pockets of her jeans. Clearly there was something else she hadn’t mentioned. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. The idea of him and the mayor having lunch was ridiculous. Ten years ago, Tucker had been just starting out as the county’s assistant D.A., with a lot of ambition and an oft-shared goal of getting losers like Brody off the streets.
“I don’t serve for appreciation,” he said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended.
Genna opened her mouth, that full lower lip glistening with temptation. Then she snapped it shut and shrugged. He’d like to think that meant she was done and would leave, but he was starting to realize that she had a stubborn streak wider than his own.
“Your grandmother is worried about you. If you don’t want to meet with the mayor and discuss getting a little of the recognition you deserve, fine. But at least talk to your gramma.” She lifted both hands in the air, the gesture matching the exasperation on her face. “Why did you come home if you were only going to hide out?”
Good question.
Brody’s scowl deepened when he couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Time to go.” He reached out, wrapping his hand around her arm to turn her in the direction of the door. But the move put pressure on his bad leg so he had to shift his weight to compensate. And ended up way too close to Genna.
Close enough to feel her body heat.
Close enough that her scent, teasing before, grabbed him in a choke hold, not letting go.
Close enough that he could see the darker rings of blue around her pupils, could see the individual lashes that made up the lush fringe around her eyes.
He yanked his hand away.
“If you wanted, maybe we could go to lunch instead.” Her words were low and husky with curiosity, her eyes hinting at nerves and something more. Something that grabbed at Brody, made him want the impossible. “If you just needed someone to talk to, someone to help you deal with all the emotional stuff you’re facing, I’m a good listener.”
“You want to have lunch and talk?” he asked, sure he’d heard her wrong. “About my emotions?”
“If that’s what you wanted.”
Hell, no. He didn’t talk missions, he didn’t talk about the military. And he sure as hell didn’t talk about emotions.
Brody pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to rub away the tangle she was making of his thoughts.
“You should talk to someone, Brody. Your gramma, me, anyone. You’re hurt and you’re back in Bedford for the first time since you left. That has to mean something.” She paused, taking a deep breath that made him want to slide his lips along her collarbone, then she reached out. Her fingers came within millimeters of touching his arm, but didn’t make contact. It was as if she was testing the electrical charge between them, seeing how potent it was.
The hairs on his arm stood up, his entire body reacting as if she’d slid those fingers over him. Touching, soft and gentle, everywhere.
“I don’t talk,” he said, irritated that the words were mellow, not abrupt.
“Not even about our night?” She gave a tiny wince, as if she knew she’d crossed a line. Then, typical of the Genna he remembered, now that she’d crossed it, she danced all over the other side. “I never forgot it.”
“You need to leave.” He’d said the words to her so many times, they were like a catchphrase now.
“Brody—”
No. He couldn’t deal with this now. Not her, not the memories. Not the feelings she was stirring up.
“Don’t make me do something you’ll regret,” he warned quietly.
For a second, Genna stilled.
Then, damn her, she gave a soft little laugh and pressed her hand against his chest. Not to push him away. Simply to touch.
Her fingers burned his flesh, fired his needs.
“You won’t hurt me,” she said quietly, the absolute confidence in her tone baffling. Did she really trust him that much? Did she have no clue the things he’d done, the things he’d seen?
“I won’t have to hurt you.”
There were so many other things he could do to her. With her. On her and under her.
Her letters, always there tucked away in a private corner of his mind, surfaced. The door he’d slammed shut flew open, giving him access he hadn’t allowed himself since his last mission.
The memories of those letters were a reward, a treat. Special. Something he’d enjoyed as he reveled in how freaking awesome his life was. The words played through his mind. The images of caramel, pulsating water and blue silk all crashed together in his brain in a huge, horny wave of need.
He wasn’t interested in need, though.
He just wanted to be left alone. Physically, and mentally.
As always, he used the tools at hand to win the battle. He didn’t go for guilt himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to wield it with laser precision.
It was only fair that he give her one last warning before he moved in.
“We’re done. You delivered your invites. I turned them down. Time to go.” His tone was low, menacing. He shifted his weight just enough, pulling back his shoulders and angling his chin so he loomed over her.
Intimidating.
She swallowed loud enough for him to hear her teeth click. Her pulse raced. He could see it thrumming in her throat. But her expression didn’t change. She just kept looking at him with that cheerful smile and calm eyes.
Damn, she was something.
And something was the last thing he needed in his life right now.
* * *
WELL, THIS WASN’T going very well. Genna didn’t know what she’d thought would happen when she talked to Brody. She hadn’t let herself imagine that far, figuring the reality was going to be so much better than anything she’d imagined.
Disappointment sat hard and tight in her belly.
She hadn’t let herself imagine what it would be like. But she’d entertained a few worries about what she’d hoped it wouldn’t. Like that he’d be holding a grudge for that night before he’d left for the navy. Or that he’d be involved with someone, possibly serious. Or maybe that he’d only see her as Joe’s little sister and want to talk about her brother.
Turns out she hadn’t worried nearly enough. She needed to work on that.
“You’re not leaving.” His statement was so matter-of-fact, it was as though he was simply accepting the inevitable.
Genna wanted to smile, to pretend they could move on to rebuilding—okay, building outside of her imagination—their relationship. But she wasn’t
