The SEAL's Promise (Safehouse Security)

by Grace Alexander

  Then without a word, he headed toward the bathroom, stretching his arms high overhead, making every muscle from his neck down to his back strain against his shirt.

  Her lungs hurt, and only then did she realize she forgot to breathe. Tessa busied herself on the bed, trying to avoid thoughts of how his body was of the caliber action movie heroes aspired to attain. She tried to ignore him when he leaned over the bathroom sink, twisted the faucet on, and covered his face. After the second splash of water, she knew she couldn't ignore him. Her nerves grew as Drake let the water run. Steam rose from the sink, and he hinged at the waist, folding his arms and resting them on the bathroom counter.

  Uh-oh. That wasn't a good stance.

  Then, Drake dropped his head and let it hang. The dim, flickering bathroom light didn't hide his ominous mood change, and Tessa suddenly wanted to curl into a ball until she disappeared.

  His stance betrayed his sudden silence, and she sensed his regret. For what? She didn't know. It couldn't have been over the interactions with their attackers. That left…her. Her stomach dropped. He'd gone hot and cold on her before. That'd been far beyond uncomfortable, and she hadn't expected the change then, just as she didn't now. Tessa bit her lip. What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  She dropped her gaze and studied the thread-worn carpet. Maybe he realized he was stuck with her until Virginia, and that she was nothing like a woman he wanted to spend time with.

  Her fists bunched, aggravated as herself that she let self-pity crept into her subconscious. She shouldn't worry about him! He was the tough guy. The only thing she needed to do or say was sorry about your luck, Rambo. After all, he'd been the one to point out the saving grace of sarcasm.

  "Why are you here with me, Tessa?" His head still hung over the running water.

  "What?" Her eyes narrowed. "Well, I couldn't exactly ignore you when you first—"

  "Not then. Now. Still." He tilted his head toward her, raking his eyes across her face. "Why would you sit in here with me?"

  Oh, for goodness sake. Now Drake didn't want her sitting so close, eyeing him like she'd been all night. She hid her embarrassment and pressed her lips flat. "Don't worry about me."

  "Just tell me. I'm not going to—"

  She rolled her eyes and tried not to feel the hot sear of disappointment. "I'm not going to get a crush on my hero."

  "Come on, Tessa. That's not what I meant." He looked mad - or was that annoyance?

  "Well then, Drake, what did you mean?" Sarcasm wasn't her friend right now, but she needed it to protect her from herself.

  "I meant, why haven't you called the cops? Why are you okay with everything that's happened so far? Asking why you're here wasn't supposed to be an inquisition until you made it one."

  Enough of his interrogation retreat. He knew the answer. There was one reason he was so sure she'd go with him, forcefully or not, in the first place.

  "I told you. It was my client's dying request."

  "No. That's not an acceptable excuse, and you know it."

  "All right. Several people are trying to kill me. Bullets whizzed over my head earlier. I don't want to be stuffed in a trunk again. Is that acceptable?"

  "Nope." His eyes danced, and he raised an eyebrow.

  "So, what do you want me to say?" Why was he pushing her? "You'll do a better job protecting me than the cops could, and I don't have to explain how I came across a secret government document. Does that work for you?"

  "You've got serious walls built around you, doll. You know that?"

  Oh yeah, she knew. Years studying psychology had clued her in. But all the money spent on higher education didn't matter. She'd known since grade school that parents messed up kids, and that a bad home life was a severe detriment for normal emotional health.

  Walls were a concession for never finding a magical cure. But that was okay. She'd done just fine with her closely guarded psyche.

  Well, that was the truth until Drake somehow broke through all her barriers. She needed to build those up again. Fast.

  "I'm a realist. A pragmatist. You're a rough and tumble kind of man. I can tell. And I guess I've been carried away."

  "You've got it all wrong."

  She scoffed.

  "You don't even know it, do you?" he asked.

  "There's nothing to get wrong."

  He laughed. "You know what's funny?"

  "Nothing."

  "That you're worried about me. I can see it in your eyes. How you act. But the truth is, you're the deceptive one."

  "Excuse me?"

  He laughed then hung his head back down, facing into the sink. "You look one way. You act another. You say one thing, but I can see your mind running. What you say isn't what you think."

  "You have no idea what I am doing or thinking!"

  He smirked. "Doll, I know the deceptive type."

  "I cannot believe you're calling me deceptive."

  He righted himself, smirk still in place. "That's cool if that's how you want to play it."

  "I'm not even going to dignify your accusations."

  "I didn't say it was a bad thing." His half-smile made her stomach rocket into her throat. The man dripped testosterone.

  Tessa flushed, remembering their embrace on the side of the road and how his arm had wrapped around her. Still carried away in the moment, it seems.

  "You're just as triggered up as I am."

  She rolled her eyes. "Excuse me if I don't speak your tough-guy lingo." Though there was only one way to translate triggered up, and that was attracted and interested.

  "You want the same thing I want."

  She didn't know what she wanted!

  "But." He paused, studying her. "You don't know it."

  No way, uh-uh. He couldn't read her mind and pique her interest! She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of the truth, and even as her stomach knotted, she decided there would never be a time when she'd share secrets with him again. "Who's psychoanalyzing who now?"

  He grinned as though she'd made his point. "You can study me at any time, any place. Haven't I made that clear?"

  She blushed, which infuriated her. Her body was betraying her. She needed it to stop reacting to him. "Leave me alone."

  "Do you ever lay the truth on the line? Or give honest answers?" He toweled off his face. "When it comes to you, to Tessa, not your work or your clients, are you ever sincere about what you want?"

  There was no denying that she felt something toward him, but it didn't matter. Adrenaline. Chemicals. Hormones. They were all addictive. And they were deceptive, not her.

  She could psychoanalyze this…their behavior, their glances, and the oppressing emotion that tugged at the edge of her consciousness, but she didn't want to.

  He turned the shower on, and she expected he'd close the door on her any moment now. She earned a door slam. She was being standoffish at best and … waspish and rude at worst. And there wasn't a reason for it, other than to ignore how she reacted toward him.

  Maybe she needed a shower too. Not just to wash off, but to calm down. Steaming hot water would wash away her bitterness and confusion.

  Drake strode toward her, and his hands clasped her shoulder. "Let's go."

  She jumped back, smacking his hand. "I'm going nowhere."

  His eyes flared, and a hard-line set to his jaw. "No shower? Fine. Let's go." He turned for the door.

  She didn't want to leave either. What was wrong with her? "Wait."

  Drake abruptly stopped. "Woman, you have major defensive walls."

  Tessa bit her lip instead of lying about how wrong he was.

  He crossed his thick arms. "You've gotta work on that."

  "Says the big guy with guns who leads a secret life." She tossed her hands out. "I don't have to work on anything!"

  "And all I did was offer you a shower to relax." He walked back toward the bed until he stopped at her knees. "You can't even say yes to that."

  "Of course I can
," she whispered.

  Drake hooked his forearms under hers, dangling her above the carpet. Her stomach flipped as he walked into the bathroom, put her down. "You could've explained yourself better."

  "Which time," he joked even as tension strained in his neck.

  Her cheeks heated as the steamy shower called her name. Her thoughts jumbled and skittered as she tried to explain what she'd assumed and felt and how nothing made sense. No words came out.

  The steam swirled around the bathroom, and he tilted his head toward the raining water. "You get in, I'll head out." He glanced away, then cleared his throat. "Relax, all right? We're both keyed up."

  Still, even as the spray of the hot water called to her, but she didn't move, and neither did he.

  He tossed his thumb toward the door and gave her a look hotter than the scorching stream filling the small room. Dark stubble. Dark eyes. A dangerous scar under his eye. Drake McKay was a triple threat before he even opened his mouth.

  "Okay," she whispered.

  Then he was gone, and the moments between him leaving and her standing, stuck in place, seemed to move slowly. And she could see herself standing there as though the room were a mirage—a daydream, or maybe a nightmare of what she wanted but couldn't, or shouldn't, have.

  Tessa turned to the steam-covered mirror. "What is happening?"

  But the mirror didn't answer. She wouldn't either. Not out loud or even to herself.

  Tessa stepped into the hot shower. Water sprayed around her head as she shivered, surrounded by heat, thinking of Drake McKay. He was a delicious, enticing risk that she wondered if she could take.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tessa finished her shower and dried off, distracted by the man on the other side of the door. Maybe he simply fled the room as quickly as he'd arrived into her life. Tessa let her hand rest on the doorknob, summoning the courage to open the door. Honestly, she didn't know what she'd hoped to find on the other side, and her reflective time in the shower, relaxing, and wondering, hadn't clued her into what she hoped might happen.

  Drake sat on the edge of the bed and stood as she stepped out, wrapped modestly with a towel secured around her chest and tied around her hair. The corners of his mouth quirked into a soft smile as though he, too, wasn't sure what was on the other side of the door.

  But here she was, in all of her toweled glory. "Hi."

  "That was quick."

  "Was it?" She hadn't noticed even though she'd spent contemplative time trying to decipher what her feelings meant.

  "Did you relax?"

  She chortled. "About as much as can be expected."

  "Fair enough." He extended his hand, directing her from the threshold of the door that seemed to offer more stability than stepping into the motel room.

  Tessa studied his hand when he gestured, and his rough and calloused skin had likely weathered much worse situations than the one she found herself in. That gave her a new kind of comfort. She knew he could keep her safe, but his powerful hands showed the experience if she had any doubt.

  And, oh the doubt she'd had. Where she'd been sarcastic and standoffish, Drake was honest and contemplative. Those weren't the attributes that she knew of him, yet they made perfect sense. He was waging and winning an emotional battle that he likely didn't even realize was happening. Without questioning him again, she stepped from the bathroom but ignored where he'd directed her, walking the small distance toward him.

  His dark eyes narrowed, and she didn't understand the pull to be close to him. But there she was, finally standing in front of this giant brute of a warrior. His chin tilted up, eyes imploring for a request she couldn't put into words. Drake lifted his arms and pressed her against his chest. He wrapped her in a protective hug, and Tessa took a deep breath. She hadn't realized how tight her chest had been until he wrapped her protectively in his arms.

  The towel in her hair tilted to the side, falling to the floor. Drake pressed his chin pressed on top of her head. "That's it. Take a breath."

  Her deep breaths were shaky at best, and she clung to him, not caring if there wasn't an immediate threat. She simply needed him to surround her.

  "That's my girl." He rocked them, swaying as though he were hushing her worries away with a lullaby only a Navy SEAL could conjure.

  Tessa gathered herself and inched back from his hold. He swept stray hairs off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  "Sorry about that."

  "Did it seem like I minded?" he asked.

  "No." But wasn't that her problem?

  "I…" He pursed his lips as she took another step back, giving herself plenty of room, but she couldn't tear her gaze from his.

  "I should get dressed," she offered.

  "And I don't want to walk away from you." His words cracked into the tensed room, shooting sparks down her spine as though he'd slid his fingers over her skin.

  Her mind raced at the thought of their touch. She wondered how it might feel to touch his cheeks and caress Drake's rough facial stubble. Would the coarse hairs scrape against her palm? She wanted to explore where the stubble ended, melting into the bare skin of his neck.

  But instead, she balked, jerking back and refusing to meet his eyes any longer.

  His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

  With one long, powerful stride, he eased by her, and a wicked chill ran across her skin. The faint scent sandalwood and amber hung close, and the humidity from the bathroom dissipated when he shut the door.

  Alone. All she wanted to see—to feel, smell, and sense—was Drake McKay. And she was lost in the wonder of him. Deliriously, completely lost as to why they'd been thrown together and how they'd become so entangled in such a short amount of time.

  It took Drake a fraction of the time to get in and out of the shower as it did Tessa. He didn't step out in a towel. He'd re-dressed, leaving her to feel foolish as she'd wondered and daydreamed.

  "What's so serious?" he asked, mistaking her embarrassment for something more contemplative.

  Tessa crossed her arms protectively across her chest. "It's adrenaline."

  "What is?"

  "This… whatever this…" Feeling? Attraction? What could she call this tension? "Me and you." Ugh, for an intelligent woman, she couldn't string a sentence together to save her life. "This isn't this how you normally relax after a day at work?"

  A smile cracked on his hard, chiseled face. "What, exactly, are you talking about?"

  "This."

  "This, what?" he asked, amused with himself.

  Her cheeks heated, and Tessa's chest felt tight. "Never mind."

  "Just when you start to relax, you get all keyed up again. I already told you I don't get stressed."

  "Everyone gets stressed." And stress wasn't her problem! It was the close proximity with someone that she shouldn't be drawn to in a crazy situation like this.

  "If you're going to keep psychoanalyzing me."

  "I'm not—"

  "Whatever you want to call it. Making educated guesses about what makes me tick. Fine. Go on. Build self-protective walls. Practice your frigid glares."

  "I am not frigid."

  "Doll, do whatever you want because I can blow through them. Promise."

  Her pulse catapulted. He wasn't stressed. He was thinking about them. Just like she was! Even so, she could get hurt. They were opposites. Their situation was unreal. He couldn't be the trustworthy, protective savior she'd found herself unable to ignore.

  "Tessa, say something."

  "This is how you relax. Right?"

  "What are you talking about?" Drake nodded to the shower. "Washing off? No. I don't need to—"

  "I'm simply trying not to get lost…" Her voice cracked, and she continued in such a hushed whisper that she wasn't sure he could hear her as she finished, "In this moment."

  "Spending time with a beautiful woman isn't how I relax." He closed the distance between them. "And I'm doing something very wrong if you don'
t get lost when I look at you."

  Awareness tingled at the back of her neck. "Drake—"

  "If you're thinking about anything besides why I met you, what could be, then I've got work to do."

  "I am thinking about us." From the curl of his words to the imploring interest in his steely gaze, Drake made her feel pangs in her heart she wasn't comfortable with.

  "Maybe you're overthinking this."

  "How would you know?"

  "Maybe I can just tell."

  She shook her head, turning away. "What, you're some kind of mind reader too?"

  "I think you're holding onto something, somewhere."

  "So what if I am," she whispered, wondering how he could read the thoughts that she didn't want to acknowledge.

  "Let it go, Tessa."

  Her face jerked toward him at the way he said her name. "Like that's so easy."

  "All you have to do is trust me. Like earlier. Unravel from whatever has tied you in knots."

  Her lips pressed together. He knew all the right things to say. All the right ways to get her attention. She didn't want to trust this man! He had guns and traded in violence! Or maybe he was simply a protector. Her protector…

  "Look, let me be honest with you," he said.

  Her heart trembled for many reasons. The same reasons that made her mind fuzzy when she said, "Please."

  "I don't hang out with women after an op went wrong. I don't ask about their feelings or hope they relax."

  "Then, what are you doing?"

  He smiled, and she knew he wasn't going to give her the kind of answer she'd wished for. "I'm flying blind here, babe, and I don't know what I'm doing." His deep eyes narrowed, and the smile faded. "But I'm doing it for you."

  Oh no. Not what she expected. Not at all, and that kind of honesty was far beyond anything she could've guessed. She tried to keep an even keel to her breathing.

  "You trusted me before," he added.

  Did she? Tessa bit her lip. Remembering their embrace on the side of the exit ramp made her flush.