by April Hunt
“No. But I did in the Army.” Smirking, she took a step closer. “I should probably be insulted at the surprised look on your face, but I’ll let it slide. This time. Besides, it’s not like you’d be the first.” She nodded toward the intricate prosthetic in his hand. “You mind if I take a look? I haven’t seen one exactly like this before, but I’ve handled my fair share.”
He handed it over. “This is a prototype. A buddy of mine started designing them after coming home with his own amputation. He wanted me to try it out for a while and see how I like it.”
“It’s impressive.” She studied the intricate system of gliding pistons and gears. “These joints allow for a lot of free movement. I bet your friend is big into extreme sports.”
Roman’s lips twitched. “Yeah. How’d you guess?”
“Shock absorbers.” She pointed to the layered pads surrounding the contraption’s heel and where the ball of the foot would be located. “So what’s happening?”
“Nothing at first. It moved like silk, but the harder I pushed it, the more it lagged. Felt like it was catching on something every time I took a step.”
Isa flexed the toes and bent the ankle, studying all the shifting parts. Roman’s careful scrutiny didn’t go without her notice, warming her cheeks until she finally found the issue. “It’s that middle piston in the center. It looks like there’s some gunk on it. Working it over with some oil or WD-40 might do the trick.”
Roman studied her carefully. She didn’t offer to help him, knowing the kind of answer she’d get. Judging by the look of his amputation, he’d had it for a while and knew more about prosthetics and limb massage than she did.
He took the prosthetic and set it aside to grab a blade device. “Guess I’ll go old-school until I can get my hands on some.”
Giving him privacy, she looked around the room. “So this is where you guys train?”
“Some of us. I think Knox and Tank use it the most out of everyone. I prefer to use the one at my place.”
“But does yours have one of those,” Isa teased, gesturing to the thermal tub tucked into the back corner.
“Actually, I have three.”
“What do you mean?” She turned toward him as he got to his feet.
“I live on the second floor of a warehouse off the pier, and I’m converting the first floor into a gym for people like me.”
“Veterans?”
“For anyone who needs a little extra head space to go along with their exercise regime. I know what it’s like to be used to living one way and then get knocked down a few hundred pegs. Crawling your way back isn’t always pretty, and it’s easier to do what you need to do if you’re not worried about being someone’s entertainment.”
“That’s great, Roman.”
He narrowed his eyes. “But…?”
“But nothing. I think that’s an incredible idea.”
Roman looped a towel around his neck and stepped closer. “It’s still a work in progress. For now, I have my hands full with Steele Ops…and a certain mouthy doctor.”
Isa rolled her eyes, and then their trajectory slid down the impressive view of Roman’s torso. Damp with sweat, his six-pack abs glistened and just begged her to reach out and touch, to see if they were as rock hard as they looked.
Actually, an eight-pack. She recounted.
Isabel balled her fists at her sides and tried to shift her gaze from the impressive hip ridge that cut across his lower waist and dipped into his basketball shorts. Evidently Roman wasn’t the only one who needed a cold shower.
Her body flushed, suddenly way too warm, and got warmer when Roman cocked an eyebrow up into his hairline. “When you’re done mentally objectifying my body, do you want to tell me why you’re up so early?”
“You were up earlier than me.” Tempted to steal his towel and use it to fan her suddenly overheated body, Isa shifted on her feet. “And I was not objectifying your body.”
“I don’t sleep much…and yes you were.” Roman leaned against the wall, giving her a model-worthy pose that put every muscle on display. His lips twitched as he tapped the corner of his mouth. “You still have a little drool right about there, Doc.”
“What do you…?” It took a few seconds for her to register his meaning. “Oh, get over yourself, Mr. Secret Sexpert. Yes, you’re attractive, but I’m old enough to know sometimes the pretty outside packages can be rotten to the core on the inside. Besides, I have a general rule to not get involved with guys who think I’m capable of biological terrorism. Call me fickle.”
“I never said that I thought you were involved.”
“You didn’t need to. Your face may be a blank mask ninety percent of the time, but your pretty brown eyes are extremely telling.”
“Pretty?” Roman’s voice dropped a few octaves, its gravelly tone practically brushing against her skin as he pushed off against the wall and stepped closer. “I don’t think anyone has ever used that adjective to describe me before.”
“Let me guess what people have used: frustrating, irritating, mule-headed, and stubborn. Have I gotten any of them right so far?” Isabel matched his step with one of her own. She wasn’t sure if it was her temper making her hot, or Roman’s heated gaze. Either way, too much longer of this and her panties would leave scorch marks on her rear end. “Do you want me to keep listing? I could probably go on for days.”
Roman stepped closer, putting them an arm’s length away. “I may not have any fancy letters behind my name, but I’m pretty sure a few of those words are basically the same thing.”
His body heat beckoned her, and she shivered as she stepped forward. Two feet and counting. “And yet using one doesn’t seem like enough.”
“Every single one of those adjectives can be turned around and used to describe you, too, Doc. Or did you forget your little edict before storming out of the room yesterday?”
Isa’s mouth dropped, and she leaned closer until her shoes bumped Roman’s. “I did not storm.”
He challenged her with a faint lift of his brow. “But you did give an edict? Or a demand? How would you like to spin it?”
“I may be mule-headed, Roman Steele, but you’re the whole damn donkey.”
Isabel didn’t know who moved first.
Their bodies clashed together in a tangle of limbs and tongues. Thrust and retreat, they devoured each other with every breath. Isa speared her fingers into his hair, fusing their mouths together as Roman, fingers biting into the flesh above her yoga pants, backed her against the wall.
A small moan escaped her throat as she swiveled her hips against the growing erection pushing against her stomach. Holy crap, the man was huge everywhere. Lifting one leg, she anchored it around his thigh and tilted to get closer, cursing the clothes that kept her from feeling every inch of his body.
Maybe it was lack of oxygen, or a freak rush of hormones, but by the time she forced her mouth away from Roman’s her head spun like a carousel. He trailed his mouth down the curve of her neck and nipped and kissed until she was a whimpering ball of need.
“Roman,” Isa groaned.
As if saying his name broke through the fog of lust, they broke apart as suddenly as they’d come together. Isa’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, the only thing she could hear other than her and Roman’s heavy pants.
At least she wasn’t the only one affected by whatever the hell had just happened.
Instead of telling her the kiss was a mistake, or that it couldn’t happen again, Roman stalked out of the gym muttering a long string of curses. Isa leaned against the wall until she could lock her knees, and absentmindedly touched her mouth, her lips pleasantly swollen.
In her thirty-one years, she’d never been kissed with that kind of heat. That much need. It was a little bit scary and a whole lot of overwhelming…but not any more than admitting her body was already itching for it to happen again.
Chapter
Six
Jumping back into work was easier said than done, and this ti
me it had nothing to do with Maddy’s music choice and everything to do with Isabel’s headspace. Particularly involving one infuriating Steele man.
At least Roman had made good on his promise of getting her into the lab, and today’s babysitter of choice was Jaz Curva, former Marine sniper and genuine badass. The two of them had immediately hit it off. Both the operative’s hysterical commentary and her descriptions of everyone involved with Steele Ops kept Isa’s mind off why she was there at all—and why Maddy wasn’t.
Isa didn’t fault her friend one bit for not being ready to step back into the Legion, and while Isa’s stand-in assistant, Mark, did his job, he wasn’t quite as exuberant about it.
“I shouldn’t be much longer. I just need to clean up the workspace and document the results in the computer system,” Isabel said aloud, knowing Jaz heard her from her stool in the clean room. “Maybe you can get boredom pay from your bosses. I’d completely back you up on that.”
Jaz leaned closer to the window, her chin propped up by her hand. “Are you kidding me? This is a night on the red carpet compared to listening to Liam’s tirade about shoddy backdoor tech and uploaded computer viruses.”
Isabel chuckled. “I think that’s the first time I ever heard someone choose real viruses over computer viruses.”
“I like being unexpected.”
Isabel put away the last of the samples and stepped into decontamination. By the time she changed into street clothes and entered the clean room, her temporary assistant already had his bag on his shoulder and his car keys in hand. “You’re all good, Dr. Santiago? Do you need me to stick around for anything?”
“I’m all good, Mark. Thanks for standing in for Maddy.”
“No prob. Take care.” With a brisk wave, the doctoral student hustled over to the Legion elevator and pushed the button not once, but twice, as if it would make it come any faster.
Jaz chuckled. “I don’t think Marines run that fast when it’s New York pizza night in the mess hall. And let me tell you, when it comes to the meat lovers, it’s like the beginning of a post-apocalyptic movie.”
“Mark’s nice, but he’s not Maddy.”
“Is she doing okay?”
“As well as can be expected. I told her to take all the time she needed, but I secretly hope it’s sooner rather than later. Is that horrible of me?”
“Not in the least. Honestly, I’m surprised you were so eager to come back.”
Isa plotted her results in the computer’s tracking program and logged off. “With FC-5 in God only knows whose hands, I can’t afford not to jump right in. I have a job to do.”
Jaz playfully bumped her shoulder. “You almost sounded like a Marine.”
“Nope. Army.”
Jaz’s eyes widened. “Wait. What? Seriously?”
Isa nodded. “Seriously. I was a major by the time I left.”
“Were you ever deployed, or did you stay stateside? Your specialty isn’t exactly conducive to combat medicine.”
“I went to med school and passed all my boards, so theoretically, I could’ve worked in field hospitals, but when it came time for speciality selection, I chose virology. Most of my time was spent in stateside military-run research facilities, but I did do a few tours with Ranger units helping to build clinics in disease-ridden countries.”
Isa held her breath and prayed Jaz didn’t ask too many questions about her career track, because the truth was, she hadn’t set out to study viruses. Like most people who want to become doctors, Isa had wanted to make a difference. She wanted to help people, and after serving her country, had wanted to put her skills to use by working with organizations like Doctors Without Borders.
But the reality and demands of med school had been way too much for her, and her emergency medicine rotation nearly pushed her to the breaking point. Every doctor had that one patient, the one who exposed their weakness and made them question everything they thought they ever knew about themselves or their capabilities.
For Isa, it hadn’t been just one…it had been an entire family: a mother and her two young children, victims of unnecessary gun violence perpetrated by someone who was supposed to care about them. Isa never again wanted to be in the position to tell a young boy that his mother wouldn’t be walking through the door.
“I’m sorry if that’s a touchy subject,” Jaz apologized, interpreting her silence.
“No. No, that’s okay. I just don’t talk about it much.” Or at all.
“You know what we need?” Jaz hooked her arm through Isa’s the second she shut down the computer. “Good company and stiff drinks—and a lot of them. So many I lose the desire to punch Tank in his smug face.”
“Is that possible without getting alcohol poisoning?”
Jaz howled in laughter, making Isa chuckle. “We’re going to be best friends. I can already see it.”
“Do you think Roman’s idea of lying low involves happy hour?”
Jaz snorted. “Screw happy hour. I’m aiming for happy evening…and you let me worry about Ro. I know his kryptonite.”
“Which is what?”
“Not what. Who. And they’re Grace and Zoey, who just so happen to be the good company I was talking about.”
An hour later, tears rolled down Isa’s cheeks as she laughed so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. When she’d first realized Jaz’s girls’ night took them to Iron Bars, she’d been hesitant. But thanks to Jaz, Zoey Wright, and Grace Steele, she hadn’t thought about Roman and his devastating lips all night.
Isa turned to Zoey, a petite blond dynamo who worked crime scene investigation for the DCPD. “So I just want to make sure I got this right. You and your brother, Cade, grew up across the street from the Steeles, and the guys all basically formed their own little fraternity.”
“Sounds about right. I was the pesky little girl who always got in their way.”
“But now you’re with Knox?”
“The oldest Steele brother, and Cade’s best friend.” Zoey smirked from over her beer. “I’d crushed on him forever, but you know how it is with men. It takes them an annoyingly long time to see what’s staring them right in the face.”
“Please, she just finally lost her patience.” Grace bumped into her best friend’s shoulder. “Don’t let this quiet demeanor fool you. Zo’s as tenacious as a drug-sniffing dog who smells a kilo of heroin. Knox didn’t know what hit him.”
“I think the same could be said for my brother.” Zoey smirked.
Grace rolled her eyes. “No, I know what hit him.”
Jaz snorted. “Yeah, your .22-caliber Mag.”
They all laughed, using the moment to clink their drinks together in solidarity.
Isa turned toward Jaz. “Zoey’s with Knox. Grace is with Cade. Are you with someone from the team, too? Or have your eye on someone from the team?”
“Yes,” Grace and Zoey exclaimed emphatically at the same time Jaz adamantly announced, “Fuck no.”
Grace scoffed. “Oh, come on, Jaz. Who do you think you’re fooling?”
“No one.” Jaz folded her arms across her chest. “Because there’s nothing for me to fool people about.”
“Li-ar,” Zoey sang with a smirk. “Grace and I have said that very same line—right before the love bug bit us on the ass.”
“Then maybe you should’ve worn your bug repellent. I slather mine on daily. It’s practically my moisturizer.”
Isa laughed, trying to keep up. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me guess. Tank? He’s the Special Forces guy with the sexy Cajun drawl, right?”
Jaz wrinkled her small nose. “Let’s go easy on the ‘sexy’ adjectives, and absolutely nowhere around him, okay? His head’s already so big, I’m surprised he’s able to fit it through the door. I would much rather talk about Isa’s bug bites.”
Isa, in mid-swallow, choked on her water. “Me? I’m pretty biteless these days. Actually, for a lot of days. Weeks. Months. Honestly? Years.”
Zoey’s eyes twinkled. “So you’re not seeing anyo
ne?”
“Unless you count the petri dishes in my lab? No.” Even though Isa hadn’t known these women long, it felt like they’d been friends forever, so she took a breath and admitted, “I was engaged once. To my childhood sweetheart. Olly.”
The table quickly sobered.
“Was?” Grace asked carefully.
The women let her take her time to pull her thoughts together, and she appreciated it. Olly wasn’t someone she discussed on a daily basis—or, if she was honest with herself, at all. It hurt too much.
That ache that came whenever she thought about him took center stage in her chest. “Oliver was literally the boy next door. He lived on the ranch next to my grandparents’, and we grew up together, eventually becoming a clichéd small-town golden couple. Everyone always assumed that we’d head off to college together and come back to Golden Plains, but we didn’t. Olly followed his dreams right into the Navy and onto the SEAL teams, and I let the US Army pay for my medical training. We spent more time apart after graduation than we did together but we said we’d made it work, and we did…for a while.”
Until suddenly it hadn’t.
Isa still wasn’t sure where they’d gone wrong, or what ignited the fight all those years ago. All she recalled with perfect clarity was ending their video chat with angry words and then getting a phone call from Olly’s best friend a week later.
He was gone, something having gone wrong on a simple escort assignment, something his SEAL team had done countless times before.
The girls must have read her face, because suddenly Zoey was grasping her hand, and Grace was squeezing Isa’s arm.
Jaz, sitting next to her, patted her shoulder before shifting awkwardly in her seat. “That really sucks, Isa. I’m sorry. It’s hard losing someone you care about.”
“It is.” Isa nodded. “And I tried dating sporadically. I’ve just never met anyone who I’d rather spend time with more than my viruses…and hearing that aloud, I realize how pathetic that sounds. But I’m not about to compromise for anything less than what I deserve, which is love, lust, and sparkage.”
