by Tawny Weber
He almost stood right back up. “What? Prepared how? For what?”
“You’re right.” Using her fingers, she tossed together the bowl full of chopped vegetables. “He is going to be watching. Carefully. So we have to make sure we look like a newly engaged couple.”
“Are you back to that how I proposed garbage?” Aiden asked, tension wrapping around him so tight he could choke on it.
How the hell did a guy propose? She wasn’t going to want him to pretend to have done any of that silly romantic crap, was she? On one knee, spouting soppy poetry about her eyes and moonbeams?
He gave her a narrow look and clenched his teeth. Yeah, she probably was. That was the kind of thing the dorks she usually dated would do. The kind of thing she was used to.
“Your father isn’t going to be asking that kind of question,” Aiden insisted, trying to shrug off the bitter taste of jealousy. Why should he care about a bunch of dorks? It wasn’t as if this was a real engagement. If Sage wanted to waste herself on idiot losers, that was her problem.
“Your dad’s going to want logistics,” he told her. “When we saw each other last, where I was stationed and how often you came to visit. He’s not going to care about the fluffy trappings.”
“But my friends are. And he knows I’d share all of that with them.” Using a thick dish towel, she pulled the casserole from the oven, set it on the stove top to cool then faced him again. The spicy scent of tomatoes, sausage and cheese filled the air, making Aiden’s stomach growl. “He’s a sociologist. He knows women share those emotional details and judge each other on them. He’s also my father. He knows these are the kind of things that would matter to me, the kind I’d talk to my friends about while I was worrying over if this was the right or wrong decision.”
“You do worry a lot for such a mellow person,” Aiden said with a grimace. He couldn’t hold the grumpy look, though. Not when whatever she’d pulled from the oven smelled so good. He couldn’t remember the last home-cooked meal he’d had, but he knew he hadn’t eaten anything in years that tasted as good as her dish smelled.
“Of course, my girlfriends already know the important things, even without me having to tell them.”
“What important things? That I know you cheat on your healthy-eating regime with Tilly’s donuts?” Who didn’t know that? Hell, everyone broke down for Tilly’s. Her apple fritters would even make uptight Lieutenant Banks break down and get friendly.
“No,” she disagreed, bringing plates and silverware to the table. “They all agree that you’re huge. So hey, we’re clearly off to a good start in both the gossip category, and our wedding-night potential.”
Huge? Huh? His gaze whipped from the cheese-covered dish to Sage’s wicked grin.
“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
Her dancing gaze assured him that, yes, indeed, she and her friends had talked about the size of his dick. A dick that none of them had ever seen, dammit. He had to fight back a blush.
“They were talking about our news, and compared the hugeness of it to, well, the hugeness of other things.” She raised both brows, lowered her chin just a little and wriggled them toward his lap. As if he needed the help figuring out what she meant?
Well, there went his appetite.
“They didn’t really ask that,” he denied, more hopeful than sure. What was wrong with these women? They really talked about guys like that? How the hell did the size of his dick come into the conversation?
He peered at Sage. Did she have X-ray vision or something?
“Actually, no.” She paused, just for a second. Then, as the tension started to fade in his gut, she gave him a wicked smile. “They weren’t asking. They were positively stating. If we were really engaged, I might be jealous enough to want details on how my friends know so much about the state of your endowments, so to speak.”
Aiden damn near put both hands over his crotch, like that’d keep its secrets.
“I’ve never...”
He slammed his mouth shut.
Name and rank. Don’t ever offer up any more than the necessities. And in this situation, he decided the only necessity was silence.
Except for the gurgling amusement coming from the woman across from him, of course. Aiden debated glaring, but figured that’d only spur her on. Or worse, tempt her to ask for proof.
And the temptation to show her proof was growing by the second. Growing so much that he shifted his chair just a little so his legs—and other things—were under the cover of the table.
Maybe they’d be better off talking about down-on-one-knee proposals. Those didn’t tempt him to strip off his clothes and offer up his body as dessert.
* * *
AIDEN WAS so damned cute.
Uptight, overthinking and way too by-the-book for her tastes. But the cuteness really did offset those things.
Sage’s laughter faded but her smile stayed in place as she watched him shift in his chair. Poor guy, all that military training and living with the scratching, belching gender and you’d think he’d understand crudeness. But guys never seemed to grasp just how down and dirty women got when they were dishing on a guy. Or on his equipment.
“I thought men were big on sharing their adventures,” she said with a shrug, still grinning as she mixed oil, vinegar and a few herbs in a bottle. “You know, that locker-room talk, comparing bedpost notches, that kind of thing.”
“The only guys who do that are insecure assholes.”
Something Aiden clearly wasn’t.
Intriguing, given that they were talking both size, and talent. Her body tingled a little, both in excitement and impatience. She really, really wanted to find out about both for herself.
The size was negligible. But the talent? Her tingles took on a little extra heat. Oh, yeah. She’d bet he had a lot of talent to share. But knowing Aiden, she was going to have to ease him into that next step.
“Ahh, I see. Only assholes have to brag, then,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “That makes sense. And my dating history would prove that theory right.”
Watching her pour dressing over the salad as if he were checking it for explosives, Aiden frowned and asked, “What is it with you and the losers?”
Good question. One that put quite the damper on her tingles.
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“No, seriously.” When he saw that she was done, he got up, crossed the room and took the salad—and the lasagna—to carry to the table. Sage stood dumbfounded, with nothing to carry herself but her glass of wine.
She’d cooked a lot of meals for guys over the years. But none had ever helped. Not even with something as simple as carrying the food to the table. Not even her father.
It wasn’t that she dated sexist jerks. She was too savvy for that. More like...thoughtless, self-absorbed guys.
Which was definitely something else to think about.
Grabbing the tray of bread, oil and vinegar, she joined Aiden at the small table he’d set up in the corner of the kitchen.
“You’re a gorgeous woman. Intelligent, fun, interesting. You’re optimistic, open-minded and outgoing. Throw in sexy and loyal and you’re almost too good to be true for most guys.” Aiden scooped up a huge spoonful of lasagna, taking a bite while it was still steaming hot. His eyes closed for a second and he gave a low hum. “Throw in an excellent cook and a clever conversationalist and I just don’t get it.”
Wide-eyed, Sage stared. He thought she was all those things?
She’d never suffered from low self-esteem. She’d been raised to appreciate not only her gifts but to embrace what set her apart from others. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know she was any of those things he’d said.
But that he thought she was all that, too?
Her stomach tightened and her breath c
aught in her throat.
Wow.
“Just don’t get what?” she asked faintly.
“I don’t get why the first time you’re engaged, it’s to me and it’s fake.” He scooped up another forkful of food, this one big enough that she almost offered to get him a serving spoon to eat with. “Why do you date guys who have to stroke their sad little egos in the locker room? Who use you, instead of worship you.”
She felt like her heart were made of candle wax, and it was melting all through her chest. Warm, cozy and a little stickier than she preferred to be, she bit her lip.
“Would you?”
Using the bread to sop up sauce instead of dipping it in the oil, he gave her a questioning look.
“Would I what?”
“Would you worship me?” she asked after clearing the desire out of her throat.
His hazel eyes turned molten, as if his thoughts were so hot, everything was melting. Sage’s breath caught in her chest, her heart suddenly racing out of control at that look. Her thighs trembled and moisture pooled, wetting her panties.
Over just a look.
Oh, baby, that was talent. What could he do to her with a touch?
“That’s not the point,” he said, as always pulling that blasted control of his right back into place.
Sage wasn’t sure what she wanted more.
To find out what he could do with his touch.
Or to break his control.
She knew she’d made some poor decisions in the past. She’d learned her lessons the hard way and paid plenty of consequences for those decisions.
Nothing in life was free. Especially things that were extra tempting. But after a while, a girl got good at weighing the costs against the pleasure her decision might offer.
The cost of going after Aiden could be more than she could afford.
She didn’t care.
She wanted him. Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything. Anyone.
Maybe it was the distraction factor. The only time she wasn’t miserable with worry over her father was when she was with Aiden. She didn’t know if that was because he made her feel safe, like nothing bad could happen if he was around. Or if it was the constant state of sexual energy zinging through her body, short-circuiting her worry zones.
Or maybe it was the whole fake engagement thing. Playing the part, everybody thinking they were really engaged. That they were really free to have all the sex together they wanted, sanctioned by the promise of a ring and a piece of paper.
Or maybe it was because this was the most she’d spent time with Aiden since they were teenagers. And really the first time she’d seen him as more than her dad’s sidekick or her geeky sort-of friend. Now he was a sexy guy. A navy SEAL who had an air of danger about him that said he could kick any butt out there. And the rock-hard muscles to back that claim up nicely.
She wet her lips, noting the play of those muscles as he plowed his way through the lasagna.
“Aren’t you having any?” he asked.
“Oh, I’d love to. It looks delicious,” she said without thinking. Brows drawing together, she raised her gaze to his. “Having any what?”
“Dinner? Food?” He gestured with his fork to the already half-empty tray. “Lasagna?”
Oh. That.
Confused, and not liking it, Sage absently spooned a scoop onto her plate, then ate a bite.
“Is it as delicious as you thought?” he asked.
“I think I need to taste more before I decide.”
Before he could put into words the frown that slid across his face, she set her fork down, clasped her hands together and leaned forward.
“So, let’s talk about being engaged.”
“Are you back to that?” He sounded weary, his body language screaming let it go already. But Sage knew better. This was important. For more reasons than she was willing to admit.
“Don’t you think it’s important?” she asked instead. Seeing the stubborn look on his face, she changed tactics, shifting to words she knew he’d resonate with. “If you’re going on a mission, you’d know as much about your target as possible, wouldn’t you? You’d learn the terrain, know the language, observe the locals so you could blend.”
For just a second, his gaze heated and his eyes traveled over her body, as if assessing her terrain. She almost told him she liked her language a little naughty and suggested which body parts they should blend, but managed to clamp that behind her lips at the last moment.
His eyes met hers again, the expression in them guarded. Then he shrugged.
“Fine. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”
All the better. Attempting to seduce him on a table filled with food wasn’t her idea of sexy.
Sexy would be finding out how he liked it. If he was always in command, and how hard it’d be to break his control. Did he have to be on top? Or was he into experimenting?
More than ready to start finding out, Sage pushed her plate away. She gestured to the casserole dish, but he shook his head, indicating he didn’t want a fourth helping.
“You didn’t eat much,” he observed, leaning back in his chair and giving her a worried look. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Maybe. I don’t know.” She shrugged, getting to her feet to gather dishes. She needed to move. To do something productive. Before she did something crazy. “I’m distracted, I guess.”
“Worrying about your dad?”
“Yeah. About my dad, and about this whole engagement thing,” she said, setting the dishes in the sink. Before she could rinse, he was there with the salad bowl and mostly empty casserole dish.
She eyed his still-flat belly. Where did he put all that food?
“You cooked,” he told her. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“You’ll...”
“Yeah, don’t worry about them now,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm to gently move her away from the sink. “Let’s get this engagement issue nailed down so you can relax.”
Relax?
Well, if they nailed it—or he nailed her—the way she wanted, she’d definitely be relaxing.
6
SAGE MULLED OVER the different ways she’d like to work up to relaxation while brewing coffee. She’d insisted, since she wanted a few minutes to think before they had their little conversation. Stepping through the kitchen, her hands filled with her favorite brew, she took a deep breath.
The living room, like the kitchen and the rest of the small house, was just this side of bare, with only enough stuff in it to claim that it wasn’t vacant.
Even bare, though, the house had charm. Rough-hewn high-beam ceilings, plaster walls and arched doorways gave it a cottage feel. The tiny kitchen with its antique stove and butcher-block island, the cozy living room with the windows flanking the wide fireplace.
Facing that wall was a long, hand-me-down couch she remembered from his parents’ house. Remembered jumping on like it was a trampoline, to be exact. She gave it an assessing look. Those cushions might still have some good bounce in them.
Excitement swirled in her tummy and her breath hitched a little.
Time to find out.
“Coffee?” she asked, lifting the tray. “I brought my favorite roast, and a few different flavored oils in case you wanted to try something exotic.”
Oh, please, let him be down for trying exotic. Or kinky. Or, heck, she’d settle for just a little naughty.
“Black is fine. I don’t like any of that strange stuff with my coffee.”
Booooring. Sage wrinkled her nose, but poured him a plain ole, nothing-exotic coffee. She handed him the drink. Their fingers brushed, giving her enough of a tingle to make up for the lack of excitement in the cup.
She added a hint of hazelnut and a
dollop of whipped chocolate to hers, then joined him on the couch. The cushion gave just a little bounce when she sat, making her smile.
This could definitely get interesting.
“Some of my friends already asked about the ring,” she said before sipping her coffee.
“What’d you tell them?”
“That you were still searching for the perfect one.” She held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “I said you’d probably find one in some exotic locale while on duty, and that would make it extra special.”
He gave a laughing sort of shake of his head, then nodded to let her know he’d go along with the story.
“Okay, so how did we get engaged?” he asked, his tone making it clear that he was humoring her.
“Well, it needs to be realistic,” she decided, sipping her drink. She paused to lick the whipped chocolate off her upper lip, liking the way his gaze followed her move.
She was tempted to do it again. But if she moved too fast, Aiden would figure out her seduction plans. With some guys, that was okay. They’d either take it as a compliment, let it stroke their ego, or immediately reciprocate.
Aiden, she figured, would get up and walk away.
Not the kind of seduction reaction a girl usually aimed for.
Better to take a page out of his book. To go for some stealth seduction. A little recon, a little strategy, then move in for the hit.
“What if you were on leave on a beach somewhere, maybe Borneo or Fiji. You’re walking along the water at sunset, and you see a woman resting on the sand. Facedown, nude, sleeping so peacefully that you slow so as not to disturb her.” Sage shifted, arching her back as if she were feeling the setting sun on her bare skin. “Then, you feel this energy. This recognition deep in your heart.”
She ignored his eye roll, curling one leg under her as she got into a comfier position to weave her fantasy.
“Before you can decide whether to say something or move on, she lifts her head. Her hair slides over her face, but you recognize her. Your eyes meet. Sparks fly. Instantly, you both realize that this moment, this place, is everything you’ve been waiting for.”