Mine

She squinted and headed to the fireplace. He knew he had to stop her. The mantel served as a showcase for Brandon. Kid photos, prom photos. Gabe didn’t exactly hide Brandon’s life inside these walls.

“I know you want to look around.” Which was just about the last thing in the world he wanted, so he hooked her arm and turned her around until she faced him. Ran a mental inventory, trying to remember where all the wall photos of Brandon were in the house.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her in closer. “We should sleep.”

“I’m thinking about kicking you.” But her hands went to his chest and she didn’t fight back.

He frowned. “I’m not really into that.”

“You’re loaded.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” When she snorted he tried again. “I work hard, to the extent that makes the bank account fatter, so be it.”

“I had visions of her and your son living in this tiny two-bedroom.” She started telling a tale straight out of Dickens, complete with begging for food.

Gabe decided he probably needed to trim the beard and buy something other than a plaid shirt. Clearly he came off as if he made six cents per year, which was not really the look he intended. But he did get her theory. It wasn’t far off from the life they led in the begi

“Honestly, we did struggle for a very long time.” And he’d vowed to make things better for them and worked his ass off until he did. “I don’t come from money. I don’t flaunt what I have now, but I earned it all. Legitimately, I might add. Since I deal with stress, this is the place I come to burn all that off.”

She tapped a finger against his chin. “I feel like you’re leaving something out.”

That list was so long, but there was only one item on it that he cared about at the moment. “Did I mention my big bed?”

“About a thousand times on the flight here. Even the pilot of that private plane heard you.”

Gabe hadn’t been going for subtlety, so that wasn’t exactly news. Plus, the guy worked for him. Mostly contract work, but his piloting skills weren’t up for debate. Gabe paid what needed to be paid to secure his services and his loyalty, not to mention his dignified silence.

“Want to see it?” With the hope of wi

“This conversation isn’t over.” But she tilted her head to the side to give him greater access to that soft skin.

Relief washed through him. “Of course not.”

“I’m going to figure it out.”

“I’d rather you spend your time studying me.” He lifted her off her feet.

On cue, she wrapped those long legs around his hips. “Naked, I presume.”

Now they were back on track. “Definitely.”

SEVENTEEN

The man exhausted easily for someone who spent most of his military life waiting in fields for the enemy to arrive. But Gabe being asleep provided Natalie with the perfect opportunity to wander. She refused to hang around in bed, staring at him until he woke up.

Though that did have some benefits. In sleep, some of his rough edges smoothed out. He didn’t look so stern and couldn’t sound unbending with his mouth closed. And that dark beard against crisp white sheets was something to behold. But curiosity with a side of hunger called, and she pla

She slipped across his big bedroom—emphasis on big—and stopped at the dresser ru

She picked up the T-shirt he’d abandoned on the floor. Held it to her nose and inhaled his scent. Something spicy that reminded her of the outdoors. Not being one to stumble around naked in strange houses, she put on the shirt and it dropped to her upper thigh. Very upper.

For some reason being clothed, at least a little, made her snooping feel a bit less sleazy. Not that she pla

She slipped into the hall and for a second debated looking around on the upper floor. She decided that great room had to lead to a kitchen and she’d start there first. Her feet thudded against the shiny floor. She smiled at the contrast between her pale skin and the dark hardwood.

She’d probably be able to see her nearly white legs in the dark but she didn’t need to rely on that. The pale gray morning, just before dawn provided a dull splash of light as she rounded the first set of stairs and hit the landing to the next. He had carried her up those without breaking a sweat or starting to pant. The man sure did impress.

The steps emptied out into the great room. The space was aptly named. It stretched across a good portion of the back of the house. Outlined by glass doors, it had an open feel. The soaring ceiling and two seating areas did the rest. And she didn’t even know what to think about the massive television over the fireplace. The thing looked six feet long, but she doubted that could be right.

She might have done the calculations and measuring if she hadn’t spied the photographs all lined up on the mantel. So many of them. Her eyes refused to adjust so she stepped closer. Tiptoeing for some reason she couldn’t really explain. It wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong.

She’d wound her way around to the back of the large sectional. There was something odd about those photos. She needed to get closer to see.

“Good morning.” The deep, booming male voice rang out in the quiet room.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around, her hand going to her hip for her gun but she grabbed nothing but cotton. And not much of it.

She had no trouble focusing now. The last traces of sleep vanished. She stood facing the shiny sprawl of the kitchen with its light gray walls and stainless steel everything. That and a kid, but not a kid. An almost-man. One right on the verge where his body had just transitioned from gawky to muscular. Tall with a sleepy look on his amused face.

The black hair and blue eyes might be different, but the way he held himself. His mouth. “Brandon.”

She actually might shoot Gabe. He let her think that his son was young, really young. That he got shipped off and forgotten. None of that appeared to be true.

“I know you didn’t expect me to be here.” Brandon sipped on a cup of what looked like coffee.

The smell hit her. Then she took in the light and the toast on a plate in front of him. How had she missed all of those signs on her laser-like walk to the fireplace? “That is only the start of my confusion.”

He smiled, and the rest of the resemblance fell together. “Okay.”

She tried to do the math in her head. She sucked at guessing people’s ages. She knew Gabe’s—thirty-six—but no way was this kid only thirteen or whatever would make sense in terms of Gabe raising him.

She tugged on the hem of the shirt again, which seemed to be getting shorter by the second. She wanted to run back upstairs and find pants. Maybe punch Gabe, but no way was she giving this kid a show of her ass. “I’m not sure how to play this.”

He laughed. “Me either.”

That didn’t make much sense. He must have been here before, meeting a woman who clearly spent the night with his father. Bumbling his way through the awkward morning-after introductions. “Why?”

“Dad doesn’t bring women here.”

Her response, anything logical or smart, slammed to a halt in her brain. “He . . . oh.”