tight together they were white at the edges, she took a long, deep breath through her nose, then exhaled slowly. “No, thank you. I’d rather not go out on the patio. I’d rather not talk. I prefer to go home.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I prefer to go alone.”
Before Blake could counter that, they were interrupted.
“Lieutenant,” the admiral greeted with the biggest smile Blake had ever seen on his face. The empty champagne flute in his hand might factor in, but retirement probably didn’t hurt.
“Sir.” Blake shifted aside just a little so the older man could talk to his daughter. But instead of words, Pierce’s smile dimmed and all he offered his daughter was a nod.
Then, proving that a dozen or so toasts hadn’t affected his perception, his gaze shifted back and forth between them. “The two of you have met already?”
Blake waited for Alexia to answer.
“We said hello on the beach last week,” she finally told her father.
“And?”
“And, nothing.” Her words were as flat as her expression. Blake didn’t get it. Alexia was unquestionably the brightest woman he’d ever met. Not just smart, although he was pretty sure she topped that chart, too. But bright in energy, in color. With her vivid red curls, her expressive face and her enthusiasm, she shone like neon.
Until now.
The color was still there. Her hair as red, her eyes as brown. Her smile, painted a vivid rusty rose, didn’t alter. But she looked as if someone had flipped a switch and shut her down. Turned her off.
The last thing a woman like Alexia was meant to be was off.
Even pissed at him, she’d still shot off a few sparks. Like a woman with a fabulous temper who’d learned to control it. But now? Blake’s gaze cut from her to the admiral, then back. What the hell was going on?
“I told you to plan on staying for at least an hour after the address to perform some specific social duties I required,” the admiral informed his daughter, his gaze shifting from her face to her purse, clutched in white fingers, and then to the door.
“And I told you that I was here to celebrate your retirement, as mother requested. But that I’d have to leave as soon as the address was finished.”
Blake was starting to get the impression that this wasn’t a loving father-daughter relationship.
“I gave you an order, young lady. I expect it to be obeyed.” The admiral gestured to Blake. “Luckily, the two of you have already broken the ice. Lieutenant Landon is one of my protégés. I’d like you to spend some time getting to know each other.”
And there it was—Blake sighed—the last nail in his coffin.
He stepped forward, surreptitiously putting himself between father and daughter. Before he could defuse the situation, Alexia gave a chilly smile and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. We’ve spent enough time getting to know each other already and discovered we’re completely incompatible. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”
Her icy smile skated over both of them before she turned heel and walked out.
Just walked right out the door.
It was a toss-up who was more shocked.
Blake, or her father.
Looked as if he didn’t have quite as much charm as he’d thought.
“Excuse me,” the admiral said stiffly before following her. Blake deemed it wise to stay where he was. Neither would welcome his presence at this point.
But he wasn’t willing to let it go, let her go. Blake looked around.
There.
He made his way across the room to a small cluster of people.
“Excuse me,” he interrupted, not caring about protocol or manners at this point. “Michael, I need to speak with you.”
Alexia’s brother’s eyes widened as he realized who Blake was. He did a visual up and down, taking in the uniform, then offered a morose shake of his head. “Yep, we should talk.”
He cheerfully excused himself from the couple, then gestured toward the same door Blake had tried to get Alexia through earlier. At least one of the Pierce siblings was willing to take a walk under the moonlight with him.
“I didn’t know you were navy,” Michael said as soon as they cleared the French doors. With an elegant wave of his hand, he indicated they sit on the bench swing.
“Does it matter?” Blake asked, not wanting to sit since he saw this as more an interrogation than a friendly chat. Leaning comfortably against the wooden back, one foot cocked over his knee, Michael didn’t seem to care.
“Not to me.”
“But it matters to Alexia,” Blake guessed. “Why didn’t she say anything?”
“Well, it’s not like you had an in-depth discussion there on the beach.” Then he gave Blake a searching look, arched both brows and asked, “Unless you had a little tête-à-tête after the beach encounter?”
SEALs didn’t break that easily. Apparently a denial or confirmation wasn’t necessary. Michael gleefully dived right into conclusionville. “Ooh, this is juicy. Where did you hook up? And did you? Hook up, I mean? Obviously you did. No wonder she was all airy-fairy this evening. This is probably why she didn’t want to bring Dr. Darling to the shindig.”
“Who?”
“Some guy,” Michael dismissed with another wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter. What matters are the details. When did you get together, where were you and what are your intentions? Those are the questions that need answering.”
“What 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
