“Tate, whose brain works that way—so much so, that she’s made a career out of it?” Lyla wondered softly. Then she raised her hands and pointedly cracked her knuckles.
It was their secret signal. She hadn’t mentioned love, though, had she? Only…attraction?
Tate had already known that Lyla was attracted to him, of course, and it was a weak excuse for love, but suddenly it felt like something he could work with. If Lyla still wanted him to make love to her, then maybe Tate could make her love him, as well.
Eventually.
He stared at Lyla as his mind spun. His sluggish synapses were finally starting to drop pieces into the larger puzzle, and Lyla must have seen the glimmer of sense returning to his eyes.
She nodded. It was hesitant, almost imperceptible—but Tate had spent weeks learning how to interpret her every move. To him, that nod was clear as a bell.
Slowly, he leaned toward her, giving her plenty of time to reject him. He made a show of swiping past a few pages on the phone gripped in his hand and even glanced at a page, but he couldn’t focus on a word. Tate could only see Lyla’s beautiful eyes looking back at him.
She was beginning to look faintly alarmed, however. He’d better make this quick.
“Let’s see,” Tate murmured. “I think I know what comes next, here.” He tossed his phone on the end table and edged closer still. “Probably had it memorized before you even wrote it.”
Lyla wrung her hands together. “Are you afraid I made you look bad in the book? I didn’t intend to.”
He had to laugh at that. “Sweetheart, you made me look like a damn hero. Larger than life, even though I don’t deserve it. You only shortchanged yourself.”
Tate was inches away now, crowding Lyla toward the armrest behind her. When her back hit the pillows, she swallowed and whispered, “You don’t see what I see.”
How could his heart not go soft at that? He’d wanted to be a hero for her, and he’d blown it, but Lyla didn’t seem to care. She was still looking at him like he hung the moon, and that meant maybe Tate would get another chance to show her he could be what she needed.
Tate would be anything and everything Lyla needed if she’d let him.
“All I can see is you,” he said.
He rested one arm on the couch next to her and trailed his other hand through her slightly-damp, mahogany hair. It felt like silk, cool and smooth.
“How come you never called?” she asked him. “It hurt, Tate.”
He was a big, asinine dunderhead, but he still nuzzled under the sweep of her hair to find the warmth of Lyla’s neck, exposed so delectably by her pretty gown. When his lips met her skin, Lyla shivered, just like she’d always done before.
“How come you never told me how you felt?” he countered.
“Are you joking?” she laughed, but it was a sound without much humor. “It would’ve been pointless. I couldn’t exactly ask you to carry on some long-distance thing with me when you were so anxious to leave, and besides—you’d already told me you didn’t do that. What about me—”
Lyla gestured wildly to herself, narrowly missing Tate but managing to crack her knuckles against a nearby lamp in the process.
She winced, but finished, “—would convince a guy like you to stay here?” She blurted it out as if that one sentence encompassed a myriad of unsuitable things about her.
Tate smiled. Lord, she was even cute when she was klutzy, and Lyla’s vulnerability at that moment made this whole undertaking seem crazily possible, all of a sudden.
He moved his lips up her throat and came to stop near her ear. “Everything. Everything I always wanted in a woman and could never find. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. But I still tried to make myself walk away. I tried to make myself leave you because you deserve so much more than some washed-up soldier with no future.”
Tate exhaled heavily, the weight of that statement bearing down on him. Lovey-dovey feelings were all fine and dandy, but if he couldn’t take care of his woman…then what good was he going to be to her?
Lyla’s expression was sympathetic, though. Her hand crept along his waist and slipped up his back, and Tate pressed closer, a sucker for her touch every time.
What he actually needed, of course, was to be kissing her, and beyond that, to be buried deep inside her, so far that neither of them knew where one ended and the other began.
Tate’s throat closed. He lost his train of thought. He went instantly hard, remembering how good those things were between them.
However, he had to push distractions like that aside for now, or he was liable to find himself tossed right back out into that soulless hallway before he won this battle. Tate couldn’t bear that so soon after reuniting with her again.
Lyla’s hands framed his face, and he looked down at her. Her voice only quavered a little when she said, “What I deserve is you.”
She took in a big lungful of air that pressed her breasts against his chest, then dropped her hands to his shoulders. Tate tried mightily not to get sidetracked by all the enticing sensations winding around him.
Lyla went on, “I never thought you’d see that book. That was why I agreed to let them release it so soon. You told me you never read fiction. I thought it would be safe.”
Tate examined her closely. Lyla seemed embarrassed that he’d discovered her secret, but was she ashamed because she’d taken the skeleton of their relationship and dressed it up to sell some books—or because she’d meant every lovelorn word and thought he was here to give her a hard time about it?
In some dusty corner of his brain, he recognized that he ought to give the poor woman some space until they sorted this out. However, now that he had her in his arms again, he couldn’t seem to let her go. So much for self-control. Where Lyla was concerned, Tate had none.
She said softly, “The only way I could be brave enough to give us a happily-ever-after, was because I thought I wouldn’t ever have to face your…” she chuckled that same, oddly mirthless laugh, “…I don’t know. Amusement? Teasing? I can’t believe you actually read it, Tate! I’m going to kill Red.”
For some reason, Lyla’s dismay tickled the hell out of him, so Tate planted a happy little kiss on the tip of her nose. He scooped her up in his arms and pulled her back into his lap, smiling widely. His plan was actually going to work.
Lyla’s face looked as dejected as his must have earlier, but she still wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. So sweet, but so put-out that she’d had to admit she wanted Tate for more than his horizontal boogie skills.
They were both complete numskulls, but strangely, the fact gave him hope.
“Slick, why exactly do you think I’m here?” he asked her.
“Pride?” she guessed. “Your enormous ego? Because I took your huge freaking ego and turned it into a book?” Her jaw jutted out sullenly.
Now, Tate was definitely amused. “Say I’m huge again,” he told her.
Lyla whacked him on the arm.
“You’re not even close, Einstein,” he explained. “Review, if you will, everything I’ve said since I got here, and see if you can figure this out.” It sure had taken him long enough to catch on, but Tate was confident she’d get it faster.
Lyla scowled darkly at him. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s okay, take your time. I’ll wait here.”
She blinked at him. A furrow dug in between her brows, her nose crinkled right over the bridge, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. Lyla was a sexy study in piqued concentration, and Tate wanted to kiss her senseless even more than he had before.
“You…” she accused finally. “You…”
“All caught up now?” he inquired cheerfully. “Good.”
Lyla rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and that was a start.
“Lest there be any misunderstanding,” he said, “I’m in love with you, Lyla. Wholly and completely.”
“You are?”
“I really am. Y
ou are warm and sweet and beautiful, and I want to hold you close every day for the rest of our lives, even if you make me eat a lot of those big portobello mushrooms.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lyla breathed, burying her face in his neck and jabbing him in the throat with the corner of her glasses. She did it again when she raised her head a second later. “Tate—I am wildly, crazily, totally in love with you, too.”
“I am very, very happy to hear that.”
“But how do we do this? You told me yourself that you hate long-distance relationships. Are you going to stay in Ohio? Or move here?”
“For you, I would make long-distance work. But you don’t have to worry, sweetheart. There will be nothing long-distance about you and me.”
Lyla looked cautious but hopeful. “How do you figure?”
“Well, there’s good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”
“The good. Duh.”
“You’re looking at Manhattan’s newest resident.”
She gaped at him. “That’s awesome. And the bad?”
“I might be a teensy bit homeless and unemployed for a bit. But who cares, right?” Tate laughed shakily. “Jobs have got to be a dime a dozen in this town.” At least, he prayed they would be—if he had to, he’d fucking wash dishes, though, just to be close to her.
Lyla squealed and hugged him tightly. “You’re moving here? You’re really moving here?”
“I really am.”
“But what about the Army? Are they going to put you on desk work until your discharge goes through?” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. They better have given you benefits. I forgot to ask.”
“Lyla, it’s all good. I’m done, and the separation feels like it was on my terms. I’ll have medical benefits and a retirement stipend that will hold me over until I find something more permanent.”
“Still, I am so sorry you couldn’t help your friends with that mission they called about.”
“Don’t be. They can do it. And even though I didn’t want to admit it, it was time for me to get out and try something new. Meeting you just helped me see that it wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.”
Lyla’s eyes filled up, and she asked him, “Hey, did you hear the one about the badass who was in the right place at the right time?”
Damn, he couldn’t love this woman more. “It’s my favorite story,” Tate grinned.
“Mine, too.”
“You know what would make it even better?”
“Uh-uh.”
He gave her a long, leisurely kiss, then set her beside him on the sofa and slipped down onto one knee. “If the badass got to keep the girl forever.”
Lyla’s face went slack with shock, so Tate hurried to explain, “Hey, I know it’s soon, and we have a lot to figure out in the meantime. All you have to tell me now is whether, someday in the near future, you’d be okay with me getting into this position again, and doing it the right way—with with the proper bling, and all the romantic trimmings.”
“Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Always Prepared,” she protested. “Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t have this mapped out down to the second?”
“What can I say? I get carried away around you.”
“Yeah, right.”
Tate laughed up at her. “And now, we welcome Lyla Lawson, killer of book characters…and apparently moods, too. Welcome, Ms. Lawson.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, “It’s a pleasure to be here.”
“So…what do you say?”
Lyla bit her lip, then grinned from ear to ear. “I would be very okay with you doing this again someday.” She wrapped Tate in her arms, and murmured into his ear, “As long as it’s not too far in the future.”
“You have my word,” Tate said—and this time, nothing on earth would stop him from keeping it.
EPILOGUE
TATE KICKED BACK at Red and Piper’s reception, watching the women in colorful dresses swirl around the dance floor with their partners. Big band tunes were being played by the musicians tucked in the corner, and soon, he intended to get Lyla out there to take a turn or two with him.
They’d managed to get the happy couple hitched without any major snafus, but as Tate sat there with his arm around his woman, it didn’t feel as if Red was the king of the world tonight. It felt like Tate was.
Lyla was a vision in her sparkly, bronze-colored gown, and she’d been getting an abhorrent amount of appreciative male attention all damn day. But she was in love with him, and it felt like a lightning strike of the first order—as rare and stupendous as they came.
Now that Tate had found the kind of love he’d only ever heard about before, he never wanted to let a day go by without it. Therefore, he needed to get his shit together fast, so he could deserve this extraordinary woman, and keep her.
She’d already convinced him to move in with her and they were on the hunt for a bigger place, but Tate still needed a real job to keep him busy, and to lay the groundwork for their future together.
To that end, he’d had a crazy idea in the middle of the night last night.
Now was as good a time as any to see what Lyla thought of it. It would impact her life as much as his and getting a new business off the ground could be hard. Tate might have to work some long hours in the beginning, and some really weird hours if it was actually successful.
“Hey, Slick?” he asked her. “What if, instead of looking for the perfect job for months on end, I just…created my own?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. I’m not the only guy getting out of the service with an interesting skill set. There are probably a lot of other veterans in the same position. Unfortunately, there are probably also a lot of people out there who could use our services.”
“You mean as bodyguards?” Lyla wondered.
Tate had considered that, but he thought he could reach higher. “I was thinking more…high-level security.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why do I get the impression you’re not talking about mall cops?”
“Because I meant things like hostage rescues and stuff. Government contracting, maybe.”
“Tate—that sounds dangerous.”
“You’re right. It would be. But I’d be really selective about what kind of jobs we took, and I’d take every possible precaution to keep the team safe.”
“Wouldn’t you need to outfit them? You’d need…what, like guns and ammunition, and gear and stuff, right?”
“All that. And ideally, I’d like to set up a home base of sorts, too. I have some cash socked away, so if I find a big enough piece of land somewhere out of the way, I could potentially do it there.”
“Wow,” Lyla breathed. “That’s a big deal.”
Tate agreed. “It is, which is why I want to make sure we’re both completely on board before I do anything. I might already have a couple of early investors in Red and Luca. I mentioned it in passing to them at Red’s stag party and they wanted to help. But I won’t take any steps until I know you’re okay with it.”
“And if I’m not?” she asked.
“Then I’ll find something else.”
Lyla’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Something else means the same kind of work with another security firm, clearly. So, you’d be in danger, either way.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Tate told her. “Right now, it feels like a good fit for me. The best of both worlds—a home life, plus the parts I enjoyed about the military.”
“But what about your head?” Lyla spread her napkin on the table and began pleating it into a fan.
“Well, that’s the beauty of this, I think. If it’s my firm, I don’t necessarily have to go out on all the jobs. I can stay or go depending on how I feel.”
“Hmm.”
“You were prepared to make it work if I stayed in the service, weren’t you?” he asked, picking up her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “This is no worse than that. In fact, it�
�s better, because I’d be calling the shots. I won’t have to wait on some egghead in D.C. to tell me whether to stay or go or pull the trigger.”
Lyla chewed on her lip. “I know you’d be terrific at it, Tate. I just don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t. Not for a long time.” He held her gaze, trying to communicate how much he meant it.
“Bold promises,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Tempt fate much?”
“Listen, life’s a long string of unpredictability. I could get CTE, or you could get hit by a car. One of us could get cancer. We could have a kid who gets cancer.” Tate hated saying those words, but he had to put it out there.
“Or how about none of that.”
“Or none of that, God willing. It’s impossible for us to know what the future holds.”
“True enough. I sure as hell never saw you coming,” Lyla said, winking saucily at him.
“You can see me coming whenever you want,” Tate growled into her ear. “And we’ll deal with whatever else comes our way, too, I promise. But this thing—this could be a great thing for me, Slick. For us.”
“I know,” she conceded, then straightened her shoulders. “So, do it. We shouldn’t decide based on things that might not happen. We’ll hope for the best, and prepare for the worst, just like you said.”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course. So, let’s start at the beginning. Do you have a name picked out yet?”
As a matter of fact, he did. “How does Black Watch sound?”
“Like hell’s a-coming.”
“You better believe it.”
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