SEAL of My Dreams
Page 33
“Ma’am?” The voice was hushed, a colorless sound. “Miss Warner?”
Panic flushed through her veins. The rats knew her name! No, she thought, common sense prevailing. Of course it wasn’t a rat calling to her. Still, she wasn’t ready to trust that ghostly voice. Was this a terror-sourced auditory hallucination? Or one of the bad guys who wanted to flush her out?
The whisper came closer, even as she pressed harder against the concrete at her back. “Are you in here, ma’am? I’ve come to help, Miss Warner. I’m from the government. Your uncle—”
BOOM!
Throwing her arms over her head, she released a full-throated scream as the whole house was rocked on its foundation by a blast more powerful than any before. More chunks of plaster fell, more boxes toppled. She bit her tongue and tasted blood. From the murky shadows, a dark shape leaped forward. Before she could scream again, Mandy’s balled figure was caged by a hard, lean, male body.
BOOM!
The stranger’s large hand pushed her head low; he pressed his cheek against the side of her hair. The building shifted again, a box toppled from a shelf above, and the man surrounding her made an almost inaudible grunt as it glanced off his shoulder.
The world stopped moving. Silence descended. Even the gunfire seemed farther off.
Or maybe that was because Mandy could barely hear over her own harsh breaths, a counterpoint to the more measured ones of the man shielding her. Trying to calm herself, she inhaled deeper, taking in a combination of plaster dust and clean man-scent. The quiet voice spoke in her ear. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, trying to assess her new circumstances. The man’s accent was American, his actions protective. After four frightened hours, was she finally rescued? “Who—” she had to break off to work some saliva over her dry tongue, “—are you?”
He sat back on his haunches, his arms still curled around her shoulders. It allowed Mandy room to lift her head. “I’m Josh,” he said. “Your uncle sent me to find you.”
She blinked, peering at him through the gloom. His hair was clipped close to his head and was darker than her honey-blonde. The hard-edged angles of his face told her he was closer to thirty than her own twenty-five. He was studying her in turn, and she couldn’t guess what the anxious morning had wrought on her appearance. It seemed like a year ago that she’d put on jeans and a light cotton camisole top. Her straight hair wasn’t tempted to wave even in this climate’s humidity, so she’d left it loose to her shoulders. She did recall putting on a coat of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss, but who knew where the make-up had wandered to now?
His gaze followed the self-conscious journey her tongue took across her lower lip. She thought he might have made a sound, somewhere deep in his throat, but her hearing was off again, disrupted by a sudden stumble of her heart followed by its odd and unprovoked thundering. The man glanced down as if tracking the sound, and she saw that he had heavy, spiky lashes. They weren’t feminine in the least, but as declaratively male as the rest of him.
At the thought, she remembered her earlier worry, and had to suppress a near-hysterical giggle. She felt as if she was sixteen again and drunk on wine coolers in the parking lot after the school dance. “I thought you were a rat.”
A flash of white betrayed his quick, boyish smile. Mandy felt it, a visceral blow as real as those blasts that had rocked her world all morning. Her head made a drunken spin as warmth spread across her skin. She hoped the basement’s shadows concealed her blushing face.
“Not quite a rat,” he said. “I’m a SEAL.”
Mandy blinked again. “A seal—” She thought of the animal. Then she bumped the heel of her hand against her forehead as logic took charge of her addled brain. Josh wore a T-shirt and a pair of camouflage pants tucked into workman-style boots. No, military boots. He’d said he was from the government. “You mean a SEAL, capital S, E, A, L.”
He smiled again. “Capital Y, E, S.” Then his long-fingered hands squeezed her shoulders. “Sit tight, okay? I’m going on a quick recon to see how those latest explosions left us.”
When he made to rise, Mandy found herself clutching his wrists, cold alarm washing over her. “Don’t.” She didn’t mean to say it any more than she meant to be squeezing him like a lifeline, but she had the sudden anxious thought that she couldn’t lose him now. Not when she’d just found him! “Don’t go.”
He stilled and his gaze roamed over her face in a way that was almost . . . almost tender. His voice softened. “It’s all right.” He slid from her grasp only to take her hands in both of his. “You’re not alone anymore, Miss Warner.”
“Mandy.” She felt the sting of stupid tears in her eyes. You’re not alone anymore. It seemed like she’d been alone forever. Longer than the four hours in the basement, that was sure.
“Mandy,” he repeated, chaffing her chilly hands between his. She felt the calluses on his palms and fingers. The small abrasion only made the touch feel more personal. Intimate.
Then he brushed his mouth against her knuckles. She told herself it was merely a kind and reassuring gesture. Something one human would offer to another. “It’ll take me three minutes tops, Mandy. Then I’ll be back with you.”
God, how much she wanted him with her! Unnerved by the truth of that, Mandy forced herself to draw her fingers from his. “I’m fine now.” Get a hold of yourself, girl. “Take your time.”
“Sit tight,” he said again.
“I’ll be right here.” Where I will pull myself together. When he returned he wouldn’t guess she was, though now rescued, a shivery mess of confusion. Likely it was just a reaction to the morning’s strain, but there was something about him that . . . that called to her. It was crazy, she knew it, so she would put from her mind the almost primitive attraction she was feeling for the hard-bodied man with the unexpectedly sweet smile.
Mandy wasn’t surprised that Josh kept his word. When he returned to her corner he spent a few moments inspecting the stability of the fallen bookcase that was serving as the roof of her niche. As he removed the last of the boxes that remained on the shelving, she remembered now that one had fallen on him earlier.
“Are you okay?” she asked. When he bent over to meet her gaze, she pointed to his shoulder. “Something fell on you before.”
“Didn’t make a dent.” He squatted again. “You chose a good spot to hunker down.”
Uh-oh. “Does that mean we’re not leaving anytime soon?” She winced as more gunfire sounded in the distance. “Or maybe that’s for the best.”
“We’re here for a bit,” he confirmed. “For one, the way I got in is now blocked. For two, I think it’s still too hot out there for a secure extraction.”
“I understand.” Though she thought it was a little hot in here, too.
“My team will come for us when it’s safer.”
Mandy shifted to make room for him in her nook. “C’mon in, then. The water’s fine.”
That brought another of his quick grins. Then he crawled nearer and she shifted to the angle end of the isosceles triangle created by the tilted bookcase, leaving him the larger space. She couldn’t risk any skin-to-skin contact, since clearly his short absence wasn’t long enough to eradicate his appeal. His radiating body heat was enough to make her nerves jangle and her hands jitter. She couldn’t imagine actual touching would help matters.
She slid him a sidelong glance. “My uncle’s all right?” He’d gone to work at the embassy that morning, though he’d promised to be home early for the Thanksgiving dinner she’d been planning to cook.
“Just fine, beyond a bit frantic over you. When the trouble started, they closed the embassy. My team was in the area and we received an unofficial request to secure the U.S. civilians in jeopardy.”
Mandy nodded. “I’m grateful. Thank you.”
After a hesitation, Josh craned his neck to get a better look at her face. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt? You didn’t fall earlier or hit your head or . . . ”
> “No. Nothing happened. I came down here to collect some canned chicken broth when I heard—and felt—the first explosions.”
“Grenades and mortar rounds.”
“Ah.” She drew up her knees again and rested her chin on them, allowing her hair to fall forward and screen her face.
But Josh wasn’t having that. One of his fingers slipped beneath the curtain it made. He drew a line across her cheek as he tucked the hair behind her ear. She felt the rim of her ear go hot. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can tell you’re trembling.”
And here she thought she was holding it together fairly well. “Today has been a little . . . trying.”
“I bet it was stressful.” He touched her cheek again. “But you’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Countering the urge to lean closer, she edged away from him. “Thanks.” Was this stress? Was her reaction to the morning’s events this clamoring inclination to press herself against him? She slid a second look in his direction. He had his knees up too, his forearms propped on them, his hands dangling. Fascinated by them, she studied the wide palms and the long, limber digits. His nails were clipped close enough to show only a thin line of white.
Her gaze focused in on the forefinger of his right hand. That’s the one that touched me. Drawing in a shaky breath, she tried dispelling the desire for it to touch her again. But the longer she stared, the more she wanted—and the more the atmosphere around them seemed to thicken. Yet he didn’t appear to notice the heavy air and crackling tension sharing their small space. He remained still, his pose relaxed.
I’m nuts, Mandy thought. This . . . this . . . whatever . . . was clearly one-sided.
BOOM!
Mandy jumped—straight for Josh.
He yanked her between his knees and against his chest. Her face was pressed to his throat, her arms circled his neck, and she could feel the powerful thudding of his heart as their world rocked and rolled once more. When it was calm again, they both let out long breaths. His mouth moved against the top of her head. “Okay?”
She nodded.
Neither one of them made to break apart.
Beneath her, his chest rose in another long, careful inhale. The exhale stirred her hair, but she remained still, soaking in the intense rightness of being held by this man . . . this stranger. She was shivering, not as an aftershock to the explosion, but as a reaction to the sexual headiness of breathing in his scent and of being so close to his bare skin. His hand stroked down her back and she squeezed shut her eyes and turned her head just the tiniest fraction so that her lips touched the beating pulse at his throat.
His heartbeat accelerated—hers was pounding like crazy—and neither of them changed position for long, long moments. Then Josh stirred. “I should take another look around. See if that last one changed our circumstances.”
“I think it definitely did,” Mandy heard herself whisper.
He gave a soft laugh, then put her away from him. She didn’t dare try reading his expression as he extricated himself from their shelter, because she wasn’t sure what he was thinking about their impromptu embrace. But then he was back, and she thought she had her answer. Once he was seated again, without comment he reached for her and lifted her to sit between his knees, her back to his chest. Mandy rested against him, once more experiencing the intoxicating combination of desire and safety.
“We’re going to be here a while more.” Josh drew up the fallen strap of her camisole and then his thumb smoothed a circle on her bare shoulder as gunfire sounded in the distance. “I suggest we pass the time by you telling me all about Mandy Warner.”
“No fair,” Mandy said, feeling her nipples contract in response to the small strokes. “I want to know all about Josh . . . ” She turned her head to look at his face and was close enough now to see that he had pale gray eyes. They should have appeared cool, but there was something in them that made it hard to swallow. Her skin felt tight on her bones and almost feverish. “Josh, um, what?”
“Josh—Joshua—Frye. Chief Special Operator, at your service.”
Oh, yeah, she had some ideas of services he could provide. She whipped her head back around before he could read them on her face. “I don’t know anything about the military.”
“I’m an enlisted man. Joined up when I was twenty. A recruiter found me on the triathlon circuit. He convinced me with the SEAL motto, ‘The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday’. Sounded like a challenge, and I couldn’t resist.”
She slapped a light hand on his outstretched leg. “Mr. Macho.”
“Hey.” He captured her hand on the hard muscle of his thigh. “That’s Chief Mr. Macho to you.”
With her fingers sandwiched by his body, his heat, her heart took a woozy, wobbly spin. She struggled for some intelligent thing to say that wasn’t touch me more, take me now, oh God, I’ve never felt like this before. “Are you . . . ” Her voice sounded hoarse, and she swallowed to lubricate her throat. “Are you from a Navy family?”
“Nope. My dad, my older brother, and my older sister are all doctors.”
“You didn’t want to do that as well?”
She felt him shake his head. “Blood makes me squeamish.”
Her skeptical glance confirmed he was smiling. “Okay, the fact is I don’t have the patience to deal with patients. My mom said I emerged from the womb feet first, I was that eager to start doing things. I like to be moving.”
Feeling all that lean muscle surrounding her, she could believe it. “You seem to be pretty patient right now though.”
He was quiet a moment, then he ran his free hand slowly over her hair. “I can wait when I need to. When I should. Plenty of experience with discipline in the military too.”
Subtext: This is going too fast. And she couldn’t deny it. The attraction was too fast and too crazy and she’d be really worried about herself if she didn’t know it was also mutual. It had to be mutual, right? She could tell that by the way his heart was thudding against her spine and by the way he kept playing with her long hair.
“Now you,” Josh said, tugging on the ends.
“I’m an orphan. My mom and her second husband died in a car crash four years ago.”
He made a sympathetic noise and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
She shrugged. “We weren’t close. My dad was gone before that, and so the only relative I have left in the world is Uncle Jim—he was my stepdad’s brother.”
“He said you were visiting for the holiday.”
“Yeah. I recently relocated to Los Angeles, and I was at loose ends because I don’t start culinary school until January.”
“You’ve always wanted to be a chef?”
“Not really. But I like to cook and bake and I hope it will be more interesting than the bookkeeping I’ve been doing since college. I’ve never really known what I want to be, only what I want to have.”
He followed up with the natural question. “Which is?”
The answer welled up inside her, stilling all her jittering nerves, cooling all her hot desires. Though her limbs had gone suddenly leaden, Mandy forced herself to move away from Josh. He didn’t say a word as she shifted away from him and into her angled corner. Wrapping her arms around her upraised knees again, she forced herself to face him.
He shifted as well, putting his back to the wall, the toes of his military-issue boots almost touching those of her sky-blue espadrilles. His gaze met hers, the expression in his pale eyes calm and serious. Expectant.
Still, she hesitated, not wanting to burst the bubble that their little place-beneath-the-bookcase had become. The street battle sounds had receded, though she didn’t know if the skirmish was physically more distant or if the connection to Josh was so strong that it took the near-full attention of her senses. She listened to his steady breathing, his wide chest moving up and down beneath his T-shirt. His arms were roped with muscle, and for the first time she noticed there was a gun strapped to his hip. The handle of a knife protruded from a sheath buckled a
round his calf.
He was a warrior. More, a special kind of warrior, prepared to leave on a moment’s notice . . . leaving loved ones behind. She’d done her share of reading about SEAL heroism and knew that his job meant long absences, long silences, lots of danger.
“What I’ve always wanted to have,” Mandy said slowly, “is a . . . a partner. I’ve felt alone so much of my life. I want to have someone who will always be there. A man to come home to every night.”
Josh didn’t comment. He only nodded and after a moment she nodded back. Neither needed to say out loud that he was not that man.
Though she and Josh made it out of her uncle’s damaged house by nightfall, there wasn’t any Thanksgiving feast that day. Mandy actually didn’t feel like eating at all, even once she was checked into a highly secure, luxury high-rise hotel in the city center. Uncle Jim had reserved his own room, but she guessed he wasn’t spending any time there. His presence at the embassy was needed.
Mandy wasn’t needed by anyone. Late Friday afternoon, wrapped in a thick terry robe and her own glum mood, she lay stretched on the bed clicking through the few English language channels on the television. The sound of a knock was a welcome relief from her own solitary company.
Still, she peered through the peephole before opening the door. Her breath and her heart seemed to collide in her chest as she saw Josh standing in the hall. Her skin flushed hot from her hairline to her ankles but that didn’t stop her hand from yanking on the knob. With nothing separating them, they stared at each other from either side of the threshold.
He wore a pair of jeans, newish running shoes, and a button-down shirt, the cuffs folded back to his elbows. His pale eyes picked up the slate blue color. “Hi,” he said, a faint smile on his face. He held up a familiar-looking suitcase. “I retrieved your things from your uncle’s house.”
Mandy clutched the lapels of her robe at her throat. She’d never expected to see him again—and she was thrilled to have a second chance to look at his starkly handsome face. Glum fled as gladness roared through her, a feeling so intense that a hot sting of tears pricked her eyes.