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  As a matter of fact, it did not appear as if Keely had ever unpacked, and her side of the bed had not been slept in. She’d sent me down to bed the night before, saying she wasn’t tired. And as I drifted off to sleep, I’d assumed she’d come down sometime soon.

  Apparently, she hadn’t. And she was gone.

  I snatched up my phone to text her, but I had no bars and the words NO SERVICE glowed in the upper corner. I hadn’t noticed this loss in service the night before.

  Shit.

  I ran back up the stairs again and over to the fold-out bed.

  Reaching out toward him, I had to stop myself when I remembered that it usually wasn’t a good idea to wake a former serviceman—particularly a special operator—from a dead sleep by touching or grabbing them. It could sometimes be a triggering mechanism.

  I’d never had that problem with Ryan before, but I couldn’t remember a time in which I’d woken him by shaking his arm. So instead I called in a normal tone of voice, “Ryan.”

  For a minute he didn’t’ move, and I studied him in sleep. I used to watch him sleep—in a totally non-creepy way, of course—when we were in bed together. He never looked peaceful in sleep. He always looked contained as if he were silently struggling against some unknown force.

  It used to worry me then. Now, it struck a spike of terror right down in the center of my heart. Every time I thought of him in that capsule and something going wrong to trigger him, it made me cold with fear.

  “Ryan,” I called a little louder, and he sat up, eyes wide open, perfectly awake.

  He blinked a few times and then focused on me. “Yes?”

  “Keely’s gone.”

  He rubbed his eyes with the back of his knuckle. “Gone? You mean like on a walk?”

  I held out my hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness. “No. Gone gone. As in I don’t even think she slept here last night.”

  He scratched his jaw, and it made that flinty noise as his nails rubbed at his morning growth of whiskers. In spite of myself, I got goosebumps remembering the feel of those morning whiskers all over my body during a rousing bout of morning sex. In some places, the sensation had left me feeling tingly and tender all day long, remembering how he’d touched me, how he’d felt.

  Damn. Random memories like that loved to just pop into my brain at inopportune moments, zapping straight down to my core, threatening meltdown. It wasn’t fair. Most women never had to see their ex-whatevers again after being unceremoniously dumped by them.

  “She wouldn’t just leave like that and not let us know,” he said, clearing his throat of the morning gruffness. “That’s not Keely. Did she text you? Let me find my phone and see if she sent me anything.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no cell reception up here at all. And no wifi that I can detect.”

  He pushed his way out of bed, and I immediately averted my eyes. He was wearing only his boxers, no shirt.

  Damn. I didn’t need to see him half—scratch that, three-quarters—naked at this particular point in my breakup recovery.

  I turned around and headed to the kitchen. Since the entire upper floor was open concept, I could still see him if I turned around. Instead I ducked behind the fridge door and grabbed a chilled bottle of water. When I turned around, I noticed a lined sheet of notebook paper sitting on the counter. It was covered in writing.

  My eyes slid to the bottom. Keely had signed it and adorned her name with multiple hearts.

  “She left a note. It’s here in the kitchen.”

  He came up to the counter opposite me. In my peripheral vision, I could see that he was yanking a t-shirt over his chest. Once that was accomplished, I held the note up to him as if to corroborate my claim.

  He frowned. “What’s it say?”

  I read it aloud:

  Dear Gray and Ty,

  So you know, I wasn’t lying about not feeling very well last night, so I’ve had my publicist make my apologies.

  If being roped into working with me up here this weekend wasn’t going to be enough to get you to talk, then a girl’s got to resort to drastic measures. Actually, the truth of the matter is that I was planning all along to move to the hotel and attend the rest of the Film Festival solo.

  Reality Keely is going to go home and sleep this off while mega-dosing on Vitamin C. But Imaginary Girlfriend Keely is going to be snuggled in a “romantically remote glass cottage” while waiting for her beau to pop the question this weekend. At least that’s what the press will have been led to believe.

  Maybe you’re wondering why I’m doing this. Well, I was hoping to help. I love happy endings. I like sappy romance stories and movies on the Hallmark channel. I like to believe that’s possible in the real world, too. I absolutely love love and watching other people get there. And especially helping it along a little. It’s like being a fairy godmother. Every girl’s got to have a hobby, you know.

  Should either of you take it into your sweet little heads that you are going to bail out on the magic of the gorgeous glass cottage, think again. By the time you are reading this, I’m sure there are different media outlets and fans alike all jockeying to provide the first glimpse of the shiny new rock on my finger. Let’s just say that whispering engagement rumors to the press is like throwing chum in a shark tank, only more likely to lead to the loss of a limb.

  The media will only be allowed to come as far up as the gatehouse, so your privacy is ensured as long as you stay on the grounds and away from public eyes. And please try not to be seen outside together because then the jig will be up, and Ty will end up roasted on social media for “cheating” on me.

  Therefore, you are both trapped, just the way I like it. :)

  There’s no wifi. No cell reception. No way to communicate with the outside world except for the landline.

  I’ll send a car for you at five p.m. on Sunday for your flight out.

  I hope you take that time to communicate with each other. The cottage is fully stocked and very private. There are lovely trails down to the beach.

  Enjoy your romantic weekend together.

  Kisses,

  K

  PS—The Parent Trap is my fave movie ever.

  I blinked a few times, rereading the note in my shock. Ryan had stood stock still and rigid as I’d read the note, getting more and more visibly tense in my peripheral vision. Arms folded across his chest. Shoulders back and stiff. When I chanced a look up at him, his jaw was clenched so tightly that if you’d shoved a lump of coal in his mouth—wait, I knew that wasn’t how the saying went, but it probably applied to his other end, too.

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “What the hell has gotten into that woman? What did you say to her?”

  I scowled at him, setting the note down on the counter. “Nothing. I just said you decided it wasn’t a good idea for us to see each other anymore. Nothing about you caving to blackmail or being afraid of a sixty-three-year-old man.”

  His features darkened. “That’s not nothing. Nothing is ‘It’s none of your business.’”

  I sighed. “I didn’t put her up to trapping you into spending the weekend with me, if that is what you are asking. That would be the last thing I’d do.”

  His hand dropped from rubbing his forehead and he glared at me. “Why’s that? Because you wanted to spend the weekend with Aaron?”

  I leveled my gaze at him and glared over the top of my glasses. “Don’t even start that shit.”

  He blew out a breath then crossed the room to his open suitcase on the floor beside his pull-out bed. Grabbing some clothing, he disappeared down the stairs and into the bathroom.

  I futilely tried to check cell reception up on this floor. Still nothing. I wished I’d known the night before that we’d be stuck in a communication vortex all weekend. Good thing I hadn’t planned on getting any work done.

  Ryan emerged from the lower level fully dressed with his hair combed, and he’d procured a pair of binoculars
somewhere, probably from the study or a closet.

  Before I could even ask, he looked up at me. “I’m going to reconnoiter.”

  I raised my brows. “Are we fighting a war?”

  “I want to verify that what she’s saying is true. That we’re stuck here.”

  I frowned. “I doubt she’s lying about it. Why would she? If you go out, you risk being seen.”

  He shot me a look. “I was a Navy SEAL. I know how to do this without being seen. It pays to be a winner.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You gonna start singing Anchors Aweigh now or is that my cue?”

  He grinned. “Watch and learn.”

  “If I can’t see you, how am I going to watch?” He left through the back door that led through the garage—as I remembered from my early investigations of the house. As he did so, I called, “The only easy day was yesterday!”

  “Hooyah!” came his immediate reply as the door shut behind him.

  I couldn’t resist, I had to admit, so I moved to the front window and glanced out over the top of the driveway. As he predicted, I didn’t see him. I had no idea what route he took, but after a few minutes of searching, I decided to pull the blinds in case some photographer made his way up the hill and was, even now, snapping pictures of me looking out the window.

  I turned back to the room, hugging my arms across my chest and trying to sort out the jumble of racing thoughts. What the hell was Keely thinking to stick him here with me for the weekend? I mean, I might manage to kill him before he killed me.

  Would it just be one very distant and chilly weekend with two people holed up in one place with nothing to say to each other?

  Or maybe I could find out what was going on in his head. Maybe—if he tolerated it—maybe I could help him. Wasn’t it just tragically me? Gray of the broken heart, selflessly offering up help to the very man who had broken it?

  Or maybe, at long last, I could just let myself be mad. Let myself vent the feelings I’d bottled up for weeks. Let them out and let him see…

  But would it help?

  Chapter 14

  Ryan

  Well that settled it. I was going to kill Keely. My hand closed around the hard tube of the binoculars, so tense I could probably crush the lenses if I focused just a little bit more. I’d spotted at least one van, a photographer and a vehicle with a satellite receiver on the roof. I’d been able to get close enough to overhear parts of their conversation and they were currently plotting ways to get up past the gate after dark.

  Fortunately, they were still unsure which cabin inside the community that “Tyley” were staying at, but several paparazzi were pouring over a tablet that showed aerial satellite photos of the entire community. Time and process of elimination would have them peeking in the front windows in no time.

  My recon involved checking out the cabin from all front-facing sides and I noted that Gray had pulled every last shade down against the brightly sunny day. That’s my clever girl.

  I allowed myself the automatic thought for half a second before chastising myself for it. I was still thinking like this. Still. All these weeks later…

  It wasn’t my right to think that way, and I hoped that my tendency to jump to those thoughts would ease up soon. But for the moment, I wasn’t going to worry about that. I just needed to figure out a fucking way to get through this weekend.

  Her. And me. Under a small roof. In a gorgeous, romantic setting with no internet or TV service or anything else to divert us.

  How the fuck was I going to keep my hands off of her?

  Last night she’d looked so beautiful that it had been almost physically painful to keep my eyes off her. But I had. I’d been very good at resisting the temptation in public.

  In private? I didn’t trust myself. I’d have to resolve not to speak with her or even spend time in the same room with her if it was avoidable.

  And that fully-stocked mini-bar I’d spotted in the living room was calling out to me. But I couldn’t get drunk. That would make it worse. Because this gaping hole inside my chest—the one I’d been nursing for the past four weeks, would demand to be filled. And in certain cases, it would demand to be filled by any random warm body and soft pair of lips I could find.

  The true danger was that inside that cottage wasn’t just any warm body or soft pair of lips. That body and those soft lips belonged to the only woman I currently wanted. The only one I wanted to hold. And as the weeks had gone by, that wanting had only gotten stronger, not weaker.

  This was a shields-up, guard-up, locked-heart scenario. I’d already hurt her enough. More than I’d ever wanted to. No need to drive in the knife—for her or for me.

  I’d keep it distant and professional, like I had been at work, in public, around all my friends. I could do this.

  I slipped back into the garage, taking care to lock the door from the inside, then into the house, doing the same.

  Gray sat at the dining table in front of the big windows looking out over the lake. She held a giant mug to her face with both hands, and I was reminded at that moment that I could use some coffee and a little breakfast. Protein would be good. Then a thorough workout. That would help clear my head properly.

  So I set to work, asking her if she wanted some scrambled eggs. She demurred more with a sound than an actual pronounceable word. Likely she’d come to a similar decision that I had. The less actual conversation between us this weekend, the better.

  I poured some coffee then turned to check up on her. When I turned around, I noted how her head jerked from looking at me. I buried a self-satisfied smile in my mug as I tipped it back again. There was no small gratification in catching her checking out my ass.

  Seemed I wasn’t the only one who was missing it. Careful there, baby girl. You’re showing some emotions.

  Christ. Keely had no idea. Or maybe she had, but this was torture. And I thought this, as a man who had survived the physical screening test, SEALs BUD/S training, SQT and everything else they’d thrown at me during qualifications.

  Not to mention those years in the teams. At least during those years, I’d gotten plenty of sex when I was on leave or at liberty. The astronaut lifestyle had been more complicated. It was feast while boots were on the planet and famine while on station.

  The past four weeks, I’d been living like a priest. All because of that sweet young thing across the room from me. Resentment burned in my chest. It wasn’t her fault and I shouldn’t be directing my frustration at her, but goddamn, this was rough.

  I tipped the rest of the coffee mug back and then turned to refill it, affording her some time to recover.

  After breakfast and with not much else to do, I changed into my workout clothes and descended the two stories to the gym. Some cardio on the treadmill, some lifting on the weight machine, sit-ups, pull-ups would all do me good.

  I was determined to render myself exhausted so I would not think about sex. Or Gray. Or sex with Gray.

  Fuck, I was doing it again.

  Forty-five minutes into my workout, she came down the stairs and entered the gym with a towel wrapped around her. After casting a very brief glance in my direction, she moved over to the hot tub and read the instructions on the control panel. I tore my eyes away from her when she dropped her towel.

  But not so quickly that I didn’t see her bikini. And the way the bottoms hugged her round ass. And those long legs, that expanse of glowing skin that I knew from intimate experience was even softer than it looked.

  I dropped the weights and moved to the salmon ladder for pull-ups. Time to punish myself with some deep, core abdominals. I’d make myself so sore that sex wouldn’t even cross my mind. Nope. I was not going to think about kissing her. Or touching her. Or putting my mouth all over her…

  Damn it. I was suffering from a classic case of blue balls, and apparently it was now threatening to cause brain damage.

  As I pushed my way up and down that salmon ladder, each pull up giving me momentum to push the pull-up bar to a highe
r level of hooks, I felt myself getting into the zone. I hardly even allowed myself to breathe and forced the pace faster each round until the pain grew too intense. I let myself drop to the mat below, covered in sweat and breathing so hard I could scarcely catch my breath.

  I bent, bracing my hands on my knees and sneaked a side glance at the spa. Gray was openly staring at me, her face frozen in something that looked a bit like fascination. When she noticed me looking at her, however, she pulled away and turned her head, sitting back and putting her feet up so she could stare at the ceiling while the spa jets massaged her.

  I turned, determined to do another hour with my back to her. After a little while, I heard her get out of the spa, turn it off and go up the stairs.

  I finally sat down on the bench and downed a liter of water, trying to decide if I had it in me to do more today. I decided on cool down stretches and slow rehydration.

  A half hour later, I climbed the stairs to use the bathroom. The door was open, and the bathroom was steamed up from a recent shower but was empty. Not even understanding the reason why, I turned around to glance across the hall into the bedroom.

  Gray hadn’t closed the door, and she’d just dropped her bath towel to the ground. And she was standing there naked as the day she was born. Gray was a lovely woman, slim build, curved hips, a smaller than average chest but a willowy, feminine frame marred only by the jagged scar from multiple open-heart surgeries which bisected her chest.

  My eyes traveled up from her sweet-tasting thighs—and I knew from firsthand experience— across her smooth belly.

  I was immediately hard and aching. And for God only knows what reason, I left the hallway and entered the bedroom.

  It was goddamn impossible to not think about what that slight, feminine body felt like pressed up against mine. Naked. To remember what she sounded like when I made her come.

  Fuck. I wanted it. I’d wanted her every night since the day I ended it.

  I wanted to taste her again. All over.

  If I didn’t get out of here fast, I’d be pushing her onto the bed and covering that beautiful naked body with my own. And now I wasn’t just hard and aching. I was throbbing with need.