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Eric stepped closer, transforming the open-aired space into something intimate. Their shoulders were practically touching as they both watched Nate play with the dog. Being this close to Eric, she could feel the tension she’d sensed while watching him. He was like a caged lion waiting to pounce. But just like the other night when she’d burst into his bedroom and dropped her towel, he held back.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
She shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans to keep from reaching out and touching his jean-clad leg or company T-shirt hugging tight to his muscular arms. His presence sent her common sense rushing into battle with the need burning through her body to touch him, feel him, kiss him. She wanted to peel away his clothes to reveal the rough and rugged man beneath. She wanted—
“You’re avoiding the party,” he added.
“I wanted to keep an eye on Nate without the crowd distracting me,” she said.
He turned and she felt him looking her over, head to toe. “I think you’re the distraction,” he murmured, his deep voice pushing hard against her resolve to keep her hands to herself. “I thought I told you to put a shirt on.”
Georgia glanced down at the loose tank top draped over her purple bikini. The neckline rested low across her breasts, revealing part of her bathing suit. The sides were open. A strong breeze could literally blow her shirt away. But that was the style. Cutouts were in. At least according to the magazine she’d picked up in the grocery store. After more than a year of wearing the same uniform day after day, she’d wanted clothes that made her feel young and feminine.
She shrugged. “It’s a cookout.”
“It is.” He shifted his gaze away from her shirt, looking to the clearing between his stone patio and the pond. “But if you wanted to hide, you could have chosen a better camouflage.”
“I’m not hiding. Just taking a break. Too many bodies in one place makes me nervous.”
Eric frowned and stepped back. One minute, he’d appeared ready to press her up against the tree. But now? Desire had given way to concern.
“I didn’t realize crowds were a problem,” he said.
Georgia shrugged. Sometimes she didn’t know herself until she walked into a situation what would happen. After living in a constant state of high alert, it was hard to shake the feeling that a threat was always there, waiting for the right moment to strike.
She stared at Nate and the retriever. “Crowds are unpredictable. That’s one of the first things they tell you when you step off the plane over there. They drill it into you. And now? Too many people in one place . . . it feels like an easy target.”
“You’re not a target, Georgia,” he said quietly. “Not anymore. You’re safe here.”
“I know.” Why was it so hard to escape the lingering fears now that she was home? She wanted to package these feelings up and ship them back to the war zone she’d left behind. It was time to move on. And it was up to her to make that happen.
Georgia turned, pressing her back against the tree. She could still see Nate playing and laughing with his new four-legged best friend, but her focus turned to Eric. Shifting against the tree, she allowed the rough bark to catch her shirt, drawing it up in the back. The front of her tank drifted down, revealing more of her breasts.
Eric followed the shirt’s movements, his blue eyes narrowing. He looked as if he were one step away from reaching for her with a wild growl. But he stepped back. Georgia caught his hand before he moved outside the tree’s shadow, lacing her fingers through his, holding tight.
“Are you here, checking up on me, as my boss or my friend?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand. “Your friend, Georgia. Nothing changes that, OK?”
Georgia nodded. “Good.”
The promise that she would not upset their friendship cut away at the barriers. Maybe, just maybe . . . Her hand, still entwined with his, gave a gentle tug. But Eric didn’t budge. It was as if his feet were locked in place by his strong moral code.
I’m your boss, your friend, and Liam’s friend. And Georgia, that’s where we need to draw the line.
His words from the other day echoed in her mind. But knowing he would always be her friend, part of her wanted to step across.
“Eric?” A man’s voice cut through the trees.
He released her.
“Hey, there you are.” Paul Smith, one of the local firefighters and a friend of hers from high school, approached. He walked through the trees, his sandals crunching the fallen leaves. Like the other guys who’d worked alongside Eric the past few days, Paul had taken the time to shower and change—in his case, into cargo shorts and a T-shirt—before driving over.
Eric nodded. “Checking in with Georgia. You need something?”
Paul raised his right hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Georgia’s gaze went straight to his right bicep, her eyes widening. When he flexed his arm—holy cow. Paul, the kid who’d been a shrimp in high school, now had the muscles of four men. She’d met some ripped men in the army, but Paul put them to shame. But while she could admire his physique, looking didn’t make her want to touch. Not like with Eric.
“Actually, I was going to ask you where I could find Georgia.” Paul turned to her. “Hey. Welcome home.”
