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“I work for the government, Stacy,” he explained. “I use guns for my job.”

“I’m glad you have a good job,” she returned with a child’s simplicity as she pushed her empty plate aside.

Apparently stunned, Damien leveled a curious stare on her. “What makes you think that?”

Stacy cocked her head and peered at him through piercing green eyes that appeared to unnerve him a little.

“Well,” she responded. “You’re keeping those bad guys away from us. Any job that helps people is a good job.”

Damien swung his astonished stare from Stacy to Laurie. Obviously, he had never looked at being a Navy SEAL in quite that way. Laurie struggled to contain the amusement that threatened to spill out in laughter. There was nothing like a child’s logic to put things in ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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perspective. He was shocked at anyone seeing his violent profession as a good way to help people.

His comically stunned expression almost sent Laurie into peels of laughter. But his eyes reflected his struggle to keep things simple so she refrained, barely. He looked at Stacy again, his expression softer.

“It’s not that simple,” he began and stopped. At his questioning glance, Laurie shook her head. Stacy would not understand war and did not need to at her age.

“You’re like a cop, right?” Stacy persisted, her eyes bright with curiosity and approval.

“You catch bad guys.”

Laurie grimaced at his heavy sigh, sympathizing with his attempts to simplify his work for Stacy’s sake. “Yeah, I catch bad guys.”

“I’m glad. Somebody needs to catch them,” Stacy declared emphatically.

Subduing a chuckle, Laurie rescued Damien from her daughter’s inquisitive nature before he overwhelmed her by admitting exactly what he did for a living.

“Stacy, put your plate in the sink and get ready for bed,” she suggested gently, watching Damien. He was out of his element with a precocious child. Stacy reluctantly obeyed. Seconds later, she disappeared into the loft. Laurie studied Damien across the table. He had children. Why was he uncomfortable? What had happened to his family?

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “She’s infinitely curious. When she wants to know something she asks. If she thinks something, she says it.”

“I’m a Navy SEAL, not a cop,” Damien insisted. “There’s nothing simple about it.”

“You and I know that.” Laurie eyed him intently. “As far as Stacy is concerned, you’re a hero.”

“I don’t want hero worship.” His dark eyes narrowed and he scowled. “I don’t always help people.”

“She only knows what she sees. You’re helping us. Otherwise, she’d be terrified.” Laurie paused, looked into his eyes. “What do you tell your children?”

He flinched, looked away, and then speared her with his harsh glare. “Nothing.”

“Do they know?” she persisted, clenching her hands under the table.

“Drop it,” he ordered coldly. “I’m not a hero—to anyone.”

Puzzled, trembling from his abrupt change in attitude, Laurie reluctantly abandoned the subject of his children.

“Not hero worship,” she murmured. “Stacy depends on you to keep her safe. I know it simplifies what you do, but she’s only a child. Please, don’t confuse her more than she already is.”

The tension radiating from him seemed to ease as understanding softened his expression.

“She’s handling it remarkably well.”

“I know. I’m surprised,” Laurie admitted then lowered her voice. “She trusts you, Damien.”

She watched him through the lingering silence. He looked pole axed, dazed. She let out a weary breath and closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart she had Stacy safely back home.

* * * *

The full implication of her statement hit Damien like a sucker punch to the gut. She didn’t say she trusted him, too, but it was there in the way she spoke and in her eyes. Normally he did not care what he did to accomplish a mission. He did whatever necessary, used any means ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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handy, to get the job done. But this time, staring at Laurie across the table in his mountain retreat, the deception stuck in his throat.

Will the end justify the means
, he wondered bitterly?
Is catching Crawford worth the hate
and betrayal in her eyes when it’s all over?
He scowled. Self-doubt was something Damien did not experience, not when it came to his job. He hated it now.

“What’s wrong?” Laurie’s tentative question broke into his thoughts.

He pushed his plate and his doubts aside and stood up. “I’m going outside—alone.” He snatched his jacket off the hook by the door and left the cabin.

Laurie watched him go and wondered what she had said wrong. She stared at the door for several long seconds after he had closed it loudly behind him. Confused, apprehensive, she cleaned the kitchen automatically. Her gaze strayed frequently to the windows, seeking a glimpse of him. The cabin stayed quiet, peaceful. She flipped off the kitchen light and found the book she had started reading the previous night.

She read at the kitchen table, determined to stay awake until Damien returned. But she failed to concentrate on the story. Damien invaded her thoughts. The crackling fire in the woodstove kept the cold night at bay, making the cabin cozy, even romantic, in the expectant silence. As she read, her overactive imagination turned herself and Damien into the book’s lead characters.

Lulled by the story and the atmosphere, she got sidetracked from the written words. Her own erotic fantasies, spurred by the memories of his kisses, spun through her mind. After reading the same page three times, she closed the book. Conceding defeat, she propped her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and let her thoughts wander.

Her mind stayed relentlessly on Damien. She sighed dreamily. He was gorgeous, with those dark good looks that made any woman look twice. Those dark brown eyes smoldered with barely leashed passion or glinted hard as steel. Tall, strong, muscular—another dreamy sigh escaped her. He intrigued her with a streak of controlled violence that was erotically appealing.

He could also be gentle, patient, and compassionate.

He could be harsh and uncompromising. He was danger personified tempered by a tender side she suspected he rarely displayed.

His touch shot sparks of desire through her. His kisses overloaded her senses and short-circuited her brain. Her lips tingled with the memory of his mouth on hers. Her breasts yearned for his hands, his possession. Her body ached for him, for the ecstasy she knew instinctively he would bring her. He drew her in a way no other man, even Stacy’s biological father, ever had.

She sighed yet again, aching need mingling with denial as she pondered the facts. An intense life-threatening situation, a dangerous man, and a fierce undeniable passion—those were the ingredients of a romance novel plot. Laurie frowned in consternation. A romance novel plot was not a good start for a lasting, loving relationship. Once the danger and the intensity were gone, there was nothing left. She had been dropped into the middle of one of her own stories.

She blinked and her sense of humor kicked in so she laughed aloud just as Damien strode back into the cabin. As he closed the door, she glanced up at him but laughter spilled out of her until tears filled her eyes. He arched an eyebrow and stared at her. His eyes went darker as he approached her.

Seeing alarm and concern on his face, Laurie struggled to contain her laughter. Her breath hitched and she clamped her teeth on her lower lip. Wiping her eyes, she finally subsided into an amused grin. He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down. His steady gaze never wavered from her.

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“Are you okay?” he demanded curtly.

“I’m fine,” she replied, a hint of mirth bubbling in her tone, “Now that I have seen the utter absurdity of all of this.”

A puzzled frown marred his features. “Huh?”

“Never mind. It’s a writer’s joke.” She grinned at his skeptical expression.

“Let me in on it,” he insisted.

“Okay. You’ve probably never read a romance in your life.” She paused, nodded toward the bookcase. “I can’t believe those are yours.”

Her questioning tone invited clarification. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, there was no response. Laurie frowned. Children implied a woman in the picture. She could not imagine Damien reading romances for entertainment. He wore no wedding ring but that was not a surprise in his line of work. Nor was it a guarantee that he was single. Men took off rings more easily than they put them on.

“Laurie.” Damien interrupted her thoughts, his voice low but intent.

“Oh.” She roused herself. “Anyway, this situation is straight out of a romance novel. A woman in distress, a dangerous situation, and a handsome equally dangerous man. Think about it. It’s absurd. I’ve been dropped into the middle of a typical love story, complete with mutual desire.”

Abruptly realizing what she just blurted out, Laurie clamped her mouth shut. Her face burned with the scorch of embarrassment. She had admitted too much and saw no way to take it back. It was one thing to react to him but quite another to express her feelings aloud. She dropped her gaze to the table but squirmed under his suddenly intense regard.

“So.” His husky drawl sent shivers up her spine and clear down to her toes. He covered her hand with his on the table. His thumb stroked erotic circles over her skin. Heat suffused her.

Her skin burned at his touch.

“What are we going to do about this?”

That deep baritone caressed her ears. Pleasure shimmered inside her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

Chair legs scraped the wooden floor. His finger under her chin turned her head so she faced him. Her gaze locked involuntarily with his. Desire blazed, fierce and compelling, deep in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Reality winked out as she drowned in pools of dark chocolate. For an eternity she stared, dazed and wanting, into his eyes.

“Why are you fighting it?” he demanded seductively, his lips so close to hers that his breath warmed her.

But the very question broke the spell. If he had said nothing, she would have surrendered without a thought. She blinked and yanked her hand from his. Standing, she dragged her gaze from his and moved away.

He caught her wrist, halted her beside his chair. She tugged free, inadvertently looking down at him.

“What’s

wrong?”

“I—I can’t.” Cursing the tremor in her voice, she crossed the room to the stairs, ready to bolt.

She sensed rather than heard him follow and turned around warily. Her knees went weak.

All he had to do was touch her and she would submit. In his eyes, she read knowledge and sheer male satisfaction. He knew what he did to her, what she wanted but denied herself. She lifted a hand, palm out, to ward him off.

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“Don’t, Damien. Please,” she pleaded for understanding. “I can’t do this. It would never work.”

He frowned. Speculation mingled with curiosity in his eyes. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” she lied, trembling with the effort not to jump into his arms. “I don’t want to repeat a mistake. I can’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” He snagged her hand, tugged her toward the sofa.

His touch, his intent, made her stomach lurch. Desire, carefully banked, gleamed in his eyes as he focused his complete attention on her. It was difficult but she resisted and snatched her hand from his.

“Where do you think Stacy came from?” she demanded, covering fear and confusion with tart challenge. “Did you see any sign of a man in my house—any sign there had ever been one?”

“Tell me about it.”

His quiet voice pulled at her, urged her to confide in him. She shook her head, denying her need for a friend, for comfort and compassion.

“It was a mistake,” she insisted with a calm she did not feel. “One I don’t intend to repeat with you.” Teetering on the fine edge between panic and surrender, she turned and ran up the stairs.

A few minutes later, she lay in the dark silence of the cabin loft. Even the flickering fire in the woodstove was not visible from her angle. She yearned for Damien. Her heart craved love, as it never had in all her life. But she refused to give in to mere physical desire intensified by isolation, close quarters, and imminent danger. When it was over, she and Damien would go their separate ways. She did not want more memories than she needed. She certainly did not want the kind of memories that kept her awake at night wanting something she would never have.

A frustrated groan escaped her and she rolled over, punching the pillow. Sleep eluded her. She wanted him, craved him, with a fierce need that worsened every day. Any relationship with him was temporary, a fiery but brief affair. Another groan sounded in her ears and she sat up. Still tasting his lips on hers, she gave up on slumber and tiptoed downstairs.

Moonlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a soft glow that complimented the brief flickers of firelight. Against her will, her gaze was drawn to Damien tangled in the blankets on the sofa bed. Apparently he also tossed and turned, though he remained still now.

She let out a ragged breath but could not take her eyes off him. Moonlight bathed him.

The blanket, wrapped around his waist, left his broad chest bare and Laurie breathless. His chest rose and fell slowly. Tangled between his legs, the covers exposed a muscled thigh and calf. She bit back a groan of desire and forced herself to turn away from him. How long could she resist?

Her resolve weakened every day, and every minute, they were forced together.

She stumbled back to the stairs, the glorious sight of him burned into her mind.

Squeezing her eyes shut did not banish the image.

“Where are you going?” His quiet voice sent tremors through her.

Reluctant but somehow compelled, she turned to look at him. He sat up. Her fingers itched to touch, to roam over him. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the broad, gleaming expanse of his bare chest. Her gaze met his and her heart lurched. His eyes glittered with dangerous excitement.