LITMIR.BIZ

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that brought out memories he’d tried to forget.

      Like Maggie. And the way she’d felt in his arms with her mouth soft against his.

      “So you’re officially still in the military?” Maggie asked.

      He nodded. “I’m here to sell Gran’s house.”

      “You’re leaving soon, then,” she said.

      “Probably.”

      Did he see relief in her eyes? Why would she care if he stayed or left? She had once, but that was a long time ago. He hadn’t intended to look her up while he was in town. As he’d passed by earlier, hidden in the milling crowd, he’d spotted her bright-red curls. Speaking to her had been the furthest thing from his mind, but something about her had drawn him like a beacon. She was a beckoning spot of color in his black, white and gray world.

      Was it her hair, the shade of stub born ness? Her huge eyes—not quite green or brown, but with flecks of gold tossed into the mix. Maybe it was that tempting little body any red-blooded man would yearn to hold. She was compact and curvy. And her snug white T-shirt with the rodeo logo didn’t hide much. He hadn’t missed the way she’d crossed her arms over her chest earlier. It was the first time in a long time he was grateful he had an eye for detail.

      What had compelled him to walk over to say hello? Maybe the way she caught her full bottom lip between her teeth—he remembered she did that when she was nervous—and she was doing it now. But none of the above explained why a man trained to endure and deflect interrogation had felt compelled to answer a little girl’s questions. Not one training session had included techniques on resisting a child with big blue eyes and her mother’s curls.

      “Where did you go?” Faith asked him.

      With an effort he pulled his thoughts from Maggie’s sweet little shape and full sexy mouth to look at the girl. “Hmm?”

      “You said you’ve been gone. Where?”

      He stuck his fingertips into the pockets of his denims. “Every where.”

      Maggie turned a stern look on the girl. “Faith, the rodeo is almost over. I need you to help me pack up. Then it’s home for you and bed.”

      “But, Mo-om, I’m not ready.”

      “I don’t recall asking if you were ready. It’s time to go.”

      “But school’s out.”

      “I have to work tomorrow. And you’ve got to go to camp.”

      Jack wanted to tell the kid to just do it. In the army, a soldier never argued with a direct order. But this wasn’t the military. Civilian life made him feel like a hick at a tea party.

      Faith kicked the dirt and defiantly looked at her mother. “But I didn’t get to thank Jack yet. He saved my life.”

      That reminded him. Right after he’d plucked her out of the stock pen, the kid had said something odd. “What are ‘dire consequences’?” he asked her mother.

      “What?” Maggie looked at him as if he had two heads. “I think you know what the words mean.”

      “Yeah. But what specifically. When I picked her up, she saw you and said it was time to suffer dire con sequences.”

      Maggie laughed, a merry, musical, sound that bumped up against his ice-cold soul. He swore he could almost hear the sound of breaking glass, and the sensation of fresh, cool air against his hot skin. He must be losing his mind—along with the rest of himself.

      Amused, Maggie shook her head. “The last thing I said to her was that if she didn’t stay within sight of the booth, she was going to suffer dire consequences,” she explained.

      “So what is that?” he asked. Just curious, he told himself. It wasn’t like he felt any sympathy for the kid. He’d just met her. And she’d argued with a direct order from her commanding officer. He supposed that was normal for a kid. But he wouldn’t know about that; he didn’t do the kid thing.

      But he did do consequences and he’d seen too many since he’d left Destiny. Enough to last him two life times. Pain, suffering and death. He could never forget. He couldn’t help wondering what this beautiful, innocent little girl considered dire—as far as consequences in her safe world were concerned.

      “I haven’t decided yet.” Maggie met his gaze as she caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth—again. She was pretty nervous about something, he thought. “But thanks for reminding me.”

      “I couldn’t have reminded you if Faith hadn’t mentioned it,” he pointed out. He was trying to help the kid while at the same time struggling to ignore the way Maggie’s nervous habit made him want to taste her mouth.

      Would she cut the kid some slack for voluntarily bringing it up? What kind of disciplinarian was she? He’d heard that when people who broke the rules as kids had kids of their own, they tended to act like a dictator trying to prevent a military takeover. He remembered teenage Maggie sneaking out to meet him. She’d been a good kid and he’d been her walk on the wild side. Her chance at defiance. But it had meant a lot to him. It was personal. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made a loner like him personal.

      They’d gone to the same high school, and both rodeoed. Her parents had for bid den her to see him because of his bad-boy reputation. They’d been right, but that hadn’t stopped stubborn, hard headed Maggie Benson. And he still couldn’t help being glad about that. Did Maggie’s daughter take after her? Or her father?

      That pulled him up short as a lassoed calf. Who was Faith’s father?

      The question stirred something inside him, the ashes of feelings that had burned out a long time ago.

      Maggie put her hands on her hips. “Faith Elizabeth, go stay with Jensen Stevens until I come and get you. If you don’t—”

      “I know,” the girl mumbled, digging the toe of her grungy white sneaker into the red dirt. “Dire con sequences.”

      “That’s right,” Maggie con firmed. “Don’t make me tell you what they are.”

      With head hanging and her hands in her pockets, the kid started to walk away. Stopping suddenly, she turned and smiled, a punch-to-the-gut beautiful smile that was one hundred percent her mother. “Thanks, Jack—”

      “Mr. Riley,” her mother corrected.

      “Captain Riley,” he clarified. “But Jack is okay.”

      Faith slid her mother a slightly rebellious look. “It was nice to meet you, Jack. Thanks for saving me. I hope I see you again. ’Bye.”

      “’Bye,” he answered.

      He watched Maggie watch her daughter. “How old is she?” he asked.

      Her shoulders visibly tensed. She took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Nine.”

      He did the math and his heart stuttered for a moment. Then he shook his head. Maggie would have told him. He remembered her saying she’d gotten over him. Must have been right away. Because up until then, she’d filled every letter with how much she loved and missed him. She must have met someone who’d made her forget about him right after she’d gotten her letter back, the one he’d marked Return to Sender. He’d wanted her to forget about him and move on. He had no right to feel anything because she’d done just that.

      So why did he have to remember that just before he’d left, they’d been as physically close as a man and woman could be? She’d insisted on giving herself to him even though he’d tried to make her see that she was too young. In his gut he’d known being with her that way was wrong. But stubborn Maggie had dug in her heels and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It would have taken more will power than he possessed to turn away from the temptation she was back then. Still was, he corrected.

      He found it oddly comforting that some things didn’t

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