The Honorable Warrior

by Kimberly Krey

  She chuckled. “Here, say that again while I have you on speaker. Blayze will appreciate hearing that.” She tapped the screen to set it on speaker mode and aimed the small device toward Blayze. “Okay, Papi, say that one more time.”

  “I said… my daughter is in need of a quiet dinner, Mr. Brockton. Could you take her someplace nice tomorrow night? My treat.”

  Sophia’s eyes nearly popped right out of her head. She yanked the phone back, took it off speaker, and brought it to her ear. “You’re rotten,” she scolded. “I’m never trusting you again.”

  Her father chuckled heartily from the other line. “You have to be able to lighten up sometime, my Sophie girl.”

  She risked another look at Blayze while her face beamed with heat. “That’s not what I told him to repeat,” she explained.

  Blayze nodded. “I figured.”

  “Well, now you’ve gone and offended him,” her father grumbled. “Don’t make the man think you’re repulsed by the idea of a nice evening together. You could do a lot worse…”

  Sophia turned her face away from Blayze, rested her forehead against the darkened window. “Stop,” she mumbled.

  “I noticed there’s a full moon out,” he pestered. “You know what your mom always said about kissing in the moonlight…” he chuckled. “All right, all right. I’ll stop for now. Listen, you’re doing a great job. I’m unbelievably proud of you, Sophia. Get some rest.”

  “Sounds good, Papa. You have a nice night too.” She rested her phone into the cup holder and stared at it while replaying the embarrassing conversation once more. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting over to his side of the SUV.

  “What did he say?” Blayze asked. “Originally, I mean.”

  “Oh,” Sophia said, “something about you deserving an extra tip for putting up with my objection to door and luggage help.”

  That earned a smile from him, and Sophia felt the effects of it in the quickened beats of her heart.

  “Sophia,” Blayze said, his face turning serious. “Why don’t you want men to help you with the door or your bags?”

  She bit at her lip for a blink. “It’s not just men—”

  “Yes, it is,” he said. “I’ve watched you accept help from a handful of women over the last four days. Graciously, I might add. So why not allow someone of the opposite sex the same respect?”

  Sophia felt her shoulders deflate. “Because I guess I still have a chip on my shoulder.” She shook her head. “It’s stupid, but I had this group of girls back in middle school tell me I’d have to change if I wanted boys to like me. They were always acting so helpless around them. ‘Oh, I don’t know how to serve this volleyball.’ Or, ‘Do you think you could teach me how to do this problem? I have no idea what I’m doing.’ I thought they were crazy. But sure enough, it worked. The more helpless those girls acted, the more the boys in our school liked them. I was disgusted by it.” She shrugged. “I know it’s stupid, but it affected the way I view men.”

  “Not all men,” he said.

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t view your father that way,” Blayze pointed out.

  “True.”

  He nodded, more invested in the conversation than she’d imagined a man ever being. Blayze wasn’t simply trying to argue or make her feel dumb. He wanted to understand her point of view.

  He cleared his throat. “I was raised that if you don’t help out a lady, you’re not much of a man.”

  “Hmm,” she managed, feeling as if there was more to what he was saying. It might seem silly to hold on to something so small, but she’d clung to this stubborn piece of herself for a long time.

  “So, I’m asking if you could possibly allow me to catch a door for you at random. Or carry one bag while you wrestle with your phone and your papers and the shoes you just removed?”

  Ugh. An image came to mind when—earlier that day— she’d been juggling papers, swag bags, and an espresso, all while the straps of her freshly removed shoes dangled from her fingers. She must’ve looked ridiculous. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll try.”

  Blayze gave her one of his barely discernable nods and set his eyes back to his notepad. But before he could sink back into whatever world he’d created on that page, Sophia had something she wanted to ask.

  “Have you talked with the private investigative team this evening?”

  “I have,” he said. “We’ve been focused on the guest list at the Maraddo Motel, but nothing has jumped out at us yet.”

  Sophia nodded. Neither of them had mentioned it, but they were both very aware that today was the two-week mark. The day she would receive that dreaded, fourth package, if the hostile kept his pace. And yet, according to Roman’s wife, Tiff, no package had been delivered to Sophia’s front porch. Sophia couldn’t help but hope. Hope that maybe it’d all been a cruel joke. Hope that the rest of the campaign could go off without a hitch.

  Roman pulled up to the hotel entrance. All the way up to the room, Sophia could picture what was now their nighttime routine. She’d unwind in front of the television with a drink while Blayze closed himself in his room for the night. No thanks. They’d gotten to know each other better than that; it was time they stopped acting like strangers.

  By the time they stepped into the penthouse, she’d almost worked up the nerve to say so. She stood near the entryway as he locked up. The lights weren’t on yet, but they didn’t need to be. The night sky glowed along the white, stone floors while dots of city lights glistened beyond the glass. Blayze had Sophia wait by the entry while he took a surveillance of the place, including a sweep of the bedrooms, bathrooms, closets and hall. Her eyes drifted to the area in the far corner. A makeshift gym brought up just for Blayze. He’d made good use of it too. While Sophia had slacked off on her own routine, feeling too exhausted to walk even an extra step, Blayze made a point to wake each morning to bench press, arm curl, and run on the treadmill.

  Sophia had tried very hard not to watch him while she went over her notes in the morning, but it was hard not to. He was strong, disciplined, and possibly more physically attractive than any other man she’d known. But there was more to Blayze Brockton than a muscular physique and handsome face.

  “We’re clear,” Blayze said once he was through. Already, he was heading back toward the hall, but Sophia forced herself to speak up.

  “Blayze?”

  He stopped, rocked back on one heel. Light from the hallway poured over one side of his face—a suiting view, since there were still parts of him she had yet to discover. She knew he had a quiet strength. A passionate spirit. And a rare drive that compelled him to put his life on the line for God and country. But what about the side she hadn’t discovered yet?

  “I’m wondering…” she started, “I mean, what do you do to unwind?”

  He tipped his head to one side, seeming to test out the word. “To unwind?” He shrugged. “Read. Usually the newspaper. Sometimes a Sci-Fi.”

  She nodded, rethinking the invite.

  “What do you like to do?” Blayze’s posture softened. He stepped back, slouched against the wall with his eyes set on her.

  She shrugged. “When I’m at a hotel like this, with a hectic schedule, I mean, I like to have a drink and watch a sitcom.”

  Amusement flashed over his face. “A sitcom? I would not have guessed that.”

  “Yeah, well there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Ugh – shut up, Sophia!

  “I’m sure there is.” He gave her a nod before pulling away from the wall once more. He’d made it two steps down the hall when Sophia dared herself to speak up once more. “You could join me. If you’d like.”

  He stopped again, and Sophia’s face went hot with embarrassment. “Unless it’s like, I mean… I wouldn’t want it to feel like you’re still working or something. With me—you’re working. Without me—you’re not. That type of thing…” She was rambling. Why had she spoken up in the first place?

 
; She watched as he stood there, feet facing his room, a jacket casually draped behind his back. A newspaper already in-hand. He glanced at her over his shoulder before turning around completely. “You’re inviting me to join you out here? Right now?” His brow lifted.

  She nodded. “Yes, if you want. We may as well get to know each other better.”

  “Sure,” Blayze said. “Mind if I shower first?”

  “No,” she blurted. “We both will. Can.” She shook her head. “Let’s each have our own shower and then meet back here.”

  His lips pinched around a laugh. “All right.”

  Better be worth it. Whatever this night might bring, it better be worth the humiliation of that moment. Sophia lived a life of composure and poise. Microphones and big crowds were friends to her. TV interviews rarely made her flinch. So why did she have to get tongue-tied over this drop-dead gorgeous, totally intriguing, gentleman-as-far-as-she-could-tell man? Yeah, dumb question.

  “Okay,” she said with a nod. “See you out here in a few minutes.”

  Just what was a guy supposed to do? Blayze couldn’t exactly hurt the woman’s feelings. Besides, hearing Nicolas Vasco suggest that Blayze take his daughter for an evening out—that was all the permission he needed to ease up and get to know Sophia a little better. Sophia might have taken her phone off speaker mode, but that hadn’t stopped him from overhearing the way he’d gone on to say she could do a lot worse. Something about sharing a kiss beneath a full moon. Depending on how things went tonight, maybe he’d do just that.

  Blayze shrugged out of his clothes while the water warmed. It was one of those fancy showerheads that mimicked the fall of a rainstorm. He stepped in, barely ducking beneath the stream when apprehension kicked in. It seemed that for each drop falling, a second thought thumped into him with a vengeance. What are you thinking, dummy? You’re not the woman’s type. Chances were Sophia was simply bored. Wanting a little excitement on the side. For all he knew, she went through men without batting an eye. Well, she’d picked the wrong guy if that’s what she had in mind.

  He snatched a bottle of body wash and sudsed up, working the lather through his hair as well. It was longer than it’d been in a while. His facial hair was too. The thought urged him to scout out a fresh razor and shave his neck.

  A slap of aftershave beneath his jaw, and soon Blayze was shrugging into fresh clothes. A tight ribbed tank top with a pair of loose gym trunks.

  The truth was, it didn’t matter which ways Sophia was or wasn’t interested in him. Blayze had gone long enough without the company of women. It was high time he put himself back out there. He was a grown man, for crying out loud. If a sexy, intelligent, fascinating woman wanted to cuddle up to him—even for just a night—who was he to turn it down?

  Blayze moved to the hallway quickly but slowed as he stepped into the main living area of the penthouse. A quick spin in place said he’d beaten her out there. He dashed over to the fridge, pried it open and peered inside. Empty.

  Hadn’t Sophia said she liked having a drink at night? He glanced across the kitchen to where the phone rested. Beside it stood a binder labeled room service. This is where it got tricky. If he ordered something romantic it would be awkward. He wasn’t one for drinking himself, but Blayze picked up the phone, scanned the menu, and ordered a bottle of dry champagne for her, and a bottle of Pepsi for himself. “Why don’t you bring up a bowl of strawberries too,” he said softly, “and maybe a couple croissants.”

  “We’ll have those items delivered to your room shortly, sir,” the man said.

  “Thank you.” Blayze set the phone back in place and stared at it while he considered what he’d just done. It was probably too forward. Champagne and strawberries—could he get more cliché? Alarms went off in his head. Abort, abort. Maybe he should call back and cancel.

  “Hello, soldier.”

  Soldier? The smooth, low delivery of that line had Blayze’s heart pounding out a soldier’s march. Thump. Thump. Thump-hitch-thump. He spun around, gulped as his eyes settled on the sight of her. “Hi.” The single word came out raspy.

  She wore silk, like the night she’d come in to retrieve her cat. Only this time it wasn’t in the form of a gown, rather, a tank top and matching pair of shorts. Pale blue, contrasting her light brown skin like a dream.

  “Were you on the phone a minute ago?” she asked, running her fingers through the wet strands of her hair. It looked longer than it had the other times he’d seen it down. Darker too, since it was wet.

  “You said you were looking forward to having a drink,” he said. “I noticed there wasn’t anything here, so I ordered a bottle for you.” He cleared his throat.

  Her eyes widened. “For me? Not for you too?”

  “I ordered me a … soda.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. For a moment, it looked like she might stifle it, but she gave in to it instead, tacking a laugh on as well. “You just keep on surprising me, Blayze.” That playful spark danced in her eyes. Like the one he’d seen at the Indian restaurant when she’d teased him about getting a private booth. “Should we have a seat?” She glided toward the array of couches and chairs by the fireplace.

  Blayze shook out his shoulders, realizing he’d been standing like he was back in training, waiting for the general to put him and the others at ease. Sophia had taken a seat on the edge of the couch, so Blayze opted for the same couch, opposite corner, where he rested his elbows on his knees.

  “Did it make you uncomfortable when my father joked about taking me out?” she asked.

  He grinned, wondering if it’d be wrong to lie. “Not really. But it looked like you were squirming.”

  Another laugh. A light, easy sound as she tipped her head back. “I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all. He must like you.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “So, you know all sorts of things about my past relationships,” she said. “But I really don’t know anything about yours. I assume you’re not dating anyone right now.”

  He shook his head. “Nope.” The soldier’s march picked up again.

  “So, who’s the last woman you dated, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  The tables had been reversed, had they? Very well, he could handle this. “Emily—she’s the last woman I dated seriously. She knew when we started dating that I wanted to join the Navy, and that I had my heart set on being a SEAL too, but… I don’t know. Either she didn’t think I’d go through with it, or she wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to send me off.”

  “So, what happened?” Sophia asked, her alluring accent cradling each word.

  “I hadn’t proposed yet, but we’d talked about getting married when I returned. When I officially made it as a SEAL, she came out, congratulated me. We celebrated over dinner even. She’d been off the whole night, you know—quiet and withdrawn. And before the second course was through Emily was in tears, apologizing and saying she couldn’t do it. Said it takes a certain type of woman to stay with a man who served his country. And that she wasn’t the type of woman who could.”

  Sophia studied him, her brown eyes unreadable as she held his gaze. “I imagine it does take a certain type of woman to support a man who puts his life on the line,” she said.

  The moment drew on as Blayze considered whether Sophia was that kind of woman or not.

  That thought was lost when a tap came from the door.

  “Excuse me,” Blayze said, welcoming the interruption. He hadn’t liked having the tables turned on him. If he could hit rewind and say no to Sophia’s invitation, he might. He wasn’t used to being dangled around like this.

  At the entryway, Blayze checked the peephole, then glanced over his shoulder to where Sophia remained seated on the couch. “To be continued,” she said with a smile.

  Heaven help him. How was he going to get through this night?

  Chapter 9

  Sophia considered the new tidbit she’d learned while Blayze greeted the bellboy who’d del
ivered the room service. It seemed her efforts to discover new layers of him were paying off already. Emily… who could blame her? It’d be heart-wrenching to endure nights of waiting and dreading and fearing the worst.

  Yet Sophia knew in her heart she couldn’t walk away from the man she loved, no matter the circumstance. Beyond that, she’d been raised with a deep appreciation for service men and the families who sacrificed the time and safety of their loved ones.

  But it wouldn’t be easy. Not anywhere close.

  She set her eyes back on Blayze. He’d signed for the room service, said goodbye to the bellboy, and was locking up behind him.

  Blayze admitted to ordering a Pepsi for himself but she had no idea he’d been talking about a two-liter. It was huge. And if she were being honest, rather tempting as she considered how long it had been since she’d had a soda. And though she never drank more than a small glass or two, Sophia preferred not to drink alcohol in the company of those who weren’t. No need to tip the scales in their favor, as her father always said.

  He set the tray on the coffee table, revealing a few other items as well. A glass dish filled with bright red strawberries, accented by leaves that glistened in the light.

  “Would you be terribly offended if I save the champagne for another day and join you in a Pepsi toast?” she asked.

  He glanced down at the two-liter. “You’d rather have this?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Blayze shrugged. “All right.” He rested his hand on a copper dome that covered something besides the strawberries. “Bet you can’t guess what’s in this…” he challenged. He was different now. More at ease. This was nice—seeing a new side of him.

  Since they’d eaten just before coming home, she really couldn’t imagine what it might be. “Cheesecake?”

  His shoulders fell. “We had that at the banquet.”

  She laughed. “I know. I give up.”

  Blayze bent into a low bow before lifting his chin a bit. He looked at her severely through his lashes. “I present to you… le croissant.” He’d used a French accent for effect.