Task Force Bride by Julie Miller Page A

comfortably than she’d ever dreamed possible back on that remote patch of land in the Ozark woods. She could do this, too. She could live with a man for a few days. She could tolerate his dog and get used to their habits. She could even learn to be more convincing as half of a couple.
    Still, her heart beat faster and her breath locked up in her chest when she saw the big man sleeping in the bed. Pike Taylor’s broad shoulders and naked chest seemed at odds with the white, eyelet-trimmed sheets and hand sewn quilt draped around his waist. A more familiar light coming through the eyelet curtains at the window dappled his skin with tiny spots of sunshine, highlighting golden spikes of hair among the sandy shades of tan and brown on his scruffy jaw and chin, and farther down, in the hair that dusted his chest and narrowed into a thin line running down his flat stomach and disappearing beneath the sheet.
    Watching a grown man sleep was as mesmerizing as it was unfamiliar. Other than her brother, Harry, her father ages ago, or catching an accidental glimpse of a customer trying on a tux in her changing rooms downstairs, half-naked men weren’t something she’d had much experience with. She’d never had that much muscle and testosterone sleeping in her apartment.
    Hope’s skin suddenly burned beneath her nightgown and robe, and her mouth went dry. She was assuming Pike Taylor was only half- naked. What if he wasn’t? Her pulse thundered in her ears. She’d certainly never had that in her apartment.
    The twin bronze medallions that marked him as uniquely male had puckered in the cool air and stood at attention atop the even rise and fall of his chest, mocking her inability to make a decision. Should she wake him up to tell him about the car? Politely retreat until he was awake and back in uniform?
    They probably should have talked about the bathroom schedule and sleeping regalia last night while they were discussing ground rules for this charade. What if he was a sleepwalker? What if he sat up in bed right now and the quilt drifted farther south?
    “It’s not polite to stare.”
    Hope gasped as Pike’s deep, husky voice startled her from across the room. He was awake? He’d been watching her...watch him? One blue eye blinked open, confirming the worst. Embarrassment heated her face as the second eye opened. “There was a car out front,” she blurted. “It’s gone.” Sound like an idiot much? “I’m sorry.” She was already backing from the room, pulling the door closed behind her. “I am so sorry.”
    “Hope? Wait. What car?”
    Smooth, woman. She tucked her robe together at the neck and dashed to the kitchen. His teasing tone made it sound as though she’d been admiring the scenery. She hadn’t been, had she? Not intentionally. She’d been curious. Concerned. She was just trying to get used to having a man in her home so she wouldn’t freak out like...like the way she was doing right now. “Good grief.”
    If Pike had any doubts about her ability to pretend she was in love with him, she’d just confirmed them.
    “Hope?”
    She spun around the corner in her haste to get away from the door opening behind her. Her hip bumped a chair and rammed it against the table, knocking the lid off the sugar bowl and waking up the beast sleeping by the front door. Hope shrieked at Hans’s deep woof and reversed course, plowing into Pike’s bare chest.
    Her fingers brushed across ticklish hair and warm sinew before she flattened her palms against a sculpted swell of muscle and pushed away. The heat of his skin sizzled beneath her cool hands and her vision swam with a blur of faded blue. Hope realized he had on a pair of old jeans, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Thank God, you’re wearing pants.”
    “Huh?”
    The dog barked again, either at her flighty distress or excitement at seeing his master.
    Or the gun he held in his hand.
    “Oh!” Hope ducked behind Pike, her fingers