By Honor Bound (13 page)

For days after their meeting, she wondered what made him so different from other soldiers she’d met.

“Earth to Jemma.”Blayne’s deep voice cut her reverie.

“Oh…um, sorry.” She swallowed and licked her dry lips. “What were you saying?”

“I said thanks for the compliment earlier. You took me by surprise.”

“Women don’t compliment you?”

 “Not very often.”

“I don’t know too many men who would enjoy being called cute.”

“Well, cute is a bit…” He shrugged as if he couldn’t think of the right word.

She took a bite of egg so she wouldn’t have to reply right away. After she chewed and swallowed she said, “Not macho enough?”

He winked. “You said it.”

Silence came again except for the clanking of their utensils.

Blayne took a long swing of coffee and then leaned on the table. “Why did you insist on helping me today?”

Her thoughts poured free and she almost said,
Because I want to get you alone. I want you naked so I can touch every inch of your no doubt gorgeous body and explore to my heart’s content.
Or, if she felt really frisky,
Let me lick you from head to toe. How does that sound?

In an effort to hide her flustered state, she pushed her plate back and stirred cream into her coffee. “I wasn’t going to let you maybe have an accident on the way home.”

His gaze kept her pinned, as if he feared she’d get away. “Thanks.”

All teasing left his gaze and heat eased his eyes into melting dark chocolate. Almost black, his eyes trapped and wouldn’t release her. As she inhaled deeply she caught his musk and sandalwood scent again and it teased her in a forbidden, exciting way.

“You’re welcome.” She had to get her thoughts back on track instead of mooning over him like a teenager. “How are you feeling now?”

“Great, thanks to you.” He leaned back, sliding down until his head was propped on the chair back. He sighed and closed his eyes. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

She stood and took their plates to the kitchen. After rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher, she came back to the table. “I’d better go. You need some rest.”

His eyes popped open, and though he looked tired, his voice came strong and sure. “Please, don’t go. Stay awhile and talk.”

Surprised, she stared at him for some time without answering.

He grinned. “Come on. I promise I don’t bite.”

She couldn’t help it; a soft snort of laughter parted her lips. “Right. Sure you don’t.”

He gave her a mocking frown. “I’m harmless. If old ladies and little puppies can trust me, so can you.”

“Okay, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the couch? You could stretch out.”

“Damned if that doesn’t sound good.”

She settled into a cozy dark blue chenille recliner almost across from the matching sofa. An oblong glass-topped coffee table sat between the chair and couch. Once he’d taken off his boots and stretched out on the couch, the man looked mouthwatering sprawled in careless abandon.

His tall body, muscled to perfection, tantalized her imagination. When he stretched one arm over his head, his sweater inched up. A strip of naked flesh came into view. Muscled and flat, his stomach was covered by a sprinkle of dark hair. Her gaze coasted down to the generous bulge in his jeans.

God, if his cock is that big without an erection—

Her entire body tightened in sensual appreciation and wicked thoughts kicked in with a vengeance. Somehow she knew, with soul-deep certainty, that this man would be a ravenous, highly sensual, fantastic lover. She shivered and not from the cold. He would caress, soft and sure, bringing her to heights of ecstasy she’d never experienced. Would the first time he made love to her be fast and hard, or soul-stirringly slow? Jemma didn’t have to guess that no matter how fast or slowly he took her, Blayne would drive her to levels of arousal that would make it easy to accept his generous cock deep inside. She visualized how she would feel if he wedged his steel-hard erection into her.

She gulped.

Her gaze snapped up to his and a lazy, sensual smile touched his mouth. “So what do you think?”

Oh, man. Had he realized she’d been ogling his package?
She cleared her throat. “About what?”

“About anything. You’re sitting there looking nervous and earlier you seemed at ease. What’s wrong?”

She should have known he’d be sharp as hell. She’d heard from Graham that Blayne spoke Arabic and German fluently, and he’d somehow managed to obtain his Master’s Degree in International Relations between missions. Not any easy thing to do considering his occupation.

“Nothing is wrong.” She shifted and tried to relax. She allowed her left hand to finger the chair arm. The soft texture beneath her fingers soothed her nerves. “So why are you back from the Middle East?”

His expression altered, eyes glittering with slow-boiling anger. “Bureaucracy is one reason. I hurt my knee, but not enough to send me back to the United States.” He took a deep breath and some of his ire seemed to ease. “Then I got the flu.”

Jemma frowned, sensing immediately something wasn’t right. “You’re right. That doesn’t seem to be enough reason to separate you from your unit and send you stateside.”

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, then sat up and leaned against the arm of the couch. He kept his legs up on the couch. “How has life been treating you?”

She figured his blatant subject change meant he didn’t want to explain the whys and wherefores of his return to the United States. Curious, but willing to go along, she allowed him to shift gears. “Frankly,” she said, “things have been a little boring lately. I need to get a life.”

Blayne cocked one eyebrow. “Why? I thought your legal assistant job and your volunteer work at the art museum was enough.”

Surprise made Jemma pause. “You remembered about the museum?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

Why indeed? She shrugged. “Not many men remember that much about me, I don’t think.”

“They must be idiots. How could they forget
anything
about you?” His voice turned husky. “From the first time I met you, Jemma, you made an impression on me.”

Stunned, she allowed his clear admiration to absorb. Despite her resolution she couldn’t become involved with him, his blatant appreciation pulled her heart closer and closer to him. “Was that a good or bad impression?”

“Very good.” Again he stretched and looked ready to fall asleep. “When I first met you I was curious. Graham told me what a great sister you were. Then when I saw you…well…I wanted to know everything about you.”

A little surprised, she asked, “Graham said I was a great sister?”

He grinned. “He thinks the world of you.”

Deep inside the gratification felt good, although she wished Graham could say the words to her face. Then again, Graham had trouble expressing what he felt when it came to family. Instead he tried to show his affection through deeds.

“You’d rather he tell you face-to-face,” Blayne said.

Startled by his dead-on-to-rights assessment, she narrowed her eyes. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. How did you know?”

Another heart-melting grin touched his mouth. “My mother and sisters trained me. I remember to say I love you on a regular basis.”

I love you.

Her heart did a flop, a stutter and triple-timed. Not even the guys who’d tried to coax her into bed had claimed to love her. The very idea of Blayne saying those words to her made her heart pound. On the other hand, the concept of him declaring his feelings to another woman, a woman he wanted in his life forever, made her stomach clench with unwanted jealousy. Floundering for a suitable answer, her mind seemed to turn to jelly.

Humor, girl. Try humor.

“That’s good to know,” she said. “That you can be trained, I mean.”

The words came out sounding more taunting, more challenging than she wanted. He sat up and swung his feet off the couch.

With a sleepy-eyed expression that looked too damned sexy, he said, “No one can train me unless I want to be trained. I control my destiny.”

She crossed her legs and pondered how they’d jumped into the cavern-deep side of the ocean so fast. “That sounds like a heavy subject.”

“Don’t you believe people have ultimate responsibility for themselves?”

Jemma frowned. “Why do I feel like we’ve catapulted straight into something far more serious than training?”

She worried how he’d take her statement. He’d either find it too obtuse or believe she mocked him.

“That’s the bottom line, Sweets. We’re in control. For example, you’ve decided your life is boring right now. But you’re the only one who can change it from boring to the best life you’ve ever had.”

She nodded. “Got the book, wore the T-shirt. You’re preaching to the choir here, Blayne. When I said I needed to get a life, I meant I would have to do the work.”

His own nod held solid affirmation. “Good.” He leaned forward and his forearms rested on his thighs. “What about you? Can you be trained?”

The heat in his tone assured Jemma he meant the double entendre. Excitement entered her veins as she absorbed the electricity jumping between them. She could almost feel the anticipation pumping. A sensual ache started deep inside, moistening her with arousal. Her nipples tightened into sensitive points.

Okay, she’d play along. She flipped her hair over her shoulders. “To do what?”

“Reveal your secrets.”

“I don’t have any secrets.”

“Yeah, right. Everyone has secrets.”

She felt like she’d plunged right into a
Truth or Dare
game. “Okay, I’ll bite. But watch out. When I bite it can be very painful.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted. “I think I like the sound of that.” His chest rose and fell, the deep inhalation and exhalation catching her attention. “What is your deepest secret, Jemma?”

She wondered if she’d made a mistake. If she let him in on her biggest secret he’d probably run in the other direction. A smile touched her lips. On the other hand, she doubted he’d ever run from anything in his life.

No, she couldn’t tell him the biggest secret…that she wanted his body so much she could barely keep her hands off him. But she could tell him a little one. “My life is a pretty open book. Nothing too exciting has happened to me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it. When I was about five I was a kleptomaniac.”

A startled laugh burst from him. “What?”

She blushed. “I was a little thief. For about two weeks I stole erasers out of a couple of kids’ desks.”

He grinned. “Why?”

“Beats me. I still can’t believe I did it and got away with it. I stopped doing it partially because I was ashamed and because I figured I’d get caught.”

“So you punished yourself rather than let anyone else do it. Sounds like good impulse control.”

“You could say that. I never did it again.” She frowned. “I’ve never told anyone about it until now.”

His smile remained, albeit smaller. Instead his intent, caressing look said he not only liked what he saw, but liked what he’d heard. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

For some reason telling him a little secret, an itty-bitty confession she’d never revealed before, made her feel closer to him. “Whatever you do, don’t tell my brothers.”

Blayne had met her other brother, Davis, last Christmas before Davis had taken a U.S. Marshall assignment in Denver.

A mischievous glimmer entered his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell them yourself?”

“Are you kidding? They’d tease me unmercifully.”

“Isn’t that what brothers are for?”

Wondering about his first cousin and adopted sister Polly and his other sister Anne made her ask, “Have you tortured your sisters with their past indiscretions?”

“Indiscretions. Now that’s an intriguing way to put it. You make it sound old-fashioned.”

She sighed and then smiled. “Sue me. I’ve been told I’m a little old-fashioned.”

This time his grin held pure disbelief. “I don’t believe that.”

“Really. I had this guy at a bar tell me I looked like a schoolteacher.”

Once again his gaze danced over her, as if he liked surveying her at every opportunity. “What do schoolteachers look like anyway?”

“That’s what I asked him. He said I appeared staid and pure.” She shook her head and her thick hair fell like a blanket across her shoulders.

Doubt entered his expression. “The guy must be nuts. Your hair reminds me more of fire. Brilliant, hot fire.” His voice dropped, warming her insides with the heat-laced tone. “More like Lady Godiva.”

Her mouth popped open in surprise. “Blayne.”

She tried to remember if a man’s attention had ever made her feel this special, this flustered. No. Only Blayne could send her out of control, his notice a precious gift.

“The idiot needed to have his head rearranged,” he said. “Was he a soldier?”

“How did you know?”

He clasped his hands together. “A lucky guess. This town boasts about three times as many men as women. There’s a good chance single women in a bar are going to run into a soldier.” His gaze hardened. “Wait a minute. How long ago did you meet this guy and are you going out with him?”

With any other man Jemma might have resented his inquisition. Instead she heard an edge in his voice that rocked her foundations.

Jealousy and protectiveness. And damn it all, she liked it.

Boldness reared inside her, something that seemed to happen the longer she stayed near Blayne. “Why do you want to know?”

His face tightened a little, then she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

His bashfulness, so unlike the self-assured man she knew, made her heart melt. “You’re right, it’s none of your business. What I want to know is why you asked it in the first place. Men always think they know me better than I know myself.”

He nodded. “So they can impress you enough to get you into bed.”

“Maybe.”

It happened so fast she didn’t have time to think. He rose from the couch and walked toward her, his movement smooth.