Laura Kaye - Hard As It Gets

He pursed his lips for a long moment. “Saturday, then. First thing in the morning or late evening.”

Jeremy slapped his hand to the sketch. “Done.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “So, you kids hanging, or what?”

The innuendo in the question flooded heat into Becca’s cheeks.

“Becca will be here for a few days. I’m going to put her in Katherine’s room.”

Who the heck was Katherine? Becca’s level of discomfort ratcheted up another notch, creating an odd emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Or maybe that was just the fact she hadn’t eaten since . . . hmm. The piece of coffee cake she’d nibbled on in the break room this morning?

“Okay, well, welcome to the Hard Ink Hotel,” Jeremy said with a smile and a bowed flourish. “Stay as long as you like. I’ll try not to walk around naked while you’re here.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Nick smacked him on the back of the head, which only made Jeremy laugh and strike out with a punch that missed. “Come on,” Nick said, guiding her toward the door. “Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t do that. Much.”

“See ya later, Becca,” Jeremy called, amusement coloring his voice.

“Bye,” she said, scooping her pillow from the floor, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“Apartment’s this way.” Nick started up the steps. “We own the whole building, so you don’t have to worry about anyone else coming or going.”

She nodded, and her heart hitched up toward her throat as they reached the landing bracketed by two more nondescript industrial doors. Another electronic code got them into the one on the right.

Unlike the hallway, the apartment wasn’t what she expected at all. With its dark kitchen cabinetry, distressed plank flooring, and chic-but-industrial fixtures, it could easily have been a warehouse loft in one of the upscale rehab developments along the expensive Fells Point waterfront. “This is really nice.” A long, narrow island with a stove and a black granite breakfast bar was all that separated the open, airy kitchen from the spacious living room. Less surprising in the home of two men was the huge plasma TV that hung on the opposite wall in front of a giant brown leather couch and two well-worn, overstuffed recliners. An overflowing bookshelf spanned the short wall before the back hallway.

Nick looked around the space, as if seeing it for the first time. “Yeah. Can’t take any credit for it, though. All Jer’s doing.” He crossed the room and led her down a long hallway, giving her the guided tour. “Jeremy’s room is here. Bathroom here. Mine’s back there. And this”—he turned a corner and flipped on a light—“will be yours. It’s nicer than the guest room we have.” He settled her bag on the wide-plank floor.

Becca leaned against the jamb, discomfort at invading another woman’s space giving her pause. Although, as she glanced in, there was nothing particularly feminine or personal about the room. A queen bed with a sturdy oak headboard and a plain maroon comforter sat against the lone brick wall, and a long oak dresser with a mirror filled an adjacent space. The warm coffee color on the other three walls tied it all together. “Who’s Katherine?”

He cut his gaze to her. “Our little sister. She’s a lawyer in D.C., so she’s rarely ever here, but when she comes, this is where she stays.”

Sister. So, two brothers and a sister, just like her family. Well, just like it had once been.

Before their mom died, she, Charlie, and Scott had been tight—Batman, Robin, and Batgirl had been Charlie’s favorite game for them. After their mom died, things started to change. Their aunt came to stay with them whenever their dad deployed, and age and disparate interests took them in different directions. But the thread of loss and grief kept the three of them tied together enough that they could slip into that old closeness when they wanted it or needed it. Man, what she wouldn’t give for Scott to be here now. With their dad often away, he’d always been so protective of her and Charlie. He would know what to do, where to start. What if she couldn’t figure this out by herself?

Nick shifted beside her, making her realize she’d just been hanging in the doorway. And that, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she felt.

Becca stepped into the room and dropped her pillow onto the bed, and a growl roared out of her stomach so loud it nearly echoed among the exposed beams and ductwork of the tall ceiling. She clamped a hand to her belly and chanced a glance at Nick.

The corners of his lips tipped up. “Guess it would be redundant to ask if you’re hungry.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t realize how much.”

“Well, that’s a problem I can solve. Tell me you eat meat.”

Nick was going to cook her dinner? Or, er, meat at least? Now she was curious. “Uh, what if I don’t?”

His bottom lip almost pouted, and the expression was as unexpected as it was cute on his masculine face. “Well, that would be a shame, because it would mean I can’t cook you my specialty.”

“You have a specialty?”

He crossed his arms. “Of course I have a specialty.”

She just bet he did. A soldier who carried her bag, tried to open the car door for her, put her up in his house to protect her, and now offered to cook her dinner. This guy was ten kinds of dangerous. And in more ways than she’d expected when she’d come to him for help. “Well, then, I eat meat.”

The left side of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile, hinting at a dimple on his cheek.

A freaking dimple. A single spot of softness on a man otherwise built of hard planes and rough edges. Becca tried not to stare, she really did. But she found herself wanting to press her lips to the little indent. For starters.

“Good. Take whatever time you need to get settled in. There’s towels and stuff in the bathroom next door. Come out to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

She shook the ludicrous urge away. “You really don’t have to go to any trouble. We could just order a pizza. I already feel bad enough—”

He stepped in close, his heat and masculine scent, all leather and clean spice, invading her space. “It’s no trouble, Becca.”

Awareness raced from her head to her toes. For a split second, she couldn’t breathe, and the urge to lean into him, to lay her head against that big chest, to fist her hands in his clothes, had her nearly swaying on her feet. Would his body feel as hard and strong as it looked? Would his arms hold her tight, or lay loosely at the small of her back, his fingers interlaced? A rush of heat threaded through her veins. She forced herself to take a step back. “Need help?”

His eyes narrowed the smallest bit as they ran over her face. Had he felt the same pull? “Nope. I got this.”

She smiled, wondering what the heck he planned to make but satisfied to let it be a surprise. “Okey dokey.”

“Yell if you need anything,” he said, then stepped out the door and pulled it closed with a soft click.

For a moment, she stared at the back of the door. And then the day caught up with her and she sagged to the bed. Letting her back collapse onto the firm mattress, her eyes traced a random pattern over the exposed architectural elements above her.

But her mind stayed firmly on Nick Rixey. He was just . . . really freaking gorgeous. And he was making her dinner. And, tonight, he’d be sleeping down the hall.

Between the way he’d reacted to her plea for help the day before and his general history as a Special Forces soldier, Becca had no doubt: Nick Rixey was the walking personification of “complication.”

And Charlie going missing was all the complication she could handle.

Charlie was out there somewhere in trouble. He was the only thing that mattered right now. Not how hot Nick was, or how he tempted her body with desires she hadn’t felt in a really long time, or how safe she felt with him. She blew out a deep breath. Soon her eyelids grew heavy and her body melted into the soft comforter.

Get up, get up, get up, she told herself. Yes, that was totally what she should do. Get up, go out there, and see what the sexy soldier man was cooking her for dinner. The thought made her smile, although she was far too drowsy to know if her cheeks actually managed to move in response. So, right. She was totally going to get up. In just a minute, or ten . . .

Nick slid the large skillet off the hot burner, hoping a little food would ease the anxiety that had been rolling off Becca since she’d first settled into the passenger seat of his car. She’d been a champ at holding it together, but it didn’t take a genius to see that the night’s events hung around her neck like an anchor, threatening to pull her under the surface. And who could blame her?

When she’d asked who Katherine was, his brain had imagined his sister in Becca’s situation. And the momentary mental exercise had both twisted his gut and lit up every protective instinct he possessed.

So, here he was cooking sloppy joes—his favorite meal, the one his mother had always made to cheer one of them up—for his dead CO’s daughter.

What a cluster.

He set out everything they’d need to eat and poured a couple of glasses of water. Then he made his way back down the hall and knocked softly at her door. No answer.

“Becca? No rush. Just wanted to let you know dinner’s ready.” Frowning at the silence on the other side, Rixey hesitated, then cracked open the door. “Hey, Becca?”

She was sound asleep at the bottom of the bed, her face turned to the side, her feet still on the floor. It was like she’d just fallen over from exhaustion. And, given the dark circles under her eyes, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

Standing at the threshold to the room, he debated whether to just bug out or wake her. Her body had clearly been craving some sustenance, but maybe she needed sleep more. His indecision annoyed him, so finally he pushed into the room and crossed to the side of the bed. “Becca? Hey, Becca, wake up.” No response. Out cold.

He eased the covers back from the top of the bed so he could slip her between them. Crouching by her legs, he removed her sneakers, then he leaned in over her.

God, she was pretty, with her soft, pale skin and her full, pink lips. The yellow shirt nearly matched her long hair, still pulled back in a ponytail. She just had a light about her he found so appealing. Because, these days, he didn’t have much light in his own life. Everything was dark and heavy, saddling him with the bone-crushing weight of guilt and regret and wants never to be fulfilled. But Becca was just . . . sunshine, warm and life-giving.

His gut clenched. What if she’d gone upstairs when she’d gotten home earlier? What if the guy rooting through her office had been armed? What if Rixey hadn’t arrived when he had?

He couldn’t know the answers, of course, but he knew enough to know he didn’t like any of the likelies.

He slid his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted her up. Her warmth soaked into his skin, making him crave more of it, especially when she turned her face into his chest. God, when was the last time a woman had touched him?

“Charlie,” she whispered.

A sharp wave of jealousy speared through him for a split second, until his brain’s cognitive function pushed through the possessive urges and reminded him that Charlie was her brother’s name. Jesus. Where the hell had that come from? What right did he have feeling jealous over her?

Refusing to examine those questions too closely, he laid her against the cool sheet and pulled the covers over her. She stirred, mumbling a little and pushing her bottom lip into a pout, and then she stilled again.

His body tight with all kinds of desires he’d no business having, Rixey turned on his heel, killed the lights, and closed the door behind him.

Back in the kitchen, he braced his hands against the counter and stared at the paper plates, napkins, and drinks he’d laid out on the breakfast bar. Probably better dinner hadn’t happened, after all. She didn’t have much insight into who might’ve broken into her place, and he had some things to look into before deciding how best to approach her brother’s alleged disappearance. What the hell else did that leave them to talk about?

So, did you know your father’s lies and betrayal led to the deaths of six of my friends, impugned my honor, and ended my military career? Can you pass me another bun?