Kitabı oku: «Breathless Descent»
“Better if they think we don’t like each other, Shay, than believe we want to…be together.”
Shay poked Caleb’s chest, her body barely a hairsbreadth from his.
“You know what else isn’t working, Caleb? You pretending that dumb ten-year-old kiss didn’t happen, and then looking at me like you want to kiss me again.”
He reached down, took her hand in his, every nerve ending in his body aware of her. “I’m not trying to upset you, Shay.”
“Too late,” she declared. “Sometimes I just think…maybe…we’re like the apple to Adam and Eve. It was just an apple, but the forbidden nature of it made it tantalizing. Maybe if we kiss again, we’ll find that we’d blown that first kiss into something bigger and better than it really was. Then we’ll be able to move on.”
She thought that kiss—the one that had kept him fantasizing for years—wasn’t as good as they remembered? He must be insane because the idea wasn’t half-bad. He wanted the kiss to be nothing. He wanted the torment of wanting the forbidden to be gone. Then again, a part of him didn’t want it gone at all.
It simply wanted her….
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the Texas Hotzone, where three ex-members of the Crazy Aces Special Forces team have opened a skydiving operation right outside of my hometown of Austin, Texas.
Breathless Descent is the final installment in the Texas Hotzone trilogy, and my hope is that the ending does indeed leave you feeling breathless and romantic. This is a story of forbidden love, much like Romeo and Juliet, but thankfully, with a happy ending. There is just something so enticing and seductive about the forbidden, and about a love so strong that nothing can hold it back.
I’ve so enjoyed writing Bobby’s, Ryan’s and Caleb’s stories. I hope you will remember the Hotzone with as much pleasure as I do.
Best wishes,
Lisa Renee Jones
Breathless Descent
Lisa Renee Jones
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa spends her days writing the dreams playing in her head. Before becoming a writer, Lisa lived the life of a corporate executive, often taking the red-eye flight out of town and flying home for the excitement of a Little League baseball game. Visit Lisa at www.lisareneejones.com.
Special thanks to Casey, Rob, and Ethan Maxwell
for helping with my military research.
Janice, once again, for proofing
and proofing and proofing again while living the deadlines
with me. And Diego—for driving the U-Haul
from NY to Colorado so I could write this trilogy.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Prologue
CALEB MARTIN LEANED against the Fresco Club bar, watching as Shay White celebrated being old enough as of today to dance the night away at the over-eighteen hot spot. Trying his best not to notice the way her red, silky dress accented her tiny waist and each sultry move of her slender but curvy hips. Oh, yeah, he thought, watching her dance with some guy from her school, it hugged those hips and her heart-shaped backside in a far too seductive way. And when said “boy” slid his hand to her waist and sidled up close to her, Caleb tightened his hand on the beer he held until he thought he heard glass crack.
“Should I go take care of that, or do you want to?” asked Kent White, Shay’s big brother and Caleb’s best friend since grade school. The fast pop tune changed to a slow, sultry tune, and the boy’s hand slipped to Shay’s backside.
Kent set his beer down so hard it splattered. “Oh, hell, no.” He charged toward the dance floor, and silently, Caleb cheered him onward, watching as Shay flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and shoved her hands onto her hips to square off with Kent.
Caleb had wanted that hand off Shay’s butt and now it was, thankfully—and if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t brotherly protectiveness fueling that desire when it should have been. After all, the Whites had taken Caleb in six years before, and treated him like family after he’d lost both his parents in close progression at the ripe young age of fifteen. He felt like family, too. Heck, in a family filled with fair hair and eyes, he even looked like family with his sandy brown hair and light green eyes.
But for the past two years, since about the time Shay had turned sixteen, she’d been flirting with him. Even back then, he’d been smart enough to know nineteen was too old for a sixteen year old, regardless of the fact that she was like a sister to him. And so, Caleb had quickly, and frequently, discouraged her advances.
Tonight though, her teasing looks and purposeful smiles, when combined with that dress—that sexy-as-hell dress—had the man in him standing at attention. Had him wondering what she would taste like, what she would feel like in his arms.
As if she sensed what Caleb was thinking, her gaze whipped to him, and he felt that gaze like a punch right in the groin. Oh, yeah, he would have been a fool to believe he was going to resist Shay when she joined him at the University of Texas next month, and one thing Caleb Martin was not—was a fool. Thus why he’d made a long-debated decision official. He was leaving in a week. And not to head back to campus. She just didn’t know it yet. She was the only one who didn’t know. He’d sworn the family to secrecy until after she’d celebrated her birthday. He’d just found out his enlistment orders and he didn’t want anything to ruin her party, or the bond he had with her or the family. And the temptation that was Shay White was a one-way ticket in that direction and he knew it. He had to say goodbye.
Emotion welled in his chest, and he tore his gaze from hers. With a scrub of his face, Caleb sat his beer down and headed to the bathroom. Tomorrow he became a soldier, exactly like his pops, who’d died a hero saving another soldier’s life. It was the right decision for Caleb, one that had called to him for a good while, and he was finally answering.
It was several minutes later, when he exited the bathroom into the tiny hall, his cowboy boots scraping the wooden floor, that he found Shay waiting for him.
“The Army?” Shay demanded, waiting for him in the narrow hallway. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Thanks, Kent,” he mumbled under his breath. “I was going to tell you, Shay. Just not on your birthday, and Kent knew that.”
“Don’t,” she said, and flung herself into his arms, all soft and warm and emotional. “Don’t leave.” Her chin tilted upward, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t bear the idea of something happening to you.”
More of that damnable emotion welled in his chest. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” he promised.
“Like nothing happened to your father?” she said. “No. I won’t let you go. I…” She pushed to her toes and pressed her lips to his.
Caleb froze for an instant, but then that emotion, that deep burn he’d had for her, rose to the surface. She was right. His father had died in war. Hell, his mother had died of a heart attack. He could die, too. Once he left, he might well never come back, and he wasn’t going to die with any regrets. And never kissing her would be a regret.
He slid his hands into her hair, slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her—deeply, sensually, hungrily, reveling in the innocent sweep of her tongue against his. He moaned with the taste of her. Then reveled in the echoed, soft moan that escaped her lips, in the sway of her body into his.
Laughter permeated the passion threatening him, then voices. Caleb quickly ended the kiss and settled her away from him. Guilt twisted in his gut. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”
“I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m not sorry.”
Kent rounded the corner, ending any further conversation, wiping away the moment, but not the kiss. The kiss had not only happened, it had changed everything for Caleb and Shay. A kiss worthy of sending a man off to the Army, maybe to war, and a kiss to justify why leaving was the right decision.
1
“IS HE COMING?”
“Is who coming?”
Shay set down the knife that she was using to touch up the icing on her parents’ fortieth anniversary cake and glared at her older brother, Kent. “You know who.”
“Caleb,” he said, and reached for a strawberry from the bowl next to the cake.
Shay smacked his hand. “Don’t eat the food before the guests arrive, and who else would I be talking about? Of course—Caleb.” Just his name twisted her in knots.
“So is he?”
Kent snatched a strawberry and bit down. “Yes, he’s going to be here. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary. They’re his parents, too.”
“He’s been home for a few months,” Shay said, “and I’ve yet to see him. That’s why.” And because she’d kissed him. Ten years ago, on her eighteenth birthday, and they’d hardly seen each other since. “He came home all of a handful of times in a decade.”
Kent snorted. “What did you expect? He was in the Special Forces. Some elite unit that he can’t even talk about. And you might not have seen him since he’s been home, but I have.”
“Because you went to that skydiving business of his and jumped out of a plane.” A sales rep for a high-end sporting goods company, her brother didn’t get his sun-kissed, athletic good looks by accident. He was all about sports, the more extreme, the better. “You went to him, Kent. He didn’t come to you.”
“He’s trying to get his business rolling,” he said. “Cut him some slack. There’s nothing more to this. Don’t read into it. Ever since you opened that fancy psychology practice of yours, you’re always reading too much into things.”
“I just don’t want Mom and Dad to be disappointed,” she said. “Today is special.”
“He’ll be here,” her brother reassured her. The doorbell rang. “That must be the caterers.” He glanced at his watch. “And not a minute too soon. We don’t need thirty hungry people roaming around our backyard. It might get dangerous.” He started to turn away and seemed to think twice. He leaned on the counter. “Stop fretting. He’ll be here. And Mom and Dad will have a great day.”
She forced an accepting nod she didn’t feel. Kent continued to study her with a keen look until the doorbell rang again. Then, with a scrub of his jaw, he departed. She knew he could tell something more was going on with her than simple worry over her parents’ party—she’d seen it in his eyes—and there would be questions later she didn’t intend to answer.
Shay shoved her long blond hair behind her ears and crossed her arms in front of the modest swimsuit cover-up. Her mother had volunteered her to put her college lifeguard skills to work today with the many kids attending the party. Caleb had been a lifeguard, too, she thought, unable to escape memories of his role in her past. She squeezed her eyes shut at the vivid image of him in red lifeguard trunks, bare-chested, with a sprinkling of hair over perfectly defined pecs. His light brown hair streaked with blond from the sun. Green eyes glistening with amber flecks. And the lifeguard whistle. The man made that whistle so darn sexy, as silly as it might seem. How many times had she silently vowed to one day blow that whistle?
She shook herself, appalled at how ridiculously capable of recalling his “whistle” she was, despite a full decade since he’d donned said red trunks. Or how easily she remembered the moment she’d pressed her lips to his, how firm and smooth and wonderful they’d been. And the way he’d let out a soft moan that had told her he’d hungered for the kiss as much as she had, even if he’d never have claimed it himself. It had been her turn to moan when his hand had slid to her back and molded her close.
And then, true to form, Kent had shown up. Caleb had bolted so fast you would have thought he’d been struck by lightning. He’d told her the kiss had been a mistake and left.
The next week, after an awkward family farewell, at least for the two of them, he’d been gone. The few times Caleb had made it home in those ten years, the tension between them, the attraction, had been uncomfortably evident. And now that he was home to stay, he was avoiding her. That meant avoiding her family, their family.
She straightened, realizing what she had to do. She couldn’t let this continue. My God, she was a therapist. She helped people deal with the fastballs of life and reveled in being good at it. She had to deal with her own issues. She and Caleb had to talk, to get whatever was between them out in the open, instead of hiding from it. The damage was done.
She reached for the knife to finish the icing and then pressed her hands to her parents’ green marble counter. Who was she kidding? Talking wasn’t going to solve anything. Talking wasn’t going to dissolve the combustible sexual tension between them. It seemed to Shay there was only one answer. Something drastic. Another kiss. Something she would never have considered if the circumstances hadn’t become so strained. Okay, the fantasy about the red trunks helped. But they both needed to know once and for all what was between them. Her plan: she was going to kiss Caleb again, and it was quite possible she wouldn’t even enjoy the kiss. Wouldn’t that be a relief?
THE HOTTEST WOMAN he’d ever seen in his life was poised on the diving board, in a red-and-white, polka-dot bikini. She was also his best friend’s twenty-eight-year-old “baby” sister. And considering said best friend was standing next to him, Caleb Martin tried not to drool. It wasn’t easy. Shay White had been winding him into a tight ball of lusty need for as long as he could remember.
In fact, if not for the way Shay had rattled his cage, and the secret—albeit ancient—history the two of them shared, Caleb might not have followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Army. Shay had been the ink on the dotted line, the final nudge.
Caleb watched as she bounced on the board, as if intentionally drawing him under a spell where nothing else mattered. There was only the moment, and her on the diving board and in a bikini that, while certainly appropriate for her parents’ backyard anniversary party, showed enough skin to entice his imagination to fill in the blanks.
Another graceful bounce and her long, lithe body curved into a delicate arch. Caleb’s hungry eyes followed every last glimpse of skin, from fingertips to her shoulder-length blond hair, down to those gorgeous, fantasy-inspiring legs and all the way to her toes, as she slipped into the blue depths of her parents’ pool. His heart thundered in his chest. Shay damn near made the water boil. She damn sure made his blood boil. The woman was hotter than the late-July, Austin, Texas, sun beaming through clusters of smoky clouds.
“Always liked to be the center of attention, didn’t she?”
Caleb blinked, bringing Shay’s brother, Kent, back into focus, along with the twenty-five or so guests mingling in various poolside areas.
“Yes,” Caleb agreed, turning the iced bottle of beer cooling his hand to his lips and savoring the much-needed chill as liquid slid down his throat. “Shay was always the center of attention.” And Kent had no idea how true that statement really was for him.
“Caleb!” The warm, friendly voice of Sharon White spun Caleb on his heels and into her hug.
“Happy anniversary, Sharon,” he said. “Forty is something to be proud of.”
“Thank you, son,” she said, still hugging him, holding on to him, before leaning back to give him a thorough inspection. “And now that we’ve both retired from our teaching jobs, we plan to enjoy ourselves a bit.”
“You deserve it,” he said, thinking of how dedicated they both had been to their high school students. He’d been fifteen, Kent’s best friend, and one of Sharon’s students, when his mother—who’d been struggling to raise him alone—had died of a heart attack. Years before, Caleb’s father had been lost in a military operation overseas.
A familiar scent brought back memories of those years, of when Sharon had become his second mom. “Do you smell like sugar cookies?” he asked. “Or am I having flashbacks of you baking on the weekends?”
“You were always begging me to bake sugar cookies,” Sharon said, smiling. “Which is exactly why I baked a batch and hid them in the pantry for you. I have to do something to get you to come around to see me.” She pursed her lips at him, her sleek silver hair coiled at her neck. “You’ve been out of the Army two full months, and I’ve seen you two times if you count today. Shame on you, Caleb Martin. That’s once a month.”
Caleb hung his head, shamed indeed. “I’m sorry,” he said, regretting that his fear of running into Shay had made him avoid both Sharon and her husband, Bob. Sharon, in particular. The woman had been his rock—seen him through some secret tears and a struggle for identity. He added, “You absolutely will see me more often.”
The delicate lines around Sharon’s too-keen light blue eyes crinkled in scrutiny. In a motherly gesture, she stretched her arm and touched his light brown hair, then his jaw, her brows dipping. “You look tired.” She let out a breath, and concern kicked into a parental lecture. “You and those friends of yours are working too much. I know you want to get that skydiving business of yours off the ground, but you can’t go jumping out of planes with no rest.”
Caleb figured she didn’t want to hear that as recently as two months earlier, sleep had been a luxury, and skydiving into the bowels of hell in some dangerous country was the norm. Instead he promised, “I’m careful. But I have to work hard and get the Hotzone making a profit if I plan to stay a civilian.” And he did plan to stay a civilian, a vow—silent or not—he would never have thought possible a year before.
“Plan to stay a civilian,” came a soft, silky voice from behind him.
Shay.
“Well,” she continued, “you haven’t bothered to come see me since you got back into town—two months ago.”
Tension rippled through Caleb’s body in tidal-wave proportions, pulling him under with such force he would have sworn he was drowning in those brief seconds before he turned.
Caleb brought her into focus. Shay—gorgeous, petite, feisty little Shay, with one towel wrapped around her slender figure, tucked under her arms. With a smaller towel, she dried her light blond hair spun with the color of snow-streaked wheat that accented equally light blue eyes brimming with mischief and challenge.
“Now, Shay,” Sharon scolded, “don’t be giving Caleb a hard time.” Sharon chuckled and elbowed Caleb. “Better yet. Please. Feel free. Does my heart good to see you three kids together, stirring up harmless trouble.”
Kids? Kent and Caleb were thirty-one. Shay was a mere three years younger. Hardly kids. And any jest between Shay and him was hardly harmless.
“Both you women need to behave.” The playful reprimand came compliments of Bob White as he joined them, proudly sporting khaki shorts and a T-shirt that read Forty is the New Thirty. With his blond hair now silvery gray, he remained tall and athletic—an older, wiser version of his son.
“Cut Caleb some slack,” Bob ordered. “He’s been getting a business started.” He kissed Sharon’s cheek and then raised a hand to Caleb. “Come ’ere, boy! Give the ol’ man a hug.”
Another bear hug ensued—in a manly kind of way, of course—before Shay asked, “Where’s my hug?”
Caleb’s gut clenched, thinking of how she felt in his arms…as she had the night of her eighteenth birthday. The night everything had changed. The night he’d forgotten himself and kissed her. And if not for an interruption, he might have done a whole lot more. No. No “might.” He would have. His attraction to Shay was that strong, an attraction that only seemed to age like fine wine—get richer and more irresistible. It was a hard lesson he’d learned on the few visits home that he’d dared while enlisted.
She was in front of him now, driving him insane with her nearness. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll get you wet?” she taunted softly, her gaze sliding over his jeans and T-shirt, a contrast to everyone else’s swim trunks, shorts and various summer attire. “You aren’t exactly dressed for the pool.” She leveled him with a stare. “You do know the meaning of pool party?”
He wanted nothing more than to dive into that pool with Shay, with nothing but swimsuits between them. Exactly why he’d dressed to avoid temptation.
Bracing himself for the impact, he decided to take charge of this unavoidable hug and then make a run for the other side of the pool. Caleb attempted a short, one-armed hug, his beer a great excuse to avoid anything more intimate. “How’ve you been, Shay?” he asked.
Instantly, her arms wrapped around his neck, preventing his escape. She clung to him, her soft, warm curves melting into him—a friendly embrace to anyone watching, but they both knew it was more. And damn it, it wasn’t enough. He’d longed to hold her again for so very long. He wanted to mold her closer, to inhale her, to absorb her.
Among all the women a decade of traveling the world delivered to a Special Ops soldier like himself, none of the fast exits had left him with regret. But leaving Shay had, and often he had wondered if she were the reason why no one else had mattered. Because there was no question—she had long ago reached inside him and refused to let go.
“I missed you, Caleb,” she said softly, near his ear.
I missed you, too, he thought, fearing the words would sound as those spoken by a man, not a brother. And he was her brother. Brothers were forever. The minute they became more, they were like every other couple—they could crash and burn, lose what they had. And he’d lose more than her. He’d lose the only family he’d known for the past fifteen years.
He snatched the wet towel she’d draped over his shoulder and tugged it out of her grip, stepped backward and handed it to her. “Thanks for the soggy shoulder, Shay-Shay,” he teased, reminding her of their youthful play and putting their relationship where it was meant to be—laden with sibling jest.
“Oh, God,” she said, rolling her eyes and wringing the towel in her hands. “Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”
Kent chuckled. “You loved it when you were thirteen.”
“Thirteen,” she repeated, grinding the age through her teeth. “When I played dress-up in Mom’s work clothes.”
“And transformed yourself into ‘Shay-Shay Va-voom,’” Kent added, needling her.
“I hate you, Kent,” she said, her teeth still clenched. “Really, really hate you.”
Kent snorted his approval. “To a brother, that’s the ultimate vow of love. Right, Caleb?”
“Right,” Caleb agreed. This was going exactly where Caleb had planned. He tipped his beer, but before the bottle made it to his mouth, Shay snatched it, their fingers brushing, electricity darting between them.
“I’m the youngest,” she said, turning up the bottle. “I get what I want.” The comment, while innocent enough to everyone else, wasn’t innocent at all.
Caleb took back his beer, the intimacy of sharing with her setting him on edge. “Funny thing about this beer,” he said. “I got it from the kitchen on the way out here. Every time I go into that kitchen, I think about a certain pair of jeans you used to love.”
Shock slid over her face. “Don’t even go there, Caleb,” she warned fiercely.
Kent snorted. “Oh, yeah. Those damn jeans.”
“Don’t you go there either, Kent,” Shay warned. “Or I won’t set you up on that blind date with Anna you’ve been begging for.”
Bob chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll have to go there for all of us. Why in the world, my little Shay, did you put the jeans in the oven in the first place? Just make me understand. I’ve always wanted to understand.”
“I’ve answered this question a million times,” she said, her pretty, naturally pink lips pursed in frustration. “I was sixteen when I did that. Sixteen! I’m twenty-eight years old and, I might add, a licensed psychologist who counsels people about the trauma of bad memories. In case you didn’t know, Daddy, this is a bad memory.”
“The dryer was broken,” Caleb answered, when unnecessary guilt flashed on Bob’s face. No matter how upset Shay acted, she ate up the teasing. And he loved watching her cheeks flush, her eyes light up. “She needed her best jeans for a party.” He’d liked those jeans. Liked them too much, considering she’d been sixteen and he’d been nineteen, about to move into campus housing at the University of Texas. Too old for her. Not that he’d ever be the right age for her. But at the time, he’d been damn glad she wasn’t prancing around in those damn tight jeans anymore, inviting hound-dog teen boys to salivate.
Shay shot him a scorching look that wiped the smile from his face. He was pretty sure she would have smacked him otherwise.
Sharon sighed. “Men just don’t understand how important the perfect jeans are to a female,” she said, defending her daughter. “It really was a smart idea, using the oven. It was like a sauna drying room. I think it showed initiative and innovation.”
Exasperated, Bob’s eyes went wide. “Since when is burning down the kitchen called innovation?”
“How many experiments do you think Thomas Edison tried that went wrong?” Sharon countered protectively.
“What was she trying to create?” Bob replied. “The fastest way to destroy her parents’ house?”
“Maybe if you would have put them on warm, not broil, Shay-Shay,” Kent offered, sipping a beer. “Your va-voom might not have gone ka-boom.” He eyed Caleb. “What do you think, Caleb?”
“I didn’t put them on broil!” Shay spat, before Caleb could reply, as she shoved her hands on her hips. The towel fell to her waist, and Caleb gulped at the sight of her high, ample breasts, covered by nothing but thin slices of cloth. “I left them on warm when I went to shower. How was I to know they’d go up in flames?” She clutched the towel and waved a hand between Kent and Caleb. “And how is it that every time you two get together, I’m reduced from grown adult to defensive teenager?”
Kent grinned. “It’s a gift.”
She huffed. “I’ve got a gift for you, Kent,” she said. “And her name isn’t Anna.” Her gaze cut back to Caleb. “I know what you just did, and it won’t work. Two can play your game, Caleb Martin. You remember that.”
She turned on her heel, strutted back to the pool and then let go of the towel. It slid to the pavement, her pert, heart-shaped backside displayed for Caleb’s admiration. Caleb silently groaned. The only game he was going to play was the one called “cold shower.” Correction, by the time this party was over, the game would be called “long cold shower.”
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