Jane's Long March Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

leave coming.”
    He considered how much they had to do. Thirty days wasn't much time, but accepting the constraint, he sought her gaze beneath the tinted glasses. “There will be ground rules.”
    For the briefest moment, he thought he saw relief flit across the face that had him thinking she was a woman used to taking care of herself. “Yes, Sir.”
    Forbidding his gaze to flick down her thin, athletic frame, he laid them out. “First, you’ve got to stop calling me Sir. Second, you’ll eat three meals a day.”
    “I eat enough.”
    He ignored her. “I’ll organize daily therapy sessions.”
    “Talking.” She sounded dubious. Chase opted to tell her later it would be more than that.
    “What do you do for exercise?”
    Her brows shot up.
    She was a Marine in his uncle’s command. Chase knew what that meant. He hadn’t forgotten the summers he and Nate had spent with Matt backpacking into the rugged Central Oregon countryside, rock climbing at nearby Smith Rock, and white water rafting on the Deschutes River.
    Matt had expected them to stay in top physical condition. He wouldn’t demand anything less from his Marines.
    Those adolescent memories were primarily what had drawn Chase to the area. When he’d come across the For Sale sign out on the road fronting the ranch on his last vacation, he’d bought the place thinking it would be a great vacation home. Little did he know it would become his sanctuary.
    “Okay, we’ll work out an exercise program later.” For the first time since taking up residence, Chase relaxed. Jane Donovan was not going to make the next month easy. The only surprise was, he kind of liked that about her. “You’ll need to learn some relaxation techniques.”
    “I’m relaxed.”
    “Uh huh. I can see that.” His comment brought out a sexy scowl that had his gut stirring in appreciation. “There are enough chores to do around here to keep you from brooding.”
    Her scowl deepened. “I don’t brood.”
    “In between all that we’ll go over your coping mechanisms.”
    “I won’t take pills.”
    “All right, can you tell me why?”
    She blushed prettily, then squared her shoulders. “They take my will away. You should also know, alcohol doesn’t help.”
    “Glad to hear that.” There had been a note about excessive alcohol use in her file.
    “I hope you have some new tricks up your sleeve, because talking about how I’m feeling doesn’t help either.”
    The woman was as dangerous as dynamite. One more time he warned himself to keep his mind on the game, and not on how interesting she was fast becoming.
    Before he could forget he was a professional, he pointed over her shoulder. “Change into workout clothes and meet me out back at the punching bag.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Jane had her gear stowed in the room where she’d slept the night through for the first time since the bombing. A heavy dose of ibuprofen and the heating pad Russell had left on the bed had given her the reprieve she’d all but given up finding.
    When she got down to the punching bag, she wasn't as relieved as she thought she would be to find her new counselor waiting.
    She could do this. She’d had too many therapists over the last six months not to know what Russell wanted to hear. Like he said, there wasn’t much time. All she had to do was give him the right answers. He would work his magic. She’d be on her way home.
    He handed her a pair of fat, padded boxing gloves. “Do you know how to box?”
    “I’ve had some practice.” In Madrid, besides Friday night poker, it had been one of their favorite pastimes.
    Russell pulled on matching gloves. He moved to the opposite side of the bag and threw a punch that landed with a hard thud. “So, you were raised in an orphanage? Did you know your family?”
    The man didn’t waste any time. Jane danced in to throw her own punch, not answering for a long string of heartbeats. She didn’t like talking about her mother, and if it was family Russell