by Tawny Weber
“Well, it’s not like you had an in-depth discussion there on the beach.” Then he gave Blake a searching look, arched both brows and asked, “Unless you had a little tête-à-tête after the beach encounter?”
SEALs didn’t break that easily. Apparently a denial or confirmation wasn’t necessary. Michael gleefully dived right into conclusionville. “Ooh, this is juicy. Where did you hook up? And did you? Hook up, I mean? Obviously you did. No wonder she was all airy-fairy this evening. This is probably why she didn’t want to bring Dr. Darling to the shindig.”
“Who?”
“Some guy,” Michael dismissed with another wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter. What matters are the details. When did you get together, where were you and what are your intentions? Those are the questions that need answering.”
“What guy?” Blake persisted, shifting his body weight so he loomed rather than stood over the younger man. “What’s his relationship with Alexia? Is she involved? Is he someone she cares about?”
“If she cared, he’d be here.”
Blake rocked back on his heels.
He was here. But not with Alexia. There was a message in that somewhere.
“What’s her issue with the military?”
“Well, you’ve met our father.” For the first time, Michael’s carefree facade cracked, showing a layer of bitter hurt. Blake had seen the same expression in Alexia’s eyes in the bar, when she’d talked about military men. Seemed the admiral wasn’t in the running for any father-of-the-year prizes.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said, charm back in place as he got to his feet. “I really am. I think you’d be good for Alexia.”
“So why are you sorry?”
“Because she won’t talk to you again.”
“You don’t know that.” Even though it was pretty much exactly what she’d said. But Blake didn’t accept it. And what he didn’t accept, he changed.
“Look, you’re a great guy,” Michael explained. “And Alexia deserves great, unquestionably. But she’ll never date a soldier.” He hesitated, as if he was worried about Blake’s reaction. Then he laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Blake dropped to the bench swing as he watched the younger man walk away.
Up until three weeks ago, he’d loved his job. He’d trained for it, embraced it, lived for it. He’d never questioned being a SEAL. Never wanted anything else.
But in the space of the last couple of weeks, that same job he loved, he identified with, had taken two things that he hadn’t wanted to give up.
His buddy.
And the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
He couldn’t do a damn thing about Phil. But he could about Alexia. All he needed was a plan, a little strategy and the right hook. He’d get her back.
Damned if he wouldn’t.
7
BLAKE GAVE ALEXIA an hour. Enough time to chill, but not enough to stew. He used the time wisely, stopping by Cade’s to change into jeans. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she wasn’t a fan of a guy in uniform.
Truce wasn’t going to be negotiated if he pissed her off from the get-go. Not that he expected an easy surrender on her part. She was too fiery for that. Too intense. Which was just one of the reasons he was crazy about her.
One of the reasons he refused to let her end this between them.
Parking his truck in front of her condo, he took a breath. Middle-of-the-night battles had a different feel than daytime skirmishes. An edge.
Prepared to win, he strode up to her door and knocked.
He figured she’d be mad at first, probably have that chill going still. He’d charm her a little, play the apology game, bring her around to admitting that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Five, ten minutes tops and he’d be reveling in the pleasure of her again.
A few seconds later he knocked again.
He didn’t have to look at his watch to know it was 1:00 a.m. Just like he didn’t have to look at her brightly lit windows to know she was still up.
He waited a few more seconds, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“You might as well answer,” he told her machine when it picked up. “I’ll stay here all night. Patience is a particular virtue of mine, remember? I can last all night, babe. You know that. Even when you’re naked, gyrating over me and driving me crazy, I can hold out. Actually, I like waiting. It’s like a personal test, to see how many times I can make you come before I can’t control myself anymore.”
Before he could detail all the things he’d liked that she did to push that control, the door swung open. Blake grinned.
Alexia’s glare was lethal.
Her hair, sleek and sexy just hours ago, was brushed out in a wild frizz so it haloed her face like an angry red cloud.
Her face was scrubbed clean, the siren’s glow that’d matched her evening dress completely eradicated. All that was left was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and smudged remnants of mascara under her furious eyes.
His lips twitched. Was this girl-battle 101? Make the enemy think they don’t want the goods so they walk away without bothering to engage?
Nope.
His gaze skimmed the huge sweatshirt, noting that Jon Bon Jovi was still sporting the big curls and guyliner. The faded gray fabric enveloped her so well, her curves disappeared. Frayed cotton shorts drooped to her knees.
Her toenails were still a glittery, sexy red, though.
Her legs smooth and silky looking.
Her translucent skin flushed with anger, she was just as sexy now as she’d been wrapped in that tiny bikini on the beach.
Not a chance he’d walk away.
He wanted those goods.
“We need to talk,” he said. The sooner they did, the sooner he could strip ole Jon off her body and get down to worshipping those toes.
“Talk? You know the concept?” she asked, not shifting out of the doorway.
“I’ve been introduced to it a time or two,” he said drily. Figuring she’d negotiate better if she thought she was calling the shots, he didn’t push her to let him inside. Instead, he leaned against the door frame and gave her a charming smile.
She automatically stepped back, glowered, then stood her ground again. Damn, she was cute.
“I think the opportunity to talk has passed. I’m sure, as a military man, you’re aware of how many battles have been lost not because of mistakes, but because of timing.”
Blake wasn’t sure if it was because he knew Pierce was her father, or if it was her tone of voice, so precise, cold and similar to the admiral’s, but the resemblance between them was remarkable at that moment.
“I don’t let other people’s mistakes dictate my decisions,” he told her. “And I’ve never lost a battle.”
“Well, you won’t be able to say that again, will you?” she taunted with a chilly smile.
Blake’s smile wavered for a second. He’d figured she’d be angry, but this was a little over the top.
“Would you mind clarifying something for me?” he asked, running low on charm. Not waiting for her response, he continued, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t cheat my way into your bed. I didn’t even make any promises. I was respectful, honorable and up-front.”
He waited for her to acknowledge his largesse. Instead, she slammed her arms across her chest and glared.
Wow. Talk about standing guard over that mountain she’d constructed from a tiny pile of dirt.
“So, what’s the deal?” he asked when he saw that’s all he was going to get. “Why are you so angry?”
There.
The facts, simply laid out and incontrovertible.
He didn’t expect an apology right away. He figured pride, the baffling twists of a woman’s mind and maybe a little embarrassment at overreacting would have to be worked through first. He could wait.
His gaze skimmed her shapeless, colorless outfit again and his blood heated. He sure hoped she’d let
him in so he could enjoy himself while he waited.
“Ah, those fine lines,” she mused, relaxing enough to lean against the edge of the door she still gripped and crossing one ankle over the other. “The only problem with your argument is that you’re ignoring intention. Communication isn’t just the words we say, it’s the message we intend to share.”
“I don’t want to sound crude, but what I intended to share was my body with yours. A good time, a lot of incredible sex and, as we spent more time together, maybe a chance to build more,” he countered, reaching out to take her hand. He shoved his impatience back, telling himself this was part of what made her so appealing. Her fiery nature.
Then she moved her fingers away. His brow furrowed. But when she didn’t close the door any farther he let himself start to relax. Almost there.
“Oh, yes, the wonders of sex. It was great, wasn’t it?” she said, her smile wicked. He shifted, starting to feel a little nervous when it didn’t reach her eyes. “And we both had the same intentions when it came to that. But one of us, unlike the other, hid pertinent facts in order to have all that great sex.”
“I didn’t hide a damn thing,” he denied, starting to get irritated.
“No? You didn’t hide your job, your lifestyle, your affiliation? Given that being a SEAL requires a level of dedication that’s steeped in the blood, not sharing that was a deliberate choice on your part. Since I’d made my feelings about being involved with a military man clear, I can only assume that choice was made with the intention of hiding your career from me.”
She sounded like a freaking lawyer. Or worse, he realized, gritting his teeth, a psychologist.
“You didn’t share your last name,” he countered.
“You’re right.” She inclined her head, the move sending her halo of frizzed-out curls wafting around her face. “And that makes me loose and easy. Which is still better than a liar in my book.”
That was enough. Blake straightened, giving her a dark look. Name-calling? That’s the best she could do?
“Look, you have some issues with your father. I get that. And I know he pissed you off with his little matchmaking game. But what does it matter? We’re great together. You’re not going to toss that away over him, are you? Because, what? You have some kind of Pavlovian response, automatically rejecting whatever your father approves of?”
As the words cleared his lips, Blake cringed.
She froze. Everything except her eyes. Those were like fire. She gave him a long, slow once-over before meeting his gaze again. This time he almost stepped back. “Well, aren’t you clever? Throwing out those psych terms like an expert. Clearly you’ve got it all figured out. So tell me, Blake... Do you know the meaning of closure? How about inductive reasoning? Or here’s a simple one. Goodbye.”
She didn’t wait for his response before stepping back and slamming the door shut in his face.
Damn.
Furious with himself, Blake glared at the closed door.
He deserved to get shot down over that one.
Dammit, he’d just wanted a space from the memories, a chance to be a man instead of a soldier who’d just lost a brother-in-arms. What was it with women, always expecting a guy to spill his guts and blab like they did? He didn’t want to talk about his job, or about Phil. He was escaping, not looking for a chance to wallow.
And if she’d wanted to know more about who he was, what he did for a living, then that was on her. She should have asked instead of pitching a fit after the fact.
He resisted the temptation to bang on the door again, shoving his fists in his pockets instead. Grinding his teeth, he stared unseeingly while his mind regrouped.
He wasn’t finished.
He never gave up.
But, as much as it grated to admit, retreat was the only option right now.
Tomorrow, though?
Tomorrow, he’d win.
* * *
THE LAST THING Alexia wanted to do after a sleepless night spent crying over Blake was to face her father. She’d wanted to stay in bed with the covers pulled over her head and a bowl of hot fudge.
But she knew that walking out on his party was tantamount to a declaration of war. As with all conflicts the admiral oversaw, the battles would be played to win at all costs. But she’d spent her formative years learning strategy and figured she was as prepared as she could be.
She wouldn’t win. Nope, she wasn’t delusional. Going up against an admiral in the United States Navy, a SEAL trainer? She didn’t stand a chance. This was all about mitigating damages.
The timing was crucial. A waiting period of just long enough for his temper to drop but not long enough for it to chill.
The combat zone had to be chosen with an eye toward tactics. Brunch at her mother’s table didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t get ugly. But it did mean he’d have to stop to take sips of his coffee between insults.
Her weapons? Maturity and logic, and a gift for communication. As long as she kept her temper and presented her case in a diplomatic, intelligent way, the admiral would listen. He might not agree, but he’d listen.
So, there ya go, she told herself. Ready to rock.
Standing on her parents’ porch, she pressed one hand to her churning stomach, said a little prayer and knocked.
She didn’t recognize the housekeeper who answered, but followed her meekly down the hall. When they passed the French doors where she’d had her confrontation with Blake, she almost tripped over her own Jimmy Choos. Why’d he have to show up last night? Her eyes filled again, both fury and hurt making her want to hit something. It was like Cinderella at the ball, watching her prince turn into a rabid toad.
No. She clenched her fist around the strap of her purse and took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to think about Blake. All weaknesses, all worries, all distractions had to be ignored. Because eggs Benedict and mango aside, this was war.
“Mother,” she greeted. Then, her fingers only trembling a little, she smiled at the admiral. “Father. Good morning.”
“Alexia,” her mother exclaimed. The older woman was perfectly made up. Her hair was more golden, like Michael’s, than red like her daughter’s, and fell in a smooth swing around a wrinkle-free face that didn’t show a single sign of her late night. Ever the perfect hostess, she indicated to the housekeeper to bring in another plate even as she rose to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Lovely?” her father derided, snapping his newspaper shut and slapping it onto the table. He gave Alexia a dark look. “I had higher expectations of your moving back here, young lady.”
For a second, just one sparkling bright second, Alexia’s heart melted. He’d wanted her back? He’d anticipated her return?
“And this is how you behave now you’re here? By insulting me and my guest?”
Silly heart, she chided, sliding into a chair and setting her purse at her feet to give herself time to blink away the unexpected tears.
“I’m sorry you saw it as an insult,” she apologized when she looked up, her words sincere. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
She’d promised herself when she’d moved back to San Diego that she’d handle her relationship with her parents in a mature, dignified fashion. No hiding, no avoiding, no drama.
“I’m sure Alexia had a good reason for leaving,” Margaret chimed in, irritation giving an extra snap to her words. “Let it be, Elliot. She’s only been home a week, probably hasn’t even unpacked yet. The last thing she needs right now is to worry about a relationship.”
The tension ratcheting down a notch, Alexia gave her mother a grateful smile. It’d been rare growing up that their mother sided against their father. Allies must present a united front, after all.
“We’ll have dinner next weekend,” Margaret continued, gesturing to Alexia to have some fruit. “Just a quiet little get-together. You can invite the lieutenant then, Elliot.”
Alexia’s shoulders sagged. She fisted the
crisp white fabric of her skirt between her fingers to keep from banging them on the table. She specialized in communication. Why could she never get through to her parents?
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she tried again, calling on patience. “But I’m not interested in dating Lieutenant Landon. Not last night, not next week. Not ever.”
“That’s ridiculous,” her father stated. “He’s a fine young man. A great career ahead of him. You’re just being stubborn out of habit.”
“No. I’m trying to be clear. I’ve just moved to town and, as Mother said, haven’t even unpacked yet. I start a new job tomorrow, one that’s going to take all my focus and concentration. I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”
At least, not anymore. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. Yesterday, she’d been wide-open to the idea.
“Speaking of that job,” the admiral said, propping his elbows on the table and giving her a steely look. “I’d like for you to meet with the head of the Dillard Institute next week. They have an opening for an acoustical engineer. Now that you have top-level clearance, you’d qualify just fine.”
“I have a job already. One I moved across the country for.” Stress did a grinding little twist in her gut as Alexia realized that her walking out the night before was only the opening salvo to her father’s list of issues. He had a whole arsenal of complaints to shoot her way.
Her father waved away her objection. “You’ll need to change jobs. Did you see today’s paper? There’s a write-up about you and that sex-research grant in there. It’s completely unacceptable.”
Unacceptable. How often had she heard that over the years? Closing her eyes, Alexia tried to breathe past the knot in her chest. Why had she expected things to change?
“Are you paying attention, young lady?”
He never used her name. Maybe he didn’t know it. All her life, she’d been young lady. And for this, she was making herself ill? Worrying herself into misery, all while apologizing for making an adult choice in a matter that was completely her decision?
Alexia opened her eyes, lifted her napkin from her lap and set it on the table next to her plate. She gave her mother, then her father, a distant smile and got to her feet.
