“H
OW WAS ROUND ONE OF
photographer sitting?” Murdoch asked with a grin, propping his shoulder against Mitch’s doorjamb.
“Wait one sec,” Mitch said. He finished the last of the reports, added it to the stack and leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head. “It was…interesting.”
Murdoch dropped into the chair opposite Mitch. “No shit?”
“Actually, yeah.”
“If she gets a look at me, she’ll want me on her list for sure,” Murdoch said with a grin.
“Arrogant bastard.”
“Hey, have
you
made her list?”
Mitch wasn’t about to relay that particular conversation to his friend. “You know, come to think of it…she seems to be looking for arrogant bastards, so you might stand a chance. She picked McElhaney.”
Murdoch muttered a profanity that insulted both McElhaney and McElhaney’s mother.
“I know. I tried to give her the heads-up.”
“I wish you had something to nail him with,” Murdoch said.
Mitch shrugged. “He’s doing that himself. He’s sloppy. It’s going to catch up with him, sooner or later.”
“The sooner the better. Are you heading out to Louisiana Friday night or Saturday morning?”
“I’m trying for Friday night. The old man’s get-together is on Saturday night, so I’ll get back sometime Sunday.” Mitch grinned, as excited about reuniting the former soldiers as he’d been about anything in a long time. “It’s going to be a damn good time. I’m glad I told him about it. He’s been looking forward to it for months now.”
“How many are coming?”
“Five. It was originally seven, but two guys died in the last six months.”
“That’s what happens when you’re dealing with old dudes.”
“Yep. So I’m checking the old man out and taking him to the VFW for the party.”
“Reliving the glory days.”
“That’s what old soldiers do.” Mitch grinned. “We’ll be just like them one day. Talking about
remember when we went through jump training…that mission into northern Iraq.
”
“It’s cool that you’ve pulled this together for them.”
“I used to go to his battalion reunions with him when I was a kid. The guys told the same stories over and over, but I never got tired of listening to them. And
now there’s just a handful of his buddies left. I think I’m looking forward to seeing the old geezers as much as he is.” Mitch glanced at the clock on the wall. “Hey, I’ve got to get out of here.”
“So you
are
going to dinner with Eden Walters. Tolliver told his wife—” Mitch remembered Tolliver being in the last group of five jumpers. He must’ve overheard the conversation between McElhaney, Mitch, and Eden. “Who in turn told my wife who promptly called me to tell me I was holding information out on her,” Murdoch continued. “So, where are you taking her?”
“She wanted something local so we’re going to—”
“Wait,” Murdoch interrupted, throwing up a cautionary hand. “Don’t tell me unless you want us to show up. Because if you tell me, you know Tara’s going to want to check her out.”
Mitch came close to telling Murdoch anyway. It’d certainly keep dinner from getting too intimate if Tara and Murdoch showed up. His better judgment told him to give Murdoch the name of the restaurant. But was that what he really wanted?
Mitch’s entire body tightened when he remembered her scent, the brief feel of her body against his, the fleeting taste of her mouth…and the look in her dark blue eyes when she’d all but dared him to take her to dinner.
Apparently, his better judgment had skipped town when it came to Eden Walters. He found himself
shaking his head. “Just tell her you couldn’t pry it out of me.”
“She’s going to kill me.”
“Yeah, but I think you enjoy it, Murdoch.”
Murdoch sobered. “Look man, you might want to proceed with caution considering her old man’s a brigadier general.”
“We’re only going out to dinner.”
“She kissed you this morning. It’s already all over the base. And you know as well as I do that facts get distorted with every retelling.”
Mitch suspected Brigadier General Max Walters was fully aware of what his daughter was like. Otherwise he was pretty damn sure he’d have already been called on the carpet about it. “Okay. I hear you.”
He had just enough time to shower, shave and put on fresh civvies before he headed her way.
And it was kind of alarming just how much he was looking forward to doing just that.
E
DEN’S HEART RACED AS
M
ITCH
Dugan pulled up in front of her hotel. She walked out to meet him and paused as he opened the passenger door of his truck for her. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, Ms. Walters.”
She brushed past him to slide inside the Bronco. She didn’t actually touch him but she was unbearably aware of his nearness. He’d showered. She could smell the fresh mix of soap, shampoo, clean clothes and man. His
body heat drew her like a warm fire on a cold night. The errant thought that she’d been waiting on him a lifetime chased through her head. It was as disconcerting as the man himself. “No. I wasn’t waiting long at all. You’re right on time Lieutenant Colonel…but then I knew you would be.”
He paused in closing the passenger door, a gleam of humor in his moss-green eyes. “Predictable?”
“Just military,” she said, reaching for her seat belt. He closed the door without comment and rounded the truck to climb in the driver’s seat.
Eden plowed ahead as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Now’s probably a good time to tell you, you should just call me Eden. Ms. Walters has me looking over my shoulder for my mother.”
He offered an abrupt nod. Well, not exactly abrupt. Economical. Everything about Mitch Dugan was together and efficient…well, except for when she’d kissed him this morning. “Roger that, Eden.” Wow. That sent a little shiver through her and notched up her temperature a couple of degrees. His underlying Southern drawl was a little more pronounced when he said her name and it rolled off his tongue like a sweet whisper of seduction. “Lieutenant Colonel Dugan’s a mouthful,” he said without cracking a smile. “Why don’t you just call me Lieutenant Colonel?”
Talk about hard core…she was pretty sure her mouth gaped a bit and he grinned at her. “That was a joke. My name is Mitch.” His grin weakened her knees.
She laughed. He’d had her from the moment she’d fallen at his feet, but throw in a sense of humor and she was an utter goner. “You got me with that.”
A slow smile, steeped in sensuality, tugged at his lips, thickening the air between them. Three days. She had three days with this man and she knew simply falling into bed with him wouldn’t work for her. Some women could do stranger sex, one-night hookups—sometimes she envied them that ability, but it wasn’t in her makeup. While she could do a brief fling, she had to at least know more about him than his name and his rank.
“So, Mitch.” Simply saying his name sent a little thrill coursing through her. “Why the military?”
“My grandfather was career Army. An NCO.” She noted that while his grandfather had been a noncommissioned officer, an enlisted man, Mitch was not only an officer, but a high-ranking one at a very young age. Interesting. “I grew up on his stories. I just knew it was where I belonged and what I was supposed to do, to be. I can’t think of any greater honor than serving my country. And I like the structure, the order.”
His hands on the steering wheel caught her attention. They were capable, masculine hands—well-shaped in that they weren’t too narrow nor too square, his fingers blunt-tipped, his wrists carrying a smattering of dark hair. She remembered the feel, the tingle of his hands against her back when he’d hauled her to her feet this morning.
Her belly fluttered at the memory. And her people instincts zeroed in on what he’d not said as much as what he had. “What about your parents?”
“We’re not close. I didn’t have much structure growing up. I almost failed third grade because I was absent so much. They couldn’t bother to get up in the morning and if they didn’t care, I didn’t care. I stayed up half the night playing video games.”
He clamped his mouth shut and she knew he’d said way more than he’d ever intended. Now that particular topic was closed.
“What about you?” he asked. “Why photography?”
She was good at reading people and his question rang with genuine curiosity, although she could tell he was still quite happy to change the subject. “We moved all over the world and if you’ve seen one base, you’ve seen most all of them. And then, when we were living in Hawaii, on the big island, my aunt sent me a camera for Christmas. There was something about looking through that camera lens. Just a sense of ‘this is me.’ Does that sound crazy?”
“Nope. Not a bit. That was exactly the way the military was for me. Do you mainly photograph people?”
“Not just people. More like people in their element, when the backdrop tells their story, along with their face and their expression.”
“How do you know when you find that?”
“It’s an instinct. Photographer’s intuition. Some
times you just know when something’s right. When it fits or clicks into place—even if you don’t want it to be right.”
He stopped at a red light and turned toward her. He had a way of looking at her that left her feeling as if he was peering into her very soul. She connected with people all the time, but this was different. It was as if he had access to the very core of her being, which was crazy since she’d only just met him. Still, it was very real, nonetheless.
“Is your instinct ever wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t say it’s ever failed me. It’s only when I’m stubborn and ignore it because it’s not what I want to hear that I wind up in trouble.”
“Does that happen often?” His eyes gleamed and his lips lingered on her lips. She knew he was recalling her kiss this morning. And just a look at her lips sent her thoughts scattering. What were they talking about? Oh, yeah.
“What? That I wind up in trouble?” Quite suddenly his opinion mattered…a good deal. She was impulsive sometimes and she liked to consider herself a free spirit, however, she wasn’t a loose cannon by any means. “Less than you might think.”
The light changed and they were on their way again. “So why would I think you get into trouble a lot? Wait.” His tone was teasing but there was an underlying note of seriousness. “Maybe because you go around kissing men you don’t know? Hmmm.”
“It’s not a habit,” she said with a laugh.
His grin was slightly lopsided, which was rather endearing in a man so structured and organized. “Do you realize you now have G.I.’s lining up to knock you down so you’ll kiss them?”
She shrugged. “Occasionally my mouth does get me into trouble.”
“Just curious, Eden, but why’d you kiss me this morning?”
“I guess it does actually beg an explanation, but you may think it’s kind of strange.”
“Baby, it can’t be any stranger than you laying one on me in battalion headquarters’ hallway.”
Baby. Some men used the term and it struck her as demeaning or overly familiar. She was sure Mitch Dugan didn’t use the term often. And coming from him it was hot. During their entire conversation, there’d been an awareness, a tension stretching between them, wrapping around them. It jumped to the forefront now.
“Okay,” she said. “Here goes. You reminded me of someone, really something—a statue in my garden. Hey, it’s not every day that a woman literally runs into a Roman god lookalike.”
“You kissed me today in the hallway because I look like a garden statue. I’m not sure whether that would make or ruin my reputation.” He could say whatever he wanted to but he was flattered. “Which god?”
“Mercury, messenger of the gods.”
“So I look like this statue?”
Three days and counting. If she was going to flirt, she was going to flirt boldly. Going for it, meant
really
going for it. Eden didn’t believe in half measures. “I can only vouch for the face because he’s naked and you aren’t. At least not yet.”
“Baby,” he said as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “I can see where your mouth could get you in all kinds of trouble.”
M
ITCH LOOKED AT THE WOMAN
sitting across from him sipping a sweet tea and looking around the restaurant in obvious appreciation.
She had him tied up in knots like he’d never been tied up before. And the hell of it was, he kind of liked it. Mitch knew for certain he felt more energized and alive than he’d ever felt before, and he’d been in some combat situations where his adrenaline had definitely been flowing. Maybe her particular brand of crazy was catching.
She turned her midnight-blue eyes on him. “I like this place,” she said.
“I had a feeling this was what you had in mind.” Funny how he felt tapped into her. Even though they were obviously vastly different in some respects, he felt an indescribable connection to her. It was as if one kiss this morning had plugged him into her. But that kind of logic was no logic at all. “Raeleen’s is an institution with the locals.”
Raeleen’s Rib Shack served the best damn fall-off-the-bone smoked ribs smothered in a peppery sauce
that begged to be washed down with an ice cold sweet tea. Sides of coleslaw, Brunswick stew, French fried sweet potatoes and banana pudding rounded things out. Eden struck him as a woman who indulged in
whatever
she had an appetite for. “Every bite’s homemade by Raeleen and her daughters Shirleen and Jolene.” She leaned forward, listening intently to what he was saying. He knew these were the kind of details that would fascinate her…and it was heady stuff, being the object of her fascination. Damn. He needed help. “Every once in a while Raeleen’s husband, Paul, will call out for Lena, just to mix things up.” Eden laughed and everything inside him tightened. “They all answer to the nickname.”
“That’s exactly the kind of stuff I like to know.” Bingo. Was he seducing her or was she seducing him? And did it really matter? “Do you come here often?”
“Maybe once a month, sometimes more.” But he always came alone or with Murdoch and Tara. He’d never brought a date here. “So, you never said how you wound up working on the calendar project when you didn’t want to.”
“I left the decision to be decided by my friend Patti, a bottle of limocello and a deck of Tarot cards.”
Okay. This wasn’t exactly the way he ran his life, but he found himself more fascinated than anything. “Do you ever make normal, rational decisions?”
She narrowed her eyes at him across the red-and-white checked plastic table cloth. Her entire demeanor
screamed,
don’t screw with me
. Whatever and whoever she was, she had backbone in spades. “Just because my decision-making process is different than yours, it doesn’t make me irrational.”
“But you’re telling me you took this project because you’d been drinking and playing around with Tarot cards. And you kissed a total stranger because he reminded you of a garden statue.”
“What? Would you rather hear that I found you utterly irresistible?”
“That wouldn’t make any more logical sense than the fact that I reminded you of a statue. How could you, in less than a minute, find me so irresistible?” And what the hell was he doing having this crazy conversation with her. Eden Walters Disease. He’d caught it apparently.
“Now that’s disappointing.”
She could turn him on more with just a look than any other woman could with full-body contact. “What?”
“Here I thought you were the perfect man. But you can’t be if you don’t believe in instant irresistibility.”
Yet once again, Mitch found himself laughing. She was so talking trash. There was nothing perfect about him, but it was fun to hear her say it. She brought out a playfulness in him he’d never known he possessed. Hell, she even inspired him to flirt, something he’d never been good at. Tough, commanding, take-charge. These were all adjectives he’d heard used to describe him. But flirtatious and playful? Who knew, maybe he
wasn’t good at it now but this soldier was going to give it a try. “How often do you find men instantly irresistible?”
“Until today? Never.” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Now’s a good time to tell me you find me irresistible, too.”
“That could be dangerous, couldn’t it, Eden? If we found one another irresistible?”
Raeleen herself delivered a platter of ribs, with Jolene—Shirleen had a mole on her neck—following with the stew, sweet potatoes and coleslaw. “Y’all need anything else?”
“We’re good,” Mitch said. “Thanks.”
Eden snagged a couple of ribs and one of the fried sweet potato wedges. “I thought Special Forces specialized in dangerous missions, Lieutenant Colonel.” She licked her fingertip, sampling the rib sauce. “Yum. Spicy but not too hot.”
Wham! Sensation slammed him and shot straight to his crotch. And he suddenly knew he’d never been in more dangerous territory.
He took a long swallow of iced tea to cool down. “There are some things you’re just not trained to handle.”
“Maybe. But I get the feeling you’re equipped to take on just about anything.” She nibbled at the end of a meaty sauce-coated rib and his body responded with a strictly male, physical response. Watching her eat ribs
might very well kill him tonight. But it would be a helluva way to go.
Somewhere in the dim recesses of the part of his brain that still held on to a shred of sanity, he remembered that she wasn’t just any woman. She was the daughter of a very powerful man. One who could impact Mitch’s career and not necessarily in a good way.
“Just about anything…except for pissed off brigadier generals.”
“I’m a big girl, Mitch.”
Damn it! That rib was far too phallic. He didn’t need any reminders she was all grown up. That was obvious. A bead of sweat broke out on his neck.
“How would your father feel about you consorting with a soldier?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never consorted before…with a soldier, that is. Of course, I’ve consorted.”
So, he was equally uncharted territory for her? “Not even a date?”
“Nope. I’ve always steered clear. It seemed like a good policy.”
“But now…”
“Some rules are meant to broken. At least, on a temporary basis.”
He’d be lying if he said that didn’t notch the whole thing up a level for him. She was potent enough on her own, but to know he was the one who inspired her to break her own rule jacked him up even further. “Why does that not surprise me about you?”
“Let me guess. You’re a rules-all-the-way kind of guy.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” He was getting better at this flirting stuff—and his jeans were getting tighter and tighter.
“I suppose it’s all a moot point if you don’t find me irresistible, now, isn’t it?” She put the cleaned bone on her plate.
“Did I say that?”
“You don’t have to. We’re still sitting here, aren’t we?”
“You’re not subtle, are you?”
“Almost never.”
It didn’t matter who her father was. It didn’t matter that she’d be leaving in three days. It didn’t matter that she was the last woman he should fall into bed with. He accepted what a part of him had known since that slow slide up his body this morning and that knock-him-for-a-loop kiss. He couldn’t ignore—or resist—this thing between him and Eden Walters.
“Jolene, I’ll take the check now.”
S
HE SHOULD BE NERVOUS
. She should be mortified that she was about to hop into bed with a man she’d just met this morning. Instead, she was simply ready.
As if to confirm the rightness of what they were about to do, he reached down and grasped her hand in his. There was something infinitely touching in the simplicity of that gesture, in the respect he offered simply by holding her hand.
The streetlights glowed in the parking lot and he steered her around a pothole as he escorted her to her side of the Bronco. She was independent and she certainly managed to look out for herself, but she liked his gallantry, his attentiveness.
“Your place or mine?” he asked.
Gallant, yes. Suave, no. She laughed.
“I guess that did sound like a cliché.”
“Just a little. Mine.” There was something about the impartiality of a hotel room that was less intimidating than the intimacy of a house. His home. The truth of the matter was, contrarily she didn’t want to fill in too many blanks about him.
Because you could get wrapped up in him way too fast and where would that leave you
, a reckoning voice whispered in her ear. Yep, quick in and out.
Silence settled between them and butterflies took off in her stomach. “Would you let me photograph you?” she said.
He cut her a quick glance. There was a lot less traffic heading back toward the hotel than there had been traveling out to Raeleen’s.
“I thought you didn’t want to photograph me for the calendar?”
“I don’t. You aren’t calendar material. This would be private. Just for me. You don’t have to let me know now. Just think about it.”
“Are you always so shy and retiring?”
Hmm. Eden got the impression that her arrogant, in-
command paratrooper was slightly nervous and filling the silence with small talk.
“Believe it or not, I was as a kid. But when you move as often as we did, you either drown in shyness or you learn to swim. I’m a swimmer.”
“I’d say captain of the swim team,” he said.
Ah, there was his arrogant smile coming through. She found the different facets of Mitch Dugan fascinating. For a man who lived his life in black and white, he was a riveting mix of shades of gray.
“Was that a joke?”
“I have the occasional lapse.”
They turned into the hotel entrance and Mitch parked in a remote corner of the parking lot.
“Take off your seat belt and slide this way a little bit.”
“Don’t you want to go inside?”
“Not yet.” He shifted to face her in his seat. It was dark and intimate in the front of his truck and she felt the same surge of nervous anticipation she’d felt as a teenager when she went parking with her boyfriend her senior year. Only this was much, much better because both of them had some experience under their belts. He leaned in and his breath was warm against her skin. “Any good soldier knows you need to check out the lay of the land before you move in. The more you know, the better the outcome.” He intertwined the fingers of his left hand with her right and her pulse kicked into hyper speed. “And I always aim for optimal outcome.”
She returned his banter, her fingers curling against his warm hand. “Do you always approach sex like a military operation?”
“You have to go with what you know.” He nuzzled the line of her jaw, his whiskers a faint scrape against her sensitive skin. “If you change your mind, all you have to do is say so. No explanation required. I’ll drive you to the front entrance, drop you off and we can forget this ever happened.”
“That’s generous.”
“No. Your offer is generous. I’m just trying to be fair.”
He feathered his fingers along the line of her jaw and her breath caught in her throat. He smoothed a finger over the fullness of her bottom lip. “I’ve thought about your mouth all day long.”
Sweet mercy. One light touch and that dulcet low murmur and her panties were soaked.
“Me, too. I mean thought about your mouth, not mine.”
“I wanted to do this…” His touch was gossamer light as he skimmed his palm down the length of her neck to the hollow that led to her collarbone.
Oh. My. God. She hadn’t expected just a simple touch to quiver through her.
He cupped her jaw in his hand, sliding his fingers past the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Your skin is just as soft as it looks.”
She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted his mouth on hers. His moss-green eyes were
intense in the shadowed cab. She slid her arm over his shoulder and wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck.
“Ki—”
He interrupted what was going to be a
Kiss me
directive. “No. I’m in charge of this mission.”
What could have come across as peremptory just sounded hot.
Really
hot. He was a man used to being in charge. If he wanted to take the lead now, she was good with that.
His breath fanned against her cheek, her mouth and then finally his lips found hers. He tasted like a combination of sweet and spicy, sweet tea and peppery barbeque sauce. It was a sampling kiss, followed by another, then another. She sighed into him. This was even better than this morning.
He kissed her harder and she kissed him back with equal intensity. She lost track of everything except the mingling of his breath with hers, the sweep of his tongue caressing hers, the rasp of his calloused fingers against her skin.
An ache, hot and sweet and wet, blossomed inside her. His groan echoed into her mouth and she sent it back to him.
His breath was gratifyingly uneven when he pulled away. In a surprisingly tender gesture, he rested his forehead against hers.
“So, do I stay or go?”
“You’re not much of a reconnaissance man, soldier, if you have to ask.”
N
EITHER ONE OF THEM SPOKE
as they crossed the lobby to the elevators. When the doors closed behind them, enclosing them in the elevator’s confines, the sexual tension in the air was almost tangible.
“What floor?”
“Five.”
Mitch pushed the button and stood at parade rest. He didn’t dare touch her again until they were in her room. Just kissing her, the press of her hand against his neck, the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips had him trembling.
That had never happened before—the feeling that he was teetering on the brink of moving beyond himself, not quite in control. And the smart thing to do would’ve been to drop her at the front door and get the hell home. But he simply couldn’t walk away from her, which was all the more reason to. But he couldn’t.
He wanted to know what it felt like to be sheathed inside her, to be buried in her warmth and exuberance. And it wasn’t just about getting laid—that could happen on any given night at pretty much any bar in town. He was a decent-looking guy and the ladies seemed to like him. No. This was about her. And him. About the fact that he’d wanted to be inside her since she’d journeyed up his body in that sensuous slide this morning. And that the thought of McElhaney touching her left him wanting to break something—preferably McElhaney’s face.