It was supposed to be a month in a cottage by the lake in Maine. For Peyton Gerard it was time to recover from not one but three disastrous breakups and try to find her muse again. A successful romance novelist needed to believe in romance to write about it believably, and Peyton had lost her faith in it.
For Dixon “Dix” Amendola it was supposed to be time to rehab his injured thigh from a SEALs mission that fell apart, to mourn the two team members who were killed and to deal with his guilt. Learning the mission had been compromised did nothing to ease the burden of blame he carried.
The problem: the cottage had been rented to both of them by accident.
Put two stubborn people in close quarters—a hot SEAL and a an appealing author, add in moonlit nights by the lake and suddenly they don’t mind sharing. But then reality intruded, Dix returned to lead a repeat of the mission and all Peyton could do was pray it was successful and that when he returned, he’d come back to her.
He rounded a curve in the dirt road just as his GPS announced, “Your destination is on the left.” The outside of the place was exactly as he’d seen it in the photo on line. The boat Eileen had told him about was already tied up at the little short dock. The soft breeze that drifted in through his open window carried the fresh scents and sounds of the area and were instantly soothing to him.
What was jarring was the car parked on the so-called grass next to the cottage. What the fuck? He hoped it wasn’t a nosy neighbor just waiting to give him an eager welcome. Socializing wasn’t on his to-do list. He pulled in next to the car and grumpily opened the door and got out. He was just looking around to see where the owner of the car might be when the side door opened and a woman popped out.
Okay, maybe woman was too mild a term. She looked like a miniature lush goddess. If he’d been the least bit interested in female companion right now he’d think maybe his day as looking up. This one couldn’t be more than five five, with hair in a rich-looking shade of red framing a heart-shaped face. The curls bounced around her head in wild curls, in time, he noticed with her breasts that bounced beneath her tee shirt. The strap of a cross-body purse lay in the valley between those breasts, emphasizing their roundness. Shorts accentuated nicely rounded hips and when she turned to pull the door shut tightly behind her he got a view of an ass that his hands itched to cup.
Whoa there, mister. This is a no-sex time out. Reconditioning, not relaxation. Maybe he should tell that to his cock that suddenly wanted to make it’s own appearance and deliver a greeting. It was sending him a very painful message that took all his famous discipline to control.
“Are you the housekeeper?” he asked. He didn’t even know if Eileen had told him there’d be one, but who else would be here, and with a key?
“Housekeeper?” She stared at him. “Not quite. Who are you?”
He took a moment to note that her face was free of makeup and that he doubted it needed any to enhance it. Emerald green eyes peered out from beneath lashes thicker than an manufacturer could produce. Her cheeks held a faint rosy tinge and he noticed a smattering of freckles. And that mouth—
Yup. Good thing he was on a no sex diet. He had one goal to accomplish here and he couldn’t afford to be detracted.
“I’m the tenant. I rented this place for the next month.”
“No. Wrong answer.” She shook her head vehemently. “You must be in the wrong place. I rented this place for the next month.”
Where can you find me?