Her Soldier Of Fortune. Michelle Major

he’d failed the man who had been his best friend.

      The doorbell rang, and he sighed. Definitely not his brother and Ariana. He took another swig of coffee and wiped a sleeve across his mouth, approaching the front door slowly. Most people in Paseo knew Nate well enough to simply call out a greeting and let themselves in. Actually, most people would assume he was out working the land at this time of day. Normally they’d be right, except he’d been up half the night and needed coffee to keep him going—even the kind that tasted like burnt tar.

      He opened the front door almost warily, not sure what to expect. Ever since he and his brothers had discovered that the father they thought had died during their mom’s pregnancy was not only alive, but was tech mogul Gerald Robinson, and more specifically Jerome Fortune, there was no telling who might show up on Nate’s doorstep. Jerome Fortune had faked his own death over thirty years ago, shortly after a fight with Nate’s mom, to make a break with his own controlling father, but as Gerald Robinson, he not only had eight legitimate children with his wife, Charlotte, but a host of illegitimate offspring.

      Nothing could have prepared Nate for his body’s reaction to the woman who stood on his front porch, glancing around like she was more than a little lost. He didn’t recognize her, although there was something familiar in the big brown eyes that looked into his. What was wholly unfamiliar was the sharp prick of desire that stabbed him as he took in her delicate features—those molten chocolate eyes, a pert nose and lips that looked almost bee-stung in fullness despite being pressed into a tight line.

      Her hair was thick and dark like her eyes, tumbling around her shoulders. She wore a plain white T-shirt over faded jeans, and Nate swallowed as his gaze took in the perfect curve of her breasts and hips. He promptly cursed himself for his line of thought. Here was a stranger at his front door, and he was ogling her like some sort of randy teenager instead of a grown man of thirty-seven.

      “Can I help you?” he asked, hoping he sounded more polite than lecherous.

      “Hi, Nate,” she said softly. “How are you?”

      “Um...fine.” He took off his Stetson, slapping it against his thigh, and ran a hand through his hair with his other hand. “Do I know you?”

      The woman flashed a shy smile. “I’m Bianca Shaw. Eddie’s sister. Don’t you remember me?”

      Nate lifted one hand to grip the doorframe, whether to steady himself or to keep himself from reaching for Bianca, he couldn’t say. The beautiful woman in front of him was Eddie’s little sister?

      “Busy Bee,” he murmured, repeating the nickname Eddie’d used for his younger sister.

      She gave a short laugh. “I haven’t had someone call me that since...” Her voice trailed off as her hands clenched in tight fists at her side.

      “I’m sorry about Eddie,” he offered, the words tasting like dust in his mouth. “He died a hero.” Nate cleared his throat. “If it helps.”

      “Thank you,” she whispered, and swiped her fingers across her cheek.

      The familiar regret and blame churned through his stomach, turning the coffee he’d drunk to acid in his belly. Eddie Shaw had been like a brother to him. They’d met their first day of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training—more routinely known as BUD/S. Although as a triplet, Nate had always been close to his brothers, he’d formed an immediate bond with the stocky, wisecracking soldier that was just as strong.

      From the few times he’d been to Eddie’s mom’s cramped apartment in San Antonio, he remembered Eddie’s sister as a gangly teenager who giggled at everything and constantly tried to tag along with the brother who was nine years older than her. Eddie had been infinitely patient with Bianca, and even when they were stationed overseas or on a ship, he’d always taken the time to answer her overly perfumed letters and all the silly questions she asked about life as a navy SEAL.

      “You’re here in Paseo,” he said, stating the obvious because his brain felt about five steps behind the reality of whatever was happening right now.

      “I’m here,” she echoed and bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze skittering away from his like she was nervous about something. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

      Nate had met people from all over the world and all different walks of life during his stint in the US Navy. He’d become something of an expert on reading body language, and from the splotches of color blooming on Bianca’s cheeks to the rigid set of her thin shoulders to the tiny breath she blew out as if her lungs couldn’t handle Paseo’s clean air, Nate would have sworn on everything he had that the woman standing in front of him was in trouble.

      Eddie’s sister was in trouble. The brother-in-arms whom Nate had failed to save during their last mission wouldn’t have let that happen. Neither would Nate. All he had left of Eddie were memories and the guilt that burned his gut. But he could honor Eddie by taking care of Bianca. It was the only thing he had left to offer.

      He pushed aside his reaction to her, pretended he didn’t feel attraction pulsing through him like a drum beat and tried to see her as the girl she’d once been. Eddie’s baby sister. That was all she could ever be to Nate.

      “What do you need, Bianca?” he asked, wishing suddenly he was a different kind of man. One who could give her everything she wanted and more.

      * * *

      Bianca’s breath whooshed out in a shuddery rush at Nathan Fortune’s simple question.

      The summer she was five years old, new renters had moved into the tiny apartment next door to the cramped space where Bianca lived with her mom and Eddie. The walls in the run-down complex were paper-thin, and the young couple stayed up late with friends, music thumping so loud it would make the pictures on the wall vibrate. Bianca’s mom had quickly become a regular at the all-night parties, and Bianca would often wake in the middle of the night to laughter or voices yelling out or other strange noises she didn’t understand at the time.

      She’d tiptoe from her tiny bedroom across the hall to where Eddie slept and listen to his regular breathing. When Bianca complained about the noise, her mom told her to plug her ears with toilet paper, but that never worked. She’d creep closer to the mattress Eddie slept on. Bianca had a real headboard for her twin bed, but Eddie only had a mattress pushed up against one wall.

      Her brother always seemed to know when she was coming because by the time her knobby knees hit the threadbare covers, he’d sigh and ask, “What do you need, Bianca?” at the same time he’d lift one corner of the sheet so she could crawl in next to him.

      She never had to answer the question out loud because Eddie always knew what she needed without her even saying it. There in the dark, with her big brother next to her, Bianca would fall back asleep. With Eddie at her side, it didn’t matter what was happening in the apartment next door. Eddie would keep her safe.

      She was a big girl now and had been taking care of herself for enough time to know she didn’t need to rely on anyone. Everyone except Eddie had disappointed or abandoned her, so she’d quickly learned to stand on her own two feet. But recently she’d lost her footing as the angry hurricane of her life pummeled her from all sides. Now when she laid awake in the wee hours of the night, the only thing she wished was not to be so alone.

      It was as if the universe had heard her silent plea and answered her need with Nathan Fortune. He stood in front of her, strong and sure, exactly the opposite of how Bianca felt. He was muscled and clearly in shape, his shoulders broad beneath the fabric of the chambray shirt he wore. His skin was tanned from the sun, despite the wide brim of his hat, and she could see a faint patchwork of lines fanning out from his light brown eyes when he smiled.

      He was a few inches taller than Eddie had been but not so much that he towered over her. In fact, it looked as though she’d fit perfectly tucked underneath his shoulder. She locked her knees to keep from stepping into him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and burying her face in his shirtfront.

      “Now that you mention it,” she said with an awkward