Rival Forces (4 page)

Yardley had always been a stunner, though she'd seemed not to know that when they met. Dressed most often in jeans, a tailored shirt, and military boots, her tall, lean frame had curves in all the right places. Her elegant cheekbones and full mouth held a hint of sensuality she couldn't quite hide behind her no-nonsense gaze. Eyes, blacker than his, revealed her Native American heritage. Her long dark-red hair flagged the Cajun ancestry of her father. He knew all that.

Yet something he wasn't prepared for tumbled into place as he exited the vehicle and faced her. His last memory of her, sitting on the ridge of a nearby hill while the setting sun painted her profile gold as it sank into darkness.

And then she was staring at him.

That ramrod-straight posture of hers he'd always associated with pride now struck Kye as a defense. She looked braced against all the hurts and slights and pain of the world. Had life been that hard for her? Once, yes. He knew that. But nothing he'd heard about her these last years would make him think that her life was anything less than two thumbs up. Except for her stiff stride as she came toward him. It made him want to put his arms around her. Slide a cupped hand up her spine in a soothing gesture that was also protective. He wanted, for a moment, to shield her. From what? He didn't have the slightest idea.

That protective feeling clenching his gut was as raw and immediate as it had been the day he left here, left her, a dozen years ago.

Well, hell.

Now he was the one who needed a moment.

*   *   *

Yardley watched the man emerge from his SUV. His back was to her but that didn't delay her first impression.

The stereotype was so dramatic she almost laughed. Tall. Really tall. And dark. Check and check. Handsome? She wouldn't know until he turned around. But the guy drew her eye anyway, like the gravitational pull of the moon. It wasn't only that he wore a bright-red ski parka with black shoulder patches and a large blocky white cross on his back. She recognized them as emblems of ski patrol search and rescue. A little bit out of place in Virginia.

At that moment, he pivoted.

Her first thought was that he was ridiculously gorgeous. Broad face, bold nose, and high-definition mouth. And wide eyes that managed to be open yet intimidating beneath his heavy brows. It was really too much for one man. He had the height, width, and bronze good looks of a Polynesian god. Running up hard against that thought was surprise that she recognized him after all these years.

Kye McGarren.

The shock of recognition hobbled her stride. The only man who'd ever made her believe, if only for three days, that she was in love. That was twelve years, five months, and three days ago. But damn, she wasn't about to admit she remembered it. Not to him. Most of all, not to herself.

Scowling hard, she turned her shock into a minute assessment as she approached. As if he were a K-9 she was considering buying. Yes, distance. She needed it badly.

He was bigger than he'd been a dozen years ago. The sexy lean physique of twenty-four had filled out impressively, if his jacket size was any indication. Gone, too, was the raw new-recruit haircut. His black hair grew in thickly on top though it was short on the sides. Crap. He was now a man in his prime. But none of that mattered. In fact, it only made her angry.

She moved purposefully toward her unwelcome guest. Oleg followed close by her side, in full K-9 mode. The ridge of hair along his spine stiffened as he sniffed the emotional surge sliding off his handler. After a few more steps, he added a soft growl.

Yardley frowned. Any other person facing Oleg should be getting very nervous by now. This man simply folded his arms, leaned back against the door of his SUV, and smiled.

Yep. Nailed it.
She still recognized that smirky
aloha
smile after all this time.

“Kye McGarren. What are you doing here?”

His smile widened. Deep curves carved in his cheeks by humor emphasized his wide, perfect mouth. She suspected he was all kinds of pleased that she'd remembered his name, and was instantly sorry she had let him know that.

“
Hau‘oli Makahiki Hou
, Ms. Summers. I wasn't sure you'd remember me.”

“Don't flatter yourself. I remember everyone.”

She looked down at Oleg. His rumble was like a cat's purr, only scary. Even her handlers weren't sure of their ability to keep the wolfdog in check. He was the kind of K-9 who might get handed from handler to handler as being “too hot” or difficult. She wasn't worried about that but didn't want to test her control with a person she didn't like. Being a jerk wasn't a crime.

“Knoze.”

Oleg complied immediately, coming to heel and going silent, yet still wary.

“Your Czech friend runs a bit hot, huh? Or is he feeding off you?”

Damn. He'd noticed her hesitation.

Yardley looked up at him, her face expressionless. Nothing and no one got to her. Everyone knew that. “Why are you here? Dressed like that.” Damn, she couldn't resist asking. Despite his ridiculous getup, his sexiness was leaking through into every pore of hers. That had to stop.

He glanced down at his board shorts and flip-flops, his smile holding. “Side trip on my way home.” He reached into the open doorway of the SUV and withdrew with an armful of dog. “But first I'd like to you meet Lily.”

She glanced at the toller and then back at him. He'd brought a dog to her. Of course. What other reason ever brought people here?

The faint disappointment stirring in her thoughts made no sense. A problem with a dog. That, she could handle. Just not today.

“Call and make an appointment. We're closed for the holidays.”

She started to walk past him.

Kye fell into step on her right side but with a respectful distance between them. “Here's the thing. I'm headed for Hawaii and I don't know when I'll be stateside again. I was at the airport when I thought I could swing by here first.”

Yardley shook her head. “My staff's on vacation.”

“There's no one here but you?”

Why was everyone suddenly so interested in her solitude? Yardley paused and glanced around, nerves tingling, as she did a perimeter search of her property in one direction and then the other. Finally her gaze came back to him. “How did you know I'd be here?”

“Who said I did? It's a bit chilly out here, isn't it? Can I come in?” He made a motion toward the house.

“No.” She made sure there was nothing iffy in her reply.

He watched her a few seconds—unable, she hoped, to read anything in her expression besides disinterest. Why was he staring at her as if she'd grown another ear?

“Then I guess I'll billet right here until I get further instructions.” He dropped his backpack—when had he picked that up?—on her porch and sat down on the first step with the toller still in his arms.

Further instructions?
What was he talking about? Yardley opened her mouth to ask but then shut it. What he did or didn't do was up to him. Not her problem.

She turned and climbed the stairs.

The front door opened before she reached it. Georgie stuck her head out. “I thought I heard voices.” Her gaze moved from Yardley to Kye, her sea-green eyes widening. Unconsciously, she reached up to brush a handful of bed-head red curls back from her face. “Oh, you have company.”

“He's not staying.” Yardley stepped closer to the door, cutting off her friend's view of Kye, and gave her a squinty stare that said
Back off
.

Unfortunately, her friend ignored her.

“Um, Yard, I'm dying for coffee.” Georgie gave Kye the once-over, her bright gaze lingering maybe a fraction too long for simple curiosity. “You look like you could use a cup, too.”

He popped up from the step, giving Georgie his best laid-back surfer-dude smile. “I've give my left nut for a cup.”

Yardley moved to square off against him as he came forward. It felt strange to be dwarfed by any man. He was bigger in every way. “I don't allow strangers in my house.”

“Then let's not be strangers.” Kye turned to Georgie and held out his hand. “Kye McGarren. Co-owner of Bolt Action Rescue K-9 Service out of Honolulu, Hawaii.”

“Oh.” Georgie's expression went blank for a second as she glanced at Yardley.

That's when Yardley realized she'd thought Kye was David Gunnar. Before she could make it clear that Kye wasn't welcome, Georgie's green eyes lit up with mischief. “I'm Georgiana Flynn. And you're our First Footer.”

Yardley stared at her friend. “What are you talking about?”

“Hogmanay,” Kye and Georgie answered together then grinned at each other.

Georgie spoke first. “Scottish tradition says that the first person to cross the threshold on New Year's Day determines the homeowner's luck for the year. The best First Footer to have is a tall, dark-haired man.”

Yardley scowled. “You're Irish.”

“McGarren sounds Scots.” She grabbed Kye's arm and pushed him toward the door. “Welcome, First Footer.”

As he passed Yardley, Kye paused and offered her a smile so wide she felt the warmth of it curl in her stomach. Then he reached up and flicked her headband. “Nice bow. It's so you.”

“That's what I thought.” Georgie winked at Yardley, letting her know it was a gag.

Lips firmly pressed together, Yardley watched her traitorous friend follow Kye in. Only when they were inside did she reach up and snatch the bow off her head and stuff it in her pocket. She could take a joke. She so could. But what had she done to the universe that it required that Kye McGarren return to her life?

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Yardley stood uneasily just inside her front door, feeling as if she were the unwelcome stranger. Georgie had moved into the center of the room, her hand still on McGarren's arm, chatting like they were old friends. She'd never seen her friend so animated with a man. Not even with Brad. With Brad she smoldered, a quiet but intense burn. A very private fire for very private emotions. Right now, Georgie was practically giddy. Maybe she was still high from last night's champagne.

“Don't you have somewhere you need to be?” Yardley gave Georgie a meaningful look as she made a wide arch past McGarren, being careful to keep Oleg a respectful distance from the toller he now had on a leash.

“I'm packed. I've got an hour. How about some coffee, Yard?”

“After I feed Oleg.” She disappeared into the kitchen, needing a moment to compose herself before her anger got the better of her. She set up the doggy gate to keep Oleg in the kitchen. It was strictly a reminder. He could jump it with ease.

Yardley's zipper made an angry
zzzzt
sound as she yanked her jacket open. McGarren had no business being here. And Georgie was no friend to do this to her.

When she had wrestled off her jacket, she closed her eyes, reaching for that inner peace she chased twice a week at a yoga class. But after only a few seconds she realized she was straining to hear every word coming from the other room.

As she reached for the bag of dog food she heard Georgie say, “And who is this pretty pup?”

“Her name's Lily. You two have the ginger coloring in common. I hope you don't mind me saying that.”

“Oh no. I've been compared to worse things.”

Yardley rolled her eyes. Georgiana Flynn hated people making remarks about her red hair, or calling her “Ginger” or “Annie.” Right now she was acting like the worst kind of fan girl.
I've been compared to worse things. Pul-eeese!

She bent to fill Oleg's food bowl, but the wolfdog began noisily lapping water. Her gaze swerved back toward the doorway, wishing he would stop but knowing Oleg needed to drink after their run. After a few moments, the sloshing stopped and she could hear again.

“—the cutest thing,” she heard Georgie say.

“Lily can seem a bit reserved but secretly, she loves attention. Take all the photos you want.”

“No. Stay in the frame. The shots are better with you two interacting.”

Yardley felt the urge to growl as she moved to dump fresh coffee beans into her pot only to realize Georgie had already made fresh coffee. The girl had lied to get that man inside her house.
Can't trust anyone.

Belatedly, she gave Oleg the signal that he could eat.

In his hungry surge to clean the aluminum bowl in a single gulp, Oleg knocked it over and sent chucks of dog food skidding across the floor. He made so much noise chasing after and scarfing up the pieces that Yardley had to step to the doorway in order to continue to eavesdrop.

“—nice. Yes. Good. You're a natural. Did you know Harmonie Kennels does a studmuffin calendar of dogs and their handlers?”

Oh hell no!

Yardley bolted through the doorway. “Georgie.”

Georgie looked back to see her host's disapproving expression, but it didn't shut her down. “I was just telling Mr. McGarren he's perfect for Harmonie Kennels' next Hot Handlers and Cool K-9s calendar. Unless he's a total dough boy underneath that jacket.” Georgie looked back at Kye, mischief in her gaze. “Are you a total dough boy? I need to know. Strictly for professional purposes.”

Kye grinned as he glanced at Yardley. “How about a few audition shots?”

“Let's do it.”

“Not here.” Yardley's voice had gone all drill-sergeant-loud. She couldn't help it. She didn't want this man posing in her house. Certainly not half naked. Make that
abso-fuckin'-lutely
not! “You hated doing the calendar, Georgie. You said you'd never do it again.”

Georgie ignored her. “Over by the Christmas tree. Lily, too. Oh yes, nice.” He had shrugged off his parka to reveal a navy-blue Henley tucked into his board shorts. “You should know, Mr. McGarren, the calendar raised one hundred thousand dollars nationwide for training K-9s for law enforcement departments that can't afford them. That's why I'm thinking about doing the second one. I certainly hope you can qualify.” She moved toward him, and then her nose twitched and she paused. “Oh.”