Lucy and The Lieutenant

She just about undid him with a single touch.

“Lucy … stop.”

She didn’t move her hand. “I can’t.”

He couldn’t have moved away if he’d tried. She was pure temptation. And he wanted her.

When he dipped his head, his intention clear, a tiny moan escaped her. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced, almost as though it possessed a kind of purity that had never been matched and never would.

Brant suddenly felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. Because he’d known, deep down, that kissing Lucy would be incredible. Everything about her had been tempting him for months. Every look, every word, every touch had been drawing them toward this moment. His pulse galloped, knees grew weak, until he pulled back and looked into those honest eyes.

What was he doing? Lucy was the hometown girl who wanted romance, marriage, the white picket fence. Brant didn’t do any of those things.

Her eyes shimmered with a kind of longing that heated his blood even further. But he fought the urge to kiss her again, because he knew where it would lead. He’d want to make love to her forever. and that was the one thing he couldn’t give.

Cedar River Cowboys:

Riding into town with romance on their minds!

Lucy & the Lieutenant
Helen Lacey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HELEN LACEY grew up reading Black Beauty and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven, a story about a girl and her horse. She loves writing for Mills & Boon Cherish, where she can create strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines with gumption who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com.

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For Robert… to the moon and back.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Brant Parker grabbed the T-shirt stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his brow.

It was cold out, but he’d been working for four hours straight without a break and it was quite warm inside the closed-up rooms of the Loose Moose Tavern. He’d spent the best part of three weeks stripping out the old timber framing and flooring that had gone through a fire eight months earlier.

Most people said he was crazy for buying the place, like it had some kind of hoodoo attached to it. But he didn’t believe in hoodoo or bad luck, and he wasn’t swayed by anyone telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. The Loose Moose had been a part of Cedar River for over thirty years and he believed the old place deserved another chance.

Maybe he did, too.

Brant dropped the piece of timber in his hands, stretched his back and groaned. It had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to soak under a hot shower and to relax in front of some mindless TV show for an hour or two. But first he had to go to the veterans home to visit his uncle, as he did every Tuesday and Friday.

Uncle Joe was his father’s oldest brother and a Vietnam veteran who’d lost a leg in the war. He also had a heart condition and suffered from the early stages of Parkinson’s disease. He lived in full-time care at the home adjacent to the small community hospital. Brant cared deeply for his uncle. The older man knew him. Got him. Understood the demons he carried.

He headed upstairs to the small apartment and took a shower, then dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It was snowing lightly, a regular occurrence in South Dakota in winter, but quite unusual for mid-November. He shouldered into his lined jacket, pulled on woolen socks and heavy boots, and grabbed his truck keys. The home was a ten-minute drive in good weather from the main street in town and since snow was now falling in earnest, he knew the roads would be slippery. Brant took his time and arrived about fifteen minutes later. It was late afternoon and the parking lot was empty, so he scored a spot easily and got out of the truck.

The wind howled through his ears and he pulled the jacket collar around his neck. It promised to be a long and chilly winter ahead. But he didn’t mind. It sure beat the relentless, unforgiving heat of a desert summer like the last one he’d endured in Afghanistan. The light blanket of snow made him feel as though he was home. And he was. For good this time. No more tours. No more military. He was a civilian and could lead a normal life. He could get up each morning and face a new day. And he could forget everything else.

Brant headed for the front doors and shook off his jacket before he crossed the threshold. When he entered the building, heat blasted through him immediately. The foyer was empty and the reception desk had a sign and a bell instructing to ring for attendance. He ignored both and began walking down the wide corridor.

“Hi, Brant.”

The sound of his name stopped Brant in his tracks and he turned. A woman emerged from a door to his left and he recognized her immediately. Lucy Monero. He cringed inwardly. He wasn’t in the mood for the pretty brunette with the lovely curves and dancing green eyes, and tried to stay as indifferent as possible. “Good afternoon, Dr. Monero.”

“Please,” she said just a little too breathlessly. “Call me Lucy.”

He wouldn’t. Keeping it formal meant keeping her at a distance. Just as he liked it.

Instead he made a kind of half-grunting sound and shrugged loosely. “Have you seen my uncle this afternoon?”

“Just left him about ten minutes ago,” she said, smiling. “He said he’s feeling good today. The nurses left food on the tray, so perhaps see if you can get him to eat something.”

“Sure.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t pass. She simply stood there and looked at him. Examined him, he thought. In a way that stirred his blood. It had been too long since anything or anyone had stirred him. But Lucy Monero managed it with barely a glance.

And he was pretty sure she knew it.

“So, how’s the shoulder?” she asked, tossing her hair in a way that always made him flinch.

A trace of her apple-scented shampoo clung to the air and he swallowed hard. “Fine.”

He’d dislocated his shoulder eight weeks earlier when he’d fallen off his motorbike. She’d been one of the doctors on duty at the hospital that night. But he’d made a point of ensuring she didn’t attend him. He hadn’t wanted her poking and prodding at him, or standing so close he’d be forced to inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Glad to hear it. I was talking to your mother the other day and she said you plan to reopen the tavern in the next few months?”

His mother had made her opinion about Lucy Monero clear on numerous occasions. She was Lucy’s number-one fan and didn’t mind telling him so. But he wasn’t interested in a date, a relationship or settling down. Not with anyone. Including the pretty doctor in front of him. Her dark brows and green eyes were a striking combination and no doubt a legacy from her Italian heritage. She wore scrubs with a white coat over them, and he figured she’d just come from the emergency room at the hospital where she worked. But he knew she was also filling in at the veterans home a couple of times a week while one of the other doctors was on leave. Uncle Joe thought the world of her, too. And even his older brother, Grady, had extolled her virtues after she’d attended to his youngest daughter when the child had been taken to the ER a couple of months ago with a high fever.

Brant did his best to ignore her eyes, her hair and the curves he knew were hidden beneath the regulation blue scrubs. “That’s the plan.”

She smiled a little, as though she was amused by his terse response, as though she had some great secret only she was privy to. It irritated him no end.

“I’m pleased your shoulder is okay.”

He wished she’d stop talking. “Sure, whatever.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Well, see you soon, Brant.”

She said his name on a sigh. Or at least, that’s how it sounded. There was a husky softness to her voice that was impossible to ignore. And it always made him tense. It made him wonder how her voice would sound if she was whispering, if she was bent close and speaking words only he could hear.

Brant quickly pulled himself out of the haze his mind was in and nodded vaguely, walking away, well aware that she was watching him.

And knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about.

* * *

Lucy let out a long sigh once Brant Parker disappeared around the corner of the ward. His tight-shouldered gait was one she would recognize anywhere—at the hospital, along the street, in her dreams.

He’d been in them for years. Since she’d been a starry-eyed, twelve-year-old mooning over the then-fifteen-year-old Brant. She’d lived next door to the Parker ranch. The ranch he’d left when he was eighteen to join the military. She’d left Cedar River for college just a couple of years later and put the boy she’d pined over as a teen out of her thoughts. Until she’d returned to her hometown to take a position at the small county hospital. She’d seen him again and the old attraction had resurfaced. He had been back from another tour of the Middle East and they’d bumped into each other at the O’Sullivan pub. Of course he hadn’t recognized her. The last time they’d crossed paths she had been a chubby, self-conscious teenager with glasses. He’d seemed surprised to see her, but had said little. That had been more than two years earlier. Now he was back for good. Just as she was. He had left the military after twelve years of service and bought the old Loose Moose Tavern.

He could have done anything after high school—maybe law or economics—as he was supersmart and was always at the top of his class. One of those gifted people who never had to try hard to make good grades. He spoke a couple of languages and had been some kind of covert translator in the military. Lucy didn’t know much about it, but what she did she’d learned from his mother, Colleen. The other woman regularly visited Joe Parker and also volunteered at the hospital where Lucy specialized in emergency medicine.

She’d known the Parkers since she was a child. Back then her parents had owned the small ranch next door. When she was fourteen her dad had died unexpectedly from a stroke, and then within a year her mother had sold the place and moved into town. A few years later her mother was killed in an accident. By then Lucy was ready for college, which would be followed by medical school, and had left town. The house her mother had bought in town was now hers and it was conveniently located just a few streets from the hospital. She was back in Cedar River to give back to the town she loved.

And maybe find her own happiness along the way.

Because Lucy wanted to get married and have a family. And soon. She was twenty-seven years old and had never had a serious romantic relationship. She’d never been in love. The truth be told, she’d never really been kissed.

And she was the only twenty-seven-year-old virgin she knew.

In high school she had been a geek to the core and had mostly been ignored by the boys in her grade. She hadn’t even managed to get a date for prom. And by the time she was in college, her dreams about dating quickly disappeared. Three weeks into college and her roommate was assaulted so badly Lucy spent two days with the other girl at the hospital. It was enough to make her wary about getting involved with anyone on campus. She made a few friends who were much like herself—focused kids who studied hard and avoided parties and dating. By the time she started medical school the pattern of her life had been set. She was quiet and studious and determined to become a good doctor. Nothing else mattered. Though she’d gotten more comfortable over time in social situations, she was known as a girl who didn’t date and, after a while, the invitations stopped.

One year quickly slipped into another and by the time she’d finished her residency she’d stopped fretting about being the oldest virgin on the planet. Not that she was hanging on to it as though it was a prize...she’d just never met anyone she liked enough to share that kind of intimacy with. Of course her closest friends, Ash, Brooke and Kayla, thought it amusing and teased her often about her refusal to settle for just anyone. She wanted special. She wanted a love that would last a lifetime.

She wanted...

Brant Parker.

Which was plain old, outright, what-are-you-thinking-girl stupid, and she knew it deep within her bones. Brant never looked at her in that way. Most of the time he acted as though he barely even saw her. When they were kids he’d tolerated her because they were neighbors, and in high school he had been three years ahead and hadn’t wasted his time acknowledging her in the corridors. By the time she was in college he was long gone from Cedar River.

Her cell beeped and quickly cut through her thoughts. It was Kayla reminding her that she’d agreed to meet her and Ash and Brooke at the O’Sullivan pub for a drink and catch-up that evening. It had become something of a Friday-night ritual since she’d returned to town. Kayla had been a friend since junior high and worked as curator of the small Cedar River historical museum and art gallery, and Ash was a cop with the local police department. Brooke, who was Brant’s cousin, was pure cowgirl and owned a small horse ranch just out of town.

All four women were good friends and she thoroughly enjoyed their company...most of the time. But she wasn’t really in the mood for drinks and conversation tonight. She’d had a long morning in the emergency room and had been at the veterans home for the past few hours. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, strip off and soak in the tub for a leisurely hour or so. But since her friend wouldn’t take no for an answer, she agreed to meet them at the pub at six, which gave her an hour to get home, feed the cat, shower and change, and then head back into town.

Lucy ended the call and walked toward the nurses’ station. She handed in her charts to the one nurse on duty and signed out. She had another two weeks at the home before her contract was up and then she’d return full-time to the hospital. But she’d enjoyed her time working with the veterans. And with Joe Parker in particular. He was a natural storyteller and entertained everyone with his charm and easy-going manner.

Pity his nephew didn’t inherit some of those manners or charm.

Lucy wrinkled her nose and headed down the hall to the small locker room. Brant made her mad the way he ignored her. It wasn’t like he was some great catch or anything. Sure, he had a body to die for. And the sexiest deep blue eyes. And dark hair that she’d often imagined running her fingers through. But he was a moody, closed-off loner who didn’t seem to have time for anyone. Except his closest family members. She’d seen him in town one morning with his young nieces and the girls clearly adored him. It had made her think about how he’d probably make a great dad one day. And the idea of that quickly had her womb doing backflips.

Idiot...

She shrugged off her foolish thoughts, hung up her white coat and grabbed her bag.

The cold air outside hit her like a laser blast when she walked through the hospital doors. She quickly made it to her Honda and jumped inside. Snow was falling lightly and she watched the flakes hit the windshield. She loved snow and everything that went with it. Skiing, snowballs, log fires and the holidays... It was her favorite time of year. And one day she hoped she’d have a family of her own to share it with.

If only she could get the silly and impossible dreams of Brant Parker out of her head.

She popped the key into the ignition, started the car and drove off. The roads were slick, so she took her time getting home. When she pulled up in the driveway it was past five o’clock and she spotted her ginger cat, Boots, sitting idle in the front window. The image made her smile, and she was welcomed by the demanding feline once she’d dusted off her shoes and entered the house.

The place was small and very much in need of a complete renovation. She’d painted the walls in the living area and main bedroom when she’d returned to town for good, but since then she’d been so busy at the hospital, anything else had been put on hold. The kitchen required a complete overhaul as the cupboards were decades old and styled in old-fashioned laminate paneling and bright orange trim. It was retro in the truest sense and not to her taste. But she couldn’t really afford to get someone in to do the work until the following summer and wasn’t skilled enough to tackle anything more than painting herself. So, it would have to wait.

She dropped her bag, fed the cat and quickly checked her email before she headed to the shower. Within half an hour she was dressed in her favorite long denim skirt, emerald green shirt and mid-heeled boots. She pulled her hair from its ponytail, applied a little makeup and grabbed a small handbag for her wallet and cell phone. She texted Kayla as she was leaving, grabbed her coat and headed outside. She dusted the thin layer of snow off the windshield before she got into her car. The vehicle took a few turns of the key to start, but she was soon on her way.

The O’Sullivan pub was in the center of town and possessed a kind of richly authentic Irish flavor. It was actually a hotel, with fifteen luxurious rooms, two restaurants, a bar, an outdoor garden for private functions and several conference rooms available for rent. The O’Sullivan family was rich and well-known. Although the old man, John O’Sullivan, had retired and his eldest son, Liam, now ran the place, he still walked around with his chest puffed out like he ruled the town and everyone in it. No one crossed the O’Sullivans. No one would dare. The hotel was one of the main draws in the town and that had a lot of pull with the mayor’s office. Tourists came to see the old mines, the occasional rodeos, the horse and cattle ranches, and many used the town as a stopover before they crossed the state line. Since the O’Sullivan’s hotel was the poshest place to stay, few people objected to paying for their amenities.

She did wonder if that’s why Brant had bought the Loose Moose—as a way of sticking it to the O’Sullivans. There was certainly no love lost between the two families. Brant’s older brother, Grady, had been married to Liz O’Sullivan, and Lucy knew her parents had never thought a rancher was good enough for their beloved daughter. When Liz died a few years ago things had gotten worse and, according to Colleen Parker, the feud between the two families was now quite intense.

It was early, so she found a spot outside the hotel and parked. She got out, grabbed her coat from the backseat and tossed it over her arm. A few people milled around the front of the hotel, and she recognized a couple of nurses from the hospital and waved as she made her way through the wide doors.

Kayla, Brooke and Ash were already seated at a booth in the bar when she arrived, with a pitcher of sangria between them. The O’Sullivan pub certainly wasn’t the average run-of-the-mill kind of drinking establishment. If you wanted beer and a game of pool you went to one of the other cowboy bars in town like Rusty’s or the Black Bull. She slid into the booth and raised a brow at the quarter-empty pitcher on the table. “You started without me?”

Brooke tossed her straight blond hair a little and grinned. “You’re late. So, of course.”

Blue-eyed Ash, whose bobbed hair was the color of copper, smiled and nodded. “I’m off duty.”

“And being a museum curator is thirsty work,” Kayla said and laughed. “Although I’ll be stopping at one drink. But we got you a glass.”

Lucy chuckled and stared at her friend, who was easily the most beautiful woman she’d ever known. Kayla’s long blond hair and dark brown eyes stopped most men in their tracks.

She lifted the half-filled glass and took a small sip. “Thanks. Are we staying for dinner?”

“Not me,” Brooke said. “I have a foal due within days and with this weather coming in...” She sighed and grinned. “You know how it is.”

Yes, they all knew Brooke lived and breathed for her horses.

“Nor me. I only have a sitter until seven thirty,” Ash replied and inclined a thumb toward Kayla. “And this one has a date.”

Lucy’s gaze widened. “Really? With whom?”

Kayla laughed again. “Assignments. Marking papers for the online class I’m teaching through the community college.”

“Gosh, we’re a boring group,” Lucy said and smiled. “Just as well I have a cat to get home to.”

“You could always ask Hot Stuff over there to take you to dinner,” Kayla suggested and laughed again.

Lucy’s eyes popped wide. Hot Stuff? There was no mistaking who she meant. Her friend had been calling Brant that name for years, ever since Lucy had admitted she was crushing on him when she was a teenager.

“He’s here?”

“Yep,” Kayla replied. “Over by the bar, talking to Liam O’Sullivan.”

Lucy looked toward Ash for confirmation. “She’s right. He was here when we arrived. Looks like he’s not too happy about it, either. I don’t think he’s cracked a smile in that time.”

Nothing unusual about that, Lucy thought. She itched to turn around and see for herself, but didn’t want to appear obvious. But she was curious as to why he was with Liam O’Sullivan, considering the family history.

“You know, he’s not a complete killjoy,” Brooke said about her cousin and gave a little grin. “And if you like, I could ask him for you?”

Lucy almost spat out her sangria. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You know how I feel about—”

“Yes,” Brooke assured her and chuckled. “We’ve known how you feel about him for well over a decade.”

God, how foolish that sounded. And, if she were being completely honest with herself, a little pathetic. She certainly didn’t want friends thinking she was still pining for Brant Parker after so many years. “Well, I won’t be asking him to take me to dinner,” Lucy assured them.

“Pity,” Kayla said and chuckled. “Because he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you’ve been here.”

Lucy’s cheeks heated. So, he watched her. It didn’t mean anything. She might be unkissed, untouched and naive, but she was savvy enough to know when a man wasn’t interested. Even though there were times...well, occasionally she had thought that she’d seen interest in his blue eyes. But mostly she thought it simply wishful thinking and then got on with knowing he’d never look at her in that way.

She turned her head a little and spotted him. Handsome as ever, he was talking to Liam and she experienced the usual flutter in her belly. His dark hair, strong jaw and blue eyes never failed to affect her on a kind of primal level.

“You’re imagining things,” she said dismissively and poured another quarter of a glass of sangria to keep her hands busy.

“I know what I saw,” Kayla said, still smiling. “I wonder what he’s doing talking with Liam.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Lucy said with a grin.

Kayla sighed heavily. “For the last time, I am not interested in Liam O’Sullivan.”

Ash and Brooke both laughed. “Sure you aren’t,” Ash said.

“We’re just working together on the gallery extension plans, that’s all,” Kayla insisted.

Lucy was pretty sure there was more to it, but didn’t press the issue. She was more interested in knowing why Brant was consorting with his brother’s mortal enemy. But since neither things were any of her business, she concentrated on the cocktails and enjoying her friend’s company.

Except, Brooke didn’t drop the topic. “At least he hasn’t wrecked his bike again.”

“Not for a couple of months,” Lucy said and frowned. “He was lucky he wasn’t seriously injured,” she added with quiet emphasis.

His last visit to the ER was his third in seven months and had landed him with a dislocated shoulder and cuts and scrapes. The first was another flip from his motorbike. The second was when he’d climbed Kegg’s Mountain and taken a tumble that also could have killed him. Why he’d risk his life so carelessly after surviving three tours of the Middle East, Lucy had no idea.

“I guess he’s just adventurous,” Brooke said, and Lucy saw a shadow of concern in her friend’s expression. This was Brant’s cousin. Family. Brooke knew him. And clearly she was worried.

“Maybe,” Lucy replied and smiled fractionally, eager to change the subject.

Ash bailed at seven fifteen to get home to her eleven-year-old son, Jaye. Lucy hung out with Kayla and Brooke for another ten minutes before they all grabbed their bags and headed out. Brant had left half an hour earlier, without looking at her, without even acknowledging her presence. Kayla managed a vague wave to Liam O’Sullivan before they walked through the doors and into the cold night air.

Lucy grabbed her coat and flipped it over her shoulders. “It’s still snowing. Weird for this time of year. Remind me again why I didn’t accept the offer to join the hospital in San Francisco?”

“Because you don’t like California,” Kayla said, shivering. “And you said you’d miss us and this town too much.”

“True,” Lucy said and grinned. “I’ll talk to you both over the weekend.”

They hugged goodbye and headed in opposite directions. People were still coming into the hotel and the street out front was getting busy, so she took some time to maneuver her car from its space and drive off.

The main street of Cedar River was typical of countless others in small towns: a mix of old and new buildings, cedar and stucco, some tenanted, some not. There were two sets of traffic lights and one main intersection. Take a left and the road headed toward Rapid City. Go right and there was Nebraska. Over three and a half thousand people called Cedar River home. It sat peacefully in the shadow of the Black Hills and was as picturesque as a scene from a postcard. She loved the town and never imagined living anywhere else. Even while she was away at college, medical school and working at the hospital in Sioux Falls for three years, her heart had always called her home.

Up until recently the town had been two towns—Cedar Creek and Riverbend—separated by a narrow river and a bridge. But after years of negotiating, the townships had formed one larger town called Cedar River. Lucy had supported the merger... It meant more funding for the hospital and the promise of a unified, economically sound community.

Lucy was just about to flick on the radio for the chance to hear the weather report when her car spluttered and slowed, quickly easing to little more than a roll. She steered left and pulled to the curb as the engine coughed and died.

Great...

A few cars passed, all clearly intent on getting home before the snow worsened. Lucy grabbed her bag and pulled out her cell. She could call her automobile club for assistance, but that meant she’d be dragging mechanic Joss Culhane out to give her a tow home. And Joss was a single dad with two little girls to look after and had better things to do than come to her rescue because she’d forgotten about the battery light that had been flashing intermittently all week.

Better she didn’t. She was just about to call Kayla to come and get her when she spotted something attached to one of the old buildings flapping in the breeze. A shingle. Recognition coursed through her.

The Loose Moose. Brant’s place.

A light shone through one of the front windows. He was home. She knew he lived in the apartment above the tavern. Of course she’d never been up there. But Colleen Parker had told her how he was renovating the tavern while residing in the upstairs rooms.

Lucy got out of the car and wrapped herself in her red woolen coat. Surely, Brant would help her, given the circumstances?

She grabbed her bag and locked the car before she headed toward the old tavern. The old adobe front was boarded up, apart from the two windows, and the heavy double doors were still blackened in spots from the damage caused by the fire eight months before.

Lucy knocked once and waited. She could hear music coming from inside and discreetly peered through one of the windows. There were trestle tables scattered with power tools and neat stacks of timber on the floor near the long bar, and the wall between the remaining booth seats and the back room that had once housed pool tables had been pulled down. She knocked again, louder this time, and then again. The music stopped. By the time the door swung back she was shivering with cold, her knuckles were pink and her patience a little frayed.

Until she saw him. Then her mouth turned dry and her knees knocked for an altogether different reason.

He wore jeans and a navy sweater that molded to his shoulders and chest like a second skin. His dark hair was ruffled, as though he’d just run a hand through it, and the very idea made her palms tingle. His blue eyes shimmered and his jaw was set tightly. He looked surprised to see her on his doorstep. And not one bit welcoming.