Rumor(17)

He could have had her last night. Had that strong, slim body wound up in his. Could have felt every part of her. Touched and tasted his fill. Driven deep inside her. Been surrounded by her. Could have heard her whisper, moan, scream his name. His name.

She could have been his. Even if just for the night. Hell, just for the moment.

After feeling her in his arms, experiencing the passion she kept bottled up, he knew making love to her would blow his fucking mind. He craved the luxury of giving himself over to the desire, a desire that would turn into an all-consuming passion if he really let himself go.

The only thing he’d ever wanted as much as he wanted Grace now, was to become a SEAL.

And at the moment, he had neither.

Grace slipped into her piece-of-shit ’90s-something Honda and cranked the engine three times before it started.

He swore under his breath. She shouldn’t even be living in this neighborhood, let alone driving a car that could break down on her. She pulled away from the curb, and Josh let her get two blocks ahead before he followed.

His cell rang with a blocked number, and he answered through his car’s automated system. “Marx.”

“Did you find her?” Beck asked over a crackling connection.

Josh’s mind flashed with the memory of pushing her wet shirt up, skimming his hands up her tight, warm belly, taking her plump, soft breasts in his hands, and covering one rosy-tipped mound with his mouth. His eyes closed on an involuntary moan, and he cleared his throat to cover. His desire turned him inside out with lust…and clenched his stomach with guilt.

“Yes, I found her,” he said. “And she’s fine.”

“What’s going on with her? Why isn’t she calling me back?”

She’d never given him an answer about that. “She’s working,” he ad-libbed. “It’s Christmas. She’s just busy, dude. We didn’t get much time to talk. But you don’t have to worry about her. I’m checking everything out, making sure she’s square.”“Oh, great,” Beck exhaled in relief. “I know you haven’t had much time. It’s just that we’re headed out again, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to call. The targets weren’t where they were supposed to be. Lousy fucking CIA intelligence.”

Josh pictured the team wandering around in the background, collecting equipment, checking gear. Knew there would be an intense silence over the camp as they all focused on the mission. A sustained adrenaline level almost tangible in the air. Hell, he missed that. And a hot streak of envy only added to the mess in Josh’s chest.

He followed Grace through town at a safe distance. She was headed toward Balboa Park, away from the high school where she taught the cheerleading squad, away from the club.

“What about the strip club?” Beck asked.

Fuck. Josh stopped at a red light with Grace four cars in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut. He just couldn’t break this kind of news to Beck over the phone. Besides, Josh was realizing it wasn’t any of Beck’s damn business—any more than it was Josh’s. But…shit. This nagging sense of loyalty felt like a goddamned trick monkey on his back.

“She’s not stripping,” he said. “I don’t know what that guy thought he saw. I’m telling you he had to be plastered off his ass, or maybe he was just trying to rile you—”

“Thank God. I didn’t know what I was going to do if she was working at a strip joint.”

“I hate to keep pointing this out to you, buddy,” Josh said, growing annoyed. “But it’s not your call anymore.”

“So, is she seeing anyone?”

“Are you listening to me?” Josh lifted both hands off the steering wheel in a what-the-fuck gesture. This was that dense part of Beck that made Josh crazy. “What the hell difference does that make?”

“Relax. I’m just asking.”

The line of cars started moving again, but an odd and deepening nagging sensation played at the base of his neck. Josh suddenly realized he didn’t know if she was seeing anyone. He’d assumed she wasn’t because of what happened between them, but… The possibility that she had a guy in the wings was an uncomfortable thought.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully, more to himself than to Beck. “I don’t think so.”

“How does she look?” Beck asked.

Josh’s temper flared again. “What the fuck? What’s going on with you? How could that possibly matter?”

“Are you PMSing?” Beck laughed. “I just haven’t seen her in forever, and she stopped sending me pictures—”