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“Oh, yeah it means yes—but only if I get to do the spankings sometimes.”

Brock was proven right—PJ lasted two days in the desert before she convinced Talib to fly to Hawaii for a real honeymoon. Brock saw them off at the airport and came back to find Keira at the palace, waiting for him. Well, waiting and working—she was giving the guards new training on catching intruders by running simulations. They’d been more than embarrassed that she’d slipped through their ranks.

He watched her put them through catching two intruders, then three. She gave them some tips, and some praise, and Brock watched their chests swell. Coming over to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’ve got them ready to die for you.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather have them sharper.” She glanced at him. “Sorry you weren’t on that plane for some new exotic location? Some new job?”

He shook his head. “No. You?”

Keira leaned into his embrace. “Think we could grab a day off and do some sightseeing?”

Brock leaned down and whispered in her ear what he’d like to do. He smiled when she blushed. “Don’t like that idea?” he asked. “That beach is totally secluded—perfect skinny dipping spot. We can be back by dinner, but I think Maela can hold the fort for us. Hell, she may even pack us a picnic.”

With a grin, Keira slipped out of his arms. “I’ll go ask her. You get the car. And hurry up!”

He gave her a salute. “Yes, boss. Whatever you say.” He grinned. A settled life in Jawhara was going to be different from anything he’d ever known, but in this case, different was good. Very, very good. Because Keira was making that difference a wonderful thing in his life.

END OF BOOK ONE

Book two, His Secret Child, out 8th October, 2015. Read a
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Slade pulled up in front of the address Bethany had given him and turned off the engine. It sat there, pinging, warmth drifting in from the open window, a light breeze scented with pine. Oregon was dry this year. Brown pine needles littered a fenced front yard, almost covering the dry grass. Colored toys lay strewn around like a hurricane had left them.

Bethany’s children must still be young.
And Tayra’s ill and having to deal with little kids?
He shook his head. His sarcasm meter was pegged, but he’d better put a lid on that. No sense making things worse.

The house stood back from the main street, off of a winding road. It looked rustic—logs and a green metal roof. An orange Volkswagen that had seen better days stood in the driveway. There wasn’t any garage. Bright flowers of some kind in boxes off of the front porch danced in the light breeze. The front door opened and the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time stepped out. The screen door banged shut behind her.

Bethany had the kind of beauty that would age well. High cheekbones, sharp jaw line, wide hips on an otherwise slender frame. She had the look of someone weathered—like teak that had aged, the edges all a little softened, the color blurred. Her shoulders slumped a little and Slade wondered if he shouldn’t have made it a higher priority to get here faster.

He’d had to spend four days in San Diego before he could get up here—business had demanded his time with a tangle only he could smooth. He’d worried the whole time. Bethany—Tayra’s sister—hadn’t sounded good on the phone when he’d spoken to her. She hadn’t sounded as if it was urgent, but she had sounded troubled. Now, he was wondering what the little something was that Tayra had forgotten to mention in her ‘Dear John’ letter that she’d written all those years ago to Brock.

Slade didn’t know the full details, but Tayra was ill. He knew that from what Bethany had said. Seems Tayra had been sick for a long time and fighting. Bethany had said Slade needed to come to Oregon. Well, he was here. Now what?

Bethany stood on the porch, shading her eyes with one hand. She was dressed in black, but the skirt and shirt looked old, a little browned on the edges. She had on black pumps and her brown hair curled around her face, tugged by the breeze. Behind her, a young boy came out of the house in a black suit and white shirt. His narrow tie looked crooked. He slipped his hand into Bethany’s and she helped him down the three steps to the sidewalk. Slade watched them, frowning. That boy had something wrong with his legs. A surge of compassion for the kid tugged at him.

He got out of his car and headed toward Bethany. She looked like she’d been crying, her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks splotchy. He caught a faint hint of her perfume-lilacs, something as delicate and heart-stopping as she was. Slate halted in the shade of a large pine, his face damp with sweat. The boy looked up at him, watching with his head tipped and his eyes bright.

He looks like Tayra! He even has her eyes!

Tayra’s eyes had been as unique as the woman herself. They’d changed color with her moods. Tick her off and icy gray slipped in. When she was happy, the color shifted to almost a moss green.

Slade glanced at Bethany. Her expression hadn’t changed from wooden, but he was stunned at the grief he saw in her eyes. He was here—but too late. At least too late to see Tayra. He knew that now.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. What else could he say? But something needed to be done to help Bethany weather this storm of life.

She leveled her gaze at him and told him, her voice cold, “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that, Slade?”

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