by Lori Wilde
“East Coast vibe, huh? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, you seem…” She paused. “Formal.”
An eyebrow shot up on his forehead. “You can tell all that about me in five minutes?”
“My mom moved around a lot when I was a kid. I’ve lived in thirty-three states.”
“Really? I…” He seemed like he was about to say something else, but then he just stopped, as if monitoring himself. “That’s interesting.”
“That’s East Coast, too.”
“What is?”
“Holding back until you get to know someone.”
“Maybe my holding back has nothing to do with the fact that I’m from the East Coast. Maybe it’s just my personality and I would be just as withholding if I’d grown up in Southern Cal.”
“Could be,” she agreed. “It’s probably something of a stereotype, anyway, that West Coast people are initially a lot friendlier, but you never get to see behind their masks whereas East Coast folks might be more standoffish at first, but once they accept you, you’re like family.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I suppose I have,” she mused.
“What about Southerners?”
“They’ll kill you with kindness. Watch out when they bless your little heart.”
“And Texans?”
“They’re a whole breed apart,” she said, and then grinned. “I was born there.”
“Ah, so you chose to become a California girl.”
“What can I say? I love the fair weather.”
He hummed a line from a Beach Boys’ song about California girls. That was unexpected, too. He didn’t seem the kind of guy to spontaneously burst into song. Intrigued, her gaze strayed to the ring finger of his left hand.
Bare.
She struggled not to grin. A bare ring finger didn’t mean anything. He could still be married or in a committed relationship. He could be a flirtatious playboy after as many notches on his bedpost as he could collect. But that wasn’t the read she was getting on him. Then again she wasn’t exactly a great judge of character— Keith a case in point. Eva jumped too easily into relationships and she knew it. Even her baby sister knew it. She’d taken after Angie in that respect.
“You’re starting to get a little pink.” He waved at her shoulder. “Just above your collarbone.”
“Oh.” She touched her shoulder. It did feel a bit hot and achy. “I must have missed a spot with the sun-block.”
The bottle of sunscreen lay on the chaise with her cover-up. He went for it. “Float on over here and I’ll rub you down.”
Suggestive words if she’d ever heard them, but he delivered them with such a straight face she couldn’t decide if he was playing coy or not.
Did she dare?
Before she could make up her mind, he snagged one end of her float with the toe of his sneaker and trolled her toward him.
His eyes met her. They were an amazing shade of earthy-brown—the color of autumn, a season that didn’t exist in San Diego. It made her think of warm wooly sweaters and football games and fall festivals and bonfires all hot and crackly.
Her stomach fluttered.
Stop it.
“Here we are.” His low, deep tone feathered over her ears, raised the hairs on the nape of her neck. He was so close.
Too close.
Intimate.
She breathed faster, anticipating his touch. The bottle of sunscreen made a soft whooshing noise as he squeezed out a ribbon of milky white lotion and the aroma of fresh coconut scented the air.
“Lean forward,” he instructed.
Compelled, she leaned forward, positioning her shoulder closer to him, and pulled her hair back off her neck. Why was she obeying him? She was annoyed with herself but she just kept sitting there with her torso cocked forward, giving him access to her back.
His hand slipped over her shoulder, the cool balm soothing her heated skin. His breath caressed the top of her ear. Her muscles tensed at his touch.
“How’s that?” he murmured, massaging in the cream.
“Mmm.” She meant to say, “Mmm, that’s enough.” But after the mmm, the rest of the words stuck in her throat and the mmm just hung there sounding all sexy and encouraging when she hadn’t meant it that way at all.
His broad fingers spread out over her shoulder. The watch at his wrist ticked softly. He smelled crisp and clean, like fresh cucumbers and spray starch. Her float bobbled on the water.
The whole thing felt like some weird, languid dream. Had she fallen asleep on the float and conjured him up in her slumbering mind? Why else was she allowing a stranger to stroke sunscreen across her shoulders?
Annoyed with herself, she put a hand on the cement lip of the pool and pushed away from the edge. “Thanks,” she said, feeling breathless and out of sorts. “You saved me from a sunburn.”
“Happy to help.” He straightened and wiped his palms together, massaging the remaining lotion into his hands.
She chanced a glance at him. He looked as rattled as she felt and she had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t the kind of guy who normally went around offering to lather up strange women. So why her? Why now?
“Well…” he said.
“Well,” she echoed.
He leaned down, picked up the trash bag. “See you around.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
He walked away and Eva let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding. Adam. Hmm. Adam and Eva. She couldn’t pair up with this guy if she wanted to. Their names were just too cutesy together.
Pair up? Are you nuts? Here you go again, closing your eyes and jumping into quicksand with both feet. Snap out of it.
Snap. She was snapping out of it. No more fantasies about…
Adam walked past her again on his way back from the Dumpster. Her thoughts trailed off and she cocked her head to get a better look at his backside. Hard, defined, the perfect size. Yum!
He strode with military bearing, straight-backed, stiff-legged and confident. His stride proclaimed that he was accustomed to being in charge. She sensed something more. He was alert, intelligent, the kind of reserved yet responsible man that a woman could trust. A shiver passed through her. Was he Navy? She had a few Navy guys take her yoga classes. They usually showed up because someone had told them they had trouble letting down their guard and relaxing and had suggested yoga.
“Hey,” she called out.
He stopped, turned in her direction. “Yes?”
“If you ever want to loosen up, I teach yoga at a studio just down the street. First class is free.”
“Loosen up?”
Why had she said that? Why was she inviting him to her yoga class? What in the hell was she thinking? Adam and Eva.
Oh, God, stop it.
He stalked back toward her, his brown eyes murky and unreadable and at the same time incredibly magnetic. “Do I look like I need to loosen up?”
“Um…no, no,” she lied as goose bumps spread over her body. Goose bumps. The guy was giving her goose bumps.
Remember Keith? He was good-looking and made you go all goose-bumpy the first time you saw him. That didn’t last long.
“I’m just trying to drum up business,” she said.
A spark of amusement flared in his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll just take you up on your offer and come learn Downward-Facing Dog.”
Then he walked off leaving her with the delightful image of Adam Mancuso with his scrumptious butt in the air.
Eva lowered her lashes. Hmm. With him moving in next door and her determination to lay off casual affairs, it was shaping up to be one very long hot summer.
ADAM TOOK THE STEPS UP TO his apartment two at a time, his thoughts centered squarely on the woman in the pool.
An intriguing woman who—from the minute he’d seen her doing naked yoga—had intrigued him in a way no woman ever had. But it wasn’t just her kick-butt body that aroused him. It was something abo
ut the combination of her easy-breezy attitude and her sharp intelligent blue eyes that turned him inside out. Eva St. George was a woman of substance and that unexpected realization made him want to know more. How had such a smart woman gotten mixed up with Barksdale?
He shouldn’t have engaged her in conversation and he knew Rogers was going to bust his balls about it. He’d used taking out the trash as a ruse to get a closer look. He hadn’t meant to say anything to her, much less rub her shoulders.
And dammit, he’d stared straight at her tits like a caveman. They’d perched ripe as summer peaches in the sling of her bikini top and her smooth, flat stomach…well, hell!
Her long legs had been bent at the knees, drawn up slightly on the float. He’d been trained to observe everything so he didn’t miss the pearly pink nail polish on her toes or the gold ankle bracelet or the double diamond studs gracing her earlobes. Her golden-blond hair floating around pink shoulders in need of sunscreen…
Ah, those shoulders. His palms still tingled from touching her and he could smell her coconut-scented sunscreen on his skin.
Face it. She’d entranced him. Eyes the color of the Pacific Ocean. Lush, feminine thighs built for loving.
Tanned skin and full, glossy lips that he somehow knew would taste like plump California strawberries.
He shouldn’t have been lusting after her. It was wrong. It put his job in jeopardy. It worried Adam that he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He’d flirted with her, taken advantage of the situation, used potential sunburn as an excuse to touch her.
“What the hell was that all about?” Rogers launched in the minute the door closed behind Adam. “We’re not supposed to engage the target. Merely observe and report.”
“We’ve been doing that for four days and we’ve gotten nothing,” Adam hedged, scrambling to think of a good reason why he’d stopped to talk to Eva.
Rogers stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “Since when have you not followed the rules to the letter?”
Adam frowned. “I want Barksdale caught, and sitting here on our hands doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. If I get to know her, maybe I can get her to talk about Barksdale and I can find out something NCIS didn’t when they interrogated her.”
“Hey, I agree with you. I’ve just never known you to take matters into your own hands. Why do you think they call you Kiss Ass Mancuso?”
“Who calls me that?” Adam asked sharply.
“Everyone.” Rogers wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t know?”
Irritation had him shoving his palm over his head. “Just because I believe in obeying orders doesn’t mean I’m a kiss ass.”
“You’re a workaholic.”
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”
“You never let your guard down with the guys. Even the few times you have gone out for drinks with us, you barely drink and you leave as soon as you can.”
“I am a naval intelligence officer. We’re held to a higher code. I don’t intend giving my enemies anything they can use against me.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t relax once in a while, chief. Act like one of the guys.”
That had been Kirsten’s complaint, as well. That he was too compulsive about work and didn’t know how to enjoy himself. Were Kirsten and Rogers right? Honestly, having free time on his hands made him anxious. The truth was, he feared that if he ever dropped his vigilance that the floodgates would open and he’d lose all control.
“That’s why I think it’s kinda cool that you’re ready to bend a few rules in order to nail Barksdale.”
Adam hadn’t said that. In fact, he hadn’t meant to bend rules. It had happened because he’d simply been unable to help himself and that scared the shit out of him. Eva St. George scared the shit out of him. He wanted to have sex with her and the promise of that pleasure lured him and that lure made him feel unbalanced. He’d given into temptation.
“You know,” Rogers said, “if you wanted to hang out at her yoga studio in the evenings, I could keep watch on the apartment while you’re gone. You could cozy up to her. See if you could get her to talk about Barksdale.”
Adam shook his head. “The brass wouldn’t approve.”
Rogers sank his hands on his hips. “How would they know?”
“They’ve got Kilgore taking yoga with Barksdale’s suspected contact.”
“That’s a morning class. You can take an evening class.”
It was tempting. Not just the part about catching Barksdale himself, but about spending time with Eva.
Watch it, you’re on shaky ground.
Temptation could ruin a man. He trusted Rogers as much as he trusted anyone, but Adam had a hard time putting his fate in someone else’s hands.
“Nah,” he said. “Let’s play this by the book.”
Rogers shrugged. “Your call.”
Adam glanced out the window and saw Eva climbing from the pool, her body glistening in the sunlight. His own body reacted. His dick hardened and his heart rate quickened. He was in trouble and he knew it. He’d never felt this out of control. One thing was for certain he was not going to her yoga studio.
No matter how much he might want to.
4
IT WAS 5:30 A.M. THE FOLLOWING morning and Adam’s shift was almost over. He yawned, stretched, dreamed of hitting the shower, and then getting some sleep as soon as Rogers woke up to relieve him. He wasn’t really paying much attention to what was going on across the courtyard. Eva had been quiet. No midnight yoga. No striptease in front of the window. All in all a pretty boring night.
He yawned again. Blinked.
The door to Eva’s apartment opened and she stepped out onto the landing, wearing a thin terry cloth bathrobe that hit her midthigh. The pockets of the robe bulged out.
Hmm, where was she going in her bathrobe at five-thirty in the morning? And what did she have in her pockets? Immediately, he perked up and his mind went to the darkest possibility. Was she packing a gun?
Come on, how likely was that?
Still, he was on red alert, adrenaline humming through his bloodstream.
It wasn’t just her looks or her smoking-hot body that stirred him. The attraction he felt for her—and this was worrisome—extended far beyond the physical. She was funny and witty and spirited. All the things he was not and he admired her for it. The woman was high-energy, high-octane, high-stakes and these oddly respectful feelings he felt for her presented a problem.
She started down the stairs. Adam tracked her with the telescope, watched her cross the courtyard and head toward the walkway leading to his side of the complex. She disappeared from his view. What was she up to? He tensed, got up from the stool.
Footsteps sounded on his staircase.
She was coming to his apartment!
Panic seized him and he wondered why in the hell he was panicking.
Because she was coming to see him!
He couldn’t let her get a peek inside. Not with all the surveillance equipment aimed at her apartment.
Shit! He pulled a hand down his face. What was he going to do? He could pretend he wasn’t here but it was five-thirty in the morning and the Nissan Maxima Higgins had given him to use while he was on assignment was in his parking space and—
Her knock sounded at his door.
Maybe he ought to answer it. What if she was in trouble? What if Barksdale had threatened her?
She knocked again.
Adam rushed to the door, but only opened it a crack. He peered out at her with one eye. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry to wake you up—”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He opened the door just wide enough to slip out onto the landing with her.
Dew dampened the air. The sun nudged at the horizon. The complex lay quiet. Normally, he got up at 5:00 a.m. to go for his daily three-mile jog, but ever since he’d been spying on Eva, everything in his world had turned topsy-turvy.
She stared at his rumpled clothes, h
is beard stubble, and then glanced at the door. “Oh, my gosh, you’ve got an overnight visitor. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Go back to your guest.”
Eva turned to scurry away, but Adam reached out to snag her arm. The minute he touched her, he regretted it. Hot desire instantly flooded his system. “Hang on, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, really,” she said. “I don’t want to take you away from your company.”
“Who says I have company?”
“You didn’t invite me in for one thing.” She cast a roving glance over him. “And you look like you’ve been up all night.”
“I don’t have a woman in my apartment.”
“Oh, okay, if that’s the way you want to play it.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
Her cheeks pinkened, telling him that yeah, she was and she wished she wasn’t. He felt flattered.
“No, of course not. I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? I don’t even know you.”
“And yet here you are on my landing at five-thirty in the morning in your bathrobe.” Okay, he was officially acting like an arrogant ass, but it was only because she smelled so good and she was wearing a bathrobe and his surveillance equipment was only a door away and she was jealous and well, hell, she just made him nervous and he really didn’t know what to say to her so he said something utterly stupid.
“Forget it.” She held up both palms, backed off.
“That was a jerky thing to say.”
“It was.”
“I’m not usually a jerk.”
“I’ll reserve judgment until I know you better.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me a second chance?”
“Only because you’re so cute when you grovel. Apology accepted.”
He wouldn’t call it groveling, but he did need to find out why she’d come over. “Seriously, what can I do for you?”
Her gaze flicked downward, just for a microsecond, but she checked out his zipper. Had she seen that he was halfway hard already? He did his best to get himself under control, but it was a losing battle with her standing there smelling of fabric softener and peppermint toothpaste, the encroaching dawn casting orange fingers of light over her golden hair.
She cocked her head, touched her bottom lip with the tip of her index finger. “The hot water heater went out in my apartment and I was wondering if I might borrow your shower.”
