guy?” Blake persisted, shifting his body weight so he loomed rather than stood over the younger man. “What’s his relationship with Alexia? Is she involved? Is he someone she cares about?”
“If she cared, he’d be here.”
Blake rocked back on his heels.
He was here. But not with Alexia. There was a message in that somewhere.
“What’s her issue with the military?”
“Well, you’ve met our father.” For the first time, Michael’s carefree facade cracked, showing a layer of bitter hurt. Blake had seen the same expression in Alexia’s eyes in the bar, when she’d talked about military men. Seemed the admiral wasn’t in the running for any father-of-the-year prizes.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said, charm back in place as he got to his feet. “I really am. I think you’d be good for Alexia.”
“So why are you sorry?”
“Because she won’t talk to you again.”
“You don’t know that.” Even though it was pretty much exactly what she’d said. But Blake didn’t accept it. And what he didn’t accept, he changed.
“Look, you’re a great guy,” Michael explained. “And Alexia deserves great, unquestionably. But she’ll never date a soldier.” He hesitated, as if he was worried about Blake’s reaction. Then he laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Blake dropped to the bench swing as he watched the younger man walk away.
Up until three weeks ago, he’d loved his job. He’d trained for it, embraced it, lived for it. He’d never questioned being a SEAL. Never wanted anything else.
But in the space of the last couple of weeks, that same job he loved, he identified with, had taken two things that he hadn’t wanted to give up.
His buddy.
And the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
He couldn’t do a damn thing about Phil. But he could about Alexia. All he needed was a plan, a little strategy and the right hook. He’d get her back.
Damned if he wouldn’t.
BLAKE GAVE ALEXIA an hour. Enough time to chill, but not enough to stew. He used the time wisely, stopping by Cade’s to change into jeans. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she wasn’t a fan of a guy in uniform.
Truce wasn’t going to be negotiated if he pissed her off from the get-go. Not that he expected an easy surrender on her part. She was too fiery for that. Too intense. Which was just one of the reasons he was crazy about her.
One of the reasons he refused to let her end this between them.
Parking his truck in front of her condo, he took a breath. Middle-of-the-night battles had a different feel than daytime skirmishes. An edge.
Prepared to win, he strode up to her door and knocked.
He figured she’d be mad at first, probably have that chill going still. He’d charm her a little, play the apology game, bring her around to admitting that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Five, ten minutes tops and he’d be reveling in the pleasure of her again.
A few seconds later he knocked again.
He didn’t have to look at his watch to know it was 1:00 a.m. Just like he didn’t have to look at her brightly lit windows to know she was still up.
He waited a few more seconds, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“You might as well answer,” he told her machine when it picked up. “I’ll stay here all night. Patience is a particular virtue of mine, remember? I can last all night, babe. You know that. Even when you’re naked, gyrating over me and driving me crazy, I can hold out. Actually, I like waiting. It’s like a personal test, to see how many times I can make you come before I can’t control myself anymore.”
Before he could detail all the things he’d liked that she did to push that control, the door swung open. Blake grinned.
Alexia’s glare was lethal.
Her hair, sleek and sexy just hours ago, was brushed out in a wild frizz so it haloed her face like an angry red cloud.
Her face was scrubbed clean, the siren’s glow that’d matched her evening dress completely eradicated. All that was left was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and smudged remnants of mascara under her furious eyes.
His lips twitched. Was this girl-battle 101? Make the enemy think they don’t want the goods so they walk away without bothering to engage?
Nope.
His gaze skimmed the huge sweatshirt, noting that Jon Bon Jovi was still sporting the big curls and guyliner. The faded gray fabric enveloped her so well, her curves disappeared. Frayed cotton shorts drooped to her knees.
Her toenails were still a glittery, sexy red, though.
Her legs smooth and silky looking.
Her translucent skin flushed with anger, she was just as sexy now as she’d been wrapped in that tiny bikini on the beach.
Not a chance he’d walk away.
He wanted those goods.
“We need to talk,” he said. The sooner they did, the sooner he could strip ole Jon off her body and get down to worshipping those toes.
“Talk? You know the concept?” she asked, not shifting out of the doorway.
“I’ve been introduced to it a time or two,” he said drily. Figuring she’d negotiate better if she thought she was calling the shots, he didn’t push her to let him inside. Instead, he leaned against the door frame and gave her a charming smile.
She automatically stepped back, glowered, then stood her ground again. Damn, she was cute.
“I think the opportunity to talk has passed. I’m sure, as a military man, you’re aware of how many battles have been lost not because of mistakes, but because of timing.”
Blake wasn’t sure if it was because he knew Pierce was her father, or if it was her tone of voice, so precise, cold and similar to the admiral’s, but the resemblance between them was remarkable at that moment.
“I don’t let other people’s mistakes dictate my decisions,” he told her. “And I’ve never lost a battle.”
“Well, you won’t be able to say that again, will you?” she taunted with a chilly smile.
Blake’s smile wavered for a second. He’d figured she’d be angry, but this was a little over the top.
“Would you mind clarifying something for me?” he asked, running
