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Son. I know how strong you are and I’m so proud of you. Don’t let your guard down now, his dad’s voice counseled in his head. He didn’t want to be strong right now; he wanted to hold Myra’s hand. He pushed the voice away.
Myra trailed her thumb along the back of his hand. The slight movement was intimate, beautiful, heart-stopping. He longed to return the favor but couldn’t get himself to move. Luckily, the road was reasonably straight and wide and he didn’t wreck the vehicle.
“Now you could bring our joined hands to your lips and kiss my knuckles,” she instructed, only a hint of teasing in her voice. It sounded more like … breathless anticipation, and again that bit of vulnerability or nervousness.
Ike jolted as the idea percolated. Bring their hands to his lips and kiss her knuckles? No way. He could never do something that cheesy, intimate, tempting. He shook his head.
Did Fitz and Charli have any idea what would be expected of him on this pretend boyfriend security op? He’d accepted the job without letting his mind wander to interacting with Myra for too long. He’d focused on the research of the Star Stabber and the information on Beau, which he already knew most of.
This kissing hands idea … It was too much. He couldn’t.
“I need to put in the address.” He yanked his hand free to push a button on the steering wheel and instructed, “Navigate me to Seven Strand Beach Drive, Dana Point.”
Clutching the steering wheel with both hands prevented him from reaching for her hand again. He couldn’t let himself glance at her, but he could still … feel her. Why did it feel like he’d upset her or let her down or something?
What a mess he was in. He pushed his hand through his hair and tried to think calmly and rationally, like he usually did with everything in his life. This was a mission. He had to detach himself and focus on Myra as his partner. Fitz and Charli had assigned them to work together. The dating part was fake.
They could work together. He could do this. When they got settled, acquainted with Beau and his security guys, familiar with Beau’s mansion and its security measures, he’d call Fitz and see what was expected of him. Ask his leader how to proceed. Be the soldier and accomplish the task he was assigned. He could be the soldier.
A few minutes of silence passed, and Ike relaxed a fraction. He itched to place his right hand, palm up, on the console again. It would be mission-related research to see what Myra would do with it, but he found he wasn’t ready to be the soldier yet. He kept his hand clenched around the steering wheel.
“We still have ten minutes to our destination,” she said in an alluring voice he hadn’t previously known the tough lady operative was capable of. “We probably should practice more?” She formed it like a question.
Ike didn’t answer. He should say no, yell no, grunt out no. He didn’t release his grip on the steering wheel or acknowledge her. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was in deep trouble right now. He’d never played this role as a soldier. The times he’d held hands, hugged, and kissed girls in high school, on leave, or when he was with Sadie had been relaxing and fun.
With Myra, it was different. Holding hands with her felt like an exhilarating sports adventure. Better than flying out of an airplane in a wingsuit. Better than fighting three men at once.
Holding hands. He rolled his eyes at himself. Pre-teens held hands. Did she think he was pathetic?
“I’m afraid if you flinch or pull away, Beau will know we aren’t together and he’ll be obnoxiously handsy when I have to pretend to date him in public.”
He didn’t like that her voice sounded so uncertain. He hated the thought of Beau being handsy with her. He wanted to complete the mission with flying colors, like he did every mission. That meant not flinching or pulling away from her touch. Could he do that? He’d had no idea what kind of a situation he was throwing himself into.
“You’re right,” he grunted out. A tough concession, but he had to try.
“Okay.” Her voice was shaky. Was this as hard on her as it was on him? Probably worse. She was a female in a male-dominated world. She was incredible at security and fighting and appeared to take everything in stride, teasing with the men to help them relax, but it had to be overwhelming or intimidating at times.
Ike didn’t want that slime Beau Alexander hitting on her.
He sensed her hand coming toward his shoulder. It was all he could do not to flinch.
Complete the mission. Protect Myra. Excel like he’d been trained to do from seven years old on up.
She rested her warm fingers and palm on his shoulder. Even through his shirt, the sensation, the impact, the warmth ... It dazed him.
He shook his head and took a steadying breath. He’d had a sports massage where the masseuse used too much peppermint oil and it hadn’t tingled this much.
He couldn’t react, couldn’t flinch, couldn’t pull away. If he drove off the road, it would be all on her lovely hand covering his shoulder.
“That’s better,” she said, her voice so husky and enticing it affected him almost as strongly as her touch.
He couldn’t even manage a thanks. Maybe he nodded. Mostly he focused on gripping the steering wheel, on driving straight, on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.
Unfortunately for his unstable state of mind, Myra wasn’t done. She ran her hand across his shoulder, along his upper back, and then up the back of his neck. Each movement was a slow, tantalizing stroke that took years off his life, or maybe gifted years to his life. He’d taken slashes with a knife that weren’t this impactful.
Ike’s breath came in fast, hard pants. Slow breaths in and out were impossible. His entire body was revved up and relaxed at the same time.
Myra threaded her fingertips into the hair at his nape and gently massaged his head and scalp. His nerve endings went insane, and yes, he flinched.
