The Renegade

by Rhonda Nelson

  He shot her a skeptical glance. “So you really believe that he works?”

  She nodded. “I’ve felt the…effects myself.”

  “The effects?”

  She looked away and her lips curled into a slightly embarrassed smile. “Yes, the effects,” she said significantly.

  Tanner leaned forward. “I’m afraid I’m not following,” he lied. He knew perfectly well what she was talking about. He just liked to see her squirm. It could easily become his favorite source of entertainment.

  “In order to procreate, one must be in the mood,” she explained, blushing to her hairline, where her eyebrows suddenly disappeared.

  “Ah.” He sighed knowingly. “And you’ve been in the mood?”

  “Excruciatingly so, for the past six weeks.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. A bark of laughter erupted from her throat. “I can’t believe I’m telling you, of all people, this. But yes, a thousand times yes. And I’m not the only one. Just look at what’s been happening to the people looking after the exhibit. Staff who are married have been bringing their spouses along to take the edge off. And the single ones have been hooking up like sailors on a three-day pass. It’s been unreal. We’ve got three girls on staff who are pregnant already.”

  “And you think this is Moe’s fault?”

  She shrugged fatalistically. “The evidence speaks for itself. Are you telling me that you’re immune? That you haven’t had sex on the brain since you’ve been around Moe?”

  “Not because of Moe,” he said, his gaze lingering hungrily on her mouth. He studied her again, the idea of her being excruciatingly horny reverberating in his brain like a pistol shot. His dick stirred in his jeans and he let his gaze drop to her mouth once more.

  He smiled and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Bad time for you to break up with your boyfriend, huh?”

  She laughed weakly and her keen gaze tangled with his. “I’ll manage.”

  He gave her a confident nod and grinned. “Let me know if you need any help. I can hook you up.”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was wrong on so many levels he didn’t even know where to start. In the first place, he was technically working, although considering one of his bosses had tossed him a box of condoms, for crying out loud, before he left, he didn’t think they’d fire him over it. In the second place, this was Mia, the only girl he’d ever been emotionally invested in. Leaving her the first time had been like lopping off an appendage, but he’d had his ambition to distract him, so he’d filled the void with adrenaline and casual sex.

  He’d survived.

  Something told him he wouldn’t this time.

  And lastly…he was a mess. It was hard enough to inhabit his own skin much less invite someone else in.

  But damn how he wanted her—how he burned and ached to have her—and he didn’t believe for a minute that it had anything whatsoever to do with Moe. There had always been something about Mia that had simply lit him up. She was the perfect combination of funny and smart, sexy and wholesome.

  From the first moment he’d met her all those years ago, he’d recognized that there was something special—something singularly unique—about her. She’d made him feel differently, had made him want to be more, to be better.

  “So where are we headed now?” she asked, thankfully pulling him out of his reverie.

  “To Nashville,” he said. “And just in the nick of time, too,” he told her, nodding toward a little boy standing near the slide who was holding himself. “There’s obviously a wienie thief in the area and since we’re carrying a big one, we’d better get going.”

  Her eyes widened and she choked on the drink she’d been taking. “A wienie thief?” she asked, following his gaze. She gasped and a laugh bubbled up her throat. “You’re horrible, Tanner,” she admonished with a smile.

  He stood and shrugged. “I’m just considering the evidence. And the way that kid is holding on to his little—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, cutting him off. She snorted and whacked him on the arm. “A wienie thief.” She looked heavenward, as though seeking divine assistance. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He put his hand in the small of her back and, gratifyingly, felt her shiver. Heat buzzed up his arm and pooled in his groin. “Am I allowed to make a suggestion?” he murmured hopefully. “No.”

  “Damn.” He winced with regret. “I think you would have liked it.”

  She groaned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  Liar.

  MIA HAD MADE MANY stupid mistakes over the years—attempting to boil an egg in the microwave (it exploded), closing her own hair in the car door (while not impossible, it was quite painful), mixing ammonia and bleach while cleaning the kitchen sink (she almost passed out)—but confiding her extremely horny condition to Tanner had to take first freakin’ prize.

  From the moment they’d gotten back into the car, he’d been purposely trying to drive her crazy. Crowding into her personal space, touching her unnecessarily, shooting her those heavy-lidded looks. And that wicked smile…

  She shivered, remembering.

  She’d hoped that once they’d reached Nashville and settled into their room, she might get a reprieve, but he’d asked for the shower first and, to her mixed de light and horror, had accidentally, on purpose, failed to completely close the bathroom door. She’d gotten a prime view of his back as he’d pulled his shirt up over his head, and the muscle play across his shoulders had been nothing short of mouthwatering.

  And when he’d shucked his jeans…

  Mia inhaled sharply. Fluted spine, lean waist, perfectly proportioned ass. She’d caught a glimpse of the rest of him when he’d turned to walk toward the shower and that fleeting look was more than enough to make the top of her thighs catch on fire.

  His ass wasn’t the only thing that was well-proportioned.

  Her gaze slid to Moe, where he rested in the backpack and she could have sworn she saw the air shimmer around it. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and struggled to find focus.

  Steam was slowly billowing through the bathroom door and the scent of Tanner’s soap—sandalwood, maybe?—was creeping into the room, further intoxicating her already sluggish system. It took very little imagination to picture soapy water sluicing over those magnificent muscles, clinging to the hair on his chest and following the treasure trail that bisected his stomach and disappeared below his waist.

  Mia squeezed her eyes tightly shut and swore. A distraction, that’s what she needed, she thought, fisting her hands in her hair and giving a little tug to clear her mind. Her gaze cast about the room for something to do and landed on the remote control. She snatched it up in favor of knitting—she didn’t trust sharp objects in her hands at the moment—and aimed it at the television. Her iPod was charging, otherwise some Monty Python would be just the ticket.

  In some miserable, cosmic twist of fate a commercial for his and hers KY Gel instantly filled the screen.

  She groaned and quickly changed the channel. Ah, the weather. That should be safe, right?

  “Get ready, folks,” the anchorman said as a giant sun suddenly glowed hugely behind him. “It’s going to be hot, hot, hot over the next several days.”

  No shit, Sherlock, Mia thought, a hysterical laugh erupting from her throat. She clicked the remote again and breathed an audible sigh of relief when she landed on a familiar sitcom.

  “Something wrong?” Tanner asked as he strolled out of the bathroom, the towel resting precariously on his lean hips. The edge of the tattoo she’d noted beneath his T-shirt was fully visible now and she smiled when she saw it. A raven resting on a branch, painted in stark black ink on his biceps. A nod to Poe, she thought, deeming it fitting. He sauntered over to his bag and withdrew a pair of boxers.

  Her mouth went dry. Supple muscle, sleek skin
, mile-wide shoulders, abs that were so well-defined they made the traditional six-pack look shabby. Water clung to his tawny locks and beaded over his back, and his nose and the tops of his ears gleamed in the lamplight.

  Without warning, he dropped the towel and stepped into his shorts.

  She groaned and glared at the ceiling. “Do you mind, Tanner? I’m right here.”

  He turned and grinned at her, the wretch. “Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. His eyes twinkled. “Modesty is one of the first things you lose in a locker room.”

  “We’re not in a locker room.”

  His unbelievably carnal mouth twitched. “Believe it or not, I’d worked that one out for myself.”

  He’d reduced her to pointing out the obvious. Sheesh. Mia popped up from the bed. “I think I’ll go ahead and have a shower, as well.”

  “I’d wait a minute,” he said. “Give the water time to heat up.”

  She gathered her toiletries. “I’ll take my chances.”

  His chuckle followed her into the bathroom, where she sagged against the countertop and stared at her foggy reflection. “You’ve got to get a grip.”

  With that admonishment ringing in her ears, Mia took her time in the shower, then moisturized and dried her hair completely. She was considering a manicure—anything to keep her away from him a little while longer—when she heard him talking to someone. She hesitated and realized he was on the phone. The tone of his voice was reserved, subdued, and she instinctively knew this conversation wasn’t business-related.

  A girlfriend? she thought, an irrational surge of jealousy making her muscles seize. It suddenly occurred to her that, though he had done a little subtle digging into her personal life, she had no idea what was actually going on in his. Mia straightened.

  That would not do. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

  He was sprawled on his bed, his back against the headboard, when she walked back into the room. His guarded gaze darted to hers, then drifted back to the television. Despite his seeming nonchalance, she could practically feel the tension hovering around him. “Yeah, it’s good,” he said. “I like it. Yeah, very different,” he confirmed with a small laugh. He sighed, listening for a moment. “I’ll try to come see you when I finish this assignment. I’m not sure, Mom. Next weekend, maybe.

  But—” he glanced at her, then away again “—it’ll have to be neutral ground.”

  Neutral ground? Mia wondered, listening shamefully, unable to help herself. What did he mean by that?

  “You know I can’t come there. No, Mom, it hasn’t been my home in a long, long time. Listen, I’ll give you a call when I’m back in Atlanta, okay? We’ll work something out then. Tell Gramps I’ll call soon. I wasn’t sure,” he trailed off, then winced. “Yes, you’re right. I should have known better.” He paused, listened to some thing else his mother said that made him smile. “Yeah, Mom, I will. Love you, too.” He disconnected and tossed the phone onto the bed, then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  A thousand questions burned on her tongue, but she determinedly withstood the fire. She busied herself by putting her toiletries away, then snagged her nail polish from her purse and began to touch up her toes.

  “My mother,” he said by way of explanation as the silence swelled between them.

  Mia shot him a grin. “Believe it or not, I’d worked that one out for myself,” she said, throwing his earlier words back at him.

  Predictably, he chuckled and the strain in the air immediately lessened. His shoulders relaxed and he watched her, seemingly fascinated, as she dabbed paint onto her nails. “Sounds like she wants you to visit,” Mia mused.

  She’d met both of his parents when they’d been in college. His father had been friendly, but cold, and his mother had been a sweet woman who’d probably gone into her marriage with a backbone, but had lost it along the way. She’d never stood directly next to her husband, but had hung back a few inches. A telling gesture, one that indicated they weren’t equal partners in their relationship.

  “She does,” he admitted. “I went directly to Atlanta when I left the military.”

  Mia merely hummed under her breath, hoping her silence would invite him to be more forthcoming. From what little she knew of his father, she didn’t have any trouble understanding Tanner’s “neutral ground” comment. How many times had Tanner told her he would be third-generation military? How often had she noticed his somewhat desperate attempts to earn his father’s regard? She could only imagine the elder Crawford’s response to his son ending his military service before retirement. What had prompted the decision wouldn’t have mattered to his father, who would have, no doubt, seen the decision as one lacking in character. She peeked a glance at Tanner, who was still watching her paint her nails.

  He would have known what his father’s reaction would be, Mia thought, and yet he’d left the Rangers anyway. She gleaned more from that little insight than she had from the nightmares, and her heart ached for him in response.

  “What’s that?” he asked, a frown in his voice.

  Mia capped the bottle, then bent forward a little more and blew on her wet nails. “What’s what?”

  “On the small of your back,” he said, leaving his bed to get a better look. “A tattoo?” he said, a note of breathless shock in his voice. “You’ve got a tattoo?” His warm fingers nudged the fabric aside, eliciting a shiver from her.

  Mia laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. “You seem surprised. What? You think you’re the only one who can have one? You know the Poe Toaster was a no-show this year, right?” she added, wincing.

  Tanner nodded grimly. “I’d heard. The first time since nineteen forty-nine. Sad, isn’t it? Seeing the tradition come to an end.”

  “Maybe someone will pick it up,” Mia offered. “It would be a shame if they didn’t. Did you ever see him? I remember that you’d said you wanted to.”

  Tanner shook his head. “No. I’d planned to, though, now that I’ve got the time.” He grimaced. “Guess I’ve left that too late, too.”

  “You never know,” Mia said, trying to discern the undercurrent in his voice. There seemed to be a double meaning, but she couldn’t figure out what precisely it was. “You should go next year,” she suggested. “See what happens.” She grinned. “They’ll probably be several new Toasters vying to take on the tradition.”

  His gaze found hers and he smiled, but it was weak, preoccupied. “True.” He glanced down at the small of her back again. “‘What’s past is prologue,’” he quoted.

  “Shakespeare. The Tempest, right?”

  She nodded, curiously short of breath. He was too close, too bare. Too damned sexy. All that warm male flesh was making her light-headed. She swallowed thickly. “Right.”

  Admiration clung to his smile. “Hidden depths,” he murmured. “When did you get it?”

  Ah, now came the tricky part. “Before I graduated,” she said mildly. “It was an early present to me.”

  Something in his gaze shifted, grew more intuitive. That keen green gaze studied her until she had to forcibly resist the urge to squirm. “It’s a great quote. Perfect for marking a new chapter in your life.”

  Yes, it was. It had marked her new chapter after his exit scene and, judging from the look on his face, he’d worked that out. She studied him levelly. “I thought so.”

  Actually, this was a good reminder, Mia thought. Tempted as she was to follow this attraction to its in evitable end, she was all too familiar with what would happen afterward. He would leave—again—and she would be devastated, undoubtedly needing another tat too to denote the occasion. Something like “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” And she’d have to put it down her arm or across her back to accommodate the size. She mentally grimaced. Unattractive.

  Regret suddenly shadowed his eyes, making dread balloon in her belly. “Listen, Mia—”

  Oh, no. Not another damned apology. The first one had been agonizing enough. She lean
ed away, lengthening the distance between them. “Oh, look!” she cried with feigned delight. “While You Were Sleeping is coming on. I love this movie.” She settled more firmly against the headboard and turned an imploring gaze to him, full of enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “Do you mind if we watch this?”

  Tanner regarded her and, for one horrified moment, she was afraid he wasn’t going to let it go, was going to insist on rehashing the past, particularly the bit where he’d broken her heart. Then his face relaxed and he smiled, hitching up a single corner of his mouth in that endearing grin of his. Her favorite, actually. “This is a chick flick, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  He grimaced comically. “I thought so.”

  “You can choose the next one,” she offered, then amended the gesture when a thought struck. She frowned. “So long as it’s not porn.”

  Tanner chuckled and then tsked with regret. “Damn. And here I’d been looking forward to watching The Penis Whisperer with you.”

  Mia felt her eyes widen and she choked on a laugh. The Penis Whisperer? Lord, help her. “You’ll live,” she replied drolly.

  Mia sighed. Whether she would or not until this was over remained to be seen.

  9

  WHAT’S PAST IS PROLOGUE , Tanner thought again as he watched Mia laugh at something on-screen. A tattoo she’d gotten right before they’d graduated…right around the time he’d broken up with her. A coincidence?

  Possibly, but he didn’t think so.

  Despite the fact that she’d agreed with him when he’d told her things were moving too fast, he’d known that he’d hurt her, had even hated himself for it. But he hadn’t understood the depth of the wound he’d inflicted until just a few moments ago.

  Damn.

  He was truly toxic, Tanner thought, self-disgust saturating every pore. And that was all the more reason he needed to keep his hands off her. The image of her bent over, hair hanging over one shoulder, painting her toes, her pink tongue sticking out as she concentrated on the process suddenly assailed him and he shifted because he’d gone so painfully hard.