Tempt the Night

by Dixie Lee Brown

  BRADY TURNED THE key in the lock and pushed inside, hoping Mac wouldn’t be too hard to find. She’d been on his mind all the way to the car and back. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that made him want to keep her next to him or even when his ill-advised fascination had begun. Sure . . . she was attractive, and sexy, and not afraid to stand up to him. Surprisingly, even the latter was a huge turn-on.

  But she was also intelligent, compassionate, and courageous all in one drop-dead gorgeous package. What she wasn’t was a cheap, easy, barfly who slept with men she barely knew and then moved on to the next. Brady regretted suggesting that she might be comfortable in that role. He couldn’t begin to guess at the magnitude of his blunder. If only he hadn’t kissed her—and if only she hadn’t responded by pressing against him in all the right places and driving him to the edge of delirium with her tongue in his mouth. How in the hell was he supposed to resist her?

  The smell of something meaty and delicious met him just inside the door and drew him toward the kitchen. When had he eaten last? His stomach growled, indicating it was about damn time.

  He stopped abruptly when he saw Mac, her back to him, leaning heavily against the counter in front of the sink. He started to greet her so she wouldn’t be startled by his sudden appearance, but the way she stood, hunched over as though protecting something fragile, kept him quiet. What was she doing? Reading a recipe? Praying? As though in answer to his questions, she rocked forward, bowing her head, and her shoulders quaked with an unseen force. She buried her head in her hands, bracing herself on her elbows, and then the sobs came, her body shuddering with the weight of her sorrow.

  Brady took a step backward, ready to retreat before Mac realized he was there. She’d probably get all bent out of shape if she knew he’d seen her cry. Where she got the idea that emotions equaled weakness was a mystery, but it surely did piss him off. Her grief, however, was a very personal and private thing, and he should respect that. Besides, when had he ever wanted to hold a woman while she cried? Surely that broke about a dozen of his self-imposed rules.

  Maybe . . . but it didn’t change the fact that he longed to hold this woman any way she’d let him. If that meant comforting her and drying her tears, so be it, which was all the more reason he should leave. Damn. He was turning into a friggin’ wuss.

  With no conscious effort, Brady took a step toward her. Suddenly, her legs gave out, and she tried to catch herself without success. She whacked her jaw against the countertop on the way down, and a low moan reverberated in the small space.

  Brady raced to catch her before she sprawled on the floor and lifted her into his arms. Immediately she tensed and pushed against him, but thanks to a jaw that had to be throbbing like hell, she apparently wasn’t in an argumentative mood. He took full advantage, hauling her ass out of the kitchen and through the living area.

  “Which one of these rooms is yours?”

  Mac made a pathetic picture as she held a hand to her jaw and pointed to one of the doors with her other arm. Tear tracks crisscrossed her cheeks.

  Brady suppressed the sudden urge to dry her tears with his lips. “Where’s Maria?”

  Mac pointed again.

  He switched directions, striding away from her room toward the one at the rear of the house. “Then this one must be mine.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Mac’s speech was impeded by the fact she apparently couldn’t, or wouldn’t, open her mouth all the way. She wiggled and twisted in his arms. “Either put me down or take me to my room.” Her words sounded funny, but at least her jaw didn’t appear to be broken.

  He swung the door open and set Mac on her feet. She tried to dodge around him and escape, but he closed the door and placed his body between her and the exit. Mac stared at him distrustfully, her hiccups and tear-stained face tugging at his conscience.

  He sighed, raising his hands in surrender. “Mac, I just want to help. Damn it. I can’t stand the thought of you all alone and in pain. Just let me be there for you. I won’t say a word unless you want me to.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped a foot. “That’s what this was all about? You could have said that instead of doing your caveman routine.”

  Yeah . . . she could be right. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone overboard trying to make a point. But Mac’s anger appeared to be mostly an act. In fact, she was trying to hide a little smile that pulled at the corners of her sexy lips.

  She ran her hand through her hair. “Look, Brady. That’s sweet—sort of, and I don’t want to argue with you right now.”

  “Me either . . . but you’re not leaving yet.”

  Disbelief and then amusement flashed in her eyes. “You really think you can make me stay here?”

  Brady nodded. “Yeah, I think I can, but I’d rather you agree with me and stay because you want to—because it’s the smart thing to do.” He stepped toward her until he was close enough to take her hand in his. “You won’t let yourself break down in front of anyone. You and I both know if you go to your room alone, your grief will ambush you. I’m merely suggesting you let that happen here, where I can monitor you and you’ll have someone to talk it out with.”

  Mac snorted a laugh and slapped her hands on her hips. “Okay, Mr. Monitor. Are you ready to talk out your problems too? Because I might stay to see that.”

  “What problems?”

  “I think you called it baggage from the war.”

  Brady held her blue-gray gaze for a second. He was usually a better judge of character than that. He hadn’t expected Mac to throw his confession back in his face. Bitterness settled over him. “Trust me . . . you don’t want any part of that.” He yanked the door open and stood aside, waiting for her to get the hint.

  A myriad of emotions streamed over her face. Regret, understanding, curiosity, but mostly acceptance. She stood there watching him, her mouth set in a determined line. “I get it. It’s okay for you to help me through the death of a friend, but if I want you to talk through something a hundred times worse . . . that’s not okay? You can’t have it both ways, Brady.”

  Mac brushed by him, grabbed the knob from his hand, and held his gaze as she gently returned the door to its closed position. Then she closed the distance between them and stood toe to toe in front of him. “I don’t like to cry in front of people. So sue me. But you—you’re a master at hiding your true feelings, aren’t you?

  Brady grabbed her around the waist and jerked her against him, then got right in her face. Wide-eyed, she tried to squirm away from him, but all she managed to do was give him a raging hard-on.

  His lips hovered over hers, teasing, testing. “Yeah, I’m damn good at it . . . except where you’re concerned.” He pulled her harder against his erection, and when her eyes sought his, equal parts anger and desire smoldered behind half-closed eyelids.

  His name escaped her lips on a heated breath, and Brady lost the last shred of his control. His mouth covered hers. It wasn’t a tender kiss, but rather comprised all the desire and longing she’d ignited in him, along with a healthy dose of frustration. He was hungry in a way he hadn’t thought possible, and his lips devoured hers, branding her as his and his alone.

  Something about that thought broke through his haze of desire. This was wrong on so many levels. She couldn’t be his. Not forever. Common sense warred with feelings that wouldn’t be denied. He should walk out that door—but damn it, it was way too late now.

  He raised his head and brushed the hair back behind her ears, trying to read her face. After running his fingers lightly over the bruise on her jaw, turning purple and swelling, he kissed it ever so gently.

  She leaned her forehead against his chest and let her breath out slowly. “I’m not that woman you’re looking for, Brady. I wish I was.” Mac lifted her head and looked at him with sadness pooling around the edges of her eyes. “Sex isn’t just a biological function to me. I get attached. You’ve been completely honest with me, and I respect you for that. I want you t
o know where I stand too. I’ve had more than my share of broken hearts. I don’t need another one.”

  Well, hell. Brady had expected her rejection, yet the sense of loss and disappointment was almost too much. Familiar rage at the atrocities of war, which made it impossible for him to lead a normal life without putting those he held dear in jeopardy, dropped like a bitter pill in his stomach. He’d come too close to the unthinkable once—barely stopping before killing a woman who’d invited him into her bed—and he wouldn’t go down that road again. Not ever. As a result, he’d walked away from his parents, his sisters, and his hometown because he wasn’t prepared to take the chance of losing his cool and hurting someone else.

  He’d have to walk away from Mac too—although he didn’t like it one damn bit. The problem was she needed his help to stay alive at the moment. He wouldn’t leave her until she was safely away from here. Then he’d place her in Joe’s capable hands to figure out what was going on in Sitka and clear her name. Funny—he trusted Joe with his life, but the idea of leaving this woman in his care made Brady squirm.

  There was no future for them, only today, and she’d had the final say on that type of short-term, meaningless connection. Of course she was right, but the thought of her moving on, disappearing for good, taking all of the might-have-beens with her, sent his world spiraling downward.

  He stepped away to give them both some breathing room and held his hands up. “I totally understand, and I know you’re not that woman. That was just my wishful thinking, but hey, I knew you were a smart lady, and you’ve made a wise decision. Not that I wouldn’t have liked this to go the other way.” He grinned, hoping to relieve her discomfort.

  It seemed to have the opposite effect. Mac glanced away, then strode to the bed and perched on the edge. Fatigue lined her face, and she reminded him of a lost child for a few seconds before she breathed deeply and put on her game face.

  “I don’t feel particularly smart or wise right now.” Mac fingered her bruised jaw and grinned minutely.

  Brady followed and knelt in front of her. “Eventually, you’ll see that you did the right thing, but we’ve got some unfinished business to take care of. We’ll be spending a lot of time together until this is over.” When it came down to it, Brady wasn’t ready to give her up, even if it meant denying his burgeoning feelings. “What do ya say we try to be friends?”

  “Friends?” Mac sounded distinctly skeptical.

  Brady laughed. “Yes—friends. No benefits. Just watching out for each other.”

  “Do you have any other friends who are women?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. My best friend is a woman. Her name is Alex Morgan. She lives in Portland, Oregon, now, but up until just recently, she lived in Montana. I’m going to miss her like crazy, so I’ll need a friend.” He winked, and Mac smiled, a slight blush giving her some color.

  Then a shadow of loss clouded her expression. “In a strange coincidence, I’m short one best friend too.” She studied him for quite a while, then nodded. “I guess we could try this friend thing.”

  Brady reached for her hand, but stopped short, letting his fingers trail down her leg instead. He stood, offered her a hand, and dragged her to her feet. “Good. I’m going to shower, and then I’ll meet you in the kitchen. That was something good to eat I smelled when I came in, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Maria made meatloaf, and I baked potatoes and steamed carrots.”

  “Where is Maria?” Brady whipped his sweaty shirt off over his head and dug in his duffel for clean clothes.

  “She wasn’t feeling well, so she went to lie down. I . . . told her about Paddy.”

  Brady stopped, a pair of jeans folded in his hands, and met her gaze. “Good girl. Are you all right?”

  Mac shrugged. “Take your shower. I’ll tell you about it while you’re eating.” She strode toward the door.

  “Mac?”

  A sweet smile greeted him as she glanced back.

  “Thank you.” Brady wasn’t sure she’d understand. He barely understood himself. All he knew was that he’d almost lost her, and for some reason not completely clear to him yet, that was unacceptable. That she’d agreed to be friends after the shabby way he’d treated her filled him with gratitude.

  Her smile graduated to her eyes, and a moment of understanding passed between them. “You too, Brady.”

  “So, we’re okay then?”

  “We’re good. See you in the kitchen.” She gave him one last searching glance before she exited his room.

  Brady dropped onto the bed and ran his hands over the rough stubble that decorated his face. He didn’t have a fucking clue what he was trying to do. Why it had suddenly become of paramount importance to maintain some sort of connection with Samantha McCallister was the question of the hour. The answer was best left hidden. Jumping at the chance to keep her as a friend when all else failed was surely the desperate act of a mad man, and yes—that description fit him to a tee.

  Nevertheless, he wasn’t sorry, and he would try to live within the constraints of their newfound relationship.

  Brady rose, strode to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He shed the rest of his clothes and entered the stream of water. Five minutes later, he was lathered, rinsed, and towel dried. He slipped into a pair of well-worn, comfortable jeans and a blue sweatshirt with Navy emblazoned across the front. Barefooted, he left his room, headed for the kitchen and food.

  Mac was just lifting the meatloaf from the oven when he entered the small cooking area, and the enticing aroma sent his stomach into hyper-drive. “Can I help?”

  She nodded toward the rest of the meal sitting on the counter near the stove, along with three plates, silverware, and glasses. “Grab a plate and dish up. What would you like to drink?” Mac squeezed by him on her way to the refrigerator. “There’s apple juice, red wine, something that may or may not be Kool-Aid, and beer.”

  “Bingo,” Brady said. “Why would anyone even have that other stuff in their refrigerator?”

  Mac laughed. “I’m sure there must be a reason, but it escapes me at the moment too.” She turned away from the refrigerator with two beers in her hands and set them on opposite sides of the table. Pushing behind him again, the soft brush of her body making contact with his, she grabbed the glasses and some napkins and carried them to the table too.

  Brady followed her with his loaded plate, sat, and waited for her.

  In short order, Mac joined him, her plate not even half as full as his. “You didn’t have to wait for me. Eat, before it gets cold.”

  “Oh, you don’t know my mother. Somehow she’d know if I didn’t show proper respect, and I’d hear about it the next time I call.” Brady enjoyed her cute little giggle.

  “Your mother is big on respect, huh?”

  “You could say that.” He raised an eyebrow. “How’d she do?”

  Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “If I were you, I wouldn’t ever leave your mother and me alone in the same room.”

  Brady chuckled as he forked a big chunk of meatloaf. “I think that’s sage advice.”

  Mac was barely eating, mostly moving her food from one side of her plate to another.

  He watched her curiously for a few seconds. “This is delicious. Kudos to you and Maria.”

  She set her fork down and pushed her plate away. “It’s good. I’m not very hungry I guess. Actually, I’m a little worried about Maria.”

  “Did she take the news hard?”

  Mac concentrated on her plate. “They were in love. I had no idea. If I’d known, I could have softened it somehow. He was my best friend. He dated a lot, but he never said a word to me about finding someone special.” She raised her eyes and looked directly at Brady. “Is that the kind of friends you and I are going to be?”

  He choked on a mouthful of potatoes, and it was a moment before he could speak. “Well, that got back around to me pretty quickly.” He tried a teasing smile, but she wasn’t about to be distracted. “Did she say why he kept it
from you?”

  “Apparently, Paddy knew she was hiding from someone and felt I might be in danger if I knew about them. Obviously, keeping it from me didn’t work either. Someone is still trying to kill me.”

  “True. Did you ask her why Hernandez was after her?”

  “That’s your job, remember? I did my part. Now, answer my question.” She stared into his eyes.

  “You mean the one about whether I’m going to be the kind of friend who keeps things from you?”

  She continued to stare without responding. Time for some honesty. “There’s a lot of shit in my past that’s still classified. I can’t talk about any of that. If I learned something that I thought would endanger you if you knew . . . I’d probably do exactly the same thing your friend Callahan did. I’d err on the side of caution and hope it would keep you alive. But anything else you want to know—I’m an open book.”

  Mac looked like she was going to cry for a minute, her eyes brimming with moisture, but she held it together. “Thanks. I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Son of a bitch! What the hell was wrong with him? He was itching to pull her into his arms and assure her she’d know everything there was to know about him, but how could he put her through that? His life was the stuff of nightmares.

  Chapter Nine

  THE COMFORTABLE BED was wasted on Mac. She rolled and tossed and fought the covers until she was utterly exhausted—but not sleepy. Checking the bedside clock for the umpteenth time, she groaned: one fifteen a.m. Sunday morning. Her life had taken a nosedive into the bizarre, and she couldn’t keep up. God, she missed Paddy and the hometown wisdom he’d distributed on a regular basis. What would he say about all of this?

  He damn sure should start with an apology for keeping the single most important thing in his life a secret from her. Was pushing Maria’s note into her hand as he lay dying his way of asking Mac to help her? Of course, Mac would do that without being asked. What would Paddy have to say about Brady? One minute, the former Navy SEAL was shutting her out. The next, he went into full-on seduction. Then he changed gears completely and wanted to be her friend. Mac couldn’t figure him out. Normally, she’d gladly walk away from the drama, but the problem was, she was drawn to the tall, hard-bodied warrior who could turn her knees to rubber with one kiss.