Ripped! (8 page)

“Mitch, we both know it was my rash action that stuck you with the calendar assignment.”

“And your point is?”

“I sort of owe you.”

“Baby, you don’t owe me anything. From where I’m sitting, this assignment has worked out just fine for me. I’d already checked out who you were and why you were here, but I’m not sure our paths would’ve crossed again if I hadn’t been given the assignment.”

“Oh, our paths would’ve crossed. I had already quizzed Sanchez about you.” She made a little moue of disapproval. “You’ve got to show more initiative Lieutenant Colonel. I had to kiss you. I was prepared to look you up.” She shook her head. “You really wouldn’t have come looking for me?”

She was teasing but there was a note of seriousness, as well.

Mitch wasn’t going to lie to her. It was his modus operandi and regardless she deserved the truth. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

The truth he didn’t voice, however, was the realization that hit him dead in his gut. He wouldn’t have gone looking for her because Eden Walters scared the hell out of him.

O
UCH, OUCH, AND DOUBLE OUCH
. He wouldn’t have come looking for her. Well…that wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. She’d asked. She’d pushed. And he’d told her.

She put it in perspective. They’d both known this was a three-day affair…which looked as if it might extend to a five-day affair. And now she was going to meet his grandfather. So, while he wouldn’t have come looking for her, well, she’d just have to let that go.

“The assignment sounds really interesting. And it’s not as if I have any work scheduled for the weekend, so it’s not bumping me out of a project,” she said.

“You think it sounds interesting?”

“Of course. It’s living history. I’ve never had an assignment I didn’t find interesting. There’s merit and value in everything all around us. And for me, I get to capture it. Generations from now someone may look at a photo I took and it’ll provide an insight, a glimpse of a time that’s since passed. It’s posterity.” Okay, so she’d gotten a little carried away. “And now
I’ll climb down off of my soapbox.” She tugged the sheet back up.

“I don’t mind your soapbox,” he said, his voice quiet, reflective. “I never thought of what you do in those terms.”

“Lots of people don’t.” Certainly her parents didn’t see it that way. “But that’s okay. It’s just my take on my career.”

“There are two aspects to society. Structure and culture. Without structure, culture can’t thrive.”

There was no judgment in his voice. He was simply throwing it out his opinion. “And without culture, structure can become oppressive,” she countered, her intellect as aroused as her body had been half an hour before. Eden sat up, tucking the sheet around her and Mitch propped himself on the pillow next to her.

And in the moonlit bed, she and Mitch Dugan rambled on about social order, culture, even Sun Tzu’s The Art of War—she wasn’t sure why he was so surprised she was familiar with the sixth century B.C. Chinese military treatise—until past midnight.

And just because they could agree to disagree on certain points—and agreed on far more points than she would’ve imagined—that still didn’t mean Mitch Dugan was the right man for her. No matter how good he was in bed.

Nope. Three days had become five and then it was over. Even great conversation and even greater sex wasn’t going to change that.

“T
HAT’S A WRAP
,” E
DEN SAID
and Mitch silently applauded. McElhaney had been part of the final shoot and the sonofabitch had pissed him off to no end. McElhaney had been coming on to Eden all afternoon. She’d ignored what she could and dismissed the rest. A couple of times Mitch had been tempted to intercede but she’d sent him a
back off
glance and Mitch had to respect that she knew what she was doing.

“How about a drink now that we’re done with business?” McElhaney persisted.

Sorry, buddy, but she’s got plans. We’re going to go at it all night long.

“Thanks, but I have another commitment.”

“What about afterward?” McElhaney’s ego was puncture-proof.

“Let me put this as plain as I know how to put it, Captain McElhaney. I do not want to have dinner, a drink, or even a further conversation with you. I think that should pretty much clear things up for you. Thank you for your time on the calendar.”

“You can’t just dismiss me like that,” McElhaney said, taking a menacing step forward.

Enough was enough. No one talked to Mitch’s woman that way. Mitch stepped between McElhaney and Eden. “She just did. I’d suggest you leave now, McElhaney. Assignment over.”

Reluctantly, McElhaney backed down and left but not without a sneer at both Mitch and Eden. Mitch had a gut feeling that had he not interceded, McElhaney would’ve crossed a line and then his ass would’ve been nailed. But not even for the satisfaction of finally bringing McElhaney down could Mitch allow the asshole to bully Eden.

He turned to her. “I know you were handling it. But he crossed the line and I—”

“It’s fine. Really. I appreciate it. You were right about him. He photographs well, but he’s certainly obnoxious. I’m not sure he’ll make the final cut.”

She’d photographed fourteen candidates with the understanding that she’d choose the best dozen and two would be cut. “I can’t think of a better guy to dump from the project,” Mitch said. “So, this wraps everything up?”

“It’s a wrap. I heard from Sergeant Sanchez earlier today, so I need to swing by their place to do the photos I promised.”

“I could help you out with that, if you wanted me to. I know my way around the base and Fayetteville, and I’m getting to be a pretty damn good assistant, if I do say so myself.”

“A little fine-tuning and I might keep you,” she said
with a teasing smile. And then the words lingered between them and seemed to shift and morph into something deeper and more meaningful. She shifted her weight from one foot to another and took a sudden interest in packing away her camera equipment. They both knew there’d be no “keeping” happening on either side.

“T
HAT’S IT
. P
ERFECT
. L
AST ONE
.” Eden snapped off the picture of Sgt. Sanchez with his daughter, Cassie, riding on his shoulders, Liz laughing and holding the toddler in place. “That’s definitely a keeper.”

Eden couldn’t wait to see that shot printed in black and white. “My assistant, Valerie, can send you a disc next week for you to look at and pick your favorites. Or she could e-mail them, if you’d rather.”

Mitch stood to the side quietly, watching, seemingly at ease. Eden had the sense that he’d actually enjoyed watching the session with the Sanchez family. She was impressed that for a man used to being in charge, he was equally good at stepping aside and letting her do her own thing. That had certainly never been the case with her parents. Brigadier General Max Walters was always in charge of every situation, whether it was his own or not.

Sanchez laughed. “Seeing as how my wife is the e-mail queen—”

Liz cut him off with an elbow to his side. “E-mail would be great. It saves on postage.”

Everyone, even Cassie, laughed as Eden and Mitch moved toward the door. They’d been great subjects to work with because the affection between husband and wife was blatant and their daughter reflected it in spades.

“Thank you again, so much,” Liz said, her warm smile enveloping Eden. “I still can’t believe you’d make the time to come photograph our family.”

“It was my pleasure. And it doesn’t begin to compare to what your family has given.”

Liz reached out and hugged her, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Thank you. Have a safe trip back to New Orleans. You leave tomorrow?”

“Yep. A bright and early flight. I’ll be in touch.”

Behind her Mitch and Sanchez exchanged a quick handshake.

“Nice family,” Mitch said once they were in his truck, backing out of the driveway.

“Very.” She realized that even though she’d been intimate with this man and felt some crazy connection, there was so much about him that she didn’t know. At first, she’d thought that was what she wanted but now she realized she’d been wrong. She was already a little in over her head with him, so at this point, why not? She wanted to know more about the man next to her. “Have you ever been married?”

He slanted a look her way that she found impossible to interpret. “Nope. I guess you could say I’ve committed myself to Uncle Sam. I know there are a lot of
people that make it work, but, it’s hard on a family. Particularly Special Forces.” Covert assignments that meant being incommunicado, heightened danger—it was a tough way for the ones left behind to live.

“So, not even any close calls, huh?”

“What? I’m such a prize you’re amazed no one’s tried to snap me up?” His grin said he was poking fun at himself, another nice trait in Lieutenant Colonel Dugan.

And yes, that was exactly it. He struck her as the ultimate prize in the Cracker Jack box—not that she had any intention of telling him that. “Don’t get carried away.”

“What about you? Any ex-husbands lurking in your background?”

“A few,” she said with a straight face and then cracked up at his startled expression. “Just kidding. I’ve been focused on my career, too. I travel a lot and that can make a relationship difficult. On top of that, I’ve spent a lot of time fixing up my house—it needed a lot of work when I bought it. And there are only so many hours in a day.”

“You should’ve found a handyman—or dated one.”

“It was easier to take do-it-yourself classes at Home Depot.”

There was a momentary pause and then he laughed. He shook his head. “You do call things the way you see them, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t see the point in prevarication. I’m
also a lousy strategist. I suck at chess. Heck, I even lose at checkers on a regular basis.” She looked over at his chiseled profile and it felt as if her heart skipped a few beats. “I bet you’re one heck of a chess player.”

He shrugged and there was a hint of nonchalance about it that struck her as odd. He wasn’t a particularly nonchalant kind of man.

“Just how good are you at chess? Did you ever win any contests?”

“A couple in high school and later in college.”

Hmm. When she had some free time with her laptop she’d be checking that out on Google. But it was obvious he was smart and ambitious. He couldn’t be older than his early thirties and he was already a Lieutenant Colonel. Numerous career men retired out at that rank, but Mitch still had a lot of years left. Her own father hadn’t made Lieutenant Colonel until much later in his career.

“Your job requires a lot of travel?” he said, following up on her earlier comment. He didn’t miss anything.

“My career requires it, but I also like it. I love to discover new places and new experiences. It was the one thing I did like about growing up a military brat.”

“But it was the rules you didn’t like.”

“That and the expectation that my father’s career always took precedence over my mother’s. Actually, my father’s career was my mother’s. Her sole purpose in life became only as a useful accessory to him. Don’t
get me wrong, it’s fine for women who want that lifestyle, but I don’t.”

“I can’t imagine your attitude goes over well with your parents.”

“No. It doesn’t sit well with Brigadier General and Mrs. Walters.” She grinned. “They’re really not quite sure where I came from—I’m definitely not the ordinary product of their gene pool and upbringing. What about you? What do your parents think of your career choice?”

Another shrug that spoke volumes with what it didn’t say. “I’m not close to my parents. We have different lifestyles and expectations. But I’m close to my grandfather and he’s always been supportive.”

Of course he was. He was a military man himself. Eden was curious about Mitch’s parents. Were they the creative sort, like her, who disliked the rigidity of the military? “Are they artists? Pacifists?”

He laughed again, but this time a margin of bitterness laced his tone. “Um, no. They’re pretty much bums. Neither one has ever kept a steady job. They just sort of leeched off of my grandfather for years.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much to say beyond that. It did explain, however, his devotion to his career…and put him that much further off-limits for anything long-term, not that Eden had ever remotely considered him long-term material. “Will they be at your grandfather’s birthday party?”

“It’s not likely, unless they think they can get some
thing out of it. I haven’t mentioned it and I’m sure the old man hasn’t said anything to them. They don’t visit him at his assisted-living center, so I seriously doubt it.” He offered another shrug and a hard smile. “Of course if they hear there’s free food to be had, all bets are off.”

Ouch. Note to self. Don’t bring up his parents again. It was definitely time for a subject change. “You didn’t mention anything about free food. Now I’m definitely sold on the party.”

“It’s man food. Hot wings, French fries, chili and beer.”

“Beer and wings sounds good to me.”

“They’re going to love you. Just one thing…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wear the red heels. You don’t want to give any of them a heart attack.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding. They may be old, but they’re men. Those heels might do them in.” He winked. “But at least they’ll die happy.”

“T
HANK YOU FOR FLYING WITH US
,”
the stewardess said as they stepped off of the plane and into the gateway. Mitch was damn glad to get off. He only liked being on planes if he could jump out of them.

Eden shifted her camera bag on her shoulder and switched her carry-on’s pull handle to her other hand as they entered the Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport. “I like to travel, but it’s always nice to get home.” Actually, the high arched ceiling in the main building with its stained glass always did feel a bit like a homecoming.

“Let me take your suitcase,” Mitch said.

“I’ve got it.”

“I can put it on top of mine and I won’t even know I have it,” he said. She was so damn independent but that was one of the things he liked and admired about her. Just one of many, he’d realized last night when they’d checked her out of her hotel and she’d spent her last night in Fayetteville at his house, in his bed. It had been strange—the entire night he’d had a sense of rightness about her being at his house. There’d been no awkward
ness, just a completeness, as if he’d found the one thing he hadn’t even known he was missing. And how could that be when she couldn’t tolerate the one thing, the only thing that defined who and what he was, the military? Mitch didn’t doubt her sincerity for a moment. She’d been markedly different every time they’d driven off base.

“Okay, if you can carry it, be my guest.”

Mitch made quick work of buckling her suitcase to the top of his.

“Oh, and I get to be on top,” she said with a wicked little smile.

The memory of her on top last night came rushing back between them and Mitch felt the familiar spark of arousal that was always a low burn inside him when she was around. She’d liked being on top. He remembered her initial slow ride up and down his shaft. When she’d picked up the momentum, he could barely breathe because he’d been so centered on her slick, tight channel pistoning up and down on him.

He was not going to walk through the airport with a hard-on. He pushed away the thought of her naked, her breasts swaying over him—or at least he tried to. As usual, his discipline suffered a serious set-back with Eden. “Behave, baby.”

She looked at him and her eyes challenged his admonition, as if to say, “you know you don’t really want me to behave.” And no he didn’t. He liked the uninhibited way she met him, challenged him, engaged him in
the bedroom. Hell, just in general conversation. “At least until we get to your car.”

“Fine. I can behave…until we get to my car.”

Mitch had cancelled his rental car. He and Eden would drive out to Charoux together for the party. Mitch would see the old man back to the assisted-living center, and they’d return to New Orleans and her house later that night. She’d asked him if he wanted to stay over and see his grandfather again in the morning, but he’d passed. The last thing the old man wanted was Mitch hovering. He liked to stay abreast of Mitch’s career and what was going on, but about half a day together every couple of months was all the old man wanted.

She laughed. “I’m driving. You’re safe, at least until we get to my house. And then you still get a reprieve because I have a meeting with Valerie, my assistant,” she said.

“I looked you up online,” he said as they moved through the concourse.

She shot him a swift, surprised look. “You did?”

“Yeah. You’ve done well for yourself.” Her work was featured in several galleries and she ran a small gallery out of her home studio in the French Quarter. Her Mercury photo had been one of the ones featured on her Web page. “I have to say, I don’t personally think I look like Mercury but there’s something very arresting about the picture.”

He wasn’t sure how or why, maybe it was part of her
talent coming through, but it seemed to him that the statue was almost lifelike. It left Mitch almost holding his breath waiting to hear what Mercury had to say.

A delighted smile curved her lips. “That’s so cool. You got it. I wasn’t sure if you would because I work in that realm beyond black and white.”

What the hell? He wasn’t culturally illiterate, well, not to a severe degree. “I got it. All of your work is like that.” It was as if she’d captured the essence, the core of her subjects whether they were living, breathing people or inanimate objects. “I don’t pretend to be an expert but it’s apparent you have immense talent. I didn’t realize how damn lucky the Army was to have you shooting the calendar.”

Again, a stillness he’d sensed once or twice before descended on her, even though they were still moving through the airport. It was more a state of being than a state of action. “Thank you.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your gallery.”

“You can rummage around while Val and I go over stuff. It won’t take long.”

“The meeting or the gallery?”

“Both.” Her smile was like the sun slipping over the horizon in the morning, dazzling, promising. “Did you want to stay in or go out?”

He had no interest in New Orleans nightlife, but he had plenty of interest in making the most of his remaining time with Eden. “I definitely opt for staying in.”

“Good answer. I need to do a little work. I want to
take a look at the calendar shots and the Sanchez family on my good equipment. Val closes the gallery at five and then we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

The hours before they could be alone felt like a lifetime, but he understood she had business to conduct. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Great minds think alike,” she quipped.

Actually, considering their differences, he was surprised to find just how much they did think alike on so many issues.

“Y
OU’RE OFFICIALLY CLOSED FOR
business?” Mitch asked from where he stood studying a black-and-white print of a monk on a hilltop at sunset. It was one of her favorites. Traditionally sunsets were captured in vivid color. But when they were done in black-and-white, all the marvelous shades of gray found in the world came through. There was a tranquility about the photo that soothed her soul. Apparently it spoke to Mitch, as well. She’d watched and noted which photos he spent time with.

“Until Monday at noon.” Eden closed and locked the front door. She’d lived here three years and never invited a man into her home. Granted plenty of people moved in and out of her gallery, but the rest, the private part, had been just that—private. Sacrosanct.

But it had seemed right to invite Mitch Dugan here. Perhaps because it was as if having Mercury in her garden had already paved the way for Mitch in her private space.

Sleeping with him in a hotel room had been one thing. But then things had shifted when she’d been in his house, in his bed. She knew whatever this was between them was about to change here in her sanctuary, the space she’d created, the home that was an extension of herself. It would now bear the imprint of his presence.

She crossed the gallery floor to the interior French doors covered in heavy drapes that separated the gallery from the rest of the house. They stayed locked during the hours the gallery was open. She unlocked them now.

He was still in front of The Monk, as she thought of the photo. “It’s all nice, but I really like this.”

She nodded, a glow of pleasure blooming inside. There was nothing quite like having your artistry appreciated. And while “this is nice” from anyone else might seem almost insipid, nothing about Mitch Dugan was hyperbole, so if he said it was nice, it came through as high praise indeed.

“I like that one a lot, as well.”

“Why black and white instead of color?”

He was discerning, she’d give him that. “Color is beautiful but the shades of black and white make an impact you simply don’t get in the color. It’s the juxtaposition of starkness and complexity.” He’d either really get it or simply think she was weird.

“It works.” He crossed the room slowly, his tread measured, his eyes serious and with each step that he drew closer her heart beat harder and faster until he
reached where she stood in the doorway of the French doors leading from her public gallery to her private space. He lightly cupped her shoulders in his hands. “You are a remarkably talented woman, Eden Walters. Your pictures were great on your Web site, but standing here in front of them…Wow.”

Emotion washed over her, swamped her, drowned her to the point that tears filled her eyes. Embarrassed by her intense vulnerability, she bowed her head.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. I’m not upset. I’m just…It’s…” She didn’t know how to say it because she didn’t even know what
it
was, what was going on with her. “It was a very nice thing to say and it moved me.”

And then it hit her. She understood precisely why his comment had affected her so. She knew Mitch wasn’t exactly like her father, but there were a lot of similarities between them. They were both military men. They both lived and died by structure. And both men were happiest in a world that was black and white.

Her father had always treated her photography as something frivolous. She always had the impression he was waiting for her to grow up and do something important with her life. And yet here was a man with many of the same qualities, only he recognized and lauded her talent.

He smoothed his thumb over her cheek and the tenderness in that simple gesture shook her to her core.

“Show me your house.”

“Didn’t you look around while I was with Val?”

“Not really.” He dipped his head and brushed a butterfly kiss on her lips. “It felt intrusive to look around without you. I’d rather you show me. I’d rather see it through your eyes.”

Her heartbeat seemed to echo throughout her body and she paused. Somehow, somewhere this had gone beyond what had started three days ago at Fort Bragg.

“Okay.” She caught his hand in hers and led him across the threshold separating the two rooms. “This is the place I call home.”

D
USK SETTLED AROUND THEM
, filling the corners of the courtyard with shadows. “This place is definitely you,” Mitch said from the wrought-iron chair next to hers, the fountain next to them soothing and peaceful. Oddly enough, Mitch felt as comfortable here as he did in his own home in Fayetteville. But was it the place or because
she
was here? “Beautiful, fanciful, orderly but a little bohemian.”

“Oh, so you think you’ve pegged me?” Her ever ready smile lit her face. He brushed aside the thought that he could never get tired of seeing her smile.

He tried to keep it light. “My job is to assess people in a very short period of time so I know what I’m dealing with.”

She reached over and traced a faint scar on the back of his hair-smattered hand. “What you’re
dealing with?
”

One touch and he was hers. Then again, hadn’t it been
that way from the get-go? How could he want her so intensely and still find himself laughing? “That was a general term. Not specific to you.” He caught her hand in his and tugged. She obligingly rose and came to him, sinking into his lap. He welcomed the weight of her against his thighs, the intimate press of her buttocks against him, her scent, her warmth, her joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her lips unerringly found his.

He slid his hand up to her hip, mapping, memorizing the terrain of her body. “Let’s go inside,” he murmured against her mouth.

“No. Make love to me here,” she said. She leaned back and tugged her shirt over her head. Reaching behind her, her bra followed. In two deft movements the rest of her clothes followed and she stood naked in the semidarkness before him, offering herself.

And he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, that she was offering something special. This wouldn’t just be sex on an Indian summer night when the cicadas were still competing with the New Orleans nightlife. She was offering
herself
.

And a stronger man, a better man wouldn’t take such a precious gift, but he seemed to have lost himself when it came to her. He stood and silently shed his clothes.

And then in her courtyard he took everything she offered and gave her more than what she’d asked for. But in the end, he wasn’t sure that it was an equitable exchange.