Sloane straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She’d never let Gavin trick her into believing his lies again. He had a problem. One she couldn’t fix. “I’m calling the rehab clinic,” she said. “I need to confirm if he’s still there or not.”

“While you do that, I’ll contact the sheriff and update him with the information,” Ben said. then he pulled out his phone.

A tingling warmth filled her chest and zips of electricity raced along her nerves. She’d been taking care of herself so long she’d forgotten how to ask for help. But Ben didn’t wait for her to ask. He just did what had to be done.

A girl could get used to someone looking after her, even temporarily. That Ben treated her with respect, trusting her to do the right thing too, put the cherry on top of her attraction. And all her female parts agreed. Just having him within inches of her made her hormones hopscotch.

She plugged in the rehab clinic’s number and the receptionist answered after three rings. While Ben spoke to the sheriff, Sloane confirmed her worst fears. Gavin had checked out of rehab two days earlier. “And you have no idea where he’s gone?” she asked, pacing the room.

“Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you. Patient privacy,” the receptionist said.

“I understand,” Sloane said. She ended the call and checked her barrage of texts again for any clue about Gavin’s whereabouts.

“Great.” She rubbed her forehead after she read one from her former producer and so-called friend. The walls closed in on her. Air bottled in her lungs. She wanted to run, get out of the room. “Just great. I can’t believe Deirdre arranged this nightmare.”

“Who’s Deirdre?”

“She’s one of the Montana Mavericks’ producers. I warned her not to listen to him, but she fell for his charm anyway. Even after what he did to me. Damn it.” She paced in front of the bed. Everything inside her shook with a vicious force, making her shudder. “God. Will I ever escape Gavin? I’m so over dodging him.” She finished her rant, stopping to face Ben.

“I take it he’s not in rehab anymore.”

“Nope. He’s on location filming a mini-series event with the Montana Mavericks,” she said. “Just outside of Bozeman. It’s a last-ditch attempt to save the television series.” Gavin had never forgiven her for leaving the show when she’d accepted Trevor Maguire’s job offer. Her dreams had come true. Instead of supporting her, he'd blamed Sloane for the show’s ratings going down the toilet.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Probably. I don’t know.” Sloane inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “I should have left him a lot sooner.” But he’d made her feel so special, so adored when he’d first pursued her. His flattery blinded her to his shallowness until much later. She’d always been a bit on the outside in Los Angeles. Her height and normal size didn’t fit the entertainment industry’s standards, which valued perfection and flawless figures.

“Doesn’t matter when you left, it only matters that you had the strength to get out when you did. Not everyone has the will to stand up for themselves.”

“I just broke through a terrible writer’s block. Now I’m not sure I can finish the script in time. Not with him looming in the background.”

“The sheriff knows Gavin’s a potential threat.” Ben closed the scant distance between them, clasped her shoulders with a gentle, consoling squeeze, and held her gaze. “You’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Delaney says you’re one of the best in the industry. I believe her, based on what I remember about Montana Mavericks when you wrote for the show. Focus on completing the screenplay while I focus on making sure this shithead doesn’t fuck up your life again. Deal?”

The heat of his touch sent a thrilling sensation through her. He was close… so close she could see flecks of brown and gold in his hazel eyes. And his clean, masculine scent made her crave so much more than his steady reassurance.

Here stood an honorable man any woman could love… and trust. Who wouldn’t want him? She sure did. But she’d keep her naughty ideas about being with Ben Lawson that way locked down in the don’t-make-things-complicated closet of her mind. She’d been burned badly by her ex, and no way would she put herself in that position again. Not until she regained her full independence.

Still, she’d been brought up to believe whatever you got in life, you had to earn. Since trading sex for his help didn’t factor into the equation, she had to come up with another way to even the playing field.

Sloane played with her necklace to center herself, twirling the simple infinity symbol that matched the tattoo on her wrist. “Deal,” she said. “But you have to let me do something to return the favor.”

Ben caught sight of the rapid pulse beating in the hollow of Sloane’s throat while she played with her necklace. Electricity charged between them with a force he’d never experienced before and his palms itched. He wanted to slide his hands down her arms and then bring her into his, hold her… kiss those plump lips…

He released her shoulders before he acted on the impulse and took a step back to break their invisible, magnetic connection. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” Ben said, though he could come up with a whole bunch of fun ways to spend time with her.

“I refuse to take no for an answer.” She shook her head, and the riot of black curls danced around her gorgeous face. “I never write after five in the afternoon. Firm rule. That’s when I cook. And I’m a damn good cook too. So here’s the deal. You protect me during your military leave and I make you gourmet dinners in exchange.”

Ben’s gut grumbled on cue. “Fair enough,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a decent meal, let alone a gourmet dinner.”

“Sounds like you could use something to eat now.” She looked at his stomach and then back into his eyes. “How about I whip up something simple for us? You good with fancy grilled cheese and soup?”

Mischief danced in her brown eyes, making them sparkle. Hell yeah. He liked how quickly she rallied. And she had an open heart despite all she’d been through. “Sounds excellent.”

“Let’s get to it, then.”

By the following Monday, Ben had an even greater respect for Sloane. She had a can-do attitude that matched his own, but they’d settled into an easy rhythm where he’d spend the day ensuring no one and nothing suspicious existed while she wrote. Then, just as she’d promised, Sloane cooked for him.

Man. Could she cook. He’d have to double his workouts while he waited to hear from his commander to unravel what had happened in Afghanistan during his mission.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Sure.” She indicated the open bottle of red on the counter while stirring some garlicky onion mixture in the sauté pan. “Make it a double. Rough day in the chair today.”

“You’ve got this,” Ben said as he took a wine glass out of the cupboard and poured the cabernet. “Here.” He gave it to her, and her fingers brushed against his when she took the glass. Electricity sparked instantly and charged through him.

Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and the glass trembled before she set it on the counter beside the stovetop. She played with the infinity symbol on her necklace, once again drawing his attention to the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.

For one long, buzzing second, a hell of a lot of heat crackled in the air. Damn. He’d been dealing with his desire with extra tough workouts. Looked like he’d have to add cold showers to his regimen.

He swallowed hard and moved to the fridge to retrieve a craft beer. He drank a third to kill his appetite for Sloane. Didn’t work. “You want to go into Eagle Rock?” he asked, hoping he could talk his way out of wanting her. “Get some decent winter clothes?” She’d been woefully unprepared for Montana’s harsh winter with her hoodies, yoga pants, and thin socks.

“Yes. How about in a couple of days? It’ll be a reward for getting ahead on my word count.” She added sliced prosciutto to her concoction and continued stirring. “Then I’ll treat you to burgers at Al’s Diner afterward.”

“How do you stay in shape eating the way you do?” he asked.

“I eat what I want but never more than I need. It’s all about the quality, not the quantity for me. I refuse to deprive myself to be a size zero. Tried that once and I’ve never been more miserable,” she said matter-of-factly. “I may not be model thin, but no amount of starvation will get me to that point.”

Thank God. He’d never been into boney women. He liked them curvy. “I like you the way you are.” He chugged some more beer before his brain started pinging pictures of her naked and beneath him while he showed her how much he loved her full breasts and awesome ass.

She stopped mid-stride and gave him a tentative smile. “Not too many guys like normal-sized women where I come from.” She moved around him to lift a casserole dish filled with tortellini. “Good thing I make my living behind the scenes and not on the screen.”

“Their loss.”

“Ha. If you say so.” She pivoted back to the stovetop and her wild, curly hair bounced. “Not that I’m in the market for another man.”

Damn. She smelled good. Spicy and sexy and sweet as spun sugar. His mouth watered for more than the dinner she prepped… he wanted to lick her skin, taste her essence and… he leaned closer to inhale more of her unique feminine scent. “Not even for a bit of fun?” he couldn’t resist asking. Because, man! He wanted to have fun with her in the worst way.

And his hardening cock agreed 100 percent.

She stilled her movements and turned to face him. Her dark brown eyes had grown black as night, and pink bloomed on her cheeks as she studied him. “You suggesting a fling?” she asked. “No strings attached?”

“Why not? You want me. I want you. We have this enormous house all to ourselves.” He stepped a little closer, took the dangling wooden spoon from her hand, and set it down beside the simmering pan. “And you don’t write at night. Having fun might be an excellent way to take a break.” Would she go for it? Would she say yes? Or would she toss that pan of food in his face?

He waited for what seemed an eternity for her to answer him. Finally, she parted her lips to reply. “Now or after dinner?”

Huzzah! He did an inner fist pump. But before he could act on the invitation, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hold on to that thought. Could be important.” He’d been waiting to hear from his commanding officer all day.

She smiled. “Sounds like we should wait until after dinner.”

Another huzzah! “Good plan.”

While she returned her attention to prepping their meal, Ben pulled out his cell phone to check his messages. If he got the news he wanted, fun with Sloane Bishop would be even more awesome. But when he heard his commanding officer’s lousy news, he stopped in his tracks.

His stomach clenched. Acid burned the back of his throat. The red tape choking his career had him questioning his decision to join the Marines. Fuck.

“Hey. I’ve got to skip dinner.” He tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Take care of a problem. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Anything I can help you with?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“Nope. The less I say about this, the better.” He had options. But chasing them down meant putting his earlier proposition on a permanent pause. “See you tomorrow.”