* * *
Two
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Zack watched her stalk around the small room, phone in hand, muttering a string of complaints to whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the line.
She was hopping mad.
And damn, she looked good.
He smiled to himself. Slitting his eyes as a defense against the morning sunlight flooding the room, he admired the woman who was somehow more than he'd expected. Who would have thought a fish geek would be so nicely put together?
Her sky-blue, V-necked shirt clung to her small, high breasts like a lover's hands. Her long legs were hidden from him in a pair of khaki-colored drawstring pants that dipped beneath her belly button, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, tanned skin. Her long, straight, midnight-black hair was gathered into a ponytail that swung in a wide arc across her back as she marched furiously around the room.
"I don't care if he's in a meeting," she said, louder now. "I want to speak to my father, now." A pause, then, "Fine. I'll hold."
"Won't work," Zack muttered and she flipped him a quick look.
"What won't?"
"Getting rid of me." When her frown deepened and her big, grass-green eyes narrowed on him, Zack almost chuckled. Damn, she got prettier the madder she got. And he was just ornery enough to enjoy the show. "I tried to get out of this, but no way."
"You tried?"
Another dry chuckle sounded from his throat. "You think this is my idea of a good time?"
Thoughtful, she cupped one hand over the mouth of the phone. "Why'd you agree to it?"
"Long story." He folded his hands atop his abdomen and drummed his fingers. Zack wasn't going to get into the whole sad tale about his too-many-to-count futile stands against authority. It was none of her business and besides, he didn't want to think about it. "Let's just say it beat the hell out of the alternative."
"Must have been some alternative."
"Trust me."
"That's the point here," she said. "I don't."
"Bottom line," Zack said, fatigue dragging at him, "I go against this order, and I kiss my commission goodbye. I'm not willing to do that."
"Fine." Clearly coming to a decision, she hung up the phone then turned to face him. Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she hitched one nicely rounded hip higher than the other and tapped her bare toes against the rag rug. "If this is going to work, I think we should come up with some ground rules."
"Yeah?" Zack smiled. Couldn't help it. Her small, wire-framed glasses glinted in the sunlight and her full lips thinned into what she probably considered a firm line. Black eyebrows were arched high on her forehead and her glasses slipped a bit down her small, straight nose. Not exactly the intimidating picture she was no doubt hoping for.
"Shoot."
"Don't tempt me."
He snorted a laugh. "Damned if I couldn't start to like you."
"Why, my little heart's just fluttering."
He grinned.
She almost smiled back and Zack felt a solid but invisible punch in his midsection. Damn, the fish geek had some secret weapons other than that trim, compact body.
"Okay, here's my suggestion," she said.
Zack waited.
"I'll put up with you and you can fulfill your orders to protect me during the day…"
"And?"
"And at night, you'll go away."
"Tempting, but no deal."
She threw both hands up and let them slap against her thighs. "Why not?"
"Because," he said, pushing himself up from the chair that was way too comfortable for a man as sleep-deprived as he was. "My orders say I stick to you like a stamp on a letter for the next month. That's what I'm gonna do."
"It's not necessary."
"And if you were an admiral," Zack told her, "I'd take your word for it."
She practically vibrated with impatience. "Surely you can see this house is too small for two people."
"It's a little … cozy." He'd dug foxholes with more maneuvering room.
"It's not even a real two-bedroom. It's a one-bedroom house that somebody broke up into two rooms with a few two-by-fours and a couple of sheets of plywood."
"Your point?"
"There's no room for you."
"The couch'll do me."
"It won't do for me."
"You don't get a vote."
"How do I not get a vote?" she echoed and he could actually see the fury mounting in her eyes. "This is my house."
"And I'm your guest."
She fumed silently for a long minute and Zack wondered if she was planning to make a break for it. But he didn't think so. She seemed too stubborn for a surrender.
He was right.
"I don't take orders well."
He smiled. "Me, neither. We'll probably make a good team."
"I doubt it."
Zack studied her for a long minute, until he had the satisfaction of seeing her shift uncomfortably. He was willing to make nice—but he'd be damned if he'd be stonewalled by some scientist.
"Doctor Danforth, I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here."
"Then—"
"It doesn't change the fact that I am here. And here I stay until my superior orders me to get out."
* * *
Kim tiptoed through the dark house, grateful that she'd had her floorboards treated six months before. They didn't squeak anymore, so her progress through the tiny house was absolutely silent.
Careful not to breathe too heavily, she clutched her house keys tightly in one fist so they wouldn't rattle together. A sly smile curved her mouth and she hugged her deception to her. It was almost fun, she thought. Putting one over on the mighty SEAL who'd been assigned to watch her every move.
She hadn't had fun in a very long time, and if it wasn't necessary to be quiet, she might have given in to the urge to chuckle. After all, to anyone looking in through a window, she would have appeared ridiculous. Sneaking through her own house like a burglar.
Inching past the door leading to the tiny second bedroom she used as an office—and for now, a makeshift guest room for the invader—her heart slowed to a more reasonable beat. As she stepped quietly around the hall corner leading to the living room, it occurred to her that she'd never sneaked before in her life.
Girls at her private high school used to talk about slipping out of their houses to meet boys. And then having to slip back in before dawn to avoid both parents and servants. But Kim had never done it herself. She'd always been the "good" one. The obedient one. The respectful one.
The boring one, she thought now.
Shaking her head, she gritted her teeth and pushed those old memories to the back of her mind. No point in reliving them now, for heaven's sake. Besides, Johnny-come-lately or not, she was finally doing a little sneaking. Even if it was out of her own house.
Moonlight slid through the white curtains at the windows and lay like God's nightlight over the room. Eyes accustomed to the dim lighting and so familiar with her own house she could have walked through it blindfolded, Kim headed for the front door. Carefully, she turned the deadbolt until it snapped clear with an audible click.
She winced at the sound and held her breath, waiting.
When she didn't hear anything, she smiled to herself again and closed her fingers over the cold brass knob. Slowly, she turned it and the soft sigh of the door coming away from the jamb sounded like a shriek to her anxious ears. But again, there was no sound from her guard dog. Another step or two and she'd be clear. She could go about her nightly routine without worrying about being followed. Without having to put up with a man she didn't want or need in her life.
Kim eased through the doorway, pushed the screen door open, then stepped onto the porch. She turned around and relocked the deadbolt with a nearly silent snick of sound. After all, she didn't want to leave the guard dog unprotected.
Pleased with herself, she eased the screen door closed, turned around—and crashed into a broad
, hard chest.
* * *
Her screech, set at a level only dogs should have been able to hear, rattled Zack's brain and, he was pretty sure, made his ears bleed. Before he could check, though, she recovered.
Lifting her right leg, she slammed her heel down onto his instep. While the dazzling pain of that move was still fresh, she whirled and rammed her elbow into his midsection. Surprise, added to the blow, had all of his air leaving him in a rush.
Stunned, Zack tried to figure out how a fish geek had gotten the drop on him.
But as she moved again, lightning fast, his own survival instincts kicked in—just in time to save his esophagus from being speared by her rigid fingers.
Zack grabbed her wrist and held on. "Damn it, Doc, it's me."
She fought against his grasp, tugging and pulling until slowly, she eased off and he knew his words had gotten through. She stared up at him, and he saw her pulse pounding raggedly at the base of her neck. Breath rushed in and out of her lungs and her wide green eyes looked huge in the moonlight.
"You?" One word, strangled out from a throat obviously still tight with fear.
"Yeah, so cool your jets, huh?"
"Cool my…" She sucked in air, then drew her free hand back and jammed her closed fist into his abdomen.
This time though, he'd been ready for the attack. Tensing his muscles, he felt her blow glance off his body like a rock off the still surface of a lake.
"Hit me again," he muttered as he grabbed her other wrist, "and I just might hit you back, darlin'."
"Don't call me darlin'."
"Don't hit me."
She kicked him.
He winced. Shouldn't have challenged her, he thought wearily. "Fine," he admitted. "So I won't hit you back." Still holding on to her, he eased back far enough that kicking him would take some real effort. "But I will tie you to a chair."
She ignored that and wriggled in his grip like a worm trying to escape the hook.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said, her words coming fast and furious. Fear still stained her voice and smeared the air between them. "You scared me to death."
"I didn't mean to. I only meant to stop you."
"Well, you did both. Happy now?"
He grinned down at her. Scared or not, she'd done all right. Way better than he'd expected. And standing here in the dark, watching her breasts rise and fall with her rapid breathing, was giving him a few ideas about seeing if other things about the fish geek would be better than he'd expected, too.
"Fight pretty good for a corpse," he said.
She blew out a breath. "That's not funny."
"Not a lot of laughs from where I'm standing, either," he said, releasing one of her wrists to rub one palm over his stomach.
She caught the action. "Did I hurt you?"
Let's see, he thought. A one-hundred-twenty-pound female throws a lucky punch and actually hurts him? Not a chance. But damn, she looked so hopeful, he heard himself say, "Yeah."
"Good." She yanked her other hand free and rubbed at her wrist long enough to make Zack worry that he'd hurt her.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine." She stepped a wide path around him, then turned her head back to level a long look at him. "What I want to know is what are you doing out here?"
"Waiting for you."
Her eyes narrowed on him.
"You heard me?"
He'd been awake and alert from the moment she started moving around in her room. Her attempt at "stealthy" wasn't all that great. Of course, maybe it would have worked on some regular guy who didn't always have one ear cocked and ready for the sound of a threat coming out of nowhere.
For Zack though, waking from a dead sleep to red-alert status was nothing new. He'd been trained to sleep with one eye open. And that ability had saved his ass on more than one occasion. Once he'd gotten used to the night sounds of her house, her neighborhood, the small, subtle sounds coming from her room had told him she was on the move.
He hadn't figured her for the type to try an escape in the dead of night. He'd looked at her wire-rimmed glasses and trim, tight figure and the stacks of books she surrounded herself with and told himself she'd be no trouble at all.
Which only went to prove that it was possible to surprise a SEAL.
"Yeah, I heard you." No point in telling her that he'd slipped out the window in his room, scooted around the edge of the house and waited on the front porch while she made her escape. The evidence was here in front of her. Besides, if he told her what not to do, she'd only use it against him at another time.
He was beginning to see that riding herd on Kim Danforth wasn't going to be the walk in the park that he'd expected.
"You must have ears like a bat," she muttered and went down the front steps without another look at him.
"I heard that well enough." He was just a step behind her. Far enough back not to crowd her, but close enough that he got a real good view of her excellent behind. She wore black jeans and a black jacket over a black sweatshirt. Her midnight-colored hair was coiled into a tight knot at the back of her neck.
Zack's night vision was good enough to notice just how well those jeans fit her. And his imagination was good enough to picture everything that was hidden beneath the too-bulky jacket and sweatshirt.
"Any particular reason you're dressed like a burglar?" he asked conversationally as he kept just a step or two behind her.
"You've discovered my secret life," she said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I'm a cat burglar."
He grinned and shook his head. "Then you can answer a question for me. I've always wondered why somebody would go to all the trouble to break into a house just to steal a cat."
She stopped, looked back at him and smirked. "I had no idea SEALs were such comedians."
"See? Learn something new every day."
"Then since your lesson plan is concluded, go away."
"Nope." Zack's long legs closed the distance between them quickly and he fell into step beside her. "Where you go, I go."
"I don't want you."
"I don't care."
She stopped under a streetlight and glared up at him. And damned if Zack wasn't starting to like the look of those green eyes firing sparks at him.
"You don't seem to understand," she said and her voice adopted the standard professor's this-is-a-lecture-pay-close-attention tone that used to put him to sleep at the Naval Academy. "I don't need you here. I don't want you here."
Zack stared down into those eyes and then let his gaze move over her features. Her cool, creamy skin gleamed like porcelain in the pale wash of the streetlight. She looked a damn sight better than he'd expected a scientist to look. And she was more stubborn than he'd been prepared for. Not to mention she had a real nasty, sharp-edged tongue on her when her temper was on the boil. She was sneaky, underhanded and a dirty fighter.
Add all of that to great legs, an excellent behind and a pair of small, high breasts that he was itching to cup, and you had a hell of a package.
"Doc," he said when he could tell by the tightening of her lips that she was on the edge of temper again, "you don't have a say in this."
"But—"
"Now." He cut her off, dropped one arm around her shoulders and started walking in the direction she'd been headed a minute or so before. "We can stand here and argue, or we can keep walking and argue as we go. What'll it be?"
She pushed his arm off her shoulders. "I can walk and talk at the same time. You sure you're up to the challenge?"
"Damned if I'm not getting real fond of you, darlin'."
* * *
Three
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Kim completely ignored the still-sizzling sensation of heat that was rocketing through her body. She'd pushed his arm off almost instantly, and yet, despite the cold night air, her skin hummed and her blood was bubbling in her veins.
She couldn't even remember the last time a man had had that sort of effect on her. In fact, she was prett
y sure it had never happened before.
This was probably not a good sign.
He walked beside her, his long, jeans-clad legs moving in time with hers. She felt him watching her from the corner of his eye and in response, she kept her own gaze locked straight ahead. She wouldn't let him know that he was getting to her.
"So where're we going?" he asked.
"I'm going to the riverfront. I have no idea where you're going."
"Wherever you go, sweetheart. Just consider me your shadow."
She glanced at him, then away again. "Shadows are quiet."
"I can do quiet, but what's the point?" He shrugged and she caught the movement from the corner of her eye. "We're stuck together, peaches. So we may as well be friendly."
Friendly? He wasn't her friend. Kim didn't have many of those and the ones she did have weren't six foot tall, gorgeous, greeny-blue-eyed guard dogs. And they certainly didn't set her blood boiling with a simple touch. In fact, she didn't have any male friends. Strange, now that she thought about it, but true. She'd never been the kind of woman men paid attention to.
She'd been the studious one. The one with straight As. The one who, when she was at college, spent her Friday nights at the library instead of attending frat parties. Maybe it was having grown up with four older brothers, she thought.
They'd been great, but with the Danforth brothers standing between her and boys, there hadn't been many willing to risk running the gauntlet. As a teenager, she'd hoped for a boyfriend, but had finally settled for the Principal's Honor Roll. When that situation continued through college, she'd slipped into the rut she found herself in now. No real life. Just her job. She was thankful it was one she loved … but that didn't change the whole lack-of-a-life thing.
But she was better off than some of the women she knew. Working on their third or fourth husbands, fighting custody battles and going to spas to maintain the figures they hoped would win them another trip down the aisle.
She didn't envy them the lawyers and hard feelings and bitter divorce settlements. Kim was still enough of a closet romantic to believe that marriage should last forever. Which probably explained why she was still single.
"Look," she said, coming at the current problem as she did everything else in her world, with calm logic. "I have things to do. I don't need an escort or a guard. I don't want your company and I'm not your friend. So why don't you go back to the house and wait for me?"
Man Beneath the Uniform Page 2