Tempted by a SEAL (4 page)

Her way might work, but he preferred the odds of success by doing things his way.

Now that she’d finally stopped spewing her thanks to him, all for his doing nothing more than offering to walk outside beside her, he said, “It’s no problem. You ready to go?”

She planted her bottle on the bar. “Yeah.”

He shoved the rest of the money forward toward the bartender. “Have a good night.”

Mack wasn’t going to get his free drink tonight, but the guy had earned the generous tip, not only for serving his two drinks, but also for cleaning up the piece of shit Mack had left lying on the floor.
 

“Thanks.” Scooping up the bills, the bartender eyed the girl and then Mack with a knowing expression. “You too.”

Mack rolled his eyes. This was not a hook-up, and he’d set the guy straight next time he was in, but he wasn’t going to do it now in front of the object of the bartender’s erroneous assumption.

Time to blow this place. He shot her a glance. “Come on.”

She scrambled to keep up with him as he strode for the door.
 

Realizing she was probably going to break her ankle in the heels she wore while trying to match his pace as he made his way toward the exit, he slowed down.

At the exit, he turned and paused to wait for her to catch up.

She looked flustered. “I’m just across the street. It’s not far. I won’t take you too far out of your way.”

“No problem.” His lips twitched with amusement that she was worried about taking him out of his way. She had no idea she was probably parked directly in front of his building.
 

A refreshing slap of cool air hit Mack across the face as he pushed through the doorway and stepped outside.

After the heat of the many bodies pressed too closely together inside, it gave him a renewed appreciation for the outdoors. He’d kind of lost that after the past few weeks of trudging through Nigeria.

Never mind the heat, the bugs alone were enough to make him hate that damn forest. Though seeing his teammate Rocky act like a girl around the snakes had been a bright spot.

Pushing the memories away, Mack focused on the here and now. He glanced across the street as they waited for a car to pass so they could safely cross.

Two cars parked on the opposite curb were familiar to him. But next to where he had his bike parked was an unfamiliar car. He’d bet his Harley it belonged to this girl.

A bright green Volkswagen Beetle with a white and yellow daisy painted on the hood seemed about right for this chick.

The sight of the ridiculous car had him torn between rolling his eyes and smiling. He tried to control both impulses, though he supposed the car and it’s paint job were meant to amuse. What other reason would someone have for painting a flower that big on a car?

The road now clear, he reached for Lydia’s elbow to steer her across the street, figuring that was safest. He wasn’t convinced she wasn’t going to fall flat on her face or get her heel stuck in a sewer grate or manhole cover.

He might not be able to sleep, but laying awake in bed was still better than spending the night in a chair in the waiting room of the emergency room waiting for her to get fixed up because he’d let her get hurt.

Nope. No broken ankles here. At least not on his watch.

Of course, he did enjoy how the impractical but sexy as sin shoes gave her a little extra wiggle as she walked. And a bit of extra bounce to her full breasts.

Yanking his eyes off his companion’s assets, Mack focused on his goal—the daisy car. He headed directly for it—like a bee to a flower—and tried not to smile at his own ridiculous joke.

They were almost to the driver’s side door of the vehicle, when she asked, “How did you know this was my car?”

Dropping his hold on her now that they’d reached the car, he glanced down at her. She was tall for a female, especially with the added height of the heels, but he still had a good half a head on her.
 

“Good guess?”

“Oh.” She took another step toward the car—and pitched forward.

Mack’s reflexes kicked in. He reached out and took hold of her elbow again as he grabbed for her other arm with his free hand.

At the same time he turned and stepped in front of her to block her fall. She crashed into his chest, which he figured was better than face-planting in the street.

“Whoa. You all right?” he asked.

She glanced up at him through a fall of dark, wild curls that had fallen across her eyes. “Yeah. I’m just a klutz.”

He smiled. “You’re not a klutz.”

Lydia blew her hair out of her face and he got a better look at her scowl. “Then why did I fall?”

Hearing the annoyance in her tone, he cocked a brow. “Well, it’s dark. The surface of the street is uneven. You were walking in heels that are far too high for you. And you’ve been drinking.”

A crease appeared in her forehead. “What do you mean my heels are too high for me? I can walk just fine in these heels, thank you.”

Of the laundry list of reasons he’d given her, that was the one she’d zeroed in on? Not to mention got offended about.

This girl was proving to be more amusing than he’d ever imagined.

“I suppose you think that only skinny girls are allowed to wear high heels,” she accused, her frown firmly in place.
 

“I never said that.”

“No, but it’s what you meant.”

“Oh, really? So now you know what I’m thinking?” Mack lifted both brows.

“Yes. What you and all guys think.” Her frown was joined by a pout . . . and now he was looking at her lips, full and pouty, just like how he liked them.

He’d like them even better wrapped around a certain part of him . . .

Damn. Bad thought.
 

He realized his hands were still clasped on her arms. “Is your ankle okay?”

She pulled her mouth to one side. “Yes.”

He let his hold drop from her now he was sure she could stand under her own power. She shot him a glare when he figured she would be grateful that he’d saved her from literally falling flat on her face.

“Are you mad at me? Just because I said your heels are too high for you?” he asked the incredulous question figuring he had to be wrong and something else had her pissed.

She folded her arms across her chest. “No. I’m not mad at you.”

He could have accepted her answer at face value but he was intrigued by how her body language spoke the opposite of her words and he seemed to be the cause.

Leaning back against her car door, he folded his arms and settled in for a wait. He didn’t say anything. His own body language did the talking.

Finally she let out a huff. “I’m just tired of it. Okay?”

Figuring she wasn’t talking about the hour or being literally tired, he asked, “Tired of what?”

“Being invisible. Guys like you never look at girls like me. Sure, you’ll walk me to my car but it’s to be nice. Not for any other reason.”

He was quiet for a while, digesting the meaning of what she’d said, including the insult against him.

Reading her, from the tone of her words, to the mingled emotions in her glance, he could see the insecurity inside her. The frustration. Even the hope that she was wrong.

He could just put her in her car, watch her drive away and go upstairs. Or even better, he could go back to the bar for that third drink.

Instead, Mack felt himself compelled to straighten out her misconceptions. “You’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

She snorted out a huff. “Right.”

And with that one word she’d just called him a liar. He was in a strange mood tonight. He didn’t know what to make of it but he knew one thing, she wasn’t going to get away with assuming something about him that wasn’t true.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-two.”

Eyes narrowed, he tried to evaluate in the dim light of the streetlamp if that could be true. “I might want to see proof of that.”

Her eyes flashed with anger that he didn’t believe her. “The bartender checked my ID and served me. That means I’m at least twenty-one.”

Yeah, she was younger than he was, but not by as many years as he’d first assumed when he’d wondered if she was underage to drink.
 

He liked her spit and fire and decided to push her a little further. Teasing her was proving to be fun. “But it doesn’t prove you’re twenty-two.”

Planting her hands on her hips, she let out a huff. “Why would anyone lie about being twenty-two? Twenty-one, yes because that’s the drinking age, but lying by one year and saying I’m twenty-two is just ridiculous—”

Her little rant did more than amuse him. It had him getting even harder.
 

He hauled her against him, close enough they were pressed together from chest to thigh and all the parts in between. Close enough there was no way she could miss the erection that had reasserted itself during this little tiff.

And why he had a hard-on from arguing with her was an issue he’d have to think about later. Right now, he had a point to prove to her.

With his face barely two inches away from hers, he drew in a breath and realized he could smell everything about her. A light, sweet scent that must be her perfume. The beer on her breath as she exhaled. Even the scent of the leather bag on her shoulder.

The fact he was hypersensitive and trained to take in every detail, no matter how small, was working against him right now.

He pushed aside the sensations assaulting him and forged ahead, intent on proving his point. “Guys like me—whatever the hell
that
means—do look at girls like you.”

Her eyes went from wide with surprise to narrow as her gaze dropped to his lips.

Reading body language had kept him alive more than once. Mack knew what she intended to do before she leaned in to close the short distance between their lips.

Damned if he didn’t consider doing it too. Kissing her. Taking her upstairs. Sinking into her soft heat until he was spent and worn out enough to get the sleep his body needed but his mind wouldn’t allow.

Mack pulled back.

He couldn’t do it.

He didn’t know much about her, but he could tell she wasn’t one-night stand material and he couldn’t give a woman much more than that.

Not in his current job, not to mention his current fucked-up state of mind.

Drawing in a breath, he shook his head. “No.”

CHAPTER 4

They’d been about to kiss. She was a breath from his lips. The very mouth she had already envisioned roaming all over her body . . . and now he was saying no?

Not just saying it, but proving he meant it by taking a full step away from her.

“No? Why not?” Lydia realized she was opening herself up for even more hurt by asking the question but she wanted an answer.

She braced herself for whatever bullshit excuse this dark haired, blue eyed, hard bodied hottie made to try and spare her feelings.

“Because you’ve been drinking.”

Lydia drew her brows down low. “I’m not drunk. I had one light beer all night.”

Unfortunately, the car keys she’d already gotten out of her bag while they’d been outside the bar waiting to cross the street chose that moment to fall from her grasp.

In her defense, she was a klutz. She’d already told him and had proven it by almost falling flat on her face.

She hadn’t been holding on to the keys too tightly after he’d hauled her against him. After she got a feel of that erection he was sporting pressed against her, all of her blood had rushed elsewhere. She was lucky she could still feel her fingers.

He laughed, which made her frown deeper.

“Yeah, you are.” Mack bent down and grabbed the keys, keeping them hostage in his big strong hands.

“No—”

He cut off her protest. “It’s okay. I’m not judging, but you’re not driving. At least not right now. There’s a diner on the next block. I’ll drive you in your car there and then I’ll walk back. You get yourself a cup of coffee and maybe something to eat, and then you can be on your way.”