Valentina stood outside the door of the guest room where Hal was staying and paced quickly back and forth across the thick Persian carpet. Several times she lifted her hand to knock, and then put it down again.

This thing between them bothered her and it had to be settled. It was not like Valentina to act like a petulant child, and she didn’t like herself for it.  If only she could make Hal understand how she felt, how crucial her independence was to her recovery. She had spent the last hour or so making an extensive list of all the ways she could sway him into her way of thinking.  She had done her share of watching Hal these last few days, just as she knew he had done the same. And even though he did his best to maintain a show of relaxed demeanor, Valentina knew all the waiting and watching must be killing an active, man-machine like Hal. He was so full of raw energy that it spilled out repeatedly without him even taking notice of it.  Try as he might to maintain that staunch, still, military bearing, there always seemed to be something moving on Hal: a constant shifting of his body, the light drumming of his fingers on the table, or a flex of his bicep. Valentina’s favorite tell of Hal’s though, was the muscle that leapt near his hardened jaw whenever he was holding himself back from being provoked into saying something to her. Valentina felt like fist pumping the air whenever she saw that tell-tale muscle of irritation leap in his cheek. But that winning feeling didn’t last long because aside from those non-verbal cues that showed his restless irritation, Hal was really good at staying the course. Valentina’s fervent hope and heartfelt prayer was that Hal would have gotten sick of her well-executed plan of making his life painfully monotonous. She fully expected that he would have given in or gotten out by now.

But nope.

Still here.

It seems that she had met her match. Because, although Valentina’s experience with tough guys was pretty extensive, she had never had to deal with a guy like Hal. The men in Valentina’s life all had a decidedly old-world charm. They liked to indulge and pamper the women in their lives, whether it be an elderly matriarch, a small child, a loving wife, or a difficult mistress. They all had a clannish sort of weakness for the female gender.

But Hal? Not so much.

He didn’t try to cajole or sweet talk or otherwise bribe Valentina out of her moods or stubbornness like her uncles or father would have. He simply waited it out. And if possible, he was even worse than she was in the stubborn department.

She hadn’t known if she was going to pee her pants or blow her lunch when he had sped like a bat out of hell down the highway this morning. Valentina had purposely dragged her nail file out of her purse to stop her hands from clawing their way over the seat and clutching at the steering wheel.

The insides of her cheek were still sore and raw from where she had bitten down to keep herself from calling out and begging Hal to slow the car down. By the end of the ride and by some miracle, Valentina had somehow managed to produce enough saliva in her cotton mouth to give him what she hoped sounded like a good dressing down. It had taken every ounce of courage Valentina had to keep the quiver out of her voice, but Big Blue had once been her mom’s car, and the thought of Hal damaging it in some adolescent stunt had filled her with anger.

Now, thinking back on how aggressive and retaliatory that act had been, Valentina suddenly lost her nerve and thought better of her little peace mission, especially this late at night. 

She had just spun on her heels to beat a hasty retreat when the door flew open. Valentina jumped a mile as the heavy paneled oak swung hard on its hinges. A deep growl came from the immense shadow that suddenly filled the doorway.

“You gonna stand out here pacing back and forth all night, or you gonna tell me what you want?”

“Why do you always have to do that?” Valentina’s heart was beating hard in her chest.

“Do what?”

“Really? I have to explain?”

Hal’s mouth lifted at the corner. “Yeah, really you do.”

“You obviously knew that I was out here pacing up and down like an idiot trying to gather my thoughts.” She sputtered out as a lump of humiliation joined in with the anger and her own sense of vulnerability. “You couldn’t have maybe opened the door in a … in a …” Valentina struggled for the words.

“In a …?”  Hal prompted her.

“You couldn’t have opened it in a gentler way?”

“I don’t do gentle.” Hal rumbled.

No, I don’t suppose you do, Valentina couldn’t help but think that the tee shirt and jeans he wore were as dark as his temperament. Even though the hour was late, Hal had come to the door fully dressed.  The only concession to comfort seemed to be that his feet were bare and the jeans he wore now were looser and sat lower on his hips than the ones he wore during the day.  The burn scars that roped around his neck and the length of his left arm stood out against the shadows. Beyond him on the night stand, Valentina could see parts of a large, lethal weapon set out on a cleaning cloth.  The distinctive, manly scent of gun oil, tobacco, and beer wafted to her through the open door. 

I don’t do gentle.

His words blasted through her mind and shook her body like a hand grenade.

“Tia?” He cocked his head at her.

“That’s not my name,” she managed in a thick voice.

“I know it’s not.” Hal scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “But Valentina’s a mouthful, ain’t it? Especially when I try not to use any words longer than three syllables.”

Did he just make a joke?  Valentina looked at him in astonishment.

To her further surprise, he punctuated the sentence with a full-on smile.

And what that smile did to his face—and to her heart— was amazing.  Valentina felt as if a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies rose up and took flight deep within her belly. 

“Do you want to—?” she began.

“Yes.” He interrupted her with an intensity that was startling. When Hal saw the alarmed look on Valentina’s face, he backpedaled slightly. “Look, what I meant to say is that unless I am dead wrong about you, you ain’t the kind of woman who’s gonna come to my room at this time of night on a fucking whim. So, I’m gonna take it as a sign that you’re as sick of this bullshit as I am, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Valentina nodded in relief because Hal totally got it. With a sigh of conciliation, she added, “It’s unusual for my dad to go outside the family for anything. Especially for something like this. It’s been a lot for me to process.”

“I get it. Never took you for the spoiled brat you’ve been acting like. You want to come in and hash it out?”

Never took you for the spoiled brat you been acting like? Valentina hesitated at the doorway as she felt a fresh surge of …what?  Irritation, frustration, embarrassment?

All the above.

“That didn’t come out the way I meant it,” Hal said in way of apology. Then, as if he sensed her inner struggle, Hal gently pulled Valentina inside the room. He stepped away from her and reached down into the cooler that sat by the side of the bed. “How about we start with a beer?”

Valentina looked at him in surprise even as her hand reached out for the bottle. Her eyes took a quick sweep around the room and found it transformed from a decidedly frilly guest room to something else entirely. Gone was the chintz duvet and matching shams. She guessed they had been relegated to the back of the deep closet and that Hal had brought his own bedding. Despite the late hour, the bed was made up tight with plain crisp white sheets and a forest green lightweight blanket, which was tucked in at the ends with hospital corners. The only indication that someone had laid on the bed was the small indentation in the pillow and a slight rumple to the blanket.

Next to the dismantled gun, the oiled cloth, and a cooler packed with ice and beer, sat a set of free weights. What looked like a very heavy-duty pull-up bar was wedged into the frame of the doorway leading out to the balcony; on the desk under that sat a laptop, an iPod and dock, two cell phones, and a large roll of cash. An enormous jar of protein powder, various bottles of vitamins, a few vials of prescription drugs, and a baggy full of marijuana filled the space on top of the dresser.

“Looks like you plan on being here awhile,” she said helplessly.

Hal leaned back against the wall, crossed his bare feet at the ankles, and relaxed his shoulders. His eyes never left her face, but gone was the predatory look she had come to expect. He seemed perfectly at ease and willing to wait her out.

“Before I say anything else,” she began hesitantly, “I want you to know that despite how I feel about what you are doing for my father, I appreciate what you did for me. I never thanked you for helping me … uh … for helping me … uh…”  She flushed with embarrassment while the words buzzed around her head like humming bees. She hated admitting to those episodes and to talk about them was unthinkable, but there was no getting around it. Valentina owed Hal a debt of gratitude, and it had taken her way too long to acknowledge it.

“Shit happens,” he said evenly.  As he watched the tension tighten her body into rigid form, Hal understood just how hard this conciliatory gesture was for Valentina to make.  He decided to cut out the bullshit and make it easier on her. 

“So, you got stuff you need to do tomorrow?”

“I do this bread thing ...” she began hesitantly.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I saw it on the calendar downstairs.” He shrugged.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind going with me?”  Her voice stronger now. “I don’t want to miss it and really it’s the only thing that Pauli wouldn’t let me do without him …” Valentina’s voice trailed off.

“Sure,” Hal blurted. “I’m in.”

“Really?” Valentina’s arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, Tia. Just. Like. That.” His eyes melted into hers. “Not everything between us has to be a battle, baby.”

 

 

Hal worked hard not to move.

Not a muscle.

It occurred to him then that Valentina might be as weary of the fight as he was, tired of being strong, tired of carrying the scars, and tired of the voices that reached out in the dark.

Her modest night shirt was buttoned up to within an inch of its life and hung primly past her knees. Hal had never seen anything sexier. It looked so soft and warm against her skin that he had an almost overwhelming urge to run his hands over it.

In it.

Under it.

Hal wanted to touch every part of her. He wanted to wrap his arms around Valentina and draw her into the safety and heat of his body; let her know that she had nothing to fear from him, that he wasn’t as hard as he seemed to be. The gun sitting on the bedside table looked at him with reproach. It seemed to jump off the table, jab him in the gut and say you’re not fooling anyone.

Because he was that hard.

That fearsome.

That unyielding.

But not with her, came Hal’s silent protest and fervent prayer. Never with her.

Through the haze of need and desire, Hal saw Valentina’s small hand raise toward him. Then with slow and careful movements, she laid her palm gently against his left arm. She kept it there, in the place where the burn scars twisted in angry, thick ropes and told his sad story.

“Does it still hurt?”

She was so close to him that he could smell her—a soft, clean, erotic womanly scent that tightened his balls and made his breath come out in shallow pants. He reached up, put his hand against hers, and curled his fingers around it. Suddenly filled with the fear that she would move, that she would take all that warmth and tenderness away from him, he grasped her fingers with brutal force. His body responded so intensely to hers, that she let out a quick, surprised gasp. Somewhere in the shadows of Hal’s mind came the warning that he could hurt Valentina without even trying. But along with that warning, came the driving need to keep her with him. Once he had her in his grasp, he couldn’t seem to get her close enough. His fingertips bit into the soft flesh of her arm as he forced her body up against his. Hal fought the strong urge to tie Valentina down, lock her in with him, and keep her. Forever.

He moved his hand to her neck, and with care Hal wrapped his fingers around Valentina’s throat then applied pressure to her carotid arteries by squeezing his biceps. Her pulse beat faster as he showed her the power of his control. When Valentina looked at him with wide eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, it made Hal want to feast on her.