Someone dangerous did.
Shaking his head and ready to read her the riot act, he entered the cabin and dropped his suitcase on the couch. The one-room cabin had an open floor plan. Only the bathroom at the rear of the house had a door, and it was closed. He heard the faint whir of running water and deduced she was taking a shower.
Never one to go into battle without a little recon, he took advantage of the chance to gather intel. The opened suitcase on the bed caught his eye. He stepped closer and poked through the contents. His fingers brushed something lacy, and he swallowed hard. He pushed aside the dress in the way and found the sheer boy shorts he had touched.
Though he had gotten his hands on plenty of panties in his twenty-seven years, he hadn't ever felt any as delicate as these. They were expensive and elegant.
Just like her.
He tried not to imagine the pale sea blue lace cupping her bottom or her dark brown skin peeking through the lacy bits, but he failed miserably. Heat shot through him, and he hurriedly shoved aside her undies before his thoughts turned too dirty.
A quiver of guilt pierced his chest as he rifled through her bag. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, really. As far as he knew, Jamie had never been into anything dangerous like drugs, but if the Facebook posts she had been sharing with Peyton were any indication, she had been spending a lot of time traveling south of the border and sailing around the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean.
There were only a handful of reasons for a girl like Jamie to be down there so much, and he didn't like any of them. He didn't want to think she was holed up here in the cabin because she was running from trouble of that variety, but his years in spec-ops had taught him never to assume anything. One photo, in particular, flashed in his mind. He had been taken aback by the smiling faces of Jamie and Hector Salas, a known enforcer for one of the Mexican cartels, kicked back on a beach and enjoying a beer. The thought of her dating a man like that soured his gut something awful.
Not finding any clues that might help him understand why a young woman with all the money in the world would choose this sparsely furnished, out-of-the-way cabin to hide, Leland moved into the kitchen area to check out the food situation. He opened the refrigerator and frowned. Two bottles of wine, a half dozen eggs, and a small wedge of buttery yellow cheese from Jolene's specialty market and cafe in town were the only things inside. He glanced at the counter and spotted four big, flaky croissants from the bakery and two small bananas. From the small amount of shopping Jamie had done, it was obvious she didn't plan to stay long or eat much.
As he checked the pantry situation, he heard the shower shut off. He shoved aside the sealed jar of peanut butter and the boxes of unopened crackers to find three cans of soup. He crouched down to check the bottom shelf where his dad usually kept a case of beer, but found it empty. Annoyed, he closed the door and considered driving back into town for a six-pack. He had a feeling that he was going to need a cold one to get through the night.
A door squeaked, and the floorboards creaked under the weight of Jamie's feet. Using the stealth that had gotten him out of more tricky situations than he cared to count, he quietly crossed the kitchen area. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jamie in nothing but a towel, shiny beads of water still glistening on her skin. The damp white cotton clung to her supple body, hinting at the womanly curves hidden beneath it.
With her back turned to him, he allowed himself the chance to get a good, long look at the woman who had tormented his dreams. She was close enough now that he could smell the cherry and almond hints of the lotion and soap she preferred. He would never admit it to anyone, ever, but he had tracked down the brand in a high-end shop while looking for a gift for his mother.
One sniff, and he had been transported back to that Christmas Eve night and that kiss. He'd put the bottle back on the shelf—and then promptly snatched it back. Sometimes, in moments of sheer weakness, he opened the bottle of lotion and breathed in the comforting scent. He let himself think of how things might have been, if she hadn't crushed his heart beneath the heel of her designer pumps.
Before he could let her know that he was in the cabin, Jamie untucked the end of her towel and let it fall. He wasn't about to pass up the chance to ogle her impossibly perfect backside, but he didn't want to be a total lecher about it. Certain he was about to feel her wrath, he loudly cleared his throat.
Startled, Jamie screamed and spun around, all in the same moment. Throwing her arms out as she whirled, she clipped the lamp on the bedside table and sent it crashing to the floor. The ceramic shattered and sent shards flying everywhere. When her panicked gaze locked onto his face, Jamie's expression turned to one of sheer fury. She pointed a beautifully manicured finger at him. "You!"
He realized she was going to take a step toward him, but couldn't act fast enough. "No! Jamie, the lamp!"
But it was too late. Her small foot crashed down on a shard, and she yelped.
Without a moment's hesitation, he crossed the space between them in quick, easy strides and swept her up into his arms. It wasn't until he gazed down at Jamie's bewitching face that he realized he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. He was holding the woman of his dreams—and she was stark naked in his arms.
The very last thing Jamie Pearson had expected to find out here in this remote cabin was Leland freaking Gates. The sandy-haired warrior was supposed to be halfway around the world doing insanely heroic things, not bursting through the front door of his family's cabin to scare her half to death. She was going to thump Peyton so hard the next time she saw her. Everything about this disastrous run-in with her teenaged crush had the mark of a setup by her best friend.
Of course, her irritation with Peyton faded some when she felt those steely arms of Leland's cradling her body. He held her close to his chest, the heat of him seeping into her and warming her naked skin. The masculine scent of him, the cedar and sandalwood notes that drove her crazy, intoxicated her. The jolt of adrenaline she had experienced from discovering someone else in the cabin left her a bit shaky, but her heart was racing for a totally different reason now.
Her reaction to the dangerously handsome SEAL frustrated her. Teenaged crushes weren't supposed to last this long, but her feelings for Leland had never faded. She had tried to forget him and replace him, but she had failed miserably. That kiss—that perfect, passionate kiss—had rocked her world.
But he had shattered her self-confidence when he had thrown her out of his room. If she hadn't gotten sidetracked with Tanny's drama, she might have been brave enough to climb up the tree outside Leland's bedroom to crawl in through his window and force him to speak to her. Instead, she had been forced to sneak home before her mother realized she had been out all night.
By the time she had managed to get away from the depressing spectacle of her mother boozing it up over a badly scorched Christmas ham to bring over presents for Peyton's family, she had earned only scowls and growls from Leland. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that he was mad at her for taking advantage of his drunken state. He was all about honor and integrity and the most stand-up guy she had ever known. Kissing her wasn't illegal or anything, but it skirted close to a few questionable lines, especially since she was his kid sister's best friend.
So she had spent the rest of that winter holiday break humiliated and feeling lower than dirt. The worst part was that she hadn't been able to get over her crush as easily as he had discarded her. Jamie wasn't used to being denied what she wanted, and all she had ever wanted was Leland Gates.
And now here he was, cradling her in his strong arms and carrying her toward the bed. He placed her down carefully, and pulled a pillow over to cradle her throbbing foot. After thrusting the towel at her, he pointed a stern finger in her direction. "Don’t move."
She had never been the type of woman who took orders, but her entire body thrummed with an illicit thrill when Leland gave one. She could only nod and wrap the towel around her naked body. Her face flamed at the idea of him seeing her without a stitch of clothing.
Leaning back on her palms, she ignored the pulsing ache in her foot and watched him make quick work of cleaning up the ruined lamp with a dust pan and broom he had fetched from the space between the refrigerator and wall. When he was finished, he dumped the ceramic pieces in the trash and ducked into the bathroom. He returned with a damp washcloth, a towel, a pair of tweezers and a first aid kit.
Leland started to crouch down, but winced. He stiffly but quickly rose to his full height. His voice was hard as he gestured to the headboard. "Move up there."
She scooted to the spot he had indicated. "Are you hurt?"
His jaw twitched. "It's nothing."
"You're lying."
He didn't meet her gaze as he clasped her ankle and slipped the pillow underneath it. Silently, he placed the towel on the bed and put the first aid kit and tweezers on top of it. Finally, he admitted, "I was thrown down two flights of stairs and twisted my knee. It's a bit finicky still."
Finicky? Only Leland would describe something so terrible so breezily. "Two flights of stairs?" She couldn't believe he was still walking. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"Why do you think I'm here?" He shot her an irritated look, his baby blue eyes glinting with frustration. "I flew out here to get some peace and quiet."
Feeling guilty for ruining his plans, she bit her lower lip. She hated to be such a disappointment to him. She'd gotten used to being her mother's disappointment but from Leland, the only person in the world she had ever wanted to impress? It was almost too much.
Quietly, she said, "If you'll let me stay the night, I'll clear out in the morning once my car is out of the shop."
"You're not leaving." Leland grabbed the tweezers and cupped her heel against his palm.
"But—"
"You're staying here."
She didn't want to argue with him. Staying close to Leland was the safest option for her right now. Her stomach knotted painfully as she considered telling him the reason she had run out here to lay low, but she could just imagine the blowup that would occur. Not wanting him to be mad at her just yet, she kept her trap shut.
"This is going to hurt." His grip tightened on her heel. "Just hold still and let me do what needs to be done. It's quicker that way."
She swallowed nervously and nodded. "All right."
The tip of the tweezers prodded a sensitive spot on her sole, and she cringed. As if he wanted to keep her mind off the pain, Leland made small talk. "Why is your car in the shop?"
"I hit a pallet on the way into town. Thankfully, I had cell service out there. I managed to find the number for the only auto shop for fifty miles."
"Did George come out to get you with his tow truck?"
"Yes. He was kind enough to bring me out here, too."
"He's a nice guy." The tweezers grabbed the shard embedded in her foot. "Hang on, sugar."
Leland's warning didn't register, but the tender name he had used sure did. She barely felt the sliver of ceramic sliding out of her foot. Sugar? He had never called her anything so sweet, not in all the years she'd known him.
"There." He held up the piece for her inspection. "I'll get this clean and bandaged, and we're all done."
"Thank you."
"It was my fault you hurt yourself." He dabbed at her foot with an antiseptic wipe. "I should have knocked on the bathroom door to let you know I was here." Placing the wipe on the towel, he kept his gaze fixed on her foot. "I shouldn't have let you drop that towel, and I definitely shouldn't have stared. It wasn't right."
There weren't many men who would apologize for something like that. The fact that Leland did only proved how truly one-of-a-kind he was. Tummy trembling, she found the courage to be brazen. "Did you like what you saw?"
His head snapped up at that. Never one to lie, he answered in a voice that was suspiciously deeper. Lust sparked in his eyes. "Yes."
Her belly wobbled at his confirmation. He was close to her now, closer than he had been in months. Her skin prickled with excitement. Afraid she might not have the chance to touch him again, she found the courage to reach out and stroke his cheek. The short, wiry hair covering his skin prickled her fingers. "You grew a beard again."
"It's nothing like the one I had a few years back." It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn he leaned into her touch. His hand moved toward her, but he hesitated. His fingers flexed twice before he wound some of her springy curls around them. "You cut your hair."
"A few weeks ago," she said.
"I know."
She cocked her head to the side. "How?"
He let his hand drop and resumed doctoring her foot. "You tagged Peyton in that Facebook photo of the two of you having dinner and dancing."
Smiling, she lightly smacked his muscular forearm. "Stalker!"
He snorted. "If I wanted to stalk you, I wouldn't use Facebook, and you'd never know I was keeping tabs on you."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Keeping tabs on me?" She held her breath as she waited for the answer.
Instead of answering her question, he pressed a bandage to the bottom of her foot and placed a strip of athletic tape over it to keep it in place. "Keep this dry until tomorrow. We'll put some more antibiotic ointment on it in the morning."
He gathered up the mess on the bed and stood. When he disappeared into the bathroom, she carefully slid off the bed and tested a little weight on her foot. It hurt a bit, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She plucked undies, yoga pants and a slim-fitting tee from her luggage, but noticed one of her dresses had been moved. Glancing back at the bathroom door, she found Leland watching her. The predatory look in his eyes made her shiver. "Did you go through my bag?"
"Yes."