“This.” He pointed a finger, alternating between the two of them. “This is the kind of conversations I remember having with you when we were growing up. That’s why I don’t think of you as a romantic, a dreamer, an idealist, even.”
She lifted her chin. “Yeah, well, I’m working on Zandra version 2.0, and nothing’s going to stop me from getting where I want to go in life.”
“Zandra 2.0, huh? Is that, like, an upgrade?”
“More like a reboot. And this time, I’m going to do what I want.” She stared at him. “What about you? Why are you here?”
“Like, now? On a train with you to Stuttgart? Or something more metaphysical like, why do I exist? Because if it’s the latter, it might take me a while to come up with an answer.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why did you come when Jackson couldn’t?”
Good question, but hardly one he’d answer with, “Because your brother made me.” It was far more complicated than that. “Like Jackson, I believe in you, in supporting your dreams as you reach for them with both hands.” It was true. Even if Jackson hadn’t volun-told him, there was a fairly good chance Blake would’ve stepped up anyway.
Of course, that was before he realized just how strong the pull toward Zandra would be.
“Tina’s calling the shots for her life, not conforming to what’s expected, but living life on her terms. She did it when she moved to Chicago and again when she decided to marry John now instead of waiting the way her parents wanted her to.”
Blake didn’t know about any of that stuff, but he did know one thing: Tina’s move to Chicago gave her and John the best chance to make their relationship work. He knew from watching his Army buddies that military life was hard, even if a spouse moved to where a soldier was posted. But to try and carry on a long-distance relationship? Well, he didn’t have any stats on that, but he was willing to believe that a relationship was more likely to fail than thrive.
She stared out the window. “Tina’s the one who inspired all this,” she said softly. “The one who made me realize that there would never be the ‘perfect’ time to chase my dreams, especially where my parents are concerned.”
Blake sat up straighter then shifted in his seat. He had his own opinions about the York parents, but now probably wasn’t the time to bring them up. “That why you quit?”
She faced him, an eyebrow raised. “Thank you for acknowledging that, and yes, that’s why I quit their accounting company.” Zandra slumped against the seat. “Honestly, sometimes I feel so ungrateful, you know? Like my parents had done so much for me, had given me such a head start, and here I am thumbing my nose at it, at them.”
Whoa. He might’ve agreed with her, but what would be the point? Besides, this was getting way too deep. He cleared his throat. “The important thing is that you’re doing what you want, not what’s expected of you.”
“Are you?” She focused her baby blue eyes on him and waited expectantly.
“Am I what?”
“Doing what you want? Is the Army all that there is for you?”
“No.”
“Care to expand that thought?”
“No.” This time he yawned and folded his arms across his chest, his backpack securely tucked between him and the side of the train. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me when we get to Stuttgart.”
The last thing he wanted to do was get too close, too intimate, to anyone. Even a gorgeous blonde who had the guts to go after her dream, consequences be damned. One day, it’d be his turn. Blake just had to bide his time.
Chapter Five
Zandra blinked as the hotel clerk’s words sank in, because of course she’d forgotten her brother had made the reservations after telling her not to worry about it. But since Jackson wasn’t here, she was now sharing an extended stay room with Blake?
“That’s not possible,” she said for about the eighth time. “We can’t stay in the same room together.”
While she wouldn’t have minded her brother sleeping on the sofa, she definitely minded that Blake would be there instead.
The older man glanced between the two of them. “We do have another room still available.” He tapped on his computer keyboard then told them the cost.
Zandra rubbed her eyes and shook her head to clear it. Her funds were limited since the e-zine didn’t give her much of an advance and had a cap on how much she’d be reimbursed. “I can’t afford that,” she said, blowing out a breath. It sucked to admit it, but it was the truth.
Great. Just. Great. She could almost see her mom’s I-told-you-so face staring at her, followed by her father’s what-were-you-thinking one. So far, this European adventure wasn’t turning out quite the way Zandra had expected.
Blake chuckled beside her. “You’re just afraid you can’t keep your hands off me,” he said, pulling out his wallet.
She slowly turned her head to face him. “The hell I can’t.” She could, couldn’t she? She could share a room with Blake and keep her hands—and her body—to herself.
He grinned. “You still sleep in those princess shorts?”
“Oh my God. You remember that?” She felt her face heat. “It’s been at least ten years.”
“Maybe so, but something like that’s hard to forget.” He winked.
It’d been the middle of the night. Blake and her brother were home on winter break. She’d made a bathroom run at the same time Blake had, and by the time she’d stopped gaping at his bare chest, she realized he’d done his fair share of looking at her, too.
“My mom bought those for me. If it weren’t for the fact that I hadn’t gotten around to doing my laundry, I wouldn’t have—” Zandra propped her hands on her hips and blew out a breath. Oh, brother. Why was she even trying to explain herself? That was more than ten years ago.
“For what it’s worth, your legs are still perfect.”
His quietly whispered words drifted toward her, and she quickly glanced up and caught his powerful gaze. It was as if he reached across the short distance between them and lightly caressed her, a cascade of tingles tumbling through her system.
Then, as if he’d realized what he’d said, Blake stepped back, opened up his wallet, and cleared his throat. He slapped a credit card on the counter. “I’ll get my own room.”
Zandra reached out and grabbed the card before the hotel clerk could take it. “Not so fast. What makes you think you’re God’s gift to a sane woman? I wouldn’t know what your track record is with women—and not that I care, honestly—but I know that I most definitely am not tempted to”—she looked around them, noted the relatively empty foyer, and leaned forward—“go there.” She straightened and held his gaze. “You can sleep on the couch.”
“What if I want the bed?” he countered. “You willing to give that up?”
Zandra was tempted to call in the “be a gentleman” card, but she’d fought so hard for an equal chance to prove she could do the kinds of things her brother had been allowed to do. Blake knew it, and there was no way she was walking back her claim to save herself from some discomfort.
Damn him.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t lay down terms of her own. “Tell you what.” She leaned a hip against the reception desk and ignored the clerk who undoubtedly was watching their exchange with morbid curiosity. “I’ll give you an opportunity to switch places. How’s that?”
“An ‘opportunity,’ huh? What exactly does that mean?”
“It means just that—do a little something extra as my assistant, and we’ll call the switch a bonus for a job well done.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. She searched her brain for some sort of a solution, something that wouldn’t make her look prissy or weak because no way in hell was she either of those things.
“Okay.” Blake took his credit card from between her fingers. “You’re on.”
“De
al.”
Even as she said the word, Zandra had a sneaking suspicion it would be harder than she’d thought.
…
Blake switched on the room light and stepped aside to let Zandra pass, her floral scent trailing behind her.
God, she fucking smelled good, too. He must be some special kind of dumb to not have insisted on his own room.
Of course, bringing up the night he’d seen her with a skimpy pair of shorts and see-through top wasn’t a good idea. But did his brain hear that? Hell no. It went with what his dick was thinking instead.
Stupid dick.
She set her crossbody bag on the bed. “This will work.”
He let the door close and followed her in.
Remember the mission.
The mission. Right. He had to get her to her photo shoots, he had to keep her safe, and he had to get her home. That was his job. And after the way someone was able to easily take her camera lens from her, it was probably a really good idea not to let Zandra out of his sight.
The woman in question had pulled out her phone again and was taking a quick video of the room. Did people actually find this stuff interesting?
He dropped his backpack by the couch and glanced at the small kitchen. “Want some food? I can grab something from the corner store.”
“Ummm…sure. I guess.”
She licked her lips as she typed out something on her phone, and his gaze was drawn to the slow sweep of her tongue, to the way it gently glided over full, red lips. Damn, he needed air. Fast.
He was at the door in two strides. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled in? I’ll get us something for tonight and breakfast tomorrow.” Because even the sorry excuse of a kitchen was reason enough to keep his hands and his brain busy.
Chapter Six
Zandra stared at the closing door and took a deep breath. What just happened? Not only did Blake morph into the hottest guy she’d ever seen, but they still got each other the way they used to. Like back before he went off to college and totally ignored her. Which was fine at the time, but now…
Her brain kicked into gear. Busy. Zandra needed to stay busy or she ran the risk of jumping Blake, which wouldn’t be the best way to start her assignment. You know, the one her whole future depended on?
Which was why she’d tossed her phone onto the bed without even reading her notifications, quickly unpacked her bags, then made a beeline for the shower.
By the time she’d pulled the bathroom door open in a swirl of steam, she knew Blake was back. The delicious smells coming from the kitchen were a dead giveaway, and her stomach grumbled. When was the last time she’d eaten anything that wasn’t pre-packaged with an airline logo on it? The margaritas she’d had at the bachelorette party the night before she left didn’t count, either. Unfortunately.
She glanced down at her nightshirt. For bumming around the hotel room with her brother, it was no big deal. With her brother’s best friend, well… She let out a breath. On Jackson’s advice, she’d kept her wardrobe to a minimum, which meant there wasn’t even a pair of shorts she could wear with it, and she sure wasn’t putting on a pair of jeans, either.
Screw it. The nightshirt was almost as long as the T-shirt dress she’d worn on the trip over. She’d live.
She towel-dried her hair as she walked toward the kitchen, considered styling it, and immediately squashed the thought. What was she thinking? This was Blake. Bothersome, overprotective, pain-in-the-butt Blake. The same guy who was here out of obligation, nothing more.
Still, her mouth watered when she rounded the corner, and it wasn’t just what he was cooking, but it was Blake himself. He stood by the stove, one hand whisking up something in a bowl, while the other hand slowly poured a stream of oil into it.
Strange how the frilly apron didn’t detract from the pure maleness of the man who wore it. His magnetism seemed to reach out to her, taunting her into wondering if she’d survive the night with him on the couch just a few feet away.
He turned. “Hey. Do you still drink hot chocolate?”
“Only if there are marshmallows in it.”
“Some things never change.” He grinned and reached for a mug. “Fortunately for you, I remembered and picked some up. Give me a sec to heat up some milk.”
Aw, that was cute. He’d remembered she liked marshmallows. She stepped into the room as he set a small pot on the stove. “Where did you learn to cook?”
That was good. Cooking was a neutral subject. A good subject. Evocative of substances that nourished the body in the same way that a kiss had the power to nourish the soul.
Good God, that’s cheesy. Zandra rolled her eyes at her own observation and continued to towel her hair.
“Learned as soon as I could hold a knife,” he said, opening the oven door and reaching for something in it. “It was a way I could help my mom when she worked late. This looks like it’s done. Hope you like eggs.”
Zandra blinked at the skillet he set on the stovetop. “A frittata is a bit more complicated than just eggs.”
He shrugged. “They’re still just eggs to me. I learned different ways to prepare them since we always had eggs in the house.”
“No kidding.” She stepped closer. “This looks amazing. Are those spinach leaves? And mushrooms? And cheese?”
He wiped his hand on a towel and threw her a quick glance. “Not just any cheese, blue cheese.”
Zandra’s stomach grumbled in approval. “My favorite.” She searched the counter behind him.
“I know. There’s extra in the fridge.”
She blinked. He remembered she liked blue cheese, too? And not only had he remembered, he’d put it in the dinner he’d made and even had a little extra for her to nibble on later. A tide of warmth started in her chest and emanated out. Was he always this sweet and she hadn’t noticed?
For the love of all things holy, it was just marshmallows and cheese.
Chastising herself, she headed back to the bathroom to hang up her towel then stared at her reflection. “Remember why you’re here. The assignment, your future, depends on this trip.”
Right.
Besides, Blake wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted in her life. Just like their names, they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. He couldn’t understand her creativity, and she’d lived the straight-arrow boring life already. It wasn’t for her ever again.
She finally had the freedom to do life on her terms, and she had a lot of time to make up. “That does not include a guy.” Even one as yummy and unexpectedly thoughtful as Blake.
She blinked as her cell phone rang beside her, and practically jumped on the thing like she was afraid it’d get away.
“Jackson. Finally,” she said, plugging in her earbuds.
“Hey. Guess you know I’m not there.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious. You could’ve told me before, given me some sort of warning.”
“Like you’d have agreed to it.” He snorted.
Well, what was she supposed to say to that? Thanks?
“Listen, Squirt, I support you as best I can. You know that.”
“I know.” She leaned a hip against the bathroom counter.
“You’re talented. You’ve got what it takes to make it as a photojournalist.”
“Wish Mom and Dad could see that.” Even now, pain mixed with a sense of defiance, which was silly. This was her life, not theirs.
“They just worry about you, that’s all.”
“So they don’t worry about you?”
He chuckled. “You know better than that.”
But they’d been supportive of Jackson, didn’t insist that he join the family business the way they’d pressured Zandra. Thank goodness she’d gathered enough courage to go on her own anyway, even if it did take a couple years longer than she’d have liked.
“No d
oubt you’ve had it harder, Squirt, and I get that you want to do things on your own. But you’ve never traveled to Europe. That’s why Blake’s there.”
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
“Just treat him the way you’d treat me.”
“Like a pain in the ass big brother?”
“Exactly.”
Her brain immediately transported her back to earlier, to their time in front of the reception desk, to the smoldering look and the zap of electricity that snared her.
Treat Blake like a brother? She cast a glance his direction. Even with his back to her, the guy was hot, frilly apron and all.
No way could she remotely think of him as a brother.
But she somehow had to.
She straightened and reached for a bottle of body lotion. The e-zine would get stellar photos from her, photos that would have them paying a huge bonus and begging to promote her to staff member instead of just a freelancer. There’d be even better assignments, bigger assignments, ones that would take her all over the world.
Come to think of it, Flights and Sights wasn’t the only e-zine around, even though they were by far the largest. Still, she might be able to further her career by branching out and working for other publications. And if things worked out right, maybe, just maybe, Zandra would prove to her parents sooner, rather than later, that she was more than capable of making a viable living as a photographer.
After all, she could run her own life, thank you very much.
There was something really weird about making dinner for Zandra. Weird, but…right. Like, somehow, in this space and time Blake was doing exactly what he was meant to do.
He turned the oven off and shoved the rolls in to warm up. Topped with some sweet butter, they’d be perfect with the frittata. At least, he kinda hoped Zandra would see it that way. Did she eat things with butter these days? Some of the women he knew would rather eat cardboard than real food. Was Zandra one of them?
That was the other weird thing. Since when did he care what Zandra thought?
Seduced by the Soldier Page 3