Hot Combat. Elle James
Читать онлайн книгу.
forming in her throat.
The Navy SEAL, with his broad shoulders and rugged good looks, eased the brush through Lolly’s hair with a gentleness no one would expect from a man conditioned for combat.
Once outside, Charlie stood for a moment on the porch, reminding herself how to breathe. What was happening? She didn’t know which was worse, being threatened by a potential domestic terrorist, or facing the man she’d fallen so deeply in love with all those years ago. Her life couldn’t be more of a mess.
An insistent pressure on her ankles brought her out of her own overwhelming thoughts and back to a hungry cat, purring at her feet.
“Sorry, Shadow. I keep forgetting that I’m not the only one in this world.” She set the bowl on the porch, straightened and was about to turn when she saw movement in the brush near the edge of the tree line behind her house.
Narrowing her eyes, she stared into the shadows. Sometimes deer and coyotes made their way into her backyard. An occasional black bear wandered into town, causing a little excitement among residents. Nothing emerged and nothing stirred. Yet awareness rippled across her skin, raising gooseflesh.
Charlie rubbed her hands over her arms, the chill she felt having nothing to do with the temperature of the mountain air. She retreated behind the screen door where she stood just out of view from an outside observer. A minute passed, then another.
A rabbit hopped out of the shadows and sniffed the air, then bent to nibble on the clover.
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Charlie turned toward the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rabbit dart across the yard, away from the underbrush of the tree line.
Charlie shook off that creepy feeling and told herself not to be paranoid. Just because someone threatened her on the internet didn’t mean someone would follow through on his threat.
She closed the back door and twisted the dead bolt. It didn’t hurt to be careful. Walking back into the kitchen, she couldn’t help feeling safer with Jon there. He had Lolly’s hair brushed and braided into two matching plaits.
Her daughter leaned against Jon’s knee, showing him her favorite doll.
Jon glanced up, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Oh, yeah. He was angry.
Charlie didn’t doubt in the least he’d have a few choice words for her when Lolly wasn’t in the room. And he had every right to be mad. He’d missed the first six years of his daughter’s life.
Glad she had a bit of respite from a much-deserved verbal flogging, Charlie rescued a waffle from burning, poured batter into the iron and mixed up more in order to make enough for a grown man. Flavorful scents filled the air as the waffles rose.
Milking the excuse of giving her full attention to the production of the waffles, Charlie kept her back to Lolly and Jon. Yes, she was avoiding looking at Jon, afraid he’d see in her gaze that she wasn’t totally over him. Afraid he’d aim that accusing glance at her and she’d feel even worse than she already did about not telling him.
“Here. Let me.” A hand curled around hers and removed the fork from her fingers. “You’re burning the waffles.”
Charlie couldn’t move—couldn’t breathe. Jon stood so close he almost touched her. If she backed even a fraction of a step, her body would press against his.
God, she could smell that all too familiar scent that belonged to Jon, and only Jon—that outdoorsy, fresh mountain scent. She closed her eyes and swayed, bumping her back into his chest.
With his empty hand, he gripped her elbow, steadying her. Then he reached around her with the fork, opened the waffle iron and lifted out a perfect waffle. “Plates?” he said.
His mouth was so close to her ear, she could feel the warmth of his breath, causing uncontrollable shivers to skitter across her body.
Plates. Oh, yeah. She reached up to her right and started to pluck two plates from a cabinet. Then she remembered there were three of them now. After setting the plates on the counter, she turned away from the stove, desperate to put distance between her and Jon. Her body was on fire, her senses on alert for even the slightest of touches.
“Come on, Lolly, let’s set the table while Mr. Caspar cooks.” She grabbed the plates and started around Jon.
He shifted, blocking her path. “We will talk.”
She stared at his chest, refusing to make eye contact. “Of course.”
He stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
Charlie wanted to run from the room, but she knew she couldn’t. Her daughter was a very observant child. She’d already figured out something wasn’t right between her and Jon. Besides, running away would solve nothing.
Lolly gathered flatware from the drawer beside the sink.
Charlie set the plates on the table and went back to the cabinets for glasses. While she filled them with orange juice, she took the opportunity to study Jon while his back was to her.
The Navy SEALs had shaped him into even more of a man than he’d been before. His body was a finely honed weapon, his bulging muscles rippling with every movement. He’d been in great shape when he’d come home on leave seven years ago, but he was somehow more rugged, with a few new tattoos and scars on his exposed surfaces.
Charlie yearned to go to him, slip her arms around his waist and lean her cheek against his back like she had those weeks they’d been together. She longed to explore the new scars and tattoos, running her fingers across every inch of him.
He slipped waffles onto a platter and turned toward her, catching her gaze before she could look away.
Charlie froze, her eyes widening. Shoot, he’d caught her staring. Could he see the longing in her eyes?
She dragged her gaze away and darted for the stove and the pan of blueberry syrup simmering on the back burner. Her hand trembled as she poured the hot syrup into a small pitcher.
“Careful, you might get burned.” Jon took the pan from her and set it on the stove.
You’re telling me? She’d been burned by him before. She had no intention of falling for him again. Her life was hectic enough as a single parent trying to make a living in a small town.
She hurried away from Jon and set the syrup in front of her daughter.
Lolly pointed to the end of the table. “Mr. Caspar, you can sit there.” She climbed into her chair and waited for the adults to take their seats.
Charlie felt like she and Jon were two predatory cats circling the kill. She eased into her chair, her knees bent, ready to launch if things got too intense.
Jon frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want your mother to sit here?”
Lolly shook her head. “She always sits across from me so we can talk.”
Jon glanced at Charlie.
Charlie gave half of a smile. “That’s the way we roll.”
“Before we got our house, we sat on the couch to eat,” Lolly offered.
“How long have you been in your house?” Jon asked.
“We moved in on my birthday.” Lolly grinned. “I had my first birthday party here.”
“What a special way to celebrate.” Jon reached for the syrup and poured it over his stack of waffles. “Where did you live before?”
Charlie tensed.
Lolly shrugged. “Somewhere else.” Her face brightened. “Did you know mommies go to school, too?”
Jon smiled. “Is that so?”
Lolly nodded. “Mommy went to school.”
His brows hiked as he glanced toward Charlie.
Heat