Redeeming The Billionaire Seal. Lauren Canan

the far end of the barn to an open area where hay for the stalled horses was kept. He sat down on a bale, leaned back against the wall and gazed at the sky. He missed this. He’d done plenty of night maneuvers, but the last thing he thought about then was gazing at the stars.

      He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. Until a decision was made regarding his ability to perform his job, all he could do was walk the tightrope and keep his fingers crossed. He’d been assigned to see a civilian doctor while he was here. Hopefully he could add some positive input. But Chance had a sickening feeling in his gut that his life as a SEAL was over. It was how he’d deal with the news that caused the turmoil in his head. He was thirty years old. A lot of guys dropped out of the program by now. No doubt all of them wished they had the opportunity Chance was being given by his brothers. But he didn’t want to go there. If his brothers were content with the corporate side of things, good enough. But he wanted no part of it.

      * * *

      Holly again flounced onto her back, staring at the ceiling fan’s blades whirling silently in the darkened room. This was so not working. She was tired. She’d had a long day. But even after a soak in the tub she couldn’t go to sleep. Her mind refused to shut down. Glancing at the clock, she calculated she’d been lying in bed tossing and turning for almost two hours. Sleep was not even in the neighborhood, let alone knocking at her door. And she knew the reason was because Chance was home.

      He was probably up in the big house with Wade and Cole. It was well after midnight. They were probably asleep. Even if they weren’t, she wasn’t about to disturb them on Chance’s first day home. But. What if he wasn’t with them? What if he was restless and couldn’t sleep either? What if he’d wanted some air? There was only one place he would go at one o’clock in the morning.

      Swinging her legs off the bed, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A quick peek into Emma’s room assured her that the baby was sleeping soundly. Finger-combing her hair, Holly grabbed her phone and slipped into the tennis shoes by the back door.

      “Are you leaving?” Amanda mumbled, half-asleep but still glued to the television.

      “Couldn’t sleep. Just going to take a walk. Have my cell if you need me.”

      “’Kay.”

      Holly stepped outside and began jogging toward the main barn. If he wasn’t there, at least she could run off some restless energy. But if he was there, she didn’t want to waste a second that she could be spending with him.

      The night air was cool to her skin with a hint of moisture. The creatures of the night continued to chirp as she jogged down the path, across the bridge and onto the main ranch road. She passed the driveway to the big house and finally reached the barn on the far rise.

      The large outside double doors were open. The center hall had been swept as usual and there was no sign of anyone inside other than the current four-legged residents. She took a quick peek into the office. Finding it empty, she ventured down the hall, glancing inside the grain and tack rooms. No sign of Chance. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment. She turned around and started walking back the way she’d come when she heard a sound. It sounded like a snore. She stopped. After a few seconds, there it was again. It was coming from the far end of the building. Curious, she headed that direction. Sure enough, in the open area on the left, intended for keeping a monthly supply of hay for the horses that were stalled, two long muscled legs were propped up on a bale of hay. As she stepped closer, she knew it was Chance. He was sound asleep, his hat pulled down over his eyes. She should just go and let him sleep.

      She really should.

      She chewed her bottom lip and glanced at the stacks of baled silage. He could always go back to sleep. This was too good to pass up. Pulling a foot-long strand of hay from a nearby bale, she checked to make sure it had the dried seedpod on one end before slowly creeping toward him. Crouching on her knees, she reached out and touched the wispy end of the straw against his nose. He stirred and batted at his face. Holly had to work hard to stifle a giggle as she reached out again.

      In less time than it took to blink he grabbed her arm, propelled her over his body and down onto the hay with him on top, one hand around her throat, the other holding her hands above her head.

      Time stopped. His face was mere inches from hers, his look fierce, his eyes hard and deadly. She didn’t know if she should try to speak or just remain absolutely still. She’d heard of soldiers with PTSD having bad nightmares. But Chance’s eyes were open, glaring and focused on her.

      “Chance?” She said his name, barely over a whisper. “Chance, it’s me, Holly.”

      “I know it’s you,” he assured her, his voice low and angry. “I know what you were doing. And I know you came damned close to getting yourself killed.”

      “Sorry. Lesson learned,” she squeaked. But he wasn’t letting her up. His granite body was pressing her down into the hay, making her intensely aware of the absolute power and total control he commanded. He released her neck, but still held her hands above her head. His eyes were mesmerizing, entrancing, and changed her need to escape into an almost desperate desire to stay. Her fright faded, turning into something else entirely. She could feel part of his body becoming more rigid, more unyielding, and she fought the overwhelming temptation to press her hips against him. She threw her head back, closing her eyes as she battled the need for him. She could smell the sweat from his body. All sounds around them stopped. Then it was too much. She was burning and she knew Chance was the only one who could make it stop.

      She felt his warm breath on her face and her eyes opened, her gaze falling on his lips, full and enticing, only inches away. Absently she pulled her bottom lip inside her mouth, moistening it with her tongue. In the dim light she saw his face harden, the muscles of his jaw working overtime. In spite of his anger, she craved to know what his kiss would feel like. Twelve long years ago when she’d jumped into his arms and kissed him goodbye, she’d just been a kid. Her action had taken him by surprise and he had immediately set her away from him as shock and aggravation covered his face. But she’d held on to the memory even though it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. It only provided a childish dream she’d carried in her pocket all this time. Now he lowered his head, his mouth coming closer while at the same time she felt the solid ridge of pure adult male begin to throb.

      * * *

      “Goddammit, Holly.”

      With an abrupt move, he rolled off her and onto his feet. Disgust at himself for almost kissing her waged war with the frustration that he hadn’t. It wouldn’t have stopped after a few kisses. She was too damn enticing and it had been too long since he’d felt the pleasures of a woman. Damn. Gritting his teeth, Chance strove for control. Holly was more than just another available female. He would not take her like this, even if she asked. Not in a barn. Not in a bed. Not anywhere for any reason. He sucked in a deep breath and held out a hand to help her up.

      She scrambled to her feet without acknowledging him then sent a glare in his direction. He probably should apologize, but he had a tough time saying he was sorry for something he didn’t regret. She appeared decidedly uncomfortable, looking in any direction but at him. She’d offered herself and he’d rejected her. But dammit, didn’t she understand? She wasn’t a one-nighter, a onetime roll between the sheets. She was so much more than that.

      “Use a small bit of common sense.”

      “You sure do wake up grumpy.”

      Grumpy? He’d call what had almost happened a lot of things. Grumpy wasn’t one of them. He dropped his head and let out a sigh. Rubbing the back of his neck, he contemplated how to explain why he appeared grumpy.

      “Holly, I spend most of my time, night and day, in areas of the world—in situations—where the only way you stay alive is by use of a sixth sense. It’s awareness. And you can never turn it off. If someone sneaks up on you, you have to assume it’s the enemy, and we are trained, if he’s that close, to take him out and ask questions later. If you don’t assume it’s the enemy, in all likelihood you’ll be dead before you figure it out. It’s an automatic reaction.”

      “I