Two Week Seduction (14 page)

“The police are looking into it, of course. Building security is massively embarrassed, as they should be. But it’s got me thinking about the safety of my people. I don’t like the idea of thieves running around where I have staff. Where my clients bring their problems. It’s rather disturbing, to tell the truth.”

As it should be. “No leads, then?”

He shrugged and swirled the ice in his drink. “Not that they’re talking to me about.”

“What is it that you’d like me to do, sir?” he asked. “I could look at your security procedures, just for reassurance, but that might insult the existing staff. And the police have no reason to talk to me at all.”

Mr. Heling’s eyes widened as he looked up from his drink. “What? No, no. I was just thinking about hiring my own night watchman, is all. Thought you might be interested if you’re done with the military. And if you aren’t, then perhaps one of your buddies might be available.”

John worked hard to keep his expression even, but inside he was reeling from the insult. Was the man an idiot? John had been in firefights, had interrogated prisoners, and had even foiled a terrorist plot. His rank meant he commanded a dozen men. Hell, he’d even been decorated more than once. Did Mr. Heling have the slightest clue how insulting a night watchman job was to a man like him?

Of course not. He was a civilian who’d never been in the military. In his mind, all John did was stand guard in a little booth and check IDs.

John pushed to his feet. “Thank you for the job offer, but I’m afraid I’ve re-enlisted.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. Your mother will worry, I’m sure, but the military’s a good place to build a career.”

“And defend the country.”

Mr. Heling nodded. “Yes, of course. We couldn’t have our lives back home without you boys out there.”

John nodded, doing his best to remain polite. Fortunately, he didn’t need to make much more polite talk. Mr. Heling either realized he’d insulted John or was simply uninterested in a new conversation now that his job offer was over. The man said a few more inconsequential things before the conversation lagged. Then the women returned.

They came back laughing, with Candy tugging on her sister’s sleeve. “You’re going to have to get a better wardrobe, sis. Even at Stanford, you have to look like a lawyer.”

Alea slapped her sister’s hand away. “Californians are casual about their clothes. Flip-flops and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” her mother cried. “We’ll go shopping next week before the party. Get you some nice things to round out your wardrobe.”

“My wardrobe is just fine, Mom.” Then she turned to John. “So what have you been talking about?”

He was still deciding how to answer when her father spoke up. “Oh he’s been telling me all about Afghanistan. Made it sound rather exciting.”

John turned to stare at Mr. Heling. If the man was going to lie, at least make it convincing. He would never glorify what he’d done. It wasn’t glamorous.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Heling sighed. “You military boys are all alike. Just like Sam with his flyboy tales.”

So that’s where they got the idea he’d brag. Pilots were their own breed, and Sam was as egotistical as they came. At least when it came to war stories. Fortunately, Alea didn’t look like she wanted to hang around, so he gestured to the door. “You’ve got an early day tomorrow and I’m not done painting my mother’s house.”

“Yes, let’s get out of here before Candy starts up on how evil modern wheat is.”

Mr. Heling pushed to his feet as well. “Best of luck to you, John. I’m glad we have fine boys like you protecting us overseas.” Then he turned to his wife. “Did you hear? John’s re-enlisted. We’ll be calling him General before we know it.”

No, actually they wouldn’t. He was enlisted, not officer. But now wasn’t the time to argue as Alea spun back to him. “What? I thought you hadn’t decided.”

Oops. This wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to tell her, but the damage was done now. “I mailed in the paperwork Monday.”

Alea didn’t answer, but her expression was statement enough. She was stunned. And moving quickly into pissed. Damn.

Meanwhile, Candy went serious. “So, you’re making a career of it then?”

“Guess so.” He nodded, though every part of him resisted the movement.

“Goodness, dear,” said Mrs. Heling, all sympathy and relief. Mostly relief that he’d be leaving her daughter alone. “Do you deploy soon?”

“My leave is over next week. I’ll head back to Afghanistan, and then probably stay there through the next deployment.”

“Does your mom know?” That was Alea, her voice soft compared to everyone else in the room.

He looked away. No, he hadn’t told his mother. He hadn’t told anyone before tonight, and that just went to show how off his game was. Of all the people to tell first, he’d chosen Alea’s father? He was a fucking moron.

“Well,” said Mrs. Heling, suddenly all business. “Alea’s got an early morning and apparently John has something to discuss with his mother. I don’t envy her, I tell you. I made Sam promise this tour was his last. I never sleep easy unless he’s stateside.”

Then it was the general business of good-bye and stay safe. The usual things acquaintances said to military people before deployment. Impersonal words that didn’t further the connection in case the worst happened overseas.

It didn’t bother him because he was used to it. And frankly, there was a sense of inevitability in the good-byes. After all, he was never going to be a regular in this house or even this neighborhood. He just didn’t have the background to associate with these people. It was only a fluke of the high school football team that Sam and he had become friends in the first place. Now that they were adults, this type of connection would fade naturally.

He settled into the solidity of that thought as he climbed into the car. It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was familiar. Until Alea started the car and backed out of the driveway. They were halfway down the block when she finally spoke.

“When we get to my apartment, I’m going to tie you up and then beat the shit out of you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Alea had never been so livid in her entire life. “What the hell, John. You talk to me for hours—hours—about how frustrating the military is. How there’s no more room for advancement. How you feel stuck. And then, wham, you re-enlist?”

“And didn’t you say you’re frustrated with school? The administration sucks, the kids are disrespectful, sometimes dangerous, and the money is crap.”

“Yeah, I did. So I applied to law school.”

He cut her a hard look, and she felt her face heat. Fortunately, she was driving, so she could keep her gaze on the road and not appear to be avoiding him. He sighed.

“I was going to tell you this afternoon at school.”

“And instead, we talked about everything else. God, John, at least when you ran off last time, I had an explanation. This time…” She stopped at a light and turned to him. “I never know which way is up with you and it’s making me insane.”

“Right there with ya, babe.” His mouth quirked at the side—a bad attempt at a smile—but then it flattened out as he held her gaze.

She gaped at him. “So you’re saying I’m making you nuts.”

“Yeah.”

“Me? How? By doing you six ways last week? By going to dinner with you and having a great time? By feeling like we have something, John? Something real.”

He blanched at that. A no shit, pasty gray skin blanch that had her gripping the steering wheel in fury.

The light had changed, so she accelerated, working hard to keep from crying. She shouldn’t be driving in this state. She could get them both killed and, at the moment, she was messed up enough to wonder if she cared. She needed to get it together or pull into a parking lot.

“So that’s it then,” she said. “We were a fun time while you’re on leave.”

“I never said I was sticking around.” His words were spoken quietly, but they filled the car like the ringing of a gong. Jesus, she’d been such a fool.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. It was freeway driving, so that made it a little easier. Or perhaps more dangerous. Either way, she felt her emotions settle to the monotonous drone of the wheels and the steady pulse as they passed under lights. And in that quiet, a clarity of thought formed.

She’d waited ten years to see if what she felt for him was real. Well, it was. She’d fallen in love. And she thought maybe he had, too. Except now he was going for another tour, and she’d be damned if she waited another decade to find out exactly what was possible between them.

Which meant she had to lay it all on the line. She had to tell him exactly what she felt, exactly what she wanted. If he ditched her, then that was it. She could go on with her life. If he didn’t, then maybe she’d wait for him.

Bullshit. Of course she’d wait for him. She was that much in love. But she wasn’t going to wait in limbo not knowing if he was ever coming back to her. So she took the exit for her apartment, and at that moment, he straightened up and looked around.

“Wait a moment. Where are we going?”

“I told you. My apartment.”

“Where you’re going to tie me up and kick my ass.” His tone said just what he thought of her ability to restrain him. He had a point. No way could she tie him up without his consent. But there were a dozen or more ways to get a man to play along, and she planned to try every single one of them.

“Look, I’ve got some things to say to you.” She swallowed. “Something to show you. And I sure as hell am not going to do that while driving at seventy miles an hour down a freeway.”

He sighed. “Why don’t you just take me to my motorcycle? We can talk tomorrow. When we’re both a little calmer.”

Like that was ever going to happen. If she let him leave now, she’d probably never see him again and they’d never have this out. “We’re talking, John. Deal with it.”

He didn’t respond, and she took that as consent. Five minutes later, they were pulling into the lot of her apartment building. Then she got out of the car and stared at him until he joined her. Every part of him, from the expression on his face to the slow way he moved, told her he did not want to do this. But she had a mad on, and he wasn’t getting out of this. So, she gestured for him to precede her up the stairs.

He did, his steps even with military-like precision. A man going into a firefight. Or a court-martial. By the time they made it to her door, she was flashing on the last time they were there. They hadn’t even made it into her apartment, but, damn, the sex had been hot.

With shaking fingers, she twisted the lock then walked into her living room. He followed, his expression still wary. She gestured to her couch.

“Sit.”

“While you go get rope to tie me up?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Straight-back chair would be better than the couch.”

She snorted, both amazed that she could laugh and be furious at him for making her almost smile. Instead, she resorted to her favorite putdown, usually reserved for her brother. “You’re not as charming as you think.”

“So I’ve been told,” he drawled and again, she hated him because he made her lips twitch into a smile. He also sat down—rigidly and correctly—while she dropped her purse, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of wine. Then she set it back down. She really didn’t need alcohol messing up her brain, but the good hostess in her made her offer it to him. “Want something to eat or drink?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he shut it tight and shook his head.

“Right,” she said. “No food. No drink. Straight to the point.”

“I’m military. I like things simple and direct.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, how’s this for direct? You never asked me about my tattoo. What do you think of it?”

He blinked. Did a quick scan of her from head to toe, then returned to her face. Then he just looked at her.

“So you didn’t see it. I thought you might have missed it.” All their naked shenanigans had been in the dark, and the tat was kind of subtle. Well, not really, but in the dark, it was easy to mistake as shadows. “Well, no time like the present.” She pulled off her blouse and popped her bra. His eyes widened as she worked, but he didn’t say anything. And when she finally stood there free and breezy, his gaze riveted to her left breast and her tattoo.

A spring of lavender tied with a ribbon right over her heart. And coiling into her nipple.

She watched him swallow, but she knew he didn’t get it. She sat down across from him, forcing herself to remain topless while she explained. “Do you remember your last prom?”

He nodded slowly, and then suddenly his eyes widened. He did remember, but of course, he didn’t understand. So she kept talking.

“My best friend, Marci, got dumped by her boyfriend a week before prom. She was devastated and the guy was a jerk. I knew you didn’t have a date, so I begged you to take her. And you did.” She shifted uncomfortably on her chair. “I wanted you to take her because I knew you were a good guy. You’d treat her right, help her get past the bastard, and…and you know. Do everything an honorable gentleman should. Because that’s the kind of guy you were.” She grimaced. “You are. Even if you’re working real hard to be a jerk right now.”

His expression narrowed for a moment at that, but he didn’t speak. He was still remembering something from ten years ago. Something that clearly hadn’t affected him as much as it had her.

“So I didn’t understand then, ’cause I was an idiot, that you didn’t have a date because you couldn’t afford it. With the tux and corsages and going in on the limo with Sam, it cost you a ton. I’m sorry, by the way. I should have offered to pay for that stuff myself.”

His gaze flashed fire. “I would have refused.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s the whole good guy thing.” She twisted her fingers in her lap. God, this was hard. “So do you remember the corsage you got her?”

“I picked some lavender from my mom’s yard and tied a ribbon around it.” His gaze went to her tattoo. Yup. That was the corsage exactly. She’d taken a prom picture into the artist and had it duplicated.

“Right. And then you borrowed money from Sam to get a tux, you worked extra shifts to pay for the limo, and you ate nothing at dinner so you could pay for her meal.”