Chapter 4
Nash strippedout of his dusty clothes, noting the rips in the fabric of his jeans and the crusted blood on the backs of his legs and arms. His leather jacket had shielded his upper body from much of the shrapnel generated by the exploding trailer.
They’d been lucky. Had Dana Tyler not told him her daughter was living in a trailer on location, he might not have brought his handy mirror and extension rod.
The day could have ended a lot differently had he backed down when Londyn had told him she didn’t need a bodyguard.
The black-haired beauty’s stubborn independence was sexy as hell—and had nearly gotten her killed.
He dropped his clothes on the pile of Londyn’s clothes she’d left on the bathroom floor, making a note to himself to look for laundry facilities. Since every item of clothing she’d brought with her to the location had gone up with the trailer, she’d need the dirty ones cleaned soon. Hank and Sadie might not make it down to Wyoming for a day or two.
He tried hard to keep his mind from going to the boxer briefs he’d loaned Londyn. He’d never considered them particularly sexy. And he’d never seen them on a woman, and still hadn’t, since they were hidden by the oversized T-shirt that hung down to the tops of Londyn’s knees. But damned if his imagination wasn’t going wild, picturing how the smooth fabric would stretch over the swell of her hips and thighs.
“Fuck,” he muttered and turned on the water, twisting it to the coldest setting. Since he wasn’t waiting for it to warm, he stepped beneath water the temperature of freshly melted snow. Nash bit down hard on his tongue to keep from yelping as the icy spray pelted his skin, chinking away at the heat that had flared to an inferno the moment Londyn had stepped out of the bedroom wearing his T-shirt, the pebbled tips of her breasts making tiny points protrude from the jersey material.
Watching her running around the set in her bra and panties that evening had been his first glimpse of her slim, athletic body.
Nash had been proud of her refusal to shoot the scene in the nude. Plus, he was surprised at how she’d performed the scene without demonstrating the slightest bit of discomfort at running around in nothing but her bra and bikini panties.
Nash had seen bathing suits more revealing than Londyn’s underwear. But the fact they were underwear, not parts of a swimsuit, made the costume that much more intimate, which had to make Londyn, an actress new to the profession, uncomfortable. She’d handled it so well and hadn’t hesitated to grab the reins of the spooked horse in an attempt to calm the animal.
Never mind, she was in her underwear and barefooted. The horse could easily have crushed her feet beneath his hooves, knocked her down, and trampled her to death.
He’d rushed forward as quickly as he could to help her without spooking the horse worse.
In the end, Londyn had managed to soothe the horse and keep all ten of her toes, all while standing half-naked in front of at least two dozen members of the production crew.
Once the chilled water had Nash’s libido under control, he turned the handle to warm, built a full head of lather in his palm and scrubbed his body from head to toe, careful to clean the crusted wounds on his arms and legs. They stung for a second, but these superficial wounds were nothing compared to the ones he’d sustained when the grenade had taken his friend Waterson’s life.
Those wounds were more than physical. The shrapnel had been painful going in and equally painful when they’d been surgically removed at the field hospital prior to shipping him to Germany and the hospital at Ramstein.
The plane that had flown them back for medical care had also carried the body of the man who’d given his life to save his team. Only Waterson wasn’t on a stretcher, surrounded by medical personnel working to keep him alive. He’d been in a body bag, headed to his final destination.
Nash’s heart raced, and his breathing grew ragged as the memories rushed back at him. In an effort to push them back, he scrubbed harder, as if the friction, soap and water could wash away the memory of his friend’s shredded body.
“Breathe,” he said softly. He drew a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. Willing his frenetic movements to slow, he smoothed soap over his body in slower, soothing motions.
He repeated the deep breathing until his pulse slowed to a regular rhythm, and his thoughts returned to the cabin, the shower and the woman warming by the fire in the next room.
He wasn’t in Afghanistan. Though the explosion that day had been too much like what had happened that last mission, everyone had survived—including the one person he’d been sent to protect.
He lifted his face to the water and rinsed, anxious to get back to the other room to assure himself that Londyn was still safe.
After shutting off the water, he quickly toweled dry and pulled on clean jeans. His anxiety eating at him, he yanked open the door and strode through the bedroom into the living area, barefoot and carrying his T-shirt.
Londyn straightened from spreading what looked like his sleeping bag out on the sofa, her eyes widening as her gaze hit his naked chest.
He frowned and pulled the T-shirt over his head. “I’m sleeping on the porch. Why is my sleeping bag in here?”
She shook her head. “You realize you’re in bear country, right?”
He shrugged. “I’m a light sleeper, and I have a gun. I’m not worried about it.”
“Well,” she said. “I am worried about it. You might be a light sleeper, but I wouldn’t get any sleep, knowing bears like to visit these cabins because careless tourists leave trash out that attracts them. They come looking for it.” She pointed to the sofa. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not being eaten by a hungry bear.”
His lips twitched. “A hungry bear wouldn’t eat me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, making the T-shirt rise up her thighs and giving him a peek at the royal blue boxer briefs she wore beneath it.
Nash’s pulse leaped, and his mouth suddenly dried. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. That little bit of royal blue had him instantly tied in knots.
She cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll sleep on the sofa?”
Though he knew it was a mistake, he could do nothing more than nod.
Her face softened. “Good. I need sleep so I don’t look like I’ve been ridden hard and put up wet for the shoot tomorrow.”
“You’ll look amazing.” His brow dipped low as he realized she still wore the towel on her head. “The brush didn’t work for you?”
Londyn shrugged. “I started to pull the tangles out but wanted to get you set up first. I figured you couldn’t argue much if I had it all situated before you came out.” She reached for the brush. “I’ll work on it now. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stand near the fire while I do it. It’s the toastiest place in the cabin. Since the explosion, I can’t seem to get warm enough. It shouldn’t take me too long.”
“You’re probably still in a bit of shock.” He walked back into the bedroom, grabbed the extra blanket off the foot of the bed and returned to the living room. He folded the blanket in half and laid it on the floor between the potbellied stove and the sofa.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She dropped onto the blanket and pulled her knees up to her chin, fitting the big T-shirt over her legs. When she pulled the towel off her head, he took it from her hands, laid it on the floor beside her and held out his hand. “Brush.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowing. “I need it to get through the snarls.”
He plucked the brush from her hand. “Let me.”
Her brow twisted. “Are you sure? My hair is really thick. The tangles can be stubborn.”
“Like you?” he said with half a smile. “Don’t argue. Relax and enjoy the warmth.”
She turned her head back to the fire. “See for yourself.”
Nash started at the ends, easing the brush through small sections of hair until he had all the knots out of the bottom four inches. He moved up, working the knots out a little at a time without yanking or ripping the hairs out by the roots.
As Nash worked, Londyn’s shoulders relaxed. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “That’s nice,” she murmured. “How many little sisters do you have?”
“Three,” he said. “Though they’re not so little anymore. The youngest is in college, studying to be a speech pathologist. The middle sister works as a financial analyst in Seattle. The oldest is the mother of twin five-year-old boys. Her husband works for the Forestry Department, and she teaches English to high school students.”
“Any brothers?” Londyn asked.
“No. Just sisters.” He chuckled. “My father and I were outnumbered.” Nash continued working the tangles from her hair until it lay smooth and straight, falling halfway down her back. He didn’t want to stop, but he’d finished and had no excuse to keep stroking the brush through her hair. “All done.”
Londyn ran her hand over her hair. “I can’t remember the last time anyone brushed the tangles out of my hair. That was nice. Your sisters must have loved you.”
“They do. And I love them.” He pushed to his feet and walked into the kitchen. “Mom worked full-time as a physical therapist. By the time she got home, she was tired. We had to help with dinner and dishes and then get ourselves through showers and homework. We all pitched in.” He pulled deli meat out of the refrigerator, along with mustard and mayonnaise, and set them on the counter. “Is a sandwich all right with you?”
“I’d love it.” She rose and joined him in the small kitchen barely big enough for one person, much less two.
Every time he turned, he bumped into her or brushed against her breasts. His groin tightened.
“We have lunch meat… Is there any bread?” she asked as she opened one cabinet door after another.
“I thought I saw a loaf in here.” Nash opened the cabinet beside the refrigerator, where he found the bread. He laid it on the counter with the meats and condiments.
Londyn produced two plates, a knife and two glasses.
“Mustard or mayo?” he asked.
“Both.”
He nodded. “Right answer.” He slathered a generous layer of mayo on one piece of bread and mustard on the other and laid them on the plate.
Londyn layered deli meat over the mustard side, a slice of cheese over the meat and topped it with the bread with the mayo.
Once they had both sandwiches complete, they each took a plate.
“Table or in front of the stove?” Nash asked.
Londyn was already halfway to the stove.
He grinned. “Stove, it is.”
She settled on the blanket in front of the stove and sat cross-legged with the plate in her lap.
Nash sat beside her, lifted his sandwich and took a bite.
“So, how did you end up being in charge of brushing your sisters’ hair?” Londyn asked and took a bite of her sandwich.
Nash chewed and swallowed before answering. “Since I was the oldest, I was responsible for helping my little sisters. None of them liked Mom brushing out their hair. She loved us all dearly but was busy getting everything ready for the next day and didn’t take the time to ease the tangles out of their hair.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“But you did,” Londyn said. “What a nice thing for a brother to do. Most guys wouldn’t have done it.”
He shrugged and swallowed. “There was a big age gap between us. I was the product of a high school pregnancy and her first marriage that didn’t even last until I was born. My sisters were half-sisters from Mom’s second marriage to my stepfather.”
“You were close to them?” Londyn swept her tongue across the mustard on her bottom lip.
Nash almost forgot what they were talking about. He had to replay her words in his head to get his mind off the mustard on her lip. “Being older, I kind of felt like I was responsible for them. Like a second dad.”
Londyn turned to face Nash. “What about their father? Was he not helpful?”
Nash smiled. “My stepfather was the dad he didn’t have to be for me. I was seven when he married my mother. He knew he was getting a package deal and accepted me as his own from day one.”
“You’re lucky,” Londyn said softly. “Most men aren’t as willing to raise another man’s child.” She took another bite of her sandwich.
“He was all in. He taught me how to throw a football, bait a hook and filet a fish. He taught me how to treat a woman by the example he set with my mother,” Nash stared down at the sandwich in his hand, the memories of his childhood washing over him, making him smile. “He was a warrant officer in the Army. Though we didn’t have much money, he made sure my mother got the college education she’d always dreamed of. And he didn’t stop loving me when his daughters were born.” He nodded. “I was lucky. I had a great childhood because of him.”
Londyn stared at the potbellied stove, chewing on the bite of sandwich in her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, “I had a great childhood once I moved in with my grandfather. I wasn’t cut out for life in Hollywood. I didn’t look like the glamorous people who floated through. My mother married a few times. Her husbands didn’t want anything to do with me, and my mother was always on location somewhere in the world, leaving me with a nanny.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said with a smile. “When the last nanny quit because I was too precocious, my mother sent me to live with my grandfather on his ranch in Montana for the summer. I never moved back to California.”
Nash polished off the last bite of his sandwich and set his plate on the end table behind him. “Did you miss your mother?”
Londyn nodded. “I did. She missed me, but I didn’t fit in there, and she knew it. Plus, she had a career that required her to travel to different locations, sometimes all over the world. She couldn’t take me with her, and I made it hard for her to leave me with a nanny. Living with my grandfather was the perfect answer. I loved the ranch life and thrived in Montana.” She took another bite and set her plate on the table behind her.
“If you love ranching so much, why take up acting?”
She sighed. “My grandfather died three months ago. He’d mortgaged the property to put me through college. Drought and harsh winters hit him hard, and he couldn’t keep up with the property taxes. I didn’t know any of this until he fell off his horse and died of an aneurysm.”
“I’m sorry,” Nash said softly.
Londyn’s eyes welled with tears. “Yeah. Shit happens. Thing is, my grandfather was often grumpy and would snap at you when you did something stupid.” She snorted. “But I loved that grizzled old cowboy, and I love living in Montana with the big skies, mountains and pastures that stretch for miles.” Her voice faltered, and she blinked several times.
Nash felt her pain and wanted to put his arms around her and hold her through it all. Instead, he remained silent, letting her have the time to pull herself together.
Londyn squared her shoulders, breathed in deeply and let it out. “I had to do something to raise enough money to save the ranch. Mother knew this script needed someone who looked like me and could ride a horse. It was a perfect fit if I could act as well. With some coaching from my mother, I auditioned, did a screen test and got the job. If I can make it through the entire production, I can pay off the debt. From there, I’ll figure out how to make the ranch pay for itself.”
“That’s a lot for one person to manage,” Nash said.
Her jaw tightened. “I have a couple of loyal ranch hands, and my neighbor stepped in when my grandfather died to help me through the spring roundup, culling, and tagging. I just need to come up with the money to keep the bank or the government from seizing the ranch.”
“What about your mother? Couldn’t she help you?” Nash asked.
Londyn shook her head. “I refuse to ask her for money. She wants me to sell and move to LA. I can’t do that.” She stared at the cast iron stove in front of her. “I don’t belong there. I don’t fit in. My life is in Montana, not California.”
“I get it,” Nash said. “I’ve been in cities where you drive for a long time before you can get out of it like it won’t let go of you without a struggle.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Yes. That’s exactly how it feels. Out here, I step outside my house and can breathe without inhaling exhaust fumes. Instead of horns honking and the constant roar of traffic on the move, I hear the chirp of cicadas, the occasional bellow of a cow looking for her calf or a hawk’s cry. It’s beautiful.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Sounds silly, but that’s how I feel. The bottom line is that I’m not a city girl.”
“What if this movie launches you into stardom?”
Londyn grimaced. “I hate to say I’d never do it again. It all depends on how well the ranch is performing. I don’t want to lose it. It’s a part of me.”
“You realize they’ll require you to be there for film screenings and premiers, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“They’ll have to advertise the movie with you and the lead male showing up for the red-carpet events and on talk shows. That will keep you away from Montana quite a bit.”
Londyn’s lips pressed together. “My mother mentioned all of those things. Yes, I’ll go for the premiers and show up for interviews.” She yawned. “I’m just not good at stuff like that. What good does it really do?”
“It gets the word out about the film and increases ticket sales,” Nash said. “The more sales they make, the more royalties you earn. And if this movie is well-received, I’m betting the studio will want you to do more movies.”
Londyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “On the one hand, the money would be beneficial in allowing me to make some improvements on the ranch, but it sounds like a commitment I’m not sure I want to make.” She shook her head. “Right now, I’m focusing on my primary goal...to keep my ranch.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to spin you up when you should be getting rest.” He ran his gaze over her. “Any lasting effects from the explosion?”
Londyn rolled her shoulders. “I’m a little stiff, but that could be from this evening’s horse scenes.” She smiled. “At least my ears aren’t ringing anymore.” Londyn yawned. “I guess I should leave you to your sleeping bag and go to my room. Thanks for getting the fire going. I finally warmed up. And thanks for brushing my hair. That was the best. Your sisters were lucky to have you.”
Nash pushed to his feet and held out his hand.
When Londyn placed her palm in his, a spark of electricity raced up his arm, spreading heat through his body. He pulled her to her feet a little faster than was necessary, making her stumble and fall against him.
His arms circled her waist, steadying her.
She rested her hands on his chest and looked up at him wide-eyed, her mouth parting on a soft gasp. Her body pressed to his, and all Nash could think of was that the woman was close enough to kiss.
Nash stared into the inky-black depths of her gaze.
When her tongue darted out to dampen her lips, it drew his attention lower.
Definitely close enough to kiss.
As if drawn to her by an irresistible, magnetic force, his head lowered until his lips were but a breath away from hers. All she had to do was rise up to meet him.
His breath arrested in his lungs, and he froze as if caught in a time warp, willing her to make that move.
Londyn’s fingers curled into the fabric of his T-shirt. Her body tensed against his.
For a moment, Nash thought she’d step away. It would be the right thing to do. Because as much as he wanted the kiss, he knew it would change everything.
The voice of reason confined to the very back of his mind begged him to take that step backward, to stop the insanity before it could take firm root.
“This might be a big mistake,” she whispered, “but hell—” Londyn rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. At first tentative, her mouth brushed his, then pressed firmer, her tongue darting out to breach the seam of his lips.
He opened to her, meeting her tongue with a long and earth-shattering caress.
Her hand slipped up his chest and curled into the hair at the back of his head, holding him tightly, urging him to get closer, to take more.
And he did, one hand pressing against her lower back, the other cupping the back of her head and his fingers slipping into her thick, damp hair.
He kissed her like there might not be a tomorrow for them, like a man consuming his last meal. No matter how close he held her, it wasn’t close enough.
When he remembered to breathe, he lifted his head and stared down into her glassy eyes. “Definitely a mistake,” he murmured.
Her tongue swept across her swollen lips as her gaze held his for a long moment. Then she blinked and moved back.
Though he wanted to retain his hold on her, he let his arms drop to his sides.
She ran her hands over her thighs, stretching the T-shirt tightly over her pebble-tipped breasts. “I’m not sure what just happened...”
He knew exactly what had happened and wanted it to happen again. The feeling was so intense that it shook him. “You should get some rest.” He moved around her, snagged his sleeping bag and headed for the door.
“Nash, wait,” she called out. “You can’t sleep outside. The bears...”
“I can handle the bears,” he said and stepped out onto the deck. “Lock the door behind me.” He pulled the door closed and released the breath he’d been holding. He tossed the sleeping bag on the porch, marched to his truck and retrieved the handgun he kept tucked in the console.
Yeah, he could handle the bears a hell of a lot easier than he could handle himself with Londyn in the room.