It was fate.
It had to be. A slow warmth unfurled inside him as the doctor he could not get
out of his head looked up at him, her cheeks flushing pink.
She was all
buttoned up at work. Tonight, she looked different. Looser. Unbound.
Compelling.
That’s what she was. Her fire at work. Her refusal to let him bully her. He’d
admired her backbone before.
Tonight, he
admired her in an entirely new light. Her hair framed her face in careless
curls. He hadn’t expected to see her outside of work. He damn sure hadn’t
expected to see her here. An old familiar need rose inside him. A need for
touch, human and warm. A need to lose himself for an interlude in sweat and sex
and stunning pleasure. He’d given up drinking but women had apparently fallen
into that category as well.
It had been
months since he’d felt a woman’s hands on his body.
This woman
was not someone he needed to be talking to at the bar tonight but he found
himself walking toward her anyway.
After the week of confrontation they’d had,
he’d be lucky if she didn’t slap him the minute he approached her.
He could do
this. He could talk to a woman without drinking. Right?
Emily met his
gaze as he approached. He almost smiled.
“Not your usual scene?” he asked,
leaning against the bar.
She shifted,
putting a little space between them. That slight reclamation of power. He made
a noise of approval in his throat. “I’m surprised you’re talking to me.”
“I’m surprised
you’re here. Shouldn’t you be home reading medical journals or something?” Her
cheeks flushed deep pink and he wondered how far down her body that color went.
She tipped
her chin then and looked at him. “Have you been drinking?”
He looked
down at the bottle in his hand. “I don’t drink anymore,” he said quietly. No
reason to delve into his abusive history with alcohol. “You?”
“Glass of wine,” she said.
Reza shrugged
and leaned on the bar, taking another pull off his water and being careful not
to lean too close. She looked like she’d bolt if he pushed her. “That would
explain why you’re talking to me. We haven’t exactly been friendly.”
Her hair
reflected the fading sunlight that filled the room from the wide-open patio
doors. He wanted to fist it between his fingers, watch her neck arch for his
mouth.
She motioned
toward his bottle with her glass. “‘Anymore’?”
He simply
took another pull off his water. He was going to be damn good and hydrated after
tonight. He wondered what she’d do if he leaned a little closer. “Long story.”
“One you’re
not keen on sharing?” she asked. She leaned her cheek on one palm. The sun
glinted across her cheek.
“Let’s just
say alcohol and I aren’t on speaking terms. Bad things happen when I drink.” It
was nothing to be ashamed of but there it was. Shame wound up his spine and
squeezed the air from his lungs. He was just like his dad after all.
“You say that
like giving up alcohol is a bad thing,” Emily said quietly.
Reza snorted
softly. He should have guessed she wouldn’t let it alone. She had stubbornness
that could last for days. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”
Her hand on
his forearm startled him. Soft and strong, her fingers pressed into his skin.
“But stopping is something to be proud of.”
Reza stared
down at her hand, pale against the dark shadows of his own skin. A long silence
hung between them.
He lifted his
gaze to hers.
“It takes a
lot of strength to break with the past,” she said softly.
“What are you
doing?” Her eyes glittered in the setting sun and he thought he caught the
sight of the tiniest edge of her lip curling.
Her fingers
slipped from his skin. “Offering my professional support?”
His lips
quirked. “Was that a joke?”
“Maybe,” she
said. “I’m working on developing a biting sense of humor. Defense mechanism
against raging asshole commanders.”
Reza barked
out a laugh. “You look different out of uniform,” he said lightly, pressing his
advantage at this unexpected truce.
“So do you.”
He angled his
body toward hers. “You like my makeup?” he asked.
Her lips parting
as she tried to figure out if he was kidding or not. Finally, she cracked the
barest hint of a smile.
Something
powerful woke inside him and he moved before he thought about it. He reached
for her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. The simple gesture was
crushing in its intimacy. Her lips froze in a partial gasp, as though her
breath had caught in her throat.
“Sergeant
Iaconelli,” she said quietly, her voice husky. But she didn’t move away. Didn’t
flinch from his touch.
“Reza.” He swallowed the sharp bite of
arousal in his blood, more powerful without the haze of alcohol that usually
clouded his reactions. “My name is Reza.”
“Reza.”
His breath
was locked in his lungs, the sound of his name on her lips triggering something
dark and powerful and overwhelming.
He wanted
this woman. The woman who’d stood in opposition to him this week. The woman who
lifted her chin and stood steadfast between him and his soldiers.
There was
strength in this woman. Strength and courage.
“I’m Emily.”
Her words a rushed breath.
He lowered
his hand, unwilling to push any further than he’d already gone. This was new
territory for him. Unfamiliar and strange and filled with potential and fear.
“It was nice
talking to you tonight, Emily,” he said when he could speak.
He waited for
her acknowledgment that she’d heard him. Some slight movement of her head or
tip of her chin.
Instead her
throat moved as she swallowed and she blinked quickly, shattering the spell
between them.
He left her
then because to push further would challenge the limits of his restraint. He
wasn’t ready to fall into bed with someone. No matter how compelling Emily
might be.
He waited and
he watched for the rest of the evening. Watched her slip out with her friend,
leaving an empty space at the bar.
Leaving him
alone with the fear that included the empty loneliness as well as the cold
silence of sobriety.
His thoughts
raced as he made sure his troopers all got home that night, and Teague crashed
on his couch.
He fell into
bed later, need and desire twisted up, filling the cold dead space left inside
him by the lack of alcohol. A dead space he usually filled with work while
deployed. Tonight, though, unfamiliar pleasure hunted his thoughts, whispering
that he could still love a woman, that he didn’t have to be drunk to climb into
bed with someone.
But Emily
wasn’t a random someone.
And she was
so far out of his league, it wasn’t even funny. Even if there was some sexual
attraction there, she wasn’t likely to go slumming with a burned-out
infantryman like him.
He lay there
in the darkness, waiting, clinging to the single, simple pleasure of her touch,
hoping that maybe tonight he could sleep, avoiding the nightmares that reminded
him of the monster he’d become.
A beast who
had lost his compassion somewhere on the road to Baghdad.
After years of pinching pennies and struggling to get through art school, Emma Makie’s hard work finally pays off with the offer of a dream job. But when tragedy strikes, she has no choice but to make a cross-country move to Colorado Springs to take temporary custody of her two nieces. She has no money, no job prospects, and no idea how to be a mother to two little girls, but she isn’t about to let that stop her. Nor is she about to accept the help of Kevin Grantham, her handsome new neighbor, who seems to think she’s incapable of doing anything on her own.
USA Today bestselling author Rachael Anderson is the mother of four and is pretty good at breaking up fights, or at least sending guilty parties to their rooms. She can’t sing, doesn’t dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating.
So I thought I would join another challenge! This time its the 2014 YA Audiobook Challenge!
