by S. M. Butler
She’d seen Shane several times over the past couple weeks, but their interactions continued to revolve around sex. They had meals together—before or after sex. They talked—before or after sex. They’d even spent a day exploring Chesapeake—before coming back to his place for sex.
Sex was always the common denominator, and although she was perfectly content with that, she couldn’t deny she was happy to see him tonight on an occasion when sex wasn’t on the table.
The restaurant was already at full capacity, hosting not only important critics and food bloggers, but some of Virginia’s elite as well. Jill had been worried that Shane and teammates would give off a military vibe that might hamper the exclusive atmosphere she and Drake were going for, but the men who walked through the door didn’t look the slightest bit out of place. She’d asked them to dress up, and boy, they sure hadn’t let her down.
It was difficult not to drool over the three very tall, very muscular men who filled out their dark suits to perfection. Shane had brought Duke, who greeted her with a warm hug, and Wyatt Connor, who she remembered from that first night at the bar. She hadn’t spoken to him then, and he didn’t say much now, save for a gruff thank-you for the invitation. The guy was intense as hell. Black hair, black eyes, black stubble—dude had bad boy written all over him.
When she shifted her gaze, she realized that Shane and Duke were sporting facial hair, too. She’d noticed that Shane hadn’t been shaving, and although the results were a sexy beard that made her fingers itch to stroke it, she wondered why he’d been forgoing a razor lately.
“Of course I made it,” Shane said in response to her surprised exclamation. “I RSVP’d, remember?”
“Right.” She decided not to mention she’d been worried he might be a no-show anyway. The man was a commitment-phobe to the core, and she didn’t want to do or say anything that might push him away again. “Come on, I’ll show you guys to your table.”
“This place is awesome,” Duke raved as they crossed the main room. His blue eyes drank in every inch of the space.
She and Drake had gone with a black-and-gray color scheme for the restaurant, sleek and modern, with a masculine edge to it. They were targeting a mostly male clientele, not just with the sleek mahogany tables and crisp black tablecloths, but the menu itself. Steaks galore, which would hopefully draw in the politicians and wealthy Virginians Jill and her partner hoped to lure in. To her elation, a lot of important people had shown up tonight, including two well-known senators and the editor-in-chief of the city’s major newspaper.
Jill led the men to a table against the far wall, blushing when Shane dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting down. Wyatt settled in the chair across from him and immediately reached for the drink menu, while Duke remained standing. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked casually.
“Oh, you go down that corridor, turn right, and—you know what? I’ll show you. I’m heading back there anyway.” She glanced at Shane. “Have a good time and enjoy your meals, okay? I’ll try to pop over once things settle down a bit.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiled, and her insides promptly melted. Smiles from this man were so rare, and so damn rewarding when they made an appearance.
She and Duke headed for the corridor, but the moment they were out of sight, the dark-haired man stopped and flashed her the most adorable dimples. Jeez, he really was gorgeous. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, deep blue eyes. She could see why he played the field—he probably had no shortage of willing women eager to play with him.
“I don’t need to use the can,” Duke said sheepishly.
Jill arched a brow. “Okay…”
“I just wanted to get you alone.”
Her guard flew up at the confession, but he swiftly eased her concerns with another grin. “I’m not going to hit on you, Red. Actually, I wanted to apologize for coming on so strong the night we met.”
“Oh.” The apology was surprising, but unnecessary. “I didn’t think you were out of line,” she assured him.
“Maybe not, but I just needed you to know I don’t usually flirt that hard.”
She snickered. “I don’t believe you.”
Those appealing dimples popped up again. Jeez, the guy was too handsome for his own good. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m a raging flirt. But not usually around girls my teammates are involved with.”
“Why’d you do it then?” she asked curiously.
“I was trying to get a reaction out of Senior.”
He said the word Senior with damn near reverence, which didn’t surprise her. From what she’d seen the night at Andy’s, all the younger SEALs adored Shane, and Jill totally understood why. Shane wasn’t just older than most of his teammates, but he exuded the kind of strength that made people take notice. When he issued an order, people listened. Not because they had to, but because they respected him. Liked him. Knew he’d always have their back, no matter what.
“He had a wife who died, did you know that?”
The quiet remark startled her, but she managed a nod.
“Good. I’m glad he told you. He doesn’t usually share that with people.” Sadness floated through Duke’s expression. “Honestly, he was spiraling for a while there. I mean, he was as focused and deadly as ever during ops, but we could all see him withdrawing. You’re the first woman he’s spent more than five minutes with in two years.”
She nodded again. She knew that, too.
“That’s why I tried getting a rise out of him,” Duke explained. “I could tell he liked you, but he was doing that shutting-down crap he does when women try to get too close. I just wanted him to give you a chance.”
“You don’t even know me,” Jill pointed out. “I could be terrible for him.”
“You’re not.” Conviction clung to his voice. “You’re fun and outgoing and you definitely don’t give up that easy. You’re good for him.”
Jill wasn’t sure how to respond. Whether or not she was good for Shane was yet to be determined, and would probably never be determined. Their relationship—or fling? Sexual affair? Whatever it was, it would run its course eventually. Shane had made it clear he wasn’t looking for forever.
And at the moment, neither was she. The restaurant needed her full attention if it was ever going to be a success.
“Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way,” she said lightly. “But I need to work now.” She fixed him with a stern look. “And you better talk the shit out of this place tomorrow. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a chuckle, Duke went back to the table, and Jill went back to work.
*
Shane hadn’t intended on sticking around until closing, but somehow, he did. The kitchen had closed at ten thirty, but the bar remained open, and during one of her visits to his table, Jill had told him the event would probably go on until midnight. And although Shane’s reservation had been for nine, he stayed at the table even after Duke and Wyatt had gone, sipping on a pint of Guinness as Jill worked the room.
The woman was amazing. She never ran out of smiles, never slowed down, never took a moment for herself. Not only had she spent the night chatting with the patrons and giving instructions to the wait staff, she’d even worked behind the bar for a while. Every now and then she’d stopped by his table to see if he was okay before hurrying off in a whirl of awe-inspiring energy, but he’d been fine with that. Truth be told, he was perfectly content watching her.
In the back of his mind, though, he still wasn’t sure why he’d come tonight. Their involvement was supposed to be about sex, and he’d had every intention of keeping it that way. But Jill had been talking about this opening since the day he’d met her, and a part of him had wanted to watch her bask in the success of her big night.
“Hey.” She appeared in front of him again, breathless and flushed. “We’re closing up now, but it’ll be another fifteen minutes or so before the staff is out of here. Do you mind waiting some more?”
“Not at a
ll.” He raised his half-empty beer glass. “I’m still nursing this.”
“Okay, good. And guess what?” She leaned in close. “Darnell Peterson just told me he had the best steak of his life tonight! The critic for the Sun loved my steak, Shane!”
Her joy was so contagious it brought a smile to his lips. “Congratulations.”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a bit. BRB!”
She dashed off in a redheaded blur, and it was twenty minutes before she returned again. Everyone had cleared out by then, the staff had cleaned up and left, the front doors were locked, and all the lights were off save for the small yellow fixture above Shane’s head.
Jill approached the table, looking tired and beautiful in a simple black dress and silver heels. He had no clue how she’d survived walking around on those scarily high heels all night long, but Christ, if she could endure that kind of torture, she’d probably pass SEAL training with flying colors.
The moment she reached the table, though, she kicked off the stilettos, collapsed in her chair, and declared, “My feet are killing me.”
“C’mere. Gimme those.” He scraped his chair closer so he could lift her legs into his lap.
When he dug his thumb and fingers into the sole of one foot, she purred in sheer ecstasy. “Oh my God. A foot massage? Marry me.”
Panic hit him square in the chest, but he relaxed when he realized she was kidding. And luckily, Jill hadn’t noticed his jumpy reaction, because her eyelids had closed and she continued to sigh happily.
“So it looks like tonight was a success,” Shane remarked as he rubbed her feet. Man, she had such small, dainty feet for such a tall woman.
Her eyes opened lazily. “I think so, too. We didn’t get a single complaint. Nobody sent back a dish. And Peterson said his review will be in tomorrow’s issue of the paper. He’s going to write it tonight and squeeze it in. He loved the restaurant that much.”
“You did good,” he said softly.
“I did good,” she echoed.
He shifted his attention to her other foot, and when she moaned loudly, his cock responded as if she’d wrapped her lips around it. This time she did catch the response. Impossible for her not to when a monster erection was poking at her ankles.
“Rubbing my feet gets you hot?” she teased.
“Rubbing any part of your body gets me hot,” he said glumly.
She laughed, then swept her gaze over his face. “What’s with the scruff, by the way? I keep meaning to ask you.”
“I’m growing it out.” He paused. “We deploy in a month and a half.”
“And you need a beard for that?”
His tone went vague. “It’s looking like we’re heading to the desert. Beards make it easier to blend in.”
A deep pucker formed between her brows. “You’re going to the Middle East? Is that safe?”
Shane chuckled wryly. “I’m a SEAL, sweetheart. Nothing I do is safe.”
“I guess,” she said, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “Should I be worried that you might get blown up or something?”
“Every time I step foot off US soil there’s a chance I’ll get blown up.”
“Wow. You’re the worst sugarcoater on the planet. You really need to work on your reassurance skills.”
The comment raised his hackles, because it was one Alana had made time and again. His wife had hated how frank he was about the dangers surrounding his job, but what else was he supposed to say? He could promise that he’d try to come home, but he couldn’t guarantee that he would.
“My life is dangerous,” he said honestly. “I can’t sugarcoat that.”
He expected her to argue, but Jill just nodded. “You’re right. There’s no point in wrapping the ugliness up in a pretty package. And I guess I prefer the candid approach. That’s how I operate, too.”
The tension seeped out of his chest like water from a drain. Yeah, this woman was candid, all right. It was one of his favorite things about her.
“So how long are you typically gone during a deployment?” she asked.
“We’ve got a six-months-on, eighteen-months-off cycle. When we’re in town, we’re undergoing training, but a lot of times we go wheels-up during the training cycle too. Those are usually shorter ops, though.”
She nodded again, and he knew she was thinking about the six-months part. He also knew that the moment he went overseas, their affair would come to an end. It wouldn’t be right to ask her to wait around for half a year just to keep a casual thing going. She deserved a helluva lot more than that.
“Holly climbs the walls whenever Carson is gone,” Jill said quietly. “I think about that sometimes, what a terrible feeling it must be. Being safe at home while your husband is risking his life on the other side of the world.”
“A lot of relationships don’t survive it,” he agreed.
“But yours did?”
He gave a brief nod. “Don’t get me wrong, Alana was out of her mind with worry when I was gone, but we didn’t drift apart the way some couples do.” He made a concession. “Still, every time I got back, we had to get to know each other again.”
“That sounds really tough.”
“It was, but relationships require work, and we were willing to work on ours. We didn’t give up, no matter how tough it got.”
“That’s good.” She looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t give up, either. My dad pretty much drilled failure is not an option into my head when I was still in the crib.”
“Was he very strict?”
“Not really. Just driven. He worked his ass off to make his vineyard one of the best in the world. He told me that if I was ever passionate about something, I had to work for it, nurture it.”
“What about your mother?”
“She died when I was two.” Jill’s voice grew strained. “Car accident.”
“Is that the accident you mentioned in San Diego?” he asked cautiously. “Where your fear of driving comes from?”
She shook her head. “No, that was something else. My mom was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from a baby shower. The other accident…that one was my fault.”
“What happened?”
Her reluctance to share was more than evident as she picked up her beer and took a hasty sip. “It’s a long story. I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”
“I want to hear it, if you want to tell me.” He gently set down her legs, then tugged her hand to coax her into his lap.
Arousal hit the second her firm ass settled on his crotch, but Shane willed it away because he could tell she was upset. Her shoulders had tensed, and her lips were pressed together in an unhappy line.
Shane folded his arms around her and brushed his lips over her cheek. “You don’t have to talk about it if you really don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine.” She relaxed slightly. “I was seventeen when it happened. I’d had my license for about a year at that point, and I was super confident in my driving.” Bitterness colored her tone. “I thought I was real hot shit. And I was the only one of my friends who had a car—this tiny hatchback my dad got from a used dealership. I was the one who drove all my friends around, and I loved playing chauffeur. It made me feel cool and important.” She paused. “My best friend was this girl Lisa. She was the star of the girls’ soccer team. I was the head cheerleader.”
“Cheerleader, huh? Doesn’t surprise me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you have an insane amount of energy,” he informed her. “It’s actually kinda scary.”
A smile ghosted across her lips, but it faded fast. “Anyway, Lisa and I had a routine. I drove her to school, we stayed afterward for soccer and cheerleading practice, and then I drove her home. But this one day, my practice ran late, and I was in a major hurry. I had a date and I wanted to go home and get ready for it, so I was speeding.” Shame twisted her features. “I figured, hey, I’m a great driver, I can speed a little. I kept an eye out for
cops, and I really wasn’t going that much faster than the speed limit, but it was still too fast.”
She swallowed visibly, and Shane felt her whole body quiver. He stroked her back, waited for her to go on.
“We were driving through an intersection just as this asshole in a huge pickup truck decided to run a red light. He hit the passenger side of my car, and I was going so fast I couldn’t stop or swerve away from him. My car flipped over half a dozen times before it finally slammed into a pole.”
“Shit.” He whistled softly. “It’s a miracle you survived.”
“We both did. I got away with nothing but a few cuts and bruises, and a slight concussion.” Jill’s face collapsed. “Lisa got it worse. She broke both arms and her right leg. God. Her leg was crushed, Shane.”
“But you both lived,” he said firmly.
The bitterness returned in full force. “Yeah, we both lived. But Lisa couldn’t play soccer anymore.”
“Broken bones heal,” he pointed out.
“Her arms healed, yes, but her leg was too fucked up. She underwent six surgeries for it, and after the cast came off, she walked with a limp and her leg never moved the same way it used to.” Jill’s jaw tightened. “She’d landed a full athletic scholarship to college. She’d been the best soccer player in the state, and she couldn’t play anymore. Because of me.”
Sympathy twisted his insides. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But it wasn’t entirely your fault. Someone else ran the red light.”
“I shouldn’t have been going that fast,” she mumbled. “If I hadn’t, I might have been able to stop.”
“Maybe, but you were still driving a hatchback and the other guy was in a pickup. Even if you’d gone the speed limit, the damage probably would’ve been just as bad.”
“Maybe,” she echoed, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Either way, Lisa’s parents didn’t care who ran the red light. They still blamed me for the accident. And so did she.” She trembled against him. “Lisa never spoke to me again. Not one word.”
