Читать книгу Call To Redemption - Tawny Weber - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDARBY FELT AS if she’d dropped into some sort of alternate universe. The kind where mornings started with alcohol-infused frozen drinks, fresh fruit and malasadas.
Where breakfast was served on the patio of a cozy bungalow overlooking the ocean, with the sun already warming her skin, which was bare but for a vivid purple bikini and a wrap in the bleeding colors of sunset.
Where her body still buzzed from a night of amazing sex, aching in places she hadn’t realized could ache. Her thighs still quivered whenever she moved her legs, inciting a tingling sort of heat.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Darby said, her smile fluttering. “Just enjoying breakfast.”
And the view.
Although she didn’t mean the white sands and blue water, although they were stunning in the morning light. Nope, what fascinated her was the gorgeous man sitting across the table.
His hypnotic eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses, and the sun glinted off the inky black of his hair, casting a gilded glow over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for swimming in navy trunks and a matching T-shirt that molded itself over tempting muscles.
Muscles she’d explored, enjoyed, embraced over and over last night. Biceps almost as thick as her thigh and ripped shoulders broad enough to hold on to no matter how wild the ride. And his skin. Hot silk over rigid strength.
Grabbing her frozen breakfast cocktail, Darby sucked up a long drink of juice to wet her suddenly dry mouth. But the icy drink did nothing to cool the fire in her belly. Her body still tingled from the remnants of their shower sex-induced orgasms, and all she wanted was to go again.
How could she be this obsessed?
She’d only known the man for twelve hours.
It was just sex, she assured herself. Desire.
That wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Another malasada?”
“I should say no,” Darby said even as she reached for another sugar-coated ball of fried dough. “But I can’t. These are delicious. Better than any donut holes I’ve had before.”
“They’re my favorites,” Dominic admitted, studying one before popping it into his mouth. “When I was a kid, Avo Celia used to make malasadas whenever I’d visit because she knew I loved them. Just like this, covered in cinnamon sugar. My uncle gave the chef his mom’s recipe, so it’s always a little bit of nostalgia when I’m here.”
“It must be great to have that sort of family tradition,” she said, liking how his face softened as he talked about them.
What was that like, having a treat-making grandmother? Darby’s mom’s parents had died before she was born, and her dad’s hadn’t had much interest in their son, let alone his progeny. Both were only children, which meant there hadn’t been any aunts or uncles to fill that family role. No family, no family treats. Something Darby had never regretted until just now. Because, damn, it would have been amazing to grow up with a family tradition of delicious fried dough balls.
“Did you have a favorite meal growing up? You know, like a birthday dinner or holiday brunch?” Dominic asked, looking like he actually cared.
The idea sent a thrill of delight through her, making Darby wish she could say yes.
“I forgot about my last birthday until it was two days passed,” Darby admitted with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “But when I remembered, I hit Starbucks for an iced smoked butterscotch latte. It wasn’t a tradition but it was damn good.”
“You forgot about your birthday? As in, you were so deep in work that you didn’t realize what day it was and skipped right by it?” Dominic popped a slice of mango into his mouth and shook his head. “I’ve been away, on...on jobs, traveling, that kind of thing, on my birthday, but I always make damn sure I at least knock back a Scotch to toast another year.”
“Every year?” Not sure why that impressed her, Darby ran her fingers through her still-damp-from-the-shower hair, widening her eyes as it fell in spikes around her face. “Do you do that blowing-out-the-candle thing, too?”
“You’re telling me you don’t even blow out candles?”
“So?” The look on his face made Darby want to squirm. “My family was never big on the whole party or candles thing. I think the last time was maybe my seventeenth birthday when my brother got me a cupcake.”
“A single cupcake?”
“The frosting had a flower on it,” Darby said, wondering why she felt the need to apologize.
“And the rest of your family?”
“I don’t have much of a family. No aunts or uncles, my grandparents died before I was born.” She rolled the remaining malasada around on her plate. No delicious family recipes handed down, no real traditions. She dusted the sugar from her fingers and shrugged. “My parents divorced when I was five, then my dad died. So mostly it was just my mom, brother and I.”
“Were you close?”
“No.”
Sure, her mom and brother had been close. So close that her mom hadn’t had much room—or need—for her. But with five years between her and Danny, he’d had his own life. His own interests. Still, he’d cared enough to make a fuss about her birthday once. But he’d left her. He’d joined the Navy, decided he had something stupid to prove. And died.
Her mouth trembled as she tried to keep her smile in place. Not because she was upset or hurting. Hell, no. She’d spent almost a decade teaching herself not to wallow in grief. But she’d forgotten how nice it’d always been when Danny fussed about her birthday.
“Seriously.” Darby shrugged off the dragging sadness and returned to their earlier topic. “Don’t you think candles are on par with kids beating on piñatas or scary clowns making balloon dogs?”
“I think every year we mark off should be noted in a special way. You think we should stop celebrating life when we hit a certain age?”
“You make it sound as if you like getting older.”
“Don’t you think it beats the hell out of the alternative?” Dominic considered another malasada, rolling it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into his mouth. “I like to think that someday, I’ll be blowing out eighty or ninety candles on a big ol’ cake covered in chocolate frosting.”
“Chocolate?”
“I do love me some chocolate.”
“Mmm, chocolate,” she murmured. Darby didn’t know if it was the way he said it or if it was her oversexed imagination, but she had the sudden image of Dominic laid out on the bed covered in frosting so she could nibble and lick her way up his body, then back down again. “I have a sudden craving for a taste.”
“Maybe I’ll ask the chef to whip up a bowl of my favorite,” he suggested in a husky tone.
Darby knew what he was asking.
This was supposed to be a friendly morning-after breakfast. A friendly, mature way to end a very intense night of hot sex so it didn’t seem like a cheap one-night stand.
The way it was now, Darby could get up, grab the bag she’d brought back after a quick trip to her hotel room between bouts five and six and, with a friendly kiss on the cheek, end her vacation fling.
The door was wide-open, a neon sign flashing overhead a guarantee of no regrets or recriminations on either side. But only if she walked through that door in the next half hour.
If she stayed, if she agreed to chocolate frosting, she was making a commitment. The kind that said, yes, she’d be spending more of her vacation with this man. That instead of enjoying her next seven days at the resort alone, wallowing in doing anything and everything she wanted by herself, she’d spend at least some of that time with him.
The only commitment Darby was willing to make in life was to her career. That was the only thing she had control of, the only place she had any guarantee that her hard work, devotion and emotional investment would give any sort of return.
Unlike relationships, her career didn’t make unreasonable demands. Unlike friendships, her career didn’t let her down. Unlike family, her career didn’t break her heart.
Yet, as she stared at his compelling face across the breakfast table, she was tempted. And, hey, this was vacation. In normal life, she didn’t have random sex. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of gal.
Yet, here she was, having a vacation fling.
Sitting across the table from the man she’d had random sex with, contemplating the wisdom of extending one wild night into a weeklong frosting fest.
All she could do was shake her head.
“Well, I have to say this sure beats my normal morning routine.” She scooped up a spoonful of fruit, reveling in the burst of flavor from the fresh pineapple. “Why not see if we can beat my usual evening routine by enjoying a little chocolate frosting. Maybe you could pull some strings and get cupcakes to go with that frosting.”
“You want cupcakes, I’m your man. What’s your favorite flavor?” His smile flashed, and was so damn sexy that Darby almost squirmed in her seat. “We’ll combine mine and yours.”
Oh, how many images that brought to mind. Darby pressed her hand against the butterflies doing the tango in her belly. When had she become totally obsessed with sex?
She wanted to think all she felt for him was a physical attraction. Sure, maybe there was an energy between them, and she liked the way he talked. And yes, she liked the way he seemed to appreciate her strength, how he seemed to admire individuality. And there was something powerful about the intensity that seemed as much a part of him as his sexy smile.
Her gaze scanned the man across from her, noting the way the sun glinted of his muscles, how his smile seemed to reflect that light.
And suddenly she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why. She wasn’t worried about where it was going or what she was feeling.
She was on vacation.
She was simply going to enjoy it. Every delicious second of it.
“Chocolate,” Darby admitted. “Chocolate goes great with chocolate.”
* * *
“CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE, HMM? That sounds delicious.”
Intrigued, Nic watched the play of emotions chasing each other across Darby’s face. The woman was a study of conflicting emotions. Sweet one second, edgy the next. She spoke of that birthday cupcake with a hint of joy, then dismissed it with a voice that spoke of heartbreak. She enjoyed the meal with gusto, from fried dough to champagne-laced fruit juice, yet seemed satisfied to celebrate her belated birthday with a generic latte.
“Tell me more about these birthdays of yours.”
“What’s to tell? A year passes, age increases. Sometimes increase brings privileges, sometimes it brings wrinkles. And every once in a while, it includes candles, wishes and presents.”
From her tone, it was just that matter-of-fact. Nic wondered what had happened to make her that way. Was it simply a lack of sentiment or was it something more?
“What about holidays? Do you have a favorite?”
“Holidays?” Her eyes widened behind the big round lenses of her sunglasses. “You want to know my favorite holiday?”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ve put jobs, careers and personal-life details off-limits, right? So let’s talk generics. What’s your favorite holiday?”
“President’s Day.”
“Seriously?” Nic grinned.
“Seriously. It’s the one time of year that everyone in the country is equally enthusiastic about anything to do with political figures.”
Now that was a great point. Well argued, clever and devoid of any partisan inflection. Nic’s brows arched as he tucked away that fact.
“Favorite vacation spot?”
Darby waved her hand to indicate the beach.
Hanalei was his favorite, too, so Nic couldn’t fault her taste.
“Favorite pastime?”
“Work.”
“Work is your favorite pastime?”
“What can I say? I love my job.” She shrugged, the move making her breasts shift temptingly in that snug purple swimsuit. Yeah, beachside vacations in Hanalei were definitely his favorite.
“Me, too,” he admitted, totally feeling her. What he did, his career as a SEAL, as a team leader, a Navy Lieutenant Commander? That’s who he was. “I suppose it’s important to love what you do, to do what you love.”
“Even if it takes over your life to the point that you forget your birthday until two days later?” she teased.
Sure. But as involved as Nic was in his career, he’d never missed a birthday. Or rather, his friends—his team, his family—had never missed it. One year on a mission deep in the mountains of Afghanistan, he’d hunkered down in a cave, blowing out a match stuck in a MRE while the men of Poseidon sang an X-rated birthday ditty.
Did that speak to his ties to his team being too tight? Nic pondered that for the brief second it deserved, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Which left Darby’s ties being, well, nonexistent? Didn’t she have family? Friends who remembered? Who celebrated with her? For her?
A part of him—a part he barely recognized—was tempted to reach over and pull her into his arms for a hug. A hug?
What the hell? Nic mentally cringed.
Time to lighten things up, he decided.
“Favorite song?”
“‘All Summer Long.’”
“Kid Rock’s mash-up of Warren Zevon and Lynyrd Skynyrd.” He nodded when Darby inclined her head. “Nice.”
“How about you?” she asked, sipping the last of her drink with a slurp. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Hurt Locker.”
“Hmm, intense military flick starring hottie Jeremy Renner. Nice,” she returned with a smile, pushing her cleaned breakfast dish aside and leaning her elbows on the table to lean toward him. “Favorite color?”
“Purple.”
Obviously picking up the humor in his tone, Darby arched her brows. But to her credit, she didn’t ask. Instead, she kept the game going. “How about your favorite treat?”
You.
But just in case his taste for her was a fluke, he went with his second favorite since he’d enjoyed it a lot more often.
“Snickers.”
“Mmm, nuts, nougat and caramel. Great choice.” Darby flashed a wicked smile. “Favorite position?”
“Now that’s a tough question.” His smile was slow and appreciative. “I was pretty into the ones we tried out last night. The standing in the shower this morning was pretty sweet, too.”
“But?”
Tempting, but Nic refrained from going smart-ass and went with honesty instead.
“But I think in some things, I simply don’t have a favorite. I’m willing to give it some time, to experiment with a variety of positions and compare notes. You know, see if we can find a mutual favorite.”
“I like that,” she said, sounding delighted. “It shows an open mind and a willingness to experiment.”
“Babe, when it comes to experimentation, I’m all for doing it until I’ve got it right.”
Darby’s laugh danced over the sound of the surf, filling Nic with an easy pleasure. Damn if he wasn’t actually looking forward to the next few days of leave now, with her here to enjoy it with.
“So. Last question,” she promised as she stood. Her fingers made quick work of the fabric knotted at her waist. The watercolor hues slid off the temptation of her hips, leaving her standing in a bikini the color of crushed grapes. As bikinis went, it wasn’t exactly skimpy. The bottom rose high in the sides and came nearly to her belly button, while the halter-style top showed a delicious view of her cleavage, but mostly covered those lush breasts.
Damn.
His brain went blank as the blood drained south.
“So.” Nic cleared his threat. “What’s your question?”
“I’m just wondering what are your plans for the rest of the morning?”
“I’m supposed to meet my cousin, catch a few waves,” Nic said absently, watching as she looked up the beach one way, then down the other. “But I can blow that off.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as she reached behind her neck with one hand, behind her back with the other. The move made her breasts thrust out, and put his body on full alert.
He tried to clear his head when Darby tilted her head to one side as if waiting for his answer. Really wanting to see what she’d do next, he hurried to give it to her.
“Yep. Sure. Definitely.” He sat up a little straighter. “I’m positive.”
With that and a flick of her fingers, the top of her bikini dropped away. Leaving her standing there, the sun glinting off those cherry-tipped breasts and making his mouth water.
“Why don’t we try a few of those positions and see if we can make up your mind.”
* * *
MMM, YEAH. DARBY stretched her body out on the padded beach recliner, her flesh tingling as her toes dug into the warm sand and the sun drenched her supersensitized body with soothing rays. Her skin slathered with SPF 40 and her sunglasses shielding half her face, she stared out at the ocean in fascination.
Hours ago, she’d ridden Dominic’s body the way he was riding those ocean waves. With the same enthusiasm, the same verve and—she tilted her head to the side—hopefully with the same skill.
She was going to go with a yes to that last part since he’d seemed to enjoy himself.
Almost as much as she had. And why not. The man’s body was like sculpted gold glittered with diamond-like sparkles of the ocean’s spray. Darby spent a good five minutes watching Nic surf, wondering how the guy’s muscles were impressive even from this distance. Not quite as impressive as they were up close and personal, but it was still enough to make her mouth a little dry.
Was it that body, though? Or was it his personality that had her so hooked? She’d never met a guy who challenged her brain, made her laugh and turned her on all at the same time.
It was a little scary how much she’d liked it.
Desperate for distraction, she grabbed her ever-present cell phone and auto-dialed. It only took five minutes for her to wish she’d found a different distraction.
“Let me get this straight,” Grace said, dragging the words out in her surprise. “You, Darby Raye, ballbuster extraordinaire, woman who no man can con into anything, a chick with a deep mistrust of anything even approaching the emotional level, is having an affair with a stranger.”
Cringing, Darby pressed the phone closer to her ear, then realized it was stupid to worry about the people around her on the beach overhearing that she was doing the naked mambo on vacation. Smarter would be to wonder what she was doing making such a huge confession by phone with her secretary. She was so not the touchy-feely sharesy type.
But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“He’s not a stranger.”
“You met the guy last night,” Grace argued.
“Have you ever met someone and felt an instant connection. Not some soul-mate romantic drivel connection,” Darby quipped before Grace could finish the aww sound she’d started. “Just a connection. Like, you understood them. Even without all those random details, you feel as if you know them well enough to relax and be yourself.”
Leaning back in the lounge chair, Darby slurped up a deep sip of her smoothie to the sound of silence.
“Go ahead,” she finally said, figuring Grace would grind the enamel off her teeth trying to bite back her opinion. “Say it.”
“First, I want to know that you’re really Darby Raye and that you’re not responding under duress. So answer these questions three. First, what color is your desk chair? Second, what was the last thing we ate together? And third, who irritates you the most in the office?”
This time it was Darby who went aww, although she kept the comment in her mind. There was something seriously sweet about having someone care enough to ask silly questions that most stalkers wouldn’t have a clue the answers to, just to be sure that Darby wasn’t being forced into multiple beachside vacation orgasms against her will. Especially since Darby knew that if she answered any one of them with anything but Grace’s expected response, the other woman would be on the phone to the authorities, pulling every legal string and connection she could to ensure Darby’s safety.
It was the first time that Darby could remember anyone caring that much about her, and it was kind of touching.
“My desk chair is aubergine, and don’t try to say that it’s purple because we both know I won that argument when I showed you the receipt. The last meal we had together was some weird tofu stir-fry thing you insisted I try, but you know perfectly well I threw my portion in the trash as soon as you left the room.” Darby waited for Grace’s relieved laughter to fade before answering the last part. “And third, I’d say that giggly brunette with the huge teeth in research irritates me the most, but I think this is a trick question.”
“Since you nailed the first two, I’ll give you a pass on the trick question,” Grace replied. “Just tell me you’re being careful.”
“Are you asking if I’m having safe sex?”
“Darby!” Grace’s gasp was half giggles.
“C’mon, remember to whom you’re talking,” Darby reminded her with a laugh. “You said it yourself. I’m made of mistrust. Added to that, I’m trained to read people. To understand body language, and to take care of myself. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing? You don’t know his last name. You don’t know where he works or what he does for a living. You don’t even know if he lives in the United States. None of that merits a little worry?”
Darby grimaced. She was already regretting mentioning Dominic in any way, let alone confessing her trip into sexual nirvana. Since she hadn’t kept her mouth shut, she shifted to damage control.
“I know his first name. The owner of the resort, an upstanding citizen who, according to the framed photos in the lobby, is on a first-name basis with numerous elected officials, as well as three Navy Admirals, is his uncle. I know that whatever he does for a living involves using his body—and given the quality of said body, he’s damn good at what he does.”
She waited while Grace made a low humming noise, then asked, “So when you get back, are you going to fill me in on the details of what he does with that body?”
“Isn’t that a little tacky?” Darby said as she leaned her head back on the thick lounge cushion and tried to keep from laughing. “I’ll plead the Fifth on that.”
“Appropriate.”
This time Darby didn’t try to hide her laugh. But she did try to reassure her friend.
“Grace, I’m good at taking care of myself. I promise, I’m not in danger.”
“Okay, but please check in every once in a while, just so I don’t worry.”
Darby wanted to roll her eyes. She was a grown woman. She couldn’t remember a single time any of her family had asked her to check in, let alone shown any worry for her. She wanted to tell Grace to quit being such a worrywart and chill out.
“I promise,” she said instead. Then, because feeling all gooey inside made her uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “So how’s everything in the office? Any exciting new cases?”
“Um, yeah. About that. I don’t want to put a pall on your wild vacation fling or anything, but you should probably know that a certain ex has been in and out of the offices more than once this week.”
Darby’s smile fell away as she pictured Paul Thomas. She didn’t shift from her lounging position, but her body tensed all the same. She tried to ignore the guilt trickling down the back of her throat.
“Did you tell him I was away?” Darby resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She wouldn’t put it past Paul to follow her on vacation.
“Please,” Grace sniffed. “You know perfectly well that I wouldn’t tell him anything. But I never got a chance to show off my discretion because he never actually stopped by your office. Word is he did stop by Carson’s office, though.”
Why was Paul chatting up the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office?
Her unseeing gaze locked on the waves, Darby’s mind raced. He was up to something. But what? He couldn’t get her fired for dumping him, and besides, that wasn’t his style. She could easily imagine him romancing another woman in the office to make her jealous. But she couldn’t see him risking his own reputation by involving her boss in some scheme to get her attention.
She adjusted her sunglasses and blew out a long breath.
Odds were, he was simply playing it up to get her to call. He was playing her. It was totally his style.
She squirmed a little in her chair, shifting her weight from the right to the left and back again. Curiosity was so damn hard to ignore.
“Is he actually spending time with Carson? It could be completely legit. Maybe he’s there to talk about a case for the Judge Advocate General’s office.”
Her fingers tapping a rhythm on her bare knee, Darby considered that possibility. She wouldn’t put it past Paul to make it look as if he had some big case to try to get her attention. She wouldn’t put anything past him, actually. The man had followed her across the country, for God’s sake.
On the other hand, working with the JAG office would not only be the perfect feather in her cap, but it was also quite likely the type of case that would snag her that spot in the National Security Division.
She wanted that spot. But how tangled were the strings going to be if she paired up with Paul to get it?
“I’ve only caught a couple of his visits, and they were short. Like, ten-minutes-or-less short. But I heard he’s been in other times.” Before worry could dig its teeth too deep in Darby’s gut, Grace continued, “I’m going to lunch with Carson’s secretary tomorrow, though. She won’t gossip, but Susan likes me. I’ll find out as much as I can.”
And that, Darby realized, was just one more reason why Grace was the perfect secretary. The woman had her back whether she was in the office or not.
“You’ll keep me in the loop?”
“Guaranteed. Oops, there’s the other line. Gotta go.” With that, and a quick goodbye, Grace hung up.
And Darby was left trying to shake off the feeling that she needed to get her ass back to San Diego. But she was under orders to take her vacation time. Going back—going into the office—would ruin the whole facade that she cared about work-life balance, and likely jeopardize her shot at a promotion. She was better off toeing the line, sticking with the vacation plan and letting Grace do her stealthy thing.
She knew that was smart thinking. She knew it was the right choice. But she still wondered how much was justification. Because an equal truth was that she was having a great time enjoying this little fantasy she and Dominic had going.
For the first time in as far back as she could remember, she’d found something more intriguing, more inspiring, more demanding than her career.
Call it passion.
Call it lust.
Call it fascination.
Hell, call it work-life balance.
Darby pressed a hand against her belly to try to quiet the dancing butterflies.
Whatever she called it, she knew it wasn’t for her career that she was staying in Hawaii for the rest of the week.
No.
It was for Dominic, pure and simple.
