Good Guy

by Kate Meader

  She pursed her lips and ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair, which was longer than he remembered. “Told you I’d eventually be moving out this way.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you had company.” Jordan placed a couple of empty beer bottles on the counter. “Recycle?”

  “Under the counter.” He made the introductions, keeping it to jobs only because theirs was a purely professional relationship, right?

  “You’re a reporter?” Elle asked Jordan.

  “Yeah, I’m here to do one of those all-access deals on the marvelous Mr. Hunt.”

  “What’s so interesting about this guy?” Now Elle was baffled, which made him want to give her a bear hug. Exactly. He was not worthy of this attention.

  “You’d be surprised. People love this junk.” Jordan rubbed her hands together. “Just need to check the medicine cabinet, grope around in the underwear drawer, and study the laptop browser history to see what we’re truly dealing with.”

  “You’ll be sorely disappointed,” Levi muttered, though the words grope and underwear certainly gave him ideas.

  Jordan smiled at Elle, in that friendly way she had that put people at ease. “Hanging with the boys gives me good background information, a feel for the team and Levi’s place on it.”

  “I can probably help you there,” Elle said, animated for the first time since she’d shown up. “Hunt’s strategy for cheering up the boys on his Special Forces team was Disney ice cream cakes.”

  Jordan’s eyes shone in pure amazement—and complete calculation. “I can’t imagine it for a second. Disney?”

  “Oh, yeah. He remembered everyone’s birthday, was always buying a Princess-themed cake for his guys.” Elle pulled out her phone. “Pretty sure I’ve got some video here.”

  “No one will be sharing video, especially about events that did not happen.” He glared at Elle, retracting the imaginary hug he’d given her. Where was the code?

  “Right, sir. Nothing happened, sir.” Elle didn’t even try to hide her wink at Jordan, who winked right back. Aw, hell. The last thing he needed was for these two to buddy up.

  “You probably should be heading out,” he said to Jordan, his inner grouch grumbling.

  “Yeah, I have to drive back to the city. Thanks for not inviting me, Levi. See you at the game tomorrow.” Still with the shade but he could tell it wasn’t sharply intended. She left the kitchen, her pony tail bobbing because the perk was never-ending.

  Elle shot him a dark look. “Shouldn’t you walk her out?”

  “She knows where the door is. She used it to come in uninvited.” But he wondered where she’d parked and if it was well-lit and …

  Jesus wept.

  He found her at the door, putting on her coat. “Jordan.”

  She looked up, eyes bright like nothing, not even the surliest vet-turned-hockey rookie, could throw her off her stride. What would it take?

  Annoyed with this entire situation, he grabbed his jacket. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No need for that.”

  Disregarding her protest, he plucked his keys from the hallway table. “After you.”

  9

  Out in the hallway, they headed toward the elevator, the air as thick as the cheese on those pizzas. He’d have been fine with silence, but that wasn’t Jordan’s style.

  “Elle seems nice. You two good friends?”

  “Good enough for her to feel okay showing up out of the blue without calling ahead.” He stabbed at the down button for the elevator.

  “Like us, then?” she said with not quite so much pertness in her voice.

  Finally, he was getting to her, which was better than her getting to him.

  “Was this night worth your time? Don’t you have a boyfriend who’d like to see you once in a while? Or a life that doesn’t revolve around work?” They stepped into the elevator and he slapped at the lobby level button. Stab. Slap. He was angry and he didn’t know why. He hated not knowing something.

  “This is my life, Hunt.” She giggled, the sound going straight to his dick where it proceeded to tease, caress, and kiss the traitor wide awake. “God, playing video games with you guys is gold. And then when your pal showed up proving you’re not such a cold-hearted, friendless Terminator type after all and that you might have a personality underneath that hard-ass demeanor? Icing on the cupcake.”

  He opened the door to his building, ushered her out, and tried not to enjoy her bobbing pony-tail.

  “So is it true?” she threw out over her shoulder.

  “Is what true?”

  “The Disney ice cream cake thing?”

  “Where are you parked?”

  “Around the corner. You don’t have to—”

  But he was already eating the ground with every stride like it had offended his honor.

  “Levi, what is your problem?”

  “Nothing. Just making sure you get in your car and leave.” He was pissed and horny and only now realizing that he had no idea what Jordan’s car looked like.

  “Here I am.” She stood by a Honda Civic, two cars back.

  Retracing his steps, he tried to get his emotions under control which should not have been a problem. Emotion-wrangling was his bag. Controlling the narrative was his forte. At least, he’d thought so until he met Jordan again.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She pushed her key into the lock.

  “Say again?”

  “You seem to be under the impression that I had someone I could be spending time with tonight instead of enjoying Erik’s weird winking and odes to herring, or Theo’s conspiracy theories as to why Chicagoland has so many mattress stores, or your curmudgeonly ways with hints of Tin Man.” She hummed If I only Had a Heart from The Wizard of Oz.

  He passed over the Tin Man reference, probably because he was inexplicably relieved at the implication of her other statement. “Don’t have an opinion on your dating practices. Just something Kershaw mentioned.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “I didn’t not believe him. Strange thing to make up.” Especially with the graphic detail of naked photos. If she wasn’t seeing someone, then what was all that about?

  She opened the door a couple of inches but still stood there. Pertly perking. “You know, the sooner you cooperate the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I’m doing everything management has ordered.”

  “Under sufferance.”

  “What you see is all you’re getting.” He was done here. Done with her teasing scent and dick-springing laugh. Done with trying to negotiate a truce between his hands and his cock. Just. Done. “Safe home now.” He turned to walk back, but didn’t get far.

  “Coward.”

  He pivoted. “What?”

  “You’ve never liked me for some stupid, God-knows-what reason and now you can’t be man enough to sit still for a few questions.”

  He ignored the last part which was half—okay, all—true, and focused on the first part. “I’ve liked you fine.”

  She took a step toward him, then another until she was right in his space. She looked up at him, her expression filled with fury and spirit. Typical, maddening, heart-stoppingly gorgeous Jordan. “Admit it. You can’t stand me. When I kissed you five years ago—”

  “We’re not talking about that.”

  “When I kissed you five years ago,” she insisted, her voice rising with each word, “it was as if I ripped out a piece of your mind! You didn’t like me. You certainly didn’t think I was right for Josh and then when we had that moment, when we were at our lowest, we were drawn to each other. You hate that of all people, it was me who made you go to this fragile, needful place. It happened and you need to get over it so we can do this interview and you never have to see me again!”

  Hell and damn, she was so right and so very, very wrong. Of course he liked her—that was the fucking problem. It had always been the problem. He’d been holding on to this guilt
he’d felt for betraying Josh, not just the night of the funeral, but all the nights before. Lust in his heart, someone had once termed it. Making a move on his friend’s woman had been the logical culmination of the envy Levi had bottled up, and he was letting it color all his decisions in the now.

  She’d worked hard to get where she was and so had he. They could do this interview. They could salvage something from this messy, unexpected intersection of their lives, and move the fuck on.

  Clean, simple, done.

  Which is why he probably shouldn’t have placed one hand on her hip, pulled her close, and stamped his lips on hers.

  * * *

  Levi Hunt was kissing her.

  This man she didn’t like all that much and who definitely didn’t like her was kissing her.

  The subject of her story was … okay, we know, we know, her brain chimed in.

  Kissing. Her.

  Maybe he was doing it to prove a point. See how much I don’t like you? These lips are filled with so much dislike it’s practically dripping off them.

  But there was proving a point and there was kissing so deep and wet and oh-my-God sexy that Jordan was fairly sure she and her chatty brain knew the difference. There might be dislike but there was plenty of lust, too.

  He tasted of beer and need, and the way he felt … so hard and good and groan-worthy. It had been too long. The last man she’d kissed was … no, no, no.

  This one.

  She pulled back, more shocked at that factoid than the act itself. Since Josh’s death, she had gone out on a few anemic dates, more to please her parents or friends who thought she “needed to get back out there.” Inevitably date chatter would stray into widow territory and she hated it: hated talking about him. Hated how her dates would offer pity first, then quickly transition to viewing her as a sure thing. The woman whose grief could so easily be replaced by mind-blowing orgasms.

  She hadn’t needed it. She was getting her kicks in her budding career. Subsuming those desires was necessary while she carved her path to sports reporter glory. But now …

  Tonight, she’d pushed Levi hard, intending to make him mad and force a misstep. Only now she wasn’t so sure of her rationale: to reap a benefit for the story or for her sorely neglected love life?

  Levi was panting, his eyes dark, shining buttons under the street lamp. His hand still laid a possessive claim to her hip, which aligned her favorite parts of him with what she imagined would be his favorite parts of her.

  “What was that for?” she managed to croak out.

  “I don’t regret that kiss.” His voice sounded like he was speaking through gravel. “Five years ago. Or now.”

  “You don’t?”

  His breath sawed in and out. “I understand that you do. Of course you do. But I needed it then. So bad.”

  So had she. So did she. Here, now, while pinned between his hard body and her Honda Civic. All the guilt she should be feeling was refusing to percolate to the surface. In all honesty, she was attracted to Levi. Immensely so.

  And that was a problem as big as what the Special Forces vet was packing below the belt. “We shouldn’t do this … the story.”

  His hand moved to cup her ass and hoisted her a few inches off the ground until she landed on the hood. “The story can wait.”

  Expertly, his mouth sought hers, parting her lips and introducing his tongue to the mix. Well, how do you do? She moaned, a heartfelt, deep, desperate sound because she’d missed this. Being wanted. Desired. Needed. Her thighs fell open, wanton, wicked limbs inviting him in, and he took her up on the offer because he was a damned fine player when he saw his chance, both on the ice and off. Strong hands shaped her ass, gripping and magnetizing her core to all that glorious hardness behind his zipper.

  The kiss continued, mutating into something wilder and deeper with each luxurious sweep of his tongue. Underneath this gruff and stoic exterior lay a man of passion. She’d known this—after all, they’d kissed before. But back then, it was mixed with grief and sadness and tequila. She couldn’t separate the man from the moment.

  But this Levi, this person with his lips locked to hers was very much his own man and this was very much its own moment.

  The sound of a car’s engine forced their mouths to separate. But their other body parts remained well and truly engaged in the getting-acquainted mode. And it felt shockingly right.

  The car passed, the lights illuminating Levi’s chiseled jaw and what she’d always thought of as expressionless eyes. Not now. Those eyes were supernovas of emotion.

  “Jordan—”

  “Don’t apologize, Levi. Takes two to kiss like that.”

  “Wasn’t planning to. I was going to say you need to get your sweet ass off that car before I lose control.”

  Ah, okay.

  He drew back, the void of his departure chilling her through. But he dragged her with him, which felt nice. Like they were going in the same direction at last.

  “You’ve got skills in the kissing department, Levi.”

  “Gonna put that in the article?”

  “God, no, you’re under enough pressure to perform as it is.”

  He laughed, the first time she’d ever recalled hearing that.

  “What strange sound is this?” She pushed at his chest, feeling that she had a right to while they were still in this friendly bubble that would burst the moment she slipped into her car.

  “I laugh. You’ve just never said anything funny. Until now.”

  She thumped his arm lightly. “Are you kidding? I am a total cut up. Ask anyone. Jordan with the Jokes, they call me.”

  “They do? And who’s they?” He looked skeptical, a reasonable reaction given that she’d just made it up, but he also looked amused. Why did she feel so giddy? Perhaps because Levi Hunt didn’t seem so opposed to her existence after all, and the relief that came with that conclusion made her dizzy.

  “Uh, my sports reporter colleagues, barfly acquaintances, and the nice man at the dry cleaners.”

  “The only audience that matters.”

  “Yes!” Well, look at them, bantering like pros, the ease of it both electrifying and comforting. “You probably should return to your guests.”

  “Kind of hoping they’ll take the hint and be gone when I get back.”

  “Except Elle.” Remembering the sudden arrival of the young—and pretty—woman shot Jordan’s chest with a ridiculous bolt of jealousy. “Is she staying long?”

  “For a few days. But there’s nothing between us, just in case you thought that angle might work for your story.”

  She hid her smile. Was that his way of telling her she needn’t worry on that score? Had they both declared their single status tonight for … reasons?

  Reasons be damned. Nothing more could—would—happen here. She had a story to write and anyway, Levi Hunt was most definitely not her type. Too broody, too bad-tempered, too uptight.

  Although there was nothing uptight about that kiss or the erection that heralded good times ahead if she wasn’t writing a story and this was actually a thing that could happen in the current universe.

  Sheesh! Shut up, Jordan. No, you shut up … other Jordan.

  “I should go,” she said, not wanting to at all. Hoping that like her, he’d prefer to hold on to what they’d found in the cold, dark night that didn’t seem so lonely anymore.

  She’d missed this human connection.

  He stepped back to give her space to open the door. Reluctantly, she slid by him as she clambered inside.

  “Want to start tomorrow?”

  She blinked back at him. “What?”

  “The interview, for real. After morning skate and lunch with the team, I usually come back here to take a nap.”

  Was he asking her to join him for a nap? She let that seep into her bones, the comfort implied in it and—oh, he was still talking.

  “… back at the practice arena and find a spot to sit down and talk.”

  Were they going to talk ab
out the kiss some more? Or perhaps his rush to finish the interview was so that they could do something else? Or so she could be ushered out of his life more quickly?

  So many questions (yay, journalism!), yet all she could manage was a cheery “Okay, see you then!”

  He closed the door before she could get another word in, not that she had anything profound to say. They had come this close to dry humping on the hood of her Honda and it was both weird and not weird.

  She’d take that as a win.

  Starting the car, she was keenly aware of him watching her as she pulled out of the space, standing soldier-tall and motionless. And she waited until he was a speck in her rearview mirror before she touched her kiss-ravaged lips.

  10

  Levi walked into the front office suite at Rebels HQ and looked around. He’d been here before during a meet-and-greet but they’d connected in a conference room, so he had no clue which office belonged to Harper. Jordan had texted this morning to meet him here after his post-lunch nap, so here he was ready for the vivisection.

  Did he say “ready”? He meant “dreading it.”

  Last night, the woman had tasted so good, a million times better than he’d remembered, and he had an excellent memory. A small part of him had hoped it wouldn’t live up to that previous encounter but for it to go and surpass it? Not fair in the slightest.

  He wasn’t fool enough to think she might like him, but she certainly liked prodding him. Her version of fun—and he was beginning to think he liked being the source of that fun. She made him smile with all the effort she put into drawing him out.

  One of the doors opened and out walked Cade Burnett with a big old grin on his face. Right behind him was Dante with his hand on Cade’s back. Moretti said something that made Burnett chuckle, then turn back to him, his gaze lit with that special understanding that exists between couples.

  A savage kick of envy struck Levi.

  His time in the military had never been conducive to relationships. Some guys made it work, like Josh, but Levi didn’t have the skills to keep something so fragile alive at a distance. Small talk, texting, all the minutiae required to feed a relationship were beyond him. He needed to be close enough to touch, to taste, to take. And even then, no one had made him want to go there. Until Jordan.