Wild on You (13 page)

“Through the banging part, you mean.”

He obviously didn’t pick up her droll tone, because he grinned. “Yeah, right up until the awkward morning-after ‘Where is this going?’ conversation.”

“You’re such a player.”

He shrugged, looking nonplussed. “It was the only option on the table until recently.”

“And now?” Damn, those words again.

He let his gaze settle on her for a moment. “Now I have to see if this job pans out, and rethink my future.”

Did that mean he might be open for a relationship? That if the right woman came along, he would commit for the first time in his life?

You are so not that woman, Addie, so pull your gaze off him and walk to the door
.

A short while later, he escorted her into the historic mansion where the dinner was being held, his fingertips on her back. Her bare back, since the dress dipped down to her waist. She liked them there, maybe a little too much.

“We don’t have to perpetuate the boyfriend thing just yet,” she whispered as she took in the grand room, still being set up.

“This isn’t my boyfriend persona,” he said softly, leaning close as they walked. “This is my gentleman persona. The boyfriend would be doing this.” He drew his fingertips all the way to the base of her spine. “And he’d be thinking of where to duck behind these drapes to make you pant and moan.”

Warmth flushed her cheeks; her imagination was kicking in. “I’m glad you made that distinction. I guess I’m not familiar with dating gestures.”

He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear. “I can educate you.”

His warm breath washing down her neck, along with those words, made another part of her body thrum. Or, more precisely, throb.

“Zucchini,” she said, and backed away.

“Hello, honey.” Her father’s voice made her turn around. He gave her one of his stiff hugs, then shook Risk’s hand. “You two make a handsome couple.”

Handsome? Really?
It always seemed an odd compliment more suited to describe, perhaps, a male pairing. But she latched on to the word
couple
. And the smile on her father’s face.

Risk trailed his finger down her back, giving her a subtle wink. “Your daughter looks spectacular, doesn’t she?”

She shivered at both his touch and the compliment.

Her father smiled. “She does indeed.” He turned to Risk. “Your associates are here. They’re checking out the perimeter.” He gestured toward the roomful of square tables, all set up for an elegant meal. “As you requested, you’ll be seated with your back against the wall and a view of the entrance.” He pointed at a table off to the side, next to a draped wall.

“Mom had the idea to arrange it like this,” Addie told Risk. “Each table accommodates four couples, allowing them a more intimate forum to get to know each other.”

“Intimate,” Risk repeated, his gaze on the table. He’d said the word in a very neutral way, but something in her body responded to it. “A couple on each side. Good face-to-face. No trying to converse with someone a distance down a long table.” He scanned the room with his soldier’s face, no doubt looking for weak areas or places where the enemy could hide. Or infiltrate.

She wasn’t sure which she liked better, Risk with his five o’clock shadow or Risk with his clean shave. It was interesting to imagine the shadow version in the tux. Or out of it.

Stop that!

“Risk.” They all turned to find a man in a tux approaching. He was about Risk’s
age, with light green eyes and thick eyelashes no man should possess. He did a hand-slap-hug thing with Risk. “Good to see you.” Then he turned his attention to Addie and held out his hand. “Hello, darlin’, I’m Saxby Cole, this knucklehead’s friend and associate.” He nodded toward Risk. “I’m sure he’s told you all about me.” His voice dripped with Southern charm, so even
knucklehead
didn’t sound like an insult.

“Nice to meet you; I’m Addie. And no, he didn’t mention you.”

Saxby gave Risk a sly smile. “ ’Course he didn’t. Because he knew once I laid eyes on your beauty, I’d want to kick him off the job and take his place.” He took her outstretched hand and kissed the back of it. Boy, was this one a player. Even though he was clearly teasing, she knew there was some truth to his words.

“Knock it off,” Risk said.

Her father chuckled. “My daughter doesn’t drive on your road.” He looked at Addie. “Is that how you’d say it? Or climb your kind of tree? I rather like putting it that way.” When he saw Saxby’s puzzled expression, he put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close. “She’s gay.”

Oh, sure,
now
he was accepting her sexual preference. “Daddy, I’m not gay.”

Her father swung an incredulous look at her. “What?”

“I like men. I’m completely hetero.”

Now he gave Risk an admiring smile. “You’re good, son. Real good.”

Risk’s shoulders puffed up. “Thank you, sir. I pride myself on—”

She elbowed him, then turned to her father. “I’ve never been gay. I told you that so you’d stop setting me up on all of those boring dates. I’m sorry.”

He merely stared at her for a moment. It was the first time she’d seen her father at a loss for words. Suddenly, she realized that Saxby was still holding her hand. He wore one of those
Well, now, this is interesting
smiles, but he had the grace to plant one more kiss on her hand and release her. “A pleasure to meet you, Addie. Risk, Knox, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Knox?” she asked.

“That would be me.”

She spun at the voice right behind her. “I didn’t even hear you come up behind me!”

Risk patted Knox’s shoulder. “That’s one of our skills—sneakiness. Knox, this is Addie.”

Knox had choppy light brown hair and soulful brown eyes that also held the shadow of world-weariness without the playful aspect Risk’s held. He bowed slightly as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Goodness, she wondered if the prerequisites of being a SEAL included gorgeousness and charm. Knox, though, looked much more serious than his comrades.

Risk leaned close. “Stay near your father until I get back.”

The three men drifted off, pointing out exits and the room layout.

She turned to her father, and oh, yeah, he was giving her
the
look. Disappointment. Disbelief. Anger. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I was at the end of my rope with your sneaky setups, and it just popped out of my mouth. When you just now accepted me as gay, it pushed out the truth the same way. I don’t like lying. I only want you to be all right with who I am: a vegetarian, an animal activist, and someone who’s a little impulsive.”

“A little! Stealing animals, sneaking onto …” He curtailed his diatribe and let out a soft sigh instead. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve been trying to cram you into a life that’s not you. I’ll try, Adeline.”

“Can you start by calling me Addie?” She wrinkled her nose. “I am
so
not an Adeline.”

He tilted his head. “I suppose you’re not. Never have been.”

“Excuse me, sir,” one of the coordinators said, and asked several setup questions.

As always, Risk kept watching her. It made her hyperaware of everything she did.
It’s just his job. Remember that
.

Though it wasn’t her job to watch him, she did. She could tell the guys had the kind of camaraderie built from spending a lot of time together in dangerous situations. They easily went from discussing line of fire to bursting out in laughter.

A short while later, people started filtering in. Risk immediately came to her side as his associates strode off to their positions. “Ready to rumble?” he asked.

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

He escorted her to the entrance. She played her mother’s role, greeting guests as they arrived in a receiving line. Only a couple mentioned the brouhaha of Carrigan’s accusations. She would need to address it to the group as a whole when the time came. Many wanted to know who the gorgeous guy standing next to her was. Most of these people had known her since she was a teenager or longer. She’d never brought a date to an event.

When she said “This is my boyfriend, Risk” the first time,
boyfriend
felt foreign on her tongue. It must have sounded odd to him, too, because he glanced her way.

“How sweet,” said the lady who ran the youth home, giving him a grandmotherly smile. “You must be very special.”

“Oh, he is,” Addie said, wrapping her fingers around his big upper arm. “He definitely is.” Doing that felt oddly natural, as did leaning in to him.

Later, benefactors and charity representatives mingled near the open bar. Risk left her side only to get her a glass of white wine. She rarely drank alcohol, but the Riesling went down smooth and sweet. It stole over her, relaxing the tension at fielding questions about her organization, Carrigan, and Risk.

“How’d you two meet?” one lady asked.

Addie hadn’t thought about that question, and her wine-softened brain scrambled for an answer. Which Risk provided, and he was smoother than the wine. “I accidentally stumbled across her Animal Huggers Facebook page. I like animals, but hey, I gotta be honest. When I saw pictures of a gorgeous woman in a bikini washing cars for a fund-raiser, and then I watched her impassioned videos …” He shook his head, a grin on his face. “You know it wasn’t the animals that got me to that first protest.”

The woman’s husband barked in laugher and slapped him on the back. “Smart move, my boy. I own this building, and when Gilda came in to ask about renting it for a cancer survivors’ costume ball, I let her use it for free. On the stipulation that she be my
contact throughout the planning.”

Addie watched the couple, who’d been married for three years. Gilda leaned toward her husband, flashing him smiles as he talked. She often touched him, just a graze of her fingers on his arm or shoulder.

As Addie thought to mirror her actions, she realized she was already doing it. Risk drew his hand from her back up to her neck, where his fingers gently massaged the tense muscles, and she wondered if he was cognizant of the motion.

Chimes sounded, signaling that dinner was about to be served. Risk made eye contact with Saxby, who had remained at the perimeter of the room and still managed to look like he belonged there. Knox was outside, pretending to be a guest sneaking a smoke.

Risk’s hand was splayed across her lower back as he escorted her to their table. She knew the three couples at their table only informally. They all introduced themselves once they were seated.

At the podium, her father welcomed everyone to the gathering and invited all to enjoy the meal. An orchestra started playing soft, elegant music from the stage.

Risk picked up the placard in front of her table setting, bearing a green
V
. “More lettuce?”

“Fish,” she said. “Delicious, healthy fish.”

Which launched a discussion with the lady to her right about restricted diets, since her placard represented a gluten-free meal. Risk made conversation with the man to his left about the military as salads were served and then cleared away. Addie tried to tune in to Risk’s conversation, but the woman kept talking about food intolerances versus allergies. Addie heard bits and pieces, gun talk, something about getting shot. They were trading shrapnel stories, for God’s sake.

“It was hard for me to sit down for a few days, that’s for sure,” Risk was saying.

She had her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. “You were shot in the …” She smiled and took a sip.

“Yes, I was.” Risk’s eyes said,
Wanna see the scar?
But he merely gave her a
long-suffering sigh. “The worst part was getting teased by the guys.”

Their meals were served next. Hers, a beautiful plate of salmon and vegetables. Risk’s, a piece of cow flesh. He cut in to it and let out an “Ahhh, cooked to perfection.”

She couldn’t help but glance over. It was red in the center, bloody juice pooling on the plate. The aroma hinted at spices and pepper, with a touch of chargrill. He stabbed one piece and shoved it into his mouth. “Mm, mm, mm. Tender. Juicy,” he said around his food. “How’s your fish?”

She blinked, realizing she’d been too busy watching him to even start. “Delicious.” She took a forkful and ate. Yeah, it was good.

“I don’t know how you could give up steak, Addie. You know, God put animals on the earth for us to consume. They’re gifts. Just like that fish.”

The fish that was alive once, too. She wasn’t going to get into the treatment of cows, not at the table with guests who were eating steak as well. “I’ll stick to the fish, thank you.”

“It’s not good to give up things that your body wants. Craves.” He gave her a look that made her think he wasn’t talking about steak. “The craving doesn’t go away, you know. It sits dormant, waiting until you’re weak. Then it overtakes you.” He stabbed another piece of steak and stuck it in his mouth. His jaws flexed as he chewed slowly, his gaze on hers.

“That’s why you have to be strong in your convictions when you give up things you know aren’t good for you.” She took a bite of salmon.

“But you can’t always be strong. No one is strong a hundred percent of the time.”

A few months ago, she’d cruised past the butcher’s case at the grocery store, rows of deep red marbled steaks calling out to her. The memory of the taste had made her mouth water. Like it was watering now.

She had given up a lot. Friendships. Relationships. Having a life. She swallowed a piece of salmon.

Sex.

She wanted that more than a taste of steak. Damn. Giving up everything had
worked fine all these years. She’d blotted out that need for it and hadn’t even indulged in looking. Except for that film about the male strippers and those salad-dressing ads where the guy kept losing his shirt. Sometimes she’d backed up the DVR to watch it again.

And now Risk had come in and … 
un
blotted it.

He gave her a slow grin that twined right to the core of her. “You want it, don’t you?” he said in a low voice meant just for her.

The wine must have been getting to her, because she almost nodded. Okay, she wanted it. Not the steak. Well, maybe the steak a little, but she wanted Risk. A lot.