“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it. When I was about five I was a kleptomaniac.”
A startled laugh burst from him. “What?”
She blushed. “I was a little thief. For about two weeks I stole erasers out of a couple of kids’ desks.”
He grinned. “Why?”
“Beats me. I still can’t believe I did it and got away with it. I stopped doing it partially because I was ashamed and because I figured I’d get caught.”
“So you punished yourself rather than let anyone else do it. Sounds like good impulse control.”
“You could say that. I never did it again.” She frowned. “I’ve never told anyone about it until now.”
His smile remained, albeit smaller. Instead his intent, caressing look said he not only liked what he saw, but liked what he’d heard. “Thanks for sharing with me.”
For some reason telling him a little secret, an itty-bitty confession she’d never revealed before, made her feel closer to him. “Whatever you do, don’t tell my brothers.”
Blayne had met her other brother, Davis, last Christmas before Davis had taken a U.S. Marshall assignment in Denver.
A mischievous glimmer entered his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell them yourself?”
“Are you kidding? They’d tease me unmercifully.”
“Isn’t that what brothers are for?”
Wondering about his first cousin and adopted sister Polly and his other sister Anne made her ask, “Have you tortured your sisters with their past indiscretions?”
“Indiscretions. Now that’s an intriguing way to put it. You make it sound old-fashioned.”
She sighed and then smiled. “Sue me. I’ve been told I’m a little old-fashioned.”
This time his grin held pure disbelief. “I don’t believe that.”
“Really. I had this guy at a bar tell me I looked like a schoolteacher.”
Once again his gaze danced over her, as if he liked surveying her at every opportunity. “What do schoolteachers look like anyway?”
“That’s what I asked him. He said I appeared staid and pure.” She shook her head and her thick hair fell like a blanket across her shoulders.
Doubt entered his expression. “The guy must be nuts. Your hair reminds me more of fire. Brilliant, hot fire.” His voice dropped, warming her insides with the heat-laced tone. “More like Lady Godiva.”
Her mouth popped open in surprise. “Blayne.”
She tried to remember if a man’s attention had ever made her feel this special, this flustered. No. Only Blayne could send her out of control, his notice a precious gift.
“The idiot needed to have his head rearranged,” he said. “Was he a soldier?”
“How did you know?”
He clasped his hands together. “A lucky guess. This town boasts about three times as many men as women. There’s a good chance single women in a bar are going to run into a soldier.” His gaze hardened. “Wait a minute. How long ago did you meet this guy and are you going out with him?”
With any other man Jemma might have resented his inquisition. Instead she heard an edge in his voice that rocked her foundations.
Jealousy and protectiveness. And damn it all, she liked it.
Boldness reared inside her, something that seemed to happen the longer she stayed near Blayne. “Why do you want to know?”
His face tightened a little, then she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
His bashfulness, so unlike the self-assured man she knew, made her heart melt. “You’re right, it’s none of your business. What I want to know is why you asked it in the first place. Men always think they know me better than I know myself.”
He nodded. “So they can impress you enough to get you into bed.”
“Maybe.”
It happened so fast she didn’t have time to think. He rose from the couch and walked toward her, his movement smooth.
Putting his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned in close and spoke in that toe-curling deep voice. “I wanted to know if I needed to kick the guy’s ass for being stupid enough to think you were anything less than beautiful.”
His warm scent and masculinity enveloped her. His dark eyes sparked, determined and unwilling to give an inch. She saw raw desire there, and perhaps an emotion she couldn’t define. Her lips parted and Blayne’s gaze dropped to her mouth. For one staggering moment, she thought he would kiss her. Her heart leapt in wild anticipation tempered with panic. Everything inside her stilled and waited.
Instead he straightened, retrieved her empty cup, and headed toward the kitchen without another word.
Jemma stared at the wall above the couch and couldn’t move, her brain befuddled and every fiber hot with longing. She couldn’t suck in a breath for a few seconds, her heart pounding. Disappointment mixed with relief. Staggering arousal surged and flowed inside her, demanding an immediate outlet.
How could she be disappointed and relieved that he hadn’t kissed her all at the same time? Had she lost her mind?
Sure, I could just grab him and kiss him first. Maybe the tension would be gone then, and I wouldn’t have to put up with this crazy, knee-weakening attraction that keeps slamming me in the gut. Her thighs tightened and she tried to deny the throbbing between her legs. Her clit felt sensitive to the slightest movement, the ache inside growing by the second.
“Want more coffee?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “Um. No.”
Good response, Jemma. The guy’s going to think he’s rattled your cage. And damn it, he has. She could scarcely form a coherent thought.
When he wandered back into the living room his expression betrayed nothing. Self-consciousness intruded and she wondered if he’d decided not to kiss her because he didn’t find her attractive.
Dolt, he just called you beautiful.
Then again, even if he thought she could launch a thousand ships it didn’t mean he would kiss her.
He settled on the couch again. This time he stayed on the edge, and she wondered if she’d overstayed her welcome. She found she didn’t want to leave.
Anxious to fill the silence, she asked, “What do you do to impress women?”
“I don’t much care what other people think of me. If a woman likes me, great. If she doesn’t like me, no sweat.”
Once again her mouth spoke before she could think. “I don’t imagine you have to worry. Women probably swoon at your feet.”
A crooked grin parted his lips. “Is that a compliment, Sweets?”
What if he does know you like him? Let it hang loose for a change. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to know that women find you attractive.”
She thought he’d smile at her teasing tone. Instead frown lines formed between his eyebrows. “Life’s been a little too damned busy lately to notice.”
Deciding danger lurked down the path of flirting, she switched gears. “How are you feeling now?”
“Good. A little tired, maybe, but nothing sleep won’t cure.”
Cue number one. She needed to flee so he could have some rest. She also must get away from him before he realized her interest had exploded into a full-blown crush.
That’s what it had to be. Why else would she feel like drooling like a teenager over him?
She stood and headed for the window. While she’d vaguely noticed the snow coming down earlier she hadn’t paid much attention to the amount. Wind whistled around the eaves and snow sliced across the window as a heavy gale battered the apartment complex.
“Man, would you look at that?” Blayne came up behind her. “I thought this snow was supposed to hold off until tonight.”
“Me, too.” A sinking sensation entered her stomach. “I’d better get out of here before I’m snowed in.”
She turned and almost bumped into him, but he didn’t budge. His hands came down on her shoulders. “You’re not going out in this weather. It looks icy as hell out there.”
>
“But—”
“No argument.” His fingers caressed her arms, warm and tantalizing. “It could be dangerous.”
A tiny panic welled up, one born of fear of the unknown. And right now being this close to this gorgeous man was starting to ramp up her libido and send her thought process into total disarray.
“It’s not that bad,” she said in defense.
He frowned. “Look, I’d be worried as hell if you went out there now. Wait until it blows over.”
“That could be morning.” Her voice came out sounding breathy.
He gave her a gentle smile overlaid with teasing. “Yeah.”
Chapter Two
Jemma’s heart seemed to stop in her chest. Part of her wanted to run as fast as she could, the other wished to explore what would happen if she became snowbound with this intriguing man.
She dared look into Blayne’s eyes. Dark and mesmerizing, his gaze made her want things, made her visualize tangled sheets, naked skin, and the incredible prospect of his hard cock wedged deep inside her. She craved connection, to experience what she knew within her primal instincts would be a mind-blowing escapade. If she understood nothing else about him, she realized he owned a sensual intelligence and masculine aura that radiated intoxicating sexuality.
Oh, God. It has been ages since I’ve slept with a man. Two years, to be exact.
Two years.
She hadn’t had a date, much less sex, since Blayne walked into her life. Afraid of what that meant, she shoved the insight to the back of her mind.
His hands felt big and strong on her shoulders, but he held her gently. Maybe if she kissed him, allowed him to pull her into his embrace and give her one of those heart attack producing lip-locks she dreamed about, she’d realize he was only human. He wouldn’t be the hero of her dreams, or perhaps fling material for a one-night stand.
As if I would have a fling. Thoughts jumbled in her head. Perhaps she should consider a quick affair for as long as Blayne stayed in town. She could remove this itch she needed to scratch, plus she would know what it would feel like to make love with him.
Correction. Fuck him. That’s all it would be, without commitment or promises. An incredible experience, but a fuck all the same. Going to bed with him wouldn’t have the taste of lifelong lovemaking, but the explosive need of two people no longer denying an awesome attraction.
What surprised—no, shocked—her was that she didn’t care. She’d always thought of herself as a woman who must have love and commitment before she had sex. With Blayne she simply had to have him.
She sighed. No matter how much she might want him to be ordinary, the man in front of her far surpassed her wildest dreams. There was nothing the least boring about this soldier and she knew it.
Unfortunately, she knew if she kissed him it would lead to more. She knew it by intuition, the way a woman always detects when a man desires her. She saw passion in his eyes and craved to know his taste, to touch him, and give everything she could.
Feeling vulnerable and eager, she shifted and Blayne released her shoulders. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.
“I really should go,” she said softly.
Concern entered his eyes. “I’ll worry about you if you leave.”
The softness and sincerity in his voice dissolved her heart yet another degree. She sighed. “That’s emotional blackmail.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “Yes, it is. But it’s true.”
Afraid of the heaviness in the air she asked, “I don’t know, Major, what will all your girlfriends think if they find out I’m here?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Nothing like fishing and getting a clear answer. Satisfaction made her say, “I find that hard to believe. I mean, that you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Believe it. Most women won’t tolerate seeing a guy only a few times a year.”
“That’s why I don’t think I could fall for a soldier. Too complicated.”
Disappointment entered his eyes, and she instantly regretted her cool, detached statement. “I thought all relationships are complicated. Why should dating a soldier be any different?”
A little ashamed, she said, “You’re right. Relationships take work no matter the occupation.”
“I have some buddies that are married, but most aren’t. If a man is in Special Forces, the work it takes to keep the relationship going can be tremendous.”
“But it can be done.”
“Of course. If the couple works at it and there’s commitment and willingness to stick out the tough times.”
“I’m not so sure most women are willing to let their husbands get shot at and maybe never return from a mission. And some of the wives aren’t that independent.”
He paced over to the breakfast bar and sat on one of the stools. “Graham seems to make it work and he has a wife and two kids.”
“He’s not Special Forces.”
Blayne grinned wryly. “Yeah, that does seem to royally fuck things up.” Her eyebrows rose at his language, and he immediately looked contrite. “Sorry. Living with dirty, stinking, tired men for months does that to me. I sometimes forget to clean up my language.”
“Don’t worry about it. My mouth gets me into trouble sometimes, too.”
“I can imagine,” he said huskily.
His gaze latched onto her mouth, and by the rapt expression on his face she wondered if he visualized her lips molding to his and then tasting his body. No, this man had no compunction about showing her with his expression what he wanted from her. He appreciated a woman, made her feel special. How would those incredible, muscular arms feel around her? Would he slide his hands down over her back, or would he be bold enough to cup her ass cheeks? Would he tenderly caress her lips, or would his tongue take instant possession?
As she watched him, she did a little exploring, too. Her gaze drank in his broad shoulders and his jeans curved over his thighs. She imagined one rock-hard thigh wedged between her legs.
Jemma’s face went hot and words popped from her mouth without thought. “Stop it.”
He snapped to attention, his gaze clearing. “What?”
“Picturing my…you…us…”
He laughed, then crossed his arms and peered at her like an instructor inspecting a student. “Spit it out, Sweets.”
Temping, very appealing to spill the answer and see what reaction she’d get. “Never mind. Let’s return to the subject of getting a life.”
“I think the subject we were on was fascinating enough.”
Despite the incredible urging inside her to succumb to his flirtations, to let everything hang out, embarrassment made her squirm. She looked at the floor. “Can it, Forbes.”
“Okay, if it makes you more comfortable, we can talk about our secrets again.”
“Kleptomania was my one secret. Not much happens in my life. Nothing exciting anyway.”
“That’s a shame. You don’t want a little adventure?”
“Depends on the adventure.”
That’s it, Jemma. Roll with it.
“What wouldn’t you do?” he asked.
A little frightened of the energy pinging back and forth, she returned to her chair and tried to look casual and unaffected. She slid down a bit so her head rested on the back and clasped her fingers over her stomach. “Bungee jumping is out, I think.”
“Yeah? Sounds like a piece of cake.”
She made a little snort of disbelief. “Of course it seems no big deal to you. You rappel out of helicopters and down the sides of mountains all the time. You run through jungles with a heavy backpack and don’t think twice about it.”
He laughed, and the deep, rolling sound warmed her like a hot toddy spiked with too much whiskey. Her heartbeat quickened, breathing escalating the tiniest bit.
A playful glimmer entered his eyes. “So you think life is dull?”
She sighed and sat upright again, far too nervous to do otherwise. “Maybe not dull, but something is
definitely missing.” Caught up and wanting him to understand, she leaned forward. “Maybe I need to look for a new hobby.”
“No more art museum?”
“Oh, I’d stay with the museum, but I’d volunteer somewhere else, too.”
“I’ve already tried filling my schedule with too many activities. It keeps your mind off things you don’t want to think about for a while. It keeps you from thinking about what you really want in life.”
Is that why she stayed so busy?
Aware of his scrutiny pinpointing her like a sniper rifle, the truth came out in all its baldness. “Blayne, just because that’s your situation, it doesn’t mean I need a lot of activities to keep me happy. I can be quiet sometimes.”
His attention didn’t waver. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that. I guess I was talking about myself.”
“There are things you need to forget?”
When he nodded she saw sadness in his eyes. “Yeah.”
She took a chance. “Want to talk about it?”
Uncertainty entered his eyes; she saw an insecurity she never expected to see in a man like this. Then again, maybe she didn’t give Blayne all the credit she should for hidden depths. She admired his obvious intelligence, his clear physical attraction. Yet intellect didn’t explain all riddles in the human mind. She wanted to know more about the real man and not the façade.
His eyes narrowed and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. “There have been some situations. Some missions where I’ve seen people killed and it takes a lot of internal processing.” He tapped his fist on his chest. “I usually talk it out with buddies who are willing to listen. Graham is really good at that.”
Pleasure filled her. She liked what she heard. “I’m surprised.”
“That he’s a good listener?”
She sighed. “No, that you’re willing to talk about things that bother you. So many men aren’t. It can cause problems down the line.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve figured out keeping everything I think inside me is a sure way to self-destruct. I’ve seen it with other soldiers and it isn’t going to happen to me. We haven’t had any men in my unit come unglued, but I’ve heard about others losing it and becoming violent toward their wives or girlfriends or pulling some other incredibly stupid stunt.” When she frowned, he asked, “Is that one of the things that worries you about getting involved with a soldier?”
By Honor Bound Page 11
