by Low, Gennita
“Daddy does that to Mommy, sometimes.” The sound of a child’s voice had them both freezing.
Hawk broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his cheeks flushed. He looked toward the door leading out onto the deck. “I bet.” He shifted putting some space between his lower body and hers.
Zoe stifled a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. At least the counter had blocked from view what else had been going on. She turned to look over her shoulder at seven-year-old Tad, the oldest of the Marks children. His red-blond hair, still wet from the pool, stood on end, but there was nothing in his expression that warranted concern.
“Mommy said the burgers were ready when you were.”
Ready? Her face and ears burned with embarrassment.
Hawk’s gaze dropped to hers, amusement in his expression. “Tell your mom, we’ll be right there, Tad.”
The door shut behind the boy.
Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Zoe turned her back to Hawk. “I was supposed to be slicing tomatoes and onions for the burgers.” He pressed against her from behind, and her legs went rubbery. The soft warmth of his lips against the back of her neck sent delightful shivers down her spine.
“I’ll slice the tomatoes, while you do the onions.” He gathered three tomatoes in one hand and moved to the sink.
His touch lingered on her skin and she had to concentrate on slowing her breathing. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Let me guess, aside from the smell, you just don’t want me to see you cry.”
“Sweetheart, I almost did when Tad opened that door.”
*
With two plates of food, one for him and the other for Zoe, Hawk settled in one of the deck chairs next to Marjorie Allen, Derrick Armstrong’s girlfriend. Derrick leaned forward to look around the woman at Hawk. “How’s the knee, LT?”
“Healing. The doc’s given me permission to do a little lifting with it. I thought I’d start tomorrow.”
Derrick nodded. “If you need someone to spot you, I’m available in the mornings. I usually start my routine around five.”
Hawk nodded, his gaze wandering to Zoe as she dried off one of the children at the pool. Her leg might benefit from lifting weights, too, but not if Derrick were around to watch her. “I appreciate the offer Strong Man, but I’ll have to take it easy at first. Sometimes having a partner tempts you into competing. I don’t want to overdo it, and then have to start healing all over again.”
Derrick waved a hand. “Understood.”
Zoe limped over to join them, and Hawk rose to move a lawn chair next to his. He watched the quick rise of color in her cheeks as she sat down. God, all that shy, suppressed sexuality was driving him crazy. Especially when every time he looked at her, her eyes were saying everything she was thinking. And everything she was thinking seemed pretty hot. Had Tad not interrupted them, how much further would she have allowed him to go?
Bowie pulled a chair up next to Zoe and sat down.
What had he meant by the cryptic remark he had made to Zoe in the kitchen? He had obviously been trying to get her to go out with him.
Again.
It had taken all Hawk’s control to keep from ripping into him. Until he drew a firm line in the sand, the other guys in the team would continue to put the move on her.
Hawk ran a hand down Zoe’s back, and she looked up at him. He was suddenly aware of how often he had avoided touching her. That was going to stop right now. He tucked a short wisp of hair that curled against her cheek behind her ear. “I forgot to get us some drinks. I’ll be right back.”
When he returned Bowie was leaning close to Zoe, saying something. Hawk placed the drinks on the table and draped a casual arm over her shoulders as he leaned forward to listen to their conversation.
“How’s Cutter doing?” Strongman asked.
Damn the man had no sense of timing at all. He’d hoped Zoe could have one afternoon away from the stress of her brother’s condition. Hawk’s gaze narrowed on him, but Derrick seemed oblivious to the look.
“He’s about the same.”
Derrick nodded. “I was thinking about the time we did our first blast. He was the best at skydiving. He had nerves of steel. I swear he could jump out of a plane a foot off the deck and still have time to pull the rip-cord and float to the ground.”
“He’s going to come back to it,” Zoe said, her features stiff, her gaze locked on Derrick.
Derrick’s cheeks grew red. His eyes took on a flat look as stony as his features. “Yeah, he is.”
Tension blanketed the atmosphere at the table like smoke. Bowie jumped into the lull and began describing his first parachute jump.
“Anyway, my knees are knocking and I’ve got bats in my belly, and I get to the door of the plane. LT’s standing there ready to follow us out once the last man jumps. I’m thinking of everything that can go wrong and going over every moment of my training, hoping I can remember it all if something does. I look out the door, and all I can see is open space, and it looks beautiful. The air is clear and the ground looks like a patchwork quilt. LT motions for me to go, and before I can think of any reason not to, I yell Geronimo and jump.”
Flash leaned forward to speak down the table. “I thought I was at a remake of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You know the scene where they jump off the cliff. I heard you yelling all the way down, or at least until you deployed your chute. And it didn’t sound anything like Geronimo to me.”
Laughter broke out around the table. Bowie narrowed his eyes at the man, though he laughed good-naturedly at his ribbing. “Those were whoops of excitement, you were hearing, Flash. Besides, I’m surprised you could hear anything above your own whimpering. You weren’t exactly icy.”
A deep flush darkened Flash’s tanned complexion, and for a moment, his features tightened, then he smiled. “Damn straight. Jumping out of a plane three thousand feet in the air still isn’t one of my favorite things to do. Give me a tank of air and drop my ass in the ocean, and I’m ready.”
“Hooyah.” The word traveled around the table.
Bowie turned back to Zoe. “On the way down, it was great. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. You could see for miles and there was just this high, excitement high, as you deployed your chute and glided down.”
“I think I’d like to try it one day.” Zoe took a bite of potato salad.
Surprised by the conviction in her tone, Hawk studied her expression.
Bowie’s gaze moved from Hawk’s hand resting on her shoulder to his face. “LT would be the one to take you up. He’s probably got more jumps under his belt than the rest of us put together.”
Zoe’s attention swung to him.
His insides clenched at the idea of her jumping out of a plane. He had experienced some harrowing moments in the past, not that he’d ever share them with her. “I jump out of planes because it’s part of my job, Zoe. I’ve never thought of doing it for pleasure.”
“It’s really expensive unless you’re part of a sky diving group,” Marjorie said. “One of the girls I work with is a member of a club. She and her boyfriend do it on the weekends. They spend every dime they can get their hands on to pay for it. Hang gliding might be an option though. You can rent the gliders while you train, and find out if you like it well enough to buy your own.”
“Or what about parasailing?” Trish said. “You can do that any time and it’s only about eighty dollars.”
Hawk jumped at the idea. “What do you say, Zoe? We could do that this weekend.”
Her expression grew shuttered, and she bit her bottom lip.
The muscles at the back of his neck tightened. He could almost read what was going through her head. She’d have to wear a swimsuit, and he’d be able to see her leg. How would they ever make love if she was afraid of his reaction to the injury? He didn’t give a damn what it looked like. Her leg only made up a small part of who she was. Come on, trust me, Zoe. He wanted to say the words out loud.
“I’d love to do it.”
“I can’t leave Brett all day.”
“Half a day, then.”
She smiled.
Yes! He had her now.
“All right. Half a day.”
She’d have five whole days to think about it. Five days to change her mind. Five days to worry about her leg and his reaction to it. Damn! He had to get Zoe out of her pants.
*
From her perch atop the picnic table on the deck, Zoe observed Derrick Armstrong as, resting a hand against Marjorie’s waist; he guided her to his car. For most of the evening following her comment at dinner, he’d remained sullen and silent. She should have left it alone and not said anything. But the men were giving up on Brett. Derrick had already done so. She could tell by the way he always referred to him in the past tense.
Bowie, Flash, and Doc were better about it, but the way their eyes met whenever Brett’s name came up in conversation—They didn’t believe he’d come out of the coma.
Did Hawk feel the same?
She’d never ask him. She couldn’t. She was holding onto her own positive outlook by her fingernails. She couldn’t allow anyone’s negativity to tear chunks out of her hope.
She turned her gaze back to the friendly backyard volleyball game. Flash served the volleyball and Langley went up for a return as it spun toward him.
Hawk’s hand brushing downward over her back to her waist snapped her attention to him. His muscular thigh pressed along hers making her think about how he had thrust it between her legs and encouraged her to rock against it.
He’d touched her more during dinner than he had the entire time she’d been staying at his house. With every stroke of his palm he primed her hunger for more and her anxiety.
“Ready to go home?” Hawk asked.
Twenty minutes later, Zoe’s nerves kicked in with a vengeance as they reached the midway point to Hawk’s house. She cast surreptitious glances at him from beneath her lashes and tried to calm her uncontrollable heartbeat and unsteady breathing. What had she said to him about making love? Oh yeah—she’d do it when she wanted to. But he would too. She wanted it—wanted it so-o-o-o bad, but she was scared too. If he saw her leg, her scars—
Hawk’s hand closed around hers. “Relax, Zoe.”
She swallowed though her mouth was dust dry. She clung to his hand with both of hers and wished the bucket seats would allow her to slide closer.
“We don’t have to rush anything,” Hawk said.
He had been so patient, had taken things so slowly thus far—“It isn’t that,” she said, her tone weak.
“What is it then?”
“Have you ever wanted something you—” her voice dwindled away. If she said she was scared to death he’d misunderstand.
“That last step is hard. I know. I wanted to be a SEAL before I signed the scholarship papers for college. But once I graduated, knowing what a commitment it was—it was hard to take that last step.” He glanced at her. “I’m ready when you decide you are. But we don’t have to be in a rush. Part of the excitement of being a couple is learning about each other.”
Her throat tightened. Why had she ever been afraid? “I wanted to be a dancer before the accident. I was taking tap and ballet and had fallen in love with it. I had movies of Baryshnikov, Natalia Makarova, and several others. Daddy had put up a bar and mirror for me in the garage.” She smiled at the bittersweet memory. He had danced with her. He’d be Fred Astaire and she’d be Ginger Rodgers. At the time, she hadn’t known who they were, but the fact that he had tried to share a little of her dream—
Hawk’s fingers tightened around hers and she looked up. His features had gone completely still with control.
“It’s all right. It was just a little girl’s dream. The chances that I’d have been good enough to dance with a ballet troop were slim. I love my job. I love seeing someone walk when they don’t believed they ever will. I help people rebuild a part of the life they’ve lost. I think that’s more important than being on stage.”
“Hooyah!”
That one word said it all.
Her nerves had receded completely when they pulled into the driveway at the house. Hawk held her hand as they went up the front steps. He released it to unlock the front door. He held it open and motioned for her to enter first. Just over the threshold her shoe snagged something and she stumbled. A loud whomp filled the enclosed space with a force that pounded her eardrums. At the same time, a flash of intense light seared her retina. Startled, she cried out. Hawk shoved her down and his large body covered hers driving the air from her lungs. The acrid smell of smoke filled the first breath she drew.
“Stay down,” he ordered, his tone harsh with command. He jumped up, his movements cautious and quick, and disappeared down the dark hall.
Zoe raised her head to look between the couch and chair and scan the room. White spots filled her vision but cleared quickly. A small blaze flickered in the center of the area rug in the living room. With every second that passed it grew brighter. She staggered to her feet and looked about for something with which to smother the flames. She jerked free one of the window curtains, threw it over the fire, and stomped on it. Puffs of smoke rose from beneath the fabric. The heat of the blaze penetrated her thin shoes.
Hawk appeared from the back of the house, a gun in one hand a fire extinguisher in the other. “The house is clear.” He tucked the gun in the back waistband of his shorts, flipped the curtain aside, and sprayed it with the foam. His expression appeared calm but the quick way his gaze scanned the room, watchful and keen, gave her an idea of how he might behave in battle.
“What was this?” she asked.
“A stun grenade. We call them flash bangs. This one’s been modified otherwise all my windows would have been blown out.” He pushed aside the scorched fabric of the curtain baring a two foot wide burn in the center of the rug that went all the way to the hard wood floor beneath. He bent to run his hand under a thin wire and followed it to the door. “This is a trip wire. It was set up to go off as soon as someone hit it.”
Zoe sucked in a harsh breath. “Why would anyone do this?”
He remained silent a moment. He pointed to a watercolor seascape over the couch. The black words printed on the glass stood out against the muted background like slashes. It read ‘leave it alone’. The words sent prickles of shock and fear along her skin. She began to tremble.
The sound of police sirens screamed from down the street. Hawk removed the gun from his waistband and, pulling open a drawer of the table by the door, placed it inside. He reached up and swung the picture down to lay it behind a chair.
“We have to convince the San Diego police this was a prank, Zoe. There are too many things I can’t tell them. I think they’ll want to call in NCIS if they discover this involved real explosives.”
“Then let them. Maybe we’ll finally discover what’s going on.” The idea brought a wave of relief so strong it eased some of her trembling.
“And what if it’s something Brett’s gotten tangled up in?”
Zoe studied his expression for a long moment. Was he really willing to overlook having his house set on fire? What if whoever it was escalated to blowing the place up? Was his loyalty to his Naval family so strong? God, did she even need to ask that? “Why are you protecting them?”’
“Because we need to keep this in the family, and deal with it in house. For all we know, I’m protecting your brother, too.”
She caught her breath as anger flashed through her. Brett wouldn’t be involved in anything illegal. She was certain of it. “What do you think he could have seen or done to cause this?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
He was blocking her out again. First with his refusal to discuss his meeting at the shooting range, and now with this. Resentment burned through her patience. “We, Hawk. We, not I
. If my brother’s involved, so am I.”
A police cruiser screeched to a halt outside. Out of the corner of Zoe’s eye, she caught the flash of the lights atop the vehicle. She ignored it. “If I’m going to lie to protect them, you’re letting me in. Or I’m going to tell the police everything and let the fur fly.”
His features tightened and his gray eyes went flat with anger. “I don’t respond well to threats.”
“And I don’t respond well to being shut out when it affects someone I love.” Was she talking about Brett or him? God, she was wading through emotional quicksand and was sinking fast.
Footsteps sounded on the porch and a harsh rap came at the door. “All right,” Hawk said, his tone grudging, sharp. “We’ll talk later.”
“Good. And by the way, Bowie says we need to talk to Derrick.”
As he worked that out, she jerked open the door and prepared to lie.
Chapter Eleven
‡
Hawk stretched on the bed and stifled a yawn. He glanced at the clock. It read O eight hundred. Water running somewhere in the house sounded like distant rain. Obviously, Zoe was already up.
His jaw tightened as the scene the night before played through his head. It had taken an hour to convince the two patrolmen that it had been a prank and not something more lethal. The experience had left him with an itchy feeling of guilt he hadn’t done a damn thing to earn. The raw edgy mood of the night before came roaring back with a vengeance. Zoe’d had the same look the night before.
God damn it. Why did she have to be so insistent on knowing everything? She didn’t understand that he owed his loyalty to his men. And did she want to understand the military point of view as to information about those men? No. Stubborn—
He drew a deep breath. The smell of smoke lingering throughout the house sent a spike of anger racing through him again. When he found out who was responsible for this, he was going to rip his head off and stuff it down his fucking throat. That it was one of his own men seemed impossible. A growl, part frustration, part anger tore loose.
