Sophia wet her suddenly parched lips and tried to catch her breath. His gaze shifted from amusement to masculine appreciation, the look making her stomach jitter. The man was pure, three-dimensional nirvana. The long sleeves of his blue pin-striped button-down shirt couldn’t disguise his wide shoulders, his muscled biceps.
He was a dream come to life. And maybe—she pressed her hand against her stomach—just maybe she wasn’t ready to try and handle dreams in real life. They were so much safer in pictures.
It was like getting hit with a sexual force field. Towering a good four inches over her five-foot-ten-in-heels self, he exuded power. Charisma. Pure sexual energy.
“Can I have you—I mean, help you?”
2
TWO WOMEN IN A DIMLY lit room wrapped around an erection that’d do King Kong proud? Struggling against the urge to laugh, Maximilian St. James stepped farther into the storeroom for a better look. He wasn’t sure what amused him more—the gorgeous blushing brunette’s stammers or the scenario itself.
She was stunning. Golden skin that looked like silk over sharp cheekbones, a high forehead and perfect nose. Her lips were full and lush, making him think of deep, wet kisses. He looked into eyes as pale as her hair was dark, watching confusion, embarrassment and what his ego swore looked like lust stare back at him.
A giggle behind the brunette snagged his attention. He squinted at the sight of the other woman. She was…funky? Was that the right term? A cross between a rainbow-hued Goth princess and a very edgy pixie.
Quite the contrast to the dusky beauty staring at him as if he’d just dropped from outer space. His gaze moved past the women to the huge marble cock they’d been hugging.
Shouldn’t they be naked? Maybe chanting or something? Was he a pervert for wishing the brunette, at least, had been?
“Am I interrupting?”
At a narrow-eyed look from the taller woman, the pixie choked back her laugh.
Strong women were so damned sexy.
“We were just…” She trailed off, glancing at the statue. Wrinkling her nose, she just shrugged.
He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, but he did manage to hold back his laughter.
Obviously not as constrained, the pixie snorted. At an arch look from her boss, she excused herself to make a phone call, tossing one last naughty giggle over her shoulder as she left the room.
“I saw you just…” He let the words trail off the way hers had. His lips twitched again. “The offer to help is still open. It looks like you could use a strong back.”
A faint wash of color swept over her cheeks. She shifted her stance, stepping away from the statue and crossing her arms in a way that accented her curves beneath her loose jacket. His mouth stopped twitching and started drooling.
It was the first time in weeks that he’d felt something other than bone-deep exhaustion or soul-wearying stress pressing down on his shoulders. Maybe it was the year in the desert. Maybe jet lag after the flight into SFO from Afghanistan. Or maybe she was simply the most stunning woman he’d ever seen.
Despite his exhaustion, Max had been dreading this trip home. If he’d had his way, he’d have spent his month’s leave in Europe. In Hawaii. Hell, he’d have stayed in the Middle East if he’d had a choice. But now that he’d met Sophia, he was thinking he should be a little more grateful for family obligations and his promise to Rico.
“I’m Sergeant Maximilian St. James,” he said, striding forward to offer his hand. Her slender fingers disappeared in his wide palm. “Your brother is Specialist Santiago, correct? He asked me to stop by.”
Her scent, a rich, spicy floral, wrapped around him like an embrace. Delicious. He breathed deeply and smiled. He didn’t know what caused the slight tremor in her fingers. She could be intimidated by his size or be feeling an awareness similar to the one surging through his own system.
Discipline was as much a part of his DNA as his skeletal system. Max might be burned out, but he still knew how to maintain control. At least, on the surface. Beneath, though, he felt as if he’d just been rocked by an exploding bomb at the touch of her slender fingers in his.
“Sophia Castillo?” he asked when she continued to stare at him with those sky-blue eyes, looking like she was absorbing his very essence.
“Yes,” she finally said, her voice husky. She cleared her throat and appeared to pull herself together, then offered a proprietor-of-the-gallery-type smile. Friendly but not too familiar. He bet that look sold many a… His eyes went to the statue. Well, whatever she sold in this place. “I’m Sophia Castillo.”
“Didn’t Rico warn you I’d be stopping by?” He’d figured Rico, in typical big brother matchmaking fashion, had exaggerated his little sister’s need for someone to look out for her. He’d gone on and on about how she was all alone now. How she’d never run her own life, let alone the business she’d been left by her late husband. He’d made her sound like a twelve-year-old dropped in NYC with a bus pass and a teddy bear.
Rico’s hard sell had put Max on red alert. Guilt and obligation meant he couldn’t ignore Rico’s request to check on Sophia. But he could avoid his buddy’s little romance game. He’d labeled this a simple mission. Get in, do his duty, get out. Or in civilian terms, stop by, say hi, make sure she was handling Rico’s news okay, then hit the door.
But now? Judging from the dazed look in her eyes, maybe she could use a little help. And if it gave him an excuse to put off seeing his family for a few minutes, or even hours, so be it.
“Rico mentioned someone might, um, might visit. And I recognize you from your…from a picture Rico sent.” Another wave of heat, this time for reasons he didn’t understand, washed over her cheeks. “You’re in his squadron, aren’t you?”
“Squad leader,” Max acknowledged, noting the resemblance between his specialist and the woman in front of him. Her hair was a glorious black, falling in long waves over her shoulders and giving her the look of a Spanish princess. Slashing cheekbones, a wide mouth and strongly arched brows all defined a strong face. In contrast, her eyes were a cool sky blue, strikingly Anglo against her Latino features.
As if she just realized it was still there, she slid her hand out of his, then took a quick step backward. She ran her tongue over her full lower lip, glanced at the statue and then back at him. She appeared clueless as what to do next.
Maybe Rico was right. Maybe she really did need someone to look out for her.
“Well, thank you for coming by,” she said with a semblance of a smile. “I’d love to show you around but, well, as you can see, I’m a little busy at the moment.”
They both looked at the dick. Sophia squared her shoulders.
Max frowned.
“Rico just emailed you today?”
“Yes. Or, at least I just got it today. Sometimes his emails take a while to get through.”
“And he said…?”
Brow furrowed, she bit her lip and gave him a long, considering look. Her gaze dropped, for just a second, to where his hands rested in his pants pockets—or maybe a little at the center of the pockets, his ego goaded. Then she gave a tiny shake of the head and told him, “He just said someone from his squad would be stopping by.”
“That’s it?”
She hesitated.
“He also said you’d helped him out of a tight spot. Knowing Rico, I figure he borrowed money or got in trouble with a local girl’s brothers. Our dad always said Rico rolls through life like a bowling ball.”
Instead of returning her smile, Max didn’t move a muscle. His insides froze. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d been staring down the barrel of an enemy’s gun. She didn’t know?
In the space of his next breath, he analyzed all available options, mentally cursed his luck and decided to go with a soft-sell version of the truth.
“Rico’s fine,” he said first.
She frowned.
“He did have a little trouble, but it’s all taken care of. He’s catching up on a little res
t and giving some nurses a bad time.”
“Nurses?” Her olive complexion paled as her breath hitched. She clenched her hands and then unclenched them. As if she’d grabbed on to the fear and was letting it go before it overwhelmed her. “He’s hurt?”
“He’s—”
“Don’t tell me he’s fine again,” she snapped. She didn’t look helpless now. Then with a show of control he had to admire, she shook her head, took another deep breath and asked in a calmer tone, “Please. Tell me what happened to Rico.”
It was her control, rather than her distress, that had Max stepping forward to offer comfort. It was like stepping from the shadows into a warm puddle of sunlight.
“He injured his leg on a mission.” He said it brutally fast, knowing that news like this was better given all at once. “We were heading in to neutralize an explosive in a heavily populated area and there was an ambush. He caught some shrapnel in his leg.”
As she blinked back tears, her pale eyes studied him closely. “And?”
He didn’t move a muscle, but his insides winced. Wasn’t she supposed to be helpless and a little clueless?
“Sergeant? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’ve given you the pertinent details,” he said briskly, automatically falling into command mode. Considering his years of military training, his Nob Hill matriarch of a mother and a father who’d been a three-star general, he could pull on “uptight and reserved” like a second skin. “He was on a mission, he was hurt. He’s recuperating and will regain full use of his leg.”
And all Max had to do was close his eyes and he could see Rico—his tent mate, the guy he played poker with and shared middle-of-the night terrors—torn and broken. Pale and dead-looking, with blood pouring from his leg and rocks and debris covering his body. His friend. The man serving under him, who’d followed his orders. His responsibility.
He took a step away from Sophia as if he were stepping away from the memories.
“Was that the tight spot you helped him out of?” she asked, her voice tight, as if she were trying to keep tears from falling.
“I neutralized the insurgent responsible while the others on the squad contained the rest of the dissidents.”
“You saved my brother?” Her breath shuddered. Then she stepped toward him, laying her palm on his chest as if touching him would ensure his words were the truth. Max’s heartbeat increased, just a beat, at her touch.
God, no. He stiffened in horror that she’d cast him as a savior when he knew damned well if it hadn’t been for him, Rico wouldn’t have been hurt. Max was shaking his head before she finished asking. “We were just doing our jobs. Both Rico and I. Nobody was playing hero.”
“He said you helped him out of a tight spot. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“It was my job,” Max insisted through gritted teeth. Just like it’d been his job to send Rico in the first place. Max’s gut constricted, a single drop of sweat making a familiar trail down his spine.
It wasn’t his fault. Rationally, he knew that. It was his job to give the orders. Nobody could have anticipated the mission going sour. Rico didn’t blame him. The squad didn’t blame him. Logic dictated that he shouldn’t cast blame, either.
That didn’t mean they all weren’t wrong.
He glanced down at the long, slender fingers heating his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Then he looked into her worry-filled eyes, the lush black fringe of her lashes damp with unshed tears.
Max wanted her to be a little friendlier. But he wasn’t willing to use his job, her brother or the hellish realities of war to make it happen. He’d stick with charm, thank you very much. Then he’d know he’d actually deserved the affection he planned on earning.
Affection, he reminded himself, that would fly in the face of the friendship rules he’d reminded Rico of.
Which meant he’d have to step carefully. Bending rules was okay. Breaking them? Something to consider very, very carefully. Not that Max had ever found a woman who had tempted him enough for him to actually go that far. But there was something about the sweet Sophia…
“Look, Rico’s fine,” Max assured her, putting as much compassion into his tone as he could find. He knew he should step away, disconnect, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when she was so warm. “He’ll spend a few days in the hospital, then a week of R&R. If there were any thanks necessary, he’s already offered them. And in return, I promised him a favor.”
Max hadn’t meant to mention that. It must be the worry shadowing her eyes that’d wormed it out of him. She’d be a hell of an interrogator. All she’d need to do was look sweet and vulnerable and guys would be tripping over their words to get her to smile.
Then that worry shifted. First she frowned, just a little, then she narrowed her eyes. Just like that, they went from liquid to ice. Max was good at reading people. But as he watched Sophia’s face get tight and distant, he couldn’t tell if it was irritation or embarrassment. But what did she have to be embarrassed about?
“A favor?” she questioned softly.
“Friends do friends favors,” he defended, not sure why he suddenly wished for his bomb suit. “Why’s that a problem?”
“No problem. Unless, of course, that favor had anything to do with me.”
Smart woman.
“He just asked me to look in on you. Check and see how things were going.”
“Rico thinks I need a babysitter? That’s it?”
Max’s smile spread slowly. “What else could it be?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she muttered as she stepped back, putting some distance between them.
Immediately missing her scent, Max closed the distance again.
Her eyes narrowed. She took another step back. He took another step forward.
Her eyes narrowed. This time, he knew it was irritation.
“I appreciate the visit. But as you can see, I’m hardly the little girl Rico considers me. I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I don’t mind,” Max said with a grin. “Rico would do the same if I had a sister.”
“Ha. Rico can’t be trusted. If you introduced him to any woman, as long as she was of age, he wouldn’t think twice about seducing her.”
Was that like permission? Max’s grin grew so wide, it hurt his cheeks.
Sophia blushed. Then she drew her shoulders back and gave an aristocratic tilt of her chin.
“If you’re just getting back to the States, I’m sure you have things you want to do,” she said, her desire for his departure as blatant as the big ole penis she was standing in front of. “I appreciate you stopping by and bringing the news about Rico.”
She offered Max a distant smile. The kind you gave a stranger on the street. Brief and impersonal. He wasn’t sure why it annoyed him so much. He’d wanted her to treat him naturally, not to coat their exchange with misplaced gratitude. She obviously thought this was a courtesy visit and was happy to keep it at that.
But he wasn’t.
He wanted more.
“Soph?” They both turned, Max squinting a little at the sight of Sophia’s assistant. She wasn’t any less shocking the second time around. “I talked to the shippers. They’ll be here in ten minutes to pick up the crate.”
“Ten…?” Sophia puffed out a breath, her gaze bouncing from the other woman to the huge erection and then landing on Max. For just a second, she looked softer. Vulnerable.
Then she pulled herself together and offered her hand to Max to shake goodbye. He took her slender, warm fingers in his and held on. Her eyes widened in a look of heated curiosity. He’d seen that look often enough to know his interest was reciprocated.
Then she pulled her fingers away and stepped back. Apparently reciprocated didn’t mean welcomed.
“I guess I have a penis to pack,” Sophia joked. Then she winced and gave him a rueful look. “Or, well, you know what I mean. I really do appreciate you stopping by an
d reassuring me in person that Rico’s okay.”
Max hadn’t made Sergeant First Class in the U.S. Armed Forces by being slow, though.
“I’ll crate this up for you,” he offered with a manly smile. He hoped it didn’t show his distaste at handling any penis other than his own. “Then we can get a drink and talk about that favor to Rico.”
“I appreciate the offer, but Gina and I can handle things here,” she insisted.
Max wasn’t sure if she kept protesting out of pride, stubbornness or some weird need to have the statue to herself. But they were all stupid reasons, so he went with what he always did in cases like this. Exactly what he wanted.
Stepping around her, he eyed the polished mahogany base against the floor of the crate. He grabbed the three-sided box and gave it a shake to test for sturdiness. Satisfied, he nodded and turned back to the women.
“This should work fine.”
“Of course it’ll work fine. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first phallic statue we’ve dealt with,” Sophia told him, sounding a little affronted.
The magenta-haired Goth-pixie snickered.
“We’ll be fine, but thanks,” Sophia continued.
“Why won’t you take my help? I’m here and offering myself,” he insisted. Then, unable to resist, he added, “C’mon. You know you need me.”
Sophia opened her mouth, then pressed her lips tight. A hint of color warmed her cheeks. That look of interest was back, warming her blue eyes. Her gaze traveled the length of his body with a familiarity that made more than his shoulders snap to attention.
And yet, she still refused. What was with this woman?
“Thanks, but—”
“Sophia, we really could use his help. The delivery guy was laughing when he called. He said it took three of them to uncrate it.” The girl’s gaze danced behind her cat’s-eye frames as she swept her eyes over Max. Her eyes lingered, heated, and then she grinned as she inspected various body parts. He had to stop himself from covering his goods. “He definitely looks…big enough to handle the job.”
Uniformly Hot! Volume 1 from Harlequin: Letters from HomeBreaking the RulesComing Up for Air Page 17