Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(28)
Author: Catherine Mann

“The breakup still left its mark on you.”

He stayed silent, his eyes locked on John Wayne on the flat-screen TV, kicking ass and taking names—while still winning Maureen O’Hara at the end. Thinking about how hard that last breakup hit him was one thing. Saying it out loud? He swallowed hard.

“You loved her?”

“Yes, I loved her.”

“And now?” she pressed, keeping her voice so low it was barely even a whisper.

“I wasn’t the right guy to make her happy.”

“Or she wasn’t the right person to make you happy.”

He looked over at her sharply. Again, she hadn’t just assumed it was his fault, a three-time loser at happily ever after.

Christ, this woman was drawing him right in, making him want everything all over again even when he knew losing her would leave him gutted in the end. And for him, it always ended. Damn it, he’d gone into this conversation looking for a libido killer, and even after trotting it all out, he still wanted Rachel.

He untangled himself from her and shoved to his feet, away from her and the urge to peel her clothes off, stretch her out on the sofa, and likely propose before the orgasms faded. “You should get some sleep. Take the first bedroom on the right. There’s a guard outside the window. I’ll be out here asleep on the couch.”

***

Rachel wished she could sleep.

She was exhausted all the way to the roots of her hair. But sometime after she’d changed into generic exercise shorts and a T-shirt with an air force logo, she’d found her second wind. All the same, she forced her body to rest, stretching out on the four-poster bed and hugging an itchy, fat pillow sham.

The ringing in her ears grew louder by the second, so loud it almost drowned out Disco’s light snores from across the room, where he sprawled asleep in front of the door. She stared out the half-open miniblinds at the shifting shadows outside. A squat palm tree shook like a pom-pom in the wind. A welcome flag flapped from a porch rail.

And a reed-thin figure sat in the A-frame swing in the front yard. The guard, pretending to be hanging around outside for a smoke. A tiny red light moved from side to side with each puff. Not a bad cover, so those passing by wouldn’t notice anything out of the way. Did the neighborhood realize exactly what this house was used for? Of course the same question could be asked of any safe house in any community—military or civilian.

Liam had come through for her. She was safe and Brandon’s concerns were being investigated. Brandon would be looked after.

And who would look after Liam?

Her eyes slid closed as she thought back to their kiss in the Jeep, so much better to think about than what they’d been through that led them to the kiss. The way he had of distracting her from everything was scary and tantalizing. Always had been, even back when she’d first known him during those frenetic weeks in the Bahamas…

An aftershock rattled the ground clear up through her toes until it rattled her teeth and her nerves after an endless day on the pile, searching for survivors in the rubble. She tossed down her toiletries, tossing aside all hopes of a bath as well. She snagged up Disco’s leash and he trotted into step alongside her as she ran for the door, bursting out onto the beach cabin porch, down the steps.

The narrow street filled with rescue workers and locals, pouring from the houses left standing—or half standing. The structure next door tilted at an angle toward the seaside cliff. And big buff guys pushed through the door, angling sideways to get out ASAP.

Big buff guys wearing nothing but towels, shower time apparently interrupted.

Her eyes locked on one guy in particular. The major she’d met earlier, when she’d first arrived. The ground settled under her feet and she breathed easy enough to allow herself a more leisurely look. She didn’t date or even hook up very often, but this guy had been a serious temptation from the get-go, even fully clothed in grimy camo.

And now, seeing him in nothing more than an insubstantial bit of white terry cloth? Ho-ly cow, he was hot, hot, hot at a time when she could seriously use a distraction. His dark blond hair was even browner, glistening wet from a shower. His chest was like carved bronze muscle. He seemed totally unself-conscious that he stood in the middle of the road wearing nothing more than leather flip-flops and a towel.

She couldn’t resist teasing him, since she didn’t dare touch him. Not out here, and not before she figured out if he was affair material.

“Lose your clothes, Major?” She stood beside her black Lab, leash in hand. Her grimy cargo pants and body-hugging T-shirt stuck to her after a long day working.

Her dog started sniffing the edge of Liam’s towel suspiciously, all seventy pounds of pooch tensed, hackles rising along the canine’s spine.

“It’s not my clothes I’m worried about right now, ma’am. Think you can get your dog to let go of my towel?”

“Disco?” She thumbed the clicker in her hand and her dog dropped to his haunches. “Good boy.”

“Thanks.”

“And Major?”

“Yeah?”

“You may want to invest in a larger towel.” She clapped him on his bare shoulder matter-of-factly before striding past, toward the cabana next door.

His eyes lingered on her the whole way. She could feel his stare, feel how still he stood rooted to the spot for a solid five seconds, watching her walk away. Her ponytail, gathered high and haphazardly on top of her head, swished with each step, teasing her shoulders like a phantom touch. The way she imagined Liam’s touch would be if she indulged…

Groaning, Rachel hugged the pillow tighter against an ache that had started growing six months ago. She’d convinced herself he was the kind of guy she could have an affair with, some uncomplicated, easy sex. Except then he’d shocked the hell out of her by saying he was falling in love with her.

As if she believed that. His track record with women didn’t bode well for longevity. Which should have been a plus, but there was something so… intense and real in his eyes, in spite of his jokes and grins. The things he’d shared with her tonight, the intensity and hurt in his voice, had made her question her preconceived notions about how he charmed his way through chicks. Even now, she could feel the tension rippling through him as she sat pressed to his side. He confused her and aroused her and tugged at her heart all at once.

She knew one thing for sure. Nothing with Liam would ever be uncomplicated or easy.

***

Scanning the street, Liam approached Sylvia on the swing with a low whistle to alert her he was approaching. Wouldn’t want her to shoot him, even though she was the one who’d texted him to come outside.