Two Week Seduction (3 page)

Chapter Three

Alea stared out the window of the Mercedes, watching the familiar sights of Jacksonville flow by. It was comforting to her, this city where she grew up, and she relaxed into the familiar wash of lights. Not so comforting was her brother’s silence. He wasn’t a talker, and so he had to build himself up before he spoke. That usually involved a lot of weird manly noises like grunts and haws, but whatever. She wasn’t in the mood to hear it, not when her body still tingled from John’s kiss. Not when her belly was quivering in a liquid happy dance and her nipples were tight with hunger. Too bad her whole body was going to bed disappointed tonight.

“Um, Alea—”

“Save it. I’m a big girl who has been making choices on her own for a very long time now.”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. Hard to be uncomfortable in this car, but apparently he’d found a way. “Look, I’m not really someone who gives advice—”

“Let me save you the time. Has your opinion of John changed at all since we were kids?”

She looked at his profile, seeing how his solid jaw became rock hard as he clenched his teeth. He was holding back, trying to find a way to make her listen. It hadn’t worked back in high school. She had no idea why he thought it would work now.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “You two were best friends back then. Then one night ten years ago, I blow him a single air kiss and you go insane.”

“You put on a miniskirt and all but climbed his leg.”

“Not true!”

“So true!”

She bit her lip and thought back. Okay, so maybe it was a little true. Or exactly true. She’d had it bad for John back then. And maybe she still did. But that didn’t explain her brother’s hostile attitude toward his best friend.

“What gives? Why do you hate him?” she pressed. She even turned her body to face him directly, folding her arms and leveling him her best teacher stare. Sadly, he wasn’t looking at her, so the expression went unnoticed.

“I don’t hate him. He’s a great guy. I’d have him covering my six any day.”

“So?”

“So that doesn’t mean he’s right for you. Alea, he’s not a commitment type of guy. He’s not someone who will settle down with a wife and kids.”

Her gut wrenched at his words, which did nothing to stop the childish retort that flew out of her mouth. “Maybe I don’t want a husband and kids. Maybe suburbia drives me crazy.”

He snorted. They both knew she wanted a husband and children. She dreamed of a house with a white picket fence and a jungle gym swing set. When she looked into her future, she saw her husband dressing up as Santa as he ho, ho, hoed it at a block party.

So she tried a different tack. “Maybe John isn’t who you think he is. You haven’t hung out for years. Maybe he’s grown out of his wild high school days.”

“Nobody changes that much,” he said. Then for the first time this conversation, he turned to look at her. He leveled a serious stare at her. “Maybe this isn’t about John at all. Maybe it’s about you.”

She frowned, pretending total confusion. It was a lie, of course. She knew what was coming, but she tried it anyway. “I have no idea—”

“Congratulations on getting into law school.”

Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. “Um, where did you hear that?”

“Like Mom wasn’t bragging about it the second I got home.”

“Uh, where did Mom hear that?”

Her brother shrugged. “From her friend. You know, you interviewed with her old buddy or something. Said you were a shoo-in for Georgetown Law.”

Alea looked out the window, but somehow the lights weren’t so soothing anymore. “So she doesn’t know. She’s just guessing.”

“Did you get in?”

She remained silent.

“You did.”

Not only had she gotten into Georgetown, but UCLA, the University of Michigan, and Berkeley Law, too. But that was because she’d grown up in a family of lawyers for like a gazillion generations. It’s what her family did—they became lawyers. Sam was the only one to escape the pattern, and that was only because he talked about JAG after his stint as a pilot. The best she’d managed to do was delay the process with an after-college position in Teach for America. That’s how she started at Lawrence High School, and she’d already extended well beyond her two-year commitment.

But her time teaching was ending. If she was going to be a lawyer, then she needed to get on with it. So she’d applied and interviewed and did all the right things. And over the past few weeks, the acceptances had rolled in.

“So here’s the way I see it,” her brother said, his voice damnably calm when her entire life felt like it had been turned upside down. “You’re not sure about law school, you’re not sure about moving across the country, and you sure as hell don’t know what you want to do when you grow up.”

“I’m already grown up.”

“But everything’s unsure right now. So what do you do? You run full tilt at the one thing that feels familiar—John. And since he’s here on leave, you pour yourself into his party—”

“I was helping his mother.”

“And then you all but fall into his lap on his first night home.”

Is that what had happened? She seemed to remember
him
kissing
her
. But she had been the one bending over him. And maybe… She snorted back at both her brother and the questions spinning through her head. “Even if that’s true—which it really isn’t—what’s the harm? He’s on leave.”

“God, sis, don’t do that to yourself. A summer fling? That only works out in romance novels. In real life, a one-night stand with John will fuck you over.”

“I don’t crush that easily,” she retorted, but inside she wondered. Mostly she worried because her body was doing the Mardi Gras of happy dances at the idea of a one-night stand with John. She’d never had fantasies like this. She wanted John with an intensity that wasn’t normal. Maybe she should be thinking about that instead of just going with her gut.

Meanwhile, her brother was relentless. “Fine. You’re tungsten steel, but he’s just lost his father. He’s here to get his mother settled before heading back out. Don’t mess with a guy’s head before he goes back to war. It’s not fair. Worse, it’s dangerous.”

Shit. She hated it when her brother was right. In all her lustful fantasies about John, she hadn’t stopped to think about him going back to Afghanistan. His mother talked about him coming home for good. About him finishing his tour and settling down in Jacksonville. But now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard him say he was staying home. And after the welcome home bit, that had always been the next question: what are your plans now? She hadn’t been the one asking, of course. She’d gotten the feeling he was avoiding her. But she’d certainly listened in. And his answer had always been about his plans to fix up his mother’s house. Weed the garden and fix the porch, that kind of thing.

Shit. Her brother was right. She had to find out what he was planning before she followed through on the promise of that kiss. And damn if that didn’t set her whole body to pouting.

Meanwhile, her brother couldn’t resist adding the last word. “You’ve got to try and think clearly. You’re too old to be leaping before you look.”

Thankfully, he was just pulling into her apartment complex so she doubted he saw the finger she gave in response.

…

John parked his mother’s shit car and looked about the parking lot at Lawrence High School. The neighborhood had been going downhill when he’d attended the school, but now it was downright scary. Or perhaps his security experience just gave him a different perspective. Either way, the open campus high school looked like a disaster waiting to happen. Suicide bombers, IEDs, disgruntled employees—any one of them could have a field day here. Of course, no one expected insurgents in Jacksonville, Florida, and he was clearly being paranoid. Still, he couldn’t help but look at all the kids milling around and envision what types of weapons hid beneath the sports jerseys and baggy jeans.

Clearly civilian life wasn’t for him. Just as a certain petite brunette was making him think of explosive devices. Because that’s what he felt like. He’d been going along with a nice career and a good life when bam, one night home and he kisses her. A single hot kiss that destroyed his sleep and made him itchy whenever he thought about her. Like he was dying to strip naked and rub himself all over her. And on top of her. And between her thighs.

God, he couldn’t wait to get back to a war zone where he felt in control.

But he wasn’t at Bagram Air Base. He was here, returning dishes to her because his mother had begged him to do the errand. She’d given him directions like he couldn’t find his old high school all by himself and then told him where her classroom was. Second floor facing the back. Hell, he’d probably find her by scent alone. Citrus and Alea. His nose had been dreaming about the scent since last night.

And how ridiculous was this? He was Air Force Security. And yet here he was, hiding out in a beat-up VW, afraid of what might happen if he brought a couple of platters to a high school geometry teacher. If his squadron could see him now, he’d be laughed out of the military.

With a muttered curse, he grabbed the dishes and headed into the school. Very little had changed since he was here last, except that the kids all seemed younger, the hallways dirtier, and no one recognized him. He’d left high school as a football star. And it wasn’t until he got into the military that he realized exactly how little that meant to anyone, including himself.

Most of the kids barreled past him, out the doors. A few hung around lockers talking or making out. His steps slowed as he looked about him, feeling disconnected and melancholic in a way that might have been nostalgia if it didn’t feel so weird. It was so little of real life. Or military life. Or…he didn’t know what life except that it felt…itchy. Like new skin.

“You can’t do this to me!” A young man’s voice pitched loud and angry, jolting him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t the words so much as the tone. A teen on the edge of violence, just about to break. All his senses went on alert, even more so when he heard Alea’s calm response.

“I can and I have. I’ve been telling you since the beginning of the year, Charlie. You have to do the work to pass my class.”

“I can get a waiver or something. I heard—”

“You heard wrong. Do you really think I’ve been lying to you from the very first day of class? If you want to graduate—”

“I have to graduate!”

“Then you have to do the work.”

“You fucking bitch!”

John was through the door and on the bastard before he’d even realized he’d moved. The kid was small, but that didn’t mean anything. Even a small child could do damage with the right weapon. He had the boy pinned, face down on the floor before the platters he’d been carrying finished shattering out in the hallway. He was busy reaching for his weapon before he realized he wasn’t carrying any. And that this wasn’t Afghanistan, but a high school in Florida.

“John!”

“Get off me! Get the—”

“Calm down,” he said in his most menacing voice. “You need to settle down or this gets a lot worse.” He pressed his knee into the kid’s back, just enough to make his point. It took a little time though because the kid was wiry. Probably make a good wrestler.

“John, you can’t put your hands on a kid. You haven’t the authority.”

“That’s right!” the kid sneered. Quite the attitude given he was lying face down on the linoleum. “You haven’t got no—”

A little shift in his weight and the kid’s words were cut off.

“John!”

He eased off. The kid made quite the show of struggling for breath. It was a lie. John knew just how much pressure was needed for any type of damage, and he wasn’t close. But he also wasn’t going to go easy.

“Apologize to Miss Heling.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing!”

“You weren’t doing
anything
except disrespecting your teacher. That requires an apology.”

“John, I had it under control.”

Yeah, right up to the point where the kid drew a knife and gutted her. John didn’t even look at her. “Charlie. That your name?”

“What of it?”

“Nothing. Just want it for the police.” He’d almost said commanding officer.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Alea sigh and lean back against her desk. “Charlie, I’d like to introduce you to Tech Sergeant John O’Donnell. He’s with Air Force Security. Just back from Afghanistan. I suggest you do what he says.”

The kid stilled enough to slant a look at him. “Security?”

“We carry big guns and hunt terrorists.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Huh.” That was it. Just a word that sounded more like a grunt.

“Apologize, Charlie.”

The kid squinted at Alea. “I’m sorry for cursing, Miss Heling.”

“You’re forgiven.” She shot a look at John. “You can let him up now.”

John was up in a flash, far enough away to give the kid room to get up, but close enough to take him right back down if needed. Charlie scrambled up, all legs and arms and attitude. But after making a show of shaking out his clothing and pumping his biceps a few times, his expression seemed tolerable.

“I want to be Air Force, too. Fly me some jets.”

John felt his lips curve. He remembered saying something like that years ago. “I could help with that. I know some people. In fact, Miss Heling’s brother is a pilot.”

Charlie grinned. “I know. That’s why—”

“And he doesn’t like people cursing his sister.”

The kid’s grin faded and he looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Miss Heling,” he mumbled.

At least it was a real apology this time. Meanwhile Alea smiled.

“You already apologized, Charlie. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got to pass geometry to get into the Air Force. You’ve got to get through high school.”

The kid slanted a look to John, who nodded. “She’s right.”

“But I don’t get this shit!”

“Because it’s hard?” John asked.

“Yeah!”

He snorted. “Think it’s easy becoming a fighter pilot?”

Then Alea picked up the rhythm of the conversation. “Think my brother didn’t spend days and nights studying to pass his exams?”