Search and Seduce. Sara Stone Jane

she said softly, “I need to find someone who sees me.”

      “Okay, I get that,” he said, glancing down at her. Was he like the others? When he looked at Amy, what did he see?

      A slim blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty with long legs—shit, a man would have to be half-dead not to fantasize about running his hands up her limbs. But looking down at her, Mark couldn’t set aside the fact that Amy was so much more than a beautiful blonde. He saw a woman who was working her tail off to establish her new business breeding dogs to help soldiers and law enforcement in the field.

      “It’s a big step,” he said. “You deserve someone who respects you. You should take as much time as you need.”

      “Thanks.” She let out a sigh. “But on the flip side, I miss dating. I miss sex. After all, I am a ‘passionate woman.’”

      “Not going to live that one down for a while, am I?” he said, doing his best to separate the words Amy and sex in his head.

      “Nope. Not for a while.” Her smile faded as she glanced through the window at the crowded dance floor. “So, are you willing to play along and pretend I stumbled getting down from the truck?”

      “As long as I get to keep you company in the non-dancing section,” he said.

      “Deal.”

      Mark opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of stale beer hit him, bringing back memories. There had been a time in his teens when walking into this place and inhaling that scent had seemed like a dream. He’d sneaked in once with some of the guys from the football team, but they’d been kicked to the curb the minute they’d tried to order a drink. The bartender had threatened to call their mamas if they came back before their twenty-first birthdays.

      Looking at the place now, not much had changed. A wooden bar ran down one side of the restaurant, lined with stools. The cramped stage stood on the opposite side. A live country band, probably local, played fast and furious, strumming guitars and fiddles, pounding away at the drum kit, while the crowd danced. Wooden tables and mismatched chairs filled the space between the bar and the dance floor.

      He spotted the Benton brothers standing by a table, holding court. Some of the men and women were familiar, old friends from school, and some were new. T.J. saw them first and waved. Mark headed over, taking it slow as Amy leaned against him.

      Her hand held tight to his forearm, and even through the fabric of his clothes, her touch bordered on intimate. Mark’s jaw tightened as he mentally swept that thought away alongside Amy and sex. But with Amy’s slim figure aligned with his, from where her shoulder pressed up against his biceps down to where her hip touched his thigh, it was easy to buy into her little white lie. To pretend that she needed him, holding her, supporting her, and... Shit, what he needed was a drink.

      “Oh, Eloise,” Amy murmured. Mark followed her gaze. Amy’s cousin was standing close to Gabe’s side. And the eldest Benton brother wasn’t fighting her off. Just the opposite. He had his hand on her lower back, holding her close. Mark doubted Eloise had sprained her ankle, too.

      Mark and Amy reached the table as Luke raised his glass. “About time you joined us. We’ve been toasting your homecoming without you.”

      Completing the semicircle of brothers, T.J. stood beside Luke, studying the nonexistent space between Mark’s body and Amy. “Something wrong, Ames?”

      She tensed at the nickname, her fingers digging into his arm. “Twisted my ankle in the parking lot.”

      T.J. stepped forward. “Want me to take a look at it?”

      “You’re a vet, not a medic,” Mark said, leading a limping Amy to one of the two empty chairs.

      “I didn’t realize they were calling the PJs out for twisted ankles,” T.J. shot back.

      “I’ve got her.” Mark lowered Amy down, his hands on her arms and his face close to hers.

      “You don’t have to put on a show,” she whispered.

      “I don’t mind.” It beat handing her off to one of the cowboys hovering nearby ready and willing to swing her onto the dance floor. He’d counted three men looking her way as they’d hobbled toward the Benton brothers. Despite what Amy might believe, those men hadn’t seen her long, jean-clad legs or her wide blue eyes and thought widow. He’d bet money there wasn’t an ounce of pity in any one of them.

      Mark lower himself onto one knee beside Amy’s feet and lifted her calf up, resting it across his thigh. “Let’s have a look.”

      He slipped her shoe off, running his hands up to her ankle. He’d spent the past few months treating strangers, but touching them had never felt personal. With Amy, it was. Her skin was soft and smooth. The ruby-red nail polish on her toes caught the bar’s dim lighting, pulling his focus from his job.

      Mark held Amy’s foot in one hand, turning it left and right, while his other hand rested on her calf, drifting higher than necessary. “Does this hurt?”

      Amy nodded. “It does. When you turn it to the side. But just a bit.”

      His fingers traced the curve of her ankle, his touch bordering on teasing. If anyone looked too closely, they’d realize Mark had stretched the definition of “ankle exam.” He looked up at her, hoping like hell she couldn’t see the heat he felt pulsing through his body in his gaze.

      “Good news,” he said.

      “I’ll live?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

      He nodded. “It’s not sprained. Rest it for a bit, and you’ll be back on your feet by the end of the night.”

      “But no dancing?” she asked as he slipped her shoe back on and lowered her foot to the floor.

      “I wouldn’t recommend it.” Mark stood. “I’ll get you a drink. What are you having?”

      “White wine, please.” He could hear the hint of laughter in her tone, as if she’d enjoyed their little performance. “But I’m buying, remember?”

      “You can pay me back later,” he said before she reached for her purse. “I don’t want you to disturb your ankle. Save me a seat?”

      Amy patted the empty chair beside. “All yours.”

      He placed their order at the bar and turned to watch the dance floor. He knew most of these people, and even the ones he didn’t looked like locals. Not many tourists in Heart’s Landing. Sure, they were close to the coast, but most visitors preferred the towns on the water.

      The music switched from upbeat to slow and romantic. Couples moved closer or left the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two familiar faces and frowned. Gabe and Eloise had abandoned the group table in favor of the dance floor, pressing up close to each other.

      Mark shook his head as he paid for the drinks. He hoped they knew what they were doing. The ties between the two families ran deep. A one-night stand could lead to hurt feelings and broken friendships. If not tomorrow, then when Gabe returned to his team. But maybe they’d found a way to avoid all that emotional crap and just have a good time. Hell, maybe he should ask for a road map.

       5

      AMY STARED AT the dance floor. She should be out there. Dancing. Laughing. Flirting. It didn’t matter if half the men in the bar looked at her and thought, There goes Darren’s widow. That wasn’t how she saw herself. Not anymore. And it was time to do something about it. Before her body’s reaction to a pretend ankle exam ruined her relationship with one of her closest and oldest friends.

      Mark had touched her in a crowded bar, and she’d been tempted to press her bare foot against his thigh. The moment had felt intimate and wild. But she suspected that was only partly due to the way his hands had moved over her skin—and partly due to their shared secret. She kept so many locked away that having