And then suddenly, he was beside her, in the booth facing her, his expression etched with tenderness…and something that almost resembled guilt. “I should have talked to you before I left. I should have made sure you didn’t feel that kind of fear and guilt. You didn’t run me off, Shay. The Army was in my blood—I knew that before I started college and I knew afterward. I always knew it was where I belonged.”
But not with her, she thought, not with her family. “Then why are you here now? Why did you even come home?”
He hesitated. “Shay—”
His hesitation said everything. “Because you didn’t have a choice,” she said tightly, turning to face him fully, arm on the table, back to the wall. “Something happened. Something that forced you out.”
His lips thinned, telling her before his words that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “If I hadn’t been ready to get out,” he said, “I wouldn’t have.”
“What happened?” she asked tightly.
“Yes, there was an issue. I helped bring a corrupt person to justice. Something I couldn’t do when he had the ability to influence my missions. I could have transferred, but the Flying Aces—my unit—was it for me.”
Why was this bothering her? Had she really believed in some far off corner of her mind that he’d come back for her? It was silly, but it was there, a part of her subconscious that had whipped its ugly, irrational head into full view.
She turned toward the table, and he took her hand, stalling her movement. But she didn’t give him time to say whatever he was going to say. “Months and months would pass, and we had no idea if you were alive.” Eight long months the year before last. “I hate you for making me worry. Us. Making us worry.”
“I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed her jaw, a gentle caress that sent chills down her spine. “I’m here now,” he said. “I could have gone anywhere in the world, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Shay.” He laced his fingers with hers. “And I’m done hiding from a kiss. We were kids when it happened. And I believed, back then, if we’d pursued something more, we would have done nothing but destroy each other—and our family—in the process. We had everything to lose by acting on our attraction.” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “But we’re not kids anymore.”
“And yet so little has changed,” she said.
“Hasn’t it?”
The jukebox started playing a soft Keith Urban tune. He smiled. “Let’s dance.” And before she could reply, he tugged her forward.
“Dance?” she murmured, looking for a dance floor she’d missed. Where the heck were they going to dance?
The answer was soon evident as he drew her to a halt in the dimly lit deserted corner just beyond the jukebox and a vacant pool table. A good ways from the few lone pool players at a distant table.
His hands settled on her waist. Firm. Possessive. Strong. Objections faded on her tongue, the words of the song that had enticed them to the dance floor forgotten. In their place, other reasons hummed through her mind, explaining why this dance was okay. They were in public. There were people nearby. A dance was a moment in time in the broad picture of things.
But as the stark desire in his expression mingled with the heady male scent of him, which invaded her senses, seducing her, a spell overcame her—a spell where reason didn’t breathe, let alone live. A spell that expanded in time, yet felt like only a split second—a second gone too fast.
They stood there, unmoving, staring at one another. His hand slid to her back, gently urging her closer. Their legs aligned, then entwined, intimately placing her hips against his. Shay swallowed hard at the instant heat swirling low in her stomach, and her gaze dropped to his chest, to where her hands rested.
Slowly, her fingers splayed wide on the hard muscle. This was happening. She was touching him, was with him, in his arms, and neither of them was saying no. It was so surreal—it was almost an out-of-body experience. Except her body most definitely wanted in on this action.
Shay slowly slid her hands upward, his body heat warming her palms, and her gaze lifted to his. Her fingers laced at his neck, her chest naturally arching more intimately into his. Their bodies began to sway, the song—another song—slow still, filling the air, but she didn’t hear the words. Shay didn’t see the room. But neither could she maintain their stare, not when the intensity of what he did to her was downright unnerving.
Shay pressed her head to his chest, heard the rapid beat of his heart, as surely as she felt the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach. He was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Everything had changed.