“Thank you for being here,” she said softly.
His heart thudded quicker. She wanted him here?
My American Rambo is exactly the type of man who could settle me down.
Was there any fairy tale world where she could mean that line, and he could act on it? What was happening in his head right now? It was swirling with all kinds of ideas. He was half a second away from pinning her against the wall, kissing her desperately, and then slowing the moment down and seeing what it would feel like to touch her face, her neck, her hair …
He’d have to stop there, or he’d land himself in hot water he’d never get out of. Cold water. He liked cold water. The half-frozen lake just outside sounded very appealing right now.
“If the Deltas hadn’t suggested and sent for you, I’m afraid my dad would’ve forced me to have Blaine by my side.”
His stomach curdled at that and his fists clenched, bringing him back to reality. Reality didn’t feel as good as his visions had. He tried to unclench his fists and rubbed at the back of his neck.
“I realize you’re here for your loyalty to the Deltas, and I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you’ll be compensated generously. But I am very grateful for you being here, whatever the reason.”
“Compensated?” His brow squiggled. What was she talking about? Addressing that question was easier than accepting her gratitude.
“Paid,” she clarified, as if he didn’t know what compensated meant.
“I understand compensation, but I’m here because the Deltas asked me to be. I don’t need or want …” Her money? Her dad’s money? It didn’t matter. He rarely spent any money besides the small home he’d bought and fixed up near home base in Virginia Beach and his Harley-Davidson Switchback FLD. He made plenty of money with the SEALs and his earnings from his axes.
“You didn’t know?” She peered into his eyes, as if trying to guess if he was lying. “You volunteered to give up your Christmas to protect some woman you’d never met simply because the Deltas asked? You had to know you were getting paid.”
He wasn’t about to tell her he wouldn’t have even noticed Christmas if he wasn’t in this picturesque valley. Sure, Preach would invite him over for Christmas dinner and Preach’s wife, Ally, would have a present for him, but he’d be the intruder on their family time. Being with the Deltas was as appealing as anything.
Not anything. Nothing was as appealing as she was.
“I’m not doing this for the money,” he said firmly.
“Well, you’re going to receive it regardless of if you want it or not.”
He liked how she didn’t back down. How brave she was. “I guess I’ll donate it to the Warrior Project, then.”
“Nice. Of course you would. You’re singularly impressive, Rambo. In many more ways than your sculpted muscles.” She looked him over and heat erupted inside his chest. He wanted to be impressive to her.
He smiled at her, and she returned it. He had a vision of him easing into her space, cupping her smooth cheek with his hand, telling her she was impressive, and then leaning down and kissing her. If her touching his hand had felt as good as it had, what would happen if he kissed her?
He blinked to clear his vision and studied the fireplace. He needed some distance from the odd desires building inside him for this far-too-appealing woman. It was completely dark outside, but only seven-thirty. It would be a long night if he couldn’t screw his head on straight and keep away from her.
“I’m going to …”
He grasped for something, anything to do. There was a flat screen television on the wall. They could watch a movie. Downtime wasn’t something he excelled at. There were books stacked on the end tables. He knew there were a lot more books in the admiral’s study, but if he walked back out of this room, he’d definitely be fighting Lewis. He wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t want to upset Mia. That alone worried him. He cared deeply about his men—they were his family. But worrying about somebody’s … feelings … wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
“Study the information from the other women’s cases,” he finally finished. That was good. He wanted to do that, needed to do that. Needed to look for patterns, ways the stalker found the women. Keeping Mia safe. That was the assignment. Not kissing her. Where had those unfamiliar visions come from, anyway?
“Okay.” She smiled up at him. “I’d love to look over them with you.”
His eyes widened, and he found he had no excuse not to let her besides … “Are you sure you want to? That could be disturbing where you’re a target.”
“I’m made of tougher stitching than that, Rambo,” she said sharply, her golden-brown eyes darkening and getting all feisty and appealing.
He held up his hands, and he shouldn’t have smiled, but he couldn’t help it. “Forgive me. I can see that you are.”
“Well, don’t forget it.” She instinctively reached out for his hand, but seemed to think better of it and tilted her head instead. He had no idea why he felt disappointed she hadn’t touched him. “The sofa?” she prompted.
He blew out a breath and followed her to the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. That was not a sofa. It might be termed a loveseat. Very loosely termed a loveseat. A more correct description was a chair and a half.
She sat on the right edge, obviously pushing herself into the space, and patted the spot next to her.