even make any promises. I was respectful, honorable and up-front.”
He waited for her to acknowledge his largesse. Instead, she slammed her arms across her chest and glared.
Wow. Talk about standing guard over that mountain she’d constructed from a tiny pile of dirt.
“So, what’s the deal?” he asked when he saw that’s all he was going to get. “Why are you so angry?”
There.
The facts, simply laid out and incontrovertible.
He didn’t expect an apology right away. He figured pride, the baffling twists of a woman’s mind and maybe a little embarrassment at overreacting would have to be worked through first. He could wait.
His gaze skimmed her shapeless, colorless outfit again and his blood heated. He sure hoped she’d let him in so he could enjoy himself while he waited.
“Ah, those fine lines,” she mused, relaxing enough to lean against the edge of the door she still gripped and crossing one ankle over the other. “The only problem with your argument is that you’re ignoring intention. Communication isn’t just the words we say, it’s the message we intend to share.”
“I don’t want to sound crude, but what I intended to share was my body with yours. A good time, a lot of incredible sex and, as we spent more time together, maybe a chance to build more,” he countered, reaching out to take her hand. He shoved his impatience back, telling himself this was part of what made her so appealing. Her fiery nature.
Then she moved her fingers away. His brow furrowed. But when she didn’t close the door any farther he let himself start to relax. Almost there.
“Oh, yes, the wonders of sex. It was great, wasn’t it?” she said, her smile wicked. He shifted, starting to feel a little nervous when it didn’t reach her eyes. “And we both had the same intentions when it came to that. But one of us, unlike the other, hid pertinent facts in order to have all that great sex.”
“I didn’t hide a damn thing,” he denied, starting to get irritated.
“No? You didn’t hide your job, your lifestyle, your affiliation? Given that being a SEAL requires a level of dedication that’s steeped in the blood, not sharing that was a deliberate choice on your part. Since I’d made my feelings about being involved with a military man clear, I can only assume that choice was made with the intention of hiding your career from me.”
She sounded like a freaking lawyer. Or worse, he realized, gritting his teeth, a psychologist.
“You didn’t share your last name,” he countered.
“You’re right.” She inclined her head, the move sending her halo of frizzed-out curls wafting around her face. “And that makes me loose and easy. Which is still better than a liar in my book.”
That was enough. Blake straightened, giving her a dark look. Name-calling? That’s the best she could do?
“Look, you have some issues with your father. I get that. And I know he pissed you off with his little matchmaking game. But what does it matter? We’re great together. You’re not going to toss that away over him, are you? Because, what? You have some kind of Pavlovian response, automatically rejecting whatever your father approves of?”
As the words cleared his lips, Blake cringed.
She froze. Everything except her eyes. Those were like fire. She gave him a long, slow once-over before meeting his gaze again. This time he almost stepped back. “Well, aren’t you clever? Throwing out those psych terms like an expert. Clearly you’ve got it all figured out. So tell me, Blake... Do you know the meaning of closure? How about inductive reasoning? Or here’s a simple one. Goodbye.”
She didn’t wait for his response before stepping back and slamming the door shut in his face.
Damn.
Furious with himself, Blake glared at the closed door.
He deserved to get shot down over that one.
Dammit, he’d just wanted a space from the memories, a chance to be a man instead of a soldier who’d just lost a brother-in-arms. What was it with women, always expecting a guy to spill his guts and blab like they did? He didn’t want to talk about his job, or about Phil. He was escaping, not looking for a chance to wallow.
And if she’d wanted to know more about who he was, what he did for a living, then that was on her. She should have asked instead of pitching a fit after the fact.
He resisted the temptation to bang on the door again, shoving his fists in his pockets instead. Grinding his teeth, he stared unseeingly while his mind regrouped.
He wasn’t finished.
He never gave up.
But, as much as it grated to admit, retreat was the only option right now.
Tomorrow, though?
Tomorrow, he’d win.
* * *
THE LAST THING Alexia wanted to do after a sleepless night spent crying over Blake was to face her father. She’d wanted to stay in bed with the covers pulled over her head and a bowl of hot fudge.
But she knew that walking out on his party was tantamount to a declaration of war. As with all conflicts the admiral oversaw, the battles would be played to win at all costs. But she’d spent her formative years learning strategy and figured she was as prepared as she could be.
She wouldn’t win. Nope, she wasn’t delusional. Going up against an admiral in the United States Navy, a SEAL trainer? She didn’t stand a chance. This was all about mitigating damages.
The timing was crucial. A waiting period of just long enough for his temper to drop but not long enough for it to chill.
The combat zone had to be chosen with an eye toward tactics. Brunch at her mother’s table didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t get ugly. But it did mean he’d have to stop to take sips of his coffee between insults.
Her weapons? Maturity and logic, and a gift for communication. As long as she kept her temper and presented her case in a diplomatic, intelligent way, the admiral would listen. He might not agree, but he’d listen.
So, there ya go, she told herself. Ready to rock.
Standing on her parents’ porch, she pressed one hand to her churning stomach, said a little prayer and knocked.
She didn’t recognize the housekeeper who answered, but followed her meekly down the hall. When they passed the French doors where she’d had her confrontation with Blake, she almost tripped over her own Jimmy Choos. Why’d he have to show up last night? Her eyes filled again, both fury and hurt making her want to hit something. It was like Cinderella at the ball, watching her prince turn into a rabid toad.
No. She clenched her fist around the strap of her purse and took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to think about Blake. All weaknesses, all worries, all distractions had to be ignored. Because eggs Benedict and mango aside, this was war.
“Mother,”
