Off Base (5 page)

“I’m not much of a fan of dinner parties.” He cleared his throat into the silence. “You ever hear of murder mystery dinner theater?” She shook her head slowly, as if trying to discern his angle. “There’s a place down in Atlanta—Agatha’s, I think it’s called. From the time my sister and I entered middle school, my mother used to drag us there for our birthdays. These actors would put on a big whodunit on stage while everyone ate ribs.”

A spark lit her eyes. “So bad it was good?”

“Exactly.”
Oh God, she’s so damn pretty and I’m stuck talking about dinner theater
. “We started off hating it every time, but then my mother, she’d start laughing. She’d laugh so loud, the actors would forget their lines. Soon none of us could keep a straight face.” He shrugged. “I think that’s why I can’t enjoy dinner parties anymore. They pale in comparison.”

“I hate be the bearer of bad news, True Blue, but this one is going to keep the disappointment streak alive.”

“Now, see, you missed the point of the story.” Beck sidestepped an ottoman and risked a move in her direction. “I was going to tell you that this dinner party already beat the others. Just from having you walk in.”

The plastic bag of beef jerky hit the floor, spilling its contents. On reflex, Beck stooped down to pick it up, which was a grave mistake if he’d ever made one because it put him eye level with her thighs. He tangled a hand in the plastic bag so he wouldn’t touch her. Ducked his head so he wouldn’t look, either. Just a peek had been enough to dry his throat and make his dress pants feel three sizes too small.

He started to shove the packets of jerky back into the bag, but stilled when he felt Kenna’s hand brush over his shaved head. “I told you, Major. You’re allowed to look at my body.”

“Not right now, I can’t.” His tone was harsh so he softened it. “Wouldn’t be right in your father’s house.”

She hummed in a low, soothing way that made him close his eyes. “Not a lot of men would care.”

“Those men aren’t worthy of your time.” He twisted the plastic in his fist. “Speaking of which, I’d like to know if you’re spoken for, Kenna.”

“No. I don’t let men speak for me.” A few beats of silence passed during which thick, consuming tension drained from Beck. “Why aren’t you pissed at me?” she asked, her nails trailing down his neck and back up. “For not telling you who I was.”

Her touch was torture and he never wanted her to stop. Ever. But he forced himself to move away before he lost the battle and looked at her legs. Maybe even let his hands encounter that supple skin. “I’m not pissed about that. I’m only curious why.” Beck rose from his crouched position, watching her breath go shallow when he reached his full height. Did she
like
tall men? He hoped so. “I’m only angry that you left. Before I could…”

“Before you could what?” She moved closer, just close enough to graze his rib cage with her breasts and turn his cock to steel. “What would you have done to me, Major?”

Breathe, man. In and out.
“I won’t say the words under your father’s roof.”

She traced his belt buckle with a single finger. “But you would tell me outside?”

“Only if you’ll give me the chance to do what I say.”

Confusion and indecision flashed in her green eyes. “I assumed you would go out last night to celebrate being back. Finding a girl to pick up where I left off wouldn’t have been hard.” She swiped a palm against her skirt as she stepped back. “You didn’t…do that?”

“I went out for a couple beers by myself.” He hadn’t wanted to, but the silent gray apartment had forced him out, just to encounter the noise to which he’d grown accustomed, back in the bustling Army facility he’d lived in so long. He should have gone to find Cullen, have the discussion he’d been putting off, but he’d wanted to give his friend one more night with a clear conscience. A luxury Beck didn’t have. “There were girls there, yeah. Smiling and dancing. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the door hoping you might walk in.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. “Stop saying things like that to me.”

“Why?”

“I—you should save those pretty sentiments for someone who will appreciate them.”

The flush on her cheeks told Beck she appreciated them just fine, but he wouldn’t call her on it. Not just yet. She might get angry, and he had plans to kiss her this time around. “So you want me to detail how I’d like to touch you. You want me to look at your body, but you draw the line at me saying nice things.”

“That about sums it up.”

He scratched his jaw. “You’ve given me something to think on, Kenna.”

Sutton swung open the kitchen door then, calling them to the table. Beck threw a wink at Kenna and gestured for her to precede him.

* * *

Kenna twirled a forkful of pasta and let it unwind. Her appetite had apparently gone on sabbatical. Or the floating lust balloons bumping around in her stomach simply left no room for food. Although battling the urge to climb across the table and straddle the major’s lap was eminently wrong, considering her father sat three feet away, that’s exactly what she wanted to do. Highly unlike her in so many ways. She’d been at dozens of these dinners with her father, honoring one soldier or another. Mostly it turned out to be an excuse for the lieutenant general to relate his own stories. And usually the guest sent a discreet glance or nine at her cleavage throughout the meal. A perfect amount to remind her men only wanted one thing, thus justifying her plans to remain unattached. It wasn’t a cynical practice. Just a little reward for being practical. Seeing the male-female dynamic for what it was. A necessary function that rarely survived in the long term.

Beck hadn’t glanced at her rack once. Not once. He was a giant, sexy, unassuming phenomenon, and she didn’t like it. Upstairs in the old brain chamber, that is. The upstairs chamber that housed intelligent thought wanted to put him in a clean-cut category. One that made sense and didn’t throw her ideas about men into a freaking tailspin. Downstairs, however? Downstairs liked his resolve very much. Couldn’t wait to break through it when the timing was right. Shake him up again like she’d done yesterday.

Those were the two key parts of Kenna she was comfortable addressing. Upstairs and downstairs. The middle…the middle was off limits. That clumsy, clunking organ in her chest shouldn’t have sped up when Beck said sweet words. It should have disregarded them as a line. A ploy to get into her pants and finally lose that pesky virginity. And she might have pulled it off if he would just stop smiling that half smile at her across the table and start looking at her boobs and not her eyes. What was wrong with him? This bra was a man
assassin
, pushing those puppies up in a way that usually had members of the opposite sex groaning when she passed. She might as well be wearing a hockey jersey for all the attention Beck paid them.

Oh, it was on. In more ways than one. As soon as they were alone, she would snuff out this wayward blip on the radar screen and everything would make sense again. She’d slake her mega-watt—frankly,
embarrassing
—attraction for Beck tonight. He would head back to Georgia in a matter of days with his newfound knowledge of the female body and set to work using it right away, probably snatching up some chesty milkmaid or whatever the hell they had on tap down there. She’d be nothing but a fond memory to him and she could go back to meaningless, road trip hookups every few months.

Beck’s gaze met hers, one dark blond eyebrow cocked as if she’d voiced the thought aloud. Could this man read her mind? Back in the living room, she’d gotten that sense. Best to remember he was apparently one of the Army’s sharpest minds. Not
just
a peach farmer who not only remembered the manners he’d been taught, but stuck to them like Gorilla Glue.

“Are you sure you won’t stay past Wednesday night’s ceremony, Major Collier?”

The mind-reading major gave a reluctant head shake. “Much as I’d like to stay a while, sir, I need to be back in Georgia. My grandfather is getting on in years and needs help around the farm, harvesting the peaches and such.”

Her father wiped the corners of his mouth. “I try to imagine a mind like yours going toward peach farming and I just can’t. We need you training new recruits, here at Black Rock, passing on your problem-solving ability.”

“All due respect, sir, I put in my time.” His smile matched his good-natured tone. “I think you’d be surprised how much strategy goes into farming. My mind won’t be wasted; I’ll just be switching focus.”

Kenna took a long sip of her Diet Coke, watching Beck over the rim of her glass. No matter how personal or unintentionally condescending her father’s questions became, he kept his cool. Not a stutter or hesitation. He didn’t have to think about his answers because he was telling the truth. Somehow she didn’t have a single doubt of that. Not for the first time since they met, she wondered who would land this man. How easy it would be to trust him if a woman allowed herself.

During the course of the meal, she’d learned more about Beck’s time overseas. His ability to find patterns and devise unique and often diplomatic ways to ended crises. He’d had the option of coming home more than once, but had turned it down. Although Beck had mentioned to her father that going home and leaving behind his fellow soldiers hadn’t felt right, Kenna had a feeling it was more. While the major might be unassuming, she had a hunch Beck knew his talent made a difference. The kind between life and death.

“There’s a ceremony coming up?” Kenna asked, surprising herself. She hadn’t spoken since they’d sat down, unable to fit in a word edgewise around her father.

Beck looked uncomfortable for the first time that night. “There’s a medal ceremony I’ve been asked to attend—”

“Asked to attend?” Her father interrupted with a rumbling laugh. “He’s the honoree. Major Collier is being presented with a Silver Star.”

“Oh,” she whispered, wondering why he’d never mentioned it. Wasn’t an impending honor something a soldier would be proud of? Why did he look so uneasy? “Congratulations, Major.”

“Yes, congratulations,” Tina echoed with a smile as she rose from the table. Kenna stood to help her father’s wife remove the empty plates, but the older woman gestured for her to sit back down. “More whiskey, gentlemen?”

Kenna noticed Beck frowning at her nearly empty Diet Coke. “No, ma’am,” he said. “One was enough for me. It might be a short drive back to the barracks, but it’s still driving.”

Her father leaned back as Tina took away his plate and disappeared into the kitchen. “Have another, son. Kenna can drive you home. It’s on her way to the garage.”

While her pulse began pounding in her ears, Beck’s frown only deepened. “Garage?”

“I live in an apartment above a garage on the south perimeter of base,” she explained, before her father could jump in. “They let me use an empty warehouse downstairs for my work.”

“What work is that?”

Had his voice gotten deeper? Kenna suddenly felt like they were the only two people in the room, everything else blurring into nothingness as he zeroed in on her. Held her still under his regard. Oh God, she was going to drive him home. Just the knowledge that they would share the enclosed space of her car once more made her thighs squeeze together. “I’m a welder. I create metal sculptures.”

The right corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah?”

Before she could answer, Tina stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Joseph—I mean, Lieutenant General—there is a call for you. Colonel Wheeler.”

“I’ll take it in the study.” Her father slapped his chair’s armrests and stood. Beck immediately followed his lead. “I’m afraid this man is as long-winded as they come.” He nodded at Kenna. “It could be a while, so I won’t keep you sitting here. Both of you get home safe.”

Beck saluted her father and the older man followed suit before leaving the room.

Then they were alone again. The table seemed to shrink between them, as if tempting her to do as she craved—crawl across it and launch herself at Beck. He’d managed to hide every trace of desire for her during dinner, but how would he fare if they touched?

His easygoing demeanor had departed the room with her father. His cheekbones appeared more pronounced and tinged with red, his hands curled into fists.

“Ready to go?” she asked, inwardly cringing at the breathless quality of her voice.

“No.”

“No?”

His eyes cut to the side, then back. “If I stand up, you’re going to see what happens when you look at me that way for over an hour, Kenna.”

“What way is that?”

She could tell he was struggling not to look at her cleavage. Inside, she was begging him to, but his gaze remained locked on hers. “Like maybe you’re planning on doing something bad.”

Kenna could hear Tina washing dishes in the kitchen and knew from experience the woman wouldn’t seek Kenna out or re-enter the room. Working as a tech specialist, Tina had lived on base during Kenna’s wild streak and didn’t seem prepared to forget about it any time soon. She couldn’t be more grateful for the woman’s aversion to her now, though, because cracking Beck’s determination had just become a challenge she couldn’t refuse. He was an immovable rock staring her down from across the table, but she saw more. She saw desperation, pain and hunger—all for her—and she needed to be the one thing that could shake him. Save him. Just for tonight, she wanted to be someone’s requirement to go on breathing.

When she rose from the table, he interpreted her expression right away, shaking his head. “What are you doing?”

Without answering, she circled the table and trailed a finger across the massive breadth of his powerful shoulders. They began rising and falling, seeming to expand with each movement. It reminded her of his size, as if additional thoughts were necessary. His obvious strength was the turn-on because it was kept so tightly leashed. She wanted to snap that leash.

Whether or not he’d done it consciously, Beck had leaned back into her touch, leaving a gap of room between his body and the table. Kenna stepped into that space now, between his parted legs, and ran her hands up his muscled chest. Beck’s head fell back on a rough exhale. “Kenna, I’ve got a strong will, but you’re testing the hell out of it.” The column of his throat worked. “This isn’t right. Not here.”