“That’s it?”
“Yes, why?”
“I mean, you accept it already? No groveling?” Ivan asked, clearly confused as hell.
What was this?
“You apologized, I accepted. Unless there’s a third part that I’m not aware of, I think we’re good.”
“I upset you.”
“Yes, and I let it go. You can’t make people like you, and you can’t always have a connection with someone. I asked about your past, and you shut me down. I get it. You want your privacy and don’t want that connection with me. I’m over it.”
He didn’t know how to deal with her.
The big issue was he did want that connection, and he wasn’t over it.
Not by a long shot.
“And you’ll never ask again?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“No. You don’t want to share with me, and I won’t hold you at gunpoint, Mr. Bennet. I’m socially inept, but I know when someone doesn’t want to get to know me. You don’t feel like meeting me halfway, and I respect that. I’m an open book. You’re not. It’s how it is. Now, have a good night.”
For some reason, that bothered him.
When the door closed, it irritated him that she wasn’t upset, or pining away over him.
What did he expect?
He’d snapped at her, and she’d moved on without looking back. It irritated the hell out of him. She’d intrigued him, and now she was basically telling him to kiss off.
Why?
That was his big question.
Ivan turned to go back to his room, and with each step, he was getting more and more riled up.
When his hand touched the doorknob, he couldn’t do it. Instead of going in and licking his ego’s wounds, he turned around, knocked on her door, and waited.
“Yes?” she asked, once she saw it was him.
“Would you like to have dinner with me? We can…talk,” Ivan said, trying to negotiate this. Instead of girl drama, it was boy drama.
His.
“I don’t like pizza.”
He stared at her.
What?
“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t like pizza? It’s a food group for most people. I eat pizza like five nights a week.”
Blue shrugged.
What could she say?
“I had it once as a child at a birthday party, and I don’t recall enjoying it. I haven’t eaten it since.”
Now he was intrigued. “You had it only once?”
She nodded.
“I don’t get you, Blue. You are this puzzle that I can’t quite figure out.”
He loved that about her.
God!
He was screwed.
“What’s to get? I can’t be the only person on the planet who doesn’t like pizza.”
Oh, he had a freaking list.
“Would you like to try it again?” he asked. “I’d love to share it with you. Maybe this time, you’ll enjoy it.”
She stared at him.
“I have to work. Elizabeth wants me to run some cell phone numbers for one of the victims.”
She tried to close the door again, and again, he stopped her.
“I can help.”
“You want to waste your night off with me running records?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Yeah, and people said she was weird. Someone was also a little crazy himself.
She shrugged. “Suit yourself, Mr. Bennet.”
Blue stepped back, and he entered her space. When he placed the pizza on the table, he noticed some big crystal.
“Are you one of those new-age-y people?” he asked. “You know the ones who align chakras and hum weird words?”
She looked at him like he was an alien with five heads and three mouths.
Blue wasn’t sure if this was a test, or he was having some sort of manic episode.
The jury was out.
“Uh, no, why?”
“The crystal,” he said, picking it up. The thing was huge, and he really hoped she wasn’t some New Age hippy chick.
God!
What then?
“No, actually, I don’t do that whole ‘chakra thing’,” she stated. “I found it when I was hiking in the Himalayas. It was pretty. It became my good luck token. I bring it on my cases so I don’t get shot.”
He stared at her.
“You believe in good luck, but you haven’t eaten pizza except once when you were a kid?”
And she’d hiked the freaking Himalayas. What the hell? That was on his bucket list. He didn’t know what to think.
“Yes.”
He couldn’t believe her.
This woman was…
Unique.
Why that appealed to him, he didn’t have a clue.
“Do we need plates?” she asked. “I can call down to the desk and…What?” she asked when she noticed him staring at her like she was insane.
“Seriously?”
She didn’t get it.
“What did I say that made you stare at me like I’m crazy?”
He laughed.
Blue was genuinely confused. It was…adorable. When she didn’t understand something, she scrunched up her brow and tried to solve it.
Yes, he’d noticed.
Sue him.
“Okay, for the record, you don’t eat pizza with a plate. That’s a big no-no.”
“You eat all food with a plate, Ivan. Don’t you?” she asked him.
Now she wasn’t sure.
“There are exceptions to the rule. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Blue’s parents always made her use a plate, napkin, and silverware.
Had they led her astray?
“I’m going to teach you how to do this the right way. It’s going to be messy.”
“Do we need napkins?”
“No, we use our sleeves.”
She stared at him, her mouth open.
He found it endearing.
“I’m kidding, Blue. That would make us animals. You ALWAYS use a napkin. I have them right here,” he said, pulling them from his back pocket.
Blue sat at the table beside her working laptop.
“Okay, how do I do this?” she asked, willing to try. Blue liked to learn, so she could handle this.
She hoped.
Ivan sat down and opened the box. The lid side was between them and he pulled two gooey pieces out and placed them on the lid.
Like a plate.
“You realize that’s technically a plate, right? Your methodology looks suspiciously like a disposable dish.”
He laughed. “Are you going to wash it?”
“No. It’s cardboard.”
“Then it’s not a plate.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
He got that.
And it was sexy.
“Here’s what you do. You fold the pizza in half.”
She stopped him. “Wait! Should it be a scalene triangle after you fold it or stay more of an isosceles?”
It was his turn to stare.
“What?” she asked.
“Are those actual things?” he asked, trying not to laugh. At first, he really thought she was kidding.
She wasn’t—which made it more amusing.
“This might be why I don’t eat pizza,” she admitted. “There are too many wild variables.”
“You fold it directly in half.”
“So it’s no longer an equilateral triangle?”
He laughed.
She didn’t.
“My God! This should be easy for you,” he said, finding it as funny as hell.
Blue felt the tears coming.
“Maybe you should go,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin.
Ivan realized she was really struggling with this, and his laughter was taken as him making fun of her.
Christ!
What had he done now? In one day, he’d practically bit her head off when she asked benign questions, and now he made
her cry.
He was struggling with this.
“Blue.”
“You should go,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m going to work. I can’t do pizza.”
His heart broke.
“Blue, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was amused that you were making it about math.”
She pushed her chair away and took her laptop to the bed. When she sat, she closed him out. Blue closed everything out so she wouldn’t be embarrassed that she couldn’t function in everyday society like everyone else could.
“Blue, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m socially inept. I get it. I’m funny and everyone laughs at me.”
“You’re not inept. You’re just different, Blue. Being different is a good thing.”
She wouldn’t look up.
It wasn’t good.
No one liked different.
People mocked different.
She was a freak.
“You should go,” she whispered, as she wiped furiously at her eyes. It had been a tough day, and she was struggling. She’d nearly died in a sinkhole, he’d torn her a new one for no reason, and now she was reminded she wasn’t like him—or anyone else.
Maybe the FBI was a bad idea.
“Just leave, Ivan,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”
From where he sat, he could see how hurt she was, and the tears.
Instead of leaving, he wiped his hands and moved to sit beside her. She tensed.
“I like different. When I was a kid, I had this dog. We got him at the pound. He was the sickest, the smallest, and the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen, but I wanted him.”
“Why?” she asked.
“He only had three legs.”
“So he was broken? You felt bad for him. It’s called pity, Ivan.”
She understood that.
She was the recipient of it all the time.
“No, way! He was cool. What kid has a three-legged dog? None. I was lucky to have him. Sometimes, Blue, being different is a good thing. I like different. It’s special.”
She looked up.
He wiped a tear off her cheek.
“Did you really have a three-legged dog?” she asked, not sure she bought that.
Ivan reached into his back pocket, and he pulled out his wallet. From it, he pulled out a picture of him as a kid with a scruffy, three-legged dog.
“His name was Lucky. I had him until about two months before I left for training. I still miss that dog. He was the most amazing little guy.”
“How did he lose his leg?”
“Someone threw him out a car window because they thought he was a hot mess. He limped along for a while, and when they found him, it couldn’t be saved.”
“That’s sad.”
“Nope, it’s good. They tossed him away, but I found him. I named him Lucky because I was that. I didn’t see him because he was different. I loved him for him.”
She listened to him and handed back the picture.
“I never had a dog.”
“Oh, well, you missed out. Maybe one day.”
She doubted that. Blue didn’t know how to take care of a dog.
Ivan was glad he’d calmed her down.
“How about we try again? I wasn’t laughing at you. I was amused at how you look at things differently. I found joy in it. That was a laugh of happiness not mockery.”
“Promise?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
He held out his hand.
“Why did you really tell me about the dog?” she asked.
“Because I felt like it was the right time to share a little about me.”
She appreciated that.
Blue learned by asking questions.
“Dinner?” he asked.
She let him lead her to the table. He folded his pizza in half, and picked it up. He waited for her to do the same.
When he took a bite, she did.
He chewed.
“Well?”
She didn’t speak for a couple seconds.
“I don’t hate it.”
“But?”
“It’s missing something.”
He didn’t understand. It was pizza. What could it possibly be missing?
There was cheese.
Sauce.
Crust.
That was the trifecta of every perfect meal.
“What?”
She got up, went to the mini-fridge, and pulled out a six-pack of beer.
His favorite one.
Oh, he was screwed. It was like she knew him.
“It needs beer.”
He stared at her.
“What?”
She looked around.
“Did I make a mistake?”
“No, you are absolutely right.”
And one thing he couldn’t tell her.
Ivan finally found a woman he wanted.
Again.
And, of course, she had to be a Fed, who worked for Elizabeth Blackhawk.
He was screwed.
Royally.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Boston
Pizza Place
They had put in their order for dinner and were sitting in their vehicle to work. The entire time, Callen was thinking about his wife, and their life.
Their anniversary was coming up, and he wanted to do something she’d never forget. He was also thinking about their family, and if it would ever be the way it was.
Truth be told, he missed his father.
“I can hear you thinking. What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing over at him.
“I was thinking about Dad. Ethan sent an email,” Callen stated.
“Yeah, I saw it.”
“Are you going to forgive him if he comes back?” he asked. This was all about his wife, and he’d do whatever she decided.
After all, Wyler had bailed.
Again.
“I don’t hate him. In a way, I get it.”
Callen kept his focus on her.
“But he hurt you.”
“Yeah, he really did. When I looked at him, I didn’t think ‘your father’. I thought…mine.”
He was aware.
“It was pretty stupid. He’s not mine. I let him get to me, and that’s on me.”
“Lyzee.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Callen. I need to focus on this case, and I can’t.” The Wyler situation was the last open wound to her heart. She released the stress of carrying everything to the men, she’d come to grips with the outcome of Bonnie’s vicious attack on her family, and all that remained was Wyler bailing on her.
If it was meant to work out, it would.
Callen knew she needed to be distracted.
“We have a few minutes yet.”
“And?”
“I didn’t get morgue sex. I think I should get ‘hot FBI ride’ sex,” he teased, trying to distract her.
“Seriously?”
“No. I just hate upsetting you and bringing up Wyler did that.”
“Oh, and here I was ready to do it too.”
He stared at her. “Don’t tease, Elizabeth. I can go from joking around to rock hard in three seconds.”
She laughed.
He took her hand and placed it over the bulge in the front of his jeans.
That one action turned her right on.
“Callen.”
He leaned in and his mouth found hers. The way his lips moved across hers—it staggered her. Now she was turned on and wet.
Well, when in Rome…
“Get in the back.”
Callen grinned. Now, this was the woman he loved. It appeared she was back.
Whitefox climbed between the seat and took his place in the back of the SUV. The windows were tinted, and his wife was right behind him.
Oh, thank God, he parked away from the front doors of the pizza place.
When she climbed into his lap, Ca
llen wanted to declare his never-ending love.
Only, he didn’t get a chance.
His heart thudded as her mouth moved silkily over his. She dove in to offer him everything that was in her.
There was heat and fire, along with love and lust.
As usual, it was explosive.
When she pulled away, his lower lip was between her teeth. It pulled a moan from him.
“Callen James.”
“Oh, angel, more. Give me more.”
Her hands worked their way under his shirt, and her nails left a trail of fire.
“I want you so badly, Elizabeth. Every second of the day, my heart just needs more and more of you. You are my all.”
She knew what he meant.
That’s how she felt about both the men in her life.
“Heal me,” she said, knowing he’d understand. She was raw inside, and Callen could fix her.
“I’m here, my love. If you want me, you only need to take what’s yours.”
What didn’t she want and need from him? Over the last year, Callen had come into his own, and he’d shown the world that he was more than fine.
He was strong.
And frankly, it was sexy.
“Callen,” she murmured, as his lips began exploring her throat and neck. When his hands roamed wildly and Callen pulled Elizabeth’s shirt free from her pants, she thought she’d die from his glorious touch.
“Take off your pants,” he mumbled, as his hands were already yanking open the buttons.
She struggled as she tried to stand to get free from her boots and jeans, but eventually, she did.
Callen watched her with lust and need.
Here was his woman.
He loved her more than anything.
When she returned to his lap, Callen was throbbing against his fly.
“I love your body,” he whispered, when his hands found the mounds of creamy breasts. “So hot!”
Oh, she understood.
She felt the same thing.
“God, I hope we don’t get caught,” he stated, as her hand flicked open the button of his jeans.
“I don’t care about anything but you. I want my husband,” she answered, biting him on the neck.
“Lyzee, baby,” he mumbled as she yanked him from his jeans and then went to her knees.
“God! Yes, give me head! I want your mouth on my dick in the worst way.”
Elizabeth knew the way to his heart. Reaching into her purse, she found some red lipstick. It was Miss Kitty’s color, and Callen loved it.
“Please tell me you’re going to put that on, and then blow me,” he admitted.
Discarded by Fate Page 23
