Typical man. He said “you look great” as if he were trained to.
“Is it safe? Can’t we order room service?”
“It’s safe.”
She looked at his profile and then her gaze ran down to his chest, remembering the gun hidden under his shirt.
“Of course. How could I forget?” she quipped.
At the Marina Yacht Club, they were seated outside on a balcony that overlooked another area of tables. People gathered at a square bar and milled around tables. Chatter blended with the light sound of a band playing on a covered stage. There was a clear view of docked boats, masts of sailboats spearing the night sky.
A waiter appeared and Elam ordered wine. When the waiter left, he lifted the dinner menu.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said.
The waiter returned with a bottle of wine and Elam ordered the swordfish. When he left, Elam poured red wine into Farren’s glass, filling it almost to the rim.
She smiled. “How did you know what I needed?” She lifted the glass and drank.
“You’ve had a rough day.”
She leaned back, taking the glass with her, feeling her muscles relax. It was a warm evening for the middle of May. She took in the lights from all the boats and the Castle of St. Peter across the bay. The city of Bodrum sprawled along the shoreline.
She sipped more wine. Over the rim of her glass, she saw Elam leaning back in his chair with his chin on curled fingers, watching her with distinct male interest. He didn’t seem to care that she’d caught him. He’d been looking at her like that a lot today. Maybe she’d have to watch the kind of clothes she wore around him.
“When I was thirteen, I started daydreaming about being rich and traveling the world,” she said. He blinked slowly, the only sign that he knew she was about to start talking again. It was his fault. He made her nervous when he looked at her like that. She sipped her wine and continued. “I had servants and everywhere I went people adored me. I attended extravagant parties, had boys pining for my attention. I was smart. I even went yachting in one daydream. My foster parents’ son teased me relentlessly when he found a yachting magazine I bought with my allowance money. He used to say nobody would ever want me. That I was too stupid and ugly and why didn’t I just leave and make the rest of his family happy.”
Farren couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or listening. He just sat there all relaxed, watching her.
“Funny, now that I’m a millionaire, I don’t want any of those things. I just want people to appreciate me for who I am. I like my simple life in Bar Harbor. I don’t want mansions and servants and fancy cars. Yachting is nice, but I don’t need it.”
“Did you know you talk a lot when you’re nervous?” he asked.
And she melted. She was nervous. He was right. She was nervous because he’d kissed her earlier in the day and she was anticipating him doing it again.
“Nothing will happen you don’t want.”
Nothing she didn’t want. A flutter settled low in her abdomen. That’s what scared her. She was afraid she wanted too much.
“Have you always lived in Bar Harbor?” he asked when she said nothing more.
Was it the wine that was starting to make her feel hot or him? “Um…I—I moved there after I got my job in Bangor. I love my house. It isn’t big and it’s a little old, but that’s what makes it special. I like how the floor creaks and the smell of old wood and old-fashioned door handles and small windows and the wraparound porch. I planted flower gardens, too, but there are a lot of weeds. Now that I don’t have to work, I’ll have all the time I need to take care of them. They should be beautiful this summer. Except I kind of miss the way it was before. Working, I mean. I wouldn’t mind a part-time job, but it’s hard to find one as an engineer. I was working sixty-hour weeks. I don’t miss that.” She stopped, trying to keep from meeting his direct gaze, aware that she’d let go a lot of chatter. “Where do you live?”
“I have an apartment in Washington, D.C.”
“Do you like it there?”
“It’s a place to sleep. I’m not there much.”
She nodded. “Right. Sniper.” She lifted her glass and drank, looking out at the boats. He didn’t say anything so she kept herself occupied sipping more wine.
Their food arrived and she welcomed the excuse to keep avoiding him. She could almost hear his thoughts. Her withdrawal convinced him she couldn’t accept his profession. His wife had left him because he was never home. And wouldn’t she wind up doing the same? She wanted to make a family. She wasn’t interested in a brief affair.
After a few bites, she abandoned the swordfish for the wine, pushing her plate out of the way to prop her elbows on the table. She held the glass with both hands and sipped.
Elam had stopped eating, too. He was looking at her again. Hungry and curious and shrewd all at the same time. What a shame he didn’t live closer to her and have a regular job. Why did he have to be a sniper with a phobia of commitment?
“What made you join the Army?” she asked, putting her empty glass down onto the table.
He leaned forward to lift the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. She raised her eyebrows as she met the look of challenge in his eyes. She smiled.
“A cop took pity on me,” he said.
“A cop?” She lifted the glass and sipped.
“He arrested me so many times that he finally sat me down and had a long talk with me about the Army. I didn’t listen at first, but he kept badgering me until one day I woke up and realized it wasn’t such a bad suggestion. I could learn how to use weapons and blow things up.”
“You were arrested a lot?”
“More times than I can count.”
“For what?”
“Fighting, mostly.”
“And you liked the idea of blowing things up.”
“I was a boy.”
“Sounds to me like you were a troublemaker.”
“The cop was my only role model. I never knew my dad.”
She knew what it meant to grow up without a parent. Foster parents who did it out of obligation or pity didn’t count.
“Why didn’t you know your dad?”
“He died when I was young.”
“What was your mom like?” She was always fascinated by real moms.
The affection in his eyes clouded with sorrow. “She died in the World Trade Center bombing.”
As the shock hit her, Farren sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God.” She put down her glass when the liquid sloshed around and came dangerously close to spilling. “I’m so sorry.”
“The sad truth is, she worked long hours and wasn’t happy. She had a really hard life. Never had a chance.”
She studied him, seeing his sadness and maybe a little guilt. “Is that why you do what you do? Fight terrorists outside the law? Nothing stops you from doing what you have to do to take them down. Are you doing it to avenge your mother’s death?”
“Does that bother you?”
“Did you go to work for Cullen after your mother died?”
“Yes.”
That said it all. “Is that why you do it? Because of your mother?”
“I suppose so.”
It didn’t bother her that he fought terrorism, but the act of killing outside the law did. But she’d keep that to herself.
“You were lucky to have someone like that cop in your life,” she said to redirect the conversation.
A wry grin lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Didn’t you have anyone like that growing up?”
She scoffed. “In a foster home?”
“Surely there had to be someone you were close to.”
“No. And I wasn’t very tough. Unfortunately, that’s what I needed to be to grow up in that house. My foster parents’ son picked on me all the time. I was overweight and shy and extremely lonely. It wasn’t until I grew up and went to college that I started to get tough.”
“You still aren’t very tough.” H
is expanding smile revealed his teasing.
“Maybe not in your world. But I do know how to stand up for myself.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. “Have you ever been married?”
“No, but I tried four times.”
“You were engaged four times?”
“Yes.” She cringed with an exaggerated frown.
His eyes crinkled with humor. “What happened?”
“Either they cheated on me or changed their minds.”
“I find that hard to believe. What men wouldn’t want you?”
“The wrong ones. That’s my problem. I keep choosing the wrong men.”
He immediately fell silent. Farren almost asked him what he was thinking, but the feeling that he was another one of those wrong men kept her from asking. Instead, she drank wine and talked about little things. Movies. A shopping excursion with her neighbor. A chat forum she’d participated in.
By the time she finished her third glass of wine, she knew it was time to leave. She wondered if she was slurring her words.
Elam stood first. She used the table to push herself up, stumbling as she straightened and moved away from the table. He caught her around the waist and she found herself pressed against him.
“Whoa.” She looked up at his face, melting inside from more than the soft buzzing in her head.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
She pushed away from him. “Of course.” On sheer willpower, she led him through the maze of tables and out of the restaurant.
Outside, Elam walked beside her. He offered his elbow and she smiled and slipped her arm under his, her hand draping over his forearm.
“You’re awful gentlemanly for somebody who shoots people for a living.”
“I don’t want you to trip in those shoes.”
“A likely excuse for keeping your hands on me.” She could feel the side of her breast against his arm. He probably could, too.
The wine made her feel unguarded and warm and tingly. She leaned closer to him as they walked, then tipped her head to see him. His eyes smoldered with responding heat. Would it be so bad if she slept with him? So they’d part ways in a while. Why couldn’t she have a little fun?
Because in the end, it wouldn’t be fun. If she had sex with him, she’d want more in the morning. She’d want a real relationship. Crumbs. Remember the crumbs. They weren’t enough to feed her hunger for a husband and a family.
Still, she felt good being with him, feeling him close. Wrong or not, she wanted him.
Chapter 5
H e’s wrong for me. He’s wrong for me. Farren kept repeating this in her mind as they headed for the hotel across from the marina. Elam moved his arm around her waist as they crossed the street. Flames licked deep in her core. She stumbled once but no one could convince her it was from the wine. His strength and solid form kept her from looking too ungraceful.
In the hotel, Elam took her hand and led her through the lobby to an elevator. It was getting late so they were alone for the ride up to their floor.
Elam stood next to her, having let go of her hand. She looked at his profile. He turned. His eyes hadn’t lost that intimate heat. God, she wanted him. He’s wrong for me.
But she couldn’t stop herself from falling into his gaze. She couldn’t look away. And she was afraid her building desire showed in her eyes.
His expression darkened with desire. He turned to face her, stepping closer, as if drawn by an unspoken invitation.
Yes.
He’s wrong for me.
He took another step. She reached for his hands and pulled him the rest of the way. He angled his head and kissed her. Putting her hands on his chest, she pushed him against the adjacent elevator wall. Looping her arms around his neck, she pressed her body to his. He slid his hands around her waist and cupped her behind, kneading and moving her over his erection.
She pulled away from the kiss to suck in more air while he kissed her neck just below her ear and moved on to her jaw. He found her mouth and kissed her long and deep. Farren felt drunk with sensation.
He ended the kiss as the elevator doors opened. She didn’t care. All she wanted was him, to know that he wanted her, even if it was just this one time. Who cared if it went against her greater goal?
She rose to her toes and kissed him some more.
“Farren,” he said against her mouth.
“Mmm.” She kept kissing him, tasting him. “Tell me you want me.”
He lifted her and put her away from him. For a second she thought he’d refuse her. But he took her hand and pulled her down the hall to their room, his strides long and purposeful. Laughing, Farren trotted to keep up with him. At the door to the room, she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders while she leaned against his body. He opened the door. She stumbled inside after him. He kicked the door shut and she wrapped her arms around him again.
“Say it,” she whispered against his mouth. “Say you want me.”
“I want you.”
The hunger in his raspy voice washed through her. She closed her eyes. It felt so good to be wanted by a man. By this man.
“Kiss me. Show me.”
He did. He ravaged her mouth until their breathing grew loud in the room.
She lifted her leg, bending her knee beside his hip as she ground her pelvis against him. He swore against her mouth.
“Are you sure?” he rasped. “Are you sure?”
“I’m so sure.” She kept kissing him.
He groaned. Then gradually his kissing eased in intensity until he pulled away.
She leaned back and looked up at his face.
“I don’t think you are,” he said.
He put his hands on her waist and pushed.
She stepped back from him. “What’s wrong?”
“I think you’d regret it in the morning.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
The battle between taking what she offered and restraint burned in his eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Three glasses of wine. I’m not that drunk.”
“Farren…”
Maybe he needed more convincing. Maybe she did, too. Something in her warned not to go where the fire in her would lead. But it was too strong. He made her feel so good. She didn’t want to stop.
She started to move toward him.
He put his hands on her arms. “Don’t, Farren.”
His rejection deflated her. She’d just thrown herself at him the same way she had with other men she thought wanted her but in the end didn’t. How could she be so stupid? Why did she keep making the same mistakes over and over?
“If I thought you were really okay with this, we’d already be in bed,” he said.
He was only trying to be nice now.
Stepping out of reach of his hands, she hugged herself. “I had this friend once. She was really petite and in shape and beautiful. She had a great little house in Maine, an older one. I love old houses. They’re small and the rooms don’t have much space and the storage is, well, there is none, but I just love the charm. Anyway, this friend of mine dated lots of men but never settled for one. I met a few of them. She was really pretty and the men were all great-looking. But some were really nice, you know?” She paused to make sure he was listening. He watched her with an unreadable expression. “Anyway, I kept wondering why she never settled on one of them. She was going through a nasty divorce when I first met her. No kids, thank God. I think all they had to fight over was the cat. Or maybe it was the bird. She had a bird, too. A love bird that chirped all the time. She liked to let it out of its cage and it would land on your shoulder. I used to wait for it to crap on my clothes. It never did though. That bird had a personality.” She turned to Elam. “Do you believe that animals have personalities?”
“I’ve never owned a pet.” Hearing sympathy in his tone, she felt a lump of emotion climb into her throat. She swallowed it away.
“You don’t watch movies, you don’t listen to music, and you don’t
have a pet.”
“I’m never home.”
“So I keep hearing. You have no life, you do realize that, don’t you?”
“What happened to your friend?”
“She finally settled. Moved to California to live with her boyfriend. I went to the wedding. Just last fall.”
“She settled, huh?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
If he didn’t get it, she wasn’t going to explain. “You’re right. I’d regret sleeping with you.” She went to her suitcase and grabbed a nightgown before marching into the bathroom. “I hope you find the floor comfortable. There’s only one bed, and I’m sleeping in it.”
She slammed the bathroom door shut. Every man she’d been with, she’d settled when she could have done better. Elam didn’t feel like someone she’d settle for. Elam was so wrong for her. She’d be a fool to let herself fall for him. Yet, the pull in her heart was stronger than any she’d ever felt. Not fair. Not fair at all.
So, there was a point to her chatter after all. Elam folded his arms behind his head and smothered a scoff. He’d kept his jeans on and lay on top of the covers on the bed. Settled. Did she really think she’d be settling if she slept with him? He was tempted to show her just how wrong she was. After the way they’d almost combusted tonight, how could she even think it? Would she still feel like she was settling after he had her?
She talked too much and she was too girly, but he damn well wanted her. The thought of sinking into her, imagining how good it would feel, made him struggle with his conscience. Damn the wine.
The bathroom door opened and Farren emerged, covered from her chest to her knees.
“You aren’t sleeping there,” she said, stopping beside the bed.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
“Elam—”
“Just get in bed, Farren. We’ve already established nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
Her lips tightened with annoyance. “Yes, you did make that perfectly clear.”
She climbed into bed with jerky movements. When she lay on her back under the covers, it was all he could do to keep from tossing the covers back and rolling on top of her.
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