Let It Ride

by Jillian Burns

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry. The bet was…juvenile.”

  She glanced nervously into the apartment, then stepped outside and closed the door, gripping the doorknob.

  Did she have a guy in there? Had she brought someone home with her last night? It was a crazy thought, but it made his hands itch to reach around her and shove open the door.

  She looked up at him, squinting into the noon sun, and he studied her more closely. Her face was free of makeup and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore an oversize T-shirt and cut-off shorts.

  “Captain McCabe was right. I knew all about your bet and—” she faltered exactly the way she had the night she’d tried to convince him she had five kids, and then she recovered, raising her chin defiantly “—decided to teach him a lesson. Anyway—” she drew in a deep breath “—you can leave with a clear conscience.” She stepped back inside and tried to shut the door.

  He planted a hand on the door above her head and leaned close. “Jordan. Believe me. My wanting you had nothing to do with a bet.” Staring into her violet eyes, he shook his head. “I still want you.”

  Just before her expression hardened, he thought he caught a flash of pain in her eyes.

  “Help!”

  Jordan flinched at the female screech from inside the apartment. “You need to leave,” Jordan insisted, shoving the door closed in his face.

  “Help me!” The screamer sounded terrified. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t leaving until he knew Jordan was safe. He pushed the door open, prepared to fight.

  Jordan swung around and gaped at him, but the stunned look morphed into a furious glare. She had her arm around a crying older woman. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m here.”

  Jordan’s mother?

  She was beautiful. An older version of Jordan. Her hair was disheveled and she clutched a ratty robe to her throat. She looked scared. Fragile. “Who are you?” she asked Jordan. “Why are you keeping me here?” She pulled away from her daughter and her bottom lip trembled.

  “I’m Jordie, Mom. Remember? You live here. I was just—Someone was at the door.”

  For the first time, the woman looked up at Cole, fear in her eyes.

  Cole smiled and extended his right hand. “I’m Cole, a friend of your daughter’s. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  The woman shrank from his hand and whimpered.

  Jordan shot him an irritated scowl. “Cole was just leaving.” She raised her brows and glanced pointedly at the door.

  Instead of leaving, Cole scanned the tiny apartment. It was spotlessly clean, but contained only a minimum of furniture. The living-room furnishings consisted of an old sofa with a neatly folded blanket and pillow at one end, and a small TV with a scarred coffee table as a stand. Under the front window sat a little dining table and two chairs marking the entrance to a miniscule galley kitchen. Textbooks and notebooks lay scattered on the table. Jordan’s university books.

  Beyond the front room a short hallway led to two doors. He guessed a bedroom and a bathroom. Did Jordan sleep on the couch? “Actually,” he improvised, “I came to ask you two beautiful women to lunch.” He smiled at Jordan’s mother. “Ma’am?”

  “Oh.” The woman smiled.

  “No.” Jordan spoke firmly. “We’re not dressed. Besides. I don’t think we’d all fit on your bike.”

  Damn. He hadn’t thought of that.

  “But I can get dressed.” Her mother began finger-combing her hair. “I’d like to go out. It’s been a long time since a man asked me out.” Her voice trailed off and her face took on a faraway expression.

  Jordan left her side and began pushing Cole toward the door. “My mom doesn’t do well in public,” she said quietly. “And I have to study for finals this week. Now, please. Go.”

  Cole glanced back at Jordan’s beautiful, ill mother and something inside him shifted. His throat constricted and he let himself be shoved over the threshold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Jordan’s eyes sparked with anger. “I don’t need your pity. I just need you to leave me alone.” Then she slammed the door in his face.

  UNBELIEVABLE. Some guys just didn’t know when to quit.

  He thought he could just come over here and stare at her with those deep-brown eyes, smelling all manly, and tell her he still wanted her and expect her to fall into his arms?

  Jordan spent a half hour soothing her mother’s tantrum and finally got her settled on the sofa watching All My Children.

  This wasn’t the first time her mom had forgotten her. But every time Mom looked at her as if she was a stranger, Jordan felt as if she’d lost a piece of who she was. Her usual pragmatism had seen her through a lot the past few years. But it ripped out a chunk of her soul to think about the future.

  She stared at a can of chicken soup in one hand and a can of tuna in the other. But she had no appetite, and her mother had refused to eat.

  Replacing both cans in the cabinet, she dropped into a kitchen chair, opened her notebook, and tried to concentrate. But the words blurred, and she closed her stinging eyes.

  She’d lain awake a long time last night trying to persuade herself there was no reason to feel humiliated. After all, it had been her choice to go with him on his bike. Her decision to have sex. And she’d gone into it knowing it would be a one-night stand. So what if he’d only pursued her because of a bet? For a few hours she’d been carefree and irresponsible. And the sex had sizzled.

  But deep down was a pinprick of pain she couldn’t reason away. She’d been seduced—literally—by the fantasy. Again. Somehow, her twisted psyche had believed Cole had wanted the real Jordan. Not just the leggy blonde with C cups, but the person on the inside. Her pencil snapped in her hands. All those sincere lines about wanting to get to know her. Hah! She’d been suckered into feeling a connection with the guy. And she only had herself to blame.

  She jumped when the doorbell rang. What now? She’d never get any studying done at this rate.

  As she swung open the door, her breath caught.

  Cole gripped three bulging plastic grocery bags in each hand. His mouth was set in a determined line. “If I can’t take you to lunch, I’ll bring lunch to you.” He pushed past her without an invitation.

  “Cole.” She followed him into the kitchen where he began unpacking the bags. Deli meats and cheeses, whole wheat bread, lettuce, tomatoes, fresh fruit…Her stomach rumbled so loudly even the TV couldn’t drown out the sound. “I really can’t accept—Is that pasta salad?”

  He grinned as he glanced at the clear plastic container. “You like?” He bent to search through her cabinets and drawers, pulling out plates and silverware, and a chopping board. “Do you have a—ah, perfect!” He held up a large kitchen knife.

  Her pulse sped up at his warm smile.

  Ooh, that was exactly how she’d weakened the last time. She had to stay strong. Unmoved.

  But his eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked at her, and a lock of dark brown hair fell over his forehead as he shrugged out of his jacket. Beneath was another perfectly starched button-down shirt, a deep blue this time. It was tucked neatly into low-riding jeans that hugged his butt and long legs.

  But she wasn’t falling for that devilish smile and perfect butt. She wasn’t.

  “You don’t have to do this. I don’t need your charity—”

  “Jordan.” Her name sounded so sexy as it rumbled in his deep voice. He shifted his weight and folded his arms. And he looked at her. His gaze didn’t drift once to her breasts, but stared solemnly into her eyes, as if he really saw her. “They’re only sandwiches.”

  Yeah, he’d said the same thing about the ice cream and look where that had gotten her.

  She was too aware of his large frame moving around, overwhelming the space, overwhelming her senses. She continued to stand there as he unbuttoned his sleeves, rolled them up and washed his hands at the sink. She remembered the feel of them on her br
easts and caressing her back, clutching her hips…She swallowed.

  Oh, she was doing it again. She should throw him out. He was only trying to relieve his own guilt. And she didn’t want some pity-lunch.

  Her mother breezed into the kitchen, grinning as if Cole was a regular visitor in their home. While he sliced the tomato, she poured him a glass of iced tea and—there was no other word for it—she flirted. Like a young girl with a teenage crush.

  Jordan watched in utter fascination. She’d never known her dad. He’d left before she was even born. But she suddenly saw her mom as she must have been before she’d been burdened with an unwanted pregnancy and a paycheck-to-paycheck life as a single mother.

  Tammy Lynn Brenner was lovely. Moving in sync with Cole as they put sandwiches together, she dimpled and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Not overtly sexual, but simply…sensual, yet without guile.

  Jordan found herself sitting at the kitchen table while Mom served her tea and a sandwich as if she were waiting on customers back at the diner in Iowa. Maybe she shouldn’t have moved her mom out here when she got sick. Maybe Jordan should have tried to find a job in Cedar Falls.

  Cole set the bowls of fruit and pasta salad in the center of the table, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Let’s eat.” He pulled the other chair out for her mother, and then hopped up on the counter with his plate.

  Jordan bit into her sandwich and closed her eyes as her mouth watered. She’d been starving.

  “So, you have finals this week?” Cole asked.

  “Yes. Tomorrow and Thursday.” And, she hoped, by Friday she’d know how she’d done.

  “What’s your major?”

  “Computer Science. I hope to find something in programming or IT support.”

  As he asked her more, she told him about how she’d researched the market before deciding on a career field and how a few years ago the number of IT companies in Vegas had increased. But now, she might have to look in other cities. The subject changed to the once booming housing market in the suburbs, and how it seemed to have dropped off in the past couple of years, forcing many military families out of rentals that were being foreclosed.

  Every few moments she’d sneak a peek at Cole. Watching him eat was torturous. His mouth closing around the sandwich, his jaw muscles tightening as he chewed. She shouldn’t be this captivated. But his firm thighs covered by tight jeans were right in front of her and she found it impossible to stop her gaze from straying to the significant bulge between them.

  He cleared his throat and she glanced up into his eyes. He knew she’d been staring at his crotch. Her cheeks burned. Oh, please let the earth swallow me up now.

  “Did you want to play, too?” her mom asked.

  Jordan blinked. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”

  “Tammy and I are going to play some Gin,” Cole answered.

  “Oh.” Jordan checked the time. “I’m sure Cole has other things to do.” If she weren’t such an idiot she’d have gone back to the bedroom and studied instead of wasting time drooling over some smooth operator. “But you and I can play, Mom.” With a longing glance at her class notes, she stood and stacked the plates. “As soon as I do these dishes, okay?”

  Cole jumped off the counter as she rose. “I’ve got these.” He took the plates from her and grabbed the silverware with his other hand. “Why don’t you go study?” The unwavering look in his eyes softened as he flashed that devilish smile at her mother and took two strides to the sink. “I’ll wash if you dry, Tammy.”

  Her mother simpered as she got to her feet, picking up napkins and tea glasses. She turned a wondrous look to Jordan. “He’s such a hunk,” she whispered like a schoolgirl as she followed him.

  Jordan’s face flamed. She couldn’t let him bring lunch and wash the dishes. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Her mother had thrown a fit earlier when Jordan had made him leave. Resentment flared. Why did she have to be the bad guy and Cole got to be Mr. Charming Hunk making nice with her mom? Playing the role of hero, stepping in to save the day. She didn’t need rescuing. They were just fine without him.

  She watched her mom smiling and laughing with Cole. Having fun for the first time in a long time.

  And the truth was, she did need some quiet time to study. Would it hurt to accept help just this once? It wasn’t as if she was depending on him for any kind of long-term commitment.

  Spine stiffening, she gathered up her notebooks and textbooks. Cole looked up from washing a plate and stared at her. She met his dark gaze and the back of her neck tingled. The room felt hot, suffocating. She knew—she just knew—he was remembering that night on his motorcycle. His hands on her body, his mouth buried between her thighs. Him, inside her.

  At the memory, her cotton panties were wet. Before he could read the need on her face, she ducked her head and strode into the bedroom.

  6

  “YOU GOT a personal problem, Jackson?” Lieutenant Colonel Ethan Grady barked the question like the drill sergeant he used to be as he straddled the stool next to Cole’s. Even if Grady hadn’t approached him on his good side, Cole would have heard him.

  Cole swigged the last of his Cuervo and let the final strains of George Jones’s “I’ll Always Get Lucky With You” end before he acknowledged him. “Besides you?”

  “You were supposed to meet us at that yoga lady’s shop after lunch.” Grady waved the bartender over. “Soda water. No ice.”

  “Oh.” Cole signaled for another shot of Cuervo.

  “‘Oh’? That’s it? You risked your uncle’s fifty-year-old Scotch to make me get a herbal treatment and then you don’t even show?”

  “So, did the lady help you find your chi?” Cole sucked down the next shot of Cuervo.

  Grady took a sip of his water. “Nope. We’ll have to reschedule. Figured you needed to be there since you won the bet.” He set down his drink and turned to face Cole. “Where you been the last twelve hours?”

  Where had he been? Some alternate universe, maybe? That was the only explanation for why he’d knocked on Jordan’s door intent on seduction and then settled for domestic duties. He’d played Gin all afternoon with a poor lady who was losing her mind. And left without making a move on Jordan. Not even a kiss on the cheek as she’d shown him to the door. Maybe he was losing his mind, too.

  Grady’s hand clamped on his shoulder. “You okay?”

  Cole noted Grady’s worried gaze. He was sick of people looking at him like that. “I’m good.”

  Trying to clear his mind, he’d ridden out to Hoover Dam after leaving Jordan’s and watched some guys kayaking down Black Canyon. He’d shot those rapids before. But never again. The knowledge burned a hole only tequila could fill. Or Jordan.

  No. He had to shake the whole Jordan thing off. She was just a Keno girl he’d had a good time with. There’d been plenty before her. And there’d be plenty after. So she’d treated him as if they were nothing more than polite strangers when he’d left this afternoon. He’d never wanted to get involved with the woman anyway. Relationships tied a man down. Just ask his dad.

  What he needed was to get his head straight. Get back in the saddle, as his grandfather would have said. He’d apologized to Jordan, right?

  He gulped his Cuervo, slammed the tumbler on the bar, and stood. “I only got a few days left. Let’s go find some women.”

  Grady’s brows shot up, but he finished his water and then followed Cole upstairs to Studio 54.

  Even on a Tuesday night at one in the morning, The Grand’s largest nightclub buzzed with energy. The throbbing bass vibrated in Cole’s chest, half-naked go-go girls danced in cages, strobe lights flickered on the dance floor crowded with women. The thunderous music rendered him deaf to human voices, but then probably everyone in here was.

  Forgetting Grady, he shouldered his way to the dance floor where half a dozen women were gyrating to the pounding rhythm. Their arms raised, they bumped against each other, but smiled as he joined them.
r />   He smiled back.

  One of them moved in front of him and slid her palm down his shirt front. Another came from behind and grabbed his butt. Oh, yeah. This is what he needed. He leaned down to ask the one in front her name and she stabbed her nails into his hair and bit his earlobe.

  He jerked away.

  A woman behind him grabbed his arm and he turned to find a curvy redhead. He slid his hand down her spine to the top of her sweet round bottom, intent on kissing her. But her makeup seemed packed on and her perfume was too sharp, too spicy.

  He turned to a dark-skinned beauty. Ahh, yes. A fiery señorita was just what he needed. She smiled at him, but he closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. The heat of her soft body crushed against him. The feel of her hands slipping under his jacket and running over his shoulders. He tried to conjure images of the señorita in his bed. But all he could picture were long blond curls spread over his pillow.

  What was wrong with him?

  He spun on his heel and pushed past the dancing women, his throat tight. His temples pounding in frustration, he headed for the exit.

  Grady stood close to the door, his arms folded, and his face expressionless. Suddenly, Grady’s unfailing composure infuriated Cole. The man never drank. Never swore. Never lost control, while Cole’s life had been in a crazy tailspin ever since he’d crashed in the Iraqi desert.

  Damn it. He had no say over his life anymore. His career was in the hands of his commanders. How long was it going to take for them to write him off as officially useless? Waiting for the verdict was like sitting on death row. Before, he could have channeled this restless energy into any one of a dozen adrenaline-pumping activities, all denied him now that he’d lost his equilibrium. All but one.

  And now it seemed he couldn’t even do that.

  “Where are you going?” Grady asked as Cole strode by him.

  “What are you, my fucking nursemaid?” Cole kept walking, picking up speed as he cleared the doors.

  Grady kept pace with him. “If it’s your career you’re worried about, Jackson, don’t. Even if you did break formation out there, you saved lives. The Air Force will take that into consideration. New orders will come through. You’re too valuable an asset for them to—”