One Night with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  Giddiness bubbled up in her chest. He’d waited for her? To make sure she was okay? She’d never had a man wait for her before.

  It was sweet.

  And had her attitude softening toward him.

  “My car is at a used lot in Albuquerque,” she said. “At least, I’m guessing it’s still there. Not many people have much use for a ten-year-old compact with one hundred and fifty thousand miles. I sure didn’t.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have a car.”

  “Nope.”

  “You don’t have a car,” he repeated, making her wonder if he’d suffered a recent brain injury affecting his short-term memory. “You walk home.”

  It wasn’t a question, more like a statement of disbelief, but she answered him anyway. “Yes.”

  He stared at her as if she’d just told him she flew to the moon every night. His mouth barely moved when he spoke—how did he do that? Was he a part-time ventriloquist?

  And then his words penetrated her brain.

  “Are you stupid?”

  Her eyes narrowed. That little giddy bubble in her chest popped with a sharp poke of reality and any softening went stone-cold hard.

  “Not even a little,” she said. “But you must be.”

  Turning on her heel, she walked away, worrying that Xander was right. She was stupid.

  Because for a second there, she’d wanted him to be different.

  * * *

  “SHIT,” XANDER MUTTERED as Quinn stalked away, all long legs and pissed-off attitude.

  He caught up with her in two strides. She sped up, her hand in her front pocket, the sound of the heels of her boots clicking on the sidewalk echoing in the night. She couldn’t outrun him, which only increased his initial irritation.

  She couldn’t outrun an attacker.

  “What’s in your purse?” he asked.

  “Seriously? First you wait in the dark for me like a stalker and now you’re mugging me?” She tsked. Twice. “Your mother must be so disappointed.”

  “When I first approached you—”

  “Scared the crap out of me,” she corrected.

  He ignored it. If she’d been more aware of her surroundings, he wouldn’t have startled her. Not that he was going to mention that.

  He’d been enough of an idiot already. He didn’t need to add to it.

  “You went for something in your purse,” he continued. “And as disappointed as my mom would be in me, she’d hate for me to come home with a bullet wound and bleed on her floors. Especially if she finds out I didn’t even get my apology out first.”

  Quinn gave an eye roll so huge, he was surprised she didn’t lose her equilibrium and tip over. “It’s not a gun. It’s pepper spray. So no blood, just a few tears. Which might help make your apology—” she said apology as if she’d put air quotes around it “—seem sincere.”

  “I deserve that,” he said, “but I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”

  She slid him a “that’s bullshit” look.

  He’d have to prove it to her.

  Except she was still walking, going at that fast clip, her shoulders rigid, chin lifted. His window of opportunity for getting her to listen to him, to believe him, was being slammed shut.

  On his head.

  “I shouldn’t have said you were stupid.”

  She ignored him.

  “Quinn.” He touched her arm and she stopped. Stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry.” He stepped around her, ducked his head so he could meet her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, knowing damn well anything worth doing, worth saying, was worth putting in 100 percent effort. “I know you’re not stupid.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she eyed him with no little amount of mistrust. “How?”

  He frowned, tried to concentrate on the mission at hand but it was tough as hell when all he could think about was pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck. Breathing in her scent. Tasting her skin. “What?”

  “How do you know I’m not stupid? You don’t even really know me. We went to high school together but we weren’t friends. We didn’t even hang out with the same crowd.”

  She waited but he was struggling with what to tell her, what to say that didn’t make him sound like some pathetic loser who’d been hung up on her ten years ago.

  Or worse, who was still hung up on her.

  She frowned, but in her eyes he didn’t see disdain so much as...disappointment. “So much for ‘I don’t say anything I don’t mean.’”

  And she walked away from him.

  Again.

  It was becoming a habit. He couldn’t say he liked it much.

  He cleared his throat and prepared to out himself. Sometimes being honorable, always doing the right thing, was a pain in the ass.

  “English class.”

  She jerked to a stop and whirled around. “What?”

  “Our senior year. We were in the same Advanced Placement English class...”

  And he could tell by her frown that she didn’t remember.

  Yeah, his ego was taking a hell of a beating tonight.

  “And you had the highest grade,” he continued.

  She took a step toward him this time.

  Progress.

  “You remembered that?” she asked.

  When it came to her, he remembered everything. How she played with her hair when she was reading, twisting a strand of it around her finger, oblivious to everything going on near her. Her husky laugh that turned everyone’s heads. How her face would light up when she debated with the teacher over a book’s theme.

  But he’d already given away too much. Just waiting for her to finish work exposed his true intentions, but when he’d seen Zane talking with her at the bar after they’d accepted that stupid challenge, he’d known he had to step up his game if he wanted to win.

  If he wanted Quinn.

  “I know you’re not stupid,” he told her, “because you carry pepper spray and you’re not afraid to use it. Because you left the bar out the front door and not the back, which leads to an alley, and because you’ve got your cell phone in your hand—” He nodded at the hand she still had in her pocket. “Ready to call for help should you feel threatened.” He stepped closer, relieved and grateful when she didn’t back away. “You’re not stupid,” he murmured, “but you are taking a risk, walking home alone at night.”

  “It’s a safe town. Half the people here don’t even lock their doors at night.”

  “Bad things happen in every town. No matter how small or safe.” He’d seen too much ugliness in the world to pretend there were areas it didn’t exist. Couldn’t let her go if it meant the possibility of her getting hurt. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “Hang out in the middle of the night with a man I barely know, one who knows a thousand ways to kill someone? That seems riskier than me going it alone.”

  She was messing with him. Pushing him. And it was late enough, and he was tired enough, to want to push back, just a little. He edged even closer, so close she had to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. But she held her ground. Her scent, something soft with a hint of spice, wrapped around him in the warm, still night.

  “You’re safe with me.”

  Her sharp, sardonic grin was at odds with the wariness in her eyes. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He stilled. “Are you afraid of me, Quinn?”

  “No, just smart enough not to accept every offer I get from some good-looking sailor in town for a few days.”

  “I only want to walk you home.”

  She laughed softly, the light sound almost his undoing. “You sure about that?”

  The quiet words blew through him and he couldn’t help it. He grinned, slow and easy and, holding her gaze, tol
d her the truth. “No, that’s not all I want. But it’s what I’ll settle for. Let me walk you home, Quinn.”

  * * *

  DAMN HIM. DAMN HIM!

  It wasn’t his promise that had Quinn’s stomach quivering with a mix of lust and nerves. It wasn’t his honesty in admitting to wanting more from her than a 3:00 a.m., one-mile stroll through their hometown.

  That had her seriously considering taking him up on his offer.

  It was his self-deprecating smile.

  Why did he have to have a sense of humor? Or at least, a sense of the absurd.

  It was her weakness.

  One of them, anyway. She seemed to have more than her fair share when it came to men.

  Especially ones who looked as good as Xander.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, crossing her arms and willing herself to stay strong in the face of...well...in the face of all six feet plus of broad-shouldered, clean-cut handsomeness. “And why should I believe you?”

  He watched her in a way that made her antsy. Made her want to curl into herself and hide from his view. “Why shouldn’t you?”

  Good point. She had no reason to think he was being anything less than 100 percent truthful.

  Then again, she had no reason to trust him, either.

  And that was what he was asking for. Her trust.

  Easy to ask for. Harder—much, much harder—to give.

  “Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen,” he said when she remained silent. “I promise.”

  She had to give him credit. He was excellent at the whole “I’m one of the good guys” routine. She wanted to believe him.

  And really, what would it hurt? Yes, he made her nervous, but not in a “he’s going to murder me and hide my body in his mom’s basement” way.

  More like a basic, elemental, sexual way.

  He made her want. Made her remember how long it had been since a man had touched her. Had kissed her. How long it had been since a man had moved inside her.

  Her mouth dried. Her pelvis contracted with need.

  Yeah, he made her want.

  Damn him again.

  It soothed her nerves to at least know she wasn’t in this alone. He wanted her, as well. Hadn’t he practically admitted that just a moment ago?

  She wasn’t sure if that made this whole situation better. Or worse.

  But it definitely made it more interesting.

  “My apartment’s on Brookside Court,” she said. That was over a mile away in the opposite direction of his mother’s house. Which meant he’d have to walk back here to get his truck. “Still want to walk me home?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She shrugged and told herself she was not thrilled at the way he didn’t even hesitate. “Well, then, it looks like you’ve found yourself a damsel in no distress. Let’s go.”

  He fell into step beside her, big and broad and silent and, she hated to admit, comforting.

  It was nice not being alone.

  So nice a girl could get used to it if she wasn’t careful.

  “You’re not staying with your mom?” he asked as they turned left onto First Street.

  The house she’d grown up in was on Harrison Road, outside of town. “Mom moved to Seattle four years ago.”

  She felt him glance at her. “But you came back to Little Creek. After your divorce.”

  She wasn’t surprised he knew she’d been married. That she’d failed at it. Like she’d told him, everyone in Little Creek knew everything about everyone else.

  “Yeah, I came back. Desperate times and all that,” she said, injecting a note of lightness she didn’t feel into her tone. “Mom invited me to move in with her at her new place, but she has a boyfriend now and I felt I was in the way. Plus, I guess I wanted something familiar, and Little Creek sure fit that bill.”

  It was safe. A place she could recuperate and lick her wounds and figure out what to do next.

  “You didn’t want to stay in Albuquerque?”

  “Phoenix,” she corrected. “Albuquerque was just the place my car died on the drive back here. And, no, I didn’t want to stay.”

  Living in Little Creek might bring daily reminders of who she used to be, but staying in Phoenix would have been worse.

  There she was reminded of the person she’d become. Of what she’d almost been willing to sacrifice to hold on to a man who wasn’t worthy of her.

  Xander was doing that whole watchful thing again, waiting for her to go on. Maybe it was the night, the dark surrounding them, the feeling as if they were the only two people in the world, or maybe it was because it was so late and she was tired.

  Or maybe it was because Xander was listening—really listening. That he was interested in what she had to say.

  Maybe it was because, for some reason she refused to delve into too deeply, she wanted to tell him. Wanted him to know something about her, something no one else did.

  His fault for bringing up English class. For remembering her in that class all those years ago.

  For remembering something about herself she could be proud of.

  “Phoenix was Peter’s town,” she heard herself say. “My ex. He was raised there, has family there and I realized that our friends were really his friends. Once I left him, there was nothing there for me, so I came home.”

  It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Harder even, than finally going through with her threats and divorcing Peter.

  The bastard.

  “I’m sorry,” Xander said, “that things didn’t work out.”

  She laughed but the sound held no humor. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you marry someone who lies and cheats. Things don’t work out.”

  Xander stiffened beside her. “He cheated on you?”

  Her face warmed but at least it was dark enough he couldn’t see her blush. “It doesn’t matter now. I left him.”

  She’d left him, but it had taken her finding out about his third affair to finally do that. She’d been so desperate to hold on to her marriage. Wanted so badly to believe that he could change.

  Wanted him to love her enough to change for her.

  Lesson learned. People were who they were and no amount of wishing and hoping could make them different.

  She picked up her pace, the confession of her marriage, of what really happened, spurring her to move faster, to get home sooner.

  To get away from Xander.

  He kept up easily—no surprise, the man was a highly trained SEAL for God’s sake. Did she really think she could outwalk him?

  They fell silent, and when she spotted the light on at her apartment door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Dug her key out of her purse. “This is me,” she said, heading up the stone steps, surprised when he followed.

  With a shrug, she let him. Unlocked her door and made the mistake of turning to say goodbye. To thank him.

  He stood on the step below, leaving them eye to eye. Mouth to mouth. In the soft glow of the light, his eyes were dark and he smelled really, really good.

  She swallowed. “Thanks for the escort.”

  He nodded. Turned only to face her again. “Peter is an idiot.”

  “No argument there,” she said, but was surprised by the vehemence in his tone, the utter belief. “Although I’m not sure you’re the best to judge seeing as how you’ve never met him.”

  “He let you go,” he said simply. “That’s all I need to know.”

  Her scalp prickled. Her palms went damp. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to look at her that way, as if she was something precious? Something worth holding on to?

  She could have resisted him, she assured herself. Could have sent him on his way with a smile and “see you later,” but now?

&n
bsp; Now she couldn’t let him go.

  “What if I want it to happen?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She licked her lips. Swallowed. In for a penny, she thought...

  “You said that nothing was going to happen that I didn’t want to happen.” Inhaling deeply, she did something she hadn’t done in a long, long time. She took a chance. “What if I want it to happen?”

  4

  QUINN’S PULSE POUNDED in her ears, her words echoing in her head.

  What if I want it to happen?

  Being brave was not for the faint of heart. She wondered how Xander did it on a daily basis.

  Because while he stood there, still as a statue, cool, calm and collected, she was a heart-racing, palms-sweating, stomach-turning mess. She didn’t make the first move with men. She didn’t have to.

  A fact she should be incredibly grateful for. Putting herself out there like this sucked. It made her vulnerable, too dependent on what a man wanted. Gave him all the control.

  And she’d promised herself she’d never, ever let a man have that much power over her again.

  “What do you want to happen?” he asked, his gaze searching. Seeking. Looking for the truth.

  But she couldn’t give him that. Couldn’t open herself up to him. Not that much.

  “You walked me home,” she said, unable to answer his question. “Right to my door. You waited for me,” she continued accusingly.

  If he hadn’t waited, if he hadn’t walked her home, she wouldn’t be here, out on her stoop in the middle of the night, stuttering and stammering and wishing she had enough courage to go after what she wanted.

  This was his fault. All his fault for being so stubborn and steady and way, way too tempting. For making her believe in the notion of being taken care of. Of being cared for.

  Those kind of crazy thoughts had gotten her into too much trouble in her life. She’d spent years fantasizing about the unattainable, things like having a true partner, a man she could count on. Who wanted her for herself and not just her looks. Who’d be there for her always.

  Who wouldn’t walk away.