What are you now, a poet? Get your jaw off the floor.

Kenna hated surprises unless she was the one delivering them. She’d been expecting someone who might have a poster of Neil deGrasse Tyson on his wall. Instead, she’d gotten an NFL quarterback. He might have been a linebacker, if it weren’t for his distinct All-American, good-ol’-boy, Kenny Chesney-listening, Levi’s-wearing, mama’s-home-cooking-eating vibe. It was louder than the goddamn marching band.

“Depends.” She let her gaze drop to his tree-trunk-sized thighs under the pretense of adjusting her sunglasses. “Are you Major Beck Collier?”

His grin was a mile wide. “At your service, ma’am.”

Good god. What was that accent? Georgia? Definitely the south. “Look, dude. Anytime you want to stop ma’am-ing me would be swell.”

Smile slipping, he nodded as if she’d imparted life-saving instructions. “Is there something I can call you instead?”

Hold the phone. This guy didn’t even know her name. Which meant…he didn’t know she was Lieutenant General Sutton’s daughter? When walking around base, she might as well wear a flashing neon sign that said looky no touchy. And oh, they looked. She made sure of it. But on the rare occasion a man actually approached, he was clued in pronto about whose loins she’d sprung forth from. Kenna had no intention of taking advantage of True Blue, being that he was the furthest thing from her type as one could get. But at least she wouldn’t be treated like Kenna, Spawn of Sutton, throughout the drive.

“I’m Kenna. Welcome back and whatnot.” Suddenly at a loss without her name to precede her, she gestured to the canvas bag on the ground. “Do you need help with that?”

His expression was one of horror. “No, ma’am—Kenna. I can manage.” He shifted on his size-nine-hundred feet. “Do you need help with anything?”

She looked around. “Like what? Walking?”

Unbelievable. This handsome, hulking man actually turned a little red. “Just in general, I guess.” He gave a little head shake. “You’ll have to pardon me. I haven’t been around a woman for a while. You caught me a little off guard, is all. I didn’t expect—”

“Expect what?”

He appeared to be struggling with the effort to keep his gaze above her neck. Which was a huge feat, considering she wore a leather bustier and skintight, low-rise jeans that left several inches of her belly exposed. Honestly, her boobs were looking at him. Anyone with a penis should have returned the favor by now and usually did. Without fail. His Adam’s apple slid up and down. “Can we start over?”

“Nope. What didn’t you expect?”

Beck’s blue eyes fell to hers, then looked away again. Anywhere but at her. “I guess I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect my ride to be so beautiful she makes my stomach hurt. I didn’t expect that.” He ducked his head and breezed past her, toward the parking lot, while Kenna stood frozen to the pavement.

* * *

Five minutes back on US soil and you’ve already made a jackass out of yourself.

Beck hefted his bag higher on his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the pain that ripped through his right side. Or maybe he should acknowledge it. Focus in on the wound’s discomfort, let it spread down to his toes. It might take his mind off the girl he could hear jogging to catch up with him. Should she really be jogging in that shirt? Could one even call it a shirt?

Mind your manners. Beck slowed down until they were walking side by side, but kept his gaze resolutely on the parking lot ahead. Didn’t it figure the good Lord would test him the moment he landed? He’d been warned the transition back to civilian life wouldn’t be easy. Learning how to grocery shop, buying sneakers, eating at Denny’s. He could—would—handle those things. But five tempting feet of female curves and attitude? No, sir. Beck wasn’t quite ready for that.

For the first time, he regretted not asking his twin sister, Huntley—a nurse on base—to pick him up. Or his best friend, Cullen, who worked on base training soldiers in explosives and demolition. Both of them would have dropped everything at a moment’s notice. He’d just needed some time. Time to wrap his mind around being home for the first time in six years. Time to prepare himself for the news he would impart. Time to accept that everything had changed.

Kenna’s smoky incense scent might as well have been a wrench twisting in his gut. He didn’t have firsthand knowledge of what those ancient gypsy women who sold magic smelled like, but he reckoned it was similar to Kenna. The keyword being similar, because he somehow knew her scent couldn’t be replicated on another woman.

Listen to yourself. What do you know about women?

For the last year, he’d been locked inside a command center full of high-ranking officers, field scientists, journalists. Before that? Well, he’d been waiting. Would still be waiting, if there was anything left to wait for back home in Georgia.

They reached the parking lot and Beck immediately moved behind Kenna, guiding her without touching through the moving sea of cars. From this position, he could pull her back if a vehicle moved too fast. Touching would be required for that, though, so he prayed it wasn’t necessary. Or was he praying for the exact opposite? Don’t look at her backside.

She threw a look at him over her shoulder, green eyes glowing just above the rim of her sunglasses. “You in a rush to be somewhere, Major?”

Home. So I can get rid of this pain in my stomach. This wasn’t his home, though. It was only temporary.

“No rush.” He followed her lead down the last row of cars, watching as she sent the sign bearing his name fluttering into a metal garbage can. “I figure you have somewhere you’d rather be than chauffeuring me around base.”

Kenna stopped at the trunk of a blue Challenger—a beaut, to be sure—and turned to face him. “I’m a firm believer that Sundays should be spent in bed. Don’t you agree?”

Beck lassoed the groan trying to break free from his throat, yanking it back. The thought of her tossing around in tangled sheets...

Enough. This girl was doing him a kindness, and his mind could only muster inappropriate thoughts. Someone who looked, moved and spoke like her was probably on the receiving end of such thoughts on a regular basis. He wouldn’t repeat the pattern, although intuition told Beck she wanted him to. “I tend to agree, Kenna.” He nodded once. “You should always take the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Sleep is nature’s reset button.”

A laugh bubbled from her lips. “You aren’t going to fit in here, True Blue.”

The husky endearment made the wrench below his belt tighten. “It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be here long then.”

For some reason, his response seemed to remind her of something. She stepped toward the car, digging in her front pocket to pull out a jingling set of car keys. The action tugged the denim low—way too low—giving him a glimpse at the barbed wire tattoo circling her hips and the edge of sheer black panties. Beck’s mouth went dry as the desert he’d returned from. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she popped the trunk and lifted it. Her stomach muscles stretched, the shirt—was it even a shirt?—gliding up her taut stomach and tightening over her high breasts.

Beck swung the bag off his shoulder and held it over his lap before she could witness his reaction to her body. His hard-on was becoming a serious problem. It wouldn’t go away as long as Kenna was in the vicinity, and they still had the car ride to get through.

“Throw your bag in the trunk.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll hang on to it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “The passenger side of my car will barely fit you, let alone all your earthly possessions.”