Karen Foley – Coming Up for Air (страница 3)

He splayed one hand at the small of her back, while his other held hers captive. There was nothing tentative or polite about the action; it was uncompromisingly confident, bordering on possessive. He maintained just enough space between the framework of their bodies so that they weren’t actually touching, but Jenna could feel the heat he generated.

“I haven’t seen you in here before.” His voice was warm and rich, with a distinctly Texan drawl.

Jenna suppressed a smile, enjoying the easy way he maneuvered her body to match his movements. “That’s because I’ve never been in here before.”

He drew back slightly and his eyes narrowed as they traveled leisurely over her features. “Have we met?”

Her breath caught as he suddenly spun her into a neat turn beneath his hand, before bringing her back into his arms. “Oh, wow.” She laughed. “Wasn’t expecting that.” She regained her focus, feeling a little off-balance, steadied only by the warm hand at her back. “Um, no. We haven’t actually met, unless you count the time I nearly ran you over in the grocery store last week.”

“Ah …” he said meaningfully, as if something had finally clicked. “I knew I’d seen you before.” He increased the pressure of his fingers, urging her closer. His warm breath fanned her ear. “So how do you know my name?”

Jenna leaned back enough to stare boldly into his eyes. “I asked.”

Their gazes held for a long moment, before his lips curved in a slow smile. He gave a soft laugh of either amusement or admiration and then he eased her body closer, sliding his palm up to rest between her shoulder blades, while he curled his other hand around her fingers and pressed them to his chest. The movement brought her up against his hard contours, and beneath the fingers of her free hand, his shoulder muscles bunched and relaxed.

Jenna’s heart beat faster than necessary; too fast for such a slow dance. She was acutely conscious of how well their bodies fit together, their hips perfectly aligned. If she turned her face even fractionally, her lips would brush against the smooth, tanned skin of his neck. She breathed deeply, inhaling a scent that was intensely clean and yet unmistakably masculine. His soap, or a subtle cologne, maybe. Or some crazy, secret pheromone designed purely to arouse the opposite sex. She wanted to rub herself all over him.

“So, do I get to ask your name?” His voice rumbled softly against her ear.

“Hmm.” She dragged her mind away from the indecent thoughts swirling through her head to concentrate on his words. “Jenna Larson.”

“Are you from around here?”

“No,” she replied, thinking of her home on Cape Cod, in Massachusetts. “Just passing through. And you?”

“Originally from Texas, currently assigned to Fort Bragg. But I guess you know that, too, huh?”

Jenna glanced at his face, but his expression gave nothing away. His good looks aside, she liked his easy smile and the warmth that lingered in his eyes when he studied her. “Actually, I didn’t know you were from Texas. But it wasn’t difficult to guess you’re in the military,” she admitted. “Just about every guy in here tonight is. All you have to do is look at the haircuts.”

The music came to an end, and Jenna reluctantly allowed Chase to lead her from the dance floor. His gaze flicked to his buddies, still congregated around the pool tables, but he didn’t make an immediate move to separate from Jenna.

“Well, thanks for the dance,” she said brightly. But when she would have stepped away, he caught her wrist. She turned back, expectant.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Find someplace a little less crowded?” His voice was low … compelling. His eyes searched hers, and Jenna felt her insides churn with anticipation.

“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

He shrugged and his thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist. “A bottle of wine, an old army blanket and an outstanding view of the jets taking off and landing at Pope Field.” His mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “I happen to know they’re doing night maneuvers, and I promise you, it really is spectacular to watch. We don’t even need to go on base. There’s a field beyond the perimeter that provides a great view.”

Jenna considered him closely. Was it possible he didn’t realize she was also in the military? Of course, there was no reason why he would; she looked completely ordinary in her jeans and button-down sleeveless top, with her hair loose around her shoulders, and it wasn’t as if he could see the dog tags nestled between her breasts. She couldn’t blame him for mistaking her for a civilian.

Despite the fact she’d already decided he was fair game, her instincts screamed at her to refuse his offer. He was too tempting, too confident of his own attraction. She should run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But the expression in his eyes, combined with the seductive stroke of his finger against her skin, was doing strange things to her common sense. She could no longer remember why she should avoid getting involved with military guys, especially when this one was so damned gorgeous. Not that one night could possibly count as getting involved. After all, she’d be gone in three days. She’d never see him again. She glanced toward the bar, where Laura gave her a thumbs-up.

Chase arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

“Well, I do like pinot noir.”

2

WITH HER HAND TUCKED firmly into his, Chance Rawlins steered his spoils through the crowded nightclub, intent on getting her outside before she changed her mind. He recalled the incident in the supermarket, when their carts had collided. Normally, he’d have seized the opportunity to chat her up, maybe get a phone number, but she’d turned her cart away so fast he’d wondered if he’d left his fly unzipped.

The last place he’d expected to run into her again was Shooters nightclub, a place normally reserved for junior officers and local gals looking to get some action. Jenna Larson hadn’t struck him as falling into the latter category, but he’d been wrong.

Lucky for him.

The only reason he’d been at the club tonight was to give his brother, Chase, a decent send-off. He and his unit of elite special ops commandos were scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan in just two days. Despite the fact that most of his brother’s unit had been at the club, ready to raise a beer, Chase hadn’t shown up. Probably doing last-minute paperwork, Chance thought. As identical twins, they took their military duties seriously, but that’s where any similarity ended. Chase was all business, all the time, whereas Chance had no problem setting his work aside to have a little fun.

He glanced at the woman by his side.

Absolutely no problem whatsoever.

He didn’t make a habit of picking women up at clubs, but there was something about this particular woman that made him unable to release her after their dance. She’d aroused an awareness in him, a rush of hot excitement similar to what he felt just before he went out on a dangerous mission. He wasn’t about to ignore it.

He held the door open for Jenna, watching as she preceded him down the walkway to the parking lot. The night was warm and clear, with a soft breeze and the sound of night bugs in the surrounding trees. Jenna paused on the pavement, looking around.

“So which car is yours? Wait—don’t tell me.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “Let me guess.”

Chance came to a stop beside her. “You actually think you can guess which car is mine?”

“Sure.” She took a step back and pretended to size him up. “If I know your type, it’s probably understated and practical, but would need to have a great performance record. Which means it’s an expensive model.” She searched the lot. “I’m guessing an SUV, maybe a Land Rover or an older Land Cruiser.”

Chance gave a soft laugh. She’d just described his brother’s vehicle to a T. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you don’t know my type at all.”

She tossed him a determined look. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

Chance spread his arms wide and grinned. “Take as long as you need, darlin’.”

He watched as she crossed to the first row of cars and paused to survey them. While her back was turned, he strolled to where the motorcycles were parked and threw a leg over the leather seat of a low-slung, black Harley. He turned the key, taking a perverse satisfaction in the way she visibly started at the rumble of the deep, throaty engine. Twisting sideways, he withdrew a half helmet from a saddlebag and dangled it on the end of one finger.

“This is yours?” she asked, disbelief written across her face as she walked toward him.

“You still think you know my type?”

To his relief, she merely gave him a tolerant look and accepted the proffered head gear. Chance secured his own helmet, before glancing at Jenna, who stood watching him.

“Climb on,” he invited, and rose to a standing position to give her more room. When she’d settled herself behind him, he sat down, acutely aware of her long legs bracketing his hips. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “I have a jacket in the saddlebag. You’re welcome to use it.”