Private Maneuvers: Hot Zone Book 3

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Nothing more than my concern. What’s so bad about that?”

  She sighed and didn’t answer. He could see his handiwork on her glasses had held up. The silvery frames couldn’t hide that ocean depth quality in her eyes.

  Immediately Jake’s mind and body reacted. She wore a blood red sundress with a modest dip to her cleavage, and the skirt swished around her calves. The dress almost appeared too big for her. Her pale skin contrasted with the red material, but damn, it looked good on her. Better than good. The filmy cotton dress didn’t cling, but his imagination ran rampant thinking about those soft, delicious curves hidden beneath. Her black hair swirled around her shoulders in a thick, rich cloud. She wore no makeup, or at least not much that he could see.

  “Miss Clyde. Good to see you again,” Jake said.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Her rudeness took him off guard. “I was invited. Your uncle wants me to work for him as a bouncer while the regular is gone.”

  Her pretty lips narrowed in a frown. “You live in Clarksville?”

  “No. I was invited to interview for this job. Keith let me know about it.”

  “I thought you were in the Army?” She crossed her arms and glared, as if she’d caught him in a heinous lie.

  “I’m moonlighting while I have a month’s leave.”

  Her lips pursed for a second, and a wild image filled his mind with flames, like a heat seeking missile. He wanted to sweep her up and start tasting her. Lick her nipples, slip his fingers deep within wet folds and bring her the hottest, hardest orgasm she’d ever experienced. The desire swamped him so fiercely he sucked in a short breath.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Unless I screwed up this interview, I think I’m starting work here soon.” He cast a glance at Dexter and the older man smiled and nodded.

  She uttered a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Well, welcome to the club, Chief Sullivan. Could I talk to you in private, Uncle?”

  Jake didn’t know whether to find gratification that she remembered his rank, or not.

  Jake moved towards the door as her uncle gave an affirmative. “When do you want me to start, Dexter?”

  “Tomorrow night when the doors open.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  As she shut the door firmly behind him, Jake heard her say to her uncle, “Are you crazy?”

  ***

  Marisa yawned and closed her eyes. God, she wanted to succumb to this sudden, acute exhaustion. But she couldn’t. She walked toward her uncle’s office, ready to start on the paperwork he’d left her. Still, running errands around Clarksville this morning had drained her bizarrely meager physical resources. She couldn’t understand why her body acted like a wet dishrag. She’d slept in. Maybe she needed more rest and relaxation before she started helping her uncle, but she hated to feel lazy. Then again, her night had been filled with weird dreams about her soldier. Perhaps that explained why she felt weary.

  Correction. Not her soldier. Simply Chief Warrant Officer Jake Sullivan. Or as his team members called him, “Sully”. Chief Sullivan to her. If she thought of him as Jake or Sully, she found the name too intimate. Then she’d remember those dreams again and again until they overflowed and demanded more attention than she wanted to give.

  Dreams that edged on the erotic, filled with images of him sprawled, semi-naked, over her bed. Yesterday, when she’d eavesdropped on Uncle Dexter’s conversation with Jake in the office, she couldn’t even feel ashamed of herself for listening. She’d stood in the hallway, her senses spinning when she realized Jake Sullivan sat in her uncle’s office and negotiated taking a job at this bar. No way. No way could Jake be here messing up her life. Delving into her psyche and creating crazy scenes in her dreams. But he had.

  She settled behind the desk and tried to forget how Jake’s masculine form had dwarfed the chair across from her. His image seemed burned into her mind with laser precision, designed to torture, to seek out all the answers in her mind she didn’t want to give. Growling with frustration, she flipped on her uncle’s computer. Thank goodness he used a computer, kept records and always backed up his files.

  Morning came and went as she worked on his records. He called around two o’clock to say his golf game had lasted longer than expected. She smiled and returned to work. Good for him. He needed the break.

  A sharp cracking noise near the back door made her jerk and gasp in fright. Heart pounding, she started to stand. An unaccountable fear rose in the pit of her stomach. Her breath hitched as she muscled around the ridiculous reaction to the innocent crack of expanding or contracting wood. She came around the side of the desk, headed for the door, and ran smack into a large body.

  She bounced backwards and lost her footing. A squeak left her throat as two powerful arms whipped around her waist.

  “Whoa,” Jake said as he gathered her close to his chest.

  “Jake,” she gasped.

  “Hey. Everything all right?”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief and clung to his shoulders. “Yes.”

  Time slowed to a crawl as she registered his body tucked from chest to thigh along hers. Solid man didn’t quite describe him—it was an understatement. His eyes went hot and caressing, and desire curled in her stomach. Instead of releasing her, he kept her pressed close. Heat engulfed Marisa.

  He released her slowly. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or disappointment. Overwhelmed by primitive sensations she couldn’t quite define, she decided retreating might serve her better than standing immobile like an idiot.

  “What are you doing here so early?” she asked.

  He stepped farther into the room. “I’m moving into the other apartment next to yours. Remember?”

  “Oh. Right.” Lame, girl. So lame.

  Jake crossed his arms, and those biceps bulged way too nicely. She couldn’t help noticing, as much as she’d rather not. Face it, girl, he has something special. Not sure what, but it’s there. So what. She didn’t have to succumb to his charisma. People made choices all the time, and she made one now, to keep herself detached.

  “Where’s your suitcase?” she asked.

  He nodded toward his feet. He’d dropped his drab olive duffle on the floor when he’d prevented her from falling. “Everything in here is all I need for a month’s stay.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “You’re an optimistic guy. You were pretty sure my uncle would offer you this job?”

  “Yep.”

  She shifted her gaze to the side, staring at the floor to avoid an intimidating quality in his eyes. “My uncle could have told you no.”

  “I was pretty sure he wouldn’t.”

  “You’re a self assured man. My uncle likes that. I suppose you two get along fabulously.”

  He smiled. “He promised to kick my ass if I didn’t treat you right. But you’ll never have to worry around me. I would never hurt a woman.”

  “I can tell. You like to protect women.”

  His head tilted to the side. “My father instilled that in me too. I’ve got a large family. I’m the oldest of six kids. I’m the big brother and the rest are all girls.”

  She smiled. “Wow.”

  “Wow is an excellent word for it.”

  Okay, so maybe she’d jumped to a few conclusions about his rescuing personality. He’d grown up surrounded by women, and that often created one of two reactions in a man. Protectiveness or utter contempt for females all together.

  “Look,” he said, “I’d like to start over.”

  “With what?”

  “We got off on the wrong foot somehow. From the day we met I felt a weird…I dunno…tension?”

  Was that what he called it? Tension. Ha. She turned away, as much to escape how male and delicious he smelled. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

  He followed her inside. “I think you do. That first day in Mexico there was a connection between us.”

  Oh, damn it. She didn’t want him to acknowled
ge that. Admit it, feel it, and certainly not act on it. Now she understood he’d experienced the same pull toward her, part of her wanted to scamper into the nearest hideaway where he couldn’t locate her.

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s mighty presumptuous of you, don’t you think? I’m not sure I believe in mind reading.”

  He shrugged and came in close. Funny thing was, she didn’t move away even though he left scant room between them. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to see that you’re skittish around me. I’d like to know why. Are you scared of me?”

  “What?” She made a scoffing noise. “Of course not. Why should I be?”

  “No reason at all. You know I’m in the business of protecting people, not hurting them.”

  “You’re a soldier. You have to hurt some people some of the time.”

  He leaned one hand on the back of the chair next to him. “In war. When I went to Mexico with Captain Wallace, we planned a direct action to look for his girlfriend and everyone else on your missing tour bus. I did that to help him, and to help you. The only hurting would have happened if you’d been in immediate danger and we had to take on the enemy. And hurt would be a mild word for what we would have done to the assholes who blew up the museum and raided your bus.”

  Her lips twitched in a half smile at the same time guilt replaced a smidgen of her defensiveness. “I know. I never did thank you, did I?”

  She placed her glasses on the table in front of her, then stepped nearer to him. Slipping her hand behind his head, she drew him down toward her.

  She bussed his right cheek with a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

  As she drew back his eyes narrowed, darkening and heating from within. She didn’t have a chance to move away before his arms slipped around her waist.

  He tilted his head just right and then his lips molded sensuously to hers. Marisa made a soft, surprised sound in her throat. She could have pulled back. She didn’t. For a moment, as his mouth tasted hers with exquisite delicacy, she thought the kiss would explode into a far hotter encounter. Yet he held her with gentleness she didn’t expect. His fingers splayed over her back, his mouth moving slowly along her lips as she responded. Emotions rose inside Marisa. Surprise not only at her own assertiveness, but his tentative kiss. They’d reversed roles in her mind, and it scared the hell out of her. The tender kiss broke up in a flash. Almost as if it had never happened.

  Jake stared down at her, his gaze aflame, and then she knew he held back. Oh, yes. He wanted more. So much more.

  This time his mouth came down on hers with clear hunger, twisting one way and then the other. Her arms slipped around his neck as she abandoned herself to sensations she hadn’t imagined experiencing again. As his lips glided in wonderful, heart-stealing finesse, she trembled. Her mouth clung to his, yet he kept the kiss a bit chaste, a far cry from the furious passion she somehow knew he possessed. Even his hands didn’t wander or caress. She wavered on the edge of a powerful seduction, knowing that if she did one more thing, pushed him too far, he’d show her just how crazy he could make a woman. Instead, she drew back, staring up into his lambent eyes.

  She shook like a leaf, and the power of his embrace stunned her into silence. Good Lord. She’d never, never melted into a man’s arms like that. Never experienced a kiss that awe-inspiring.

  His arms immediately slipped from around her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She grabbed her glasses, put them on, and retreated to behind her uncle’s desk. “I kissed you.”

  He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder. “On the cheek. I took it further the second time. And the third time.”

  She smirked. “Okay, so we’re both guilty.”

  He turned and started out the doorway. “It won’t happen again.”

  Disappointment wended an inevitable path through her. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell my uncle.”

  He laughed. “That’s probably a good thing. Remember, he can kick my ass.”

  With that, he disappeared down the hallway and a few moments later she heard the rattling of keys as he entered his new apartment. She groaned softly and flopped into her uncle’s chair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

  God. What was I thinking?

  Chapter Three

  Marisa yawned and stretched as she headed to the basement, water bottle and romance novel in hand. She wanted a strenuous workout and something to destroy this precarious imagination. She could walk the treadmill and read at the same time. Reading took the reality out of panting breath from exertion. Amazing how much exercise she could accomplish while reading.

  And boy did she need the exercise. This morning she’d awakened without a fresh thought in her head. She felt as if a mop had sloshed water through her brain, attempting to clear away cobwebs and accomplishing nothing more than a soggy mess. She blamed it on another damned dream. Two dreams, actually.

  First, she’d dreamed that a dark figure chased her around the bus, and as she ran down the aisle between the seats the bus just got longer and longer and she couldn’t escape. Though she couldn’t see him, somehow she knew the bastard chasing her was Ramon. It chilled her until she woke up shaking. Then she’d had a totally different dream, this one about Jake making love to her. At least she thought it was Jake, since she couldn’t see his face either. But she knew his embrace, the way his arms held her and the strength that made her feel so damned safe.

  God, daydreaming and obsessing about Jake had wrecked her composure and turned her into a muddled woman she didn’t want to be. Thinking too much about his touch, the silky, wonderful heat of his thick cock pushing deep into her body…oh, fuck. The dream was all too much. Too hot. Too stingingly real. She shrugged off the mind games her dreams had played with her. She’d awakened exhausted and aroused. She’d wished for Jake there to help her bleed off the sexual pressure.

  The basement door creaked as she opened it, and immediately the clank of exercise equipment stopped her in her tracks just inside the door. She hadn’t expected Jake to work out down here—but obviously her uncle had given him permission. Clarksville had only a couple of gyms, but she didn’t suppose Jake would want to travel all the way across town when he could take a few steps downstairs and enjoy the benefits of sweat so nearby. She couldn’t expect him to venture blocks for exercise when she certainly didn’t. Still, she resented his presence. She’d gotten so used to heading in here every morning for the last week to find endorphin bliss. Nothing and no one got in her way, and she found contentment in that. But now he was here, and his presence assured she’d be aware of him as a man rather than a co-worker—she wanted to be sloppy in her baggy gray sweat pants, her hair scraped back into an uncouth ponytail and her T-shirt two sizes too large. And God, she really did need to get her glasses fixed. Hell, no. He’d be here to judge her, and she really, really shouldn’t give a damn.

  Marisa Clyde didn’t primp for any man.

  Face up to it or forget it, Marisa. You’re a mess and you don’t give a damn. She tried a grin but it didn’t surface, drowned beneath the weight of what happened in her dreams last night. Without a doubt, her dream about Jake showed her what she longed for, or they showed her what she feared. Damned if she could guess which one.

  Still, she didn’t want to see him. As she stood like a dimwit in the doorway, she blew out a breath. Good thing he couldn’t see her from this angle.

  “Hello?” his deep voice asked.

  Damn. The door creaked way too much. Or he had some super sensitive Special Forces trained ears.

  “It’s Marisa,” she said, aware how bored she sounded.

  That’s the ticket. Cultivate inane and boring. He’ll regret crawling into my dreams last night.

  “Hey, come on in.”

  She wrinkled her nose. As if she wouldn’t come in. This was her uncle’s establishment. Not Jake’s. Damn him for managing to own all the space he stood within, for taking her air. From the moment Jake walked in Dexter’s he’d exuded c
ommand and an air of expectancy. That, too, made her edgy.

  She ventured down the hallway, around the corner, and straight into the doorway leading to the workout room. Jake sat on a weight lifting bench, and the sight of him wearing nothing but grey sweat workout shorts and athletic shoes made her grind to a halt. Every time she saw him, it resulted in the same manic reaction—she wanted him, plain and simple.

  As he pushed up the weight bar, time slowed down. She saw everything about him and her body heated. His pecs clenched, his washboard stomach muscles tightened, his biceps delineated as his hands tightened on the bar and forced the weight upward and into submission. Sweat beaded on the hair that sprinkled enticingly over his chest and down until it disappeared into his waistband. Her gaze followed the forbidden path, examining him in a rough, appreciative fashion. Concentration turned his normally hard face into a flexible, tortured determination. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. Good Lord. When this man worked out, he worked out. With a groan he allowed the weight bar to glide back into place. This was why he was so delicious. He worked for it.

  No man deserved to possess that many hormones.

  “Hey, Marisa. How’s it going?” He reached for a towel he’d thrown at the foot of the weight bench. As he wiped at his face and neck, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked up again. “You okay?”

  “Um, yeah. I just didn’t expect to see you down here.”

  One of his eyebrows twitched. “Dexter gave me permission. Gotta keep in shape. Just because I’m on vacation doesn’t mean there’s room to slack.”

  “I see that.”

  Was it hot in here? Then her brains left the building as she pulled her sweatshirt off with one slow slide. She tossed it onto the arm of the treadmill. His gaze latched onto her exercise bra and caressed her torso with heated male appreciation.