Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  But she thought she knew what might be.

  Harper smiled. A slow, delighted smile filled with an awareness she’d thought she’d long forgotten.

  “I’ve got something a lot more interesting in mind other than work,” she murmured.

  Something very interesting.

  It involved her temporary neighbor, and that sexy body of his. She’d spent a lot of time over the last week thinking about Diego. Fantasizing about his body. Those fantasies had offered distraction from her middle-of-the-night worries about Nathan going to camp and thoughts of her past. Without even realizing it, Diego had helped her get over some of her lingering concerns that Brandon had messed her up.

  Why not let him help her get over the rest of those concerns? Why not go all the way?

  “Harper?” Andi prompted, drawing the name out in a warning tone.

  “I thought I’d get to know Diego a little better and see if we have anything in common besides a fence line. You know, flirt a little.”

  Her body warmed at the memory of the heat she’d felt each time she’d flirted with Diego. That day over cookies. Once or twice when he’d hung out with Nathan. The man had a way of making her feel special. He had a way of looking at her that brought to mind all sorts of options for cork popping, to use Andi’s phrase.

  “You’re saying you plan to green-light your sexy neighbor? A man that you admitted gave you the tingles?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  As Andi processed that, probably deciding whether challenging the blatant lie would push Harper to actually go through with it or if it’d make her run, screaming in terror, Harper pulled into her housing complex. She waited for the gate to rise, waving to the watchman as she drove on.

  Harper swallowed hard to get past the knot in her throat. He would make the perfect distraction, though, wouldn’t he? And the perfect way to prove to Andi—and more important, to herself—that she wasn’t letting her experience with Brandon rule her life. The idea was big enough, scary enough and potentially exciting enough to keep her mind too occupied to miss her son more than, oh, twenty or thirty times a day.

  What more could a single mother ask for?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “TARGET APPROACHING.” LANSKY’S warning shot through the comm in Diego’s ear, the urgency as loud and clear as if it were right there smacking on his shoulder.

  Diego’s eyes skipped to the clock on the wall. Had he lost time digging through Harper’s undies? Nope. He should still have a good two hours.

  “Verify,” he ordered.

  “Gate watchman logged her license plate in, verified she’s the driver. Target approaching,” Lansky repeated, irritation clear in his tone. “ETA two minutes.”

  Even as his body tightened in response, his mind detailing the exits, hiding places and remainder of the house to search, Diego continued his meticulous, page-by-page examination of the leather-bound photo album he’d pulled off Harper’s bedroom shelf.

  Not a single shot of Ramsey, no photos taken outside the country, hell, there weren’t even any pictures that appeared to be taken outside the great state of California.

  What the hell?

  Less than a dozen shots of Harper pre-Nathan. A couple were obviously school photos, with their generic blue backdrop. She’d been a cute kid, a gorgeous teen. Where were the prom pictures, though? Hell, even he’d had one of those. Where were the big group family shots? He’d come across a handful of Harper with an older woman, the resemblance strong despite the worn, exhausted air of the woman in the pictures. But no grandparents, no cousins, nothing. Unless she’d burned the rest, the photo log of Harper’s life really kicked off at Nathan’s birth.

  Diego carefully replaced the album, checking the room to make sure he’d returned everything to its place.

  “You out?” Lansky asked.

  “On my way.”

  Attuned to it, Diego caught the soft purr of a car humming up the street and knew his time was done.

  “Engage or avoid?” Lansky asked, not even trying to hide the taunt as Diego headed down the stairs.

  “Kiss ass.” Diego disengaged, removed the comm and tucked it into his belt. He checked the belt’s pockets, ensured nothing was showing and continued through the kitchen and out the back. He closed the door behind him, making sure the lock snicked shut.

  Glancing at the backyard of his pseudo-bunker, Diego debated. Since hiding had never been his style, he angled around the side of the house and timed it so he stepped onto his porch as she was focused on turning off her engine.

  When Harper looked up, he knew it appeared as if he’d just stepped out of the house. Despite Lansky’s suggestion, Diego didn’t figure cornering the woman with threats was going to net them much intel, but he did have a job to do.

  She was supposed to have taken Nathan to camp. To have gotten him out of the house, away from Santa Barbara for two weeks. The drop-off and goodbye was slated to take four hours, so why was she back so early?

  Had Ramsey played into it?

  Damn Lansky for putting doubts in Diego’s head.

  Doubts that were only exacerbated when Diego saw the look that flashed over Harper’s face when she caught sight of him. Keys in hand, one sleek leg out of the car, Harper froze. And damned if that wasn’t guilt and—Diego narrowed his eyes—desire? Was that desire?

  Her gaze didn’t leave his as Harper slid from the car; she looked as if she were debating the idea of running as fast as those spiky shoes of hers would carry her. Adapt and blend, he told himself, slowing his pace and trying for an innocuous smile. Innocuous would work until he figured out why the guilt and how hot the desire.

  “Hey, Harper,” he greeted, wandering over. “How’s it going?”

  She sure had a way of wearing clothes. What he’d taken for a skirt was actually shorts that ended just above sexy knees. Black and cuffed, the narrow tan stripes matched the jacket draped over her arm. Tucked into a woven black leather belt was a silky-looking tank top the color of ripe raspberries that skimmed over full breasts. Other than the do-me heels, there was nothing that could be called sexy about her outfit.

  He was turned on anyway, just looking at her.

  He was close enough to see those pretty eyes. Huge, blue and heavily lashed, they reminded him of a stormy sky. Quite a contrast to hair the color of burnished gold and creamy smooth skin. It didn’t look as if she was wearing lipstick, so he figured her pouty lips really were the color of roses.

  “Hey, Diego.” She moved quickly to the back of her car. He appreciated the view as she bent into the trunk, then straightened with a couple of big books in her arms. Books angled protectively against her chest, she smiled.

  That smile sent a thrill of something through Diego that he’d never felt before. He’d seen a lot of action in his time, most of it military, plenty of it sexual. He’d felt plenty of things, but that smile?

  That smile made him nervous.

  “I was hoping I’d see you,” she said, shifting the books in her arms, her fingers playing with the strap of her purse before she slung it over her shoulder.

  It wasn’t guilt he saw on her face, he realized, leaning his hip against the back fender as he studied her carefully.

  It was nerves.

  Why?

  “You’re back early,” he noted. When her eyes flashed, he answered before she could ask the question. “Nathan figured you wouldn’t be done settling him in until one or two.”

  “Apparently the guy who runs the Seafarers Camp is a tight ass with a scheduling fetish. He doesn’t like parents ruining their children’s experience by clinging and crying all over the campers.” She rolled her eyes. “He gave an annoying lecture on independence and emotional maturity the minute we got off the ferry. By the time he was finished, Nathan was practically begging me to g
o home so I didn’t make him look like a baby in front of all his new friends.”

  She blinked her damp eyes. Then she gave Diego a searching look that said she was desperate for reassurance. He had no idea what that feeling was in his chest, but he didn’t like the melting sensation or tug of responsibility that came with it.

  “I did the right thing, didn’t I? Letting him go to camp, not staying until they kicked me out?” She sniffed. “Coming home instead of pitching a tent in the woods where I could watch in secret?”

  “You did a good thing,” Diego said with a laugh, appreciating the way she joked instead of giving in to the pain she obviously felt.

  “Thanks.” Her fingers pleated and unpleated the leather strap, her lips pursed as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out how.

  “Were you on your way to somewhere?” she finally asked.

  That wasn’t what she wanted to know.

  “Nope.” Diego shoved his hands into his pockets. And waited.

  It was his experience that waiting made people nervous. He liked the idea of making Harper Maclean nervous.

  At ten seconds she had a small line forming between her brows.

  At twenty she shifted from one foot to the other, glanced toward her house, then back at his and bit her lip.

  At thirty Diego bit back a smile as that line between her brows slid into a full-fledged frown and her foot was tapping out a beat in those sexy heels.

  “Do you have plans then, or were you just standing around out here?” Her gaze traveled from his face to his porch, then back again. “Or were you waiting for someone?”

  “Could be I was waiting for you,” he admitted in a low tone, wondering if that’d make her turn and run.

  It didn’t.

  “Is that so?”

  “It is, indeed.”

  He moved in a little, crowding her body with his. He liked her there, within touching distance. He liked seeing the pulse race in her throat, liked hearing her breath catch with a little shake. He expected her to look horrified, or maybe even irritated. But all he was seeing were those nerves.

  Because of Ramsey? Or something else?

  “Problem?”

  “No. I guess I’m just wondering what you’re planning to do now that I’m here.”

  “Is that what you’re wondering?”

  He was usually aces at reading women, but this one was a mystery. He couldn’t tell if she was sending mixed signals or if he was picking up what he wanted to see.

  He shot out a breath as his fingers closed around hers. It was like grabbing a live wire.

  Sparks. Heat. Such a charge, his whole body came to attention.

  Her skin was silky soft, her bones delicate enough to feel fragile in his grip. Her fingernails pressed lightly into his palm, and he wondered how they’d feel if she used them during sex.

  Was she wild?

  If the heat sparking between their bodies was any indication, she had enough wild in her to handle his every fantasy.

  Wanting more, interested in seeing how she’d react, he stepped closer. Her eyes widened. She tried to pull her hand from his, but he wasn’t ready to let go. He rubbed his thumb along her wrist.

  She stopped tugging as her breath caught. He could feel her pulse jump as her hand trembled in his. He liked how responsive she was. Oh, yeah, he liked it a lot. He curled his fingers into her palm, brushing, teasing.

  She dropped her books on his feet. They bounced harmlessly off his leather boots, but he still blinked in surprise at their weight.

  “I’m so sorry.” She pulled her hand from his and bent down. The move sent her purse swinging off her shoulder so it hit the ground, too.

  When Diego kneeled down to help, she jerked to the side, as if to avoid him touching her again. That caused her sunglasses to fly off the top of her head.

  “Oh, my God,” she muttered, sounding exasperated as he started stacking book on top of book. They were surprisingly heavy, he realized, glancing at one of the oversize hardcovers. He flipped it open to see little pieces of fabric arranged like a waterfall on each page.

  Before he could ask, she slipped the book out of his hands.

  “I’ve got them,” she said, her words a little too breathless to be insistent.

  “Just trying to help.” He left her to it, leaning back on his heels to watch her face.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. Then she rose. “I don’t suppose you could help me with the rest of these?”

  Diego followed her gesture to see another pile of books in her trunk.

  She was asking him if he’d do more than carry her books.

  He’d been around the block with women too many times to not hear that; his instincts were too finely honed to not realize that.

  God, first nervous, now hesitant?

  She was making him feel all kinds of crazy things he’d never experienced before. The spikes of desire he was okay with. But nerves and hesitancy? What the hell? He’d never been nervous around a woman, never hesitated to go for what he wanted.

  Diego considered—for a very brief second—making some excuse so he could refuse her offer. But that meant refusing her request for help, and he simply couldn’t do that.

  His reasons were personal and had nothing to do with the mission. So he simply gathered up the stack of books from the trunk, shut it with a slap of metal to metal and tilted his head toward the house.

  “You want these inside?”

  “I do.” She nodded and turned toward the house. “I want them inside.”

  Whew.

  Blinking and wondering if she’d actually meant that as a double entendre, Diego had to take a second before he followed her. Even then, he kept a good couple of feet between them as her long legs ate up the distance to the door. Despite her slender hips, she had one hell of a sweetly curved ass going for her.

  She let him in, gesturing with her head to the arch to the left of the foyer that he knew led to her office. Diego followed, pretending he hadn’t already had a look-see.

  But Harper wasn’t offering a tour. Instead, she dumped her armful of books onto her desk, dropped her purse right next to them, then turned back to face Diego. Her fingers meshed at her waist for a moment before she crossed back to where he stood.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  “Sure.”

  He could see the nerves in those eyes again as she moved closer to take the books from him.

  “I’d love to show you my appreciation with more than just a thank-you,” she offered quietly, her eyes drenched with needs. So many needs that Diego debated turning heel and running.

  Answering those needs would cause all sorts of problems. The kind that started with breathy sighs, then got naked and led to all sorts of complications.

  That didn’t mean he could resist, though.

  “Would you now?” His smile spread, slow and wicked. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking that maybe I could make you something,” she murmured.

  “Like what?”

  The possibilities were very interesting. Could she make him moan? Groan? Come? He was down for all of the above.

  As if reading his mind, Harper’s eyes flashed with something hot. She pressed her lips together as her gaze meandered down to his chest, over his shoulders, then met his eyes again.

  “Dinner. I’ll make you dinner.” She arched one brow. “Tonight. Interested?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’d like to have dinner with you.”

  “Yeah?” She glanced at her watch. “I do have a client call soon. Then I’ll have to run to the store, get a few, um, groceries.” Her lashes fluttered. “Is six too late?”

  For what? Because while her words said groceries, the look in her eyes said some
thing a whole lot tastier.

  “Six is good.” Remembering his mother’s rules for the rare times they ate at anyone’s house, he added, “Can I bring anything?”

  Stupid rule, he realized as soon as the words were out. What was he supposed to do? Hop into his rental kitchen and whip up dessert? Like he’d have a clue.

  “Wine.” Now her smile hinted at plans that went well beyond a friendly dinner.

  Even as the warning bells went off, Diego’s body responded. Because, damn, she was pure temptation. Trying to shake it off, he calculated the time it’d take to grab a bottle of vino versus her trip to the grocery store. If he played it right, he could finish his search while she was out.

  “Wine it is. See you at six.”

  Mmm, if looks could purr, the one she was giving him would be humming loud and clear. Sexy invitation and enchanting anticipation, all rolled into a pretty blue gaze.

  “I can’t wait.”

  And suddenly neither could he.

  * * *

  AS EVENINGS WENT, this one was definitely outside Diego’s comfort zone.

  Of course, he was a man more at home eating MREs, heating the field rations over a fire pit in the middle of a freezing cold desert surrounded by men who smelled as if they’d been fighting all day long.

  So a candlelit dinner at a table covered with a midnight-blue cloth served on fine china wasn’t a part of his everyday routine. Throw in simple but perfectly cooked chicken breasts in some sort of herb sauce, rice and, God knows how she made that taste good, broccoli, and Diego was definitely operating blind.

  A gorgeous, sexy woman sitting across from him, looking as if she wanted to cover him in chocolate and start nibbling? That he was familiar with.

  But it was the last expression he’d figured he’d see on Harper Maclean’s face.

  He swirled the wine in his glass while he considered the best course of action. He needed to finish his search. Given his orders and the mission’s directive, he was cleared to use any means necessary to execute the assignment.

  In the past, such means had included killing, destroying or eradicating. Sure, some gave him bad moments from time to time—usually in the middle of the night when his subconscious liked to run replays in the form of nightmares. But he never questioned that the methods were necessary to achieve the objective.