by Tawny Weber
He gave Tessa a hesitant smile.
“For editorial, the new columns and article slant are vital. The entire magazine revolves around your style, your voice. If you were to begin expanding focus, we’d see the impact much sooner.”
“Which means what?” she asked, giving up on saving her makeup—or her eyeballs—and pressing her fingers against her brows to try to relieve the pressure. He wanted her to write articles on flirting with your spouse and date nights for married couples? The Top Ten Pickup Lines to Use While Doing Dishes Together? How was she supposed to do this?
“Which means if you’re spearheading the changes, odds are more readers will engage. Then, instead of waiting six months, we could probably go back to the negotiating table in two.” Noting the shocked looks on the women’s faces, Jared offered a reassuring smile. “Hey, there’s no guarantee it’ll pan out. If it doesn’t, these changes will still make the magazine stronger.”
“And if it does?” Tessa asked quietly.
“If it does, and we’re all in agreement, we sell the company.” He lifted both palms and shrugged. “Then we three go our separate ways, all the richer.”
“Go our separate ways...” she repeated on a sigh.
“Nothing lasts forever.”
* * *
GABRIEL WASN’T A man who believed in judging others.
He’d never ragged on the guys who spent their off hours on the phone with their ladies instead of partying or blowing off steam. He’d never understood it, though.
Until Tessa.
Suddenly he was turning down invites to drive to the nearest base and party at the officers’ club because he might catch Tessa before she went to work. He was making excuses to bow out of card games because Tessa should be home from work on her side of the world. He’d even debated giving up sleep one night to call her while she was off work. Except he knew he needed to be fresh and at 100 percent for maneuvers. Especially now that word had come down what they were training for. It was going to be big, and given that Jackrabbit was still being a jackass, Gabriel needed to be on top of his game. As much as he’d like some Tessa time, he couldn’t let the team down. He had no problem blowing off bartenders and suckers who wanted to give him their poker money, though.
He watched a few of his teammates and a handful of the support crew head for town, their headlights bright against the desert terrain. Then he vaulted onto the back of one of the cargo trucks, got comfortable and pulled out his cell phone.
It only took two rings before she answered.
“So what’re you wearing?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he asked with a grin, barely noticing as the bands of stress and worry unraveled from his chest.
“Have you ever taken me—or rather, mistaken me—for a traditional kind of woman?”
“Sexy, gorgeous, sweet, clever, savvy, tempting, smart, intriguing, mouthwatering,” he recited, imagining her face. A task made easy since he saw it every night in his dreams. “Nope, no traditional on my list.”
“Well, then?”
Gabriel glanced down at the camouflage pants tucked into heavy boots, the familiar feel of his sidearm nudged against his hip.
“Let’s just say I’m dressed for action,” he teased.
“Whatever sort of action you’re getting, I’ll bet what I’ve got is better,” she promised in a tone that sent dual shafts of need straight through his body. Since sex was as vital to his well-being as air, he was pretty familiar with the physical need. But the emotional need? He’d never felt that before.
Which made her even more dangerous than the action he was seeing here on maneuvers, he realized. He just wasn’t sure how he wanted to deal with that fact. Avoid, engage or eliminate?
“What’d you come up with for your fifth spring break pickup line?” he asked, figuring it smarter to change the subject than to worry about all that crazy thinking right now.
“‘I forgot my number, can I have yours?’” she said in a deep voice, ending with a laugh.
“Seriously? Something that cheesy would work?”
“Not on me, but it’s all about the audience,” she reminded him. “Spring break usually means drunk coeds and wet T-shirt contests. Cute and cheesy go hand in hand.”
She paused, and he could easily imagine she was scrunching her brows together as she shook her head, her long hair sliding over that silken skin. His body, already stirring at the sound of her voice, hardened more.
“How can you be so hot and not know these things?” she asked. “I can’t believe you are so seriously bad at pickup lines.”
He grinned at the memory of their brainstorming session a few nights ago. She’d rejected every one he’d come up with, finally suggesting that he ask the team for theirs instead.
“I told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. I don’t need pickup lines.”
“Right. Because the women throw themselves at you,” she teased. “Poor guy, I’ll bet you can’t even have a nice, quiet night out with the boys without having to climb over the prostrate bodies of your worshippers.”
“It’s a rough life,” he agreed. “As I’m sure you know, seeing as you can’t have a nice, quiet night out with the girls without having to fend off your own worshippers spouting lousy pickup lines.”
“If they read my next column, they’ll have some amazing pickup lines,” she pointed out. “No thanks to you, of course.”
“Hey, now,” he protested halfheartedly.
Her laugh was pure delight, filling him with a weird sort of feeling, like a warm glow in his chest.
“How goes countdown: wedding?” he asked, not really caring but not willing to analyze that weird feeling. He’d taken a few hits to the chest that morning. He’d write it off to internal injuries.
“Oh, you know, a change here, a change there,” she said, the smooth words not quite disguising the hurt and frustration he could hear beneath. “I guess Livi found a different dress, so the ceremony will be a little more formal to accommodate it.”
More formal? Gabriel could feel the imaginary tie choking him.
“What happened to that perfect dress the two of you spent weeks finding?” he asked, remembering her tales of traveling from store to store, town to town, with Livi. That was pretty much the most excited he’d heard her in any discussion about the wedding.
“Oh, boy. Pauline found some table scheme she liked better and wanted to change around a few things. By the time she was done, nothing was the same.”
Gabriel had never understood the whole wedding hoopla. A party was a party, wasn’t it?
He’d take a life-or-death mission over planning a wedding any day. And from the sound of it, Tessa probably would, too. If nothing else, he knew he should be grateful that no matter how bizarre, overwhelming and unexpected his feelings for her were, she was as antimarriage as he was. It was like having a fail-safe built into their relationship.
Gabriel blinked at the pitch-black night, his frown sliding into a scowl.
Were they actually in a relationship?
How the hell had that happened?
Maybe he should have stuck with his usual MO. Dive right into great sex, revel in the pleasures, then move on.
But instead, he’d outsmarted himself. He’d been so focused on getting Tessa hooked, on making her want more than just great sex, that he’d somehow hooked himself, too.
Sliding into battle mode, his mind raced as he considered the options and angles. Emotional trajectory was a different field for him, but he didn’t figure it could be any more hazardous than targeting explosives. All he had to do was shift his aim by a careful margin and he’d be back on track, avoid the emotional tangles and still achieve his target of incredible sex.
With that in mind, Gabriel slid down a little lower against the b
ack of the truck, let his head fall to rest on the cool metal and closed his eyes.
“Poor baby,” he murmured. “It sounds as though you need something to take your mind off all that wedding drama. If I were there, I’d take care of that for you.”
“Would you, now?” she purred, easily falling in with the sexy talk.
“I’d start with a massage,” he decided. “Hot oil, hard hands, your bare skin. My fingers are magic, you know. They’ll find the perfect spot to drive all thought out of your mind, the perfect pressure to send your body into a melting puddle of pleasure.”
“Mmm,” she breathed. “I can’t wait.”
“Just a few more days,” he said, the husky growl a promise to them both. A few more days and, somewhere between all the wild sexual positions he planned to explore with her body, he’d find time for a massage. “In the meantime, why don’t you hit the spa there at the hotel? Loosen up a little so you’re not so stressed.”
Not that he had any doubts about his ability to get her off in record time, stress or no stress. But he didn’t like the idea of her being all tensed up until he could take care of her.
“I’m not in Catalina yet. I was called in for an emergency meeting at Flirtatious yesterday that’s had me tied up at home.”
His smile fell away at the edge in her voice, the easy sexual buzz bursting as concern took its place.
“Did you figure out what’s going on with your partner?” he asked. A partner Gabriel planned to meet and assess for himself as soon as he was back on base. The guy sounded like a cross between a boy-band wannabe and a used-car salesman. Gabriel had no doubt that Tessa could handle the guy, but he’d still like to get a look for himself.
“I have a pretty good idea what’s up,” she said in a worried tone. Then she cleared her throat and added brightly, “But that’s boring. Work drama is no more fun than wedding drama. I’d much rather talk about something sexier...like the fact that you never did tell me what you’re wearing.”
Her voice dropped to a seductive pitch, but there was a chilly edge to it that told Gabriel just how upset she was. Tessa used her sexuality as a shield, throwing it out there to push people away.
He understood. A part of him wanted to push her, to accuse her of closing him out, using charm and flirtations to distract him while hiding her true self. Except he’d been on the receiving end of that accusation enough to know how irritating it was to hear, even if it were true.
Besides, he’d decided only minutes ago that this was all about sex. So why did he care that she was making sure it stayed there? He clenched and unclenched his fist, imagining himself crushing the frustration that surged at that choice. Didn’t matter. Neither of them were relationship material, so they should focus on what they were best at.
Pleasure.
“All I’m wearing is a towel,” he said. “It’s knotted at my waist, but I’ll bet nimble fingers could untie it pretty fast.”
“I’ll bet a clever mouth could get it off even faster. My fingers would be busy exploring what’s beneath it. I’d slide them up your thighs, maybe skim one hand around to see if your ass is as tight and sweet bare as it is in those jeans you wear.”
“As tight and sweet as the hot temptation between your thighs?” he asked, easily sliding into sexy talk while ignoring the chiding voice in the back of his head warning that he was just fooling himself by thinking he could contain something this powerful.
“If you touch me, you’d know that I’m not only tight and sweet, I’m wet and waiting,” she said, her quickening breath audible over the phone. “After I nip that knot open and let the towel fall to the floor, I’d let you touch me. Just one finger, though, and only for a moment. Long enough for you to see how wet I am, to taste my juices.”
“Do you really think I’d stop at one moment once I touch you?”
“You’d have to,” she promised. “Because as soon as you taste, I’ll move. I’ll shift to my knees again and slide my lips over your rock-hard shaft. I’ll lick you like a lollipop, nibbling and tasting every long, throbbing inch.”
Gabriel’s own breath was coming faster now. His dick was rivaling concrete beneath his zipper, blood pounding through it like a drumbeat.
“You’re killing me,” he admitted with a groan. “You have no idea how hard this is.”
“I’ll bet I could make it harder if I could really touch you,” she said with a husky laugh.
“Believe me, I’m more than ready to be touched,” he said. He was pretty sure he’d hit a new record for days with an unrelieved hard-on. It was a small camp, too small for enough privacy to relieve the intense sexual pressure he’d been sporting since he’d started this little game with Tessa.
“A couple of days,” she promised.
He almost threw his phone across the desert when it buzzed, signaling that he’d reached the call limit. His body screaming protests, he clenched his teeth, angled himself upright and took a deep breath.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said, unable to disguise the frustration in his tone.
“Aww, and just when things were getting good.” Instead of frustration, Tessa’s voice was filled with laughter. Not exactly ego boosting, but he was glad the stress and tension from earlier was gone.
“Sucks, but I’ve hit my transmission limit,” he said, glancing at the phone to see he only had seconds left. “I guess nothing lasts forever.”
Her quick intake of breath was sharp and painful, making him frown through the sexual haze.
“Be safe” was all she said, though. Then the phone went dead. That was it. No recriminations, no begging for assurances he couldn’t offer.
Damned if she wasn’t amazing.
His forearms resting on his updrawn knees, Gabriel stared out into the desert, the pitch-black canvas offering no distraction as he imagined Tessa’s face. He’d planned this with the same care and precision he’d plan a mission. He’d figured romance was just a fancy way to package up sexual foreplay. Another type of game that’d give him the upper hand in this ongoing challenge with a woman he hadn’t figured out yet. No big deal, right?
Define your path, stand your ground and never let anyone else’s actions define your own. The basis for every one of his other life rules. Like the one about going it alone as long as he served in the Navy.
He’d defined the path with Tessa by insisting they have a romance, and as hard as it’d been—he shifted uncomfortably at the pun—he’d stood his ground. But her actions, her reactions, the simple sweetness he’d discovered beneath the sexy exterior... All of that had him considering some serious redefining.
He dropped his forehead to his knees, replaying the ricocheting slew of emotions that’d rammed through his system in that seven-minute phone call. He’d never felt these things before. He blew out a breath. Maybe it was time to consider rethinking a few of those rules. Like the one about going it alone...
“Petty Officer Thorne, you got a minute?”
9
GABRIEL JUMPED DOWN from the truck bed, a frown curving his mouth. He cast a quick glance around, but nobody else was there but Irish. Since when did Donovan refer to him by his rank when they were alone?
“Sir,” he responded, automatically coming to attention.
“We need to discuss the incident that took place on the field today.”
“Incident?” Gabriel’s gut clenched but his blank expression didn’t change. Irish hadn’t been on the field today. He’d been at headquarters being briefed on the training changes and mission details.
“Oh-eleven-twenty-three, equipment malfunction that resulted in a blow to your chest, sending you flying across the back of a Humvee into a building, the resulting collision possibly offering warning to the natives that unfriendlies were in the area. You made up the loss of those approximate three minutes by scrambling, still
managing to detonate the explosive on schedule, hence allowing the rest of the team to complete their mission unencumbered by said incident.”
That clenching in Gabriel’s gut tightened to a vicious knot, both at the recital and at the officiously cold stance it was offered in. Then the knot twisted painfully as he realized how Irish must have got his information.
Scavenger? He knew Shane was pissed over Jackrabbit’s games, but he’d never have imagined the guy doing an end run around his order to let it go. So who? Mr. Wizard? Bad Ass? Auntie?
Gabriel’s belly burned with the embers of betrayal.
“Who’s the rat?”
Irish’s expression barely changed. A slight shift of his brow, his lips tightened and his shoulder twitched maybe a millimeter.
And just like that, chastisement.
Gabriel gritted his teeth, realizing that was one of the things that made Irish such a stellar leader. The man knew how to push buttons with just a look. Now instead of being righteously indignant at being ratted on like a schoolboy, he felt like a total jerk for questioning the motivation of his teammates.
“Lieutenant Banks is leading this operation,” Irish informed him in that same official tone. “He wrote the book on protocol and follows it to the letter. So much so that he’s been known to lead a mission one man short when one of his team sustained a minor injury.”
Still smarting at the unspoken reprimand, Gabriel shrugged.
“Didn’t that prove to be a mistake?” he asked, since that particular mission had resulted in Banks being captured.
“Trusting the wrong person proved to be the mistake.”
Shit. Gabriel closed his eyes, rocking back on his heels for just a moment while he tried to shake off the feeling of being an absolute dick. He wasn’t privy to the details of that mission, but he’d caught enough rumors to know that Banks had tried to warn command of the potential mole but intelligence had ordered him to proceed as planned.