two have fun,” she said. Flicking a challenging look at Alexia, she leaned against Blake, pressing so tight her silicone squished out the sides of her tank top. She sank both hands into the sides of his neck, pulled his head down and slapped a slurpy wet kiss on his shocked mouth.
“Just in case you change your mind,” the blonde said when she released him.
Grinding her teeth, Alexia almost reached over Blake’s shoulder and smacked the smile off the blonde’s face. Whether it was just her nature, or a by-product of the red hair, anger was an emotion she visited daily. But jealousy was brand-new to her. Trying to tamp down the green-eyed gnawing fury in her belly, she decided it wasn’t one she liked.
Still, her fingers curled into a fist and her eyes narrowed as she sized up the other woman. At five-ten and dedicated to her gym membership, Alexia was pretty sure she could take her.
“I guess I’ll join my friends now,” the blonde said, looking a little afraid.
Subliminal messaging at its best.
Realizing that she still had her hand fisted, Alexia took a deep, calming breath and relaxed her fingers. Then, because she really needed the rest of her body to relax, too, she shifted away from Blake. Touching him was anything but calming. It took another deep breath before she had enough control to put on a friendly expression and walk around to face him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, shaking his head as he watched Blondie sashay away. Like if he took his eyes off her before she’d reached a safe distance, she might ricochet back and plaster herself all over his body. “She wasn’t interested in hearing no.”
“It’s a hard word for some people to accept,” Alexia agreed with a grimace, thinking of her dinner date. “I spent most of my upbringing trying to get people to listen when I said no. Or yes. Or anything, actually.”
She tried to laugh away her discomfort at oversharing. Communication was important. But it was a two-way street, not a one-way emotional dump. Blake didn’t look uncomfortable, though. More...curious.
“You don’t seem like a wimp to me,” he said after a long contemplation.
“Well, aren’t you the sweet talker,” she said, both amused and relieved. Not that she figured on tossing him over her shoulder and carrying him off to have her wicked way with his body or anything—mostly because he was too heavy to carry. But she’d hate to think that she was on par with the barracuda when it came to scaring guys off.
“Sweet talk is a game, isn’t it?” he said. Then he shrugged. “I don’t play games.”
Ooh. Intriguing. If his sexy body hadn’t already caught her interest, the idea of finding out if he was for real—or if that statement was simply a game in itself—would have hooked her for sure.
“That must be tough, being a nongame kind of guy in an arena like this.” She twirled her fingers, indicating the lights, the bar, the bodies. “In here, like in life, almost everyone is playing a game of some kind.”
He looked around the bar, his expression blank. Just a little lost. As if he wasn’t sure how he’d got there. Alexia’s heart clenched. He was so wounded. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. Let him rest his head on her breasts while she combed her fingers through his dark hair.
Her nipples tightened as if preparing for just that.
What’d happened that he felt so much pain? Maybe if she got him talking, he’d open up. Let it out so he could start healing.
Radiating damp heat and fresh off the dance floor, a guy tried to get past her to order a drink. Alexia wedged herself between Blake’s body and the bar stool. Now it wasn’t the music throbbing through her body. It was desire, hot, intense and needy. Nothing wrong with that. She was a red-blooded woman with a healthy appreciation for her sexuality. Didn’t mean she was going to act on it.
Maybe.
* * *
BLAKE WATCHED the sexy redhead closely, mulling over her comment. He didn’t like to think of himself as a game player. But she was right. Everyone probably did play games in one way or another. Hell, the military called them war games. A test, pitting man against man. Even man against himself. The endurance and strength training, weren’t those games of sorts?
And the mental gyrations he’d been playing before the blonde had tried to dig her lethal claws into him. It’d be a game, pure and simple, trying to convince himself that he’d exaggerated Alexia’s impact in his mind. That she wasn’t as sexy, as gorgeous, as appealing as he remembered.
But now that she was standing in front of him again? She had the same impact as an unexpected fist to the gut. Shocking, intense and demanding an instant response.
Her personality was as bubbly as her looks. Fiery curls, golden skin and molten dark eyes topped a body that made a man want to get on his knees to offer thanks...among other things.
The memory of her body, each and every delicious curve of it highlighted by tiny scraps of purple fabric, was etched in his mind. So he didn’t begrudge the loose fit of her dress, high at the neck but leaving her shoulders bare, the turquoise pleats barely skimming the tips of her breasts before draping to midthigh. Her legs were bare. Yards of silky golden leg stretched between the bottom of her dress and skyscraper heels.
“So,” she said after a long pause, her voice a little breathless. He wondered where her mental trip had taken her. And what kind of games it’d included. And if he’d been there. Maybe naked.
“So,” she said again, clearing her throat then giving him a bright, friendly but not flirty smile. “What brings you to a club like this? It doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“Why not?”
“This is navyland,” she said, waving her hand around the room. “Soldiers and sailors, this is their hangout. Most guys avoid it unless they’re stationed at Coronado.”
Blake frowned into his beer before taking a drink.
“You don’t think I belong here?”
He didn’t know how to take that. He’d joined the navy the day after he’d graduated high school, and had found his home. His place in the world. With the SEALs, he’d found family. He’d never wanted to be anything else.
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got the body and the, well, energy, to be a sailor boy,” she said, her tone still teasing as she gave him a slow once-over. Her big brown eyes slid from his face and down his body. Proving he was alive and doing damn well, his body stirred in reaction. Hardened.
“But?” he prodded when her eyes stayed a little too long on his jeans. A few more seconds and she was going to be seeing a whole different terrain down there.
“But you don’t have that bravado I usually associate with soldiers,” she said a little breathlessly, looking into his eyes again.
“Bravado, hmm? Is that a requirement, something they issue along with the uniform?” He grinned. Maybe Cade was right. Maybe he was burned out. He liked the sound of that better than wallowing in grief. Whatever it was, he kinda liked that Alexia didn’t know he was a sailor. With her, he wasn’t Lieutenant Landon, decorated Navy SEAL, radioman, linguist and teammate. He wasn’t a finely honed
