How humiliating. Harry and Ellen and Mike were keeping pace with her, crossing the vast expanse of the garage floor like a party of snails. Chloe tried to keep her voice steady as she smiled weakly.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry I walk so slowly. Go right on ahead.” She looked up at Mike. “You, too. I’ll get there.”
He shook his head, turned to look her straight in the eyes. In the dim light of the garage his blue eyes glowed like twin rondels of sky. His face was drawn, tight, serious. “Chloe.” He picked up her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, watching her face carefully, as if to make sure she understood what he was saying. “Right now there isn’t any place I’d rather be than right here with you.”
Chloe blinked.
Oh. Wow.
Chapter 6
Chloe was embarrassed that she couldn’t walk fast. Mike’s heart painfully turned over in his chest at that.
Chloe had survived something few people would have. She’d been brutalized as a little girl, had spent nearly a decade in a hospital, been operated on fourteen fucking times, was alive by a miracle and . . . she was embarrassed?
Harry had killed the motherfucker who’d whipped Chloe against a wall as if she’d been a rag doll, otherwise Mike would definitely go look the guy up himself. Have a word or two with him.
See how he liked pushing around an ex-Force Recon Marine, ex-SWAT. See whether the fuckhead might find it a little harder to smash a 220-pound man who was an expert in close-quarter combat against the wall than a 40-pound little girl.
Yeah, Mike would look forward to that.
The underground garage of the Morrison Building was huge. Harry’s allotted parking slot was way the hell over on the other side of the building.
Harry and Ellen were halfway there, Harry checking every minute or so if Chloe was following. She was.
Harry didn’t have to worry because Mike was on it, and just as soon as humanly possibly he was going to be on her.
Mike would have sworn that last night had put him off sex for a while. A long while.
But nope. Sex came roaring back, it was in his head, buzzing in his veins, pooling blood between his legs. He fought off an erection—if the past twenty years of industrial-level fucking had taught him anything, it was the ability to control his cock—but he could feel the heaviness between his thighs, a concentration of sensation and heat.
It was different from the usual, though. If he weren’t so goddamned distracted by Chloe, he could try to figure out what it was about her that was so different. Right now, though, he only had enough blood in his head to know to stick close.
Harry and Ellen were in Harry’s Tahoe by the time they made it to the vehicle. Harry started the engine. “Hop in, honey!” he called, and Mike saw Chloe suppress a wince.
Mike loved Harry. There was an old saying—to love like a brother. Mike loved Harry more than like a brother but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to kick his ass right now.
While Chloe had been trying to explain how she didn’t remember him because she’d been so badly injured a good chunk of her life had gone, lost in years in hospitals, Harry had barely been listening. He’d been frozen, a big message buzzing in his head he hadn’t known how to process. And once Chloe dropped her bomb, Harry’s senses had been completely blitzed by joy.
Chloe’s problems had completely flown under Harry’s radar. Not Mike’s. He’d seen from the start that it was hard for her to move fast. Chloe hid it well, was probably used to hiding it all her life, but it was there and she was ashamed and Mike vowed right then and there that she would never be ashamed again.
Chloe looked dismayed when she registered the enormous step up into the Tahoe. Without a word, Mike easily lifted her onto the seat. When he got into the other side, she smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said softly, leaning over, the word only for him.
Oh man. Her smile. How could she turn even more golden when she smiled? Mike suspected she didn’t smile much. Well, life hadn’t given her that much to smile about. He knew all about that.
Ellen turned around in her seat. “Chloe, I can’t wait for you to meet Grace, though she might be a little fussy. We think she’s starting to teethe.”
“How old is she?”
“Three months.”
“Great kid,” Mike offered.
“Yes, she is,” Ellen smiled. “She looks just like Harry, and”—Ellen tilted her head, red hair shifting on her shoulder—“now that I’m looking more closely, she looks a lot like you, too.”
“Oh!” Chloe held up her hand. “I don’t want to cry again.”
“Turn on the waterworks all you want,” Harry said, glancing in his rearview mirror.
Ellen pulled out a Kleenex, dabbed her eyes and handed the packet back over the seat to Chloe. “I’m really glad I didn’t put mascara on this morning, otherwise I’d look like Raccoon Mom.”
Chloe laughed. “And I’d look like Raccoon Aunt.” She shook her head. “I’m an aunt. I can’t believe it.”
“You’ll believe it in”—Ellen checked her watch—“about half an hour, forty minutes. Depending on how long it takes you to pack.”
“Not long. I didn’t pack much. I didn’t think I’d stay for more than a couple of nights.”
Silence.
Harry met her eyes again in the mirror. “You’re staying for more than a couple of nights, count on it.”
She would definitely stay more than a couple of nights, Mike thought. If he had anything to say about it, she’d stay permanently. There was a small apartment a couple of doors down from Harry’s place. He’d have a word with the building manager. Harry’d be good for the rent.
“Here we are,” Ellen said, and they swerved into the Del’s huge parking space. The enormous, rambling white circular building rose all around them, red turrets gleaming in the sun. “Chloe, do you want me to come up with you and help you pack?”
“No, thanks,” Chloe began.
“I’ll go up with her.” No way was Mike going to let her carry a suitcase down. “No problem.”
Chloe turned to him, surprised. “That isn’t necessary—” but she was talking to the wind. He was already at the backseat door on her side. He slid it open and watched as she put a very pretty foot out.
Damn, these SUVs were high. Not meant for chicks in skirts, no sir. As he had before, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her down. She was featherlight and soft between his hands. Touching her was pure pleasure. Man, it took effort to open his hands and let her go.
Maybe it was that light, flowery perfume she wore. Messed with his head. Paralyzed his hands.
Mike reached to slide the door behind her closed, catching Harry’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
He and Harry knew each other very, very well. To the point that words weren’t necessary.
That’s my sister, the look said. Take care.
Mike’s own look was eloquent. I know. I will.
The Del was huge and extremely busy in the holiday season. Considering she had left a dark, chilly, snowbound Boston, Chloe truly understood the attraction of San Diego. It was almost summer-like here, with buttery sunshine and the promise of warmth in the air.
Tourists were everywhere—sunburned, happy and reckless. It was a family hotel and kids scampered underfoot.
Uh-oh. A gaggle of businessmen, of the big variety. Happy and relaxed in garish golf clothes, laughing and bantering and paying no attention to anyone else as they moved in a pack, right in her path.
Chloe tensed. She was about half the size of many of the men and experience told her they wouldn’t notice her until one of the men jostled her. Given the size of some of them, like refrigerators, any jostling would hurt.
They were coming toward her like a big, multipart freight train. Chloe prepared to scramble to get out of their way when she felt Mike at her side move slightly behind her. He had one huge hand on the small of her back, the other gripped her elbow lightly, and they breezed through the businessmen without
a scratch.
In fact, the group parted like the Red Sea as Chloe and Mike sailed their way through. Mike kept hold of her and they made it to the front desk without incident even though they’d moved through more hordes of happy, oblivious, suntanned tourists.
Amazing. He’d steered them unerringly through what to her was a terrible obstacle course. Of course, to someone like him, it wasn’t an obstacle course at all. People naturally noticed him and made way for him, the alpha male.
It was so incredible, that feeling of sailing through people. Even through that pink-hued rubbery wall of businessmen, which for a moment had frightened her and at any other time would have had her scrambling to veer course.
But she hadn’t needed to. Chloe had felt utterly encased in a bubble of protection, the feeling so rare that she cherished it.
In a moment, they were in the vast, cool, wood-paneled atrium lobby of the Del, gorgeous and a little dark after the bright sunshine outdoors. Chloe stood for a moment, blinking as her eyes adjusted.
Mike steered her to the front desk, where Chloe told the elegant man she was checking out. Originally, she’d booked for three nights, thinking that even if things went badly with Harry Bolt, she might take a day or two to visit San Diego. Depending.
Never would she have imagined this—her delighted brother waiting for her outside with his equally welcoming wife, and an insanely attractive man standing so close she could feel his body heat, completely focused on her.
“Yes, ma’am,” the man at the desk said to her request to check out early. His name tag read Ronald. “I hope everything is okay?”
Chloe blushed with happiness. “Everything is fine, Ronald. I’ve just decided to stay with . . . with my brother for the next few days.”
Oh God, how good those words felt. She was staying with her brother!
“Must feel good to say that out loud,” Mike mused, and she looked at him, startled, surprised all over again at how perceptive he was, this über alpha male.
Everything about him screamed macho, from the outsized shoulders and arms to the hard face with bright blue, piercing eyes. Above all, he simply had this incredible macho aura, a being that oozed male pheromones.
It was usually a perfect recipe for cluelessness, at least in Chloe’s small experience of macho men. They rarely noticed anything outside themselves, which was why Mike was such a surprise. He’d seemed to be tuned into her from the first moment he’d set eyes on her.
“Yes,” she said softly, “it does feel good. And not something I’d ever thought I’d say.” She turned to look at him, full on, and fell right into those bright blue eyes.
She couldn’t have moved if a bomb had gone off a foot away.
“I’m glad,” he said softly. He had a deep voice with bass tones that reverberated in her belly. “Really glad you’re here.”
What could she possibly say to that?
“Your key, ma’am.” Chloe was disoriented, out of time, out of space. It took her a moment to connect the elements of the man at the front desk holding out a card. When she simply stared at him—and it had been an effort to wrench her eyes away from Mike’s—he put the card down and slid it across to her, probably thinking she was mentally incapacitated. “For checkout?”
Chloe flushed. All these emotions, all of them strong, finding a long-lost brother who came with an extended family, including children, reacting so strongly to Mike—they were so outside her personal experience she was having problems coping.
“Thanks.” Mike pocketed the key with its holder.
“It’s in the Resort,” the clerk said helpfully. “Let me show you.” He whipped out a map and traced the route with his index finger.
“Got it.” Mike took her arm. “Come on, honey, let’s get you packed up so we can go home.”
Honey. Home. Oh God.
Another gaggle of men stood between them and the walkway. Supersized middle-aged men in sportswear, crossing their path obliquely. Chloe stiffened a little but needn’t have bothered. Again, without even being aware of it, the men parted for her—for Mike, actually. They would never even have noticed her. Mike navigated them through without any difficulties at all.
She was so unused to being looked after, to being protected. Such a strange feeling—to relax totally while among people. She was usually on her guard against so many things.
The Del was huge and there was a lot of walking to be done. It was pointless for Chloe to try to hurry—she’d only trip, perhaps fall. Though falling wasn’t actually an option with Mike at her side. He seemed to be hyper-aware of her, matching his steps to hers exactly. He’d actually offered her his arm, as if they were at a Regency ball in Bath. She took it, marveling at the warm, steely feel of him under her fingers. It seemed to her that if he were anywhere near her, she could never fall down.
Such a delicious feeling. Chloe loved walking, but it didn’t love her back.
Most of the fifty bones she’d broken had reknit fairly well, but the fact was that she wasn’t entirely in control of her own body. An orthopedic surgeon had once explained to her that she had lost millions of proprioceptors—tiny feedback devices in the body that help humans keep balance. Walking involved intense attention to where she put her feet, to making sure she didn’t trip over things that others would automatically correct for.
Never with Mike by her side, though.
Down crowded corridors, over thick uneven brick walkways, over grassy swards, they made their way without incident. When they stopped at her door, Mike slotted the card key and opened it for her.
It was a lovely room, with a sea view she’d paid an extra $150 for. There had been no way of knowing what she’d find at RBK. She’d been determined that if seeking out her long-lost brother ended badly, she’d at least have a pretty room that looked out over the ocean as a consolation.
“Nice room,” Mike said, strolling in, looking around.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, delighted that it wasn’t going to have to console her. “It won’t take me but a minute to pack.”
“Take your time.” Those bright blue eyes fixed on her. “You weren’t planning on staying long.” It wasn’t a question.
“No. I, um. I booked for three nights, as I said. If—if it didn’t turn out well with Harry, at least I could look forward to doing some touristy things here in San Diego. When I left Boston, there was a foot of snow on the ground and subzero temperatures.”
“Well, you’re not going back to Boston for a while.” Mike watched as she pulled open the one drawer into which she’d put her underwear, nightgown, two sweaters and a pair of lightweight wool slacks. Not many things. “You’ll want to do some shopping. Harry’ll be good for it. Hell, I’ll be good for it.”
Chloe turned, nightgown in her hands, frowning. “I’m not too sure I under—Oh!” She blinked in surprise. “You mean Harry would pay for new clothes. Or you would.” She blushed. “I could never accept that. And anyway, my parents left me a lot of money.” A ton of it, in fact. The amount still astonished and, in a way, shamed her. She didn’t deserve all that money. “As a matter of fact, that was one of the reasons I came here to find Harry. I wanted to offer him half the value of the estate I inherited. It’s only right. We’re siblings, he should have half.”
Though nothing could ever compensate Harry for having been left behind, abandoned.
Mike walked over to her, smiling. “You want to give Harry money? Good luck with that. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet you dinner at the Crown Room, right here at the Del, that he won’t accept a dime from you. Won’t even entertain the thought.”
“And what would I bet?”
His eyes held hers. The light off the ocean outside her window lit up his blue eyes until they were the color of the ocean itself. He smiled. “Dinner at the Del.”
“So . . . no matter who wins, we have dinner here?”
He stepped closer. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
Though he wasn’t as tall as his oversiz
ed “brothers,” Mike Keillor was still taller than she was. She had to tilt her head back a little to keep looking into his eyes.
He was so close she could feel the heat he emanated. So close he filled her field of vision, blocking everything out but him.
“Shake on it,” he ordered.
Her hand lifted without any volition on her part, as if it were the hand itself that wanted to be held by his. He gently grasped it in both hands, instead of the impersonal handshake she’d been expecting. His hands were as hot as a furnace. Slowly, watching her every second, he brought her hand to his mouth and—oh my God—kissed it.
Something inside her, something she’d never even suspected existed, pinged to life. Heat, excitement . . . desire. Her hand started shaking in his, utterly uncontrollable. She wasn’t in control of anything here—her hands, the expression on her face, her own desire.
It was like being on a raft without oars, tumbling down a raging river. All she could do was hang on. And she did.
Her fingers curled around his hand as he tugged, pulling her willingly closer to him.
Oh, everything about this was just so delicious. Chloe wanted to remember this exact moment for ever. The drapes opened onto a delightful balcony overlooking a stretch of white beach and beyond, the endless Pacific, the sun shining off the waves so brightly it was as if the ocean were filled with silent fireworks.
There was a vague, happy rhythmic sound that was the waves in the distance, overlaid by a little girl’s laughter and the dull thwacking of a tennis ball somewhere. She could smell lemon polish, brine, some flowering plant outside the window . . . and Mike.
Every sense she had was heightened, her entire body turning into one huge receptor. Absolutely every sensation her body was receiving was delectable, particularly the desire.
Oh my. She’d read about it, endlessly. Listened to friends talk about it, thought about it, but never understood it.
Now she did. Now she could see why women dated and sometimes married completely inappropriate men, because if for even a fleeting moment it was possible to feel this, it was worth it.
Nightfire: A Protectors Novel: Marine Force Recon Page 7