Haunted Warrior Read Free

such an intimate way—­how his gaze slid over her, lingering in places that stirred a reaction. He made her
want
, his slow-­roaming assessment sluicing her with desire.
    She tried to glance aside, pretending she hadn’t stopped walking to stare at him. But she couldn’t look away. Her eyes were beginning to burn because she wasn’t even blinking.
    Retreat wasn’t an option.
    Her legs refused to stir. Some strange, invisible connection sizzled between them, then wound around her like a lover’s arms, shocking and sensuous. The sensation dried her mouth and weakened her knees, making it impossible for her to move as he took in everything about her, from her tangled hair to her scuffed-­toed shoes. His gaze returned to her chest, hovering there as if he knew her bulky, all-­weather jacket hid breasts she considered her best asset.
    Kendra stood perfectly still, her heart knocking against her ribs.
    He was scrutinizing her, she knew. Perhaps he was trying to seduce her with a stare. He had the looks and sex appeal to tempt any woman, if that was his plan. Before she could decide how to react to him, the wind picked up, the chill gusts buffeting her roughly and whipping her hair across her eyes.
    “Agh.” She swiped the strands from her face, blinking against the sting of windblown sand.
    When the wind settled and her vision cleared, the man was gone.
    The high dunes were empty.
    And—­somehow this didn’t surprise her—­the afternoon’s odd clarity also had vanished.
    Sure, the strand still stretched as endless as before, the red-­gold sand almost garnet-­colored where the surf rushed in, dampening the beach. The sea looked as angry as ever, the tossing gray waves white-­crested and huge. Their roar filled the air, loud and thunderous. And the western sky still blazed scarlet, as vivid as before. But the sense of seeing through cut glass had faded.
    “Good grief.” Kendra shivered. Setting a hand to her brow, she scanned the long line of grass-­covered dunes. Then she turned in a circle, eyeing the strand. The beach was just as deserted as it’d been since she’d started her walk. Nothing broke the emptiness except the scattered World War II bunkers half buried in the sand up ahead of her. Built, she’d heard, so men could watch for German U-­boats. Now they were part of the strand’s attraction.
    A little bit of history, there for those interested.
    The bunkers were also a reason she’d shielded herself before setting foot on the strand. Ever cautious, she’d taken a deep breath and tapped into the protective energy that dwelt at the center of everyone’s soul. Thanks to her inherited sensitivity and her work experience, she knew how to summon such power. White light and a firm word declaring her wish for privacy usually kept spirits at bay. If any long-­dead soldiers felt a need to hover around their old guard post, she didn’t want to attract them. She was off duty, after all.
    And it was clear that the kiltie from the dune had taken off, as well.
    He was nowhere to be seen.
    He must’ve headed away from the strand, disappearing across the wide marshland behind the dunes. There’d be a road out there somewhere, a place where he could’ve parked a car. Or maybe he’d gone to a nearby farmhouse where he just happened to live. Something like that could be the only explanation. He definitely hadn’t been a ghost.
    Sure of it, Kendra pushed him from her mind and made for the bunkers. She’d eat her packed lunch there—­late, but necessary sustenance—­and then head back the way she’d come. Until then, a brief rest would do her good.
    She did enjoy solitude.
    And the bunkers looked like an ideal spot to be alone.
    But as she neared the first one, she saw that someone else had the same idea. A tall, ponytailed man leaned against the bunker’s thick gray wall. Dressed in faded jeans and a black leather jacket, he could’ve been a tourist. But Kendra sensed that he was local. Arms folded