A quick glance at the other side of the bed confirmed my suspicion—Blaine hadn’t slept with me. I wasn’t certain whether I should have been relieved or offended, but I still couldn’t believe I’d actually had the nerve to suggest sharing in the first place. If I was going to worry about anything, it should have been the fact that Blaine had the power to make me do things I normally wouldn’t consider.
As though I conjured him from my thoughts, he was the first thing I saw as I stumbled into the living room. I wasn’t prepared for the sight of him sitting on the couch, pieces of a gun sitting on the table as he appeared to be cleaning it. It wasn’t the gun that startled me—he was a former Navy SEAL, after all—it was seeing him shirtless for the first time. Muscles bunched and rippled with each movement and the surge of desire I felt at seeing his bare chest was so strong, it almost brought me to my knees. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen attractive men before. Heck, I’d slept with a guy who, at the time, I thought was hot enough to be a model. But nobody held a candle to Blaine’s sheer masculinity. He was most definitely not a pretty boy. He was all man—the kind who made me happy to be a woman.
When his piercing blue eyes locked with mine, I fiddled with my hair nervously, wishing I’d taken the time to make myself look more presentable before rolling out of bed in search of coffee. His gaze swept down, making me acutely aware of the thin material of my camisole as my nipples puckered in reaction to his lingering look. I crossed my arms in front of my body protectively, and just about groaned when I realized the movement pushed my boobs up even higher. The smirk on Blaine’s face made it clear he knew he was the reason I was uncomfortable—and he took enjoyment in that knowledge.
“Morning,” I mumbled grumpily, frowning as he reached over and grabbed a shirt to put on.
“Get a good night’s sleep?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered, pulling my gaze from the strip of skin showing when he unbuttoned his jeans to tuck in his shirt.
The strength of my attraction to him unsettled me. I’d only met him last night and under the strangest of circumstances. He shouldn’t have been able to scatter my senses so easily, no matter how hot he was. It just didn’t make sense. Yet, here I was, mentally removing that shirt right off his chest and taking his jeans along with it.
“How are you feeling?”
I stared at him blankly for a moment, finding it difficult to concentrate on his words while my mind was busy undressing him and picturing several things I’d take great satisfaction in doing to his muscular body.
“Hmm?” I murmured.
“You’re looking steadier on your feet than you were last night. Feeling better?” he asked as he stood up and walked toward me. I dropped my eyes to the ground in an effort not to get sucked into his compelling gaze and noticed his feet were bare. I hated feet, yet there was something intimate about seeing our naked feet so close to each other once he was standing in front of me.
“Yeah, I must have been more tired than I thought. I slept like a baby,” I mumbled.
“You hungry?”
The thought of food had my stomach growling and I flushed in embarrassment. “I’m starving.”
“How about I make you breakfast?”
“You cook?” I asked, surprised by the offer.
“It’s a skill my mom made sure I had, and I’m damn glad she did. I like to eat, so it comes in handy.”
“I’m sure it does.” Most of the guys I knew couldn’t even boil a pot of water. It was nice to meet one who could actually cook and offered to do so. “Like right now when I’d kill for some food.”
“How about we leave the potential killing to me?”
Glancing at the gun on the table, I couldn’t help the shiver racing up my spine at the thought that he had probably killed people in the line of duty. “That works for me.”
“C’mon then,” he said, holding his hand out for mine. He led me into the kitchenette and helped me onto one of the stools at the counter. “I checked earlier and it looks like we have everything I need to make a couple omelets.”
“Sounds good.”
I placed my elbows on the countertop and leaned my head against an open palm, watching him pull eggs, ham, cheese, and a tomato out of the refrigerator. Then he opened the cupboards in search of a frying pan and mixing bowl. “Romance novels?”
I hesitated before answering. Explaining my career to guys had gone wrong too many times in the past. I’d quickly discovered a lot of men were either intimidated by the idea that I wrote steaming hot sex or they assumed it meant I’d be ready to hop into bed with them at the drop of a hat. “Yeah. I’ve always enjoyed reading romance and was shocked when an agent snapped up my first book and managed to sell it to a publisher.”
“How long ago was that?” he asked as he started to break open a half dozen eggs.
“About four years ago.”
“You were what, twenty back then?” I raised my eyebrows at him, surprised he knew my age. He grimaced a little before telling me something I already should have thought of myself. “I had Brody run a background check on you.”
“Can you let him know I’m sorry for almost putting him to sleep?” I joked, appalled to think about how boring they both must have found it. My life was incredibly dull—especially compared to two ex-Navy SEALs.
“I also searched your house before you got there,” he admitted softly.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, letting my head drop onto the counter. On the surface, I kept my home decently clean, though I was pretty sure his idea of a search wasn’t wandering from room to room without looking in closets or drawers. Or under the beds. “Please, just kill me now.”
“Hey,” he said softly, moving around the counter to rub my back gently. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Can we just tattoo the word ‘slob’ on my forehead and get it over with?”
I lifted my head when he chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. Much, much worse.”
“I’m a bit of a hoarder,” I admitted. “An absent-minded one.”
“An adorable one,” he corrected, running a finger along my cheek before heading back to stir the eggs.
“Yeah, adorable,” I repeated grumpily, not exactly thrilled that the guy who made me drool thought I was something as mundane as adorable. I preferred him to think of me as sexy or irresistible.
“And an incredibly talented one if you managed to sign a publishing deal when you were twenty.” Blaine flashed a grin at me as he poured the egg mixture into the hot pan.
The admiration in his tone helped to soothe my hurt feelings. “There’s a lot of luck involved, too. So many authors out there are way more talented than me. I was just in the right place at the right time with the right story.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Delia. You wouldn’t have done half as well if you didn’t have a gift.”
I smiled at the snap in his tone. “I think it’s hard for me to think of it that way since I’ve always been an avid reader. It’s a little surreal to think of myself in the same light as authors whose books I’ve read over and over again.”
He turned to look at me. “I hope you figure out a way to start.” His eyes met mine, but before I could reply, he turned back to the eggs, sprinkling the rest of the ingredients into the frying pan. “I’m sure you’ve been asked this a million times before...”
I cringed and braced myself, waiting for the inevitable dirty comment about sex scenes and feeling acute disappointment at the idea of him ruining what had been a lovely conversation.
“But how do you manage to come up with so many different story ideas?”
The spurt of amazed laughter spilling from my lips was as much of a surprise as his question had been—but a pleasant one. “I find inspiration in all sorts of places,” I answered, thinking he certainly offered a wealth of it. “People watching, stories I’ve heard, newspaper articles, personal experiences, dreams. Some of my best ideas have come to me in a flash in the middle of the night. Luckily, I
keep a notepad next to the bed so I don’t forget them all when I wake up. Or in the shower, but it’s a little more tricky to jot stuff down when I’m wet.”
By the time I finished my answer, Blaine was sliding the omelet onto a plate, along with some toast. “Never thought I’d hear a woman complain about not being able to take notes when she’s wet.” The devilish glint in his eye and tilt of his lips made me a little weak in the knees. “Maybe you need a volunteer, someone to help you dry off when that happens.”
I could think of a lot of other things he could help with in the shower and none of them involved a towel or drying off—more like getting dirty and wet at the same time. “Maybe I do,” I finally answered.
“Coffee, juice, or milk?” he offered.
“Coffee, please.”
He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it for me. “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
The smile he flashed me was filled with approval as he split the omelet in half and moved it onto a second plate, adding toast to that one as well. He set one of the plates in front of me and slid onto the stool next to me. My stomach growled again, reminding me it had been too many hours since my last meal. I took a bite of the omelet and nodded in appreciation.
I only made it about halfway through my plate before I was full. Blaine was still eating and I forced my gaze away from him to survey my surroundings. When my eyes roamed the living room, I noticed the throw blanket stuffed into a corner and the laptop on the floor. “Did you manage to get any sleep at all?”
“Enough to get me by,” he replied.
When he finished his meal, I got up and gathered the dirty dishes to rinse them off in the sink. “Something you learned as a SEAL?”
“Yes and no. My mom would be the first to tell you I didn’t sleep much as a kid. Always had too much energy to burn. It was useful when the only sleep I could grab was a combat nap here and there, so I can’t really complain anymore when she razzes me about it.”
“It looks like you were busy last night. Have you figured out what you’re going to do?”
“Without any word from Serena yet, I have to move forward with the assumption that she used your name to check into the hotel and they somehow found her and killed her. Brody’s working on confirming the identity of the body in the morgue. As long as they upload whatever data they’ve already collected, he’ll be able to get his hands on it.” He looked pensive, reminding me he knew Serena well enough for her to call him for help when she was in danger.
“You never did tell me how you knew Serena.” I wasn’t sure why, but he looked uncomfortable with my question.
“We grew up together. Our moms are close friends.”
“Oh,” I sighed. Now I was the one who felt uncomfortable. A woman he’d known since he was a kid might have been murdered a day ago and here I was asking pesky questions about her.
His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the floor. “I haven’t seen her in years, but we also dated back in high school.”
That explained his discomfort. The sparks had been flying between us and we had only met because his ex-girlfriend resembled me closely enough to pass as my sister—and she might be dead. It certainly was an awkward situation. One that warranted a change of topic.
“What are we going to be doing while Brody is busy hacking into police records?”
“I’m going to work on identifying and locating the unsubs.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raised my eyebrow to express my displeasure with his response. He was making it crystal clear he didn’t want me to get involved, and he managed to do it in one short sentence. “And while you’re doing that, I’m going to be sitting here twiddling my thumbs?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
If we were cartoon characters, steam would be coming out of my ears. “How are you going to find the bad guys?”
“Brody sent me the address for Serena’s work. I’ll head over there and ask a few questions. See if she has a co-worker who knows what was going on with her.”
“Where did she work?”
“A real estate office downtown. Not too far from her townhouse.”
I didn’t have a lot of experience with co-workers since my first novel had been picked up while I was still in college, but I knew women well enough to know they weren’t likely to share personal information about a friend with some strange guy—even if he was hot. Not without a compelling reason to spill, anyway. And I didn’t like the jealousy that flared when I concluded he’d only be able to get one of them to talk by flirting. “Take a good look at me, Blaine.”
I shivered as his eyes locked with mine. “I already have every inch of you memorized.”
“It would be so much easier if you took me with you,” I urged. “We could say I’m Serena’s sister and I’m worried about her because I haven’t been able to reach her but it hasn’t been long enough for the police to let me file a missing persons report.”
“Saying you’re her sister is too risky. If someone there knows her well enough to know what she’d gotten into, then odds are they’ll also know she’s an only child.”
I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration at the logic behind his statement, but I resisted. In the end, I knew it wouldn’t help me convince him that I could be an asset and not a liability. “Then I’ll be her cousin. We look enough alike that nobody would question it and it’s not likely anyone there knows her entire family tree.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed behind. I don’t have the slightest clue what happened to Serena yet. For all I know, it could be connected to her work.”
I broke out the big guns and gave him the puppy dog eyes, batting my eyelashes for good measure. “It’s a real estate office in a crowded city. How much trouble could I possibly get into when you’re there with me?”
“Shit,” he mumbled.
“Please take me with you,” I pleaded, pushing harder since I could tell he was actually considering it. The last thing I wanted was to get stuck all alone for the day in this suite, no matter how luxurious it was. I’d just spent ten days by myself. I didn’t want to spend the next four the same way. Definitely not when I could be with Blaine instead.
“If you come with me, then you need to stick close to me. Listen to what I say. Do what I say when I say to do it. Do you think you can do that?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet in excitement.
“This isn’t a field trip. It’s a reconnaissance mission. We get in, get the intel we need, and get out.”
“In and out,” I repeated. “Understood.”
Blaine wrapped his hands around my arms as he looked down at me. “Using your cover story makes sense.”
“It does.” My heart leaped in excitement. I tried to dampen my enthusiasm, wanting to project an air of confidence, not giddiness.
“But we have to use it today. Once we get past the forty-eight-hour mark, we won’t have an excuse for not bringing the police into it.”
“I can be ready to go whenever you need me to be,” I offered.
He shook his head slightly. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this,” he mumbled before his voice firmed with determination. “Be ready in thirty minutes. Dress comfortably—no skirts, no heels. If I tell you to run, you need to be able to move fast.”
“I packed gym shoes and jeans.”
“Go. Before I change my mind.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, rising on my toes to place my lips lightly over his in gratitude, as if it kissing him was the most natural thing in the world for me to do. I only had my surprise to blame since being that bold was so out of character for me. When what I had just done registered in my brain, I started to pull away so I could apologize. I didn’t get far, though. One of Blaine’s hands slid up my arm and over my neck, holding me in place.
Chapter 7
Blaine
Cupping the back of Delia’s ne
ck, I pulled her closer to my body. With the most innocent of gestures, she already had my heart racing and my cock hard and aching. As much as I wanted to ravage her mouth, her startled gasp before she tried to step away from me let me know she wasn’t ready for me to deepen the kiss. So I kept the connection between us gentle, lowering my lips and softly brushing them against hers. I ran my tongue across her bottom lip before taking it into my mouth and nipping at it—wanting her to open for me. On another gasp, her lips parted and my tongue dipped inside, tangling with hers. I allowed myself to savor the taste of her for a moment before easing away.
I had to bite back a groan as I watched Delia’s tongue swipe across her lower lip, capturing the taste of my kiss. Her eyes were glazed, lids lowered halfway. The pulse in her neck was fluttering and her hands were clenched, my shirt bunched in them. I felt great satisfaction in knowing she felt the same pull between us.
“I’ve never felt anything like this before.” I’d been on missions involving women, but I’d never been tempted to cross the line with any of them. With Delia, it was like the line had been obliterated.
“Neither have I,” she admitted.
I was relieved to know I wasn’t in this alone, but the timing of our meeting sucked. “We can’t do this now. Not when I need to concentrate on figuring out what happened to Serena and keeping you safe.”
The mood between us shifted at my words—a heady reminder that a girl who used to mean a lot to me was most likely dead. She wasn’t just the girl next door growing up, Serena had been the last woman I’d called my girlfriend, even though she was just a girl back then. After we had broken up, I had way too much fun fucking my way through the rest of high school to bother with another relationship. I’d been a teenage boy with more than enough responsibility on my shoulders. I wasn’t about to voluntarily add another one to my plate, not when girls were more than willing to give it up without a commitment.
Identity Crisis Page 6