She was as quiet as he’d ever seen her. It was like watching the surface of a ripple-less pond. You knew the water was deep, but it was so still, you had no idea just how deep it was.
Her eyes appeared black rather than their normal dark blue in the moonglow. For a second he had the fanciful thought—and he wasn’t a man ever given to fanciful thought—that she looked almost otherwordly, as if she was cast of the same stone as her Mercury garden statue. Instinctively he traced a finger over the curve of her cheek. Yes, warm, soft flesh—no cold hard concrete or marble there. It was as if his touch brought her back to life.
“I would be supremely honored to photograph the reunion of five war dogs. But I have one stipulation.”
“Name it.”
“It’s gratis.”
That was bullshit. “No. I’m not taking advantage of you. If you do it, then I’m paying you your going rate.”
“Mitch, we both know it was my rash action that stuck you with the calendar assignment.”
“And your point is?”
“I sort of owe you.”
“Baby, you don’t owe me anything. From where I’m sitting, this assignment has worked out just fine for me. I’d already checked out who you were and why you were here, but I’m not sure our paths would’ve crossed again if I hadn’t been given the assignment.”
“Oh, our paths would’ve crossed. I had already quizzed Sanchez about you.” She made a little moue of disapproval. “You’ve got to show more initiative Lieutenant Colonel. I had to kiss you. I was prepared to look you up.” She shook her head. “You really wouldn’t have come looking for me?”
She was teasing but there was a note of seriousness, as well.
Mitch wasn’t going to lie to her. It was his modus operandi and regardless she deserved the truth. “No. I wouldn’t have.”
The truth he didn’t voice, however, was the realization that hit him dead in his gut. He wouldn’t have gone looking for her because Eden Walters scared the hell out of him.
OUCH, OUCH, AND DOUBLE OUCH. He wouldn’t have come looking for her. Well…that wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. She’d asked. She’d pushed. And he’d told her.
She put it in perspective. They’d both known this was a three-day affair…which looked as if it might extend to a five-day affair. And now she was going to meet his grandfather. So, while he wouldn’t have come looking for her, well, she’d just have to let that go.
“The assignment sounds really interesting. And it’s not as if I have any work scheduled for the weekend, so it’s not bumping me out of a project,” she said.
“You think it sounds interesting?”
“Of course. It’s living history. I’ve never had an assignment I didn’t find interesting. There’s merit and value in everything all around us. And for me, I get to capture it. Generations from now someone may look at a photo I took and it’ll provide an insight, a glimpse of a time that’s since passed. It’s posterity.” Okay, so she’d gotten a little carried away. “And now I’ll climb down off of my soapbox.” She tugged the sheet back up.
“I don’t mind your soapbox,” he said, his voice quiet, reflective. “I never thought of what you do in those terms.”
“Lots of people don’t.” Certainly her parents didn’t see it that way. “But that’s okay. It’s just my take on my career.”
“There are two aspects to society. Structure and culture. Without structure, culture can’t thrive.”
There was no judgment in his voice. He was simply throwing it out his opinion. “And without culture, structure can become oppressive,” she countered, her intellect as aroused as her body had been half an hour before. Eden sat up, tucking the sheet around her and Mitch propped himself on the pillow next to her.
And in the moonlit bed, she and Mitch Dugan rambled on about social order, culture, even Sun Tzu’s The Art of War—she wasn’t sure why he was so surprised she was familiar with the sixth century B.C. Chinese military treatise—until past midnight.
And just because they could agree to disagree on certain points—and agreed on far more points than she would’ve imagined—that still didn’t mean Mitch Dugan was the right man for her. No matter how good he was in bed.
Nope. Three days had become five and then it was over. Even great conversation and even greater sex wasn’t going to change that.
10
“THAT’S A WRAP,” EDEN SAID and Mitch silently applauded. McElhaney had been part of the final shoot and the sonofabitch had pissed him off to no end. McElhaney had been coming on to Eden all afternoon. She’d ignored what she could and dismissed the rest. A couple of times Mitch had been tempted to intercede but she’d sent him a back off glance and Mitch had to respect that she knew what she was doing.
“How about a drink now that we’re done with business?” McElhaney persisted.
Sorry, buddy, but she’s got plans. We’re going to go at it all night long.
“Thanks, but I have another commitment.”
“What about afterward?” McElhaney’s ego was puncture-proof.
“Let me put this as plain as I know how to put it, Captain McElhaney. I do not want to have dinner, a drink, or even a further conversation with you. I think that should pretty much clear things up for you. Thank you for your time on the calendar.”
“You can’t just dismiss me like that,” McElhaney said, taking a menacing step forward.
Enough was enough. No one talked to Mitch’s woman that way. Mitch stepped between McElhaney and Eden. “She just did. I’d suggest you leave now, McElhaney. Assignment over.”
Reluctantly, McElhaney backed down and left but not without a sneer at both Mitch and Eden. Mitch had a gut feeling that had he not interceded, McElhaney would’ve crossed a line and then his ass would’ve been nailed. But not even for the satisfaction of finally bringing McElhaney down could Mitch allow the asshole to bully Eden.
He turned to her. “I know you were handling it. But he crossed the line and I—”
“It’s fine. Really. I appreciate it. You were right about him. He photographs well, but he’s certainly obnoxious. I’m not sure he’ll make the final cut.”
She’d photographed fourteen candidates with the understanding that she’d choose the best dozen and two would be cut. “I can’t think of a better guy to dump from the project,” Mitch said. “So, this wraps everything up?”
“It’s a wrap. I heard from Sergeant Sanchez earlier today, so I need to swing by their place to do the photos I promised.”
“I could help you out with that, if you wanted me to. I know my way around the base and Fayetteville, and I’m getting to be a pretty damn good assistant, if I do say so myself.”
“A little fine-tuning and I might keep you,” she said with a teasing smile. And then the words lingered between them and seemed to shift and morph into something deeper and more meaningful. She shifted her weight from one foot to another and took a sudden interest in packing away her camera equipment. They both knew there’d be no “keeping” happening on either side.
“THAT’S IT. PERFECT. LAST ONE.” Eden snapped off the picture of Sgt. Sanchez with his daughter, Cassie, riding on his shoulders, Liz laughing and holding the toddler in place. “That’s definitely a keeper.”
Eden couldn’t wait to see that shot printed in black and white. “My assistant, Valerie, can send you a disc next week for you to look at and pick your favorites. Or she could e-mail them, if you’d rather.”
Mitch stood to the side quietly, watching, seemingly at ease. Eden had the sense that he’d actually enjoyed watching the session with the Sanchez family. She was impressed that for a man used to being in charge, he was equally good at stepping aside and letting her do her own thing. That had certainly never been the case with her parents. Brigadier General Max Walters was always in charge of every situation, whether it was his own or not.
Sanchez laughed. “Seeing as how my wife is the e-mail queen—”
Liz cut him off with an elbow to his
side. “E-mail would be great. It saves on postage.”
Everyone, even Cassie, laughed as Eden and Mitch moved toward the door. They’d been great subjects to work with because the affection between husband and wife was blatant and their daughter reflected it in spades.
“Thank you again, so much,” Liz said, her warm smile enveloping Eden. “I still can’t believe you’d make the time to come photograph our family.”
“It was my pleasure. And it doesn’t begin to compare to what your family has given.”
Liz reached out and hugged her, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Thank you. Have a safe trip back to New Orleans. You leave tomorrow?”
“Yep. A bright and early flight. I’ll be in touch.”
Behind her Mitch and Sanchez exchanged a quick handshake.
“Nice family,” Mitch said once they were in his truck, backing out of the driveway.
“Very.” She realized that even though she’d been intimate with this man and felt some crazy connection, there was so much about him that she didn’t know. At first, she’d thought that was what she wanted but now she realized she’d been wrong. She was already a little in over her head with him, so at this point, why not? She wanted to know more about the man next to her. “Have you ever been married?”
He slanted a look her way that she found impossible to interpret. “Nope. I guess you could say I’ve committed myself to Uncle Sam. I know there are a lot of people that make it work, but, it’s hard on a family. Particularly Special Forces.” Covert assignments that meant being incommunicado, heightened danger—it was a tough way for the ones left behind to live.
“So, not even any close calls, huh?”
“What? I’m such a prize you’re amazed no one’s tried to snap me up?” His grin said he was poking fun at himself, another nice trait in Lieutenant Colonel Dugan.
And yes, that was exactly it. He struck her as the ultimate prize in the Cracker Jack box—not that she had any intention of telling him that. “Don’t get carried away.”
“What about you? Any ex-husbands lurking in your background?”
“A few,” she said with a straight face and then cracked up at his startled expression. “Just kidding. I’ve been focused on my career, too. I travel a lot and that can make a relationship difficult. On top of that, I’ve spent a lot of time fixing up my house—it needed a lot of work when I bought it. And there are only so many hours in a day.”
“You should’ve found a handyman—or dated one.”
“It was easier to take do-it-yourself classes at Home Depot.”
There was a momentary pause and then he laughed. He shook his head. “You do call things the way you see them, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I don’t see the point in prevarication. I’m also a lousy strategist. I suck at chess. Heck, I even lose at checkers on a regular basis.” She looked over at his chiseled profile and it felt as if her heart skipped a few beats. “I bet you’re one heck of a chess player.”
He shrugged and there was a hint of nonchalance about it that struck her as odd. He wasn’t a particularly nonchalant kind of man.
“Just how good are you at chess? Did you ever win any contests?”
“A couple in high school and later in college.”
Hmm. When she had some free time with her laptop she’d be checking that out on Google. But it was obvious he was smart and ambitious. He couldn’t be older than his early thirties and he was already a Lieutenant Colonel. Numerous career men retired out at that rank, but Mitch still had a lot of years left. Her own father hadn’t made Lieutenant Colonel until much later in his career.
“Your job requires a lot of travel?” he said, following up on her earlier comment. He didn’t miss anything.
“My career requires it, but I also like it. I love to discover new places and new experiences. It was the one thing I did like about growing up a military brat.”
“But it was the rules you didn’t like.”
“That and the expectation that my father’s career always took precedence over my mother’s. Actually, my father’s career was my mother’s. Her sole purpose in life became only as a useful accessory to him. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine for women who want that lifestyle, but I don’t.”
“I can’t imagine your attitude goes over well with your parents.”
“No. It doesn’t sit well with Brigadier General and Mrs. Walters.” She grinned. “They’re really not quite sure where I came from—I’m definitely not the ordinary product of their gene pool and upbringing. What about you? What do your parents think of your career choice?”
Another shrug that spoke volumes with what it didn’t say. “I’m not close to my parents. We have different lifestyles and expectations. But I’m close to my grandfather and he’s always been supportive.”
Of course he was. He was a military man himself. Eden was curious about Mitch’s parents. Were they the creative sort, like her, who disliked the rigidity of the military? “Are they artists? Pacifists?”
He laughed again, but this time a margin of bitterness laced his tone. “Um, no. They’re pretty much bums. Neither one has ever kept a steady job. They just sort of leeched off of my grandfather for years.”
“Oh.” There wasn’t much to say beyond that. It did explain, however, his devotion to his career…and put him that much further off-limits for anything long-term, not that Eden had ever remotely considered him long-term material. “Will they be at your grandfather’s birthday party?”
“It’s not likely, unless they think they can get something out of it. I haven’t mentioned it and I’m sure the old man hasn’t said anything to them. They don’t visit him at his assisted-living center, so I seriously doubt it.” He offered another shrug and a hard smile. “Of course if they hear there’s free food to be had, all bets are off.”
Ouch. Note to self. Don’t bring up his parents again. It was definitely time for a subject change. “You didn’t mention anything about free food. Now I’m definitely sold on the party.”
“It’s man food. Hot wings, French fries, chili and beer.”
“Beer and wings sounds good to me.”
“They’re going to love you. Just one thing…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t wear the red heels. You don’t want to give any of them a heart attack.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not kidding. They may be old, but they’re men. Those heels might do them in.” He winked. “But at least they’ll die happy.”
11
“THANK YOU FOR FLYING WITH US,” the stewardess said as they stepped off of the plane and into the gateway. Mitch was damn glad to get off. He only liked being on planes if he could jump out of them.
Eden shifted her camera bag on her shoulder and switched her carry-on’s pull handle to her other hand as they entered the Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport. “I like to travel, but it’s always nice to get home.” Actually, the high arched ceiling in the main building with its stained glass always did feel a bit like a homecoming.
“Let me take your suitcase,” Mitch said.
“I’ve got it.”
“I can put it on top of mine and I won’t even know I have it,” he said. She was so damn independent but that was one of the things he liked and admired about her. Just one of many, he’d realized last night when they’d checked her out of her hotel and she’d spent her last night in Fayetteville at his house, in his bed. It had been strange—the entire night he’d had a sense of rightness about her being at his house. There’d been no awkwardness, just a completeness, as if he’d found the one thing he hadn’t even known he was missing. And how could that be when she couldn’t tolerate the one thing, the only thing that defined who and what he was, the military? Mitch didn’t doubt her sincerity for a moment. She’d been markedly different every time they’d driven off base.
“Okay, if you can carry it, be my guest.”
Mitch made quick work of buckling her suitcase to the top of his.
The memory of her on top last night came rushing back between them and Mitch felt the familiar spark of arousal that was always a low burn inside him when she was around. She’d liked being on top. He remembered her initial slow ride up and down his shaft. When she’d picked up the momentum, he could barely breathe because he’d been so centered on her slick, tight channel pistoning up and down on him.
He was not going to walk through the airport with a hard-on. He pushed away the thought of her naked, her breasts swaying over him—or at least he tried to. As usual, his discipline suffered a serious set-back with Eden. “Behave, baby.”
She looked at him and her eyes challenged his admonition, as if to say, “you know you don’t really want me to behave.” And no he didn’t. He liked the uninhibited way she met him, challenged him, engaged him in the bedroom. Hell, just in general conversation. “At least until we get to your car.”
“Fine. I can behave…until we get to my car.”
Mitch had cancelled his rental car. He and Eden would drive out to Charoux together for the party. Mitch would see the old man back to the assisted-living center, and they’d return to New Orleans and her house later that night. She’d asked him if he wanted to stay over and see his grandfather again in the morning, but he’d passed. The last thing the old man wanted was Mitch hovering. He liked to stay abreast of Mitch’s career and what was going on, but about half a day together every couple of months was all the old man wanted.
She laughed. “I’m driving. You’re safe, at least until we get to my house. And then you still get a reprieve because I have a meeting with Valerie, my assistant,” she said.
“I looked you up online,” he said as they moved through the concourse.
She shot him a swift, surprised look. “You did?”
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