Stand & Deliver

by Rhenna Morgan

  Her gaze locked with his in the mirror and, for a second, his gut dropped with the certainty she was going to grab the excuse and run with it. Instead, she hit the kill switch, braced her feet on either side of the belt and snatched her towel off the machine. “No, I’m good. Actually, the run helped more than I’d thought it would.”

  Wiping her face and the back of her neck, she jumped off the machine and strolled toward him. The concentration in her expression and the way she marked him toeing off his shoes and the room she had to work with on the mat further proved she was already in the game. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Get you as close as possible and hear the truth without tequila’s guiding hand.

  Not that he’d ever admit that particular motive. He shrugged, turned his back to her and peeled off his shirt, leaving him in just his Haven tags and loose black track pants. “Well, considering hell’s gonna freeze over before I’ll ever be able to throw a straight punch at you, I thought we’d stick to jiujitsu and whatever self-defense you want to add in. That work for you?”

  He tossed his tags on top of his shirt, the muted jingle as they hit the ground the only answer he got. “G?” Twisting enough for eye contact, he found her full attention locked on his bare torso.

  Well, now. If that wasn’t a fine segue into the evening’s agenda. “You good with that plan?” he prodded again. And damned if his body didn’t get in on the action, pride and a whole lot of hope pushing his shoulders back as he ambled toward her.

  She shook her head and got to work on her own shoes, the way she yanked her laces promising a whole lot of pent-up aggression he was looking forward to having aimed at him in short order. “Rules?”

  “Do we need them?”

  Her head snapped toward him and she kicked her last shoe aside. “I don’t know? Do we?”

  Fuck no. In fact, once he confirmed she was really into him, she was in for some serious no-holds-barred attention. “Not on my account.”

  She jerked a terse nod and proceeded to shuck her tank, leaving her in only a sport bra and her leggings. “Good.” She flung the shirt aside with a bravado that made his dick want to get in the action. She braced her hands on her hips and pushed her shoulders back to mimic his, putting her beautiful tits on prime display. “Then let’s do this.”

  Oh, yeah. This was gonna be hell and a dream come true all rolled up into one. He stepped on the mat, blood pumping on a surge that had zero to do with cardio and everything to do with the woman across from him. “Ready when you are, gorgeous.”

  She rolled her eyes and stomped onto the mat. “Stop calling me that.”

  “Why? It’s true.” The banter was the same routine they’d shared since day one, and he’d always been sincere when he’d used the endearment, but he’d never pushed things further. Not like he was going to today.

  Circling closer, he bent his knees a fraction, intentionally telegraphing a potential strike. “So, the job in Houston...what’s that about?”

  “Corporate exec traveling to San Diego and taking the whole family.” She mirrored his move and shifted in the opposite direction. Like Beckett, Gia was a private agent and booked her own gigs. But unlike him, she was a one-man—or one-woman—shop and had to contract out with other peers when the jobs she secured called for it.

  “Any real threats, or just an ego to protect?”

  Gia grinned, but her focus never wavered. “Probably warranted this time. The company just went through some massive layoffs. News they’re wining and dining customers at a weeklong out-of-town event isn’t making those impacted feel warm and fuzzy.”

  Before he could volley back another question, she struck, aiming a shoulder low and to one side for a flip.

  He dodged it, but just barely. A fact she well knew by her sly grin. “Fast little thing, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Ignoring the husky edge to her response was impossible. More like a spur to his flanks urging him to move faster. “You guarding the whole family or partnering with someone?”

  The frown that moved across her face was quick, but marked. Enough to draw him off center and put all his senses on high alert. “Had to partner up.”

  “With who?”

  Her gaze lasered in on his rather than watching his overall stance for all of a second. “Judd.” Before he could even process the answer, she shot forward and tried to swipe his feet out from under him.

  It didn’t work. Not even by a long shot. He countered on pure instinct, years of training and the mention of Judd’s name pushing him to full offensive mode.

  But Gia met him move for move, never giving up until he’d navigated her off the mat. She straightened and braced her hands on her hips. “You know, for a big guy you move quick.”

  “Only when I’m fighting.” He backed up to his side of the mat and motioned her forward, but punctuated the rest of his words with a purposeful head-to-toe appraisal. “The rest of the time, you can bet I’ll take my sweet time.”

  One second. One tiny spark of desire behind her dark eyes and a small softening in her stance was all he got in the way of confirmation he’d hit a mark. Not nearly as much as he wanted, but it was a start.

  Back on the mat, she made a show of taking her time to reengage.

  Fortunately for him, he’d watched her use that ploy a time or two with other people and anticipated the rapid-fire attack that came at him with little warning.

  He fended off each approach, intentionally staying on defense. When she finally stepped back to catch her breath, he dug in deeper. “How’d you end up partnered with Judd? Thought you didn’t like working teams with him.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. The family’s agenda was too spread out, and I needed a second body for the job.”

  He straightened just enough to make her think he was disengaging from their bout. “You could’ve called me.”

  Surprisingly, she bought the ploy and straightened as well. “You hate family gigs.”

  The opening was exactly the one he’d waited for, and before she could so much as draw in a shocked breath, he had her pinned on her belly, his body firmly blanketing hers. “Yeah, but I like you.”

  She dropped her forehead to the mat and grunted, tapping out with open disgust she’d been sucked into the ploy. “You get that point. Now, get off me, you damned brute.”

  Logic said he should back the hell off and keep things light a little while longer, but after a night of holding her and a day full of making plans to make it happen again, common sense wasn’t in high supply. Not to mention, the lingering thought of Judd spending time with her for a weeklong gig had him itching to leave an indelible mark.

  He gave her just a fraction more of his weight, his hips perfectly pressed to her sweet ass. He dipped his head, teased his lips across the bared skin just behind her ear and murmured, “Make me.”

  She snapped her head around and pressed her arms with all she had against the mat, but the breathiness from this morning was back. So was the wide-eyed hunger in her dark gaze. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You said no rules.” He grinned even knowing it was going to piss her off more than he already had. “Beautiful woman like you? Just consider it good practice for real life.”

  She rolled.

  He countered.

  She bucked, twisted enough to wedge her knees underneath him and put a surprising amount of muscles into dislodging him.

  He went with it, using her momentum to drop to his back and pulling her with him. From there, all it took was one quick flip and she was pinned to her back beneath him, his hips perfectly cradled between her thighs. “Much better.”

  She tried to jerk her wrists free of his hands anchored on either side of her head and scowled up at him. “Okay, you proved your point. You’ve got size and weight on me. Kind of hard to tap out if you’re being a dick abou
t it.”

  Harsh words, but as sweet as her body felt next to his and her crisp ocean scent filling his lungs, she could have lashed him with the harshest words on the planet and he’d have taken it. Happily.

  “Swear to you, gorgeous. I’m not being a dick.” Keeping enough pressure she couldn’t slip free, he slid his hands up to her palms and laced his fingers with hers. More than anything he wanted to pull back and savor the look of her beneath him. To let his gaze take its fill and imagine them in his bed without anything but skin between them. Instead, he forced his attention from her full, raspberry-colored lips to her soulful dark eyes. “Maybe a conniving and opportunistic ass, but I promise you, I’ve got a reason.”

  The anger in her expression shifted, more of a wariness aimed up at him than a furious woman ready to maim if not kill. “What reason?”

  He lowered his head, holding her gaze as he did. “I wanted to know the truth.” Tempting as it was to take her mouth, he teased his lips along her jawline. “I figured the only way I was gonna get it in less than twelve months was to fight dirty.”

  She drew in a shaky breath and, thank Jesus, she shifted her head just enough to leave the sweet curve of her neck exposed. Even her grip shifted, the contact more of a desperate hold than an effort to push him away. “What truth?”

  He froze, her pulse point pounding beneath his lips and her body pliant. He could kiss her. Claim her mouth and pray it was enough to bridge where he wanted to go. To take her off the inquisitive path long enough for him to build ground to work with.

  But this was Gia. A woman he not only appreciated physically, but respected the hell out of professionally and intellectually. She might not have said as much with words, but she’d given him enough clues to solidify last night hadn’t been a fluke. Now it was time for him to man up and give them what they both wanted.

  He lifted his head, meeting her wide gaze head-on. “Who did you want to go home with last night?”

  Shock.

  Fear.

  Realization.

  All three moved across her features as undoubtedly fuzzy pieces from the night before got crystal clear. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Gia. Give me the truth. If I’d opened the door to something between us last night—or any other night the last three years—would you have walked through it?”

  That tough-as-nails defensive mask she always used against the men who gave her shit slammed into place. “I don’t know what—”

  “I said no bullshit. Not with me. Not between the two of us. Not ever again.” Giving her any physical leverage was a hellacious risk with the amount of fire burning behind her eyes, but with the subtle tremors moving through her body he had to give her something. Needed to show her she was safe with him. He released one of her hands and cupped the side of her face. “You told me last night I was the one you wanted. Now I want to hear it without the liquid courage.”

  Sure enough, she gripped his shoulder, but rather than push him away, she squeezed as if she couldn’t quite decide what to do. “I was drunk.”

  “And we’re both stone-cold sober now, so remember that when I tell you...” He traced her lower lip with his thumb, her warm breath moving across his skin in short, shallow puffs. “I want the same thing. Always have.”

  One heartbeat.

  Then another.

  “No, you don’t. You never even—”

  “Saw you?” He slid his hand to the back of her head, her ponytail a thick silk rope against his forearm. “Gorgeous, I’ve watched you from the very first day.”

  “No, you haven’t. Every other woman in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area maybe, but not me.”

  One twist and he fisted her ponytail, effectively stealing the breath from her last word and angling her head for full access to her neck. If she wanted to argue, he’d meet her verbal attack punch for punch, but he had a hunch he’d finish the match more with actions than anything else. He kissed the spot where her shoulder met her neck. “Saw you long before you saw me.” A little higher. “Saw the way you held yourself with all the other guys. Heard you put a few of them in their place.” He nipped the pulse point that had tempted him earlier. “But then I met you, learned about you and didn’t want to fuck things up.”

  “Oh my God.” Spoken with a mix of a moan and a whisper, she punctuated the statement with a flex of her hips and speared the hand he’d released in his hair. “We can’t do this. It’s a bad idea.”

  “It’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea.” He kissed his way to the hollow of her throat.

  “No, it’s not. We work together.”

  Fuck it. Maybe it was time to give her mouth something better to do than argue. “Yeah, we do.” He lifted his head and zeroed in on her lips. “And we’re gonna take that to a whole new level.”

  Her breath moved across his face, her eyelids heavy and her mouth parted, ready for his kiss even if her words said otherwise.

  Finally.

  The heavy clank of metal on metal fired gunshot-potent through the wide room, halting him before he could make contact.

  “Yo, Beck!”

  In perfect timing, Beckett and Gia both jerked their heads toward Danny standing mid-threshold to the gym with one hand bracing the door open.

  “Hey, man,” Danny said, clearly not cluing into his shit timing. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Gia wiggled beneath him and murmured, “Beckett, let me up.”

  “Kind of in the middle of something,” Beckett said to Danny, not budging an inch from Gia.

  Either Beckett’s tone, or Gia’s position beneath Beckett finally seemed to register with Danny. “Oh. Shit. Yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder then jerked his head toward the main office. “Well, we tried to call you, but I’m thinkin’ your phone’s in your office.”

  “And?”

  “You remember that band Axel’s got lined up at Crossroads?”

  “Beckett.” Gia wriggled again, but this time her voice was nowhere near as quiet.

  Beckett scowled down at her and growled low enough only she could hear it. “You think I’m gonna let you up right now, you’re out of your goddamned mind.” He twisted to Danny. “Yeah, what about it?”

  “Well, the two guys you sent out for security lost their shit with a couple of the roadies and we’ve got six guys headed to the ER.”

  Fuck. “Where’s Zeke?”

  “Waiting for them at Baylor, but the band’s manager is saying lawsuit about every other word, so you’ve got some PR work to do pronto.” Done delivering his message, Danny volleyed his attention between Beck and Gia. “Sorry, didn’t mean to break up a thing.”

  “It’s not a thing,” Gia bit out, shifting just enough to get an opportune knee free.

  Beckett rolled just in time to miss his nuts getting shoved up into his guts. “Oh, it’s a thing,” he snarled back, but held out a hand and hauled her to her feet. “Danny, need you to hang around and make sure Gia gets out all right.”

  “Sure, man. Whatever you need.”

  Gia rolled her eyes and stomped over to her discarded tank. “Pretty sure I can manage getting in my car just fine. I can even tie my own shoes and everything.”

  “Humor me,” Beckett said as he snatched his tee, tags and shoes off the ground.

  “I already did that.”

  “Not nearly enough.” He paused on the way to the door and moved in close enough to keep his parting shot for her alone. “And don’t think for a second the next time I see you, we’re not picking up right where we left off.”

  Chapter Five

  It was a damned shame a woman couldn’t knock off her problems the way a shooter on a gun range took out their targets. God knew, Gia had racked up plenty of challenges to aim at over the last five days and none of them appeared to be going away anytime soon.

  Her phone buzzed in
her back pocket, one of those shorter zings that signaled a text message instead of a call. She sighed and tried to focus on the competitor moving quickly through the obstacles and targets set up along the gun range’s course. In a timed action event like this one, focus was critical, but all she could do was wonder if the newest message was another clever check-in from Beckett, or a repeat in a long string of apologies from Judd.

  If she was smart, she’d turn the damned thing off.

  She clearly wasn’t, though, as evidenced by the fact that she’d checked every damned one of them since Saturday night. Judd’s attempts to mend the latest hole he’d dug in their friendship she could do without, but those texts from Beckett had proven to be addictive. Persistent and creative. And not one apology in the bunch.

  Winding through the crowd, she moved to the side of the wide viewing area and pulled her phone from her pocket.

  Beckett: You can run, but you can’t hide.

  Hmm. Not nearly as inventive as the gif he’d sent this morning of Deadpool sensually stroking his costume-covered chest. The odd image had given her a chuckle right out of the gate. Then he’d followed it up with a clip of a steaming cup of coffee and a text that said:

  Beckett: Knox hacked your flight schedules, so I know you’re home. You can’t ignore me forever, gorgeous.

  She sighed, tucked her phone back in her pocket and crossed her arms on her chest, braced to wait until her turn to shoot. At least she’d have a chance to burn off some of her frustrations with her bullets and maybe, just maybe, win a little of her confidence back in the form of a competition win.

  The shooter finished, unloaded their firearm and made their way back to the range master. With the wall between the spectators and the firing range, ear protection wasn’t necessary for those watching, but the conversation around her still seemed to swell a little higher without the rapid fires to gobble up the quiet.

  Her senses pricked to someone moving close behind her a second before Beckett’s low voice wrapped around her. “Well, at least I know you’re reading them.”