Uniformly Hot! Volume 1 from Harlequin: Letters from HomeBreaking the RulesComing Up for Air

by Rhonda Nelson

  “Dude had a boob fetish,” Gina agreed, her gaze skimming the twenty framed photos they’d already uncrated and leaned against the walls. “And quit changing the subject.”

  “I didn’t. I told you my plans.” Then, because her calves were killing her, Sophia gave up all semblance of dignity and dropped flat to sit on her butt. She tilted her head, squinting at the six-photo series of a go-go dancer, trying to figure out what it was about the images that were nagging at the back of her brain.

  “You could be doing the romantic thing after the show,” Gina pointed out. “I am. I’m having midnight drinks and dinner with Art of Defiance.”

  Sophia’s gaze cut to the rock band pins keeping her assistant’s jeans from unraveling. “Which member?”

  “The whole band.” Gina waited for Sophia to pick her jaw up off her chest before giggling. “I’m their greeter girl for the after-party. Handing out carnations, Hershey’s kisses, that kind of thing. I might get lucky, though, and the guitarist will ask me out.”

  “That sounds…romantic?”

  “No,” Gina corrected with a happy shrug. “That sounds like sex. Which I hope you’ll be getting, along with something really romantic for Valentine’s. Hearts, flowers, chocolate. Bling is always good, too.”

  “All I’m getting is sex,” Sophia assured Gina. Despite the fact that she and Max had spent almost every waking minute together the past week, she had no illusions that she’d be receiving red roses, nuts and chews or anything glittery. Unless, of course, any of those came with her goodbye hug. Max was scheduled to leave the Wednesday after the show. Heading back overseas where he’d face down bombs and bad guys.

  Not a bad thing, given how important she knew serving the country was to him. But still, part of her wished it was a temporary goodbye instead of forever.

  Blinking away the tears, she focused on rubbing a nonexistent smudge off her jeans. Since when was an incredible sex life something to cry about? She had what she wanted. So what if she’d fallen in love with Max? Everything had a price. Apparently, the cost of the best sex of her life was a broken heart. It was worth it.

  It had to be.

  “The show will be romantic enough,” she eventually said. She ignored the long, worried look Gina gave her and hurried on. “Don’t you think it’s clever to tie the holiday in by calling it Ode to Love? It’s my attempt at de-eroticizing the displays.”

  “You don’t really consider these erotic, do you?” a voice said from the doorway.

  Gina giggled and offered Max a little finger wiggle, while Sophia just shrugged, leaning back against a crate and letting her eyes take in the man standing in front of her. He just kept looking better.

  He still wouldn’t tell her what was bothering him. He claimed it wasn’t anything important. But he had a look in his eyes, half sad, half furious, that made her heart ache.

  “I think I’m getting immune to erotic,” she told him with a smile, hoping to cheer him up. “You’ve ruined my prudish side.”

  “Nah. I’m sure it’d resurface pretty fast if someone tried to plunk another four-foot dick in the middle of one of your shows.”

  “Only if it had Christmas lights wrapped around it,” Sophia teased. Max’s smile flashed. He reached down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  “We’re going to take a break,” he told Gina as he wrapped an arm around Sophia’s shoulder.

  “It won’t be a long break,” she told Gina, curving her own arm around Max’s back. He was hard, warm and smelled wonderful next to her. Whenever she was this close, she just wanted to eat him up.

  “My apartment?” she murmured quietly.

  “Your office would be better,” he decided, steering her down the hallway. Sophia frowned. The office meant no sex. At least, it usually meant no sex. There had been a couple of times…

  “What’s up?” she asked him when he closed the door and released her.

  “How’s the show coming along?” he asked.

  Sophia narrowed her eyes. He had something else on his mind, but she was willing to play along. “We’re doing pretty well. Von Schilling’s got enough inventory for an entire show on his own, but we’re pulling in a couple other photographers anyway to balance his with some less controversial displays.”

  “But you’ve got a pretty good handle on it all?” He stood there, rocking back on his heels and looking as casual as ever. But she had the feeling he was mentally pacing.

  “I think so,” she said slowly. Not that she had a clue how to deal with her vandal. The creep had hit twice in as many days. Once spray-painting trash on the back door, then this morning calling the paper to put in an ad stating the cancellation of the show. Luckily Sophia had spent so much time on the phone with the editor of the lifestyle section that he’d called her to confirm before running it.

  Had Max figured something out? Was that why he looked so serious and stressed? Or was it because he hadn’t?

  “Are you arranging for security so there isn’t a repeat of the last show?” he asked.

  “I…” The man knew her panty size and what flavor body oil she liked. He’d held her hand while she fell apart, listened to her dreams. And he knew damn well the state of her bank account. So why was she embarrassed to tell him she was too broke to afford security for the show?

  “Will you let me take care of this for you?” he asked quietly. “I’ll call in a few favors, get a few guys I know who’re on leave to stand around and look tough. Low cost, no long-term commitment.”

  Sophia bit her lip. She needed this. She knew she did, and Max had made it as palatable as possible. There was a fine line between stubborn pride and idiocy. She might toe that line regularly, but she wasn’t going to jump over it.

  “I’d appreciate that,” she told him, stepping closer so she could wrap her arms around him. His hands soothed a comforting path up and down her back and she let herself relax. Eyes closed, her ear against his heart, she listened to the steady beat.

  What would she do without him?

  “I’ve taken care of a few other things, too,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Some of mine. Some of yours.”

  Not sure why she suddenly felt like a scary cloud of gloom had drifted into the room, Sophia slowly pulled back and looked into his face.

  No smile in his eyes. The grim set of his jaw.

  “This doesn’t sound good.” She stepped out of his arms and leaned against her desk. The look on his face made her think she was going to need the extra support.

  “No, it’s all good,” he assured her. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, the move emphasizing another good thing, which was how happy he’d been to have her in his arms.

  Telling herself not to get distracted, Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, arched one brow and waited.

  “First off, I received a change of orders,” he told her. Sophia’s breath caught in her throat as she noted the fury lurking in his dark eyes. “I was reassigned stateside.”

  Her heart leaped in joy. He wasn’t leaving the country? She could still see him. Then she remembered the look on his face when his uncle had suggested a change in orders.

  “I didn’t think there was much call for EOD stateside,” she said slowly.

  “There isn’t. If I’d taken the assignment, I’d have served at the Pentagon.”

  “If?” She actually heard the giddy bubbles of joy popping over her head.

  “I refused.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “Under most circumstances, no,” he acknowledged. “But I’d already termed out. My re-up contract specified EOD service in a battle zone.”

  She forced herself to only show calm interest, but her nerves were jumping like water on a burning skillet.

  “I’ve notified legal that unless they correct this breach of contract, I’ll be leaving the service.” His words were emotionless. His face was expressionless.

  And Sophia could clearly see he was miserable.r />
  How could she be thrilled in the face of such horrible pain? But it wasn’t as if she’d messed up his orders, right? She hadn’t encouraged or pushed him to leave the service. Hell, she’d never once said a word about it.

  She hadn’t mentioned the terror felt by those left behind when someone they loved was in battle.

  She’d even managed to keep herself from begging him to promise her a future, when she knew from Rico that pressure like that only made service more difficult.

  So why did she feel guilty?

  Maybe because while she hadn’t done any of those things, she’d definitely thought about them.

  “I’d think the Army would be more meticulous in their assignments,” she said quietly, trying to figure out what was beneath the surface of his anger.

  His stare was lethal. The anger wasn’t directed at her, but in those few moments it occurred to Sophia that he knew her inside out. Max knew her dreams, her goals, her fears. He knew what she wanted and what stood in her way.

  And she knew almost nothing about him.

  Unable to stand it any longer, Sophia pushed way from the desk. She wanted to pace, but didn’t think he needed the added stress.

  “The Army isn’t behind this problem,” he admitted. “This is direct nepotistic interference.”

  It only took her about three seconds to figure that out. “No way. Your uncle?”

  “Exactly.”

  Stunned, she dropped into the wingbacked chair and stared.

  “Are you going to let him get away with this?”

  “There is no getting involved. The chain of command is clear.”

  Sophia stared. Far be it from her to tell someone how to get pissed off. But, holy cow, shouldn’t he be doing something here?

  She started to ask what his uncle had said, then stopped herself. She opened her mouth to ask what he’d do now if he wasn’t going back to Afghanistan. Then she pressed her lips together. Her heart screamed at her to hurry up and nail down the details on their future together. Did they have one? How would this affect it? Them? Were they a them if they weren’t temporary?

  Her brain spun. Her stomach churned. Her nerves were shot, so she gave in to the need for comfort and pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  Why wasn’t he saying anything else?

  “You said you’d taken care of some things?” she murmured, needing a distraction to give her time to collect herself. “Was this the ‘yours’ part?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding and shifting his stance.

  “And the mine part would be?”

  He paused, looking like he was gathering his thoughts, then shifting gears. He walked over to the desk and, in the same spot she’d stood a few minutes before, leaned against it and crossed one ankle over the other.

  “The yours part is I’ve solved some of your gallery problems.”

  “You what?”

  “I’ve had someone watching the gallery and we’ve—”

  “Wait,” she interrupted. “You’ve had someone watching my building?”

  “Right,” he said with a nod. “The culprit rides a motorcycle. I have a partial plate number and talked to the police.”

  Before he could say anything else, Sophia held up her hand. She shook her head, trying to clear the buzzing from her ears.

  “You did what?”

  “Look, the police have a lead now. We can talk about that later. The important thing here is that you want to keep the gallery and make it a success, your vision of success.” He paused. She guessed he was waiting for her to agree, so she nodded.

  “In order for the gallery to be that vision, you have to come up with the money to buy the gallery.”

  He paused again. This time she didn’t humor him with a nod. Instead she stared, waiting.

  “You need money. You need a great deal of money and luckily you have a direct line to it. I just cleared things out of the way so you can use that line to reel it in.”

  “You took out a loan?” she guessed with a frown. He’d better not have after she’d told him she wouldn’t borrow money from him. But if he was staying, and they were a couple, maybe down the road they’d be more like partners. Him the silent partner with the money, of course, and her the vocal partner in charge.

  “I hired an attorney,” he corrected her. “He’s the biggest shark in the Bay area and after reviewing your case, he’s sure he can win it before the building is put up for sale.”

  “But Olivia is already negotiating a settlement,” she said blankly.

  “You shouldn’t have to settle for half. It’s all yours and you should fight for it.”

  Sophia saw black spots in front of her eyes. The room swam in a greasy wave of fury, making her ill it was so intense.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said quietly, trying to keep her tone even. “First you found a lead to who is behind the vandalism but didn’t bother to tell me you were even looking. And then you went behind my back and hired an attorney? Filled him in on the details, the private details, of my situation? You paid his retainer out of your own pocket. A pocket that’s now going to need to hold tight to its pennies since you’re out of work.”

  “My career isn’t the issue here,” he told her, his words a little tight. As if he’d caught on to her anger and was feeling defensive. As well he should. She wanted to hit him over the head with something, so defensive was smart on his part.

  “Your career isn’t the issue? Why do you get to decide that?” she demanded. “You poke your fingers all through my career. What makes you so special that yours is off-limits?”

  “Mine isn’t in danger like yours is,” he said, biting the words off as if they tasted nasty. Which, considering she could see the angry awareness in his dark eyes, she figured they must.

  “Really?” She knew it wasn’t fair to throw his destroyed career back in his face. She knew he was hurt and upset and feeling betrayed. But dammit, so was she.

  Maybe if the her news hadn’t come so close on the heels of the his news, she’d have been able to control herself. She’d had a whole three minutes of happiness and hope for a future together before he’d proven to her that there was no chance in hell they’d last beyond today.

  She surged to her feet and started pacing.

  “Because I could have sworn your career had just blown itself all to bits, Sergeant,” she tossed over her shoulder. His wince didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, being a bitch just made her feel angrier.

  “How dare you,” she snapped, the rope on her control fraying with each step. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m the man who cares about you and wants to make sure you get what you want, dammit.”

  “You?” she retorted. “You can’t even stand up to your own uncle and save your own dream career. So what gives you the right to decide what’s necessary to save mine?”

  For a second she thought she’d gone too far. His entire body froze. His glare made her want to hide under her desk. She waited for him to yell. To throw something. Nerves jittering, she shifted away from the chair in case he decided that’d be the best missile to send flying across the room.

  But Max did none of those things. His glare faded to ice. He pushed away from the desk, his eyes locked on hers.

  Then, without another word, he walked out the door.

  She wished he’d thrown the chair.

  12

  MAX STORMED INTO HIS mother’s house, letting the heavy door slam behind him with a loud boom. Like a bomb detonating. How apt, he thought. After all, his entire life was exploding around him.

  “Maximilian, what is wrong with you?” his mother demanded, halfway down the stairs, glaring at him like he’d just pulled a gun on her. Or spilled wine on her carpet.

  “Did you know Uncle Charles pulled strings and had me assigned stateside?” he demanded.

  From the look on her face and the infinitesimal shrug, it was clear his mother had known perfectl
y well what her brother-in-law had done.

  “He had no right,” Max said. “Neither did you. What the hell is with you people that you think you can sneak around behind people’s backs and screw them over?”

  “Watch your language, Maximilian.”

  “Or…what? You’ll destroy my career?”

  Shit. Max shoved his hand through his hair and ground his teeth. Son of a bitch. He hadn’t meant to say anything about that. Confrontations were futile in his family. The men clammed up in stubborn silence and Tabby melted into a puddle of tears when the yelling started. In Max’s experience, confrontations never led to resolutions. It was like trying to talk to the fanatic who just got a charge out of detonating a bomb.

  Pointless.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking that attitude after all we’ve done for you,” Tabby said. Typically, her words were accompanied by a teary-eyed sniff. “Your career is our business. Your father and I had a plan. When he died, your uncle stepped in to ensure the completion of that plan.”

  She led the way into the parlor, stopping just short of swiping the back of her hand over her forehead to declare herself the queen of the martyrs.

  “Dad might have wanted me to do things his way, but he understood when I didn’t,” Max said, standing in the doorway.

  Well, that stopped the waterworks. Tabby turned, jutting out her chin. She hated talking about his father. Apparently this family was all about holding things in and manipulating behind one another’s back.

  “When he wanted me to go to West Point and I enlisted instead, he was angry but he understood. Then he wanted me in communications. I trained in EOD.”

  “He worried about you.”

  “But he understood.”

  Tabby’s jaw worked, then she gave a slow nod. “He did. And he was proud of you.”

  “Then why can’t you be proud, too? Why would you ruin what I’ve worked so hard for?”

  His mother stared for a long, drawn-out moment. Then she shook her head. “It’s for your own good, Maximilian. You are too close to the situation to be objective.”

  “Too close to my own life?” he asked incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding.”