“The flood,” she blurted out.
Seth blinked. “What?”
“My apartment is a mess, you know, from the flood. I’m working two jobs, and we’ve got the summer recital coming up at the end of July, so I need to start thinking about solos and song selection and costumes. My life is a big ball of stress right now,” she confessed, though the reminder was more for her sake than his.
“All the more reason to welcome some no-strings, stress-busting sex into your life,” he pointed out with a grin.
“No strings,” she echoed.
“Not a single one.”
She swallowed. “And it’s on my terms?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I…don’t know.”
She didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to change her answer—or her mind. She wasn’t the kind of woman who jumped into a situation without giving it slow and careful consideration. Once upon a time she would have thrown caution to the wind and dived headfirst into a fling with this guy. These days, she didn’t have the luxury of spontaneity. She had her kids, her job, her livelihood to consider.
“I need to think about it,” she said quietly. “I won’t agree to anything until I’ve had a chance to think.”
After a beat, he released a ragged breath. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “Good night, Seth.”
With that, she left him in the kitchen and hurried down the hall, heart pounding, body throbbing, hormones yelling at her for having the audacity to demand time to think.
Sighing, she entered the guest room and resigned herself to the fact that, like Seth, she probably wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
* * *
“Yeah, so this is probably a major faux pas, but…dude, how much does naval intelligence pay you?” Dylan called in the direction of the hallway Aidan had disappeared into a few moments ago.
As he waited for the other man to return, he gawked at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and wondered if O’Connor and the others were aware that Aidan was living it up in the land of luxury over here.
Located in downtown’s Marina District, Aidan’s east-facing condo offered an unparalleled view of the San Diego skyline—that alone was confirmation of how pricey the place must be. The living room was furnished with two black leather couches, a rectangular glass coffee table, and an entertainment system that made Dylan drool. Even in his drunken state, he was able to fully appreciate Aidan’s digs and knew the rent must cost the guy a fortune.
“This is actually my dad’s place,” Aidan explained as he strode into the room wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants. “His architecture firm opened an East Coast branch last year and he decided to move out there, but he didn’t want to sell this place, so I’m subletting it.” Aidan grinned. “At a discount.”
Dylan shook his head in awe, admiring the electric fireplace and the French doors leading to the outdoor terrace. “Lucky you.”
“For real,” Aidan agreed with a chuckle. “Hey, did you still want that Advil?”
“That’d be great.”
“There should be some in the kitchen. I’ll grab you some water too.”
Aidan brushed past him and headed for the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a low wall with a “window” that allowed Dylan to watch the dark-haired man move around. His gaze lingered on Aidan’s chest—broad, sculpted with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Dude was in great fucking shape.
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen Aidan shirtless before. He must have—swimming at Matt and Cash’s place, on the beach…yeah, he had to have seen Aidan’s bare chest before.
So why did his mouth suddenly go dry at the sight of the guy’s washboard abs?
Dylan tore his eyes away. Clearly he’d had way too much to drink tonight.
“You sure you don’t want the stronger kind? I’ve got extra strength and the kind for migraines too,” Aidan said as he reappeared.
“Nah, I’m good. The pills and a few glasses of water will do the trick. It’s what I always do to avoid a hangover after a night of boozing.”
When Aidan slapped a pair of ibuprofens in his hand, the guy’s fingers lightly brushed over his palm.
His groin tightened, cock jerking against the fly of his cargo pants.
Oh fuck. Not now. And not this man.
He gulped down the pills and chugged the water, all the while feeling the other man’s dark eyes studying him.
“What?” Dylan said in aggravation.
“You need to fuck, don’t you?”
He nearly dropped the glass. “What?”
Aidan grinned, and a pair of dimples appeared. “I cock-blocked you tonight, man. Dragged you out of that alcove before you could finish up with the cute blonde from the dance floor, and I can only imagine how bad your balls are aching right now.”
Dylan relaxed. Right, the blonde. At the memory of Rachel—well, Rachel’s magical mouth—his dick jerked again. Well, at least the little soldier wasn’t discriminatory. Blondes, brunettes, girls, guys…didn’t take much to keep him happy. Some might even call him fickle.
“You win some, you lose some,” he answered with a shrug. But Aidan was right. He was definitely in fucking mode. Muscles tight, body primed for sex.
Another silence fell.
They exchanged a quick look, and Dylan could have sworn Aidan’s brown eyes flickered with heat.
Don’t even think about it.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I dragged you into the fight. I just wasn’t sure how far Masterson would go.”
“No, I’m glad you got me. Seth can be a total moron sometimes.”
“How long is his girl staying at your place?”
“A few days, I think. Maybe longer.”
“How old are her kids?”
“Six.”
Aidan chuckled. “Well, if you don’t feel like sharing a house with a couple of kids, you’re welcome to stay here for a bit. I’ve got a spare room.”
To his extreme disgust, his cock actually twitched again.
For the love of God, buddy, this is not happening. Chill the fuck out.
His lower body finally received the memo, much to his relief.
“Thanks, that’s good to know,” he said. “I’ll definitely consider it.”
“Cool. Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”
Dylan set off after Aidan, his gaze taking in the smooth expanse of Aidan’s sinewy back, the defined muscles that rippled at the guy’s every step. It wasn’t until he found himself mesmerized by the taut ass flexing beneath Aidan’s pants that he realized what he was doing.
Jesus. You’d think he’d been on the receiving end of a blowjob tonight, only to get interrupted right before he could ejaculate, and was now in a state of painful arousal…oh wait—that’s exactly what happened.
Fuckin’ Masterson.
He wrenched his eyes away from Aidan’s ass and took a breath, deciding that it had now become imperative for him to jack off tonight.
Otherwise he might do something very, very stupid.
9
Two days. Two whole days, and not one word from Miranda about the conversation they’d had Monday night. Defeat wasn’t something that sat right with him, which was probably why Seth was being unnecessarily harsh on the punching bag at the moment.
He was in the garage, trying to distract himself from his continuous state of unfulfilled arousal by using every piece of exercise equipment. He’d already lifted weights, hit the treadmill, and used the chin-up bar, and now he was on the punching bag, sweat running in rivulets between his pecs and down his back.
Thwack, thwack, thwack. He executed a series of jabs that made his knuckles throb, despite the fact that he’d wrapped them up. The soreness was the wake-up call he’d needed, the unspoken warning that it was time to stop. He couldn’t bust up his hands, not when he was scheduled to spend the day at the targ
et range tomorrow mastering a new assault rifle the spec ops community was considering utilizing.
Breathing hard, Seth stilled the swinging bag. He unwrapped the white cloth from his hands, grabbed his bottle of water, and chugged it all in one gulp.
He’d just finished drinking when he heard the footsteps. Two sets of footsteps, both far too quiet to be Miranda’s, he realized in dismay.
Sure enough, he glanced over in time to see Sophie and Jason pop through the door that led from the kitchen to the garage. They scampered down the short flight of stairs and plopped down on the last step. Two pairs of brown eyes proceeded to watch him. One suspicious. One curious.
“What?” he said irritably.
“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked, his inquisitive gaze moving around the garage.
Seth reached for the towel he’d draped on the weight rack and patted the sweat coating his neck. “What does it look like, kid? I’m working out.”
“Why are your arms so much bigger than mine?”
He shrugged. “I’m older. And bigger. And I train.”
“Will I get as big as you when I get older?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Seth had promised Miranda that he’d be nicer to the rugrats, and he’d been trying his hardest to keep his word. For the past two days, he’d made small talk with the kidlets over meals, put forth an effort to answer the billion questions Jason hurled his way, pretended not to notice Sophie’s perpetual scowl every time she looked at him.
He’d been polite, cordial, respectful…and had that expedited Miranda’s thinking process in any way? Not at all.
He headed for the minifridge and got another bottle of water. He uncapped it, feeling the twins watching his every move. They disturbed him on a whole other level, those two. Especially Sophie, who was currently playing with the end of one of her pigtails and tapping one tiny ballet slipper on the wooden step.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.
“What?” he grumbled.
She pursed her lips for a moment before answering. “I don’t like you.”
Her brother looked absolutely horrified. “Soph!”
“Well, it’s true! And you don’t like him too!”
“But I’m not gonna tell him!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not nice.”
“He’s not nice. He doesn’t like us.”
“Yes he does!”
“No he doesn’t!”
Seth observed the verbal ping-pong match without comment. Despite his better judgment, he found himself smiling, a reaction that startled as well as annoyed him. He wasn’t supposed to be amused by the rugrats. He was supposed to keep an indifferent air, give them the absolute minimum amount of attention, and high-five himself when they were finally gone.
As the twins continued to argue, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you go find your mom? She’s leaving for work in a couple of hours. Don’t you want to spend some time with her before she goes?”
Their bickering died abruptly.
“She’s on the phone,” Jason informed him.
“And we don’t like you,” Sophie added.
“So-phie!”
Seth swiftly held up his hand to silence them, not in the mood for round two. “Listen, kid.” He shot Sophie a look that usually made grown men cower—and didn’t get so much as a blink from the six-year-old. “I don’t care whether you like me or not.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t care ’bout anything,” she shot back. “Because you’re mean. And I don’t like it here!”
“Soph!” Jason’s face was so red he looked like a little dark-haired tomato.
“It’s fine,” Seth told the boy. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway, because you guys won’t be here for much longer. You’re going back to your place tomorrow or the day after, remember? And FYI, I’m not mean.”
Sophie smirked. “Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
Holy sweet baby Jesus, was he actually playing the Are-Not game with a six-year-old?
Gritting his teeth, he fixed both children with a stern glare, pointed to the stairs and said, “Go find your mom. Now.”
This time the look did the job. The tone must have helped too, because the kids shot to their feet and hurried up the stairs like they were being chased by bloodhounds.
Once they were gone, Seth let out a breath. Well, that had been unpleasant. And now he’d lost all enthusiasm for his workout.
Muttering a string of curses, he headed upstairs and emerged in the kitchen, where he found Dylan at the counter preparing a turkey sandwich.
“Did you really just tell those angel-faced children that you hated them?”
Seth’s jaw fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“They just came running through here like bats out of hell. Sophie said you told them you hated them.”
Lying little imp.
“I did no such thing,” he muttered.
Dylan had the nerve to grin. “I like that kid. She’s got sass. Wish she was around all the time, just so I’d get to see that angry, pulsing vein in your forehead more often.”
“Well, we might be around a while longer,” Miranda spoke up from the doorway.
Seth turned as she walked in with a twin on either side. Visible lines of unhappiness marred her mouth, and her hazel eyes glimmered with frustration.
“I just got off the phone with our landlord,” she explained. “There’s been a delay, and now he says we can’t move back in for another week.”
Seth frowned. “What happened?”
“I was too upset to pay attention to the details, but Marco said there was more damage than they thought, and something about ordering more materials. I don’t know. Oh, and apparently the living room wall, the one right underneath the gutters? The drywall and insulation need to be torn out and replaced.”
“That sucks.” Sympathy rang from Dylan’s tone.
She made an angry noise. “I knew those construction guys were acting weird when I was there earlier today. I kept asking what was wrong, but they wouldn’t answer me.”
Her misery was written all over her pretty face, which made her appear younger. Actually, no, it made her look her age. Normally, he completely forgot that she was only twenty-four—she carried herself with a maturity that surpassed her years—but when her eyes filled with unshed tears and her lips quivered with frustration, her youth was unmistakable. It made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her close.
“It’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “You guys can stay here as long as you need.” He glanced at his roommate. “Right?”
“Right.” Dylan got a funny look on his face. “I’ll even let you have my room, so you’re more comfortable.”
“Oh no, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine bunking in the guest room with the twins.”
But Dylan was adamant. “That double bed can’t be big enough for all three of you. It’s all right, honey, I’ve got a friend with a spare room and he already said I can crash there whenever I need.”
“I can’t put you out of your own home.” Her voice trembled. “I refuse to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience. Besides, I could use a change of scenery.”
Seth studied Dylan’s features, wondering why he seemed so eager to leave. He must have been talking about Jackson—Texas was the only one Seth knew with an extra room—but why the hurry to move in with the guy?
In all honesty, Seth would prefer it if Dylan stayed home. The dude was amazing with Miranda’s kids. He watched movies with them, joked around with them, even gave them piggyback rides on command. Without Dylan there to entertain the kids, Seth would be forced to spend more time with them.
But it was clear Dylan was dead set on jumping ship.
Asshole.
“I’ll make up the bed and get the room ready for you,” Dylan told Miranda. “And quit arguing. As lo
ng as you’re staying here, you deserve your own room, okay?”
“Okay,” she said weakly.
Seth fought another urge to cross the kitchen and take her in his arms. She’d probably slap him if he tried. Besides, the twins were clinging to her legs like spider monkeys, looking unhappy about this latest turn of events.
“I wanted to go home,” Sophie whined.
“Me too! All my toys are at home.”
Miranda seemed to snap out of her thoughts. “Actually, most of our things are in Seth’s garage. I spent the last two days packing up all the dry clothes and toys and bedding. Remember the boxes I showed you?”
The twins nodded.
“Well, that’s our stuff. If you want, why don’t we pick out a few items that you can keep in the guest room?”
Sophie’s brown eyes lit up. “Like Belinda?”
Miranda’s expression grew strained. “I’m sorry, sweetie, Belinda isn’t in any of those boxes. She was too wet and dirty. I couldn’t save her, hon.”
“She’s dead?” Sophie wailed.
Seth swallowed a groan, knowing the waterworks were about to make an appearance. But although tears clung to Sophie’s dark eyelashes, the kid kept her cool, triggering a spark of grudging admiration.
“Will you get me another doll?” Sophie asked in a small voice.
Miranda smiled and tugged on one of her daughter’s pigtails. “Of course I will. But not today. For now, why don’t you put on your shoes and we’ll go to the garage and find you some toys.”
Both kids dashed out of the kitchen, leaving Seth alone with Miranda.
She eyed him for a moment, wary, reluctant.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said roughly.
“Kim’s coming over in an hour to babysit.”
He arched a brow. “And?”
“And then I’m going to the club.” She hesitated. “I’m only working until midnight.”
He refused to acknowledge the tiny spark of hope that hovered in his chest. “Where are you going with this, Miranda?”
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, gnawing, revealing her evident nervousness.
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