He tilted up her chin with one hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “If you’re ever near San Diego, you should let me know. I’ll take you to dinner.”
Her cheek burned where his lips had touched. Considering how hot of a kisser he was, that had been like a small spark that had popped free from a forest fire. Far too tame, and far less than she wanted.
Since they were in public, maybe it was best.
Was she the only one dying to pick up where they left off? After all, they’d never gotten to round two, and honestly, she’d thought they’d have a couple of days on the island or she would have never closed her eyes in favor of getting as much time with him as she could possibly cram into one night.
But being able to say what she wanted last night was a far cry from doing it now in the lobby of a hotel when they had no reason to be together any longer.
“Sure,” she said with a bright smile that shouldn’t have fooled him. But seemed to. “Oh, I need your address anyway. So I can mail you a picture.”
The mention of it put a ripple of discomfort between them that she hated. Why? Was he second-guessing the idea of posing for her and just wished it would all go away?
“Give me your phone.”
She handed it to him and watched as he punched in a contact entry. And then there was nothing left to say. He hugged her and blew out of her life because she couldn’t open her mouth and tell him what she wanted. Not because she didn’t think she could say it. But because she didn’t think he wanted to hear it.
The vacation that hadn’t been anything close to a vacation was finally over.
Fitz prowled through his apartment, but he couldn’t find a thing to capture his interest. When he wasn’t deployed, he generally didn’t do downtime. No point in sitting around when he could be jogging, eating, sleeping, catching up on Game of Thrones.
None of that cured the restless feeling in his blood—he’d tried.
The middle-of-the-night call to get his ass to Iraq was imminent. Like clockwork, his team would be dropped into the middle of a conflict that needed the best recon available, and he was it.
Except his gut was still busted. Obviously. He’d been sure that he and Lilah had been working toward something… and then it had all fallen apart the moment they’d hit civilization. His fault.
Hence the restlessness that he couldn’t squelch.
That last conversation with Lilah in the hotel… painful. All he’d wanted to do was take her in his arms and find a place to be with her away from everyone. For a second, he’d thought she’d been feeling it too. But that wasn’t the deal. Had never been the deal. Not only that—he wasn’t looking for a deal. He had a job to do, and getting distracted by a bunch of emotions wasn’t kosher.
Besides, it was for the best that his gut had been wrong. He had nothing to offer a woman, especially not one like Lilah, who deserved better than a guy who spent more time in covert conditions than stateside.
But oh dear God, when would he stop thinking about her?
Maybe a book would provide enough of a distraction. He read the first paragraph of the newest Jack Reacher four times before he made himself give up. Best save that for his next transatlantic flight anyway.
Jogging, for the win then. If nothing else, he could do something beneficial for his body. Getting out of his head for a few minutes sounded pretty good too.
He threw on some Nikes and opened his apartment door. Lilah stood on the other side, fist raised to knock.
Lilah. On his doorstep. In Coronado. Totally had not seen that coming. His instincts were horribly off. What the hell? How was he supposed to protect his team if he was this out of whack?
“Um, hey,” she said, her eyes big and dark and gorgeous as her arm dropped to her side.
Geez. She looked fantastic. Which would sound a whole lot better out loud than it did zipping around inside him. “What are you doing here?”
God, who was this moron wearing his skin? But before he could collect himself enough to tell her that he really was happy to see her, please come in, holy crap do you look hot in that dress, or all of the above, she smiled.
“I’m delivering your photograph in person.”
She held out a flat brown paper package, and he took it before fully registering what she meant. Okay. This would be a good time to get behind closed doors if she was passing out pornography starring him in full view of his neighbors.
Stepping aside, he jerked his head toward the living room, the package crackling under his suddenly tight fingers. “Can you come in for a minute? Or is this a drive-by delivery?”
Which would be really weird considering he recalled that she’d mentioned she lived in New Orleans in the same building as Thora. Even weirder? She was here. Not in New Orleans.