How exactly did I get roped into this again?

Oh, yeah, the guilt card had been played in a major way and she’d been the sucker who’d caved. Also known as “doing a big-ass favor for a friend”. Lexi sighed. It really hadn’t been so bad and it was for a good cause, right? At least there’d been some decent eye candy to pass the time, although “decent” might be an understatement. All those fit, hard bodies. Close-cropped hair. And muscles, let’s not forget the muscles, a whole hell of a lot of them. And, oh man, add to that a uniform and you had a serious case of “wow”.

Just when she figured she’d put in enough time to be able to bow out, she saw him. Some guys had the walk, you know? The signature stride that drew the eye with its easy movement, the one that screamed confidence, the one you just knew meant he had to be awesome in bed. Or at least he thought he was. And this guy had it all going on. He had the same ripped, honed body, yet even in a crowded airport filled with returning serviceman—big, hot, hunky guys—he still somehow managed to stand out.

He wore dark, wrinkled cargo pants that rode low on lean hips and a black t-shirt that had seen better days, the seams stretched to the max over a massive chest and thick biceps. The shirt hung a little loose over a hard, flat stomach and God, how she loved that look on a guy.

His hair was dark and short, sticking up in places as if he’d run impatient fingers through it, and he had at least a day’s beard growth covering lean cheeks and the hard angles of his jaw. He should have just looked scruffy, he was scruffy, yet he exuded a sharp, savage awareness that had the air almost crackling with energy around him. Despite his casual appearance, his every movement screamed “fighter”, plain and simple.

He was rough, rugged and God help her, edible. She had an urge to lift up his t-shirt and taste that hard skin, put her mouth to him, lick him until he whimpered. Would a guy like that whimper? Would he even know how? What she wouldn’t give to find out. She took a deep breath at the curl of heat low in her abdomen. It had been too long, way too long, if she was drooling over a guy just because he had a spectacular bod. She snorted to herself. He probably had women hanging all over him on a regular basis and she’d never been much for following the crowd.

And just look at him. He was scanning the area as if he’d prefer to be anywhere but here. Now that she could relate to.

Lexi dragged her gaze away with an effort to land on the guy next to him. Oh, so not fair. They were of a similar height and build, but where the first guy was dark, this one was light. He was dressed in sand-colored cargoes, a white t-shirt and except for the hard edge in his gaze, he could have been a beach bum—brown sun-streaked hair, blue eyes and tanned. Separately, they were more than drool-worthy. Together, they almost hurt her eyes they were so stunning. And she wasn’t the only one to notice.

She watched with more than a little interest when the blond guy dropped his duffel and embraced the woman who stepped up and straight into his arms as if she belonged there. It was a clutching, clinging hold, his arms wrapped completely around her, almost as if they wanted in each other’s skin. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her throat went dry and she felt the heat in her cheeks.

Jeez, guys…get a room already.

Lexi swallowed and looked away. It was intimate, too intimate, and that’s when reality set in, hard and fast. She didn’t have anyone to hold or anyone to hold her and probably never ever like that anyway. As it was, she wasn’t even likely to be getting any action anytime soon. Mr. Hot Bod was staring down at the floor, almost as if he couldn’t stand to look at them either. As if sensing her eyes on him, his lids lifted and his dark gaze zeroed right in on her.

Chocolate. The color of his eyes made her think of melted chocolate—dark, decadent and so not good for her. In fact, probably outright bad for her. His look was bold and assessing and unapologetic as hell.

Lexi cleared her throat. “Welcome home, soldier.”

Groan.

It wasn’t what she’d meant to say but at least she hadn’t blurted out what she was really thinking. Yeah, that wouldn’t have been good, but it still pissed her off because her voice came out a lot huskier than normal. Why? Because he was a hot guy and pushed her buttons? Every single one of them? Please. He probably had a voice like Mickey Mouse.

“Yeah. Why don’t you save that for someone who’ll appreciate it more?”

Okay, so he had a deep, gravelly voice that pushed all the aforementioned buttons—hard—and then some. She couldn’t help thinking about what he’d sound like whispering dirty, naughty things in her ear while he did dirty, naughty things to her body. So maybe he was lacking in the size department. Nah. No guy strutted around like he owned the place with nothing under the hood. Besides, the size of those hands and feet pretty much nixed that thought.

His eyes narrowed on her before he turned away and she ground her teeth together. He hadn’t given her more than a cursory once-over. Most of the guys coming through the welcome station were happy to be home, eager to be with friends, family and loved ones. Grateful. Not this sorry, surly ass.

“Jeez, someone needs a hug,” she muttered.

His head whipped back around. He looked surprised, as if he’d already dismissed her from his mind and wondered who the hell she was. And he didn’t strike her as the type of guy who was surprised very often. His eyes didn’t move from hers, but somehow she knew he’d seen as much of her as if he’d slid his gaze up and down her body in a detailed inventory.

“Yeah?” he drawled. “You handing out those too?”

Actually, she’d lost count of the number she’d given today. They’d been brief, casual, simple “welcome homes” and none had gotten her stomach twisted in knots at the mere thought of it.

“Here.”

He glanced down at the bottle of chilled water she all but shoved at him. The corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t qualify for the hug then?”

He didn’t think she would, Lexi could see that. She’d never backed down from a challenge in her life, even if it was idiotic. In fact, that was one of her weaknesses, probably her biggest one. She’d been here for three long hours, handing out water, snacks and hugs, a whole lot of hugs. She needed to get her kicks where she could, right?

“Why not?” she countered.

Lexi stepped to him before she chickened out, reached a hand up to his shoulder and leaned in. The flesh under her hand was warm and firm. Okay, it was more like rock hard and even through the t-shirt she could feel the heat coming off his big body. Before she could pull back, he’d wrapped an arm around the back of her waist and eased her closer to him. She’d meant the hug to be quick and impersonal, just like all the others, except he was too big, too warm and smelled so damn good she’d forgotten the point of it.

He held her loosely and didn’t do anything inappropriate, yet all of a sudden Lexi had difficulty breathing. She swallowed at the wash of heat that surged through her, arrowed down between her legs and caused a stinging ache, deep inside. He smelled like a man should—hot, woodsy with a hint of something elusive that just said “guy”, and “hot guy” at that. It was a turn on, plain and simple. He was a turn on. God, did he realize what a weapon of mass destruction he was? Yeah, he probably did.

She felt the deep breath he pulled into his lungs and frowned. She eased back and he released her immediately.

He stared at her for a second before a frown appeared between his eyes. “Thanks for the bump and grind, but I gotta go.”

Lexi felt heat crawl into her cheeks and clenched her hands into fists. It had nothing to do with her reaction to him. Nothing. He was just a rude, obnoxious…

“What the hell is your problem?” she hissed.

One of his eyebrows lifted. “My problem?”

“I’m here, voluntarily and on my own free time as a service to welcome you home and you—”

“So? You want a medal for that?”

“So? So?” she all but sputtered. “So, the least you could do—”

“Is what? Christ,” he sighed and shook his head. “Do-fucking-gooders.”

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

“Is that the best you can do?” He laughed, laughed and Lexi ground her teeth to keep from saying anything else. “Baby, I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse than that, believe me.”

Baby?

“Come home with me.”

Lexi’s stomach jolted and for a split second she thought he’d said the words. And to her.

Wrong on both counts. They both turned to look at the blond guy at the same time. She’d completely forgotten about him and that had to be saying a lot. If the expression on the dark-haired guy’s face was anything to go on, he’d forgotten him too.

Maybe she had rocked his world some—just a little—or at the very least provided an unwelcome distraction.

Mr. Hot Bod gave her a last quick look, cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Nah,” he said to the blond guy. “You go enjoy yourself.”

Lexi could guess exactly how the blond guy was going to do that if the way the woman was clutching his hand was any indication. Some women had all the luck.

“Come on, man—”

“Fuck, Jake, don’t we spend enough time together? Look, I plan to hole up somewhere, get some decent sleep on a soft bed, drink some good quality beer and get laid. As often as possible. Don’t need a babysitter for that.” He glanced at the other woman. “You get in some quality time, okay?”

“You’re not fooling me. Anonymous sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

He choked out a laugh. “Yeah? I deserve some oblivion. We’re both long overdue. You get it your way, I’ll get it mine.”

He glanced back at her, a single hot glance that said he probably knew what she looked like naked and she didn’t exactly do it for him, hoisted his duffel more firmly over his shoulder and walked off. No, sauntered. The way he moved couldn’t be called mere walking and dammit if she still didn’t get a tingle just from watching him.

Lexi sighed, her gaze fixed on the way the soft fabric of his pants hugged the hard curves of his ass, when her phone beeped. God, how she’d come to hate the sound. She should have turned the damn thing off. The sense of dread that was never far from the surface rose up and over her like an ominous blanket, even before she took the phone out of her pocket, flipped open the cover and looked at the text. All the warmth, even the sharp heat of annoyance was gone, replaced in an instant with ice—cold and black—in her gut, deep inside her bones.

She flipped the sound off and slid the phone back into the pocket of her jeans. She glanced around, trying to act normal, trying to be normal. Everyone was going about their business, living their everyday lives, taking care of everyday, mundane things. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. She tried to swallow, but the ice had made its way up into her throat. She hated feeling like this, hated feeling helpless, clueless and scared. And yeah, she couldn’t help but be a little resentful. How she wished her only problem was some gorgeous jerk who defined a new level of rude and thought he was God’s gift to women. That she knew how to handle. This other crap? Not so much.

* * * * *

What were the chances?

Nash leaned back against the bar and lowered his lids while he kept his gaze trained on the dance floor. For someone he’d written off as too young, too blonde and too “cute”, she sure knew how to move that hot body. And those curves…where the hell had she been hiding those curves at the airport earlier?

He knew despite his civilian clothes and longer-than-regulation hair, he looked military. He lived it and breathed it, so why not? And he knew the way he carried himself pretty much catalogued him too. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do about that.

The dismissive line he’d thrown her should have left her speechless, stopped her in her tracks, had her crying back to her mama. Nope. Not even close. She’d looked down her nose at him as if she’d missed the cutting comeback. Even if the brush-off had gone over her head, the scowl was usually enough on its own.

Tough guys had cringed under one of his famous scowls, but not her. And she’d called him an asshole. He smiled. She’d muttered it low enough that no one around them would be able to hear. Except him. He’d bet she’d pitched it perfectly to be sure he heard it though.

Right now she was wearing a short denim skirt, a white tank top and cowboy boots. Oh, man, those boots. Even though she was kind of short, they made her legs look endless. Sleek, smooth expanses of honey skin he could all too easily picture wrapped around his hips. Hooked in the crook of his elbows. Or draped over his shoulders. He swallowed. And yeah, she’d have nothing but those boots on.

All at once he was hard and not just his dick. Every single muscle in his body had stiffened at those images crowding his brain. Christ, it couldn’t be because of her. So she was the first woman he’d been close to in months. He still should have been able to get the feel of her softness out of his mind by now, along with how sweet she’d smelled.

He told himself he’d still been raw from witnessing the reception Jake had gotten from his girlfriend. They’d held on to each other as if they couldn’t get close enough. Man, whatever floated his boat. Even though Nash thought being reduced to that was lame, he could still wonder what it felt like to want—to need—someone else like that, right?

He shook his head.

He just needed a woman, any woman. He could barely remember the last time he’d had the luxury of being inside one. All he knew was that it’d been rough and quick. A momentary flash of sensation, fleeting and then…nothing. Not nearly satisfying enough, but it had taken the edge off back then. This time? This time he wanted to make it count.

Nash took a swig of his beer. He wasn’t the only chump watching her either. Actually, she had a growing fan club of drooling idiots around the edge of the dance floor, hanging on every sway of those hips. If he hadn’t been honed to assess every specific of a given situation, he’d say she was doing it deliberately, but all his instincts said it was totally unconscious. The guy closest to her leaned back, gave her a heated look up and down and let his gaze focus on the curves of her ass. Nash’s jaw clenched at the move. The guy was cocky. He’d done it so she wouldn’t notice, but didn’t care who else saw him.

The guy looked like an operator and Nash should know, although he’d never been that obnoxious. At least he hoped not. He’d like to think he had more finesse, a lot more. He wondered if she’d be dumb enough to fall for someone like that. Or smart enough to recognize him for exactly what he was and go for it anyway.

And why the fuck should he even care? Damn. Her? Why did it have to be her that piqued his interest? God, of all the women here there were any number who’d been giving him “the look”. The one that said he could approach them and wouldn’t be walking away with a “no”, to whatever he suggested. So why her?

Nash took another swig of his beer as she walked off the dance floor, running a hand around the back of her neck and lifting her hair up. She looked hot, sweaty and so fucking sexy his dick felt as if it was about to rip a hole through the front of his jeans. He was pretty sure he’d have the zipper imprint to prove it. He more than liked the slightly messed look and all at once he had the urge to see her plenty messed up. From being under him. Or on top of him. Or between him and any hard surface. He wasn’t that particular.

While he watched, the dickwad whose eyes had been all over her walked up to her, grabbed her arm and maneuvered her into a booth, blocking her in with his big body. The move was quick, practiced and every muscle in Nash’s body went on full alert. The guy’s bulk hid her from the rest of the room and no one else seemed to have noticed, including the group of women she’d been dancing with.

He took a deep breath. None of his business, right? He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw. He’d come in here to have a quiet drink, pick up a woman or have one pick him up and leave. Yeah, except that no one had ignited a shred of real interest until he’d seen her dance.

He closed his eyes briefly. It wasn’t his problem. They had security at places like this. Someone else was bound to notice, sooner or later. Besides, maybe that’s the way she rolled. He really didn’t want to get involved. He should just—

Fuck it.

Before he finished that last thought, he was already moving. He was across the bar to the other side of the dance floor before he could even think about what he was going to do once he got there.

“Get your hands off her,” he snarled.

Okay, that’d do for starters.

The guy gave him a brief look.

“Get lost. Lady’s with me,” he dismissed.

The lady in question was frowning. At him. Okay, it was possible he’d read the situation all wrong, but his instincts were better than that. They had to be, otherwise he’d have been long dead, probably several times over by now.

“That right?” Nash drawled. “That why you have her trapped? You prefer the captive audience approach to picking up chicks?”

The guy stood up in a rush. Christ, he couldn’t be that dumb, could he?

Scratch that. The stupid prick actually took a swing at him.

Nash tempered his reaction just in time. This was real life and the rules here were different. He had to make sure he remembered that.

Rather than the fatal blow he could have delivered ten different ways, Nash just slowed the guy down with a quick jab. And it felt way too good. The last guy who’d come at him had ended up on the floor as well, but at least this one was still breathing. And moaning.

Nash looked up as she shimmied out of the booth. Shimmied. Christ, what kind of word was that? He didn’t have a better one though as she eased sideways along the seat in the tiny skirt before standing up.

Her gaze was fixed on his and she still wore the frown. He expected her to be grateful, he expected to be thanked profusely for intervening and going out of his way to extract her from a questionable situation. Actually, for his effort, he was looking forward to it. He did not expect her to give him a long look he couldn’t interpret, walk over to dickwad prone on the floor and draw her foot back as if she was going to—

“Hey.”

Nash grabbed her around the waist just in time and swung her up off the floor.

The guy probably deserved it and more, but he just couldn’t watch her kick his balls up into his throat while he was out of it, without a qualm, without any hesitation. And with those sexy-ass boots.

He winced. Ouch. And why didn’t that do anything except turn him the fuck on? Big time.

He released her when she started to squirm and he became aware of things he probably shouldn’t with how hard he was holding her. And she’d probably just become aware of something hard he had little control over.

He gave a low whistle. She might be small, cute and blonde, but apparently she had a mean streak a mile wide. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Even with the boots, she still barely came to his chin. She threw her head back and glared at him. Again. “I can take care of myself.”

And she was spitting mad. At him?

He frowned. “Well fuck me. You’re welcome by the way.”

 

Lexi swallowed. Okay, that had her imagination running overtime. Her wild, out of control, under-sexed, dirty imagination. Jeez, the guy could move, she had to give him that. He had a way of shifting his body with an economy of movement that might give the impression of laid-back, but she knew better. He moved precisely and with purpose. And he was fast.

“I had everything under control,” she muttered.

“Yeah? Looked like you were taking care of it from where I was.”

She took in a deep breath. The oaf had taken her unawares, grabbing her like that, and her heart was still pounding a mile a minute. And she wasn’t talking about the oaf laid out on the floor.

“Do I look like a damsel in distress? I didn’t need to be rescued, so—”

“Like I said, that’s not what it looked like. In fact, I’d go so far as saying it looked like you needed some help.”

“You think this makes up for you being an asshole earlier?”

He probably expected she’d be all over him in gratitude. Yeah, as if that’d ever happen. She didn’t do simpering well, even if she wanted to.

He leaned down closer to her and frowned. He pointed to the figure rolling on to his side on the floor. “That guy had you trapped. You didn’t want to be there. I took care of it. Nothing more, nothing less. A polite thank-you would have been appreciated.”

Polite? Coming from him? That was rich.

“Out. Both of you.”

Lexi jerked at the deep voice behind her. “What?” she gasped.

The bouncer pointed toward the main entrance. “Out.”

Of all the—

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“Right now.”

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything.” She looked toward Mr. Hot Bod, who still hadn’t said anything. “Really. He—”

“I said out, Miss or I’ll physically remove you.”

Miss? Miss?

“You lay a hand on her and I’ll take your arm off.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. Macho guys. Probably couldn’t help themselves. It was in their DNA. The bouncer looked taken aback. Yeah, he probably wasn’t used to anyone getting up in his face like that. Not someone who could very well have been as big as he was and exuded a vibe that said he could deliver on any threat he threw out.

“I don’t want any trouble here, but all of you need to leave. Now.”

She looked around for her friends. No one was in sight. Well, didn’t this just suck?

“Now,” he repeated.

Shit.

“All right, all right,” she grumbled.

Lexi pushed through the crowd to the entrance. She’d been pretty much ready to leave anyway, but it would have been nice to let her friends know where she was. And to have been able to get her jacket from them as well. The fresh, crisp night air was a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the bar, but she shivered when she cleared the door.

Great. Just great.

“I’ve never been thrown out of anywhere before in my life,” she mumbled to herself.

“Yeah? You don’t strike me as the ‘sheltered upbringing’ type.”

Lexi’s heart skipped a beat as she turned. He was right behind her. Right. Behind. Her. So close she could feel the warmth radiating off him and the wash of his breath on the side of her neck.

And he was laughing. God, what a smile and a laugh did for him. He was laughing at her she reminded herself, enjoying himself at her expense. The pig. She huffed out a breath. He might be a pig, but he was a hot pig. Seriously, the guy was straight-up gorgeous when he wasn’t trying to be the meanest, rudest dude in the room.

“So, you got a name?” he asked when the door to the bar slammed closed.

So now he wanted to do the chit chat thing? She lifted her chin ever so slightly. “Alexis. My friends call me Lexi. You?” She raked him with a look she hoped came off as disparaging because that’s what she was going for. “You can call me Alexis.”

He laughed. Again with the beat-skipping thing. And the stomach-jolting thing. What the hell was that all about anyway?

“Well, looky here.”

The guy he’d just decked stumbled out of the bar. With two of his friends and if his scowl was anything to go on, he was seriously pissed.

Oh God, this is all I need.

“Don’t be an idiot, Tracey,” she said.

Mr. Hot Bod looked over at her. “You know this guy?”

“He wishes I knew him,” she muttered.

Tracey gave her his standard “I’m imagining your clothes off” glance that made her skin crawl. He’d been hitting on her since the ninth grade and she usually brushed him off as being too drunk, too stupid and very much too obnoxious to worry about. Not much rattled her, but the way they stalked over, totally ignoring her, sent a cold shaft of alarm through her.

To give him credit, Mr. Hot Bod stepped in front of her.

“Alexis, go back inside.”

It was nothing if not a command and she’d never done well with being told what to do.

“Yeah, there’s just a small problem with that,” she countered as the three of them approached him. “We got thrown out, remember?”

He glanced at her as he let his arms relax by his side. He flexed his fingers, balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, his body all at once ready, eyeing the three men. There was a sudden intensity that radiated from him.

“Go back inside. Where it’s safe.”

His focus was almost tangible, measuring each of the threats, tracking their movements as they closed in on him. The thing that struck her most was that he didn’t seem worried. Oh, his body was poised for action. She could tell that in the way he held himself, the way he watched their every movement, ready, waiting. But there was also an air of calm about him. God, he almost seemed as if he relaxed as they got closer.

Lexi gasped as two of them charged him at once without warning. She figured Tracey planned to get his own back while his buddies roughed up Mr. Hot Bod first. And she guessed that plan went out the window as soon as they got within range. She couldn’t really say what happened exactly except there was a blur of movement and the other two guys were suddenly on the ground.

Tracey pulled a knife then and she felt a frisson of real fear for the first time. He was a loud-mouthed bully, a hot-headed jerk, but the weapon surprised her. Of course, he’d been drinking and had been totally humiliated so… As he waved the knife back and forth, the steel glinting, probably hoping he looked intimidating and doing a damn good job of it, Mr. Hot Bod just smiled and motioned to him with his fingers.

Was he nuts?

He glanced her way just as she stepped back and stumbled, her heel slipping on the smooth surface of the curb. Tracey decided to use the distraction as an advantage and rushed him, but it did little good. Tracey’s body made a thick thud sound when he hit the pavement.

Three against one and it had been no contest at all. The guy knew how to fight—she had to give him that—although she wasn’t surprised. She’d known from the way he carried himself he probably had specialized combat training, but to see it like that up close and personal? Frightening, savage and somehow beautiful.

He flexed his hand and looked down at his knuckles. Yeah, Tracey probably had a hard head.

“That’s what I get for coming to a small hick town,” he muttered.

Lexi took a shaky breath. “San Antonio is hardly a small town by anyone’s standards, and bar fights are universal, aren’t they?”

His eyes narrowed on her. “I told you to go inside.”

“Yeah, about that. I don’t follow orders well. Genetic deficiency maybe.”

Plus, it hadn’t seemed right to leave him. Not after what he’d done. Or tried to.

“Um…” She looked down and her throat went dry. “You’re bleeding by the way.”

He glanced down at his leg. The knife had cut through his jeans high up on his inner thigh and done God knew what damage to his leg.

“You should get that looked at,” she added.

He shrugged.

“But you’re not going to.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

She frowned. “The blood soaked right through your jeans. It might need stitches.”

“It doesn’t.”

Jeez, this was all she needed. She would have liked nothing better than to leave him here freezing his ass off. But he’d stepped in to help her out when a lot of guys probably wouldn’t have even noticed anything was up. He’d protected her against a group of thugs, taken care of business matter-of-factly, even though she probably wasn’t in any real danger herself.

She sighed. The least she could do was make sure he was okay, that he got where he needed to go. She could dodge his ego if she had to, ignore his arrogance. It really was the least she could do. Right?

“Let me at least drive you somewhere.”

He looked as surprised as she felt at the words.

“I’m fine.”

“No. I’m driving you home. I don’t want it on my conscience if you bleed out here all over the sidewalk. It’d probably leave a stain and then I’d have to be reminded of it each time I came here.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You don’t listen worth a damn, do you?”

She tilted her chin toward him, not the least bit intimidated. So he was used to being obeyed, no questions asked? She snorted. It figured. “Same goes, hotshot.”