Two Week Seduction (10 page)

Sam cut in again. “He said purple flowers of some sort. Spent the afternoon looking at patterns then came over to ask me. Like I know—”

“Yeah, we got that,” John interrupted.

Meanwhile Alea just laughed. “It’s no big deal, John.”

“I broke ’em. I’ll buy you new ones. I just don’t know the pattern.” That stuff was important to high-class women like her. Dish patterns and matching silverware. Just because he ate off plastic most of the time didn’t mean he was completely ignorant.

“It was just a cheap couple of platters—”

“Tell him the pattern, honey,” inserted Mrs. Heling from the top of the stairs. “You have to allow the poor their pride.”

“Mom!” Alea cried, but John interrupted her.

“It’s not important. Really.”

“Wasn’t it a cheap Mikasa?” Mrs. Heling said.

John took the hint. Anything to get out of this conversation. He grabbed his phone and typed in Mikasa. Ten seconds later, he’d found the pattern and flashed it to Alea. “Is this it?”

She had to come down the stairs to see. Bad planning on his part as he needed distance from the woman, not a heady whiff of her perfume. Too late now. She touched his hand and heat shot through his body as she angled the cell toward her.

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll buy replacements and have them shipped to your apartment.”

“John, no. There’s no need—”

“Jesus, Alea,” groused Sam as he tried to push his mother upstairs. “It’s just a couple plates. He can afford them.”

Alea sighed. “Fine. But most guys bring flowers.”

It was hard to answer because he was riveted on the hint of cleavage revealed at the top of her blouse. She was dressed like a schoolteacher, and there he was, lusting after the shadow revealed by her open collar.

He started keying in his purchase, but it was awkward given that he was working on his cell phone.

She plucked the phone out of his hand. “Stop it. You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm.”

“What?”

“You were cursing.”

“So?”

“And muttering. And grumbling. And…” She glanced up the stairs. Mother and brother were out of sight. “So how come you haven’t called?”

He swallowed. Fortunately he had an excuse ready. Mostly because he’d thought about her all damn day. “Don’t know your phone number.”

She nodded. “But your mom has it.”

Yeah. Well…

“In fact,” she said as she lifted up his phone and keyed to the contacts list. A simple search later and there she was. “You already got it from your mother. So…care to try excuse Number Two?”

“You could have called me.” Best defense is a good offense.

She nodded. “I would have called you, but you’re the one who snuck out without waking me. In those cases, I figure you didn’t want to talk to me and you’d call if you wanted to.” A look of vulnerability flashed across her face only to be swallowed up by what men in the military called being a rock. “So…what’s up? Do you want me to go away?”

No. Yes. Jesus, he didn’t know what he wanted. That’s why he hadn’t called.

“John?”

He ran for the nearest excuse. “You know I’m not staying in Jacksonville, right? I’m going back overseas.”

Her gaze canted away. “Your mom said you hadn’t filled out the paperwork.”

“I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m going.”

“Ah. She’ll be disappointed. She so hoped—”

“I know.” He did know. And it tore at him daily.

“You can’t live for your parents, right?” she said, her voice light. Like canned laughter, as if she’d rehearsed those words a thousand times. “Gotta pick the path that’s right for you.”

He studied her expression, but she gave nothing else away. “Right.”

She flashed him a warm smile and then put her fingers on his arm. It wasn’t a casual touch. It was a slight squeeze of her fingers on his forearm that felt like whole a body embrace. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t spend the rest of your leave getting down and dirty with each other, right? At least until you go back.”

Jesus, his dick lunged for her. Thank God his knees had locked him in place. Meanwhile, he stared at her gray business suit and replayed the conversation in his mind. The words just didn’t fit with the exterior. “Alea—”

She held up her hand. “Look, if you’re not into me, then that’s different. But…” Her gaze dropped to his crotch. “Evidence would suggest—”

“I know what the evidence suggests,” he said. Then he rubbed a hand over his face. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been with girls all over the world, but he’d always made sure they were the opposite of Alea. They weren’t high-class. They weren’t family types. And they certainly weren’t the kind of girls you took home to mother. “You don’t do casual.”

She cocked her head and that shock of red brushed across her forehead. “Says who?”

Said her brother like a zillion years ago. Said his father, even longer ago. Said everyone who knew anything about women. Some were forever girls, some weren’t.

“Hey you feel like ordering a pizza?” Sam called down from the top of the stairs.

Saved by her brother. “Nah man. And aren’t you eating steak?”

“Gone. But I’m still hungry.” Sam appeared at the top of the stairs. “What about you, Alea?”

She huffed, temporarily poofing the hair on her forehead. “Aren’t you past your adolescent growth spurt?”

Sam grinned. “Apparently not.”

“Well, I am.” There was dismissal in her tone, something that wasn’t lost on her brother.

Sam came a step farther down the stairs, a frown on his face. “So, um, John. Want to go to a movie? Or a bar?”

Translation—what are you doing here with my sister?

“Nah. I’m going to be up early painting tomorrow.”

“Your mom’s house?”

“Yeah. It’s what a son does when he’s on leave, right? Fix every damn thing in her house.”

Sam laughed. “Thank God my mom knows how to call a repairman.”

Thank God his mom could afford one. But John just smiled and grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for the beer and the chance to whoop your slow tank ass. It felt like old times.”

Sam snorted but he backed up the stairs. Not all the way out of sight, but he was moving so that John could leave. Meanwhile, Alea was busy typing something into his phone. He reached for it, but she twisted out of the way.

“I need that,” he said quiet enough that her brother wouldn’t hear.

She passed it over to him with a too-sweet smile. “Here you go.”

He looked down at the screen and saw that she’d written him a note.

Join me at Pete’s House of Pancakes at 0900 tomorrow. Or else.

He arched a brow.

Her smile widened into that mischievous one he remembered from high school. The one that said she had an idea. An idea that was going to get him into a lot of trouble. She grabbed her cell phone and started typing, chatting all the while in that saccharine tone. “You know, I have some leftover painting supplies. How about I bring them over?”

His cell phone dinged. A text from her.

I’ll be wearing a bikini.

Fuck. He wasn’t sure if she meant the bikini at breakfast or at his mother’s house. Either way, the idea of her flesh all pink and puckered from the March chill made his teeth sweat.

Another ding.

And I’ll make sure to invite your sisters, too. We’ll talk about you while you watch me paint.

Fuck no. His sisters would see the way he lusted after her. Then there would be questions and teasing and…

He glared at her, but still managed to text his response.

0900. Pete’s Pancakes. I’ll get my revenge on you then.

Her laugh followed him up the stairs and all the way home.

Chapter Ten

John was a waffle man.

Alea dropped her chin on her hand and settled into the importance of that conclusion. Sure the man had enjoyed his eggs and what guy didn’t love bacon? He’d tasted her order of pecan pancakes and agreed they were tasty. But what he really loved were his waffles.

Neat little squares covered in berry compote and buried in whipped cream. He wasn’t so much into syrup, apparently. When asked, he’d said it made things too sticky, but bury a waffle in whipped cream and he was in heaven. And she did love a man who could enjoy the simple things in life…a walk on the beach, a beautiful sunset, and his waffles.

“I could watch you eat forever,” she said.

He looked up, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. “What? Why?”

“You just enjoy it so much.”

“It’s food. I eat. And when it’s good food, I like it.”

She laughed. “Yes, I can tell. But there’s no second-guessing to your food. You don’t think calories or appearances or anything like that. You just eat.”

“Because it’s food and I’m hungry.”

“Is that a military thing?” It couldn’t be because her brother was also military, but he was very aware of every morsel he put in his body. Didn’t stop him, of course, but he knew what he consumed.

John set down his fork and looked at the last bites of his breakfast. “Maybe it’s a cop thing. I don’t know. I just appreciate it when there’s food in front of me.”

“Don’t get self-conscious,” she laughed. “It was just an observation. And a good one at that. Eat. Enjoy.”

“Now I’m thinking about it.”

“Here. Let me help.” She leaned over and forked up a huge bite of the section he had left then popped it into her mouth. Oh my. Oh yes. Carb and sugar heaven.

“Hey!”

“You’re not thinking about why you eat anymore, are you?”

His gaze had narrowed onto her mouth and his body had shifted. She couldn’t label specifics, but he suddenly seemed a lot more dangerous. Not angry dangerous. Just powerful man looking at tasty woman dangerous.

She swallowed her bite convulsively, then licked her lips. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Sexual heat suddenly exploded in her belly and now she was the one shifting awkwardly in her seat. Damn, he’d just taken her from zero to mega-horny with one look.

“This is a family restaurant,” she said as she delicately wiped her mouth.

“No one here can read my mind.”

“I can.”

His lips curved. “I doubt it. You’re not blushing enough.”

Okay, so now she was. Her mind was suddenly filled with all sorts of hot and somewhat depraved images.

“There you go,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re awful. I didn’t ask you to breakfast for…that type of talk.”

He looked much too innocent as he popped the last bite of waffle in his mouth. “What? I’m just eating my breakfast.” Sure he was. But as he spoke, he rubbed his leg over hers under the table. Just a slow, steady press of a caress. As she was in leggings with an oversized belted blouse, she was startled by how erotic his jeans could feel against her leg.

It took an effort of will, but she forced herself to move away. That wasn’t what this breakfast was about. So she leaned across the table and touched his hand. He’d been reaching for his coffee cup, but now he stilled, frozen at the place where her fingers brushed his.

“John, I want to know more about you. I’ve known you most of my life and yet I know so little about who you are.”

He frowned, his expression forbidding. She might have been intimidated if his fingers weren’t busy entwining with hers. “There’s nothing to know.”

She laughed. “I’d say something rude to that, but we’re in a family restaurant. Come on. We’re getting to know each other.”

“Alea—”

“I’ll start. Tell me about what you do in the Air Force.”

“If you’re starting, you’re supposed to share first.”

“We’re playing by teacher rules. And in those, the teacher asks the questions.”

He leaned back and folded his arms. Under that tee, his muscles flexed and stretched the material. “And I’m the student in this scenario?”

“You can be whomever you want so long as you start talking.” Then she softened her expression. “Come on. Call it a sleeping-with-me-tax. I don’t care. Just—”

“What do you want to know?”

She was stunned. She didn’t think he’d give in so easily. But then again, he hadn’t really given in, had he? He’d thrown it back to her in a question. That was probably an interrogation tactic or something, but she was game to try.

“Let’s start with your regular day. What do you do on base?”

“It’s pretty routine most of the time. Some of it’s classified.” He stopped. Grabbed his coffee and drank.

“That’s it? Geez, it’s like pulling teeth with you. Tell me what you can.”

“I protect the people who protect this country. I make sure the base is safe, the planes and personnel are safe, and the supplies are safe. I do whatever’s necessary to make sure—”

“That stuff is safe. I got it.”

“Not stuff. The
people
. Without food, the personnel don’t eat. Without planes, they don’t fly. Without a safe place to land, they get shot down or killed in their sleep.”

She nodded. So it was all about the people for him. Got it. Just as teaching was all about the kids to her. Not the words, not the test scores, not even their future colleges, but about who they were as people.

“So have you arrested people?”

He snorted. “Lots.”

“Terrorists?”

His expression sobered. “Yes.”

“And do you like your job?”

“Yes.” More emphatic.

“Does it make you happy?”

He blinked at her. Once. Twice. And then he rolled his eyes. “That’s such a female question.”

“That doesn’t make it a bad question.”

“It’s not about happy, Alea. It’s about doing a job that needs doing.”

“Serving your country, patriotism and all that?”

He shrugged as if embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“But it’s not all about that, is it? I mean, it’s got to be more than just serving your country. There are a thousand ways to serve without being an Air Force cop.”

For the first time in this conversation, he looked away from her. Not just away from her face, but away from her whole body. He looked at his coffee mug and didn’t move.

“John?”

“Being security was all that I could manage. Couldn’t hack it as a pilot.”

“Because of your eyes?” That’s what Sam had told her. That his eyes just weren’t good enough to fly and he couldn’t afford the surgery to try and fix them. So he got contact lenses and dropped out of flight school.