by Laura Kaye
She pushed into a sitting position and drank him in. The gray T-shirt emphasized the hard expanse of his chest and the warmth of his tan, and the khaki cargo shorts allowed her to catch a glimpse of those cut calf muscles again. She worked her gaze up to his face and found him watching her with a smug smile.
Heat roared over her cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
She eyed the pizza box and brown paper bag in his hands, her heartbeat kicking up in her chest. This guy was ten kinds of damn hot. And he came bearing gifts. Kind of an irresistible combination. “So, what did you bring me?”
“Does that mean I can sit down?”
She bit back a smile. “I suppose.”
Brady placed the food on the blanket and settled himself next to her. He flipped open the box lid. “Half cheese, half pepperoni.” From the bag, he pulled paper plates, two bottles of water, two bags of chips, and two sandwiches wrapped in white butcher paper. “One turkey and cheese, one Italian.”
Forget the food. Joss swallowed the moan she nearly uttered as the breeze kicked up and his scent surrounded her—all fresh soap and clean male. She shook her head and surveyed the feast. “Wow. Thank you. This is enough to feed an army.”
He shrugged and gave her what was almost a sheepish smile, and Joss’s stomach flipped at the appearance of this aw-shucks-good-guy persona, so different from the cocky bad boy he’d mostly shown her so far. “Wanted to be sure there was something here you’d like.”
Oh, she was in so much trouble. This guy was not only handsome and dangerously charming, but considerate, too. And going way out of his way, for her. “Well, I like everything I see,” she said, embracing a bit of brazenness even as her heart fluttered in her chest.
Brady cocked an eyebrow, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do ya, now?”
She held his gaze for a long moment, heat and competitiveness roaring between them. Finally, she looked away and reached for a bottle of water. He let out an infuriatingly smug chuckle and leaned forward to get it for her. Their hands touched on the bottle. The warmth of his skin sent tingles up her arm and shot her heart into a full-on sprint. His tongue stroked over his lower lip and Joss was suddenly starving, but not for the picnic in front of them.
Wow, this guy was like sexual Red Bull.
Not to mention Ethan had never elicited the wild desire now pounding through Joss’s body, and Brady had barely touched her. Not that there would be touching.
Right. No touching. Absolutely not.
He smirked and grabbed his bottle, taking a long drink that made the knot in his throat bob until she had to look away to restrain the urge to feel the movement with her tongue. Geez, even the chunky black watch on his wrist was sexy. She twisted the cap and tilted the water to her lips. The coolness soothed the heat racking her body.
Get a freaking grip, Joss.
“So, what’s your pleasure?”
She cut her gaze to him, forcing a swallow down. He gestured to the food, but that sparkle was there in his eyes again. Her brain raced on the possible ways she might find pleasure with him. “I’ll start with the pizza,” she managed to say.
They dished out the food, two slices for her, one slice and half of the Italian sandwich for him. As they made small talk, she inhaled the pizza, not realizing how hungry she’d been until she started to eat. The crust had just the right crunch to it, the sauce just the right spice. Delicious.
“There’s something about having a picnic that makes the food taste better,” she said as she took a small third slice of pizza.
“I’ve eaten plenty of meals outside that weren’t as nice as this. I think it’s the company more than the location.” He popped open a bag of chips and extended it toward her.
She reached in and retrieved a handful, not sure why she’d accepted when she was getting so full. Because you can’t say no to him, especially when he’s being all…cute and…charming. You. Are. In. So. Much. Trouble. “Thanks,” she said. Caught in a moment of awkwardness, Joss sipped at her water. “So, uh…” She scrambled for a topic. “Do you run a lot?”
He shrugged. “Most days.”
That sure explained his body, which radiated power and leashed strength even as he relaxed next to her. “I really suck at running.”
Brady gave her the closest thing to a full smile she’d seen. And damn if it wasn’t endearing, especially with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I do. I feel like I’m dying after about five minutes. I don’t know how you do it.”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin, then stuffed it in the bag with the rest of his trash. “I thought I was in shape when I entered basic training. First PT run—what you just said? That was exactly how I felt. I think I only got through it because my buddy hauled my ass the last mile. That and my drill sergeant might’ve been the devil.”
She chuckled, getting reeled in a little bit more by his self-deprecation when undoubtedly he no longer had that problem. And probably never did. “Nothing like the devil to make you haul ass, huh?”
“That’s the damn truth. So, are you sated yet?”
“What?”
He quirked a crooked grin. “All done?”
He pointed to the spread in front of them, but Joss had enough experience to recognize a smooth talker when she saw one. “You playing with me?”
“No, ma’am.” He nailed her with a serious expression. “Not yet.”
Heat roared over her cheeks. How he managed to infuse that military politeness she loved into something so laden with innuendo she had no idea. But the tingles skittering over her skin sure meant she liked it. She chuffed out a laugh. “Bad, bad news,” she muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing you need to know, sailor boy.” She looked at him from under her lashes to make sure he knew she was just riding him. Her hands fumbled the trash she was gathering as an arresting image gripped her—her, riding him, as in… Geez, Joss. There will be no riding. Get. A. Grip.
Why not? an insidious little voice whispered.
She released a shaky breath and busied her hands with the trash. “I am done. Thanks a lot for bringing all this. Can I give you some money for it?”
“Not a chance. You provided the blanket. I provided the food. We’re square.” He pushed the leftover food to the side and collected the trash. “Be right back.”
It was damn near impossible to drag her gaze away from his ass as he maneuvered between the blankets and chairs to the trash can, but she needed to do something before he returned. She grabbed her phone and sent her best friend a text message.
Met someone named Brady at fireworks. Just talking. But if you don’t hear from me by midnight have the police look for my body parts at Founders Park. :P
Brady settled down beside her.
She dropped her phone into her lap. “So, how long are you stationed in the area?”
He braced his forearms on his knees. “Two years, give or take. Working for the Army Staff at the Pentagon.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting. And where were you before here?” Her phoned beeped.
“Stationed out of Okinawa, but lots of places from there.”
“You could tell me but then you’d have to kill me?”
He smirked. “Something like that.”
“How long have you been in?”
“A little over five years.” He fingered a design in the condensation on his bottle of water. “What do you do?”
Her phone beeped again. “I help run a community center for disadvantaged kids.”
“Yeah? Working with kids, that’s…really great. Admirable.”
Joss appreciated the sentiment coming from someone who did what he did. “The kids make it fun,” she said as her cell beeped a third time. She picked up the phone and gave Brady a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Let me reassure my friend you’re not a serial killer.”
He chuckled. “What time did you give her before she should call the police?�
��
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Well, now, if I told you that, then you’d know how long to wait until you could stuff me in the back of your nondescript van.”
Smiling, he nodded. “Right.”
She opened Christina’s messages.
The first one read: Woman! I need deets!
Then: Ooh, Brady’s a good name.
Finally: Be safe. Use a condom. And don’t forget to call me!!! Also, DEETS!!!
Joss shook her head. In so many ways, she and Christina Flores were total opposites, but they just clicked. She wrote back, TY! Will do!, then set the phone to vibrate and dropped it to the blanket.
When she lifted her gaze, Brady was watching her. “In all seriousness, I’m glad you did that. But, in case it needs to be said, I’m not a serial killer.”
She couldn’t help her smile. “Good to know. Neither am I.”
“You had me worried,” he said, giving her a wink.
“It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Are you quiet, Joss?”
BOOM!
Joss flinched into his side, her heart racing. She’d been so deep into Brady’s scorching gaze that the explosion of the first firework caught her off guard.
He leaned into her and chuckled. “Jumpy?”
“No,” she said, leaning into him so he could hear her over the constant thunder of the colorful firework display. “Just didn’t realize they were starting already.”
He nodded and turned his gaze to the show. But though her surprise faded, her heart rate never returned to normal. And it had nothing to do with the red, white, and blue starbursts lighting up the sky. A mere inch separated her body from Brady’s, and despite the loud splendor of the fireworks, he dominated her senses. The heat from his arm warmed hers, and made her long for the real heat skin-on-skin contact would bring. Sitting so close, that clean scent she’d noticed earlier, like soap and sun and male, was all she could smell now, and she wondered how much more potent it would be if she pressed her nose, her lips, to his throat, his jaw, his mouth and breathed it in from the source.
Even as Brady sat watching something as simple as fireworks, he didn’t seem to relax. Tension clung to the hard set of his jaw, the tight bunching of his shoulders. He was a big man. Obviously strong, apparently deadly, given his profession. She couldn’t decide if his intensity thrilled her, or scared her just a little. Maybe both.
He glanced over and caught her looking. Joss dropped her gaze and hoped the cover of night hid the heat blooming on her face. When she peeked from under her lashes, he was still watching her.
Her stomach flopped and her hand fisted the soft cotton of the blanket. A tingle ran through her center that made her catch her breath against the sudden urge to push him back, crawl on top of him, and kiss him until all that tension melted out of his body. Right here. Right now. No matter the spectators, or the fact he was nearly a stranger.
A very hot, damn sexy, purportedly non-serial-killer stranger.
She saw her own desire mirrored back at her. Brady’s mouth dropped open and his dark eyes narrowed and blazed in the night.
It took everything she had to return her attention to the fireworks. Or at least pretend to. Because her body jangled with awareness of his until her muscles ached from the strain of holding herself in place. This is crazy. Maybe. Probably. But the dampness between her legs wasn’t the result of the early September heat.
His breath ghosted over her ear, erupting ticklish chills on her neck and arms. “I’m going to kiss you here, Joss.” The tip of his finger skimmed her cheek.
Heart in her throat, she nodded.
Brady pressed a lingering kiss to her cheekbone. Her hands fisted as she struggled not to turn her head and offer her lips. She was already throwing her no-touching admonition out the window.
“Here,” he said, touching her jaw.
She nodded and his lips dragged along the line of her jaw.
“Here, too.” His finger pressed against the soft spot right in front of her ear.
She tilted her head and gave him more space to nuzzle her. Surely he could hear her heartbeat over the fireworks, because she could feel her pulse pound under every inch of her skin.
What the hell was she doing? She should really put a stop to this.
He drew an imaginary line beginning at the indent behind her ear and running down her neck. She nodded without him even asking the question. He chuckled in her ear but then his lips were kissing with the lightest suction down her neck.
Applause erupted around them. Joss snapped out of her haze of lust. Brady pulled back and gave her a look that promised a whole helluva lot more where that came from.
Holy crap. She’d never survive it.
Suddenly, the field was in motion, people packing up their belongings and beelining for their cars. Soon, Old Town would be a gridlocked mess. No use fighting it.
He rose and held out a hand to help her up. She accepted, the surrounding heat of his grip reigniting the trembling need inside her. “Thank you,” she said.
He didn’t let go. “Did you enjoy it?”
She gaped up at him.
Brady’s dark eyes filled with humor and he nodded toward the river. “The fireworks.”
She nailed him with a you’re-so-full-of-shit-even-though-you’re-crazy-hot glare. Or, at least, that’s what she was thinking. “Yeah. Fireworks were great. Were they good for you?”
“Spectacular.” He guided Joss to the side, then bent to lift and fold her blanket.
“Here. I’ll do that.” She accepted it from him and quickly reduced the cotton to a thick square.
“Don’t forget your book.” He retrieved it from the grass, then stopped and angled it at the nearest streetlight. His eyebrows flew up as he turned the cover toward her and pointed. “SEALs?” He sighed and shook his head, affecting a long-suffering expression. He tapped his fingers against the picture. “You know, it’s really hard work posing for all these covers.”
She yanked it from his hands, then whacked him in the stomach with it. “Shut up.” Geez. His stomach was like a brick wall, solid and unmoving. She wondered if all of him was that hard.
“I’m just saying,” he said with a chuckle, then grabbed the pizza box, untouched sandwich, and last bag of chips.
“Uh-huh. Pain in the ass.” Bet his ass is hard, too.
He nodded. “So, uh. Where are you parked?”
Joss pointed across the field. “Lot behind that building over there.”
He held out a hand, indicating she should go ahead. “I’ll walk you.”
She thought about protesting, but honestly she wasn’t ready to have them part. What exactly was she ready for? She didn’t know that either.
But would it really be so wrong to indulge a little? Or even a lot? After the day she had, it might be just what the soldier, er, doctor ordered. She ignored the little voice that whispered she was setting herself up to get hurt. As usual.
They moved into the streaming sea of people. The breeze made the thin cotton of her wrap skirt float around her legs and emphasized just how damp her thong was. Despite the crowd, she was struck by how dominating Brady’s presence was beside her. She wasn’t short, but she almost felt it next to him. And whenever approaching walkers necessitated that they proceed single file instead of side by side, he’d place his hand on the small of her back and guide her in front of him. The gesture revealed a man with impressively good manners, but the touch made her muscles jump and her body yearn for more every time.
“Oh, hold up. Can we go this way for a second?” He nodded toward the river.
“Uh, sure. Why?”
He shrugged and looked away. “I just really hate to waste food.”
She nodded, still not sure what he had in mind, and when he held out his hand, she grabbed it. That big, calloused grip around hers made her willing to follow his lead. Again.
Crossing the grass, they approached an old, shabbily dressed man seated under a street lamp on a bench at
the park’s edge, a beat-up duffel bag at his feet, and a small, scruffy dog curled beside him. She hadn’t seen him over the heads of the other people, but apparently Brady had. Realization flooded Joss and her heart tripped over itself.
“Hey, man. Can I pet your dog?” Brady asked.
The homeless man grinned and nodded. “You betcha. Just move real slow-like. He’s an attack dog in disguise.”
The dog was old as dirt and, if he’d ever been an attack dog, was long in retirement. He lifted two sagging eyelids and stretched out. Brady released her hand, then crouched down and stroked the mutt’s wiry fur. “Looks like I caught him at a good time.”
“Yeah,” the man said, eyeing the dog with the kind of affection reserved for a best friend. “You a soldier, son?”
With a nod, Brady said, “Army Special Forces.”
Whoa. That was news to Joss. Not just any old soldier, then.
“That right? I was a grunt back in the day. ’Nam.”
“Jungle’s no better than the sandbox, I suspect.” Brady reached out a hand. “Brady Scott.”
Her heart thundered against her breastbone. She’d thought Brady all intense playfulness, but with his kindness and respect to this homeless man he’d just proved himself more compassionate than most. Given how she’d grown up, she’d always been a sucker for a compassionate soul.
“You got that right.” The effort it took for the man to extend his arm and return the handshake was obvious, but the gleam in his eyes said he didn’t mind making it. “Mike McAffey.”
“Nice to meet you.” Brady looked up at the departing crowds. “Well, I guess we best be heading home.” He stood. “Oh, hey. I’ve got half a pizza and an untouched sandwich here. Any chance you might like them? Sure would save me from carrying them home.”
Just like that, Brady let the man retain his dignity, too. Mike’s glance roamed from the items in Brady’s hand to the dog to Joss. “If it would help you out, I’m sure me and Goose wouldn’t mind.”
“Goose?” she asked as Brady settled the food on the bench by the duffel bag.
“You ever seen how mean geese can be?” He nodded at the sleeping dog. “Goose.”
