Excerpt of Lone Star Marine by Cathie Linz

Tom Kozlowski heard the knock on the cabin door and decided to ignore it. He was on disability leave from his beloved Marine Corps, so he didn't have to obey orders of any kind. He'd come to the family's King Ranch outside of San Antonio to get away from people staring at him with looks of pity, with smiles of false hope.

A second knock followed the first.

Tom continued to disregard it.

The third knock had a definite edge to it and was followed by what could only be described as downright pounding.

Totally aggravated now, Tom yanked the door open. "What?" he growled.

"Oh good!" a peppy, feminine voice said. "I'm so glad you're here."

He blinked at the sexy vision standing there. She was wearing jeans that accentuated her great body and a tank top beneath a denim jacket. Her hair was red and her lips sinful.

"What do you want?"

"Your brother Striker sent me." She smiled at him and confidently stepped inside.

Tom had to grip the door frame to keep his balance as he turned to watch her.

He'd just talked to Striker a short while ago on his cellphone. Striker hadn't said anything about sending a visitor out to see him.

Was this female supposed to be a surprise? Like the last surprise Striker had sent him: a strippergram.

Tom had been clueless then, but now he knew the routine. "Striker sent you, huh?"

"That's right."

"Do you have a name?"

"Callie."

"Well, Callie, would you like me to take your jacket?"

"Oh, well, I guess it is a little warm in here...."

He watched her remove her denim jacket, then took it from her to drop on a nearby chair. She looked a little awkward, as if she was unsure what to do next.

Wanting to put her at ease, he said, "I know the routine. You can cut to the chase."

"I can?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

"I know your time is valuable —"

"So is yours."

She shot him a big smile, one that hit him with the force of a hand grenade. What was going on here? He felt a sense of recognition that caught him totally by surprise, yet he was sure he hadn't met her before. He tried to focus on the words coming from her lovely mouth. "Thanks so much for saying that. I don't know what Striker has told you about me..."

"Not much."

"Well, people in my line of work are often misunderstood."

"I imagine so." What he was really imagining was her slipping her hands beneath the hem of her tank top and slowly sliding it up over her head. Was she really a stripper? Why else would she say that people in her line of work are misunderstood?

"They don't take us seriously," she added.

"I won't make that mistake," he noted, wondering if maybe she was a college student or someone trying to work her way through graduate school.

"That's so sweet of you. You know, even though we've just met, I feel like I already know you."

"Yes, I feel that way, too." The last stripper had rubbed her hands all over him and he hadn't reacted at all. But Tom only had to look at Callie and he was shaken to his core.

"A lot of people don't consider what I do to be really teaching."

"I'm sure this encounter will be very educational," he reassured her before cupping one hand on her shoulder and drawing her closer. He had to keep one hand on the cane that kept him from falling on his face. As it was, she sort of stumbled against him, making him lose his balance and resulting in them both falling onto the couch.

"I'm so sorry!" She scrambled off him, making him groan. "Did I hurt you?" She leaned closer to study his face.

This was his chance and he took it. His mouth barely touched hers when she shoved him away. "Hey!" She stood glaring down at him like some kind of enraged goddess. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Kissing...you." Tom was having a difficult time forming words.

"Are you drunk?"

"No." He couldn't have alcohol with the medication he was taking. His fuzzy brain was a result of being so close to Callie. There was something about her that prevented him from thinking straight. It wasn't just her looks. He'd seen beautiful women before. It was her, which made him very uneasy.

Some of the men in his family had a habit of falling in love at first sight, even if it took them a while to admit it. He certainly didn't want that fate to befall him. Not when he had nothing to offer a woman.

"What made you think you had a right to kiss me?" Callie demanded.

Okay, truth was, he was no expert on situations like this and he hated feeling like an idiot. "Do I have to pay more for kisses? If so, that's fine. Just tell me how much."

"Pay?" she sputtered, her face turning red with anger.

"There isn't enough money in the entire state of Texas."

"Listen, you don't have to get on your high horse with me. You're the one who came knocking on my door."

"Because your brother Striker sent me."

"Yes, he sent the last stripper, too."

"What?!"

Tom winced at the loud volume of her shriek.

"I am not a stripper!" She grabbed her denim jacket and yanked it around her body as if to protect herself from him. "Then why are you here?"

"To pick up the key to the North Cabin. Striker told me you had it."

Tom frowned, trying to make sense of her words. "Why do you need the key?"

"Because I've rented the cabin for the summer." Callie could tell that Tom was not pleased with this news. Well, too bad. She wasn't pleased at him mistaking her for a stripper.

And to think she'd actually been attracted to him when he'd first opened the door. There had been more than just physical awareness, though.

She felt as if she already knew him, but that must be because she'd heard so much about him over the years — about what an honorable, by-the-book officer he was in the Marine Corps.

Most recently, Striker had told her about his youngest brother's injuries and the three operations it had taken to put Tom's leg back together again.

She'd seen the earlier photos of him in his dress blues, his dark hair in a short military cut.

Tom looked different now. Like a dark angel fallen from grace. His hair was longer, his face gaunt. There was a scar on his right cheek. He looked tough.

But it was his eyes that got to her. They held the shadows of a man who'd seen more than his fair share of pain and suffering — a wounded warrior.

He wore dark sweatpants and a dark T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off that allowed her to see how muscular his arms were. Even though he was leaning on a cane, he possessed an incredibly powerful presence that made her feel all fluttery inside.

She wasn't the kind to lust after a sexy Marine. Something else — something more — was going on here.

She'd experienced an incredibly strong emotional pull toward him sensing there was more to him than she could see on the surface.

"The North Cabin is only a few hundred yards from this cabin," Tom said.

"I know."

"You can't stay there. There must be some mistake."

"I'll say. A big mistake, you thinking I was some kind of stripper."

"You're the one who said that people in your line of work are often misunderstood and not taken seriously."

"I was talking about my work as a kindergarten teacher."

She didn't look like any kindergarten teacher he'd ever seen. Weren't they supposed to be kindly and asexual?

"Call your brother and check it out with him if you don't believe me."

Now she was making him feel stupid for having jumped to conclusions about her, which ticked him off. "I plan on doing just that."

"Go right ahead."

Striker answered on the second ring. "Who is this woman you sent up here?" Tom demanded.

"Callie? She's rented the North Cabin for the summer. I told her to stop by your cabin to pick up the key."

"Nice of you to let me know ahead of time," Tom growled.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, I didn't realize I'd have a neighbor."

"Don't blame Callie. And be polite to her. She's Tex's granddaughter."

"Tex?"

"My executive assistant."

"That would be me," an older woman announced in a grouchy voice from the doorway. She was just a little bitty thing, but she had the bearing of a general as she marched across the room to glare at him. "The door wasn't latched, so I came on in to see what was going on in here and why it was taking so long to get a simple key."

"Mr. Kozlowski wasn't expecting me," Callie said. That was putting it mildly. "Captain Kozlowski," Tom curtly corrected her.

"Now don't go getting all Marine-like on me," Tex said. "That dog just ain't gonna hunt."

"Is that Tex I hear in the background?" Striker demanded.

"Affirmative."

"Put her on the phone."

"Striker wants to talk to you." Tom handed the phone over and awkwardly stepped away.

While Tex was momentarily distracted by her conversation with her boss, Callie approached Tom and spoke in a low voice. "Don't tell my grandmother that you thought I was a stripper."

Like he was on the verge of doing something stupid like that.

"It would upset her."

He hadn't felt too good about it, either.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding." His voice sounded as stiff as he felt.

"I had no idea you were expecting...someone like that."

She made it sound like he made a habit of having strippers come to his door. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

"No? Do you usually assume that every female who knocks on your door is a...you know." She clearly didn't want to say the word in case her grandmother overheard.

"Of course not."

"So it was me then?" Now her voice was mocking.

"Something about the wild way I was dressed?" She pointed to her ordinary jeans, tank top and denim jacket.

"I'd really like to know so no other guy makes the same mistake you did."

"Very funny." His growl didn't sound as fierce as he'd hoped.

"Are you okay?" She studied him closely. "You look a little pale."

"I just need some peace and quiet." And a bionic body. His knee felt as if Godzilla and King Kong had both stomped on it. Several times.

That's what he got for trying to run before he could walk. Literally. He'd wanted to take a run. So he had. Or tried to. Hadn't gotten very far, though.

Sure, the physical therapists at the San Antonio military medical facility, where he underwent rehab every day, had warned him about overdoing it.

But he was a Marine. Pain was merely weakness leaving his body.

"You need some peace and quiet? Fine." She stepped away from him. "Give me the key and we'll be out of here faster than a prairie fire with a tailwind."

He pointed to a hook near the door. "There's the key."

"Striker wants to talk to you," Tex said, handing the phone back to him. "Welcome to Texas."