More bookworm than beauty queen, Mia had been Tanner’s English tutor when they’d attended the University of Alabama together. On the surface Tanner had been the quintessential jock, handsome, cocky and above all, popular. Like many other girls roaming the campus who’d been dazzled by his easy athletic grace and effortless appeal, Mia had been just as charmed from afar.
When her professor had approached her about the tutoring opportunity, she’d accepted without even inquiring about the student because she’d needed the money. Her scholarship fund only went so far and her mother needed to bank every penny she could into retirement.
So it had come as a great shock when Tanner Crawford had walked into the room, awaiting his introduction. Though his trademark irreverence and confidence were in place, it was the merest hint of reserve—that honest but unexpected shyness—she’d caught in those amazing eyes that had ultimately drawn her in. In that instant, she, a lowly campus nobody, had been able to identify with the notorious football star.
And that had been the end of her, of course.
Or of her heart and virginity, at the very least.
There had been much more behind that handsome face than she’d ever expected. She’d discovered a keen mind more interested in American and English Literature than Classical, with a fondness for Edgar Allan Poe. She’d also learned that he had a brave and noble heart, one that had given up a prime football scholarship in favor of the ROTC program and a sense of honor and integrity that was almost nostalgic. Tanner Crawford was one of those rare guys who’d actually known what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, who’d been thinking past the next game, past the next keg party, past the end of his dick.
He’d wanted to be a Ranger—just like his father and grandfather—and that surety of purpose, that maturity had been particularly attractive.
The only problem with a guy that focused was that there wasn’t room for anything else in his life, including a permanent significant other. Giving her the galling and equally dreaded it’s-not-you-it’s-me-let’s-be-friends speech shouldn’t have come as a shock…but it had.
She’d been heartbroken and mortified.
While she’d been thinking about monogrammed hand towels and sharing a king-size bed till-death-do-us-part, Tanner had been trying to find a delicate way to cut her loose.
Having grown up without a father, without the traditional home, Mia had wanted the picture-perfect life. The white fence, barbecues in the backyard, a three-bedroom two-bath brick house in a trendy subdivision, where she could plant flowers and grow her own herbs.
They’d lived in shabby rentals until her senior year of high school, when her mother had been able to take the money she’d been saving for college and put it toward a home because Mia had landed a full scholarship to the university. It had been wonderful to ease that burden for her mom, who’d never had a fallback plan, who’d always been the first line of defense between them and poverty. Her grandfather helped when he could, but most of his savings had been eaten up by hospital bills for her grandmother, who’d suffered with multiple strokes until her death.
Mia had admired her mother, but had wanted a different life.
One with Tanner.
Because she would have rather died than let him know how he’d hurt her, Mia had pasted a smile onto her face and pretended that she agreed, that things had gotten too serious too soon. Then, even though she’d saved her virginity until she could be with someone she loved—Tanner—she’d promptly gone out and slept with the first guy who showed the barest hint of interest. She wasn’t proud of it now and wished she could get a do-over for that night, but at the time, it was the only thing she could think of to do that might make her feel better. As much as she’d needed to overwrite the memory of him, she’d needed to feel desirable even more.
Neither goal had been achieved and she’d never shown herself the same sort of disrespect again.
She’d also gotten her one and only tattoo to mark the occasion, but she didn’t regret that. The Bard’s “What’s past is prologue” was stamped in black ink in elaborate script across the small of her back.
Live and learn, Mia thought now as she pushed through the break-room doors. Without the benefit of mistakes, life’s lessons would have a lot less impact.
And speaking of impact…
Despite her premonition, she was not prepared.
Tanner Crawford stood in the middle of the room with Ed Thompson, head of security. His gaze immediately tangled with hers and not the least bit of surprise flickered in those pale green eyes, indicating he’d known of her involvement.
A heads-up would have been nice, Mia thought, fighting the involuntary urge to smile at him. He’d broken her heart. She shouldn’t want to smile at him and yet, despite the suddenly queasy feeling in her belly, she couldn’t deny the absolute delight she felt upon seeing him again. The reaction was every bit as physical as the instant rush of desire winding through her limbs, the tingle of sexual awareness that ignited in her nipples within mere seconds of laying eyes on him. She suddenly felt plugged in, turned on and ready for immediate action. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end and the tips of her fingers and toes suddenly prickled with sensation.
Lust, quite inconveniently, hit her with a vengeance.
It was too much to hope for that he would have put on a few pounds and lost a considerable amount of his hair, Mia thought, her gaze skimming over a body that was bigger and harder than it had been in college. She released a shallow breath. Badass, indeed.
He wore a pair of pleated khaki pants, which emphasized a narrow waist, and a black Henley T-shirt. The fabric stretched across his perfectly sculpted torso and hugged the broad planes of his shoulders. His arms, works of art in and of themselves, were corded with vein and muscle and dusted with a fine layer of tawny golden hair. A peek of tattoo rested just below the hem of his shirt, making her immediately curious as to what it was and why he’d gotten it. He rested on the balls of his feet, rangy, still and ready for action.
Time had been every bit as busy on his face as it had the rest of his body. Though the general topography was the same, maturity had chiseled away the youthful boyishness that used to round out the edges, leaving his jaw more angular, his cheeks hollow and the sleek slope of his brow more severe. His mouth was every bit as full and purely sinful as it had always been and the smile that kicked up the corner of his lips was at once familiar and different.
What hadn’t changed were his eyes.
That unique shade, the almond shape, the faint laugh lines at the corners. That had been one of her favorite places to kiss, Mia remembered now. She let go an imperceptible breath as longing suddenly knifed through her.
Though neither her smile nor step faltered, belated panic suddenly hit her. Her, him and Moe trapped together for a minimum of twenty-one hours in a car, divided up into what could conceivably be four to five days. Holy hell.
She felt her smile turn painful.
Tanner Crawford was her sexual kryptonite, the last cookie on the plate, the only guy who’d ever rung her bell or made her sing the hallelujah chorus. He was the only lover she’d had who’d ever given her an orgasm without any “outside” help, as it were. He had what she’d jokingly dubbed The Magical Penis because it was the only one that had ever truly worked for her.
Meanwhile, thanks to Moe, she as suffering from a chronic case of Ineedtogetlaidnow.
This was a disaster of epic proportions, Mia thought as Tanner bent forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek. Pleasure arced through her. He was like one giant self-destruct button and she wanted to press herself against him to set it off. Not good. A hot shiver surged through her and settled warmly in her sex. She bit her lip against the sensation and savored the scent of him. Something warm and musky with a cool finish. Mouthwatering.
“Mia, it’s been a long time,” he said, his voice the same husky baritone she remembered, a bit deeper maybe. Like a good whiskey, it had only gotten better with age.
God help her.
3
BECAUSE HE’D PREPARED himself for the tsunami-like wave of lust he knew would hit him when he saw Mia again, Tanner was ready. He’d put his game face on, had indulged in a little self-gratification last night to take the edge off and was as mentally focused as he could possibly be.
What was completely unexpected and therefore unplanned for was the wallop of sheer emotion—a disconcerting combination of joy, relief and desperation—that had him suddenly wondering if his testosterone levels were low. Men weren’t supposed to feel like this, dammit. These were chick feelings and he didn’t like them one bleeding bit. He determinedly bent forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek, vaguely noting that she smelled like peaches, and felt her ripe breasts press against his chest.
Predictably he went hard and those jarring softer emotions thankfully retreated as swiftly as they’d arrived.
“Mia, it’s been a long time,” he murmured, surprised when his voice stayed even. He felt like he was flying apart on the inside, had that same breathless-in-the-gut feeling he always got when taking a jump. Insane, he thought. She was just a girl, could have possibly been the girl, but still, was just a girl all the same.
She made a curious little choked sound in her throat and drew back. “It has. How have you been?”
Ed arched an interested brow. “You two know each other?”
“We do,” Mia confirmed with a single nod. “We, er… We went to college together.”
And had wild, down-and-dirty sex on a table in the library, Tanner added silently. And beneath the table. And against the wall. He watched her pulse flutter wildly in her throat, her cheeks pinken and knew that he wasn’t the only one taking a fond stroll down Great Sex Memory Lane.
Ed inclined his dark head. “Well that should make this easier then, eh? A long trek like this will be much better with someone you know instead of a total stranger. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about. Do some catching up.”
Mia’s smile wavered and she darted him a quick look at Tanner. “Oh, definitely,” she said, lying with more skill than he remembered. He filed that away for future consideration, then gave her a little grin to let her know he’d picked up on it.
Time to get rid of Ed, Tanner thought. He turned to the older gentleman, stuck out his hand and slapped the man on the back with friendly camaraderie. “Ed, thanks for bringing me up to speed. We’ll be in contact.”
“I’m sure both the statue and Mia will be in good hands,” Ed said, nodding thoughtfully.
Mia made another little strangling noise, then cleared her throat. “G-got a tickle,” she said, putting a finger against her neck. She started toward the vending machine. “I just need to get a drink.”
Slightly bemused at her odd behavior, Tanner merely stood back and observed. She chose a bottled water from the machine and seemed to purposely keep her back to him while she took a swallow. After a minute, she took a deep breath, then exhaled and turned around to face him. Evidently once more in default mode, she’d engaged the reset button and was seemingly ready to deal with him again. Interesting. Also gratifying. He liked that he’d rattled her.
Warm brown eyes, set in a classical heart-shaped face, regarded him with equal parts curiosity and reservation and a small smile tugged at the corners of her full, unbelievably carnal mouth. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, with a single large curl resting invitingly around the swell of her breast. She wore a white silk scoop-necked top beneath a fitted purple jacket and matching skirt. She had a true Renaissance figure, Tanner noted, with a small waist and lush curves—which had grown even more sensually rounded with age—and a pair of frighteningly high, incredibly sexy black heels.
He looked pointedly at the over-the-top heels and raised a brow. “Regular footwear not dangerous enough for you?”
She kicked her foot out and twisted her ankle to admire her shoes. “It’s one way to live on the edge.”
When had she ever wanted to live on the edge? Tanner wondered. Last he remembered, she wanted a dependable husband, a mortgage and a minivan. The ultimate American Dream, à la Normal Rockwell and ’50s sitcoms. He grimaced.
His dreams had been decidedly different, which was no small part of the reason they’d broken up.
“They can’t be comfortable,” he told her, skeptically eying the sliver of pointy heel. He mentally stripped her of every ounce of clothing save the shoes, and the image was so hot it could have burned his retinas.
Mia looked at him as though he were pityingly clueless. “Shoes like these aren’t meant to be comfortable. They’re meant to be admired and appreciated. They’re jewelry for the feet.”
“Foot jewelry? Seriously?”
She smirked and shook her head. “What sort of gun is that under your jacket?”
“It’s a Glock 21 .45ACP with octogonal bore, single-position feed, staggered column type, thirteen rounds,” he rattled off without thinking.
Her lips twisted. “Bibbidi bobbidi boo,” she said. “I didn’t understand a single thing beyond Glock.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re comparing my gun to your shoes?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“But my gun is practical and your shoes are…not.”
“Ah, but your gun wouldn’t be practical to me,” she said, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “It’s all relative.”
“I can defend myself with my gun,” he added.
Her lips twitched. “One would hope. Otherwise, you’d be a sorry excuse for a security agent.”
Tanner laughed again, reminded of her somewhat skewed sense of humor. It was smart, offbeat and occasionally biting, but admirable all the same. He’d missed that about her, too, he realized. He’d missed that jagged, tongue-in-cheek wit. “Too true,” he told her.
“So what have you been up to?” she asked. “No longer in the military, I assume.”
He felt his skin tighten around his eyes and his gut clench. “That’s right. Less than a month, in fact.”
“So you’re new to the security business?”
“New but capable,” he told her, lest she think his in experience was going to be a problem. He’d been protecting his country, disarming terrorists and fighting insurgents, dammit. He was fully capable of moving a little statue from Point A to Point B without a problem. He’d already outlined a plan and scouted ahead to avoid road construction and heavier traffic.
Her gaze sharpened and he belatedly remembered how easily she’d always been able to read him, as though by simply cocking her head or narrowing her eyes, she could fine-tune the reception and pick the thoughts right out of his brain. It was as galling and unnerving as it had always been and he made a mental note to be more careful.
“Needed a change of scenery, eh?” she asked, unerringly going straight to the heart of the matter. The grisly images taunted him once more and he gave a dry bark of laughter.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said, throwing her words back at her. He straightened. “So are you ready to go? Do we need to drop by your place and pick anything up?”
She winced. “My place is in Savannah, so that would be a little difficult. But I do need to change clothes and pick up my stuff.”
“Savannah?” he asked, startled. He’d just assumed that she was in D.C., that her work with the museum kept her here.
“Yes. I’ve been there for several years now.”
“You don’t work for the Smithsonian Institute?” Dammit, he should have checked up on her, looked her up on Google at the very least, but he’d convinced himself that it wasn’t necessary. That, ultimately, it didn’t matter. She was just part of a job and poking into her past would somehow weaken his ability to keep that in perspective. He’d concentrated his efforts on Ramirez and Ackerman, a zealous reporter who gave him pause, and all the other people connected with the exhibit. He’d purposely avoided looking into her background because he’d been too dam
ned curious about her and couldn’t distinguish if his interest was personal or professional.
Clearly that had been a mistake, one that he deeply regretted now because it made him look foolish.
She shook her head, obviously surprised that he didn’t know that already. “Not directly, no. I work for the Southern Center of Antiquities, which is based in Savannah. We’re privately funded so we’ve got a little more authority over our interests. My director, in particular, is interested in South American culture. I did postgraduate studies in Brazil, so naturally, I was eager to participate in this exhibit. It’s my big break of sorts. My first as a liaison, in fact.”
She didn’t precisely preen, but it was obvious that she was quite proud of herself. Her first job as a liaison, his first assignment for Ranger Security. There was a lot more than Dick’s safety riding on this, Tanner suddenly realized.
Neither one of them could afford for him to make a mistake. And he’d already made his first by not investigating her further. Shit.
“So you’ve been living in a hotel for the past several weeks?”
“With my boyfriend, actually,” she corrected. “He’s got a place here.”
He felt her revelation reverberate through him and, though it was incredibly irrational, he was suddenly humiliatingly jealous of the faceless, nameless man. Was there no end to his own stupidity?
Determined not to look like an idiot or say anything dim-witted, Tanner merely inclined his head. “Ah. Does he know you’re going to be traveling with me?” Great. He’d failed, once again. That question sounded entirely too self-important, and he immediately regretted it.
“Not with you specifically, but he knows that I will be accompanying the statue with the security agent.” Her gaze turned speculative, as though she were considering something, but then her brow smoothed and she straightened briskly. “I suppose we should get on the road. I’m assuming you’ve plotted our route?”
The Renegade Page 3