Chapter Ten

Zandra stood at the train platform, empty now save for the single row of parked trains extending back as far as she could see in one direction. Apparently even small towns got their fair share of train traffic.

She frowned. This totally sucked, but then again, the situation made for a great behind-the-scenes story. She framed the row of trains on her phone screen and snapped a photo, labeled it STRANDED, added a freaked-out sticker, and uploaded it.

She panned the rows of empty platforms and captured the distant sounds of train brakes. Another train stranded until the tracks were repaired. It wouldn’t be long before a fresh batch of passengers disembarked. She stuck a nervous sticker on her video, tagged her location in Lucerne, and sent that off, too.

There. That was a start.

Quickly she turned the camera on herself. “Well, this is a set-back, but don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.” She ended the video with a thumbs up and a big smile. Hopefully, it was convincing enough that her family and friends wouldn’t do a panicked slide into her DMs.

She uploaded the last story, shoved her phone in her pocket, and looked around. No doubt there’d be a premium paid for transportation to Switzerland and beyond. Good thing she had that part already handled. Not that Bossy Blake stuck around long enough to listen. He’d learn soon enough how she’d met a challenge. Train schedules and the German language aside, she was more than capable of figuring out this whole life thing.

In her pocket, her phone notifications went crazy. Startled, she scrambled to free the device and opened Instagram.

Are you okay?

Where’s the hot guy you’re traveling with?

This is something straight out of a romance novel

HEY. Don’t you DARE get yourself killed before my wedding! I mean it!

Leave it to Tina to throw out a threat an entire continent away. Zandra laughed as she sent her friend a response.

But then there were other responses, these from people she’d never heard of. Frowning, she scrolled through her DMs. And there it was. Flights and Sights had shared the post of pictures she’d uploaded to their story and tagged her. She switched over to her activity page, and sure enough, she’d jumped up over a hundred followers. And those followers must’ve been going through her feed, because there were a bunch of new likes on her posts.

Holy crap.

Breathe, Zandra. This is a good thing. More visibility equals more potential jobs.

The thought shifted her momentary anxiety to pride. Her pictures were good. Good enough that the travel zine shared them, rather than waiting for the staged pictures she was hired to take.

After assuring a few more people, she replaced her phone and adjusted her backpack just as the next wave of stranded travelers walked past. It was probably time to head back to ground zero—the spot where Blake had left her with growled-out instructions not to move.

As. If. He didn’t own her.

The thought had no sooner formed than the man himself climbed the last step onto the platform.

He stopped a few feet away, and Zandra could almost see tension oozing out of him in his stance, in the set line of his jaw. He was a coil of stored energy, and if there was any doubt before, it all crystallized when their gazes locked.

All thoughts of sharing her good news fled in an instant.

They were close enough that she saw the relief and anger and lust blended together in his eyes. It created a vibe so strong it nearly took her breath away.

Then he stalked toward her. And there was no doubt he was stalking. Broad shoulders, long strides, and an intensity in the way he’d slapped his ball cap over his head as he approached. Oh, he meant business, all right. Serious business.

She offered a small smile as he neared. “Hey.”

“I thought I told you to stay put.” He bit the words out as he scanned her from head to toe.

Yeah, he wasn’t exactly happy with her at the moment. “I couldn’t get a good connection in there, so I came out here.”

“And you didn’t bother to call or even text me?”

“I wasn’t going to be gone long.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that I meant it when I said to stay put?” His voice was low, soft, controlled.

Oh God, he was seriously pissed. But it was more than that. She stared at the frown on his face and the tight line of his mouth. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Fear was stamped there as surely as light made all the difference during a photo shoot. It was enough to make Zandra’s stomach churn. “Okay, I’m sorry you’re so mad, but—”

“I’m not mad, I’m frustrated. Frustrated because I can get two hundred soldiers to follow orders, but I can’t get a stubborn blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman to stay in one place.” He blew out a breath and gave her a hard stare. “And I’m not sure what to do with you.”

“Oh. Well…I had work to do. I had—”

“Let me guess, you just had to get online.”

“Hey, there’s no reason to mock me,” she said, stepping back. “It’s part of my job. Not that I’d expect you to understand.”

“What I understand, Zandra, is that I’m responsible for you whether you like it or not.” He sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head while his gaze never left hers. “I was worried something had happened to you.”

He reached a hand out and stepped toward her at the same time, and before Zandra could think about it too hard, she was in his arms, her body pressed against his. Her breath caught as the enormity of the situation crashed with her brain’s processing function.

Blake was afraid for her, afraid something had happened to her. Was this a good thing? Did she want it to be a good thing? She’d just found her footing, found her freedom, and here was a guy all over himself worried about her.

Yet through the tumult of emotions that toppled her over and under and back again, the one thought that stood out amongst the rest? Being in Blake Monroe’s arms felt as normal as breathing. She closed her eyes and soaked in the scent of his cologne mixed in with a healthy dose of detergent. Who knew laundry soap could smell so sexy?

He pulled back, his hands cupping her face, thumbs lightly caressing her cheeks. Awareness trickled through her, marching into every cell until all she saw was this man, this moment.

“I don’t know whether I should kiss you or yell at you.”

His soft words flowed through her, kicking her pulse higher. Was he offering her the choice? Because she knew which she preferred.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer a kiss.”

He rumbled a laugh and moved closer. “If you change your mind, just say so and I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” That was the truth, she realized, mesmerized by his powerful gaze.

The kiss started out soft, slow, as they learned the feel and taste of each other. His lips were firm, inviting, so much so that Zandra tilted her head, angling for more of his taste, more of his touch.

She placed both hands on his T-shirt, the soft fabric covering what she’d suspected, and now knew, was a solid chest, likely chiseled and smoothed from hours of Army-required PT.

His hands were busy, too. One hand traced her hip, the other caressed her face so gently, slowly, methodically as his lips played on hers, teasing them apart and requesting an entry she was only all too happy to give.

His tongue swept in and explored, tasted, dueled for control, and she fought the heady feeling she was diving into an emotional lake and would lose herself in its depths, that she wanted to lose herself in it. Time, distance, location…none of it had any meaning in this moment. No, this moment belonged to them. Only them.

Blake groaned and slowly pulled back but didn’t let go, his hands stroked her sides before fisting against her jeans.

In slow motion, the world came back into focus, the sounds of footsteps registered… Someone clapped… And heat from the mid-morning sun seeped through her lust-induced fog.

Zandra’s eyes flashed open. What was she doing?

His breathing was heavy, as if it had taken every ounce in him to pull away. She could relate.

But before she could say anything, he blinked and stepped back.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for, Zandra.” He spiked his fingers through his hair.

Her body screamed at the loss of contact, even as mortification crept up her neck. “Which part?”

“You know which part.”

“The part when I chose you kissing me over listening to a lecture about why I should fall in line like one of your soldiers? Because I still believe the kiss was a better option to me.”

His jaw tightened. “It wasn’t right.”

Probably not, but she wasn’t telling him that. She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus on the now not-so-empty train platform, the people walking past speaking in a variety of different languages, the beauty of the Swiss Alps in the background… Really, he was doing her a favor, backing off like that. There were so many things to see, and they hadn’t even started her work project yet.

“Hey.” Blake reached for her shoulders and hunched over to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. Really. Are we good?”

She gave a mock sigh. “You’ve ruined me for any other man, but yeah. We’re good.” When his hands fell to his sides and his jaw dropped, she laughed. “I’m kidding, Blake. Can we get out of here? We need to get to Lucerne and find Madame Pruissard’s chocolate shop.” The chocolate shop. Her first paid assignment. The reason they were in Switzerland.

“Okay, then.” He released her shoulders and straightened, blasting her with a smile that reached across the small space between them. She swallowed past the tide of longing and kept her gaze firmly trained on his, especially since she now knew what his lips tasted like and wouldn’t mind another sample.

They headed toward the front of the train station, and Blake pulled out his phone and nodded. “I’ve got a buddy here who owes me a favor. I can call—”

“No need.” She smiled at her foresight. She could do the life thing, regardless of what her parents might think. “I’ve got it handled.”

“Oh?” Blake raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I did some research before I left Seattle and found a European start-up company—kinda like Uber, except these are people who are actually headed to the place you want to go. So it’s not like they’re just driving around wasting gas between rides.”

“Like Uber?” He was doing that skeptical raised eyebrow thing again. “Do you mean MOOV?”

Of course he knew about it. “That’s the one. It’s fairly new, but it’s gotten some really great press.” She glanced at her phone. “The driver should be here pretty soon.”

Once they were outside, Blake crossed his arms, looking sexier than anyone she’d noticed in a very long time. “What vehicle are we looking for?”

“It’s kind of hard to tell from the photo. All I see is that it’s black.” She peered at the screen. “We just have to look for the MOOV flag on the dash. And the driver will text me when he gets close.” She pulled her phone out and stared at the screen. “Looks like Moe is on his way.” She held her hand up to shield her face as she surveyed the street. “I texted that we’d be by the curb, so I guess we should head that way.”

Blake swept his hand in front of him. “After you.”

“You’re going to let me be in charge?”

“This is your show, and I believe you said you’ve got it handled, so I’m just along for the ride.”

“Gee, thanks.” It was about time he trusted her. She stared at the moving blue dot on her screen as it approached where they were standing. “He’s here.” She looked up and studied the line of cars headed toward them, most turning before reaching the street that wound its way to the train station’s main entrance. For a small town, there sure was a lot of traffic.

She pointed her phone at the approaching vehicles and started recording. “Our MOOV driver’s almost here, and then we’ll be on our way to Lucerne and my first photo shoot.”

She glanced up as a fire-engine red car approached the intersection, then continued through it. “I’m glad it wasn’t that one. Seemed kind of small. Has anyone else noticed how small most European cars are? I’m hoping we get something a little bigger.”

She turned the phone to Blake. “Wave to Instagram.”

He gave an uneasy smile and managed a wave. Well, at least it was something.

“Oh, here comes another car,” she said, panning the phone back to the roadway. The approaching vehicle was black and big and…

Wait…was that…

She frowned and looked up from the phone screen as the vehicle crossed the intersection toward the station, flicked its lights three times, and pulled to a stop in front of her. It certainly was bigger than the other cars. Wider, too—and for good reason.

Their ride was a freaking hearse.

Beside her, Blake’s deep chuckle turned into a cough.

On the dash was MOOV’s distinctive blue and white logo. The driver stepped out of the car, a short, stocky man with a huge grin on his face. “Are you Zandra York?” the driver politely asked in heavily accented English.

Half of her wanted to lie, but it was hard to do with Blake snickering beside her. At least she didn’t have the camera pointed in her direction, because she probably looked as shocked as she felt. “I am,” she finally said.

Blake nudged her. “If you don’t post this, I’ll steal your phone and do it myself.”

She lowered her phone and glared at him. Would it be appropriate to punch your brother’s best friend less than five minutes after he gave you arguably the best kiss of your life?

If not, it should be.