Munro Stranded With Ella (Military Men, #4)

1. Auflage 2019
ISBN: 978-0-473-47455-3
Verlag: Shelley Munro
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 188 Seiten

Reihe: Military Men

A ghost propels them together. Danger will try to rip them apart...
Ella Liddington-Walsh is turning quietly-make that noisily-insane, and it is all soldier Dillon Williams's fault because the ghost harassing Ella belongs to HIM. Sleep-deprived and desperate, she drives to his country property to confront the man. One way or another, she will pass on her problem and finally sleep through the entire night. Not that her task will be easy since Dillon strikes her as a no-nonsense military man. A believer in ghosts-not so much.

Widower Dillon judges Ella's pink hair, her weird stories of haunting and decides she's crazy. He sends her packing, but a landslide brings the sassy lady returning like a boomerang. Unable to deny her shelter during the stormy night, he discovers an unwilling fascination and attraction for the curvy Ella, along with common ground and whoa! Steamy hijinks in his big bed.

After his wife's murder, Dillon isn't looking for romance, but a chance discovery brings the past and the present on a collision. Dillon realizes he likes Ella more than he should, and if he doesn't stay alert, he'll lose her in the same way he lost his wife.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Munro, Shelley

Leseproben

2 – Body Language

Ella came awake gradually, warm and snug in her bed. For the first time in ages, the ghost hadn’t woken her with loud thumps and rattling pipes or chilly breezes, allowing her a refreshing night of rest. She stretched, stilling when she realized someone shared the bed with her. Her pulse raced a tad faster as she rifled through her mind, trying to recall the how and why. Not a memory surfaced. She came up empty. Not surprising, given she never functioned well on awakening. Her morning required a cup of tea to kick her brain into gear.

Ella fumbled for her bedside lamp, her hand waving at air. Then she remembered. She wasn’t at home. This wasn’t her bed.

So who the devil—?

“Stop fidgeting. It’s still early,” a masculine voice rumbled through the darkness.

“You! Why are you in my bed?” Ella attempted to scramble farther away and almost fell out of bed. “Ahh!”

“It’s mine. You’re in my bed,” he corrected as his arm came around her waist and he hauled her back to her original position.

“The same one as me, you big oaf. Why are we in bed together?”

“Because it’s the only one I have and I didn’t want to freeze my arse off trying to sleep on the couch.”

“I would’ve taken the couch.”

He paused. “That makes no sense. You were asleep. I hated to wake you.”

Ella swallowed, every muscle filled with tension. “That isn’t your knee pushing into my backside.”

He chuckled, the sound rusty as if he either didn’t laugh much or hadn’t for a long time. “I’m a male, honey. I can’t help it.”

“That’s what all the men say,” she muttered.

“Oh? Sleep with lots of men, do you?”

“That is not what I said. Can’t you shift over, so I can get out of bed?”

“Why?”

“You’re making me nervous.”

Dillon shifted a fraction and removed his arm from around her waist. Unaccountably, she missed the contact straightaway.

“Apart from shifting in my sleep, I’ve done nothing to indicate I intend to rape you. My mother raised me better than that. I converse with my lovers before we have sex.”

A scoffing sound escaped Ella. “You’ve never had a one-night fling? Surely not. I’ve got eyes.”

That arm slipped around her waist again, this time turning her body until they faced each other. Dark screened her view, but his citrus scent and manly musk filled her rapid breaths.

“What do your eyes tell you?” Humor filled his question. “Please answer. This week I’ve had a procession of uninvited female visitors.”

“Is that why you were so rude to me?” Ella relaxed, eased by his amusement.

“Partly.”

“My eyes tell me you’re a handsome man and take after your father. In case you’re wondering—I’ve met him at couple of times at local functions. You’re big and fit and if we lived in the caveman days, I, along with every other cavewoman would queue to win you because of your muscular arse.”

“I…what?”

Ella held back a giggle.

“What has my arse got to do with anything?” His tone held a touch of uneasiness.

She withheld a grin at his discomfort. “A muscular and tight masculine arse tells a woman this man has good forward propulsion, which is required to transfer sperm.”

“Is that true?”

“I have a book on body language. We read it for book club last month.”

“I’m unsure if I should be terrified or not. You mean to say the women in your local book club have read this book and checked out the available men?”

“Your mother goes to the book club.”

Dillon said nothing for long seconds. “Change the subject. I do not want to picture my mother, backsides and sperm transfer in the same sentence ever again.”

“Body language tells you a lot about a person.”

“Obviously,” he said. “You sound chirpy. Every time I woke during the night, you were snoring.”

“I do not snore.”

“You have no way of disproving me.” He sounded distinctly smug.

“It’s stopped raining.” She pictured her car and the possible damage. “How long will it take to clear the road?”

“Months, if I know the local council.”

“Months.” Her horror echoed and bounced back to strike her brain for a second time. “You’re joking.”

“There are three properties on this road. The council will have other more important damage to repair.”

“But how will I get home? I have work today. I can’t stay here. My boss will worry because I’m reliable. Responsible.”

Dillon said nothing for a while. “We’ll get out a phone call or an email to tell people you’re okay.”

“My phone doesn’t work here. I tried after…after I crawled out of my car and was in a safer place.”

“I have a satellite phone for emergencies. It was for Hana.”

Since she had been alone at the farm. Ella interpreted the subtext and understood without further explanations. Hana’s murder had hit the national news and had occurred shortly before she’d moved to Eketahuna, and she’d picked up local gossip since. It was difficult not to tap into the local news and scandal. Her Masterton girlfriends had expressed horror at her decision to move closer to her job, but Ella hadn’t regretted her decision. Her social life was busy these days, which reminded her.

“I have a date tonight and standing him up is mean. Wait—is it possible to walk home?”

“It’s possible, but the forecast is for more rain.”

“Oh.” The thought of repeating her journey put a dampener on that plan. “I hate to inconvenience you.”

“My bed was warm when I got into it last night. That’s a plus.”

Ella bit her lip. The sleep had recharged her, but she didn’t want to share his bed for another night.

Somewhere outside, a dog barked.

Dillon groaned. “Rufus is my alarm clock. It must be seven. I can’t believe I’ve slept this late.”

“Haven’t you been sleeping well either?”

“Bad dreams.”

Succinct and to the point. Ella assumed he’d carry emotional luggage since he was on active duty. Local gossip said he was NZSAS, part of New Zealand’s elite fighting soldiers. Only the best military men made it into the New Zealand Special Air Service. She understood the younger Williams brother was also SAS.

Dillon moved away from her and let a waft of frigid air under the covers as he climbed out of bed. He flicked on a bedside lamp, and she received the perfect view of his boxer-clad backside as he bent over to open a drawer. He pulled out a pair of jeans and donned them while Ella stared at his naked back.

When he turned to her, heat suffused her cheeks. Caught in the act.

“Sorry,” she blurted. “Your backside is spectacular.”

“I will put that on my CV,” he said drily. “Stay in bed. I’m going outside to feed Rufus and let out the alpacas to graze. It sounds as if it’s still raining.”

Ella swallowed and barely resisted tugging the covers over her head. Dillon Williams wasn’t bad when he relaxed. She let out a groan once the front door slammed. Her workday started at eight-thirty. She scrambled out of bed and spotted her handbag, right where she’d left it. Perhaps she could get a call through now. She powered up her phone. Nothing. Just perfect. Michael would ask nosy questions. She hadn’t informed him of her ghost and the message for Dillon. Actually, she hadn’t shared this info with anyone, fearful of them consigning her to Crazy Town.

Unable to go back to sleep, Ella rifled through the pile of clothes Dillon had given her and dressed in a T-shirt, sweatpants and a hoodie. Everything was too big, but she used her dress belt to hold the pants in place and rolled back the hoodie sleeves. A thick pair of socks completed her outfit.

Last night, she had paid little attention to the interior of the house. It was bigger inside than she’d guessed. Bits of wallpaper drooped in places, the pattern screaming of the seventies. Dillon’s bedroom appeared freshly decorated, although it held sparse furnishings. The bathroom, too, was modern with a sparkling white-and-chrome shower stall. The white clawfoot tub was positioned to overlook a stand of native trees and the skylight above would offer a great view of the stars on a clear night. Right now, a gray, sullen sky filled the square.

In a continuation of her tour, she poked her nose into the rooms off the passage. One room was full of boxes and furniture. Another seventies fashion statement. The next room was also recently decorated. Cream paint covered three of the walls and teal, gold-and-cream curtains dressed the windows. The fourth wall was one big mural, showing a desert scene and a herd of camels. A discreet signature in the bottom right corner told her Hana Williams had painted the slice of home. A spinning wheel filled one corner, partially woven fleece hanging from the spindle as if the owner had stepped away for a few minutes.

Ella backed out of the room and closed the door. Hana had enjoyed it here. Ella sensed that with every particle of her body. She blinked away the sheen of tears that collected in her eyes. Sorrow and sympathy pressed on her chest. How unfair for Hana to escape the dangers of Afghanistan only to die violently in peaceful New Zealand.

Another doorway led to a lounge still decorated in seventies fashion. A weird mustard-yellow paper covered the walls, although the wear and tear wasn’t as bad in this room, which was probably why Dillon and Hana hadn’t redecorated this space yet. A huge television hung on one wall while a cozy green two-seater and two...