Three Little Words (11 page)

“No, but you’ll do great.”

He was trying. She would give him credit. “Thanks. Sorry to dump this on you. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. Eventually she would be. Maybe she hadn’t been spending enough time on her business plan. She would call Sonia next week and touch base with her. They should talk more, she decided. Make sure everything was in order.

“I need to distract myself,” she said. “Maybe you’re right about the sugar thing. We could get an elephant ear and share it.”

“Or we could do this.”

Without warning, he dropped her hands, which was sad, because she was liking the feel of his fingers against hers. Only instead of stepping away, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her against him.

She went because, well, she wasn’t sure why. But when she got there, she found it was really nice to be pressed up against Ford. Before she could lean in against all those muscles, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

The touch was unexpected. Hot and tender at the same time. Almost teasing as if this were a game. If so, she wanted to play, she thought as her arms settled on his shoulders and her fingers found their way to the back of his neck.

Without meaning to, without thinking, she tilted her head. His mouth settled more firmly on hers. The next logical step was for her to part her lips, so she did. He moved his tongue against her lower lip before slipping it into her mouth, where it tangled with hers.

Several things happened at once. The sensible part of her brain pointed out that not only were they in the middle of town, standing on a street during a festival, but he was only doing this because he was trying to fake out his mother.

The rest of her quickly smothered the information with a flurry of impressions. The coolness of his hair against her fingers. The way her breasts flattened against his chest. The pressure of his palms rubbing against the small of her back.

A liquid sensation seemed to flow through her, stealing her strength and leaving her pliable and willing. Wanting stirred—nearly unrecognizable in its unfamiliarity. But the need to get closer, to climb into him and be completely a part of whatever it was they were doing, was inescapable.

He kissed her deeply, stirring her with every stroke. She answered in kind, wanting to arouse him as much as he aroused her. She felt heat on her cheeks, tightness in her nipples and stirring between her thighs. For the first time in her life, she was faced with burning sexual need. It both frightened and empowered her.

She felt less controlled and more driven by need. She had always regretted when the foreplay came to an end and things got serious, but not today. Today she wanted Ford’s hands on her body. Every part of her body. She wanted him touching and rubbing and nipping until she... Okay, that part was less clear, but one thing was certain. The kissing wasn’t getting it done.

This was what her friends were talking about, she thought as she hung on to him. This desire to be naked and touch and taste. She wanted to explore all of Ford, to discover where hard planes led and caress the unexpected tender valleys. She wanted to breathe in the scent of him, to have him hold her and fill her over and over again as he—

He released her.

She surfaced, blinking, out of breath and not sure what she’d been thinking. She was the one who didn’t find sex satisfying. Ever. Why on earth would she be fantasizing about doing it with Ford?

“Okay, then,” he said, his voice slightly strangled. “I thought that would be a little more PG-rated.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Next time, give a guy some warning.”

She stared at him. “Warning?”

She started to move away and he grabbed her. “Not so fast. I need a minute.”

She didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then her gaze dropped to his jeans and she saw a massive erection straining against his fly.

Consuelo had warned her that Ford liked all women and he obviously knew how to kiss. So the fact that he was aroused wasn’t something she should take personally. Still, it was nice to know he’d been caught off guard, too.

“I know that smile,” he grumbled.

“What?”

“You’re feeling smug.”

She grinned. “I am,” she admitted. “More than a little. We should get you something cold to drink.”

“Just give me a second. I’m thinking about kittens. Kittens aren’t sexy.”

She rested her palm on his stomach. “Anything I can do to help?”

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hand away. “Don’t do that. Not doing that would help.”

She giggled, inspired by her newfound power. He sighed heavily, then put his arm around her.

“Why did I think you’d make this easy?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Because it’s so much more fun to make it hard.”

* * *

D
ESPITE
THE
FACT
that it was late afternoon, the festival was going strong. Consuelo hadn’t planned to come to it at all, but somehow she’d been unable to walk away from the music and crowds. She wandered over to a booth where a pretty young woman was selling handmade jewelry.

The stones were mostly uncut, and thin strands of gold and silver had been wrapped around them to hold them in place. Tiny crystals swung from shepherds’ hooks and dangled from delicate chains.

Despite the fact that she was on the short side and small boned, Consuelo didn’t think of herself as petite. Nothing in this booth would suit her, she thought glumly. It was all too ethereal. She was sturdy, in her soul if not in her appearance. Pragmatic, with a foolish longing for whimsy.

She touched a bracelet, and as her fingers moved on the cool metal, she realized there were two men following her.

She’d seen them several booths back, when she’d stopped to look at a display of birdhouses. Mid-twenties, out of shape, a little drunk. One wore a baseball cap and the other had on a T-shirt featuring a gun logo. Good ol’ boys, she thought.

They’d noticed her then. She’d slipped away but they’d caught up with her and now they were getting closer. She was going to have to deal with them directly.

The thought of it made her tired. She wasn’t sure if she was going to eviscerate them physically or verbally. This was a family-friendly event and there were pros and cons to both plans of action.

She turned, prepared to take them on. The guy in the baseball cap walked directly toward her.

“Hey, pretty lady.” His smile was more a leer, with a hint of threat at the edges. “My friend and I thought we’d go somewhere together and get to know each other better.”

A man stepped between her and the guy in the cap.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving next to her. “You need to leave the lady alone.”

Consuelo stared up at Kent Hendrix. Was he seriously trying to protect her? She was so startled by the thought she just stood there stupidly.

T-shirt Guy grinned at Kent. “Is that so? You gonna make us?”

“If necessary,” Kent said firmly. He was close but not touching her. Larger than the other two. His voice was quiet, yet there was an air of confidence about him that impressed her.

The friends looked at each other. Then, like the bullies they were, they immediately backed off when confronted. Baseball Cap Guy dipped his head.

“No offense meant, ma’am.”

“It would probably be best if you two left the festival,” Kent told them.

The men turned and started walking.

Consuelo put her hands on her hips. “What was that?”

“I noticed them following you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Okay? Okay?
Her?
“There isn’t a man in a fifty-mile radius I couldn’t destroy in hand-to-hand combat, and that includes your navy SEAL brother.”

Kent nodded slowly. “I have no doubt.”

“Then why would you try to help?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She started to speak, then stopped. Was he from this planet? This century? She should be annoyed as hell, yet she felt oddly touched by his idiotic gesture.

He could have been hurt, she thought. There were two of them.

He lightly touched her arm. “I know you could have taken them. I just didn’t think you should have to deal with them on your own.”

She’d always been on her own. Even as a kid. Her brothers had been involved in their gang, and her mother had worked desperately long hours to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. For Consuelo, friends had come from between the pages of a book.

Once she’d joined the army, she’d been part of a team. Until she’d gone into covert ops. Her assignments put her in harm’s way by herself. There was always extraction but rarely backup. After a while she’d gotten used to looking out for herself and not expecting much of anyone else.

“Thank you,” she managed at last.

“You’re welcome. I keep running into you.”

She glanced at his hands. They were smooth, with neatly trimmed nails. No calluses, no scars. He didn’t carry a gun or even a knife. She doubted he’d ever killed anyone. No doubt he talked to his mother regularly, cared about his family, paid his taxes and drove less than five miles an hour over the speed limit.

“Want to get an ice cream?” he asked. “It’s homemade. This time of year, they have all the fruit flavors. Pear ice cream doesn’t sound all that exciting, but trust me, it’s delicious.”

She faced him, torn between what she wanted and what she knew was right.

“No one has ever asked me to get ice cream before.”

She made the statement defiantly, then waited for him to call her on it. Because she was going to tell him the truth. That men asked her for sex. Sometimes they used dinner as a pretense. Or offered money or jewelry to pay for it. She’d slept with men for her country, but rarely because she wanted to. She’d killed and walked away without looking back. She’d taken down enemy combatants, because there were a thousand places a woman could go that a soldier couldn’t.

“Then you’re overdue.”

“What?”

“For ice cream.”

He held out his hand. Just like that, as if he expected her to go with him. She should tell him to get lost, she thought. Only she couldn’t. Instead she placed her hand against his and prepared to leap into an unknown world.

CHAPTER SEVEN

K
ENT
LED
THE
WAY
to the food court. He couldn’t believe she’d said yes to his invitation. Not just because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he was just some guy, but because she seemed skittish—almost like a wild animal. She was an intriguing combination of ultracapable and vulnerable.

When he’d seen those two guys, he’d known they were watching a woman, but hadn’t known who. Stepping in had been his only option. When he’d realized they were following Consuelo, he’d been just as determined to protect her. Although he knew she was tough and could no doubt figure out thirty-six ways to kill them, he’d wanted to take care of her.

Now, with her small hand in his, he was both proud and nervous. He wanted everyone to notice who was with him, and at the same time, he was terrified of messing up.

She barely came to his shoulder. Her long hair tumbled down her back and shoulders in sexy curls that caught the late-afternoon sun. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, at her dark eyes, the sweet shape of her mouth. She was a fantasy come to life and he had no idea what she was doing with him.

“Where’s Reese?” she asked.

“With Carter and the new puppy. Gideon’s hoping they’ll tire each other out.”

She laughed. “I’ll bet. Felicia’s the true anchor in that family, and I’m guessing when she’s away, both her men feel adrift.”

“He’s just getting used to having a son. That has to be tough. I got to grow into taking care of Reese.”

He drew her to a stop and pointed to the rows of booths. “The choice is yours. What’s your pleasure? Tacos? Pulled pork? Ribs? Or homemade ice cream?”

She thought for a second. “I am kind of hungry. Maybe a couple of tacos and then ice cream?”

“Done.”

He went to get the tacos and drinks while she headed toward the ice-cream stand. When he tried to give her money for the food, she raised her eyebrows.

“Seriously? I can afford it. Two scoops, even.”

“I’m not saying you can’t.”

Her mouth twisted. “I know. You’re being a nice guy.”

Words designed to make him wince. Nice. He didn’t want to be nice. He wanted her to think of him as intriguing, sexy and...

Kent ordered the tacos and drinks. Who was he kidding? Him sexy? Not likely. She was every man’s fantasy. He knew the drill. Women who looked like her liked rich guys or dangerous guys or men who flew jets. They didn’t sit around dreaming about falling in love with a high school math teacher.

They met back at a table in the shade. There was a band playing just far enough away that the music was pleasant background accompaniment and they could still talk.

“Carnitas and chicken,” he said, pointing to the two plates of food. Both types of tacos had come with rice and beans, along with a handful of chips. “Which would you like?”

“Both,” she said easily, switching one of the tacos with the other. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

She wore jeans and a CDS T-shirt. No jewelry, not even a watch. She didn’t carry a handbag like other women. Her jeans were tight enough that he knew her cell phone was in her front left pocket and she had the best ass he’d ever seen, including the Victoria’s Secret special on TV and the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit edition.

She picked up a taco and took a bite, then put it back down and chewed. He passed out napkins and told himself to act normal.

“You want to tell me why you’re staring at me?” she asked, her voice conversational.

So much for being subtle, he thought grimly. “Uh, sure. You’re beautiful.”

The words were out before he could stop them and he braced himself for laughter, a scathing rebuke or her simply walking away.

Consuelo put down the taco and gazed at him. “That’s it?” she asked. “You can’t do better than that?”

“It’s the truth.” He smiled. “You’re out of my league and I know it, but I’m not going to waste the opportunity.”

She surprised him by ducking her head. “I’m not out of your league.”

“You’re used to guys like my brother. Soldiers. Operatives.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not my type.”

“What
is
your type?” If only she would say “Single fathers in their mid-thirties with unremarkable jobs.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a type,” she told him. “Am I anything like your ex?”

“No. Nothing. She was tall and blonde. Cool, if you know what I mean.”
Icy
was a better word, but he rarely spoke ill of Lorraine. There were a lot of reasons. Some of them were about how he’d been raised and some were about pride. There was also that she would always be Reese’s mom.

“Where’d you meet?”

“College. I was a math major. She was studying business. We ended up in the same off-campus apartment building our senior year. Her roommate liked to party. One night, just before midterms, she knocked on my door and asked if she could please study in a closet. I offered her the kitchen table.”

“Of course you did.” She sighed. “Because it was polite.”

“I wasn’t going to make her study in a closet.” He wouldn’t do that to anyone. “We started hanging out. One thing led to another.” He paused, not sure how much to tell.

“And?” she prompted.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted. “We found out right after graduation. I loved her, so proposing was easy. We got married and Reese came along.” He picked up his taco, then put it down. “I don’t know how she felt about me or being pregnant. I don’t think she was happy. Maybe she went along because it was easier than not.”

“Did you know she was going to leave?”

“I wasn’t surprised. I knew she wasn’t happy for a while, but I figured that was the stress of work and life and having a kid. We went through a couple of rough patches, but I thought we’d work them out. Then she was gone.”

He’d been in shock. He’d come home one day and there had been only a note. For a long time he’d thought she would come back, but she never did. Not even for her son.

That was the part he couldn’t understand—her total rejection of her child. What kind of person did that? At first she’d seen him occasionally, but even that had ended.

“You’re not going to call her names, are you?” Consuelo asked.

“No. I don’t blame her for leaving me, but she shouldn’t have left Reese, too. It’s been hard on him.”

“He’s a good kid,” she told him. “You did well.”

“Thanks. A couple of years ago, I realized he needed more family around. I guess I did, too. So we moved back here. It was the right decision.”

She watched him intently. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but the fact that she was asking questions seemed like a good sign.

“I’m glad we ran into each other,” he said. “There’s a concert later. Want to go with me?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” she said quietly.

Nothing about her expression changed, so at first he didn’t get what she was telling him. Then she rose, collected her plate, drink and plastic fork and threw them in the trash.

“Bye, Kent,” she said, then turned and walked away.

* * *

T
UESDAY
MORNING
F
ORD
wandered over to Isabel’s house. He could have gone to the office, but there wasn’t much point. The contracts had been signed with the new companies, and until it was time to put the actual courses together, he was at loose ends. He needed coffee. Not that he didn’t have some at his place, but he was pretty sure Isabel’s was better.

He went up to the back door and knocked loudly. It swung open. Unlocked, of course. This damn town, he thought as he strolled in. Sure enough, a fresh pot of coffee sat in a carafe. He took two mugs from the cupboard and poured. He didn’t think he’d ever learned how Isabel took hers, so he left it black. He could add whatever she wanted later.

He carried both mugs down the hall, pausing to take a sip of his. He passed the master, a guest room, a study. At the end were two open doors. One led to a bedroom with an unmade full-sized bed. The walls were pink. There were shelves filled with books, pictures in frames and trophies. A couple of tattered stuffed animals sat on a wide window seat. The furniture was white, as was the desk with a sleek laptop on it. Several pairs of shoes had been kicked to the side of the room.

The space was an intriguing combination of Isabel as a teenager and her today. The old and the new.

On the opposite side of the hall was the half-open door to a bathroom. Isabel stood in front of a mirror. She wore a short blue robe. Her hair was up in electric curlers and she was carefully applying mascara.

He leaned against the wall to watch.

Most guys weren’t that interested in the process—they wanted the result. But he’d always enjoyed watching a woman get ready. Maybe he was trying to see where the magic went. All those potions in pots and jars, he thought with a smile.

Isabel put down the mascara, glanced into the mirror, saw him, then jumped and screamed.

She pulled the door all the way open. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

“Your back door was unlocked. How do you like your coffee?” He handed her a mug.

“Black. Thanks.” She took the coffee and then glanced from it to him and back. “You just walked in here?”

“Sure. Like I said, the door was open.”

“I forgot to lock it. I wasn’t inviting you in.”

He grinned. “Yet here I am, all the same.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re bored, aren’t you? That’s what this is about.”

“I’ll admit to having a slow day.”

“So typical. My day isn’t slow. I’m expecting several gowns to arrive. Do you know what that means?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Unpacking and then hours of ironing. Want to learn the delicate art of ironing a wedding gown?”

“Not really. But you could thank me for the coffee.”

“It’s my coffee.”

“I carried it.”

She shook her head and turned back to the mirror. “Someone needs to beat the crap out of you.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a girl turned on by violence.”

“I’m not...” She drew in a breath. “Never mind,” she muttered from between clenched teeth.

She pulled out the curlers, sliding the round part back into place on rods and dropping the pins into a plastic bowl. Her blond hair fell to just below her shoulders in loose, sexy curls. The air was scented with some kind of floral body wash and maybe lotion.

He’d spent plenty of time on navy ships and could complete his shower in less than a hundred and twenty seconds. Including shaving and dressing, from the time he walked into the bathroom until he walked out, fully clothed, it was less than five minutes.

Civilian women weren’t like that.

He leaned against the door frame, watching as Isabel bent over at the waist and shook her head, then finger-combed her curls. His gaze strayed to her butt, which pulled at the shiny fabric of her robe.

She was tall and curvy. He liked how she felt when he held her, liked the softness, the warmth. The way she’d kissed him? He was still in recovery. He’d expected to enjoy himself. He hadn’t thought she would take him from zero to sixty in a heartbeat.

If they hadn’t been out in public, he would have been hard-pressed not to try to convince her they had to make love that very second. Maybe she wasn’t as off-limits as he’d first thought, he told himself. Little Isabel was all grown-up and he had to say he was a fan of how she’d turned out.

* * *

I
SABEL
STRAIGHTENED
and discovered that, yes, Ford was still there. Watching her with that almost smile of his. The one designed to drive her crazy.

“Step back unless you want to risk being turned into a woman,” she said, picking up a spray bottle.

He did as she suggested, retreating down the hall. “I’m going to see what you have for breakfast,” he yelled back.

“You do that.”

She finished with her hair, then walked quickly into her bedroom. After closing and
locking
the door, she finished dressing. She tucked her blouse into her skirt, all the while telling herself she should be annoyed that Ford had simply walked into her house. Yet she couldn’t seem to summon the energy. He was one of those guys women seemed to like, and she wasn’t the least bit immune.

Still barefoot, she went down the hall and into the kitchen. Ford sat at one of the stools at the bar. There was a box of cereal on the counter.

“You don’t have eggs,” he told her. “Or bacon. What’s with that?”

“I don’t eat eggs or bacon in the morning.”

His expression turned suspicious. “You’re not one of those eggs-for-lunch people, are you? Because that’s wrong.”