Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (11 page)

“I’d love to go there someday,” she said wistfully. “It sounds perfect.”

“Well, if you’re coming my way for a visit, I’ll let you show me your family’s ranch in return. The place sounds pretty magical to me.”

Warmth settled in her heart. “I’d like that.” And she would. Just being around Beau melted all her resolve and the shields she hid behind. He made everything seem possible.

She changed the subject. “You seemed really confident when you came in here.”

“In our training, especially undercover work, we have to be familiar with every kind of scenario.” He smiled a little. “Back home we have a knife, fork, and spoon.” He gestured to the place setting before him. “Here? You get a gazillion different pieces of flatware. In training, we were taught which one to pick up and use first. We have to know wines and food as well.”

“Then,” Callie confided, “you can help me out, because I’ve never seen this much silverware in my life!”

He reached out, placing his hand briefly over hers. “I have your back, gal.”

Just the way he said “gal” with that roughened drawl made Callie swear he was a magician, using his touch, his gray gaze, his boyish smile, to weave a spell inside her, one of hunger combined with need. “Thanks. I hate embarrassing myself in public.”

“I know. Me, too.”

She asked, “What else do you know about me? And don’t pretend to be dumb, because you Delta guys are the smartest of the lot. I know you study me, Beau. Sometimes I can actually feel it.”

He placed his hand over the back of the booth, his arm inches from her shoulders. “Does it bother you?”

“No. But I can feel when you’re doing it.”

“I can’t help myself, Callie. You’re one beautiful woman. Sometimes at the orphanage I’ll see you do something, and I’ll watch the play of light against your hair or skin. I think how pretty you are, whether I’m seeing your profile or a full-face view. And of course, I’m captured by your hair, but I think you already know that.”

“You’re just like Matt Culver,” she teased. “He loves Dara’s blond hair down, too.”

He reached up and placed one finger lightly on her hair and moved a strand away from her eyes. “Can you blame us?”

It was such a gossamer touch, but it was driving her crazy because she desperately wanted Beau to touch her more. “No,” she said, a little breathless, “I can’t. I know that guys like women with long hair.”

A waitress from the bar came over and delivered their bottle of wine and two glasses, and then poured a little in one for Beau to taste.

“Here, you’re our official wine taster,” he said, sliding it over to Callie. “Tell her what you think of it.”

Delighted that he was making her an equal partner in this enterprise, Callie tasted it and nodded to the woman that it was fine. The waitress poured the wine and left. A busboy came by, delivering a basket of freshly baked artisan bread and some warm zucchini muffins.

Beau handed her the basket. “You first.”

“I know what you want,” she said, giving him an amused look.

“Oh? Which do you think I want?”

“The muffins. I’ll let you have them.”

“You’re pretty good,” Beau congratulated her after she took some dark bread and pulled over the butter dish. “Guess I’m pretty transparent.”

“More than you know,” Callie said, meeting his smile.

*

After dinner, Beau
asked Callie, “Are you ready to dance?” They had both ordered steak with a baked potato, sour cream, and butter. Callie had turned down dessert, but Beau had asked for the hot apple pie. It had been delicious, but he declared that it couldn’t touch the one his ma made. The vanilla ice cream, however, was outstanding.

Callie wiped her lips with the napkin. “I’m stuffed, Beau. I’ll probably go out there and waddle around.”

He chuckled. “Now, come on,” he said, and slipped out of the booth, extending his hand toward her. “Just try one dance. If you don’t like it we can skip a second one.”

“I’m going to be rusty,” she laughed, preparing him for the worst.

“Okay, then. We’ll be rusty together,” he promised, his hand on her back, leading her to the other end of the restaurant.

Beau made it so easy to slip into his arms, and the music was soft and romantic. There were at least fifteen other couples on the wide dance floor. Callie felt comfortable but was glad there were other dancers around them so she wouldn’t stand out like the klutz she was. She might be graceful and confident as a belly dancer but ballroom dancing was pretty much foreign to her. The moment Beau’s hand wrapped gently around hers and he slid his arm around her waist, drawing her near but not too near, Callie knew he’d danced a time or two before.

“For someone like me who has no problem whatsoever doing a belly-dancing demo, I’m a set of nerves out here,” she muttered.

He smiled down at her, the intimacy springing strongly between them. “That’s because you’re in charge of your belly dance, and you know what you’re doing. Out here, I’m the great unknown,” he said modestly.

She relaxed a little more because Beau obviously knew what he was doing. “I suppose they taught you guys how to ballroom dance, too?” His eyes gleamed, and she smiled because he wasn’t going to tell her. “So they taught you high-class manners, ballroom dancing, wines, and what else?”

“Oh, sweet woman, we can’t go there. I’m top secret. Remember?”

The endearment feathered across her and she accepted his teases. Moving a bit closer to him, Callie inhaled his male scent, the fresh soap he’d used earlier, the desert fragrance that was a part of the Afghan landscape.

He was the only one with a beard and longish hair in the establishment. Callie noticed more than a few men, probably officers, giving him a sharp glance, as if noting he was black ops of some kind. They might not have known if he was a SEAL or Delta Force, but they knew he was different from the rest of them. That made her proud of Beau. He didn’t seem to care one whit if anyone stared at him or not. His gaze was solely on her.

“I like the way you smell,” he rasped, leaning over, his voice low and intimate.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” she admitted.

“Hmm, mental telepathy. That’s a good sign,” Beau noted, moving her easily and with confidence in a slow circle. Amazingly, she had no trouble following him.

“I don’t know,” Callie admitted, her senses woven into him, her hand in his, feeling his body supporting her yet not demanding as he guided her around the dance floor. She could feel the throb of his strength and masculinity and instinctively absorbed it, wanting more.

“Those pearls make your skin radiant. Did you know that?”

“No . . .”

“My ma loves pearls. My pa bought her some for their tenth wedding anniversary, and she cried and cried over them. They were the real kind, not the freshwater ones, but from the ocean. And when she wore them for the first time when they went to church, she looked radiant, too.” Beau looked down, gazing into her upturned face. “Like you. Pearls bring out your perfect complexion.”

Beau saw the warmth in her green eyes, saw those wonderfully shaped pink lips of hers part beneath his compliment. How he wanted to lean down and brush his mouth against hers, but he reminded himself to let Callie take the next step, if there was one. She swayed knowingly with the rhythm of the music, the beat just a natural part of her dancer’s instinct. His hand had settled low on her back, and he could feel the movement of her hips beneath his palm. They brought to mind the way she had done those hip snaps and rolls the night she had belly danced for the troops. He knew he was having trouble keeping his erection down and was glad he’d buttoned his suit jacket to hide it.

“My great-grandfather gave these pearls to my great-grandmother, and they’ve been passed on down through our family. Dara got a beautiful Tiffany brooch of sapphires and diamonds, and I got the set of pearls.”

“Well,” he drawled, “you got the best deal of all, Callie. The pearls do nothing but show the world how lovely you are.”

There was such sincerity in Beau’s praise that she couldn’t resist it and whispered, “Thanks.” And then, Callie moved closer, her breasts brushing lightly against his chest, her nipples instantly peaking. Her lower body urged her to get even closer, and she let herself follow its urging, placing her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling Beau’s arms tighten, bringing her against him gently. It was just enough, and Callie sighed, swaying with the music, surrendering to Beau’s lead. She felt a rush of sizzling fire and her urgent hunger arcing through her. Unable to suppress it, she caught her breath.

“Okay?” he asked, his lips near her ear.

Callie nodded, not trusting her voice. Ever since she’d met Beau, she’d wanted this. Just this. Feeling him hold her close, absorbing his maleness, the controlled power of his body beneath his clothes, that sense of protection he bestowed upon her.

She felt as if he were her own personal guardian, shielding her from everything bad in the world around them. Never had she felt that, from anyone. It just felt so natural to fall in step with Beau, to follow his lead, to hear the steady beat of his heart, as if he never got stressed out.

Unconsciously, she rubbed her cheek against the soft fiber of his jacket, longing to open it, loosen his tie, unbutton that starched white shirt, and place her hands across the amazing breadth of his naked chest. Her hand tightened in his, and he slowly drew their clasped hands against his chest in an intimate gesture. Like lovers.

Only, they weren’t. She sighed, her hips just naturally moving slowly against his own, wildly aware of his thick erection against her belly, of his wanting her. It felt as if all her inner wetness was preparing for him to enter her. There was dampness between her thighs, and her panties were already soaked. All this, and he’d never even tried to kiss her! Yes, she was in real trouble now!

It had been a year since she’d made love to a man, but she knew that time was drawing to a close as she felt his narrow hips rolling against hers. A deep moan threatened to escape her as they moved closer to each other, their need and growing desire overriding all their caution.

She felt his lips press against her temple, his moist breath sighing against her flesh. Straining upward, her breasts firming, her nipples crying out to be touched and ravished, Callie lifted her head. And as she did so, she closed her eyes, seeking and finding Beau’s mouth. The brush of his lips against hers was featherlight, as if it was a gentle introduction. A low sound caught in her throat as she stretched, wanting more of him. The second time he kissed her, he slanted his mouth over hers, inviting her to respond, waiting, not pushing or forcing himself on her. Her breath quickening, Callie’s hand slid upward and curved around his strong neck, pulling him down, bringing his mouth firmly against her own.

When she heard his low growl, she felt herself melting into molten clay to be kneaded, formed, and shaped by his hands, his slowly moving body, and the hungry heat of his mouth that he’d restrained as he celebrated their first contact.

Callie lost all sense of place and time as their mouths moved in sinuous concert with their bodies along with the music. It was as if Beau were making love to her out on the dance floor, connected from their mouths to their hips, his arm possessive, like a male animal claiming his mate. The power of that sensation rocked her world as her senses exploded with the taste of him, the masterful way his mouth took hers. Yes, he was very adept at loving a woman slowly, deliciously, and confidently.

Reluctantly, Beau eased his mouth from her soft, wet lips.
Damn!
he thought.
One of us has to be aware and restrained out here.
Hell, it was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but the music was ending and they couldn’t stand out in the middle of the dance floor fused together.

He smiled down into her half-closed eyes, seeing the arousal doing a slow, deep burn. Yeah, he felt the same way, his body hardened to the point of making him want to bend over in pain.

“Come on,” he rasped thickly, releasing her but keeping his arm solidly around her waist. He could see that she was disoriented, and as they slowly walked off the floor, he took her aside. She was still floating from that unexpected kiss she’d initiated.

Bringing her over toward the wall, in the shadows, his hands settled lightly on her upper arms.

“Callie, I need to know what you want to do.” He wanted so damn badly to love this woman the whole night through, to claim her and show her how much he could pleasure her, make her cry out and scream with needing him. Beau wanted to give her everything she deserved and more, because all of him was engaged with this.

Callie’s lips had been hot silk against his, just as sensuous as her belly dancing. He looked deep into her eyes, which were still dark with longing.

“I want . . .” She tried to think, her slender red brows moving down for a moment. “You . . .” The word was almost torn from her lips. “And . . . I’m so afraid, Beau . . . so afraid . . .”

“Don’t be,” he rasped against her ear, kissing her hair. “It will be all right. Wait here, and I’ll get your purse and pick up your coat.” He’d already paid the bill, so that was out of the way. She gave a jerky nod, as if still swimming in that invisible cloud of pleasure. He recognized the look and smiled a little, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “I’ll be right back, sweet woman.”