Call to Engage

by Tawny Weber

  After a brief vision of her darling little kitchen going up in flames of protest, she began the frying process. Something she’d avoided for three years of healthy eating. But, she breathed deep, it smelled good.

  She tucked each piece of chicken—one small for her and three large for Elijah—into the oven to rest, humming as she continued with preparations. She’d forgotten how fun it was to cook for someone else. Her humming and enjoyment came to an abrupt halt with the knock at the door.

  Ava froze. She’d been so worried about doing everything just right, she’d lost track of time.

  “No, no, no,” she chanted, letting the oven door slam shut as she hurried to the breakfront for the pretty glass dishes. She set them in place, and, ignoring the next knock, hurried over to her meditation corner for a lighter.

  She froze at the third knock, halfway between the table and the door. Anticipation was one thing. Rudeness was another.

  Ava hurried to the door. “You’re early,” she said in her throatiest voice as she pulled the door open and posed.

  “I am? And I’m obviously underdressed.”

  Ava rolled her eyes.

  “You’re not Elijah.”

  “Talk about stating the obvious,” Chloe said with a laugh, angling her head into the room to look past Ava. “Ohh. Seduction time.”

  Time. Damn. Ava shot a slightly frantic look toward the clock. Leaving the door open, she hurried back into the room to finish setting the scene. Rich purple candles were centered on the table, so she lit those first, then tossed the lighter to Chloe, who’d followed her inside.

  “Since you’re here, why don’t you light the rest?” Ava hurried back to the kitchen to deal with the frying oil, then pulled out flatware to finish setting the table. Two emerald napkins and a bowl of olives and it was ready.

  “Everything looks great.” Finished lighting the bank of candles on the breakfront, Chloe sniffed at the delicate spray of freesia spilling from a delicate vase centered on the table. “Smells great, too. Looks peachy.”

  Peachy? Ava finally slowed enough to give her friend a good look. Her face was clean of makeup, not even a hint of lipstick. She wore a faded black tee that bagged and sagged. Even her dreadlocks seemed to droop.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong? I’m happy as a clam,” Chloe claimed.

  “Nothing says clam happy like kitty cats.” Ava nodded, gesturing to the flannel sleep pants.

  “I’m behind on laundry.” Chloe shrugged. “I’ve been busy. You know, jobs, dogs, bicycles. It’s hard to keep track of everything.”

  Except Chloe was the queen of keeping track of everything.

  “Okay,” Ava murmured. One eye on Chloe as she tried to figure out what was going on, she kept the other on the stove as she toasted slices of buttered garlic bread on a grilling pan, careful to get the grill marks just so.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells good. Is that fried bread? I didn’t think you fried food.”

  “Chunky chimichurri with toast points for a starter, Milanesa Napolitana is the entrée with my mom’s recipe for Berenjena en Escabeche on the side and Tortas Fritas to finish.”

  Ava dipped a spoon in the chimichurri sauce, holding it out for her friend to taste. Then she grinned at Chloe’s confused expression.

  “A twist on chips and salsa, breaded chicken and marinated eggplant, doughnuts for dessert.”

  “Ooh. Mmm, that’s good. I guess you’ve got a major seduction scene planned for tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t say major.”

  “You’re gonna have to have a whole lot of sex to ramp your metabolism high enough to process that many calories, girlfriend.” Chloe took a seat on the couch. “That says major to me.”

  Hot, calorie-burning sex wasn’t major. It was simply pleasure. Trying to ignore the sudden tension biting at her spine, Ava focused on spooning the chimichurri into a vivid polka-dotted turquoise pottery bowl.

  There was nothing wrong with enjoying the best sex she’d ever had with the sexiest man she’d ever known.

  “It’s no big, Chloe. Good times, nothing else. I don’t believe in fairy-tale endings anymore. That keeps my emotions safe, keeps me from being stupid.”

  Didn’t it? Ava’s fingers trembled as she added the toasted bread to a platter of crudités.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure?” Frowning over her shoulder, Ava met Chloe’s concerned gaze.

  “I’m all for hot sex, wild times and going for the gusto. But...” Chloe hesitated. She dropped her gaze to her flannel pants, watching her fingers pleat little kitten faces. One kitten, then two, then she met Ava’s eyes. “You have a history with this guy. A painful history.”

  “That was then. This is now.” She didn’t have to see Chloe’s exaggerated eye roll to know how lame that sounded. “What we had, it was intense. And I never got over it. Maybe part of the reason was because we have to play this out.”

  She crossed over to join Chloe on the couch, setting the tray of appetizers on the low trunk, then curling up to tuck one bare foot underneath her.

  “I need to get over it this time, Chloe. I don’t want to live the rest of my life feeling like there’s something missing.”

  “You think stoking that flame between you until it’s so hot it burns out will fix things?” Looking as serious as a woman in kitty cat jammies could, Chloe snagged a carrot stick and gave it a contemplating stare before pointing it at Ava. “Some people think it’s dangerous to play with fire.”

  “Some people are afraid to play at anything that poses a risk.” She should know. She’d let fear dictate her every choice for years.

  “I saw him today,” Chloe told her as she chose a zucchini wedge. “At the gym. He came in looking a little rough.”

  “Rough?” Ava frowned. Had he strained his leg? She’d thought he was moving fine after their workouts the other day—both public and private, but maybe he’d pulled something? She glanced at the tall, slender chest in the corner. She’d have to choose some manly oils and convince him to lie down for a massage. She’d call it part of the seduction. “Rough in what way?”

  “Kinda bummed out, I guess. He seemed okay when he first came in, but then these guys joined him. Big bruisers. They weren’t members, so Mack had to clear them in.”

  Big guys?

  Worry she’d thought she’d long ago left behind reached up to grip her guts and tie them into greasy knots. Had Elijah been recalled to duty? Was he gone? No. He’d let her know before he left. But how would he stay safe if he was hurt? If he was on duty, he was in danger. What if this time he was killed?

  Her breath racing faster than her panicked thoughts, she wet her lips. “Did you get their names?”

  “Mack called one of them Jersey and the other one Gibbs. They both had anchors tattooed on their shoulder. I figured they were Navy buddies of your ex.”

  Jersey Ambrose and Lonnie Gibbs, Ava realized as the tension ripping through her body eased a little. They’d graduated high school a year ahead of Elijah, and both had joined the Navy. They’d come for dinner a couple of times, but neither had really been part of Elijah’s inner circle. Not like the men in Poseidon.

  “Sounds like a Navy reunion,” she murmured, pretending she didn’t care. But her hands twined together, fisting one over the other until they gripped tight against each other.

  “I suppose.” Chloe shrugged. “Mack said they’d left the Navy. One of them works at the cable company. The other does something with security. From what I overheard, it sounded as if they were going to introduce Elijah to some people.”

  What was going on? Was Elijah recruiting old Navy pals for something? Or was he just missing the excitement and wanted someone to talk to about it?

  Mack had been there. He’d know what they talked about. He
r eyes sliding toward her cell phone, Ava chewed on the inside of her lip.

  “One of them, the one called Jersey, he asked your hottie to come talk to some people at the VA. Is that like a club or something?”

  “The VA?” Ava wished she could laugh, but the memory of the VA, of the hospital, the loss of Dominic, they were all flashing through her mind like a manic slide show. “He probably just wanted Elijah to talk to a veterans group about the glory and wonder of being a SEAL.”

  “So your hottie, he’s like a rock star?”

  “Pretty much,” Ava said with a twist of her lips. She shoved her hand through the loose waves of her hair, wishing she could shove the encroaching waves of depression off as easily.

  Sex, she reminded herself. This was only about sex. Not about whatever Elijah was going through, not about his career and definitely not about their emotional history or anything that had happened in the past.

  “Rock star or not, it’s none of my business.”

  “Aren’t you worried about him? The bummed-out part, I mean.”

  “If I’m sure of anything, it’s that Elijah Prescott can take care of himself.” After all, she’d spent enough years telling herself that. So often that every once in a while, she almost believed it.

  “And you?”

  “Me?” Ava did laugh this time, her misery dimming a little in the face of her friend’s sweet concern. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  Not anymore.

  “Are you sure? I mean, do you think you take care of yourself with this guy? The hottie, I mean. He’s got intense all over him.”

  Didn’t he just. Needing to recapture her earlier mood—and her justification of the choice to play this out with Elijah—Ava leaned closer and, with her most wicked smile, said, “Intense makes for the best sex.”

  Chloe laughed. But the worry didn’t disappear from her eyes. “And if you fall for him again?”

  Ava’s smile faded with the taste of bitterness. Her gaze tracked to the small frame by the door.

  Falling in love required having a heart. Hers was safely buried next to her baby. “I’m in no danger of that. Believe me.” More than ready to change the subject and figuring she’d given Chloe plenty of stalling time, she arched her brow. “So what’s up?”

  “Up?” Chloe bit off the end of another carrot. Chewed. Bit again. Swallowed. Then shrugged. “I heard from Bones.”

  Damn. Ava looked at the clock. Was there enough time to call Elijah and delay their date?

  “It’s no big deal,” Chloe offered, still staring at her carrot. “I mean, yeah, it’s the first time I’ve heard from him since he left last spring. But it’s not like I’ve been sitting by the phone or anything.”

  “I think that phrase has lost something in the age of cell phones,” Ava murmured, gesturing to Chloe’s only concession to technology, her flip phone.

  “Maybe. But I’m fine. I mean, it could be a big deal if I let it, but I won’t.” Shoveling her fingers through her dreads, Chloe took a deep breath. “I’m going to take some time off, though. Go to Guerneville, spend some time with my parents. Think things through, you know.”

  “You’re leaving?” Ava sagged into the couch. She felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut.

  “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine. It’s wrong to make believe that I’m happy.” Chloe lifted both hands high. “My mom called for a drum circle. It’ll be good for me. Some chanting, some meditating. Clarity, you know?”

  No, Ava wanted to shout. She didn’t know. Pretending was good. Make-believe was great. As long as it was working, why give those up to chase clarity? All clarity got you was pain.

  But voicing that might trigger the tears lurking in Chloe’s eyes, so Ava clamped her mouth shut and pushed to her feet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling Elijah to postpone our date.”

  “No.” Chloe dived across the room, grabbing Ava’s arm before she could pick up her phone. “I’m packed and I’ve let all the bosses know. My parents are expecting me before dark. I just wanted to tell you in person.”

  Seeing the pout forming on Ava’s face, Chloe shook her head. “Don’t be bummed, okay. I’m doing exactly what you told me to do so many times. I’m getting on with my life.” The blonde bit her lip before hesitantly adding, “Don’t burn anything down while I’m gone, okay?”

  With that and a tight hug, a vow to keep in touch and a promise that she’d be back before the end of the summer, Chloe departed. Leaving Ava to prepare for her night of seduction and worry about burning her life down. Chloe’s words rang in her head, dimming the lovely sexual buzz she’d basked in earlier. A part of her still wondered if she should cancel.

  Beyond Chloe’s concern, she could hear her mother’s voice in her head. Lectures on ladylike behavior. Reminders that discretion was more important than valor. Chiding, oh the constant chiding, to be safe, to choose the right path, to be careful. Always freaking careful.

  Ava shoved her hands through her hair, tugging a little as if she could pull those words from her head. She hated those words. Hated the paranoid fear that kept her from living beyond the safe little world her parents deemed appropriate. She’d spent years breaking out of that world.

  She’d be damned if she’d sink back into it now.

  She wanted Elijah.

  She wanted to enjoy the moment, without fear, without stressing about what-ifs or worrying about what people thought or what might happen to Elijah.

  She knew he was only home for a few weeks—leave was never longer than that. She was going to enjoy these weeks, fear-free.

  And if there were a price, whatever it was, she’d pay it later.

  With his usual impeccable timing, Elijah knocked on her door. She recognized the rhythm. God, the man had rhythm.

  Three short taps, pause, three more.

  Focus on the rhythm, she told herself as she hurried over to open the door. Focus on the pleasure. Focus on now, dammit.

  It was a lot easier when she saw Elijah standing in her doorway.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” She skipped the husky voice this time and offered a warm smile. “Hungry?”

  “Ava,” he murmured. His smile slipped away as Ava skimmed one hand along her hip, up her waist to cup her breast as if offering him a reason to come inside.

  His eyes locked on her hand, then on her face. Then Elijah moved in. Through the door, he angled his body to trap hers between him and the wall. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, gripping her head, pinning her exactly where he wanted.

  Eyes still watching, his mouth took hers. An intense sweep of his tongue over her lips, demanding entry. Ava gasped. Her body wanted to melt. Her thighs trembled as moisture pooled between them in a hot rush.

  One touch, she thought as his tongue swept between her teeth, teasing and tormenting. All Elijah needed was one touch to give her more pleasure than she could feel with anyone else.

  To hell with fear, Ava decided as she reached up to grasp his head. The feel of his flesh beneath her fingers, his hair teasing her palms, it was so good. Too good to give up for something as lame as fear.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled his mouth from hers and leaned back to stare into her face.

  “Hello.” His smile flashed, slow and sexy. “To answer your question, yes.”

  “What?” She’d asked a question?

  “Yes. I am hungry.”

  Oh. Right. Food. Ava drew a shaky breath, then had to take a couple more because her heart was still racing so fast it sounded like a freight train roaring through her head.

  “Come in,” she said. As she waved her hand in invitation, she wondered if it was warning ringing in her head or just the echoes of Chloe’s nagging.

  * * *

  ELIJAH MOVED
THROUGH Ava’s place, glancing around with a curiosity that he didn’t bother to hide. Cozy, with warmth and a soothing sort of fun, it looked as if a rainbow had settled in to take a nap.

  “I like your place. It suits you,” he stated as he peered through the beaded curtain separating the sleeping area from her living space. The far wall was covered with sheer curtains shielding a blanket of fairy lights that twinkled like stars. His eyes lingered on the bed. Instead of resting on a frame, it hung on fabric-covered chains from the ceiling like an oversize hammock.

  Would it rock, he wondered, in time with their bodies as he drove into her? Would it sway with her sighs as she curled into him in the heady aftermath?

  “Suits me?”

  Elijah shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ease the stiffness between his legs, and turned his back on the tempting image. Only to find an even more tempting image in the form of Ava. The mightiest temptation he’d ever faced.

  Her hair tumbled over bare shoulders and muscled arms. The delicate curve and slender muscles of her body draped in nighttime silk. Her eyes were smoky, her lips wet.

  God, he wanted her. But he didn’t just want her for the night. Not just for sex—as amazing as the sex was.

  He wanted her. Forever.

  “Why do you look surprised?” he asked, staying on topic. “You decorated it, didn’t you? You must have fixed it up to fit your tastes.”

  “It’s very different from...”

  “Our condo?”

  Yeah, it was.

  Images of glass and gilt, overstuffed furniture too formal for comfort filled his head. Even the kitchen had felt like something out of a fancy magazine, with its designer furniture and crystal glassware. Nothing like her little two-burner stove tucked in its bohemian corner.

  “I like this better,” he admitted, settling on the couch. Arms stretched along the low back, he sank into the comfort and nodded. “A lot better.”

  “You do?” Her face creased, she carried a plate of chimichurri and vegetables over to set on the low table in front of them. “Why?”