Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story)

by Rasmussen, Kitrisha

  “Why? What’s the harm in trying?” she asked. “I’m not good at this stuff, I know. I don’t . . . date, either. All I want is the chance to get to know you. Because . . . I like you.” She cringed. Had she really just said that? Oh, please kill her now.

  Matthew stepped even closer and her hand moved to her throat. His eyes were on hers—intense; uncomfortable. She held still, afraid to spook him, while her heart pounded inside her head. He leaned into her, his eyes dilating black with desire as he breathed in her scent. “I like you too, Allie.”

  “So”—she swallowed—“will you have dinner with me?”

  Chapter seven

  Matthew backed away, head shaking, but all of his resolve to be disagreeable seemed to have seeped away. He looked momentarily lost—wanting even—and Allie took the opportunity to pounce.

  With shaking hands she reached out to the exotic and deadly creature before her, and her fingers wrapped around his. Callouses puckered across the palms of his hands and scratched inside her loose grip. His knuckles marred with old scars and healing cuts.

  Warrior hands, she thought.

  “Just one dinner.” She pulled her lips up with some effort; forced herself to keep her cool.

  His eyes darkened and the muscles in his jaw jumped. His free hand combed through unruly hair. “One dinner,” he rasped like it pained him to concede to her.

  Allie couldn’t help beaming up at him with a true smile then, and in return his mouth popped open with a rush of breath. His brows folded together and his mouth quickly pinched back into a thin line.

  “What time,” she asked. “Where?”

  He seemed to snap out of whatever reverie held him in its grip and dropped his gaze to his watch. “It’s early still, only five o’clock, but I don’t have any appointments for the rest of the day. Could you eat now?”

  Why did she feel like he was trying to get this all over with? Allie swallowed her rising hurt feelings and armed herself with a bright smile. She was not going to let him embarrass her into backing down. “Sure.”

  His lips tightened to a grimace. “Okay. Come on.”

  She reached out to touch him and he turned to her with a hard mouth. Oooo-kay then. “Is it really that painful to share a meal with me? You’ve pretty much decimated my self-confidence here, you know.”

  His eyes grew dark and his hands ran through his hair once more—no wonder it was so messy! Nervous tick? Angry tick? Annoyed tick? It was hard to tell how precisely she bothered him.

  “It’s not you,” he mumbled.

  Allie couldn’t help her giggle. Her eyebrows rose. “It’s not you; it’s me?” She didn’t know where her sudden boldness was coming from. Guess she figured she’d already been shot down by him hardcore. Why not finish digging her hole? She’d probably need a place to hide out for the next few days while she got over this afternoon.

  His eyes grew cold and he glowered down at her. “You strip away my self-control, Allie. I can’t seem to help myself when I’m around you.”

  Oh.

  She tried to puzzle out the meaning of what he’d just said. He’d said he’d liked her before, but this was more. Blood rushed to her cheeks while warmth flooded through her body.

  He drew in a deep breath and suddenly the backs of his fingers brushed the side of her overheated cheek. “This is my undoing”—His fingers moved to her mouth—“and this.” His thumb rested over her bottom lip and pulled it free from her teeth.

  She hadn’t even realized she’d been biting it.

  The soft pad of his thumb on her mouth sent shocks of heat straight down to her belly and she worked to keep from fluttering her eye lids closed like some love-struck girl. The way his hard body consumed the space around her, the intense blaze of his mossy green eyes—Allie knew she needed to keep her eyes on him or there was the threat she could be devoured by his strange, weighty charisma. Without a doubt, she was the prey in this situation; and he the stalking beast. She couldn’t decide if it had been a stupid decision coming here yet, or not. He was a walking, talking juxtaposition; one minute into her, and the other minute wanting to toss her out of his office and onto her ass. Her emotions swerved through her in overdrive, playing bumper cars with each other, ramming any coherent thoughts out her ears. She’d seen his power—his strength—knew that if he wanted to take her she’d be helpless to do anything to stop him. The realization brought with it an intoxicating rush that sent her pulse speeding and her legs turning to warm Jell-O.

  “Oh,” her lips parted on a sigh.

  The black centers of Matthew’s eyes widened until there was only a sliver of green that remained and his thumb, still perched over her lip, took the opportunity to slide into her mouth and graze the slick tip of her tongue.

  Allie shuddered, powerless under the spell of his touch. This was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced; the act so intimate it was almost uncomfortable. Her body was quickening by the second with lust for this man before her; who was still so much a stranger.

  With a sudden jerk, Matthew pulled away, nostrils flaring. He seized his thumb between white, perfect teeth and drew in the moisture from its wet tip slowly, as if he were relishing Allie’s taste. His gaze locked with hers and his hand fell to his side, his head shaking while he backed away until the magnetism between them had waned enough that the thrum in Allie’s body was at least manageable.

  “You see what I mean?” he growled.

  Allie stood there, blinking back stupidly, amazed her legs were still holding her upright and that she hadn’t melted into a puddle on the floor.

  Oh, my.

  Her brain had shut off sometime around the thumb sucking exercise and she’d been reduced to short simple thought processes like: oh, oh, oh.

  When she continued to stare at him in a state of wide-eyed wonder/shell-shock, the corners of his mouth pulled up—very slightly. Probably his version of the Cheshire Cat.

  Come on, Allie, she begged herself. Snap out of it!

  “So, yes to dinner, then?” Her voice was pathetically breathy.

  His mouth curled up a little more. “Yes.” His hand reached out toward her. “Come.”

  Oh, yes, she thought. There was no doubt she was on the verge of doing just that.

  Chapter eight

  Allyson’s Authentic Old World Cuisine was two blocks from the PPMS building. “Hmm.” Allie’s eyes crinkled with humor. “The irony hasn’t been lost on me, you’ll be happy to note.”

  Matthew, sitting behind the wheel of his sleek, black Escalade, cocked a bronze eyebrow and that ghost of a smile made another appearance. “I thought you might appreciate it. Italian’s alright, I hope?”

  “Oh, yes. Sure.”

  Back at the PPMS building, Matthew had changed from the fatigues into a very yummy combination of low-hanging jeans and a cream, cable knit sweater.

  Allie had waited in the first floor foyer, all too happy to give herself time to let her blood cool from whatever sexual fireworks had erupted in Matthew’s office minutes before. Now, looking at him sitting only a brief foot or two away, Allie was having serious concerns over whether or not she’d be able to keep from jumping him half-way through their meal. For someone who made a living kicking the crap out of people, Matthew had all the classical beauty of a Greek god.

  They parked, got out, and Matthew took her lightly by the elbow to usher her inside the restaurant. The warm scent of bread and marinara sauce wrapped around them as they walked up to the hostess desk and Matthew gave his name.

  The hostess was all tight, black mini skirt and perky boobs. Her lips smacked together when she looked up at Matthew; like he was a flavor she’d like to sample. Heavy mascaraed eyelashes fluttered like a pair of twitching spider’s legs in their death throws.

  Uugh.

  Matthew regarded the hostess with disinterest.

  Aware that she was failing to affect him, the hostess stuck her chest out a little more and her mouth pursed into Khloe Kardashian duck lips. “That
’ll be fifteen minutes, hon.”

  Oh, gag.

  Matthew peeled a fifty off a roll of cash and slipped it into the hostess’s hand. “How about you check again?” His voice was all caramel, triple-fudge sundae, oozing sex with every syllable. The hostess’s lips parted as the affect hit its mark.

  Allie would have folded her arms in a huff, had Matthew not still had a grip on her elbow. Her mouth tightened. Guess she couldn’t hold it against the girl. Matthew was a walking, talking advertisement for sex on a stick.

  “Follow me,” the hostess stammered. She turned to snake down the crowded aisles, looking a little unsteady on her feet.

  Matthew’s arm slipped around Allie’s waist, his fingers a light pressure on her hip, scattering Allie’s wits all to hell. She focused on placing one foot in front of the other, unable to concentrate on anything aside from the circuit Matthew’s fingers were making from the front of her hip, up to the bottom of her ribs, and then back down.

  It really wasn’t fair—the way he affected the opposite sex.

  They were seated in a back corner of the restaurant facing a balcony that overlooked a courtyard. Twinkling lights were just starting to stand out against the late afternoon sunset. The pelt of falling water filled the air from a huge Tuscan-style water fountain that rose from the courtyard’s center. Probably breathtaking once the sun went down.

  The hostess bared straight, man-eater teeth at Matthew, while ignoring Allie’s presence completely. “We reserve this area for our more austere guests.” Eyelashes batted again.

  “It’ll do; thanks.” Matthew’s eyes were trained on Allie, his face giving away nothing as to what his emotional climate may be. Allie squirmed in her seat and tried to keep from wilting under Matthew’s gaze. After a few seconds passed, the hostess finally got the hint and took off.

  Okay, Allie’s thoughts urged. You’ve got him here. Now what?

  She dropped her eyes to her twisting fingers and her mouth pursed.

  “Allie?”

  Gaah, that deep voice was magic! She peeked up at him.

  “What do you want to order?”

  Food. Right. Good idea. She scooped up the menu and quickly ran through her choices. A few seconds slid by. Hmm . . . “Maybe, the parsnip parmesan linguini with mushroom ragout?”

  He nodded and folded his menu just as their waitress materialized, cutting off any attempt Allie might have to make at awkward conversation. The waitress was bright-eyed with expectation and zoned instantly in on Matthew, looking not at all disappointed by what she found.

  “Are you ready to order?” The waitress’s voice was all breathy anticipation.

  Matthew spoke for both Allie and himself, “She’ll have the mushroom linguini. I’ll have the striped marlin”—he paused, eyes flashing back to Allie’s and making her belly do a little flip—“what do you want to drink?”

  She felt her teeth sink into her lip again. “Ice water, please. With lemon.”

  His eyebrows raised a fraction, but he just turned to the waitress. “An ice water for her and a Torbetta for me.”

  The waitress’s head bobbled up and down, cheeks flushing. She took the menus and scuttled away.

  Matthew turned to Allie. “Almond 22 Torbetta is a fantastic brew. Smoked. Hard to find in the states. I got a taste for it overseas.”

  Matthew, the beer connoisseur?

  “Do you drink?” His eyebrow cocked at her.

  Allie shook her head. “Hardly ever. I’m a lightweight. Don’t like feeling out of control, either.” She shrugged in apology.

  He nodded, lips twitching. “Good girl.”

  This felt so . . . weird, sitting here with him. Allie was tongue-tied and flustered, not really sure where to steer the conversation. With Matthew, she felt like she needed a bullet list of points to talk about. He wasn’t one to fall into easy or light chatter. She sighed. “Sorry I bothered you at work.”

  His mouth quirked. “Are you really?”

  Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Okay, not really. But I did kind of force you here.”

  He chuckled then and Allie fought to keep her jaw from falling into her lap. Laughter! “Is that what you think?” He shook his head, eyes lighting with humor. “Trust me, baby. If I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have.”

  “Then why the fight?”

  His mouth compressed and he drew in a deep breath. “Who’s to say I was fighting you? Maybe I’ve been fighting myself for the last few weeks?”

  What?

  She blinked back, all wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights moments before a tragic death-by-semi. “But, I thought you were mad at me for stalking you? I’ve been online all week trying to get your information so I could see you, but you’re like some kind of ghost. I had to drive back down to the UMMA and bribe some guy to give me the only address he had on you; which turned out to be for PPMS.”

  His face darkened and his words dripped with ice, “You shouldn’t be in that part of town. Ever. You have no idea what kind of shit goes on there.” His fingers found hers across the table and squeezed gently. “Promise me you won’t go back.” Deep green eyes glared at her beneath a tight brow.

  “I . . . promise,” she stammered.

  His eyes narrowed while he looked for a lie in her face. Finally, he sat back and his fingers slid free from hers, only to dive into his mess of bronze hair.

  She swallowed, trying desperately to dislodge her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Her fingers still stung with the electricity of his touch. “So . . . about the stalking. I’m not like this normally.”

  His lips curled up, showing a glimpse of perfect white teeth and a shudder shot down her, an image of what he’d done with them not long ago flashing through her mind.

  “You think you’re the stalker?” His voice had dropped into that caramel choco fudgin’ goodness again.

  “Yes,” she breathed and her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

  The waitress took that moment to bring their meals.

  While the food’s aroma swept across her she looked into his gorgeous face and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. When his eyes fell to her mouth her breath hitched inside her lungs. What was she going to do with this man? One moment he scared the ever-loving shit out of her, and then the next melted her insides to butter.

  His mouth tightened, but his shoulders relaxed. “I’ve been looking into you, too, Allison. After everything that happened, I wanted to make sure you were safe. I drove by your house a few nights . . . you know, to make sure you were still okay.”

  Holy turtle shit.

  He’d been so close all this time and she’d had no idea. Allie didn’t know if she should run, screaming for the hills or be relieved that she’d obviously had some effect on him, too.

  Matthew took a drag on his dark, frothy beer before continuing, “So, we’re both stalkers.”

  Oh . . . “Okay, then,” she breathed. Inside she was squealing like a sissy, clapping her hands, and dancing around in circles.

  “Okay?” His eyes widened.

  Allie shrugged and pulled her plate back toward her, shook out her napkin, and placed it in her lap. “We’re both stalkers.” She prodded one of the long noodles with her fork.

  Matthew’s head tipped to the side and his mouth twitched with a smile. “And I was afraid this would be awkward.” He sipped some more beer and popped a piece of fish into his mouth.

  Following suit, Allie cut into her meal and bit into a scoop of sauce and pine nuts. The woodsy, rich texture of the mushroom ragout was delicious. She put her fork down on the side of her plate and leveled her gaze across the table at him. “Why didn’t you want to come then, if you’ve been watching after me?”

  The pupils of his eyes dilated and his voice dropped to a low growl. “I told you. I’m not good for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” Eyebrows raised.

  “Innocent. Naïve. Still yet to discover the ugliness that plagues this world.”

 
; Bitter laughter escaped her lips. “I’m not totally unfamiliar to hardship.”

  He shook his head. “Life’s hard, there’s no diminishing that fact; but what I’m talking about is the presence of real, undiluted evil.”

  “And you know about evil?”

  He shook his head. “Baby, you don’t know the half of it.” He took another pull on his beer.

  Uncomfortable with the way their conversation had plunged into the macabre, Allie decided to move on to another subject. “So, the bodyguard company; is it yours?”

  “Now it is.” His mouth carved downward. “I had a partner. He’s . . . gone now.”

  Allie patted the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “How’d you get into the bodyguard stuff?” As she said it, she couldn’t help hearing Whitney Houston singing about always loving you. She coughed around a giggle and asked, “Was it from the Navy?”

  Using knife and fork, Matthew sliced off a piece of fish and layered a small chunk of vegetable beneath it. He was so self-contained, so meticulous and deliberate with his movements. It had Allie sitting up straighter just watching him eat. The bite slid between his lips and he chewed before taking another sip of beer. “Not exactly,” he replied. “We don’t make a lot, and I was between tours for a few months at a time. Started taking the random security job to earn extra cash. Made a business out of it and after a few years, it all just blew up into what it is now.”

  “You seem to have done well,” she agreed, mouth tipping to the side. “How old are you?”

  That deep, rumbly chuckle again. “Thirty-three”—Crap! Nearly ten years her senior? She tried not to gape. What the hell was she doing?—“Who would have guessed I’d succeed at business. I was a total screw up in school. And my half-semester attempt at college was a joke.” His eyes danced with whatever memory floated through his head.

  Feeling more brazen by the minute, she asked, “How come, if you’re some big, bad SEAL, you’re not all ripped like your goon squad?”

  His lips trembled with a smile. “Goon squad, huh? Most of the guys that work at PPMS are there for appearance only. Truth is; the real warriors come in all shapes and sizes, none of them muscle-bound meat heads. To do what we do, we have to be strong, but also retain maximum flexibility. It’s more about mental strength, really. Being willing to do whatever it takes. Refusing to give up. That’s a mantra in the teams.