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“I haven’t watched a game for a while.”
“Don’t waste your time.” Ike smirked at her.
She smiled back, wishing she could find recordings of Ike to watch—fighting, on assignment, working out, talking with friends, eating … she’d watch any footage of him.
There was still a foot of space between them, but she rested her right hand on the bench. She itched to touch him. Half of her hoped he noticed and half of her was mortified that she was letting down her guard with him.
She should clasp her hands together in her lap. She didn’t move.
Ike’s blue eyes dropped to her hand and then focused on her face. Heat and longing filled her at the yearning in his gaze. Yearning for her? Yearning to hold her hand?
His gaze darted back to the field in front of them and then did a discreet check of the stands that were filling up more by the minute as word spread that Beau Alexander was here.
Had she conjured that yearning in her mind? Was she merely projecting her own longings? She’d never planned on her idol being right next to her. It was baffling, thrilling, and much too complicated.
The real man was a thousand times more enticing than the good-looking and accomplished op she’d secretly fantasized about for the past year.
Realizing she was staring at him, she turned and did her own checks around the stadium before focusing on the field. All was well. Beau was running a play and instructing the young quarterback.
Something brushed against her skin, just the side of his hand whispering against hers. She startled, her breath rushing out.
“You’re not supposed to flinch, remember?” he whispered huskily for only her to hear.
She bit her lip to hide a grin as her stomach flipflopped. He was teasing her. She teased with all the guys, but this felt different. More like flirting.
What to say back? She didn’t dare move, didn’t want to lose this connection to him, no matter how incidental. Their hands were hidden between their bodies, and to anyone else it wouldn’t even look like they were touching, but to her it felt monumental. She had rested her hand there, but she had no idea why the Ike Porter would initiate the contact. It wasn’t in the mission plan or anywhere in his usual mode of operation.
Could there be a world where Ike was interested in her? A world where two security experts had a successful relationship? She suspected finding the balance of love, protection, and fighting side by side would be difficult, as evidenced by their parting words outside her bedroom earlier. Ike wanted to respect her and treat her as an equal, but it was contrary to his nature not to protect a woman, especially if he was invested in that woman emotionally.
Ike wasn’t proposing they date seriously; he was barely touching the side of her hand. She was the one who’d rested her hand there. Even the slight pressure of Ike’s fingers and hand against hers made it difficult to think clearly or waste time worrying about why he’d initiated the contact.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Beau called from down below them on the field. How had he moved so quickly and why was everybody in the stadium staring at her? “We’re finishing up, but all the boys want to meet my hot girlfriend while I sign autographs.”
“Of course.” She smiled, stood, and walked toward the stairs that led down to the field.
“She is a baddie,” she heard one of the high school kids say.
“So hot.”
Another one whistled.
She glanced back at Ike. He stood, watching her go, his hands clenched into fists and all the muscles in his arms engaging.
“Hey, Beau,” a tall, thin boy called. “Who’s the buff dude who was sitting with your girlfriend?”
Myra paused on the stairs.
Beau laughed. “That’s my buddy Ike. He was watching out for my girl.” Beau winked at Ike as if they were close friends. “Ike’s an Army Ranger, so I wouldn’t go teasing him. He’s a great guy and a loyal friend, but he doesn’t understand humor. He might remove your middle fingers in a painful manner just for teasing him.”
Myra hid a laugh at that.
A few of the parents murmured in concern.
The kid shrank back against a larger lineman. “Sorry, man. Loads of respect for you being a Ranger.” He saluted Ike.
The other boys nodded respectfully.
Ike lifted a hand. “No worries. I only remove middle fingers from punk quarterbacks.” He winked at Beau, then looked back at the player. “If any of you call Myra ‘hot’ or dare to disrespect her in any way, I’ll actually remove your spleen. You don’t need your spleen, but it will be even more painful than losing your middle fingers.”
