by Tawny Weber
“The bitter women’s brigade is protesting sex again?” she asked, giving in and graciously letting him change the subject. That was part of the art of communication. Read the signals in order to know when to talk and when to let things go until a better time. Between his sidestepping the issue, refusing to listen and stiff-shouldered body language, she might as well give up. For now.
He nodded. “Oh, we hear from the women’s brigade about once a week. But this was a new one. A European gentleman wanted to offer us a grant to study anger and aggression.”
“There have been a number of studies in that area,” Alexia said, smiling her thanks to the waiter as he swapped her empty glass for a full one.
“Not with the focus of using subliminal messaging and brain-wave manipulation to incite anger.”
“Incite? Isn’t five o’clock on the 405 freeway enough to do that?”
After a brow-furrowed second, Edward quirked a smile, then shook his head. “Apparently not. This gentleman offered a huge sum of money. Enough that I was actually tempted, if not for the fact that we’re already so committed to the current project that it’d hurt our reputation to pull out at this point.”
Well, goody for future funding and the need to keep up one’s reputation. She hadn’t signed on for anger management, and didn’t like the idea that Edward and the institute’s focus could be bought. Alexia gripped her fork so tight it left a dent in her fingers, but managed to smother the anger before she made a nasty remark. Dating, friendship and the rest aside, Edward was still her boss. Calling him a greedy weasel was probably a bad idea.
But she’d taken the position at the institute because she wanted to help people. Because she knew the power sexual satisfaction could offer and truly believed that everyone deserved a chance at that kind of pleasure. Not to make money for whoever had the deepest pockets.
Her mind flashed back to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach that afternoon. As she let herself focus on the image of his butt, so tight and solid beneath those wet swim trunks, the red edges of anger faded from her vision. Now, that was the kind of guy who inspired fantasies and made a woman very, very aware that she was female. But for women with issues, whether from conditioning or abuse, that delight was out of reach.
Too bad she hadn’t gotten a chance to see if the reality of hot, sexy and gorgeous was as delicious as the fantasy. She could have called it work incentive.
Or just mind-blowingly awesome sex.
* * *
AN HOUR AND A HALF later, Alexia paid the cab and stepped onto the shell-encrusted sidewalk in front of JR’s. The club-slash-bar fronted a long stretch of beach, both lit up like carnival attractions.
She wasn’t sure why she was here. She definitely didn’t need another drink. But she didn’t want to go home, either. And the idea of spending any more time with Edward, pretending that everything was peachy keen, was enough to make her scream. She wanted to dance. To relax in a crowd of strangers. And JR’s was the only bar she knew well enough to feel safe. A regular hangout of the navy locals, it wasn’t that it didn’t get rowdy or wild. But it had three major advantages. One, it was a familiar place so she knew what she’d get when she walked through the door. Two, she was there to dance, and if anyone tried to push for more, her get-out-of-trouble-free card, aka the mention of her father’s name, would cut them off at the knee. And three, she’d never get involved with a military man. Ever. She’d had enough of the military growing up to know that a sailor’s first priority was to his very dangerous, often secretive career. And while she respected that, she had no interest in being background noise in someone’s life.
Still, walking into the club was like stepping face-first into chaos. Noise, so loud the music had to be felt instead of heard, pounded through her. Heat from the crowd of bodies swirled with an ambitious air conditioner. Lights flashed, strobed and glowed, depending on which way she turned her head.
Maybe she should have just gone home.
But she’d have gone crazy there, with only her thoughts and guilt for company. Michael was on a date, and three days back wasn’t enough time for her to have made any new friendships. So she was on her own.
And she needed action. Movement. Something to shake off the sexual tension that’d been driving at her all afternoon. Since hunting down the sexy guy from the beach wasn’t an option, she’d figured she’d do the next best thing to release body tension. Dance.
About to head for the flashing lights of the dance floor and kick up the heels of her favorite Manolos, a man at the bar caught her attention.
Blake?
The hot, sexy and gorgeous from the beach?
A slow, wicked smile curved her lips at the sight.
He was just as appealing dry and clothed as he’d been wet and half-naked. In jeans and a simple T-shirt that did wonders for his broad shoulders, he looked like a guy who just wanted a drink and some alone-time. Too bad for him, though, since a blonde barracuda was tiptoeing her red talons up his chest. Was that his type? Blatant, busty and ballsy? He grabbed the blonde’s hand on its downward sweep, shaking his head. She didn’t back off. Alexia bit her lip to keep from laughing at the range of emotions chasing across his face. Irritation, confusion and just a hint of amusement. Poor guy, he probably hadn’t realized this was a navy bar. Which meant pushy, desperate women all focused on one thing. Catching themselves a sailor boy.
He looked as if he needed saving.
Sliding and pressing her way through the crowd of bodies, she made a path to the bar. The music was quieter here, but the cacophony of voices made up for it. She was about five feet away when Blake’s gaze found her. Delight flared in those blue depths, making her girl parts feel oh-so-happy. Happy enough that she hesitated. Getting all hot and wet over a stranger wasn’t a bad thing. But it wasn’t where she was at in her life right now, either. Despite what she’d told Michael, she had feelings for Edward. Ones that deserved to be explored. She couldn’t explore feelings for one guy while another was tickling her girlie parts. It just wasn’t right.
But could she leave Blake there at the mercy of the red-taloned barracuda?
As if sensing her struggle, Blake gave her a wide-eyed look of desperation. Hurry up, he mouthed. Alexia’s lips twitched, but her feet started moving again.
She bypassed the blonde and positioned herself behind Blake. Heavily made-up eyes glanced her way, dismissing her with a flick of false lashes.
It was going to take stronger measures, Alexia realized. Warning her girlie parts not to get too excited, she moved in close, draping her arm over the broad muscles of Blake’s shoulders. He was like steel. Solid, strong, sleek. Her mouth watered. To give it something to do before she actually drooled, she leaned forward to brush a friendly kiss over his cheek. He smelled like the ocean. Clean, salty, intoxicating.
“He’s with me,” she said, giving the blonde a go-away tilt of her head.
“He’s not wearing a ring.”
Alexia’s expression didn’t change. All she did was curve her hand over Blake’s shoulder. Possession. Then she leaned her body closer to his. Whether he knew what she was doing or he was preparing to use her for a shield, he wrapped his own arm around her waist, pulling her tight to his side.
Desire sent her body into a tailspin at his touch. Warm tingles swirled, heating her nipples to pebbled warmth before trickling down to her belly. Because he was sitting on the bar stool and she was standing, his head was level with her shoulder. All it would take was for him to turn his head and his lips could brush her nipples.
Alexia had to force her breath to steady, her vision to clear. She couldn’t do anything about the damp heat between her thighs as her girlie parts did a happy dance, though.
“Like I said,” Alexia repeated as soon as she knew her voice was steady, “he’s with me.”
Proving that brains and bleach weren’t mutually exclusive, the barracuda hissed through a smile clenched so tight her jaw had to ache, then shrugged.
“Fine. You two have fun,�
� she said. Flicking a challenging look at Alexia, she leaned against Blake, pressing so tight her silicone squished out the sides of her tank top. She sank both hands into the sides of his neck, pulled his head down and slapped a slurpy wet kiss on his shocked mouth.
“Just in case you change your mind,” the blonde said when she released him.
Grinding her teeth, Alexia almost reached over Blake’s shoulder and smacked the smile off the blonde’s face. Whether it was just her nature, or a by-product of the red hair, anger was an emotion she visited daily. But jealousy was brand-new to her. Trying to tamp down the green-eyed gnawing fury in her belly, she decided it wasn’t one she liked.
Still, her fingers curled into a fist and her eyes narrowed as she sized up the other woman. At five-ten and dedicated to her gym membership, Alexia was pretty sure she could take her.
“I guess I’ll join my friends now,” the blonde said, looking a little afraid.
Subliminal messaging at its best.
Realizing that she still had her hand fisted, Alexia took a deep, calming breath and relaxed her fingers. Then, because she really needed the rest of her body to relax, too, she shifted away from Blake. Touching him was anything but calming. It took another deep breath before she had enough control to put on a friendly expression and walk around to face him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, shaking his head as he watched Blondie sashay away. Like if he took his eyes off her before she’d reached a safe distance, she might ricochet back and plaster herself all over his body. “She wasn’t interested in hearing no.”
“It’s a hard word for some people to accept,” Alexia agreed with a grimace, thinking of her dinner date. “I spent most of my upbringing trying to get people to listen when I said no. Or yes. Or anything, actually.”
She tried to laugh away her discomfort at oversharing. Communication was important. But it was a two-way street, not a one-way emotional dump. Blake didn’t look uncomfortable, though. More...curious.
“You don’t seem like a wimp to me,” he said after a long contemplation.
“Well, aren’t you the sweet talker,” she said, both amused and relieved. Not that she figured on tossing him over her shoulder and carrying him off to have her wicked way with his body or anything—mostly because he was too heavy to carry. But she’d hate to think that she was on par with the barracuda when it came to scaring guys off.
“Sweet talk is a game, isn’t it?” he said. Then he shrugged. “I don’t play games.”
Ooh. Intriguing. If his sexy body hadn’t already caught her interest, the idea of finding out if he was for real—or if that statement was simply a game in itself—would have hooked her for sure.
“That must be tough, being a nongame kind of guy in an arena like this.” She twirled her fingers, indicating the lights, the bar, the bodies. “In here, like in life, almost everyone is playing a game of some kind.”
He looked around the bar, his expression blank. Just a little lost. As if he wasn’t sure how he’d got there. Alexia’s heart clenched. He was so wounded. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. Let him rest his head on her breasts while she combed her fingers through his dark hair.
Her nipples tightened as if preparing for just that.
What’d happened that he felt so much pain? Maybe if she got him talking, he’d open up. Let it out so he could start healing.
Radiating damp heat and fresh off the dance floor, a guy tried to get past her to order a drink. Alexia wedged herself between Blake’s body and the bar stool. Now it wasn’t the music throbbing through her body. It was desire, hot, intense and needy. Nothing wrong with that. She was a red-blooded woman with a healthy appreciation for her sexuality. Didn’t mean she was going to act on it.
Maybe.
* * *
BLAKE WATCHED the sexy redhead closely, mulling over her comment. He didn’t like to think of himself as a game player. But she was right. Everyone probably did play games in one way or another. Hell, the military called them war games. A test, pitting man against man. Even man against himself. The endurance and strength training, weren’t those games of sorts?
And the mental gyrations he’d been playing before the blonde had tried to dig her lethal claws into him. It’d be a game, pure and simple, trying to convince himself that he’d exaggerated Alexia’s impact in his mind. That she wasn’t as sexy, as gorgeous, as appealing as he remembered.
But now that she was standing in front of him again? She had the same impact as an unexpected fist to the gut. Shocking, intense and demanding an instant response.
Her personality was as bubbly as her looks. Fiery curls, golden skin and molten dark eyes topped a body that made a man want to get on his knees to offer thanks...among other things.
The memory of her body, each and every delicious curve of it highlighted by tiny scraps of purple fabric, was etched in his mind. So he didn’t begrudge the loose fit of her dress, high at the neck but leaving her shoulders bare, the turquoise pleats barely skimming the tips of her breasts before draping to midthigh. Her legs were bare. Yards of silky golden leg stretched between the bottom of her dress and skyscraper heels.
“So,” she said after a long pause, her voice a little breathless. He wondered where her mental trip had taken her. And what kind of games it’d included. And if he’d been there. Maybe naked.
“So,” she said again, clearing her throat then giving him a bright, friendly but not flirty smile. “What brings you to a club like this? It doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“Why not?”
“This is navyland,” she said, waving her hand around the room. “Soldiers and sailors, this is their hangout. Most guys avoid it unless they’re stationed at Coronado.”
Blake frowned into his beer before taking a drink.
“You don’t think I belong here?”
He didn’t know how to take that. He’d joined the navy the day after he’d graduated high school, and had found his home. His place in the world. With the SEALs, he’d found family. He’d never wanted to be anything else.
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got the body and the, well, energy, to be a sailor boy,” she said, her tone still teasing as she gave him a slow once-over. Her big brown eyes slid from his face and down his body. Proving he was alive and doing damn well, his body stirred in reaction. Hardened.
“But?” he prodded when her eyes stayed a little too long on his jeans. A few more seconds and she was going to be seeing a whole different terrain down there.
“But you don’t have that bravado I usually associate with soldiers,” she said a little breathlessly, looking into his eyes again.
“Bravado, hmm? Is that a requirement, something they issue along with the uniform?” He grinned. Maybe Cade was right. Maybe he was burned out. He liked the sound of that better than wallowing in grief. Whatever it was, he kinda liked that Alexia didn’t know he was a sailor. With her, he wasn’t Lieutenant Landon, decorated Navy SEAL, radioman, linguist and teammate. He wasn’t a finely honed weapon, a highly trained warrior. He wasn’t a military paycheck, or a score to be notched.
He was just a man.
That was so damn appealing.
“I think bravado is intrinsic,” she decided. “It either fits, or it doesn’t. But a uniform probably helps.”
“And you like the uniform?” Figured. Most women did. Most women didn’t even look past it. Plenty of guys didn’t care. Whatever bait worked, they reeled ’em in. Blake was pickier than that, though. And oddly deflated to think that Alexia wasn’t.
The bartender delivered a fresh drink and took the empty. Blake nodded his thanks and lifted the bottle, ready to wash some of the bitterness off his tongue.
“I’m not a fan, actually.”
Thirst forgotten, Blake slowly lowered his beer. Not a fan? Seriously?
Seeing his shock, she grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate our servicemen and women. They are amazing. But when it comes to relationships, I’d rath
er steer clear.”
“Relationships?” He pulled a face. Women always used that word. What it meant was sex with a soldier—and let’s face it, SEALs did everything, including sex, better. Or a golden ticket to a soldier’s paycheck and benefits without the day-to-day work of being a wife.
Blake realized that this was probably the first time since he’d enlisted that he’d had a flirt going on with a woman who was only focused on him. Not the SEAL thrill. Yeah, this just-being-a-man thing was wildly appealing. He didn’t consider it a lie not to tell her he was navy. She’d made the assumption, after all. He was just letting her go with it.
“Yes, relationships.” She laughed, bringing him back to the conversation. “I’m a fan of the concept.”
How much of a fan? A groupie type? A desperately chase-after-it type? Blake frowned. Was she in one? Would she be here if she was? You never knew with women. He debated asking. The problem was, once that discussion door was open, it went both ways.
“But most women here,” she continued, waving her hand again to encompass the loud club. “They’re all about the goal, not the relationship.”
“What’s the goal?”
“Fishing. They’re here to fish for sailors,” she said, shifting closer so she didn’t have to shout the words. Close enough that her body heat wrapped around him, her scent filled his head with the image of sun, surf and sex. “Some, like Blondie, are catch and release. Others are looking for a keeper.”
“That’s awfully cynical,” he observed, laughing even though her words echoed his own thoughts. “Aren’t you women supposed to stick together? You know, group bathroom trip, the girl code, the secret sisterhood?”
Dark eyes dancing, Alexia leaned closer. Blake almost held his breath so as not to be tempted by her scent. Coconut, spices, just a hint of something floral and purely female. Then he remembered he was a solider. A navy SEAL, for crying out loud. He was brave enough to deal with sexy.
“Oh, believe me, if she was a friend I’d be distracting you while she slid that hook into your mouth,” she assured him with a laugh. “But tonight, you look like you could use someone on your side.”
