Cal had joined the British Army, becoming intrigued by a team of Delta Force Operatives he’d seen in action while overseas. Strings had been pulled, agreements made, and not long after, Cal had found himself in the US, training to become a Delta. It was hard work, grueling at times, but he’d done it. He was assigned to work with Chappy, Bob, and JJ.
Cal had never clicked with anyone the way he had with his teammates. The men became inseparable, and when they’d made the decision to get out of the military after being taken hostage, there hadn’t been any question in Cal’s mind that he’d go wherever the others did.
They’d settled in Maine—after Cal had won a game of rock paper scissors—and had established Jack’s Lumber, a tree service. And while the work was difficult, especially with the relentless chronic pain Cal suffered day after day, he had been satisfied and mostly content for three long years.
Opening his eyes, Cal sighed. He was stalling. He needed to go inside and talk to Carla Green and her mother. Get some facts, see what kind of evidence she had, assess how serious the threat was. His cousin Karl had always been an overdramatic kid. When he’d stubbed his toe, he yelled and cried as if someone had chopped it off. When he’d gotten an A minus on a test, he’d expected everyone to treat him as if he’d just cured cancer. He fell madly in love with each of his girlfriends and went into a monthlong sulk when they broke up.
Cal didn’t know if Karl and Carla had truly only met on the internet, but he was mostly certain his cousin was simply being overly dramatic once again when he’d gone up the chain of relatives to get him to do his bidding.
Wiping a hand over his face, Cal took another deep breath before leaning over and opening the glove box. He shook out two aspirin and swallowed them dry, praying they’d make a dent in the throbbing in his head.
He reached for the door handle and climbed out of his SUV. He arched his back, trying to stretch out the kinks from sitting still for so long. Wincing at the way his movement pulled against the scars all over his torso, Cal sighed.
Every day, every movement, reminded him of the hell he’d been through. His friends had done what they could to turn their captors’ attention to themselves, but once they’d realized who they had in their clutches, they’d been positively gleeful. They’d laughed as they cut him, as they’d beaten him, as they’d turned on their video cameras to show the world how low a real-life prince had fallen.
Forcing his thoughts away from the not-too-distant past, Cal started to head back around toward the front of the house before movement caught his attention.
A woman exited through a side door of the house, carrying a trash bag and heading toward a bin directly opposite. Cal instinctively took a single step back, concealing himself behind the house as he studied her. She was small, perhaps a full foot shorter than his six-foot-one frame, and full figured . . . with the kind of curves Cal loved. Probably because he’d grown up around the opposite—skinny women who did whatever was necessary in order to fit into designer dresses, to resemble society’s version of what a pretty woman should look like.
Regardless, he’d always been far more attracted to women who carried some meat on their bones. He loved how they felt against him, under him, how their full tits jiggled and bounced, how their thighs and rounded stomachs were so soft in his hands. A Rubenesque woman was the epitome of sexiness.
Cal would take a curvy woman over a stick-thin one every day of the week.
Curves aside, there was nothing particularly notable about the woman he was watching at the moment. She was wearing an oversize T-shirt that she’d tied into a knot at her waist, her brown hair pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head. A pair of well-worn, faded jeans hugged her thighs, and she had no makeup on her face, as far as he could tell. But there was something about the full effect that had Cal watching her with fascination.
She pushed the lid off the bin and grunted as she lifted the obviously heavy trash bag. After throwing it in, she wiped her brow on the sleeve of her shirt, then sighed deeply and turned her face upward to the sun, closing her eyes.
She stood there for a long moment, her head tilted back, a small smile on her face, as if feeling the sun on her skin was the highlight of her day.
Cal was entranced. He hadn’t even said one word to the woman, and yet he could tell by the way she was enjoying the simple pleasure of the sun on her face that this was someone he wanted to know.
The first time he’d stepped outside after being rescued, he’d done the same thing she was doing now. He’d taken a deep breath, closed his eyes, and lifted his face to the hot Middle Eastern sun. It had actually hurt, the blazing sunshine burning the cuts and bruises on his skin, but nothing, even three years later, had felt as good as that first breath of fresh air.
And for some reason, Cal had a feeling this woman was feeling just a little of what he had that day. As if by standing out here in the sun, with the birds singing around her, she was free. Free of her worries and troubles.
“Juniper!”
The shrill voice screeching from inside the house made the woman jerk in surprise, and she turned her attention toward the door she’d exited. The small smile on her face disappeared, and Cal watched as she removed any expression from her face and headed back toward the house.
“Juniper! Where the hell are you?” the voice from inside called out again.
It grated on Cal’s nerves, the pitch high enough to exacerbate the throbbing in his head.
“I’m coming!” his curvy angel said calmly, as if she was used to being yelled at. And Cal supposed she probably was. She was most likely hired help for the household; it made sense if she was taking out the garbage. Cal’s family had certainly had their share of maids, gardeners, cooks, and other staff over the years. But he couldn’t remember his mom ever speaking to any of them as disrespectfully as the unseen woman inside the house, whoever she was.
Juniper. Cal smiled. It was a beautiful name.
He watched as Juniper reached for the door handle that led back into the house. She turned and looked up at the sky for another brief moment, and Cal could clearly see the expression on her face. It was no longer blank.
The longing, sorrow, and frustration he saw there spoke to his heart. But as soon as he caught a glimpse of the emotions, they were gone, as was she.
Cal’s heart beat fast in his chest. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but he’d never felt like this before. He wasn’t a believer in love at first sight, like what happened in the fairy tales. Yes, he was a prince, but he wasn’t going to meet his Snow White, Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty and fall madly in love at first glance.
But . . . he couldn’t deny he’d never experienced a draw toward a woman like he’d felt with the mysterious Juniper. It wasn’t just her looks, although her body was exactly what he preferred in his lovers . . . it was the peacefulness that exuded from her as she’d turned her face to the sun. And an underlying strength.
Shaking his head, Cal rolled his eyes. He was being ridiculous. There was no way he could’ve seen all that from a woman who’d simply been taking out the rubbish.
Yet he had. He knew it.
Cal had no idea who Juniper was, but he knew he wanted to seek her out. Talk to her. Maybe that would bring him to his senses. She’d say something annoying, or find out who he was and act like so many other women had . . . she’d simper and flirt and do everything in her power to try to make him fall madly in love with her.
Wasn’t going to happen. He was immune to love.
But that didn’t make his curiosity disappear.