by Cat Johnson
“Then you should ask for visitation.”
“Okay. Maybe I will.” He sighed and glanced up at Jen. “So that conversation was a downer. Sorry about that. Let’s move on. What about you? Boyfriend? Fiancé?”
Grant found himself very interested in her answer to his question.
She let out a laugh. “If you were looking to perk up the tone of the conversation that was the wrong topic to pick. I had a boyfriend, or so I thought, when I left for Africa. It wasn’t incredibly serious, but serious enough. Anyway, he didn’t approve of my going in the first place so he moved on. I found that out when I called yesterday to see if he wanted to get together now that I'm back. He told me he couldn't because he was seeing someone."
“He never let you know he was going to see other people or told you it was over between you two?” Grant asked.
Jen shook her head. “No, but in his defense I hadn’t been exactly accessible the past two months.”
No she hadn’t been. It took the FBI and Naval Special Warfare to find her. Still that didn’t mean her ex should have just moved on. And to tell her over the phone—that was almost as bad as leaving the news in an envelope in an empty house.
Yup, quite a pair they made. Both hurt by those they’d loved and messed up because of it.
“So here we are. A couple of clichés.” He glanced around them at the nearly deserted hotel bar. Grant wouldn’t have been surprised if housekeeping broke out a vacuum cleaner to clean up the carpet beneath their feet for the night. He snorted and added. “At least it’s an appropriate setting.”
They were down to the bartender and the couple necking in a dark corner as the only other people in the place.
Two newly dumped, newly single, lonely people in a bar in the middle of the night. In any other situation this would end with Grant and Jen on top of each other, making out like that couple.
No. More accurately the night would end with them in bed together, soothing each other’s shattered egos with a good old-fashioned one-night stand. Then they’d part ways in the morning with an embarrassed walk of shame and a promise to keep in touch that one or the other of them wouldn't keep.
But this was not that kind of situation. She was the survivor of a living nightmare. He was her rescuer sent in following a Presidential order, fulfilling a duty to his service and country.
That made them even being here together all sorts of wrong.
Too bad he hadn’t listened to that little voice in his head telling him not to sit down the moment he’d spotted her here.
Nope. Instead he’d asked if he could join her and ordered a drink—or two. He glanced down at his now empty glass, craving a third.
“Yeah, it does feel kind of pitiful. Do you want to come up to my room?” At her question, Grant’s eyes flew wide. Jen quickly continued, “The President sent me this huge welcome basket—and there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say—but anyway it’s got a bottle of champagne and all this fruit and cheese and crackers and chocolate.”
Don’t do it. Do not go back to this woman’s room.
The chant ran on a loop in his brain as she watched him for an answer, and he tried to follow what it said. He was feeling much too lonely and too vulnerable to be alone in a hotel room with a woman he found fascinating to the point of being irresistible.
Grant hesitated a second and then nodded, ignoring the voice that was now outright shouting in his head. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good. I can’t finish it all by myself. And my parents got one too so I can’t even share with them.”
He was a grown man. He could control his baser urges. Besides, if he got to know her better, no doubt they’d become friends.
Friends would be good.
“I think I can help you put a dent it that. And I won’t even rub it in that I did not get such a basket in my room from my own Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces.”
“No? That’s terrible. Now you definitely have to help me eat it. Fair is fair.” She smiled.
“I think you’re right.”
See, they were joking already like old pals. This was good. He could do this.
He’d taken care of their tab and the tip already when he’d ordered his second drink in case she tried to fight him about paying, so they were done there.
Grant stood. “Lead the way.”
No problem at all. Just two friends sharing some Presidential champagne and chocolate. Yup, even silently that sounded strange on many levels.
She stood as well and hit him with that smile of hers and his remaining resolve started to sputter.
Crap.
Chapter 12
Jen could count on one hand the number of times she’d had champagne in her life. At a couple of weddings for the official toast. Her parents’ thirtieth anniversary party. And like once, maybe twice on New Year’s Eve because usually she volunteered to be the designated driver so she had sparkling water instead.
But tonight, in the presence of the man who made her knees weak, she’d downed three glasses. Yes, they were small glasses and not filled all the way but still, the bubbly stuff packed a punch for something that looked so innocuous.
The only thing keeping her from feeling worse about it was that Grant had drank an equal amount.
Together they’d finished the bottle that Grant planted upside down in the ice bucket, proving it was officially empty before he came back and sat on the chair next to the sofa.
The room was nice. Kind of a suite even though it was one room. There was a furnished living room area so it didn’t feel like they were actually in her bedroom.
She glanced at Grant, embarrassed. “That stuff went right to my head.”
“Don’t feel bad. I heard it has something to do with the bubbles and the sugar content.”
“Good to know.” Though the knowledge didn’t do much to help her now.
He smiled. “You didn’t eat enough. I devoured half the cheese and almost all of the summer sausage and you ate a couple of grapes.”
“I’m still easing into eating again, I guess. I’m not sure summer sausage and a hunk of cheese would set too well on top of those chili cheese fries.”
“Which you only picked on. Here.” He reached and plucked a chocolate covered strawberry out of the basket on the table between them. “This will go down smooth, I’m sure. Open.”
He held it out to her. Her eyes locked onto his. She was just drunk enough—and the berry close enough to her mouth—she leaned in and bit off the tip of the berry he held between his fingers.
She saw him narrow his eyes before his gaze dropped to watch her lick the chocolate from her lips. He cussed, so softly she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been completely tuned in to Grant.
He cleared his throat and dropped the half bitten berry inside his empty glass. “You should try to get some sleep.”
She wasn’t going to let him get away. When he braced his palms on either side of him on the cushion, looking as if he was about to stand, she put her hand on his knee. “I’m not tired. You can stay. If you want to . . .”
Grant let out a short laugh, glancing down at her hand on his leg. “Yeah, I do want to. But that’s my problem not yours. Sleep, Jen. You need it.”
“I can’t sleep. When I do fall asleep I have nightmares. Then I wake up in a panic. It takes me a while to remember I’m safe.”
He drew in a breath and leaned back again. “Yeah, that’s to be expected, I’m afraid. I know what you’re going through. I’ve been through it before myself and I’ve seen it in others I've worked with.”
“So what do I do?”
“Having someone there with you helps sometimes. You know, not sleeping alone. Your subconscious will know you’re safe. It’ll let you relax.”
“Will you stay with me?”
Seeming pained by her question, he shook his head. “I really can’t. I shouldn’t.”
Can’t and shouldn’t were two very different things.
It was amazing, a
nd unexpected, and crazy, but if she wasn’t mistaken this incredible man was as interested in her as she was in him.
He just needed a little nudge.
“Please?” she said.
He looked torn by her request. She could see him wrestling with himself. The man versus the hero.
She hoped the man wanted her as much as she wanted him and he was only fighting that desire because the hero in him was being a gentleman.
Grant had already played the hero and saved her once. Tonight, she needed the man.
Finally, he said, “Okay.”
When she smiled he raised a brow. “Don’t make more of this than it is. I’m only doing this so you can get some sleep.”
She didn’t believe him but pretended she did. “Okay. Thank you.”
She stood, grabbed his hand and started for the bed.
He tugged her back. “Can’t you sleep on the sofa?”
“No. It’s too small and uncomfortable.” She pulled on his hand. “Come on. Clothes on, on top of the covers. Will that make you feel any better?”
“Yes. A little.”
They could start slow. She’d wear him down eventually.
She realized the champagne gave her a ton of confidence she didn’t have sober. She’d have to remember that for future.
They took their positions on their respective sides of the bed. Lying back, she stared at the ceiling. “I’m not going to be able to fall asleep.”
“Not while you’re talking you won’t. Shut your eyes.” He brushed a hand ever so lightly from her forehead down over her eyelids, to stop at her cheeks.
If he was trying to help her sleep with that move, it wasn’t going to work. The light touch of his hand on her sent her heart into overdrive.
“Closing my eyes isn’t going to magically make me sleep, Grant.” Not when images of what else they could be doing together in her bed played like a movie behind her closed eyelids.
“Fine. Then just rest here with your eyes shut. If you don’t fall asleep then you can say I told you so in the morning and I will gladly admit defeat.”
The morning.
Waking up with Grant beside her was something she definitely could be on board with.
Eyes still closed, she said, “Okay. But I’m really going to say it. I told you so, I mean.”
She felt his chuckle rumble the bed. That was the last thing she was conscious of.
Jen woke to a room bright with the lights Grant had left on. She wasn’t sure if he’d done that out of propriety or so she wouldn’t be scared.
She didn’t know how many hours she’d slept.
All she knew was, true to his word, Grant was still there with her. He hadn’t left her so she’d feel safe and could sleep. But he had fallen asleep too.
She could tell that from the slow steady rhythm of the deep breaths that had his chest rising and falling beneath the black shirt he wore.
He'd looked great in the Navy dress uniform he'd worn to the reception, but he looked very tempting in the khaki pants and collared knit shirt he'd worn to dinner and the bar tonight.
It made him seem more human. Accessible.
She repositioned her head on the pillow so she could see him better.
Lucky her, now as he slept unaware she could finally study the man who’d rescued her. The man whose face she hadn’t seen that night he'd gotten her to safety. Who she wouldn’t even have known the name of if the President hadn’t brought them together.
Details of him had been burned into her memory from that night, which is why there had been no doubt in her mind, even before she’d asked and he’d confirmed it, that he had been the one to carry her physically out of that camp. The one to go back for blankets so she wouldn’t be cold.
She would have recognized his voice anywhere. It was seared in her brain, a part of the horror that would never leave her, but he was the good part.
Grant was the end to the nightmare. The start of the future she never thought she’d get a chance to have.
“Are you watching me sleep?” His eyes were still closed as he spoke but his lips twitched with a smile.
“No.” Embarrassed, she was going to deny it, but when his eyes opened and the blue-green orbs crinkled in the corners with his smile, she couldn’t lie. “Yes. Maybe.”
“I’m glad you slept.” He peered past her at the clock on the nightstand. “I wish you’d slept a little longer but . . .”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Five."
Five was later than usual. She had been asleep long enough. How could she willingly be unconscious with Grant in her bed?
She felt awake. Refreshed. Alive. She wanted to feel more of all of those things and she knew the perfect way to do that.
Lifting up on one elbow, she leaned in closer, watching him as she neared.
“Jen, what are you doing?”
“I was planning on kissing you.” Now, she wasn’t so certain.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Because you’re not interested in me that way?” she asked.
Brad had dumped her hard. Grant would no doubt try to let her down easy. Either way, rejection sucked.
“That’s not it.”
He wasn’t rejecting her. He was interested. She moved in closer.
“Jen.” He stopped her forward motion with that one word. “I saved you. That’s going to bring up a lot of feelings in you. Feelings you might confuse with something else.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”
“Maybe you should talk about it in your therapy session.”
“I stopped going to those.” As Jen thought about it, the question had her frowning. “And how do you know I was in therapy anyway?”
“It’s protocol in situations like yours.” His eyes never waivered from hers until he squeezed them shut and shook his head. When he opened them again, he said, “That’s not the complete truth. I also accessed your file before I left Virginia.”
He was checking up on her? Why? Because he was worried about her?
That had to mean something. She smiled. “You did?”
“I wouldn’t look so pleased about that, if I were you. I abused my security clearance to spy on how you were doing. That’s like stalker behavior.” Grant scowled.
“Is that something you always do? Stalk the people you rescue?”
He drew in a breath and let it out. “No. Never. I apologize. It was way out of line.”
“No. Don’t apologize.”
“Don’t let me off easy, Jen. I was very wrong. And me being here now . . . All of this is wrong.”
“No, it’s not. It means you care.”
“Yes, I care.” He drew in and blew out a breath.
“So let me get this straight. Your caring about me is normal and okay, but when I care about you it’s some sort of hero worship syndrome I need to talk to a therapist about?”
He laughed. “I never said my feelings for you are normal or okay. They most definitely are not either of those things. I’m supposed to do my job without emotion. With no feelings. And then move on.”
“It’s okay with me that you didn't do what you normally do.”
“It’s not okay with me. I’m not supposed to have any feelings for you or anybody else connected with the job. I can’t. It’s dangerous—”
“Grant. Stop. You’re not a machine. You’re a man.”
A man with feelings. For her. Even if he was fighting them. She raised up and hovered near his mouth.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” She paused, giving him a chance to argue further.
He didn’t. Eyes narrowed, he didn’t wait any longer. He crashed his mouth against hers.
The man who’d taken charge of her rescue was back and he’d taken complete control of their kiss.
And damn was it a good kiss.
He put everything into it as he moved over her, pressing her between the bed and his hard muscul
ar bulk.
His tongue breached her lips and she melted.
Nothing had ever felt so good. With Grant over her, she felt sheltered. Protected.
Those thoughts gave her pause, even cutting through the haze of pleasure from his kiss.
Was he right about what he’d said? Was this some kind of hero worship? Were all these feelings her just mixing up gratitude and the need for protection with sexual attraction?
She didn’t want him to be right, because God, how she wanted him. All of him. And she was willing to give him all of her in exchange, if only he’d accept it from her.
The warmth of his tongue stroked against hers and she groaned. He echoed the sound and pressed closer.
The weight of his bulk created the most exquisite confines she’d ever experienced. Innately she knew she could sleep beneath him every night and never have a bad dream again.
Breathless, he pulled away and dropped his forehead to rest against hers. “We shouldn’t do this. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
She felt the hard length of him outlined beneath the fabric of the khaki pants. It was proof that no matter how he tried to fight it, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Confused, Jen frowned. “Why not?”
“I signed the divorce papers, but they’re not filed. They’re not even in the mail to her lawyer. They’re sitting in my room. Technically, I’m still married.”
Technically, his wife was a bitch and a coward who’d waited for him to be away before she moved out and stole his dog, but Jen kept that opinion to herself.
She sighed. “I guess it’s better anyway. My parents are right next door.”
Not to mention that whether she believed it or not, his stupid theory had already invaded her mind and unsettled her.
She glanced from the connecting door back to Grant, finding him wide-eyed with his mouth open.
“Jeez, Jen. That would have been good to know before this. And yeah, that definitely decides that.” He kept his voice low and shot a glance at the same door she probably should have thought to lock as he pulled his arm from around her and stood.
He was probably right about that. Judging by just the intensity of their kiss, if things had gone further with Grant it could have gotten loud.
