Sara Stone - Full Exposure

But Katie Summers had always been there for her. She didn’t pretend to understand what Georgia had been through, and she knew Georgia had a crush on Eric that dated back to junior high.

“Katie?” she said when her friend answered. “It’s Georgia. I have a few hours before I pick Nate up. Feel like saddling your horses?”

Her friend agreed and Georgia felt a rush of relief. She needed this—girl time—someone to talk to, not about the war, but about boys.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Georgia mounted a bay quarter horse mare named Sugar. Katie rode beside her in silence until they were away from the barn and Katie’s three older brothers, who ran Summers Family Trucking from the offices connected to the horses’ home. Once they were out of earshot, heading for the wide-open field, Katie turned to her. “Want to talk about it?”

“I sort of hooked up with Eric,” Georgia said quickly.

“Eric, Eric?” Katie’s green eyes widened. “Explain ‘sort of.’”

Kissing and telling had never been her thing. What she’d shared with Eric had been kinky, but to her, it was also special and private. “We did things that if my brother found out, he’d start throwing punches.”

“Oh, this sounds good.” Katie’s eyes sparkled and her red curls bounced. “I’d love to do something with a man that would have my brothers throwing punches.”

“I thought you were dating that guy from Portland,” Georgia said, gently nudging her mount to keep up with Katie’s horse.

“I was, but my brothers liked him too much.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Always. He started spending more time shooting pool and drinking beer when he came to visit than doing anything that would cause my brothers to lose their tempers. The best ones are always the guys who leave your brothers spoiling for a fight. Trust me,” Katie said. “But we’re not talking about me now. Tell me more about Eric.”

“Nothing more to tell. We talked about it this morning and decided it can never happen again.”

Katie drew her horse to an abrupt stop. “Why not?”

“I work for him, Liam’s his friend, I’m his friend—take your pick.” Georgia stared at the jagged Cascade Mountains in the distance. Somewhere out there a fire burned, threatening everything in its path, including Eric and her brother.

“Oh, and he thinks I just wanted a bit of excitement,” she added.

“I’ve always thought Eric looked exciting.”

Georgia let out a mirthless laugh. “He is. Believe me, he is. But he’s also dangerous. Emotionally.”

“Afraid you’ll get attached and he won’t?”

“Something like that.” She was scared to death she’d hand over her heart, and with it, her only sense of security. Falling for him—it would strip away her strength and her independence. “But now I have to live in the same house with him.”

“Quit,” Katie said with a shrug. “Find another job. The man has gobs of money. He can find another nanny in a heartbeat.”

“I can’t do that to Nate. I can’t just disappear on the kid. But seeing Eric every day . . . I’m not sure I can do that either.”

“And you’re sure you can’t ‘sort of hook up’ with him again?”

“It’s complicated,” she said. “Liam is his best friend. And Eric thinks he’ll be furious if he found out. I don’t want to damage their friendship.”

Katie shook her head. “Brothers. They always stick their noses where they don’t belong. But Liam is a big boy. You and Eric are both adults, free to make your own decisions. If you want a relationship with Eric, I say go for it.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it.” Saying those words out loud felt as if she’d forgotten a piece of body armor, leaving a part of herself exposed.

“Oh, please. You’ve had a thing for Eric for as long as I’ve known you. Have you stopped to think that maybe you owe it to yourself after all you’ve been through to explore this thing between you? If he hooked up with you despite what I’m guessing is a pretty long list of reasons not to, it’s obvious he’s attracted to you. But it doesn’t have to be deep and emotional. Just have fun. And for goodness’ sake, you don’t have to tell Liam unless it turns serious. Believe me, your brother doesn’t need to know about every man in your life.”

The words sank in. Running away from what she wanted because of a few obstacles was the coward’s way out. She might be scared of what Eric made her feel, but she refused to be weak.

THE FIRE RAGED for two days. Eric returned home to take Nate to preschool in the mornings and grab a quick shower, but otherwise he lived at the base camp, watching as the flames destroyed the trees he’d cared for most of his life. It was gut-wrenching to witness, especially knowing the lives of his crew, the firefighters, and surrounding community hung in the balance. Finally, thanks to the herculean efforts of the men who’d worked by his side around the clock to cut the line, it was over. The fire was out. It had claimed acres of trees, but no lives or homes were lost. And it was time to go home.

After the last of his crew left and the base camp was cleared, Eric climbed into the company truck he’d kept on-site. The midday sun glared through the windshield as he drove home. He pulled into his garage and climbed down from the truck. Every muscle in his body begged for sleep. He could probably catch an hour’s shut-eye if Nate was still napping. But first he had to make a few calls. He’d been ignoring his other projects while the fire burned.

Eric opened the door to the house and froze. The counters, the floor, every available surface was covered with flour and cooking utensils. It looked as if a misguided Goldilocks had ransacked his kitchen. And she was still here, standing in the middle of the room with her back to him. Topless. Aside from her purple and black lace bra.

Shit. He didn’t need this, not when he was too tired to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t reach out and remove her underwear. Eric shoved his hands in his pockets and focused his attention on the floor.

“Georgia, what happened to your shirt?” He tried for the same tone he used to address Nate when he’d left his toy trains on the stairs. Tried and failed. The words came out heavy with wanting.

She spun around, a mixing bowl in one hand and wooden spoon in the other. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and began unlacing his work boots, doing his best to keep his eyes on his shoes, the flour-covered floor, anywhere but on his topless nanny.

“The fire’s out?” she asked.

He nodded, setting his boots to the side. “It’s over.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No.”

He heard the soft sound of her bare feet on the wooden floorboards and looked up. Her jeans were covered in equal parts flour and what looked like chocolate frosting. His gaze traveled higher. Chocolate trailed across her abdomen to under her left breast. It took all his self-control not to pull her over and lick her clean.

She stepped closer.

“Georgia,” he said. It was a warning.

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding.” She set the bowl on the table and reached for his right arm.

Eric winced. “It’s just a scratch.”

His entire body hurt. So much, he’d forgotten about the cut on his right bicep. Now, thanks to her proximity and the chocolate begging to be eaten off her bare skin, his lower body ached in a way that had nothing to do with forty-eight hours of backbreaking work. No, this discomfort had everything to do with the chocolate-covered, shirtless woman standing too damn close.

“What happened?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” he said, pointedly looking around the kitchen. Ingredients, in containers and out, covered the marble counters. Every bowl he owned was piled in the sink. “You still haven’t told me how you lost your shirt.”

She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts upward. His reasons for keeping his hands off her fled the room. One lick. There was no harm in that right? He’d already seen a lot more than her chocolate-covered stomach.

“You first,” she said. “You’re bleeding.”

Eric sighed and closed his eyes. “I was trying to move out of the path of a falling tree and a branch grazed my arm.” He’d gotten sloppy, but he refused to admit that to Georgia. She could probably figure it out. She was born and raised around loggers. “It looks worse than it is. The cut isn’t deep.”

“You should put something on it.”

“I’ll clean it up when I shower.” He eyed the path of chocolate again. “Your turn. What happened in here?”

“Nate needs to bring a snack to school tomorrow morning. One of the teachers suggested muffins. Nate wanted cupcakes. So we compromised on banana bread muffins with chocolate frosting.” She looked around the room as if she hadn’t realized the extent of the mess until he’d started questioning her. “I thought I’d make them while he napped and we could frost them together. You know, less mess that way. Without the toddler helping.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“I know. More is hard to imagine. I don’t have a lot of experience with baking. Not in a kitchen like this.” She waved at his state-of-the-art cooking space filled with stainless steel appliances. The best money could buy. Like her, he had no clue what to do with any of it. His family had been one step above Liam and Georgia’s on the middle-class ladder, but they’d never had money to spend on fancy kitchen gadgets.

“Did you know you have two mixers?” she continued.

“No, I didn’t. Marie handles the cooking,” he said, referring to the cook/housekeeper who’d worked for him since he built the house five years earlier. He managed breakfast, or relied on Georgia, but Marie prepared everything else.

“Today is Thursday, Marie’s day off,” Georgia said. “So turning to her for help wasn’t an option.”

“Why didn’t you grab something at the store?”

She picked the mixing bowl up from the table and turned back to the mess on the counter. “I thought it was important that Nate bring something homemade. The other kids, they all have moms to make their snacks.”

Her words tore into him, cutting deeper than the scratch on his arm. Georgia might be struggling to deal with her issues in her own stubborn way, but she was trying her best for his nephew.

“Thank you.” It was all he could manage. The emotions—gratitude, desire, grief—added to his exhaustion and overloaded his senses.

She nodded. “I’ll clean up the mess. I promise. After I get these in the oven.”

“Marie can tackle cleanup in the morning,” he said. “Just put on a shirt. The crew will be here soon. We’re having a cookout this afternoon for my guys and some of the firefighters. It starts in two hours.”

Eric headed for the door, not waiting for her response. He needed to get out of here. A kind, caring, and half-naked woman spelled trouble. One more minute in this kitchen and he might forget that he couldn’t touch her.

GEORGIA WEAVED THROUGH the crowd of men, careful to avoid Eric. Her palms grew clammy, and warning bells went off in her head. There were too many people between the house and the pond. Her damaged mind equated crowds with danger, an increased threat of attack.

In Afghanistan.

But she wasn’t there. Not anymore. She knew that. Still, shaking the fear—it wasn’t easy.

Her breaths became short and shallow. She wanted to escape, but Nate was running around, playing with one of the guys’ golden retriever. The men had all tossed back a few beers, and with the pond so close, she wanted to be the one watching Nate. She headed for the edge of the green lawn down near the pond. From here, she could see Nate and run to him if he approached the water. And she could breathe again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eric break away from a group of men. She abruptly turned and stepped off the cleared, green lawn and into the wood area at its edge. She could still track Nate’s movements and hear the crowd. But she wouldn’t have to make small talk with Eric and his buddies. Not when she was still wishing she’d kept her shirt on and her mouth shut in his kitchen.

She’d been so focused on making the perfect muffin from scratch that she’d hadn’t given a second thought to stripping off her T-shirt when she spilled batter down her front. Then he’d walked in, catching her off guard. To make a bad situation worse, she’d spoken without thinking. Her words had pushed on his grief. He’d come home tired and injured. The last thing he’d needed from her was a reminder of his sister’s death and all Nate had lost. But that was exactly what she’d given him.