by Jodi Watters
“Marshall’s not your savior. Sounds like you’re your own hero. He wants—” He stopped abruptly, changing his words. “He’s been the undoing of many a woman. Watch your back.”
“Not this woman. He’s the best boss I’ve ever had. And why would you warn me about him? He’s your father.”
“Can’t deny that. But it stops there.” He eyed her bare legs. “Bet you won the swimsuit competition hands down.”
“No, Macy always took that. The neighborhood boys liked perky brunettes better than flat-chested blondes.” Cotton balls for the win, because even a pre-teen boy knew whether he was a tit man or not. “I secured the crown with my enthusiastic rendition of ‘Help Me, Rhonda’ in the talent portion. My dad loved the Beach Boys and Macy couldn’t sing for sugar.”
“Flat-chested?” He took in the ample cleavage her strapless dress and poor posture displayed. “Were they blind?”
“No, just assholes,” she replied, looking down at herself. “I didn’t get boobs until I was a sophomore, but when they finally showed up, they showed up for real. It was the happiest time of my life.”
Adjusting both the gaping taffeta and her bountiful boobs to no avail, she gave up and glanced at Ash, his face unreadable as he stared at her breasts.
“I just felt myself up,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me now?”
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you.”
Smoothing back windblown strands of hair with a feather-light touch, he threaded his fingers through the tangled blonde mess. Warm breath fanned her cheek, and she closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss. Waiting and dying for it, gasping in surprise when his hot mouth landed on the sensitive patch of skin just below her earlobe instead.
Tilting her head to give him better access, she whimpered at the shock of pleasure.
Gentle suction followed the hot kiss, his mouth blazing a lazy, wet trail along the nape of her neck, the lash of his tongue shooting sparks through her body. Feeling the cool dampness left behind as he nibbled a path, she clutched a fistful of his T-shirt, feeling taut muscles underneath.
Finally giving her what she’d asked for, he slanted his mouth over hers, sealing their lips in a kiss that brought another level of arousal, her body flooding.
Proving he was worth the wait.
The silky slide of his tongue was gentle, almost chaste one moment, commanding and bold the next, exploring her. Teasing her. He took, overwhelming her senses, then retreated, fueling her need. Moaning against his mouth, she was instantly hooked on his taste, a drugging mix of potent sexuality and powerful masculinity—a high she’d chase for the rest of her life.
Stopping with only a breath between their parted lips, his eyes pierced hers.
“Livvy.” Whispering the play on her name, he sipped at her lips, kissing her over and over, finally tearing himself away. “Christ, you make me fucking crazy.”
He said it like a man said babe or honey. Like an endearment. A prayer. Livvy.
There were a few relationships in her past. All buttoned-up types she’d met at happy hour or wine festivals, her interest fizzling as fast as her sangria spritzer. She’d given them a fair shot, ending up with dull conversation and even duller sex. Not once did she experience a kiss so blatantly erotic, so sexually charged.
Drenched, she could go off at the slightest contact, and he hadn’t touched her below the collarbone. Sweet baby Jesus, the man gave great neck.
Letting out a celebratory cheer, she pumped her fist, savoring the moment.
“What? What’s happening?” Confused, Ash looked her over, from her blushing cheeks to her curled toes. “Did… did you…?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, but all it would take is a few circles of your finger. And you’ll know when it does. I’m not quiet.”
He growled low in his throat. “That sexy image is gonna get me through some long, lonely nights. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” she corrected. “I knew you’d be good at that. The second I saw you, I said to myself, that man is a good kisser. I think it’s your whole, I’ll take what I want, when I want it, and I don’t give a sugar what you say about it, attitude. Good work, soldier.”
“I’m good at a few other things, too. Want me to show you?”
“Mmm, you know what I really want you to do?” She bit her lip, flirting with danger. “I want you to tell me about yourself.”
His head shot back. “Well, that’s a boner killer, darlin’.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry at all, she peeked at his lap. Shadows hid what her intuition told her was some serious fire power. Damn her moral code. “It’s mandatory I know at least a little bit about a man when he’s had his tongue in my mouth. And while it pains me to admit, that beer tastes pretty good when it’s mixed with you.”
Ticking a short list off on his fingers, he spoke as if ordering dinner. “I’m in the Army. Have been for years, probably will be for life. Stationed out of Ft. Bragg, but I’m always deployed, so I can’t say I really live there. I have a condo in Mission Bay when I’m not on active duty, but I’m always deployed, so I can’t say I really live there. I recently acquired a soft spot for a southern girl with legs for miles, and my favorite food is brownies from a box.” He shrugged, giving her a crooked grin. “That about sums it up.”
Oh, there was a boatload more than that. A warrior was behind those blue eyes. He was a soldier, but not just any. Special Forces. The cream of the crop.
Olivia couldn’t deny the excitement she felt knowing he was interested in her. A girl from Savannah whose most exciting moment to date was getting in her car and driving west until she hit water, too naive to know the danger she might face.
And danger with a capitol D was sitting next to her.
He knew he had her. He had to know he had her.
“How much more personal information is it gonna take, Liv?”
“That’ll do for now.”
His hot lips branded hers again, locking them together. The slip and slide of his tongue sent liquid fire shooting straight to her core, and she dueled with him over control, giving as good as she got.
Groaning, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling just hard enough to send his own message as he took the lead. Whimpering at his show of dominance, Olivia nearly dissolved into a puddle of her own wetness.
Needing to touch him, she reached between their bodies and fumbled for the hem of his T-shirt, pushing it out of her way. Her fingertips grazed warm, tight skin, and she followed the soft line of hair swirling down into the front of his jeans. The denim was pulled too tight for her to slip inside, so she traced his steely length over the worn fabric, learning his secrets.
He was a big man. Big all over.
Measuring him, she stroked his erection until he shifted his hips, pulling away.
“Jesus. Stop or I’ll embarrass myself.” He growled the words against her mouth, plucking kisses as he spoke. “I’ve been on a hair trigger since we left the vineyard. How far is it to your place? I’m a good twenty minutes away.”
Out of breath and on fire, she ran her hand across his rigid abs before sitting up straight in the seat, patting her dress back into place. The vineyard was her cold shower.
“I’m not gonna sleep with you tonight, Ash.”
He let out an agonized laugh, more amused than irritated. “Why not?”
Following her lead, he sat back in the driver’s seat, grimacing as he adjusted his fly.
“Because I want to. Badly.” Looking out at the water, she sighed in sexual frustration, then rolled her head toward him. “Because if I give myself permission, I’ll let loose with you and look like a total slut instead of a career-driven woman with her act together. I’ll probably break your penis.”
Horror crossed his face. Then interest. “You’re not gonna break my penis.”
“Yeah, because I’m not gonna sleep with you.”
“Liv, I’m saying this because I trust you comp
letely and because I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds.” His boyish smile, unexpected on a man of his magnitude, softened something inside her. “I dare you to try and break my penis.”
Her laugh was loud in the hush of darkness, chasing away seagulls pecking the sand for a late-night snack.
“Okay, soldier. Let me give it to you straight.” Shifting sideways, she tucked a bare leg under her and faced him. “Because I just met you a few hours ago. Because I work for your father. Because I love my job. Because I need my job.”
“None of that matters. The moment we locked eyes, none of it mattered.”
That was an indisputable fact. And since they were being so truthful, she went for broke.
“You want brutal honesty then?” She rolled her lips, knowing this would scare the big, bad soldier away. “Because if I do, I’ll fall madly in love with you. I’ll beg you not to leave, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll beg you to come back, broken penis and all. It’ll be an ugly scene that’ll embarrass the both of us.”
His eyes sparked, seeing beyond the humor of her statement. And he didn’t look the least bit spooked.
“Good. Brutal honesty?” He quirked a brow, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Then you’ll say yes when I ask you to marry me.”
Her shocked laugh was garbled when he kissed away the automatic denial. Once his lips lifted, she regained the use of speech.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“Nope. Sane as the day is long. The government tests me on a regular basis.” And the question of whether he was joking or not was answered when he dropped his forehead to hers and whispered, “Say yes.”
Her heart stopped for a full second before kicking into gear, beating double time. The rush of adrenaline and crazy desire to agree had to be a result of his neck kiss, not his silly proposal.
Lord almighty, she didn’t know for sure.
“I’m not saying yes.” She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing the soft strands, touching him as if he was hers. “And the government needs to modify their tests because you’re out of your mind. They have a certifiably insane soldier running around proposing to strange women.”
“Not women. You. Are you saying no?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. For the life of her, she couldn’t form the word.
Satisfied with her mute response, he popped a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re not saying yes, but you’re not saying no. Gotta admit, I like my chances.”
Grinning, he started the Jeep and she immediately regretted her decision to abstain. Her inner slut berated her outer good girl as Ash pulled onto the highway, eventually heading east toward the vineyard.
Back to her car. Back to reality.
As she mourned the knowledge that she’d never feel his weight above her, never feel him deep within her, never see him at his most vulnerable, he whipped the Jeep onto the narrow shoulder, coming to an abrupt stop in a spray of gravel.
She waited as he stared ahead, looking at something she couldn’t see.
It was at least ten seconds before he spoke, and she swore he was going to say, “Ass, gas, or grass, lady. Nobody rides for free.”
Instead, he surprised her. Again. “What’s your middle name?”
It was so random, she answered without thought. “Christine.”
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Shadows of the Night.”
“What’s your greatest fear in life?”
She considered lying. Or saying something trite. Ultimately, she opted for the truth. “Brutal honesty? Never having a baby.”
Still staring ahead, he nodded slowly, as if committing her answers to memory. The silence was verging on awkward when he finally looked at her.
“I have two weeks leave coming up in a few months. Spend it with me. We can go anywhere you want. My place, your place, Bermuda, Siberia, I don’t care. And sex isn’t mandatory. I mean, I want to, but we don’t have to. I just wanna be with you. Spend it with me, Liv. Please.”
His expression was steady, willing her to agree, and while his request was only for a two-week time commitment, they both knew more was riding on her answer.
Possibly a lifetime.
Searching her soul took seconds.
This night was about taking chances. Even the kind that could break a heart.
“I changed my mind about tonight.” Reaching out, she cupped his stubbled cheek. “Take me to bed. In addition to those two weeks, you still owe me seventy-two hours.”
He grinned and gunned the Jeep, executing a U-turn that rattled her teeth. Just as fast as Olivia agreed, Ash hightailed it down the highway, in the opposite direction of Coleson Creek Winery.
Sealing the deal on destiny.
Olivia wasn’t familiar with the stalking laws in the state of California, but as she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the window of a ritzy beach house in La Jolla, she hoped to hell she was committing only a misdemeanor and not a felony.
At least she’d had the good sense not to break and enter when nobody answered the door after three increasingly long rings of the bell, though she’d tested the knob to see if it was locked. It was.
Deadbolted, if the lack of give was any indication.
Thank God, or she’d be booked on a B&E for sure if the cops showed up. At least she could plead temporary insanity. Window peeping wasn’t the lowest thing Olivia had done today.
Browbeating your estranged husband’s office manager to find out his current location might go against proper decorum and make you look like the worst wife ever, but at least it wasn’t against the law—not that Caroline could be bullied into giving up the information. The woman would probably endure Gitmo-style torture to protect her boss.
When she’d gone to Ash’s condo, once their condo, he was nowhere to be found. Same thing when she’d gone to his office.
“He’s not here,” Caroline stated plainly, greeting Olivia with a cool look.
The parking lot minus one black Jeep told her that. “Can you tell me where he is?”
“I can. Not sure I want to.” She was playing protector today.
“Okay,” Olivia drawled pleasantly, knowing this was a test. “Could I hire Scorpio Securities to find a missing person? Have you ping his cell phone? Organize a search party and staple up some flyers?” Holding up her left hand, she flashed her wedding ring. “He’s my lawfully wedded husband, you know.”
“Yet, you’re coming to me because you can’t find him.”
Ouch. Good point. “I told you during my last visit there was a good chance he’d take off on me. Now you know it’s true. I have a runaway groom on my hands.”
Fiddling with a thin silver letter opener, Caroline smirked. “I have never seen Ash run from anything or anyone. He doesn’t scare.”
Holy sugar, she could take down a rhino with that thing, and Olivia eyed it carefully. “Put on a horror flick and see for yourself.”
That piqued her interest. “Oh, really? Slasher or paranormal?”
“Blood doesn’t bother him.” As if that wasn’t common knowledge. “Haunted houses do.”
Caroline frowned, jumping to his defense. “Um, ghosts are terrifying.”
“So’s a wife who’s been done wrong.” Olivia was desperate enough to appeal to the woman’s baser side.
“Fine. I’ll tell you where he is.” She dropped the sharp object. “But only because Hope was singing your praises the other day, and I trust her judgment. And Ash’s.”
It stung to have a virtual stranger—a female, no less—tell you the whereabouts of your handsome and virile husband, but Olivia hid her wince behind a smile. “Great. Where?”
“You caused quite a stir with your surprise visit a few weeks ago. Had the gossip mill going strong around here. It makes sense to me now, though. The way he is.”
“How is he?” Because let’s be honest, Olivia had no freaking idea how he was. Hadn’t for the last four years. That stung, too.
C
aroline turned thoughtful. “Grumpy. Bossy. Lonely. Like he’s going through the motions.”
Me, too.
“But not these last few weeks,” she added, reaching for the ink pen stashed in the bun of her sleek up-do. “No, ma’am. Lately, he’s been, hmm, what’s the word I’m looking for?” Pursing shiny red lips, she pointed the pen at Olivia. “Zippy.”
Me, too.
“The man told a knock-knock joke last week, Olivia. A knock-knock joke! And sure, the adults were all stunned silent and only my five-year-old laughed, but still. The guys all think he’s lost his mind. I think he’s finally found it.” Scribbling on a Post-it note, she leveled her with a hard look. “Do you love him?”
“Yeah, but only when I’m not hating him.”
She’d answered automatically, and once it was out, there was no taking it back. And she was more surprised by her affirmative response than Ash’s guard dog.
Caroline handed her the yellow paper noting the address to an exclusive enclave of beach houses. The coordinates for her AWOL husband. The stern warning that followed was as unexpected as Olivia’s slip of the tongue.
“If you hurt him again, I’ll hurt you in return, and I’m not kidding. I know he doesn’t need a bodyguard or a mother hen coddling him, but I’m learning a new technique on how to choke someone into submission, and I’m a quick study. Grady teaches a weekly women’s self-defense class. It’s Wednesday nights at the gym across the street, if you’re interested. Everyone’s welcome.”
“Good to know. Thanks for the address.” Tapping the information into the GPS on her phone, she stopped at the door, looking back at Ash’s henchman. “I’m glad he has someone watching out for him, Caroline. But since you brought it up, you should know. He’s the one who does the hurting.”
It was a great closing line, even if it did skirt the truth. There was plenty of guilt to go around. She’d fired her own deadly weapon, hitting her target as surely as if she’d graduated at the top of Grady’s self-defense class. Whoever the hell Grady was.
Maybe he could give her some pointers on establishing street cred inside a minimum-security women’s prison. Unless stalking with a side of burglary got you a stint in max.