The innuendo in her voice only turned the knife in his chest. His mother had been nudging Josh toward Grace since they’d met at one of the team’s first homecomings, when his parents had flown out to the west coast to visit. That had ended, of course, once Beck and Grace were married, but started up again when they’d come to see him in the hospital and found Grace asleep in the chair beside his bed. “Jesus, Mom, don’t start.”
“I’m starting nothing,” she said in her crisp, matter-of-fact tone. “There was something between you two years ago. You always did make things more complicated than they had to be.” A quick sigh transitioned into “I’ve got to go. Your favorite peach pies are cooking, and I don’t want to hear you bitch about burnt crust. Love you, son.”
A reluctant smile turned his mouth. “Love you too.”
Josh disconnected, and the second he looked back up toward Grace’s apartment, she came down the stairs. She was dressed in shin-length workout pants and a sporty tank top, her long hair wound into a messy knot on the back of her head. And, shit, that outfit framed every luscious curve and toned muscle in her tight little body.
In flip-flops again despite the cold, rainy December day, she jumped a puddle with angelic grace and half jogged, half skipped to her car. His heart lifted, squeezed, and ached, all at the same time. She was the most adorable little thing on the face of the fucking planet. So much stronger, smarter, and more savvy than he’d given her credit for. And way sexier. Way.
He could have had her last night. Had that strong, slim body wound up in his. Could have felt every part of her. Touched and tasted his fill. Driven deep inside her. Been surrounded by her. Could have heard her whisper, moan, scream his name. His name.
She could have been his. Even if just for the night. Hell, just for the moment.
After feeling her in his arms, experiencing the passion she kept bottled up, he knew making love to her would blow his fucking mind. He craved the luxury of giving himself over to the desire, a desire that would turn into an all-consuming passion if he really let himself go.
The only thing he’d ever wanted as much as he wanted Grace now, was to become a SEAL.
And at the moment, he had neither.
Grace slipped into her piece-of-shit ’90s-something Honda and cranked the engine three times before it started.
He swore under his breath. She shouldn’t even be living in this neighborhood, let alone driving a car that could break down on her. She pulled away from the curb, and Josh let her get two blocks ahead before he followed.
His cell rang with a blocked number, and he answered through his car’s automated system. “Marx.”
“Did you find her?” Beck asked over a crackling connection.
Josh’s mind flashed with the memory of pushing her wet shirt up, skimming his hands up her tight, warm belly, taking her plump, soft breasts in his hands, and covering one rosy-tipped mound with his mouth. His eyes closed on an involuntary moan, and he cleared his throat to cover. His desire turned him inside out with lust…and clenched his stomach with guilt.
“Yes, I found her,” he said. “And she’s fine.”
“What’s going on with her? Why isn’t she calling me back?”
She’d never given him an answer about that. “She’s working,” he ad-libbed. “It’s Christmas. She’s just busy, dude. We didn’t get much time to talk. But you don’t have to worry about her. I’m checking everything out, making sure she’s square.”“Oh, great,” Beck exhaled in relief. “I know you haven’t had much time. It’s just that we’re headed out again, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to call. The targets weren’t where they were supposed to be. Lousy fucking CIA intelligence.”
Josh pictured the team wandering around in the background, collecting equipment, checking gear. Knew there would be an intense silence over the camp as they all focused on the mission. A sustained adrenaline level almost tangible in the air. Hell, he missed that. And a hot streak of envy only added to the mess in Josh’s chest.
He followed Grace through town at a safe distance. She was headed toward Balboa Park, away from the high school where she taught the cheerleading squad, away from the club.
“What about the strip club?” Beck asked.
Fuck. Josh stopped at a red light with Grace four cars in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut. He just couldn’t break this kind of news to Beck over the phone. Besides, Josh was realizing it wasn’t any of Beck’s damn business—any more than it was Josh’s. But…shit. This nagging sense of loyalty felt like a goddamned trick monkey on his back.
“She’s not stripping,” he said. “I don’t know what that guy thought he saw. I’m telling you he had to be plastered off his ass, or maybe he was just trying to rile you—”
“Thank God. I didn’t know what I was going to do if she was working at a strip joint.”
“I hate to keep pointing this out to you, buddy,” Josh said, growing annoyed. “But it’s not your call anymore.”
“So, is she seeing anyone?”
“Are you listening to me?” Josh lifted both hands off the steering wheel in a what-the-fuck gesture. This was that dense part of Beck that made Josh crazy. “What the hell difference does that make?”
“Relax. I’m just asking.”
The line of cars started moving again, but an odd and deepening nagging sensation played at the base of his neck. Josh suddenly realized he didn’t know if she was seeing anyone. He’d assumed she wasn’t because of what happened between them, but… The possibility that she had a guy in the wings was an uncomfortable thought.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully, more to himself than to Beck. “I don’t think so.”