Opposite the couch a flat screen television hung on the wall, and beneath it was a waist-high bookcase filled with books, CDs, DVDs, and a unit to play both, along with several interesting pieces of art, bright watercolors of different areas of Charleston, done in a style similar to the one by the door.
Everything was tasteful and reflected her personality. The adjoining kitchen looked like her as well, with red towels, a wine rack, and small pots of herbs under a LED light.
In comparison, his looked like a place to flop for a weekend. He was glad she and his dad hadn’t seen it.
“Nice place, Sloane. It suits you.”
“Thank you. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get us something to drink?” He set his backpack in one of the barstools at the large island separating the kitchen and living room spaces. He unfastened the straps and took out the bouquet. Aside from one of the lilies being a little wilted, the rest were in good shape.
Sloane set two glasses of sweet tea on the island. She unfolded the paper and gently touched one of the rosebuds with the back of a finger. “This is only the third time I’ve been given flowers. My date for my senior prom got me an orchid wrist corsage, my parents gave me a bouquet of sunflowers when I was accepted into law school, and now you’ve given me my first roses.”
“You’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys, Sloane.”
She laughed, then as quickly misted up. “I shouldn’t have been so angry. You were in a horrible situation with your leg and… You were right, I had no idea what being involved with a SEAL was all about.”
Involved. Was that what they were? “You’re the only woman I’m seeing, the only one I thought about every day I was gone. It may have only been six days, but I don’t think you realize what an impression you make. It was hard as hell keeping my mind off you. I don’t know where this may be going, I just know I want more.”
The tension in her expression relaxed. When she nestled in against him, like she had that first night, relief stormed through him. He’d been within a gnat’s ass of being kicked to the curb.
In fact, those few minutes in her office, he thought he had been. It certainly clarified his feelings for her. Finding himself on the verge of again losing something important had a way of doing that.
“After I put these in water, why don’t we both take a nap? Then I’ll fix something for dinner.”
“Or we could go over to my hotel for dinner and wander the halls to check out the art. I only got to see a few pieces before I left to go to your office.” And they would spend the night there if he could persuade her to.
“Are you trying to get me to come with you so you can show me your etchings?”
Connor laughed. “Well, officially they aren’t mine. I can’t even draw a stick man without the help of a computer, but yeah.”
Her tawny gaze snagged on his face, and something in her expression sent blood rushing south. “After you’ve elevated your leg and rested from the trip, we’ll talk about it. I’m going to put my roses in water.”
CHAPTER 18
‡
“How long can you stay?” Sloane asked while they wandered down the corridors to stop and admire the artwork displayed throughout the hotel.
He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
“I have an appointment with the doctor in two weeks, so I’ll have to fly back for that. And I still have some paperwork and other things I need to take care of before I’m discharged. To relocate, I’ll have to make arrangements for all my belongings to be moved. I just have the basics. A couch, a chair, a bed. Nothing fancy. I think I have more fishing and camping gear than I do furniture.”
And he had the mementos of his daughter’s young life that he hadn’t had the courage to look at since her death. Maybe he could now.
Something had changed for him since the night he talked to Sloane about Livy. Sharing memories of his daughter that were so precious, but hard to even think about, had eased the pain. Sloane had laughed and cried and held him.
He didn’t know why he’d been able to open up with her when he hadn’t with Kate. Maybe it was because with Cynthia he’d been afraid of making her pain worse by sharing his. He had the idea that he had to stay strong and suppress his emotions, but in doing so had drawn further and further away from her.
“How’s the leg?” Sloane asked, bringing him back from his thoughts.
“It’s sore, but just walking is helping that.”
“Good. But you don’t need to overdo it.”
They stopped to study one of the paintings done by the resident artist.
He studied the bright reds and blues. “This reminds me of the one in your entrance hall.”
“The paintings at my place are my sister’s work.”
“That’s amazing. She needs to be submitting to get her work in here.”
“She has some in other galleries. I was lucky enough to buy the ones in my apartment from her while she was going to school. Now they’re worth about four times what I paid for them.”
“So you invested in your sister and helped her with school expenses.”
“Yeah. We were raised to work hard and earn our way. But everyone needs a little help now and then.”
He nodded. He glanced up and down the tiled corridor before cuddling her in close. “Will you stay the night with me here? I have a king sized canopy bed.”
“What did your doctor say about carousing with women?”
“He said if it worked, I should use it.”
She laughed. “I doubt that. No hanky-panky until the doctor says it’s okay.”
“I’ll get him to send you an email.”
She shook her head. “Staying at hotels here in Charleston can get expensive, Connor. You can stay with me.”
He fell silent for a moment, searching her face. “I don’t want to take advantage.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you there.” She leaned into him when they started to walk to the next painting. “I have to go home to change for work in the morning. You can check out then.”
*
Later, when they were lying on the bed in the room watching television, Sloane was reminded of their afternoon watching Die Hard and several other movies. She lay on Connor’s left side to keep from touching his right thigh.
Both his legs had red scars too new to have lost their ugly color. The left was healed, the right still scabbed and bearing the evidence of the second surgery, though the stitches had been removed. The swelling she noticed earlier had subsided somewhat. But it still worried her.
She wanted to say, don’t push yourself. But telling this man not to do something was a surefire way to get him to do the complete opposite.
“Tell me about your life in San Diego, Connor. I want to know about you.”
“The guys are like a family, always watching your back…” For half an hour he shared stories of them at home, and of some things he could talk about from deployments.
When he drifted off to sleep, which proved how drained he was physically by the trip, and by his injuries and subsequent illness, she rose and took off the dark blue slacks and silk blouse she changed into for dinner, tossed her bra atop them on one of the nightstands, and put on the T-shirt Connor laid out for her.
She woke at dawn to the brush of Connor’s lips against the back of her neck and a hard heat pressing against her from behind. “You can’t. You need to rest your leg.”
“It’s not my leg that needs attention,” he said, in a gravelly morning voice so sexy it lit a fuse to her own need. His fingers slid down her belly beneath her panties and found her. Her breath stuttered and she parted her legs to give him better access.
She half turned against him and his mouth found hers, his tongue mirroring what his fingers were doing. She made a sound—part plea, part moan—and she covered the hand that was giving her such pleasure as her hips rose and rolled beneath the relentless glide of his fingers against that one sweet spot, the hot heat of
his erection rubbing against her hip. The orgasm rolled through her, leaving her gasping. He slowly removed his hand, leaving her aching and empty.
She stripped off her panties while he covered himself with a condom. Careful of his leg, she straddled his hips and took him in. Already sensitive from the earlier climax, she shuddered with pleasure as he filled her.
He was so swollen with need, every move she made threatened to tip her over the edge again. As she rose and lowered herself over him, she reached behind her and cupped his balls. They swelled and tighten in her hand. At the first pulse of his release, her control spindled away, and sweet pleasure found her again.
She had never known a passion like this. It was so all-consuming it was almost frightening. She leaned down to press her lips to his. The early morning sun brushed his features with soft light, and she paused just to take him in while tenderness nearly overwhelmed her. She could love him if he’d let her.
He reached up to smooth her hair back and draw her lips to his again. She scooted to the side when he slipped away to deal with the condom, then came back. When he turned to spoon in against her back and nestle her against him, she tucked his hand up beneath her cheek. He kissed the back of her neck again.
“I missed you,” he murmured against her ear.
CHAPTER 19
‡
There was nothing like morning sex to perk a lady up. And Connor was really good at morning sex. In fact, she was learning he enjoyed it almost as much as he did evening sex. They’d fallen into a routine of morning sex and him fixing breakfast while she showered and got ready for work.
He didn’t lie about the house doing nothing. He’d been walking every day to strengthen his leg and keep the swelling down. And he worked at his computer on the drone plans, as well as doing more of the paperwork needed for his separation from the Navy. They met for lunch downtown for an hour, and then it was back to work for her.
Bernie rose and followed her into her office. “Look who’s come in looking like the cat who ate the canary for the fourth day this week. You’re not wearing that poor, injured man out, are you?”
“SEALs never give up. That’s what Connor told me.”
“Obviously even when they’re injured, they rise to the occasion.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” She fanned her face.
“When you left here that first day, I thought you were going to send him packing.”
“I was hurt. He’d been back in the country for fifteen days and didn’t call. And I’d been heartsick and worried about him the whole time. Turns out his leg injury was very bad, and he had an infection. There was a chance at first that he might lose his leg. I know I was being emotional and petty, and after I calmed down, I apologized. He said he didn’t call because he didn’t want to dump all that on me.”
“He’s used to protecting his country and keeping quiet about it, Sloane. It would be his first instinct to try and protect you. Since you’d only known each other for a few days, he might have thought it was too soon to involve you in something so serious.”
“I know. I know everything’s moved fast.”
“Your open heart is what makes people love you so easily, Sloane.”
It hadn’t happened with Reed. But maybe it would with Connor?
He was trying to open up to her. Trying not to hold back.
She’d even suggested inviting his father to come have dinner with them one night before Connor had to fly out. He was open to it, they just hadn’t chosen the date.
She refused to look at Bernie for fear of what her friend might read in her expression. “I thought we’d knock out those letters I need to write for Sylvia Fulton first and get that off our plate.”
She worked steadily for nearly three hours, until nausea crept up on her and a cold sweat broke out down the back of her neck and seemed to spread to the rest of her body. She bolted from her desk to the bathroom, the urge to heave too strong to fight. Acid burned her throat as it came up in a rush. She didn’t realize Bernie was standing over her until she lifted her hair back off her neck and put a cool compress there.
After a few more unproductive heaves, the sickness began to recede. She staggered to her feet to rinse her mouth and blot the sweat from her brow.
Bernie flushed the toilet. “Is it something you ate?”
“I don’t know. I was a little nauseous this morning, but it passed.”
Bernie’s dark brows were twisted in a worried frown. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been sick this week, Sloane. You said the soup you ate on Monday made you sick.”
“It was a little greasy.”
“Tell me you haven’t had unprotected sex.”
“No.” But she had. “Well, only once. But you know my history, Bernie. I can’t be pregnant.”
“That’s what I said the last time, too. Even Paul kept saying it all the way to the drug store to get the test.”
“The doctor said I couldn’t conceive without medical intervention. My fallopian tubes are too scarred and my cycle too irregular for it to happen. It isn’t unusual for me to skip periods or have painful ones.”
“How long has it been since you’ve had a period?”
“Since a week or more before our trip to Hilton Head.” Her heart pounded in her ears.
“If tab A fits into slot B and swimmers are ejected, you can be pregnant.”
Sloane would have laughed had the subject not been so painful. “I do know how it works. It would be a million-to-one chance if it happened the natural way. A miracle.”
She couldn’t be pregnant. She wasn’t. It would be finger of God stuff.
“Hey, your guy’s mister super-swimmer. Maybe his swimmers are too.” Bernie smiled at her and smoothed back her hair like she would one of her children. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to hit a drug store to get a test. Just in case. I can go out and get one for you now, and you’ll know for certain. Because of all your issues, you’ll want to know right away.”
Her face felt a little numb. Was she going into shock?
“I think I need to sit down.”
“I think you need to lie down. You look a little white.” Bernie urged her to the small couch just beneath the window. “Just rest until I get back. I’ll drive down to CVS. It’s the closest drugstore.”
She went into the bathroom, returned with a cold compress, and laid it across Sloane’s forehead. “But first I’ll fix you a cup of hot tea and bring you some crackers. They should help settle your stomach.”
“Thank you, Bernie.”
Bernie’s rushed exit left the room entirely too quiet. Disjointed thoughts tumbled through Sloane’s mind. How would she handle this? How would Connor? He’d lost a child. Though it had been six years, he might not be ready to risk his heart on another. He carried around so much pain. The way he talked about his Livy… Everything was moving too fast.
Maybe it wasn’t so. Maybe it was just a bug.
Bernie brought the tea and crackers, then left again with her purse over her shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later the door opened, and she turned to see who had come in without knocking.
Reed stood over her, his expression shuttered. “Hung over?”
“No. I think I have a stomach bug. If I were you, I’d keep my distance. I might throw up on you.”
Uneasy with her vulnerable position, she sat up, and her stomach pitched. She placed a hand against it. Once it settled she asked, “What do you want, Reed?”
“I want your woman scorned routine to end, Sloane.”
She studied him for a moment and released her breath on an exhausted sigh. “It’s been a year and a half, Reed. I was hurt for a while, but then I realized you’d done me a favor by dumping me. I’ve moved on. I have someone else in my life. So there is no ‘woman scorned routine.’” Get over yourself, asshole.
His jaw flexed and his hands knotted into fists. A chill rushed up her spine. This aggression from him frightened her.
Sloane reached for th
e cup of tea with a trembling hand and took a sip. “I think I’m feeling well enough to go back to work.” She took the teacup with her in case she needed to use it as a weapon, giving him a wide berth as she moved past him and went to her desk. She felt safer with the barrier between them. But not safe enough to sit down.
“I want to be able to work with you without this coldness between us.” Meaning he wanted her to share her clients with him.
She cut to the chase. “Get out and network and find your own clients.”
His frustration was palpable. “You’re just doing this because of what happened between us.”
“I’m doing this because I have a duty to protect my clients’ interests. As long as I’m physically able to serve them, I’m the only lawyer they need. Mr. Johnson worked extensively with me this past year on the trial, and I got the impression he was going to do the same with you for a while.”
“Was it your idea?”
She shook her head. “Do you really think I’d have that much influence with him? Especially since I brought a lawsuit against the firm?” Because of you. She took another sip of the tea. “I suggest you work to expand your client base if you want him off your back. If you’re busy with your own clients he won’t have any reason to look over your shoulder. Send out some letters to local businesses. Pass your card out every opportunity you get.”
A tap came at the door, and Bernie shoved it open, a bag in her hand. On seeing Reed, her features stiffened into a polite mask. “Can I do something for you, Mr. Alexander?”
“No.” Reed turned and stalked out of the room.
“You have to tell Mr. Johnson he’s harassing you, Sloane.”
“This is only the second time he’s spoken to me.”
“There’s something more there when he looks at you. He isn’t right. There’s a kind of desperation about him.”
Hot SEAL, Rusty Nail (SEALs In Paradise ) Page 15
