Redeeming The Billionaire Seal. Lauren Canan

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СКАЧАТЬ wrapped up in a tough persona. He was intrigued from the second he’d stepped inside her clinic. She was nothing remotely close to the scrawny little kid who’d followed him around the ranch, asking one question after another, ranging from why frogs hopped to where the clouds went on a clear day. He had often wondered when she found time to breathe.

      She was still slim, but maturity had added some appealing assets. Her hair fell in a long, flaxen braid down her back. Her fine features were timeless; the delicate arch of her brows enhanced soft, honey-brown, almost golden eyes. The small button nose was now refined, adding to the delicate balance of her face. And heaven help him, her lips were made to be kissed. He let out a long breath and tried to gain control of his body, which suddenly had a will of its own.

      In the years he’d been away, Holly Anderson had matured into a remarkably beautiful woman. Chance abruptly realized where his mind was headed and brought it to a halt. That type of awareness was completely inappropriate. Holly had always been like a kid sister to him. Theirs was a special friendship, a unique bond, and he would not do anything to change that. At least that was his steadfast intention.

      Without conscious thought he walked across the natural stone courtyard around the pool, bypassing the twelve-foot-high waterfall, to the wrought iron gate between open pasture and the estate grounds.

      Like the main house, the huge barn structure utilized a lot of natural stone beneath log beams reaching up some fourteen feet high to support an A-frame dark green roof. Accents of the same mossy color were added to the cross boards in the doors and the shutters outside each stall. Inside the massive structure, there was a lobby with trophy cases and a sitting area. To the left, a hallway with mahogany wainscoting led to the office on one side and two wash and grooming stalls on the right. Straight down the main aisle of thirty-six stalls, there was a grain room, blanket closets, tack room and two separate oversize stalls for foaling. To the right, there was a three-bay equipment garage. The indoor arena, with its elevated viewing area, was only slightly smaller than the outside arena.

      Soft nickers welcomed him. The vibrant scents of cedar and pine shavings, alfalfa and leather soothed him. The barn, for all its amenities, seemed smaller than he remembered. He strolled down the center aisle, glancing at the horses in their stalls, some still munching their evening grain or pulling a bite of hay from their overhead rack. They were all bred to be the best and they appeared to fulfill that expectation. Their silky coats shone, even under the dim nighttime lighting. Alert and curious, some were excited at the prospect of leaving their stall for exercise in one form or another, regardless of the time, day or night.

      He reached the open door to the tack room, and the scent of all the leather and the oils used to clean and condition the various pieces of tack lured him in. Western saddles sat five deep on the twenty-foot-long racks. Bridles covered one wall, halters another, with various other tools and grooming equipment in the floor-to-ceiling cabinet in the corner. He noticed an English saddle at the end of one of the saddle racks. That was new. You sure couldn’t work cattle with it. But then a lot of the wrangling was done on four-wheelers today. He reached over and picked it up. It was light, less than half the weight of a Western saddle. It was probably there to appease some guest who came out for a weekend and didn’t care for the Western riggings.

      Back out in the central hall, he walked to the far end of the barn to an open area where hay for the stalled horses was kept. He sat down on a bale, leaned back against the wall and gazed at the sky. He missed this. He’d done plenty of night maneuvers, but the last thing he thought about then was gazing at the stars.

      He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. Until a decision was made regarding his ability to perform his job, all he could do was walk the tightrope and keep his fingers crossed. He’d been assigned to see a civilian doctor while he was here. Hopefully he could add some positive input. But Chance had a sickening feeling in his gut that his life as a SEAL was over. It was how he’d deal with the news that caused the turmoil in his head. He was thirty years old. A lot of guys dropped out of the program by now. No doubt all of them wished they had the opportunity Chance was being given by his brothers. But he didn’t want to go there. If his brothers were content with the corporate side of things, good enough. But he wanted no part of it.

      * * *

      Holly again flounced onto her back, staring at the ceiling fan’s blades whirling silently in the darkened room. This was so not working. She was tired. She’d had a long day. But even after a soak in the tub she couldn’t go to sleep. Her mind refused to shut down. Glancing at the clock, she calculated she’d been lying in bed tossing and turning for almost two hours. Sleep was not even in the neighborhood, let alone knocking at her door. And she knew the reason was because Chance was home.

      He was probably up in the big house with Wade and Cole. It was well after midnight. They were probably asleep. Even if they weren’t, she wasn’t about to disturb them on Chance’s first day home. But. What if he wasn’t with them? What if he was restless and couldn’t sleep either? What if he’d wanted some air? There was only one place he would go at one o’clock in the morning.

      Swinging her legs off the bed, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A quick peek into Emma’s room assured her that the baby was sleeping soundly. Finger-combing her hair, Holly grabbed her phone and slipped into the tennis shoes by the back door.

      “Are you leaving?” Amanda mumbled, half-asleep but still glued to the television.

      “Couldn’t sleep. Just going to take a walk. Have my cell if you need me.”

      “’Kay.”

      Holly stepped outside and began jogging toward the main barn. If he wasn’t there, at least she could run off some restless energy. But if he was there, she didn’t want to waste a second that she could be spending with him.

      The night air was cool to her skin with a hint of moisture. The creatures of the night continued to chirp as she jogged down the path, across the bridge and onto the main ranch road. She passed the driveway to the big house and finally reached the barn on the far rise.

      The large outside double doors were open. The center hall had been swept as usual and there was no sign of anyone inside other than the current four-legged residents. She took a quick peek into the office. Finding it empty, she ventured down the hall, glancing inside the grain and tack rooms. No sign of Chance. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment. She turned around and started walking back the way she’d come when she heard a sound. It sounded like a snore. She stopped. After a few seconds, there it was again. It was coming from the far end of the building. Curious, she headed that direction. Sure enough, in the open area on the left, intended for keeping a monthly supply of hay for the horses that were stalled, two long muscled legs were propped up on a bale of hay. As she stepped closer, she knew it was Chance. He was sound asleep, his hat pulled down over his eyes. She should just go and let him sleep.

      She really should.

      She chewed her bottom lip and glanced at the stacks of baled silage. He could always go back to sleep. This was too good to pass up. Pulling a foot-long strand of hay from a nearby bale, she checked to make sure it had the dried seedpod on one end before slowly creeping toward him. Crouching on her knees, she reached out and touched the wispy end of the straw against his nose. He stirred and batted at his face. Holly had to work hard to stifle a giggle as she reached out again.

      In less time than it took to blink he grabbed her arm, propelled her over his body and down onto the hay with him on top, one hand around her throat, the other holding her hands above her head.

      Time stopped. His face was mere inches from hers, his look fierce, his eyes hard and deadly. She didn’t know if she should try to speak or just remain absolutely still. She’d heard of soldiers with PTSD having bad nightmares. СКАЧАТЬ