Words are slicker’n grease, boy. Don’t listen; watch. What does the guy do? It’s actions that’ll show who he really is. ~ First Sergeant Michael “Mako” Tyne
Finished with work, Bull motioned Gryff off the sectional and settled in his place beside Frankie. Such a pretty sight.
She’d fallen asleep not long after she’d started reading. Gradually, the strain had disappeared from her face.
Damn the PZs. All the same, it could be the assholes hadn’t realized they were shooting at a woman—or even a person. Bored guards were known for taking potshots at anything that moved in the surrounding forest. Frustration simmered inside him because simply destroying the place wasn’t possible—not with innocent women and children there. There might even be new recruits who hadn’t realized what they’d signed on for. Maybe. He doubted a person would remain ignorant of their purpose for long.
As if she’d heard his violent thoughts, she stiffened in her sleep, her hands twitching, her breathing speeding up. A crease between her brows and her whimpers indicated she wasn’t having a good dream.
Fuck knew, he had the bad kind all too often.
“Frankie,” he murmured. He set his hand on her leg over the blanket, letting the warmth penetrate. Slowly, he glided his palm over her thigh, up and down. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Her breathing halted for a second, before she wakened. Her gaze focused on him—“Bull”—and desire rose in her eyes.
Tempting, tantalizing desire.
Fuck. “Yeah. You’re in my home—and safe. You had a nightmare.”
“I did, only it wasn’t all a dream.” Her voice rose with amusing indignation. “I got shot.”
“So, you did.” He kept stroking slowly. Wishing—as he shouldn’t—that the blanket didn’t cover her bare leg. “Hell of a day, hmm?”
“There’s an understatement.” She turned toward the front windows that faced the lake, and her eyes widened. “It’s dark.”
“It’s after 11:00.” Night had fallen while she’d slept. Enjoying the sunset on the lake, then the moon-shimmer on the snowy mountains, he hadn’t turned on the inside lights. Only the various kitchen electronics provided any light in the house.
When Frankie struggled to sit up, Bull pulled her to a sitting position. And enjoyed the sway of her full breasts under his T-shirt.
Her mouth curved up…because she’d noticed the direction of his gaze.
He shrugged. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be true. You have beautiful breasts.”
Her laugh was low and husky. “Okay, yes. I do.”
Yeah, he really did like her.
“Thank you for insisting that I stay.” She pulled in a long breath that had him checking out those breasts again. “Knowing I could have died… Being here, somewhere safe, let me get past it.”
“That was the plan.” It’d helped him too, knowing nothing would hurt her here. Not with him around. He’d needed that assurance as much as she had.
She leaned forward, running her hand up his shoulder, behind his head, and gave him a straight-forward, heated look. “Thank you. For the rescue. For handling everything and giving me a quiet space to recuperate.”
Her lips pressed against his, warm and soft, opening to him. When he put his arm around her and pulled her close, her body went boneless, letting him have all the control.
She tasted of cinnamon-apple tea as he took the kiss deeper, exploring and teasing, before drawing back.
In the dim light, he could see her eyes were filled with desire, and damn, but he wanted more. Shaking his head, he drew away.
“What?” Her frown was delightful, dark brows together, mouth twisted in an adorable pout.
“Gratitude sex…let’s not go there.” If and when they hooked up, he wanted honest emotions.
Her eyes widened, then she grinned at him. “That kiss was your thank you. Nothing more.”
“A kiss is good. Beats getting a card in the mail.” Cards had been forwarded to him a time or two after hostage rescues.
Her tongue ran over her upper lip. “Um, more kisses would be good.”
“I only rescued you once.”
“Moving on from that…” Her skin darkened with a blush. “Maybe, as two consenting adults, we could possibly indulge in some simple sex with…um, no expectations for anything afterward. With the caveat that nothing intrudes into work.”
“Simple sex.” Nothing about this woman was simple. He studied the sultry look in her dark eyes and admitted that the attraction between them had been there since they met.
He rubbed his lips lightly over hers and murmured, “I could do with some indulging.”
Her lips tipped up with her smile. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her. Invading. Demanding.
She had a luscious mouth.
More.
Rising, he snapped his fingers for Gryff and let the dog out into the grassy shared courtyard. “Go enjoy the evening, buddy.” Closing the door, he flipped the lock and glanced toward the sectional. With the lights off, nothing would be visible from outside.
As Bull rejoined her, Frankie laughed. “Don’t want to corrupt your baby?”
“He’s an innocent li’l pup, all hundred pounds of him.”
“I did notice he was lacking some…equipment,” Frankie said. “Perhaps I should make sure that you haven’t suffered the same fate.”
“We did have people shooting in the forest,” he said in a judicial tone. “It would be best if we performed an inspection for missing or damaged parts.” He pulled her shirt off, sat beside her with one hand behind her back and the other on her breast.
He kissed her.
Sensory overload. Her lips were full and soft. Her breast was full and soft. Both equally appealing. Jesus.
“Mmm. This part seems functional. Let me check the other one.” He cupped her other breast, enjoying the heavy weight on his palm as he kissed down her neck, taking care to miss the scratched spots. “Yes, this one seems to be fine.”
When he ran his thumb around her velvety nipple, she pulled in a shaky breath. Nicely sensitive. Yeah, his mouth needed to be there.
Slipping off the sectional onto his knees, he flattened her on the cushions, hand in her hair. Lowering his head, he licked around one soft nipple, blew a puff of air, and tongued the heady peak.
Ohhhh. When Bull stretched her out on the couch, she felt like a virgin sacrifice on an altar. And as if in response, her naked breasts were throbbing and tingling. He closed his mouth over one aching nipple, and the bloom of lust made her back arch.
He switched to the other breast, rubbing his slightly scratchy goatee against the tender underside before drawing the nipple into his mouth. His mouth was far too skilled.
Her body was melting into a carnal pool. If this was what happened during pagan rituals, she’d volunteer to be tribute. Even though she wasn’t a virgin.
She ran her hands over his head, enjoying the feel of the shaved scalp. Not stubbly, but ever-so-soft skin, like sun-warmed, buttery leather.
Moving up, he kissed her again, even as he teased her nipples with his fingers. “I can report that the above-ground equipment seems to be in good order,” he murmured. When he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, her mind hazed at the pleasure.
“Well.” She blinked, then gripped the back of his T-shirt. “Hold still. I mustn’t slack off on the job.”
He ducked his head, letting her pull the shirt over his head and off.
Oh, santo cielo. Good God, she might not survive this. His body was male perfection, from the strong, corded neck, the smooth bronze expanse of his wide chest, to the hard slab of his ribbed abdomen. One shoulder had a tattoo with an eagle perched on an anchor, clutching a rifle and a trident. The other shoulder had a frog skeleton. A friend’s husband who’d been in the Navy SEALs also had one of those eerie tats. A long scar ran over his upper chest, a circular white one on his lower abdomen.
He was a warrior.
Unable to keep from touching, she flattened her palm against steely pectoral muscles, started to sit up—and winced as her back pulled.
His dark brows drew together. “You’re hurt.”
“No, not really.”
“Frankie.” His voice was a low rumble of warning.
“Fine, my back is a little sore. New York streets aren’t a good preparation for hiking and falling off Alaskan cliffs.”
Even his low chuckle was sexy? “I daresay not. Roll over, sweetheart, onto your belly.”
Ignoring her whine of complaint, he moved her. The cushions were plush against her bare breasts and abdomen, making her very aware that all she wore were her small briefs.
“Stay right there.” He rose. When he returned, the cushion dipped as he sat beside her hip. A second later, his callused palms stroked up on each side of her spine. A sweet scent like tropical fruit wafted through the air, and a second later, heat spread over her skin.
“That feels wonderful.”
“Mmm, the stuff has a warming agent in it.” He pressed gently, at first, easing her muscles, then his powerful hands squeezed the knots, tightening to the point of pain, then releasing.
She moaned as each painful spot relaxed. Slowly, he worked his way down her back, avoiding the bruises.
“You’re great at this,” she murmured.
His laugh was a dark rumbling sound. “When I was a sex-driven young man, Caz said giving a massage was a wonderful way to get a woman’s clothes off and please her as well, and he gave me lessons so I wouldn’t break anyone.”
She snorted because he easily could. Yet his strength and gentleness combined was incredibly arousing. So was his generosity. Despite already being on the way to having sex, he’d put his own desires on hold to make her feel better.
It would be easier if he were ugly.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, che palle, did I say that out loud?”
“’Fraid so.” He was laughing as his hands glided over her skin. “Do you normally have sex with ugly men?””
There was no way to answer that.
When she stayed silent, he rolled her to her back and massaged the front of her shoulders. His dark gaze met hers as he waited for her answer.
“Bull, I don’t…” She sighed. “I don’t really trust good-looking men.”
He blinked, then his eyes sharpened. “Because of your ex who’s a model and undoubtedly handsome?”
“He’s one. There were more.” Just the thought of them made her tense. “One cheated on me. Another stole money. Another man—besides my ex—wanted my influence to get ahead in the business. I know you’re not them, but it’s difficult to fight the feeling that pretty men are all about themselves and no one else.”
She turned her head. As the memories of the betrayals surfaced again, they hurt even more. Her emotions were already scraped raw from the day.
I shouldn’t be here.
Ugly emotions didn’t excuse her behavior. Bull had rescued her, and now, she’d essentially said he was untrustworthy and shallow. How rude and ungrateful could she be? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” She tried to sit up.
His hands tightened on her shoulders, holding her in place…and he resumed gently rubbing her shoulders. “Frankie,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, staring at the back of the sectional. How could she excuse herself gracefully with one foot in her mouth?
He chuckled and cupped her face, turning her head toward him so easily. All those muscles. So damned gorgeous. “Sweetheart, look at me,” he said firmly.
She had no choice.
A line had deepened between his brows, but he showed no anger. His dark eyes studied her. “If you grew up in the business, that’s where your dating pool is from, I bet. Were those gorgeous, shallow men all models or wannabe models?”
Her ex, yes. The rest, mostly yes. “I dated students in college. That’s how I found out that the less…hot…men were nicer.”
“Ah, got it.” He smiled at her. “Might I point out a small flaw in your hypothesis about the character of good-looking men.”
It wasn’t fair that the man was as smart as he was attractive. “All right.”
“Your sampling came from a subset of handsome men. You dated male models, people whose careers are dependent on their appearance. Because of that, a high percentage of models—probably both male and female—likely possess a certain kind of self-centered personality.”
Wait a minute, now. “You mean… What you’re saying is that male models are possibly shallow and untrustworthy, but that might not apply to gorgeous men who aren’t models?”
“It might; it might not. People are…people.” He ran light fingertips over her cheek. “I learned early on not to judge a person by outward appearance. And really, Frankie, women get pissed off when guys judge them on how they look.”
His quiet words felt like a blow because of the accuracy. She’d done exactly what she found so appalling from men. Or even women. If someone said, I don’t date ugly men, Frankie would’ve called her small minded. Stupid, even.
She was the stupid one. “I hate it when someone—besides me—is right. You know that, don’t you?”
He had such a great laugh.
She grumbled under her breath and took a moment to consider her past dating history, seeing the relationships, the men, through a new lens.
“One other thing,” he murmured. He skated his thumb over her lips, making her realize she’d been rubbing her cheek against his wide, hard palm. “Your past is telling your head not to trust me. But you already do, don’t you?”
Damn him. She did. How did that happen? Maybe because he’d saved her from the forest, taken care of her, and been wonderful with his dog, his niece, and the people at work. She’d come to know him better than she realized. He didn’t go for the easy slick choices, didn’t depend on his charm, but…did the work. He was sincere…and careful with people.
“Maybe,” she said, grudgingly. “Yes, all right. I do trust you.”
He rewarded her for her honesty with a kiss. Such a great kiss. Firm, seductive lips turning so hungry and demanding that her senses spun.
She curled her uninjured arm around his shoulder and felt his back muscles flex as he braced himself on one hand and covered her breast with the other. His palm was still slick with the massage oil…and as he teased her nipple, her skin began to tingle and warm.
“What?” She wiggled. “What’s in that stuff?”
“Just something for fun.” He rubbed his nose against hers and kissed her again. “It’s good for sore muscles—and for other areas, as well. Like lady-bits.”
He ran his fingers around her other nipple, tugging it to a point. When he bent and blew air across the jutting peaks, the sensation of heat and the cool air made her toes curl. He cupped a breast in each hand, then squeezed, tightening the skin, so when he circled a nipple with his tongue and suckled, pleasure shocked through her.
“Bull…”
Never slowing, he moved back and forth between her breasts, sucking, teasing, tugging.
Madonna, she might die of pleasure. Moaning, she ran her fingers down his back, over rippling muscles beneath velvet-smooth skin, down the deep furrow of his spine, to his tight buttocks. Mmm. Twisting slightly, she slid a hand between them and under the waistband of his jeans. He was so hard, so thick that there wasn’t any room in there at all. “That must be very uncomfortable.”
He broke out laughing. “Woman, you have no idea.” He sat up and tucked his fingers under the waistband of her briefs and paused to give her a chance to object.
Object? Not hardly. Her whole body wanted those skilled hands on her pussy. She lifted her hips. His smile flashed, and then her briefs were off and tossed onto the coffee table.
He sat back, studying her body with an open appreciation that sent a flush over her skin. “You look delicious in that position.” He ran a finger from her breast, down her stomach, and…down her right thigh.
She glared. Stronzo. Whatever happened to a man going straight for the target? For a change, it was what she really wanted and…he was going to play?
She grabbed his big-boned wrist—her fingers couldn’t even close around it—and moved his hand to her pussy. “There.”
Oh, bad Frankie. Some men felt threatened by—
“There, hmm?” His mouth quirked.
His unshakable self-confidence was even sexier than his body.
He gripped her ankle, lifted her right leg over his head, and set it down in his lap, so he was seated sideways between her thighs. Reaching over to the bottle on the coffee table, he pumped more lotion into his palm. “I forgot. We’re in the middle of a massage.”
Her mouth dropped open. She wanted sex, not a massage.
Smiling slightly, he ran those big hands up and down her thighs, across her stomach, down again—missing her pussy entirely.
She groaned, and her hips tilted up in demand.
“Really?” A corner of his mouth curved.
His fingers were still slick as he moved from her belly down over her mound—and wasn’t she glad she’d shaved that morning? He slid his fingers up and down the plump outer folds, and the skin began to tingle, reminding her of the strange lotion he’d been using. Slowly, he opened her, exposed her, and slid those lotion-coated heavy fingers right over her throbbing clit.
“Aaaah!” Her hips bucked up, and with one hand over her pelvis, he held her down.
Her legs were kept open with his huge body between them, and he circled a finger around her clit. As the lotion heated the swollen tissues, and her sensitive nub began to tingle, she started to squirm. The feeling was…intense.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
Her gaze was caught by his black eyes, held in the same way he held her hips down.
His fingers never stopped moving. Although his hand was so powerful, his touch was light. Teasingly firmer, then only a brush as he drew all the blood, all her focus to that one spot.
Wait, no, making love should be equal. She ran her hands up and down his arms, over his chest and down.
He slid farther away. “Next time. I want you badly enough that I’ll wait.” He grinned. “It’s a guy thing.”
Without waiting for her answer, he bent down, and his lips closed around her. Between the tingling lotion and his mouth, her whole clit seemed to burst into glorious flames.
She cried out, knew she was making noise, and couldn’t stop.
Chuckling, he ran his jaw over the crease between her thigh and pussy, the goatee a rough scrape on the tender skin, then returned to tormenting her. Flicking licks of his tongue alternated with rough suckling.
“More. More, now.” She shot from aroused to urgently needing to come and grabbed for his hair to pull him closer. To make him do what… Her fingers found only warm skin. No reins.
At her frustrated growl, his head came up. His gaze swept over her and filled with amusement.
If he didn’t touch her, she’d die. And he was amused? “You, you bastardo.”
“Not according to my mother, sweetheart.” Watching her face, he slowly slid one finger inside her, sending her right to the brink of orgasm.
She gasped at the overwhelming sensation.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, then bent his head and took her into his mouth, sucking and licking even as his finger slid in and out.
“Oooooh.” The explosion of pleasure was so intense it drove all the air from her lungs. She gasped for air and screamed as she convulsed in a blinding climax.
His finger thrust deeper, sending her over, again and again and again, until she was reduced to quivering jelly.
As she pulled in lungfuls of air, he smiled down at her. “Jesus, I love the way you sound when you come. How you look.” He kissed her mound lightly and moved her leg from around him so he could rise and shed his jeans.
Mmmm. His cock was fully proportional with his size—thick and long and very erect. His balls hung between his legs, potently full.
His wallet was in the coffee table basket, and he slipped out a condom and sheathed himself.
Easing himself down, he settled on his knees between her thighs, lifted her hand, and curled her fingers around his cock. Cazzo, he was big. He made a low rumbling sound of enjoyment when she tightened her grip and gave an experimental pump.
His gaze assessed her expression. “You all right with continuing, Ms. Bocelli? We can stop now if you want.”
She snorted and answered by pulling his cock toward her.
His laugh rang through the room. “All right then.” Setting a hand beside her shoulder to brace his weight, he used the other hand to set his cock at her entrance and slicken the head. “I love how wet you are for me.”
His deep voice, his care for her comfort added layers of excitement. Her arousal rose under his touch, his voice.
Slowly, he worked his way in, inexorably stretching her, filling her until her whole lower half throbbed with excitement.
“You feel amazing, city girl.” Bull kept a firm grip on his control, enjoying the little sounds she was making—the tiny inhalation as he pushed deeper, the almost inaudible moan as he withdrew. Yeah, it’d be far too easy to shoot before he was ready—and he intended to take his time and savor this moment.
Damn, he enjoyed her—her courage, sure, but also her sense of humor, her ability to laugh at herself, her kindness to Gryff. How she talked to Hawk without acting afraid. The way she lost herself in her orgasm with a scream. Fuck, he’d almost come right then like a horny teen.
He pressed in, slow and sure, going balls-deep until she was a hot, tight fist around him. And he felt her tighten her pelvic muscles to make it even better for him, because that was the type of woman she was—as generous with giving as she was enthusiastic in receiving.
Braced on one arm, he cupped one lush breast with his free hand, plumping it, kneading it, smiling as her muscles clenched around his dick. Sensitive breasts were his favorite. “The way you feel around me is fucking wonderful.”
The corners of her mouth tipped up, and he could see the pleasure in her big brown eyes.
Slowly, he started to move in and out, enjoying the slick feel of her cunt around him. Her nipple jutted into a peak in his hand.
He moved faster, harder, keeping a careful eye on her. He was big—yeah, no denying it—and it was worth taking a little extra time to ensure a woman was ready. But her hips were rising, meeting him with every thrust.
The sound of sex, wet and slapping, filled the room. Her face was flushed, eyelids at half-mast, as she ran her hands over his chest.
Close, but not quite there, and he’d give his next breath to see her come again. Fuck, he’d never seen anything sexier, and he damn well wanted to be inside her this time.
Let’s take a bit of control from her.
Releasing her breast, he lifted her left leg, setting it on his shoulder and holding it there—eliminating her ability to move or lift her hips. Forcing her to take what he had to give. As he drove harder, he watched her swallow, saw her color deepen, her nipples bunch tighter.
Her eyes closed as the muscles of her torso tensed. A thrust, another, and then her neck arched as she went over. Her cunt squeezed his cock, released, squeezed as she came in waves and “ohh, ohh, ohh, fuck, ohhhhh,” filled the room with her gorgeous voice.
The fantastic buffeting around his dick shoved him right over the edge. With a low roar, he slammed into her, deep, deeper, as heat engulfed his balls, then his cock, and he came with hard pleasurable jets.
Jesus fuck.
He pulled in some air, then gently lowered her leg to wrap around his waist. She did the same with her other leg and drew him even closer, holding him inside her with the same generosity that she made love.
Easing himself down on one elbow, he brushed her hair from her damp face and traced a finger around her swollen mouth. “Sweetheart. That was amazing.”
Under his touch, her lips curved up. “Hmm. It was…pretty good. Maybe we should go again, so I can be sure.”
He burst out laughing and hugged her to him. “We will definitely have to go again and see.”
It was well past dawn.
Frankie was curled up against Bull’s side in his bed, drowsing off and on from the last bout of sex. When they’d come upstairs to his bedroom, he hadn’t closed the wide doors that overlooked the living room below and had a view out the two stories of windows facing the lake. As the rising sun turned the snow on the distant mountains to golds and pinks, he’d woken her, reminding her she’d asked for a repeat. His hands had already been busy, and she’d been far too aroused to protest.
The slow, sweet, sensual second time had been even better than the first, leaving her feeling as if her body had melted into syrup.
Sleepily, she skated her palm over the warm satin of his chest, feeling the hardness of the muscles beneath. His arm tightened around her in an affectionate squeeze.
In the corner, Gryff lay in a big cushy dog bed, his fluffy tail over his nose.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bull murmured.
“It is, isn’t it? And you have such a beautiful—quiet—view. I can’t believe the lakeshore isn’t crowded with houses.”
“That’s because we own most of it. We wanted enough land that the sarge wouldn’t feel crowded.”
“The sarge?”
“Ah, he was basically our adopted father—and a recluse and paranoid as all get out.” Bull smiled slightly. “He raised us in an off-the-grid cabin, but when we all left, we talked him into moving here where he’d be closer to his friend Dante. It turned out that Dante had bought a lot of lakefront property when land was cheap, and he was eager to sell us this side. My brothers and I pitched in to buy it and build here, so we could be near the sarge when time allowed.”
“You miss him.”
After a long moment, Bull sighed. “Yeah. We’re combat vets and know how short life can be, but we never expected him to die. He always seemed indestructible.”
Grief. Why did the sound of it in his deep voice pull on her heartstrings? “I’m sorry, honey.”
He smiled, then his eyes seemed to darken. “Speaking of dying, do you want to tell me more about your trip to the PZs yesterday?”
“No, I think my curiosity about them was satisfied.” And that was all she was going to say about it. She couldn’t lie to him and didn’t want to.
Besides, she was just someone he’d had a nice bout of sex with. No entanglements, remember? She could hardly tell him the truth and ask for help. There was no way to predict how he’d react. He might well ignore Kit’s objections and call in the FBI and cops.
She could handle this. Her desire to have someone hold her hand while cutting a fence could get Kit and Aric killed.
Bull didn’t make the obvious comment—that curiosity had almost killed this cat. When she checked his face, his gaze was far more thoughtful than she liked. Not surprising, really. Under that good-natured, sociable front was a frighteningly intelligent man.
With a fingertip, he traced a scratch so lightly that it barely hurt as if to remind her of the danger she’d been in. “I think there’s more to it than curiosity…but you don’t know me that well, do you?”
A much better subject to pursue.
“Not exactly. For all I know, you could be a serial killer who’s leaving corpses all over the mountainsides.” She gave him a half-smirk. “Maybe I was out there searching for all those dead bodies.”
His dimple appeared for a second, but then he ran his fingers through her hair, moving the heavy strands to fall down her back. “When you’re ready to share the rest, I’ll be here. Ready to listen.”
She wanted to share. To tell him everything. And couldn’t.
At the burn of tears in her eyes, she hastily slid out of bed. “It’s morning. I should get moving. My shift starts early today.”
“Frankie.” He lifted those black eyebrows, his gaze steady. “You’re going to be too sore to carry trays. You’ll have the next two nights off from work. Stay.”
But if she didn’t leave right now, they’d probably do…sexy stuff…in that bed. And that was the problem.
Cazzo, she knew this would happen—that she’d start feeling all emotionally vulnerable and get attached. Just because of a few orgasms. And the way he felt inside her. That deep voice calling her sweetheart. His hand on her face. Those black eyes and…
No, no, no. Casual sex. Nothing more. She needed to concentrate on getting Kit out of that place. He was a distraction she couldn’t afford.
“I have lots of other stuff that must be done.” She pulled on her clothes, still astounded he’d not only washed everything for her yesterday, but had managed to get all the blood out, as well.
He rose from the bed, intimidating in size, yet so very tempting. Because she knew the feeling of his fingers on her skin, the taste of his mouth, his skin, his—
“Let me make you breakfast.” He adjusted her shirt sleeve, easing it over the bandage on her arm.
“No, no, thank you. I need to get home.” She wanted to settle her feelings, get past the sadness that this was all there could be.
She forced a smile. “This was a one-time thing, remember? No complications or entanglements. No expectations for anything afterward.” She bent to pet Gryff, taking comfort in the soft fur and wagging tail. Dogs were so straightforward.
When she straightened, Bull had pulled on a pair of jeans and stood watching her.
She hadn’t noticed before, but when he didn’t smile, he appeared dangerous—like the soldier he’d been. She drew in a breath. “Thank you for the rescue and one wonderful night away from reality.”
When he nodded, she knew he’d caught her meaning—that they were back in the real world. She had Kit and Aric to rescue. After that, well, her home was in New York as was her job and her responsibilities.
This night…had been just a dream.