Rival Forces (15 page)

She glanced back down at her phone. No reply.

She caught a breath and held it, trying to steady her suddenly galloping heart. She was caught, between new experiences and old. Where did her loyalties lie? Could one night negate a year? No, that was crazy. She'd just made some terrible decisions. That, to be honest, she couldn't find it in her to regret.

But now there was David. Still in her life, if uncertainly.

It had been her idea that she and Dr. David Gunnar purchase phones with numbers only they knew so that their relationship could have the privacy they both craved. Neither wanted their very public lives to spill over into this most personal connection. They even went so far as to trade semi-coded texts about where to meet, like children with a secret. David had a thing for pop standards from the '40s and '50s, music popular long before either of them were born. At various times over the past year she had received messages that read:

That's Amore. Free to share a pensione in old Napoli?

April in Paris. I forget the lyrics. Bring them to the Madison Hotel.

Georgia on My Mind. Outer Banks paying good dividends.

This one was different. And caller ID was blocked.

David had never done that before. Yet the text could only be from him. Only he had this number. Perhaps he'd lost his original phone, or it had stopped working and he couldn't replace it until now.

This message meant that he was okay. And that he wanted to see her.

Still, her sense of relief came mixed with a splash of anxiety as she reread his text.
Do nothing until you hear from me?
What did it mean?

“Coffee's on.” Kye was back. His lids slid low over his gaze, taking in her bare legs. His smile held the warmth of a Pacific sun. “Should be ready by the time we've showered.”

Yard couldn't miss the invitation in his gaze. It gave her a hot flush. “I don't have time. You go ahead.”

She saw the humor drain from his expression at her tone. “Something's going on, okay?” She held up her phone as if that would make her point for her.

“It's not serious, I hope?”

“I don't know yet.” But she did. It was very serious. Only she wasn't certain what to do next. “Can you check the heater? It really did go out during the night.”

“Is it cold? I hadn't noticed.”

She believed him. His erection was in full bloom again, fired by the same urges that made his gaze burn as it met hers. “I'll check it out.” He turned, taking his fine ass and swaggering cock with him.

As soon as he was gone, Yardley started the video again. This time the second line of the song caught her attention.
Pay no attention to what's said.
Was David telling her to discount whatever well-meaning friends or family might have said about his disappearance? They didn't know anything about each other's family and friends. Would he think she would tell anyone about them? Had he told someone? She didn't think so. Or did he mean the FBI and the DEA?

They'd told her he had applied for a permanent work visa to some unnamed country overseas. He might be texting her from Outer Mongolia, for instance. But she didn't think so. She had the feeling he hadn't left the good ol' U.S.A. Otherwise, why would the FBI be involved?

It didn't add up or make sense. She didn't have any information to go by. Nothing, except the intuition that had her left leg doing the River Dance all by itself.

David was in trouble. Probably in hiding. Unwilling or perhaps fearful of drawing her into whatever trouble he was in.

She shut off the song and thought about the kind of trouble that brought the feds to one's door. It wouldn't be some local or isolated problem. This was something serious, and it remained to be seen whether David was on the right or wrong side of it.

She met her reflection in the mirror and was startled by it. Her lip was still swollen. A bruise fattened one cheek. The opposite eye was now ringed red and deep purple. The patch above it itched. But the reason for her appearance, Stokes's attack, had been momentarily forgotten in the light of the last few hours. Too much had happened.

Kye had happened.

She glanced guiltily toward her bedroom doorway. She could hear him moving around upstairs. He was whistling. He was happy.

She had been happy, too. For six short hours her world had righted itself.

Do nothing until you hear from me.

There was nothing she could do. She had no way of knowing where David was. But he was still in her life. The text confirmed it. And he wanted her to wait for him. There was a promise in those song lyrics.

There was nothing more she could do but wait.

No, that wasn't right. What she must do was get rid of Kye.

Her stomach cramped with feelings of guilt. If she'd just stayed in her own bed. If she'd just not felt all the feelings that had come stealing in on her last night. If Kye hadn't been so kind. So able to deal with her craziness. If he hadn't been so
Kye.

That was the thing. From the very first time they met, he'd had a sixth sense about how to talk to her. She might be the K-9 guru, but Kye understood her.

But he wouldn't understand David. And David wouldn't understand Kye.

She couldn't blame either man for that. She didn't have an explanation for what had happened during the night and again just now in her bathroom. It made no sense, even to herself. That didn't mean it wasn't real, all the feelings swirling through her, whispering wicked secrets about what else she and Kye might do together and to each other. But she knew better than to listen.

Feelings were just that, feelings. You didn't have to give them the space to rule your thoughts. She certainly wasn't going to act on them, again. She was going to use her brain and think her way out of this emotionally hot-blooded female mess she became when Kye touched her.

She did have some hard reality to help her deal.

Number one. No more touching. Not her touching Kye. And mercy no, not Kye touching her. Those big talented hands of his were definitely mind destroyers.

Number two. She'd made up her mind before Kye arrived that David was the man for her. Nothing had changed. Good in bed was not a commitment.

Number three. All those feelings she was feeling were because Kye had come to her at a low moment, when she'd just given up hope on David and was in need of comfort. Her pride was cut up. She'd put herself out there and thought she'd been dumped. She flinched. She hadn't exactly used Kye. She disliked people who used others to make themselves feel better. But she hadn't had the strength to hold them apart. Her bad.

She'd let old feelings, memories, and sentiment cloud her vision. She never did that. She was always reliable. Steady. Ready to make the hard decisions. The path was always clear for her. Choices clearly defined and labeled. She'd made her choice. David, not Kye.

So why was she hoping there was another choice, like door number three?

Forsaking all others.

She hadn't made that commitment yet. But just a week ago she had been prepared to do so, if David contacted her. She'd let Law and Georgie, and especially Kye, sway her away from her gut feelings.

But now she knew David still cared. She'd heard from him again. Why didn't that knowledge feel like a victory, a triumph, or even simple relief?

Lily came in, carrying something white. She chewed a few times and then deposited the soggy cloth at Yard's feet. It was Yardley's PJ bottoms.

She picked up the destroyed garment. “Really? That's your judgment of me?”

Lily turned and walked out.

“I'm not trying to take him from you.” Yardley rolled her eyes but then caught back a sob. Now even dogs were turning against her.

She needed a shower. A long hot shower followed by a cold one and then some other excuses to keep her from facing Kye. She'd give her hair a deep moisturizing treatment, pluck her brows, and maybe even paint her toenails. Anything that would give her time to regain her balance before she talked with Kye.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

At least he was dressed. She doubted she could keep it together if Kye had still been nude.

He was sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a mini laptop balanced on one knee. She wondered if he'd been in touch with Law but decided not to ask. If he had, there was nothing she could do about it now.

He had showered and wore jeans and a black hoodie with the Hawaiian Warriors' crest stenciled on it. His dark hair was still spiky with dampness. His bronze cheeks had been shaved, glowing as smooth as his butt—no, not the image she needed in her head at the moment. Lily lay at his feet. She gave Yardley a questioning glance but didn't raise her head. For some reason the toller didn't like her.

Kye looked up. “Hi.” His gaze took in her black leggings and hoodie. “I've already walked the dogs. Fed them, too. I think Oleg and I have reached a truce.”

“Thanks.” Yardley folded her arms across her chest as she same through the doorway. She'd taken a long shower during which she'd decided how to handle the situation. All she needed to do was put it into action.

“I forgot to say thank you. Last night.” She saw his eyes darken. “I mean, you letting me blow off steam. I was pretty much a basket case before the boxing session.”

“No worries.” He grinned fully and her toes curled. “What about earlier this morning? Guess I should be thanking you.”

She shrugged a shoulder as she moved toward the coffeepot. “Not necessary.”

She saw his smile slip a notch just before she turned away to reach for a cup. He'd read her state of mind, just like that. And he wasn't happy about it. She really wished he was a bit less attuned to her. It would make this easier.

When she had poured a cup and added milk she turned back to face what had become a strained silence.

He was standing now, the long solid strength of the man unfolded for her observation. He didn't need a scowl to add force of personality. The reality of him, present, was enough to set her pulse thumping.

She could see him thinking about what to say next before he spoke. “Yard, don't do this. I know what happened this morning. It's scary. But let's not run away from it. Maybe there's something here we missed the first time.”

She shook her head and took a gulp of java before replying. “Don't make this more than it is.” She lifted her gaze to his because it was impossible not to look at him. “It's a good time.”

“That's all?” His expression warned her but still the words stung. “The great Yardley I-must-be-in-charge-at-all-times Summers got laid so all's right with the world?”

She looked away from his expression. She'd forgotten that because he played nice most of the time, he had a hard-ass streak. But it hurt to have him wield it against her now.

“What did you expect, flowers and chocolate? We got off together. It was good. Okay, great. But I don't need or want anything from you.”

“That's not what you said four hours ago.”

He was closer now, and moving closer than she was comfortable with. He stopped before her and lifted a hand slowly to shift a swatch of her damp hair back from her shoulder. His hand settled in a light caress on her shoulder.
Uh-oh.
She could handle hard-ass. Sexy seductive Kye was much harder to defend against.

He smiled again, and this time it had Yardley hearing the familiar intro to “Aloha ‘Oe” played on a lap steel guitar. “Last night you said you wanted everything.”

She certainly had. Now she'd had very physical proof of his everything, twice, and it still didn't feel like enough. His fingers went wandering up the side of her neck in little light strokes, and she felt sparks of a desire that weren't dwindling embers. They were ignition sparks.

She stepped back from that touch, feeling a little desperate. But he mustn't know that. She had to be cool, keep-it-together tough. “I meant in bed.”

She took another sideways step and lifted her coffee cup, speaking to him over the rim. “Let me spell it out for you. I'm not interested in anything long-term. You're safe. You can go home to whatever and whoever's waiting for you.”

She saw his expression go funny and wondered, just for a second, what that was about.

His jaw hardened. “You want to hear about my love life?”

“No.” She didn't. She really,
really
didn't.

“Because I'm happy to share.”

“I said no.”

“You'll enjoy it.” He folded heavy forearms across his chest. “She made a complete fucking idiot out of me.”

Yardley slanted him a glance behind her cup. “Then maybe I'm a teeny bit interested.”

“Let's start with the key part. I was married. We divorced four years ago.”

She tried to harden her heart against the sadness edging his tone. “She threw you out?”

“I walked. She was preggers when I got back from my last tour of duty. It wasn't mine. Heard enough?”

Not nearly. How awful. Damn. “Go on.”

He settled hips against the kitchen counter and crossed his legs. She didn't glance at his package deliberately. It was an ocular accident.

“She was a local girl named Healani. We married between my tours of duty. It wasn't fireworks at night or anything. We'd known each other our entire lives. After a while you stop expecting … crazy kinds of love.” He didn't look away. He was being more honest than he needed to be.

“I was happy. And then the big news came via Skype on my last tour. She even had this blurry photo of a blob as proof.” His gaze shifted away from her. “I'd always thought I'd be thrilled to hear the words,
You're going to be a dad.
Nothing. I felt zero.” He shook his head, as if still unable to believe it.