Ever since you ran into her in the middle of the night in those painfully short princess bottoms and practically non-existent tank top.
Four years separated them, and by the time he’d left for college, she’d been sixteen, little more than jailbait. Add to that that she was his best friend’s little sister…well, it was a no-brainer that night.
So now here he was: twelve years later and still wondering what her body looked like underneath the skimpy clothing she chose to wear tonight.
He frowned. Didn’t she bring any sweats? The way she moved in the oversize T-shirt was as damned sexy as the short shirt-dress thing she’d had on earlier. Trouble was, in this moment, watching Zandra move around the cramped room as she talked with her brother? Well…it was evocative of cozy evenings at home, maybe even watching TV after dinner. The kind of stuff he’d like to have in his life one day down the road.
And that wasn’t the kind of life Zandra had planned. Where he wanted to settle down one day, she wanted to take photographs—all over the world. Which basically meant she wanted to live out of a suitcase. He was so done with living out of a duffel bag now. And he still had a couple more years to go.
Blake pulled two plates out of a cupboard and brought them to the small table with the lone bulb hanging over it.
He had to pull himself together and nix any thoughts of cozy evenings with Zandra. He glanced at her as she chatted on the phone and smothered lotion on her long legs.
Damn it.
Blake turned around and headed back to the frittata. Some way, somehow, he had to figure out how to keep his emotions in check and his brain in gear. For Zandra’s good as well as his own.
Chapter Seven
“Is it possible to be jet-lagged and excited at the same time?”
Camera in hand, Zandra stared outside the train window at the passing scenery of green fields and clusters of trees that dotted the Swiss countryside. And to think they were in Stuttgart just a couple of hours ago. Clearly her brother’s suggestion to base out of the German city had been a good one.
It was yet another example of how different their lives were. They might’ve started out with the same kind of childhood, but he’d clearly broken free and explored the world far more than she had. And so had Blake.
She adjusted the shutter speed and aperture then looked through the viewfinder, the train’s movement naturally panning the shot as she snapped a photo of a farmhouse in the distance.
She was in Switzerland. Joy bubbled up inside her so hard and fast, she barely contained it. She was in Switzerland on her first real assignment. Freakin’ Switzerland.
“Isn’t this amazing?”
“I suppose,” Blake said from beside her.
She set the camera on her lap. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Neither can I,” he muttered.
She frowned at him. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you sleep well last night?” Come to think of it, he’d been pretty quiet since they’d gotten on the train.
“I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, slid her a sideways glance, then looked away.
O-kay, then. Whatever he was dealing with was his problem, not hers. She stared out the window again. “Pinch me.”
“You sure you want me to do that? I will, you know.”
She turned, but there was no way she could muster up a frown. “This is just so freakin’ cool!”
“Glad to see you’re happy.” Blake stretched his arms overhead, the movement emphasizing the way his T-shirt molded onto what were obviously perfectly formed pecs.
She tore her gaze from him and thumbed the window. “Let me guess. Gorgeous countrysides bore you.”
He shrugged. “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen everything there is.”
She frowned. “You mean you’re more concerned with protecting your backpack than looking at all this beauty? You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
She huffed out a breath. This. This was the perfect example of why they couldn’t be together, even a little. Not only was he mercurial with his moods, she couldn’t see herself with a guy who could be bored with all the world had to share. No way. Not happening.
He pulled his ball cap over his eyes then hugged his backpack to his chest as if mocking her. “I’m taking a nap.”
“Great.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll put up another post.”
He pushed the cap back up. “Instagram again?”
“You make it sound like I’ve spent the whole trip on social media.”
“You kinda have.”
“Au contraire, wise ass. I’ve only done one live at the airport yesterday, before you showed up, and a handful of stories.” No posts. Which meant she was due for one sooner rather than later.
“Now, now, watch your language. That’s not the kind of talk fitting for an up-and-coming world famous photographer.”
“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to social media.”
“I just don’t think you need to advertise who you are. Let your work speak for itself.”
“Oh, you terribly misinformed individual. That’s not how the world operates these days. Success means engaging your followers so they’ll continue to support your work. And if you’re lucky, a huge e-zine like Flights and Sights will re-post your stories so you end up with even more followers.” Zandra shifted. “Aren’t you on Instagram?”
He shook his head. “No reason to be.”
“Facebook?”
“No.”
“Twitter?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no.” He straightened and rearranged his Seahawks ball cap. “Look, I’m a soldier. I train Special Forces. Believe me, I don’t need to advertise that.”
That made sense. “Yeah, well, at least you get to pursue your dream.”
“Working on it.”
“Working on it?” Zandra frowned. That was a weird response. “Didn’t you always want to be in the Army? At least, that’s what Jackson said when he’d made the decision to enlist with you.”
“Working on it,” he repeated.
Clearly that topic was off-limits. Maybe time for another tactic. After all, if they were spending a lot of time together, didn’t it make sense that she got to know him better?
“Did your mom raise you all by herself? I don’t remember you talking about your dad. Or any other male figure for that matter.”
“Twenty questions? Really?” He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the phone in her hand. “I thought you were doing a post.”
She tucked the phone into a pocket of her backpack. “I just think it’s really weird that I don’t know all that much about you,” she said, settling into her seat.
“Why would you?”
The question hung between them, and along with it an un-nameable…something. She swallowed and thought back to those years when Blake and Jackson first became friends. Sure, all three of them had laughed a lot and played pranks on each other. While she’d noticed him, he hadn’t registered as anyone other than her brother’s sidekick.
“We’re four years apart, Zandra. By the time I’d left for college, you were starting your sophomore year and more into watching guys like Sean Devereaux play football.”
Oh, yes, Sean Devereaux. Her teenaged hormones had zoned in on the 6’1” guy as soon as she’d seen him in a football jersey. “You remember that?”
“Pfft. He helped us win games. How could I forget?”
There was something he wasn’t saying, something important, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but was there nonetheless. “Yeah, well, I hear he’s practicing law at his father’s firm now.”
“Good for him.”
Zandra shrugged. “I suppose it’s only natural to follow in a parent’s footsteps.” Not that she thought it was natural. Why should she have her future ch
osen for her just because she was born into it?
“You’d be surprised.”
Something in his tone caught her attention. “Was your dad in the military, too?”
“Yeah, he was a soldier but got out of the Army about the time my sister Lily was born.” Blake blew out a breath. “Then he was killed a few months later defending a gas station attendant who was attacked by a bunch of thugs.” His voice was low and eerie enough to make Zandra shiver. “They never did prosecute the bastards.” He said it slowly, with a straight face and a matter-of-fact tone.
“That makes you around four when it happened.” She’d gone to school with Lily, but they were little more than acquaintances. Where Zandra was into fashion and boys, Lily was reserved, spending most her time reading.
“Something like that.” He stretched out his legs and nodded. “Fortunately, I had my grandfather around. That’s why we moved back to Seattle, so he could help out while my mom went to work.”
Zandra stared, tried to assimilate his words. Her own father drove her nuts, sure, but growing up without one? She couldn’t imagine it, didn’t want to imagine it. There was nothing she could say that didn’t sound like a platitude, so she opted for sincerity. “Sounds like it was a rough time.”
“It wasn’t ideal.” He shrugged. “But I wouldn’t be who I am today without having had that experience.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Wow. That’s kind of deep.”
He shrugged again but didn’t offer anything more.
Zandra stared at Blake’s profile, at the tilt of his chin and the way he turned and looked at her like she was the only other person in the train car. Just who was he, anyway?
The train slowed, signaling its entry into the next station, and Blake sat up. “Time to get off and switch trains.” He grabbed his backpack. “Let’s go.”
What would it take to get him to drop his guard for just a few hours? To loosen up just long enough to know what really, truly made Blake Monroe tick?
She had a feeling he’d fight tooth and nail to keep that from her.
Chapter Eight
Blake climbed a set of stairs at the crowded train station, his gaze focused on the back of a petite older woman’s gray head. He had no idea why he’d told Zandra that stuff about his dad, but the words were out before he could yank them back in. And now he felt vulnerable as hell.
He didn’t like feeling vulnerable. In his line of work, vulnerability got you killed.
Not that this was a life or death situation, but still. Zandra made him want to be vulnerable. That was extremely inconvenient with him already struggling to keep her at arm’s length.
Ahead of him, the older woman stumbled, her arms falling forward. Blake sprung into action, reaching out and grabbing onto both the older woman’s shoulders, gently bringing her back to a standing position. “Are you okay?” he asked her once she was steady. “Ganz langsam. Geht es Ihnen gut?” His German wasn’t that great, but he’d remembered a few phrases.
“Danke zu sagen. Thank you. I am fine,” the older woman supplied in perfect English. Given the part of the world they were in, he wasn’t surprised. He’d often seen shop workers flow from one European language to another as easily as the customers who shopped.
The older woman touched her head and smoothed out a section of hair that had unraveled from its bun. “You are very kind.”
“I am happy to help.”
The woman began her ascent up the last few steps, and Blake followed at a close but not invasive distance. Just in case.
It wasn’t until he reached the landing that he turned toward where Zandra was, just a few feet behind him on the top step. A corner of her full mouth tipped up in a smile as she stood there, the travelers climbing the stairs spilling around her, though she didn’t seem to notice.
He couldn’t help it. He adjusted his backpack and reached a hand out in silent invitation, the need to touch her, to hold her, to show her…something, anything meaningful overwhelming him to the point where he sucked in a deep breath. Damn, but it seemed hard to stay in control around her.
She extended her hand and grasped his, a reassuring smile on her face.
“You ready?” he asked with a slight squeeze of her hand.
Zandra simply nodded.
They said nothing more as they navigated the crowd, alone yet not alone in the sea of fellow travelers. Comfortable enough in the silence, their hands clasped together the only indication—a reassuring one—that they were in this thing together.
By the time they’d boarded the train and were settled in their seats, he’d deliberately let her hand go and forced his brain back to task. He didn’t want his moment of weakness, of needing to touch her, to give her the wrong impression.
“So, you were telling me about your grandfather,” she prompted as she reached for her camera bag.
You know, what he really ought to do was tell her it wasn’t any of her business or else keep his answers brief. But that need to spill his guts to her, specifically, was still running strong.
So why the hell not? Really, it was no different than being with a battle buddy, was it? Someone you trusted to have your back in the thick of things, someone who, in those dark moments, you trusted enough to share your secrets with…in case you didn’t make it back from a mission.
And while shooting photos in Europe was hardly close to a battle situation, the same principles applied. At least, that’s what Blake told himself.
“My grandfather helped raise me,” he finally said. Even after all this time, he felt his throat close, and he swallowed the dull ache away. “Mom was always trying to get me to sit still, but Gramps was the one who insisted I behave like a boy, doing all the normal stuff boys do.”
She scrunched her nose. “There’s no such thing.”
“Yeah, well, that was a different time. Fishing, hunting, boating. We did it all.” And every one of those excursions was a learning lesson so that Blake understood the value of self-control, of self-reliance, of self-belief. These became the building blocks of his Army life. Scratch that, of Blake’s whole life.
“What about your dad?” she gently asked. “Do you remember much about him?”
He thought long and hard, and tried to conjure up the memory of the only man he’d called “dad.” He didn’t remember much other than there was a lot of laughter when his dad was still alive. His mom hadn’t laughed much afterwards, and it’d only been in recent years—since she started college classes—that Blake had heard her deep-down laughter again. “Guess that’s what happens when you reach for your dreams,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Zandra’s quietly asked question broke through his thoughts, broke through the memories of those early days without his dad around.
“Nothing.” He pulled the ball cap off and shoved a hand through his hair. “I was just remembering something, that’s all.”
She studied him closely, like she was trying to figure him out. “Oh. Well, like you said earlier, you’re working to pursue your dream.”
“Some of us have that opportunity.” He shrugged again. “Others have to be patient, have to wait for something to open up for them, you know?” He sure as hell knew all about that one in spades.
“Sounds like you’ve got that part figured out.”
“Do any of us, really? We go through life doing the best we can with what we’ve got. At the end of the day, that’s all we can really do.”
“That’s for sure. Tell me something…” She drummed her fingers on the wood table between them and leaned forward. “Back there, with the little old lady, you do that kind of thing a lot?”
“Thing?”
“Help people out. Protect them. That kind of thing. You do that naturally, don’t you?”
Interesting. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess.”
A smile tugged at
the corner of her lips. “So you’re like the defender of the meek?”
Ha. He thought back to his last mission, the one before he’d been pulled to become a training specialist. Much as he hated to admit it, sometimes justice was best served at the end of a weapon, but he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—do that outside his role in the military. He would work within the constraints of the law.
“I’m more like a helper of those who need it.” Especially those the justice system had failed—like his mom.
Which was why he’d chosen to pursue a career as a prosecuting attorney once he got the chance. At the rate his mother was going, he’d begin before he knew it.
He. Could. Not. Wait.
Chapter Nine
Zandra stared out the window and past the railroad tracks to the train station beyond. They were one train stop away from Lucerne now, and it shouldn’t be too long before they were on their way again.
She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Maybe she should take a quick nap, get herself well rested before she started the shoot. But there was something niggling in the back of her brain, something that was running in the background as she’d negotiated the last twenty-four hours. Not that she could do anything about it. If there was any chance of pulling it out while wanting to pull it out, whatever it was would have to flow free on its own.
“You’re playing with your phone again,” Blake said. “Are you going to do another of those live things?”
He sat across from her, an uber-sexy, lazy grin on his face as he cocked his head to one side. The guy was hands-down hot, all right. How she’d not noticed that before was a ridiculous oversight on her part.
“No. Actually, I’m going to do a post and a story.” She searched her phone’s gallery and picked out a few choice photos from the selection of countryside, small towns, churches, and homes that lined the railroad tracks from Stuttgart. “There,” she said as she uploaded them to her feed.
She held the phone out and hit the video icon. “We’re on our way to Lucerne, but there’s been a slight change of plans.” She turned and panned the shot toward her companion. “This guy is now my travel buddy. Remember him from yesterday?” She switched the screen back and made a face. “Wish me luck.” Chuckling, she ended the video.
Seduced by the Soldier Page 4