CHAPTER 6
Atlanta
“I don’t like this,” Jamie Flanagan said as he snapped his cell shut. He and Payne currently sat in Samuel’s Pub, their usual haunt and his favorite place to get hot wings and good Irish whiskey. Audrey--his increasingly moody and beautifully pregnant wife--was watching a chick flick with Payne’s fiancé, Emma. Pleading boredom, Jamie and Payne had escaped to the pub, which was where Guy had finally caught them on Jamie’s cell.
“Don’t like what?” Payne asked.
“His first day back on base and Guy’s already ran into Rutland.” Miserable bastard, Jamie thought. He’d never hated a person more. In fact, he’d never hated anybody but Rutland.
Payne’s expression blackened. “I don’t like it either.”
“He saw him at Frank’s. Said Rutland was being a smug ass.”
“That certainly fits his profile.” Payne tipped back his beer. “When was he not a smug ass?”
Jamie chuckled and took a drink of whiskey. “He wasn’t so smug when we were beating the hell out of him, was he?”
Looking more relaxed than Jamie had ever seen him, Payne grinned, conceding the point. “There is that. But he deserved it.”
Jamie had been in his share of fights over the years, particularly when he was younger, but the older he’d gotten, the more he’d learned to control his temper. Rutland had provoked them many times, but the night he’d ran his mouth about Danny had been the last damned straw.
He’d snapped and Guy and Payne had followed suit.
“Guy’s convinced that Garrett has left him in the dark again.” Payne had already told him about Julia Beckam and passed around her mug shot. Truthfully, they’d all gotten a kick out of it. Leave it to Garrett to pair Guy up with a sentimental how-does-that-make-you-feel? hottie.
Jamie had already gotten married--the best damned decision he’d ever made--and Payne and Emma were unexpectedly tying the knot this weekend and in a unique twist, the bride didn’t have any idea. Jamie grinned. If Guy brought this Julia Beckam home and kept her, then they were going to all have to thank Garrett, or at the very least nickname him Colonel Cupid.
Jamie selected a hot wing and dipped in a pool of cool ranch dressing. “From what Guy picked up from Rutland, brass is sounding off about Garrett losing his touch and is waving the retirement flag at him.”
Payne frowned. “Garrett? Retire? I can’t imagine him taking that well.”
Him either, Jamie thought. “That’s why he’s called in Guy. He pulled together Project Chameleon’s replacement team and headlined the former team leader as an instructor.” Jamie shrugged and let go a long breath. “My guess is he’s trying to prove that he’s still got it and Guy’s his ace-in-the-hole.”
Payne paused consideringly, that cool pragmatic mind working. “If Garrett’s hid something else from him, his ace-in-the-hole is going to turn into a friggin’ landmine. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be around when he detonated.”
Jamie snorted. “Nobody in their right would.”
* * *
Guy rapped lightly on Julia’s door and waited for her to appear. They’d agreed last night before parting ways that riding together to the educational center made more sense than driving separately. If she hadn’t been feeling sorry for him, Guy knew she would have put up an argument. Simply for the sake of argument, he thought with a grin. As it was, though he hated being pitied, he had to admit that he didn’t mind that her sympathy had worked to his advantage.
He didn’t have any idea how she had slept, but rest hadn’t come easy to him last night. Between knowing that she was next door, her hair probably down and practically naked in a nightie, and laboring under the mistaken impression that there was something wrong with her sexual performance--God, how he wanted to remedy that notion for her and his imagination had obligingly called up many different lessons, each one more depraved than the last. Not to mention worrying about conducting this friggin’ class today, Guy’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
Being here was hard enough, made him feel like the ultimate fraud--who was he to teach these boys when he’d betrayed his own team by allowing one of their own to get killed?--but Guy couldn’t shake the sensation that the other shoe was about to drop.
And for whatever reason, he suspected the shoe belonged to Rutland.
Guy had replayed last night’s exchange over and over and he kept coming back to Rutland’s parting comment. Count on it. He’d hadn’t been simply confident--he’d been certain.
There was a difference.
Guy had called Jamie last night and filled him in on the newest developments and his friend had agreed. Something wasn’t kosher, that was for damned sure, and whatever it was would undoubtedly be brought to Guy’s attention this morning.
At any rate, he’d reviewed the curriculum again--he and Julia had briefly skimmed things last night when they’d returned from Frank’s--and he felt like he was as prepared as he could be, given that he didn’t feel like he really had anything to offer.
In his typical maverick form, he’d decided he didn’t particularly care for the present outline and would be doing a bit more practical lecturing rather than putting them through a bunch of pointless exercises.
Garrett wanted him to come in here and recreate his team and that simply wasn’t going to happen. No amount of team-building or advice from Julia on how to build a trusting relationship would duplicate the years of experience, camaraderie and genuine friendship between he, Payne, Jamie and Danny.
The dynamic couldn’t be duplicated.
And if Garrett was betting otherwise to keep from being put out to pasture, then he’d better think again.
Hell, they’d been friends for eight years before they’d been selected for Project Chameleon. Though it sounded sentimental, he and his buddies and current business partners were more than friends--they were brothers of the heart.
Buttoned and “bunned” within an inch of her life, Julia opened the door and smiled at him. Something in his chest gave an unexpected flutter and he found himself inexplicably glad to see her. Odd, that, Guy thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been glad to see a woman, if ever.
Though he loved sex as much as the next man, Guy’d always adhered to The Bachelor League rules he, Danny, Payne and Jamie had authenticated in college. Never spent the entire night with a woman, never let her eat off your plate, and after the third date cut her loose.
Of course, Payne and Jamie had let those rules go by the wayside recently--quite happily--but Guy couldn’t see himself ever settling down. Frankly, though he was careful to keep a tight reign on his temper, he lived with the constant fear that he’d eventually snap and hit a wife, maybe even, God forbid, his child.
Guy had bad blood running through his veins--his bastard father’s--and couldn’t deny that there were times when his temper erupted and he was grimly reminded of his old man. Guy liked to think that he was a better caliber of man, that he’d never do anything so cowardly and horrible, but in the end, who knew? Payne and Jamie insisted that he’d never do anything so terrible, but Guy figured it was better to never take that chance. He’d already failed one person he’d loved--Danny--and didn’t think he could withstand doing anything so gut-wrenching again.
“Good morning,” Julia said. She wore a pale yellow linen pantsuit which looked particularly striking with her hair and a rosy gloss covered that amazing mouth.
The tantalizing scent of bacon and some sort of fruity muffin emanated from behind her, making his mouth inexplicably water. Unlike her, Guy hadn’t been to the grocery store, so all he’d had to eat this morning was a complimentary cup of coffee. He grimaced. And a piss poor one at that. His stomach rumbled. Loudly.
“Something smells good,” he said, shooting her a hopeful look.
She poked her tongue in her cheek. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“What tipped you off? My blatant fishing for an invitation or my stomach growling?”
“Both. You’ll have to hurry, though. I don’t want to be late.”
Her? Really? He would have never guessed, Guy thought with a droll smile. “No worries. I’ll eat fast.”
“Have a seat,” Julia told him, her mouth curving in a soft knowing grin. Once again that odd unfamiliar little flutter winged through his chest. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
The last person to fix him a plate had been his mother, Guy realized, curiously warmed by Julia’s domestic gesture. And that had been too long ago. He tried to visit at least once a month now that he was out of the service, but things didn’t always go according to plan. Janie McCann always took things in stride though, content to count her blessings and be on her own. After eighteen years with a mean drunk prone to believable bouts of repentance, his mother had morphed into a new woman after his father had left.
Guy would never forget that day. His father’d had a bad day at work, had come home early and been instantly enraged because his mother hadn’t had his dinner on the table. Evidently pissed that she didn’t have the psychic ability to know that he’d be arriving an hour before his usual time, he’d lifted a frying pan with an inch of hot grease in the bottom from the stove and hurled it at her. She still bore the scars.
Tired and sweaty from football practice, Guy had walked in just in time to witness the horror and had instantly lit into his father. Fed up and frightened and furious, he’d pummeled the living hell out of him, and probably wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t been for the coke bottle he’d taken upside the head. His father had snagged it from the counter, and the blow to his temple had knocked Guy out cold.
He’d awakened in a hospital room with thirty stitches in the side of his head, his mother, burned but bandaged, at his side. “He’s gone,” she’d said with a simple finality that had brought a wave of instant relief, and Guy had never asked to where.
Hank McCann had never been seen or heard from again, at least not in Burnt Rock, Alabama.
“The coffee will be ready in a minute,” Julia said, sliding a plate in front of him. “How do you like it?”
Guy blinked, pulled away from the memory and managed a smile. “Black, thanks.” He snagged a piece of bacon. “Do you always cook breakfast?” he asked. He enjoyed it, of course, but never seemed to have the time.
Julia nodded. “I do. My dad was a three-square- meals type, so I got used to having a full breakfast. Every once in a while I’ll settle for a muffin, but most of the time I cook. I enjoy it,” she said, pulling a small shrug. “So it’s no problem.”
She set a cup of coffee beside his plate, then tidied the kitchen while he inhaled his food. “That was excellent,” Guy told her. He rinsed off his plate. “Thank you. Do you usually have that many leftovers?” he asked her, shooting her a grin. “Cause if so, you can count on me finishing things up for you every morning while we’re here.”
“I thought I might.”
“That easy to read, am I?”
That sexy mouth curled around the edges and she quirked a pointed brow. “You’re a man, aren’t you?” She dried her hands, then looked around the kitchen, presumably to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. “We should probably get going.”
“Hey,” Guy teased, feigning offense. “Don’t be insulting my gender.” He followed her back to the living room and waited while she collected her purse and attaché case. “What’s for dinner, by the way?”
“Chicken Marsala.”
“I’m invited, right?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“I don’t know yet, but I thought I’d better qualify it.”
He’d give her something to qualify, Guy decided, the little smart ass. She’d just reached for the doorknob when he snagged her elbow and whirled her around to face him. A startled oomph of air leaked out of her mouth...and promptly into his as he sealed his lips over hers.
Yum.
Breakfast had been good, but this was better.
She responded instantly, her mouth going soft and welcoming and there was nothing tentative about her tongue tangling around his. He felt her body quicken with instant desire, then melt against him and his dick instantly went hard, nudging her belly. A tingle started at the nape of his neck and zipped down his spine, making him rock forward against her.
It wasn’t nearly close enough.
She whimpered into his mouth, the sound desperate and needy and it vibrated something deep inside of him.
And she thought something was wrong with her? Guy marveled again. She was the most responsive woman he’d ever touched--absolutely lit him up--and yet she didn’t see it?
Mind-boggling. Absolutely mind-boggling.
He didn’t just want to take her--he wanted to consume her. He wanted to taste her all over, the side of her neck, the fragrant valley between her breasts, the silky, perfect line of her hip...then feast between her thighs, the softest, sweetest part of her.
Julia tore her mouth from his. “We’ve...got to...go,” she gasped brokenly, her gaze heavy-lidded and darkened with need.
“To the bedroom?”
A helpless chuckle bubbled up her throat. “To work,” she said.
“Oh.” He rested his forehead against hers, willed his racing pulse to slow and his aching groin to subside. “Have you thought anymore about my offer?”
“What offer?” she asked though he could tell she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Last night I offered to sleep with you, remember? To prove there’s nothing wrong with you.”
She giggled. “Vaguely.”
“You should probably take me up on that,” Guy told her matter-of-factly.
She smiled and hummed under her breath. “What’s in it for me?”
He drew back, a bit startled by the question--possibly because the women he’d had sex with had always anticipated the benefits--but ultimately recovered. She wanted to know what was in it for her? Fine. He’d tell her. Guy lowered his voice. “A night of hard, back-bending, balls-to-the-wall, no-holds-barred wild gorilla sex.” He rocked forward, punctuating the promise with a deliberate thrust. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”
Julia’s gaze darkened even more and a shaky breath leaked gratifyingly out of her lungs. “Oh,” she said weakly. “Is that all?”
Guy leaned his head back and laughed. “Baby, if it’s not enough then we’re in trouble.”
* * *
She was already in trouble, Julia thought helplessly as every particle in her body thrummed with unfulfilled sexual agony. Between that bone-melting lip-lock in Guy’s truck last night, to the spine-tingling tender kiss he’d given her right before he’d walked over to his side of the duplex when they’d returned from the restaurant, Julia’s sexual frustration levels had reached critical mass.
When he’d offered to sleep with her to prove that there was nothing wrong with her sexually, he’d had no idea how close he’d been to her own thoughts. She’d wanted him to sleep with her for completely different reasons, of course--to teach her how to properly have balls-to-the-wall, no-holds-barred wild gorilla sex.
She swallowed a whimper at the mere thought.
Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She wanted to have sex with him because he absolutely tripped every possible trigger she possessed--and some she hadn’t known were there. That crooked grin made her belly go all hot and muddled and her brain turn to complete mush. He was gorgeous and charming, wicked and witty and the devil in her recognized the devil in him. He was funny and chivalrous and...and wounded, Julia thought, remembering the haunted look in his eyes when he’d told her about his friend.
Because she was a nurturer by nature and because she felt the inherent need to “fix” everyone, Julia instantly wanted to reach out and help him. His pain tugged at her heartstrings, and his vulnerability somehow made him all the more appealing. It meant he had the capacity to feel--to really care and love--and if she wasn’t careful she’d inevitably end up wanting him to care and love her.
And that was guaranteed heartache.
Not exactly what she was looking for with her guaranteed orgasm.
Ultimately, it had occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one who needed a lesson. She needed a skilled sexual instructor, and Guy McCann needed to a.)realize that he wasn’t responsible for his friend’s death and b.) learn to trust himself again.
Because he didn’t.
He hadn’t told her as much, of course--pride wouldn’t allow it--but it was easy enough to see when she read between the lines.
For the time being they needed each other and once Julia had realized that she had something to offer Guy in return for his help--other than her body--she’d decided she’d be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.
Right, wrong or stupid--and two out of three of those were probably accurate--she fully intended to have wild gorilla sex with Guy McCann.
Julia released a slow breath. Business first, pleasure later, she told herself and fished the keys out of her purse. She locked up and started down the sidewalk, Guy and his satisfaction guaranteed promise at her back, making her pulse sing in her veins.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you said we’d ride together.”
She blinked innocently and looked from him to her car and back again. “We are.”
He paused, a slow-dawning smile sliding across his lips. “In my truck.”
“You never said that.”
“It was implied.”
“I must have missed that.”
“Julia.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Guy” she finally said, exasperated. She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “Just get in the damned car. We’re going to be late.”
“It’s a chick car,” he grumbled under his breath. He scooted the seat back and reluctantly climbed inside.
Julia smiled, started the car and pulled away from the curb. “It’s a Volkswagon. Men drive them, too.”
“Men don’t drive Bugs. Especially baby blue ones,” he added grimly.
“Men who are confident in their masculinity don’t mind.”
He grunted under his breath and scowled adorably at the flower in the cup-holder of her dash. “Spoken like a true chick.”
“Do you want to tell me where we’re going?”
He slid her a slightly smug glance. “Where’s your map?”
“Beneath your ass.”
Guy laughed and looked away. “I can’t win, can I?”
Julia felt her lips twitch. “Are we playing a game?”
Guy sighed and his strangely puzzled gaze drifted over her face, making her belly clench. “No, but I think I’m losing anyway.”
“Tell me where we going,” she said, warmed by that hot green stare.
Guy did and in five minutes they’d pulled into the parking lot. Julia climbed from the car and snagged her attaché case. Guy merely adjusted his shades and seemed to be bracing himself for what was to come.
“I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say to these guys,” Julia told him. “You must have several good stories to tell.”
Guy smiled, seemingly recognizing the gesture for what it was--a vote of confidence. “Some,” he conceded. “Come on,” he told her, snugging a finger into the small of her back and nudging her forward. “Let’s get this over with.”
Outfitted in serviceable beige tile and painted cinderblock walls, the educational building was functional with no frills. The scent of bleach, sweat and various men’s colognes hung in the air and an occasional potted plant offered the vaguest attempt of décor. Guy unerringly led them to their classroom, then his mouth set in a grim, resigned line, he opened the door for her and ushered her in.
Four men sat in regular classroom chairs at the front of the room and each one of them turned around as they entered.
“Speak of the devil,” one of the men said in a heavily sarcastic voice Julia recognized from last night. A gust of dread blindsided her.
Oh, God.
Richard Rutland.
Behind her Guy went dangerously still. Julia turned around in time to watch he and Rutland lock gazes. Guy’s was hard and ominous, while Rutland’s seem positively--evilly--delighted.
“Give me your keys,” Guy said in a voice so devoid of emotion it practically thundered in the suddenly silent room.
Julia did.
Oy. Apparently men did drive baby blue Bugs.