The man did crazy-good things to her…
Macy had no desire for anything complicated. As long as they were discreet, no one in town would know. Friends with benefits. She’d never really had one of those.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She blinked and realized she had been staring at Blake. “Uh… you’re very handsome.”
That sly grin spread across his face. “Okay.”
He turned back to the computer, but continued to grin. He knew.
“You do bad, bad things to me, Mr Marine.” The grin grew bigger.
“I haven’t touched you,” he said, his eyes still staring at the screen.
“Oh, but you don’t even have to,” she whispered. Maybe she had had one too many glasses of wine with the dinner. The room was too warm…
That made him turn.
“Ms Reynolds, are you coming on to me?”
“Yes, sir. I believe I am… So what are you going to do about it?”
Her Last Best Fling
Candace Havens
Award-winning author and columnist CANDACE “CANDY” HAVENS lives in Texas with her mostly understanding husband, two children and three dogs, Harley, Elvis and Gizmo. Candy is a nationally syndicated entertainment columnist for FYI Television. She has interviewed just about everyone in Hollywood, from George Clooney and Orlando Bloom to Nicole Kidman and Kate Beckinsale. Her popular online writer’s workshop has more than two thousand students and provides free classes to professional and aspiring writers. Visit her website at www.candacehavens.com.
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For those in the military
and police and fire departments,
who put their lives on the line for us every day.
Contents
1
AFTER NINE MONTHS of hell in the Middle East—stuck in a hot, dark cave—Blake Michaels welcomed the deluge pounding his windshield. Heavy rain might keep the curious townsfolk from showing up at the Lion’s Club. His mom had moved the party when she discovered a good portion of Tranquil Waters wanted to be there for the hero’s return.
He was no hero.
He was a man who served his country, and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The gray, wet weather mirrored Blake’s mood. He wasn’t fond of crowds, at least since he’d returned to the States. The time away had changed him in ways he’d only begun to explore.
He appreciated the thought of a party in his honor, but being around that many people at one time was enough to give a guy the cold sweats. His doctors had promised the anxiety would eventually pass. Almost a year in solitude with only a guard, who never spoke for company, had left him with a few issues.
Once, in the hospital afterward, the nurses had found him huddled in a corner of his room. He never wanted to repeat that night.
He’d had a complete blackout, an “episode” they called it, and it scared the hell out of him. That was when he started to take the therapists more seriously.
As he came around a curve on the highway, a flash of white popped up before him. Brakes squealed as his Ford slid to a stop. His breath ragged from
