Love, Tussles, and Takedowns (10 page)

The slow smile that simmered across Hudson’s features had her hammering heart rate stopping altogether. That smile right there promised her wicked, wicked things. Things beyond even her imagination, she was sure. He held his hand out to her to help her up. When she stood, he slid the stray tendrils from her ponytail back behind her ear.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and he growled.
Growled.

Most erotic thing ever.

His eyes traveled from her pulse thrumming alongside her neck, up to her lips, and then finally her eyes. “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to forget all the reasons why I’m all wrong for you.” He rubbed a thumb along her lower lip.

That was the moment that she discovered her mouth could in fact operate without the help of her brain. And judging by the low, rough groan from Hudson, it was probably better for her not to try and analyze what she’d just said in response.

She pivoted and headed straight to the locker rooms before her mouth could get her into more and far better trouble.

* * * * *

PURE SELF-DEFENSE. That’s what his warning for Lia had been. A few more seconds of her staring at him with that velvet soft gaze and who knows what his steam-broiled brain would have persuaded him to do.

Hell, every nerve ending in his body was already strung out on the woman. He’d felt her eyes on him like live electrical currents during his stretches a few minutes ago. And like a masochist, he’d let it go on until he could barely breathe.

Then again, everything she did got him to that point. Frighteningly quick. It was in the way she fought, spoke, hell,
breathed.
Not deliberately seductive but entrancing all the same. Wholly reactive. Beyond candid, her responses were usually purely instinctive.

Unbelievably sexy.

“Hey.”

Seeing Lia fresh out of a gym shower with her silky ink-black hair softly air-drying around her face, standing in the hallway outside of the locker rooms waiting for
him
was now officially captured as one of the great-wonders-of-the-world screensavers in his brain.

Then she went and did one of those purely instinctive, wholly reactive things again and reached up to ruffle a few shaggy locks of his wet hair out of his eyes with a smile. And just that quickly, his pulse rate grinded right past second and third gear, to rev hard at fourth.

“I’ve been meaning to cut it,” he said gruffly. Not that she’d asked. But his simple, simple brain was only able to focus on the fact that her fingers were in his hair.

“So this isn’t a
Sons of Anarchy
statement? Or your head’s version of a Girls Gone Wild thing now that you’re out of the military? From buzz cut to no cut?”

Her brain was a strange and fascinating place. “Is that a long, convoluted way of telling me I need a haircut?”

“No,” she gave him a lopsided smile. “I like it. But I was just curious. You’ve spent nearly half your life with close-cropped hair. I’m just surprised that you like your hair like this.”

“I don’t, actually,” he confessed.

“Then why keep it like that?”

Shrugging, he shoved his hand in his hair, still unused to feeling those extra few inches. A normal hair-length for a lot of guys, sure, but for him, it just felt weird. “My PTSD shrink would probably say it’s some kind of mental roadblock I need to overcome as I adjust to civilian life.”

She studied him for a second. “What would
you
say?”

He smirked. “That I don’t have a clue how to cut it since I haven’t had any other kind of haircut for nearly half my life.”

Lia’s eyes sparkled excitedly. “Let me cut it for you. The Spencers have a Collie, a labradoodle, and the cutest sheep dog, and I’ve cut all their fur…err, hair. Cutting your hair would be a cinch.”

“As highly convincing a sales pitch as that is,” he grinned at her dancing expression, “let’s grab some dinner first. I’m not certain I want to make the decision on whether or not you should groom me on an empty stomach.” Looking around, he was surprised to see the hallway completely deserted. “I thought you said you normally eat with the other guys after your workouts.”

“
Normally
I do.” She paused meaningfully, with just the tiniest glimmer of heat. “But they all dug out. Something about not wanting to cock-block.”

He returned with a sage nod. “It
is
written into our guy-code.”

Chuckling, she picked up her gym bag. “So just you and me for dinner then?”

“Sure.” It was always like this with her. Every phone conversation over the past few weeks had been easy, comfortable. The best part of his day. “You got a place in mind?”

“Remember that fusion glass & veggie noodle food truck I told you about? They’re here tonight if you don’t mind eating in the outdoor food court area, which is basically made up of two long, rickety community-style wooden tables with a bunch plastic chairs.”

“Best offer I’ve had all week. Lead the way.” He slipped an arm around her waist without even realizing he was doing it.

And felt her still for just a beat.

Just as he was about to back off and apologize for invading her personal space, she fit herself against his side. Slowly. Almost shyly. Not a snuggle or cuddle per se, but a tentative, content little relaxation of her body against his that was somehow all the sweeter.

God, she was like kryptonite.

All of the superhuman restraint he’d exhibited for the past few weeks were now completely obliterated in her presence.

As they walked over to the circle of food trucks surrounding a cozy little pavilion, Lia pointed to the photo menu in front of the one they were headed toward. Colorful bowls of gem-bright glass noodles garnished with coordinating vegetables julienned noodle-thin, in a dozen HD colors greeted his eyes. After she ordered the day-glow-orange caviar & carrot noodle dish, he ordered the neon green pesto and zucchini one. Then she added on some seasoned short ribs for them to share with a shrugging, “I’m a rabid carnivore,” and stole another little chunk of his heart right then and there.

They grabbed a table and effortlessly slid back into the conversation they’d begun last night before she’d fallen asleep on him over the phone again.

“So yes, my parents were my first kung fu teachers—strictly Southern Wing Chun style, not Northern Shaolin. Some families had a basketball hoop or kicked a soccer ball around out back; we had a traditional Wing Chun wooden dummy in our yard, where we practiced kung-fu every weekend.”

“It’s great that you kept it up all these years.”

Her smile turned down at the corners. “Actually, I stopped for a while after my parents died, but my foster family pushed me to pick it up again later in high school. Then after I graduated, I started studying more MMA styles of fighting.” With a conspiratorial, slightly guilty drop in her voice, she confided, “My foster dad absolutely did
not
want me studying Muay Thai or Krav Maga. So as far as he knows, I don’t.”

“I take it he’s never seen you fight then.”

“Oh, he has. But Caine keeps reassuring him that what he’s seeing is basic self-defense kung fu and a little Kajukenbo, our little catch-all fighting style we use to explain away anything he sees as remotely MMA.”

Hudson smiled. “It must be nice to have someone worry over you like that.”

She looked up at him and caught his expression. “Do you not? Have someone to worry over you?”

“Not blood-related. Not really. Not in the same way.”

“You’d have it if you’d give some of us a chance,”
interrupted a deep voice from behind them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HUDSON DIDN’T NEED to look up from the table to know who it was. His cousin’s voice hadn’t changed much over the years. He sighed. “How’d you find me, Ben?”

“Your lovely actress friend, Fiona, was kind enough to direct me over here.”

Okay, scratch his earlier assessment. Ben
did
sound different. He sounded like he just came back from a day on the yacht after a rigorous morning of polo, just in time to shine his cufflinks for a night at the opera.

See,
this
is what happens when you extract the normal Joe-Schmoes from a guy’s life and leave him surrounded with only the privileged and pretentious. On the other hand, the fact that his cousin was actually wearing jeans—a designer pair though they probably were—gave Hudson a little hope that his influence when they were growing up had permeated a little, despite Ben’s parents’ best efforts.

“You? Consorting with
entertainers
outside of a fundraising event?” Hudson rolled out a truckload of sarcasm in his tsks. “Now what would Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Robert have to say?”

“Luckily for us all, they’re out in the Hamptons for the spring so we won’t have to find out.”

Was that a hint of defiance in his perfect Stepford cousin’s voice? Interesting. Hudson felt the twitch of a smile touch the corner of his mouth. “Lia, this is my cousin, Ben. Ben, this is my…friend, Lia.”

Now it looked like Lia was holding back an amused smile also.

“Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“Likewise,” replied Ben with a commercial-ready grin and one of those fancy two-handed handshakes.

Nope, still a Stepford.
And the charm was positively oozing out of his cousin like stink off a skunk.

Hudson leveled his cousin with a look. “What are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I saw your friend Fiona on set. She remembered me, came over to chat, and directed me here since you haven’t answered any of my calls over the past few months.”

“Not true. I talked to you on the phone two months ago.”

“About your military associate that you referred to me, yes. But you hung up shortly after.”

“I wasn’t a huge fan of the hold music.”

Lia’s lips twitched again.

Okay, so
maybe
he enjoyed mussing up his cousin’s neatly pressed composure a little more than he needed to. It was way too much fun. Case in point… “Hey, and don’t forget that nice congrats note I sent over to your office last month when you won that big medical award.”

“Yes, thank you for the singing telegram.” Ben’s expression was both amused and exasperated. “The nurses were very, errr, appreciative of the delivery man’s rather impressive…stethoscope.”

At that, Lia burst out laughing.

Hudson leaned over and explained the short version to Lia. “Ben here is one of the best in the field of cardiac surgery, a Harvard man, an avid golfer with a near-pro game, the pride of his parents’ eyes, and the shining example to which I was never able to live up to in
my
parents’ eyes.” He looked over at Ben. “Did that just about cover the highlights?”

“I’m also a patron of the arts and fluent in three languages,” retorted Ben without missing a beat.

Despite the intense desire Hudson had to accidentally squirt ketchup on his cousin’s crisp white shirt, he had to smile a little over that.
Looks like the magic beans he’d planted to help Ben grow a mind of his own years ago had taken root after all.

“And unlike my aunt and uncle,” continued Ben, “I’ve never hesitated to tell all my colleagues about my heroic cousin’s service to his country.”

Well, hell.
Rendered speechless by his cousin for the first time in their lives, Hudson wordlessly pulled up a third chair to the table because of course his perfect cousin had been too genteel to sit down uninvited.

A hollered-out order number from the food truck vendor had Lia hopping up quickly, beating Hudson to it. “You two catch up. I’ll go get the food and get some extra bowls and utensils for your cousin.”

When Lia was out of earshot, Hudson turned his attention back to Ben. “If this is about the inheritance, you’re wasting your time. How’d you even know where we were filming? And how’d you get on set?” He was genuinely curious. Seemed a little extreme for his cousin.

“I got in contact with your former commanding officer, who told me where you’re working now. Your boss then got me guest clearance to go on site because, and I quote, ‘He knows what a stubborn ass you are’. Unquote.”

Yeah, that sounded about right.

“That’s when this whirlwind of red hair and over-caffeinated bubbliness came over to find out why I was asking about you. After she got a good look at me, and then proceeded to recall at least three pranks that she’d been involved in helping you pull on me, she told me that you were going to be at a gym in Cactus Creek tonight. From there, I practically didn’t have to ask any questions. The folks here make your friend Fiona seem-laid back on the nosiness scale.”

Lia returned just as Ben confirmed Hudson’s suspicions. “And yes, we need to talk about the inheritance. It’s been six months. Great-Grandfather’s will stipulates that you and I work together to divide up his estate within one year of his death.”

Pivoting quickly after dropping off the food, Lia went off to go get them drinks…from a different food truck on the other side of the pavilion. Criminy, she was cute.

He caught the tail end of some legal details Ben was explaining with a tired sigh. The mere thought of being back at that old mansion again gave him the willies. He’d only gone there once but it would no doubt remind him of all the weekends his parents used to force him to attend society functions when he was younger. It was no wonder he hated wearing suits and gelling his hair. From the year he was able to walk until the age of seven, it seemed all his free time was spent with his hair gelled back and his little suits pressed and buttoned up to his ears.

“Like I keep saying, man, for whatever reason, my father hates your great-granddad. And while he and I don’t see eye to eye on things, if my father is uncomfortable with the man, I’m not going to shove his nose into this whole inheritance thing. So thanks, but no thanks. I trust you. Just divide the estate up however you want and donate my half to charity. I’ll email you a few I donate to regularly, along with some I’ve been wanting to help out.”