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The Casablanca reference made her grin. But then she couldn’t decide if it was stupid and awkward. Clearly she wasn’t cool enough for super-hot one-night stands.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she placed his phone, still open to her contact profile, in the center of the little dining table so he would see it.
And then all there was to do was leave.
Giving Jesse a last look, she wondered how long it would be until she saw him again. If she saw him again. Because there was probably a difference between what people said in the heat of the moment, and what they actually did in the bright light of day and the reality of life.
And even if there was no next time, Tara wouldn’t regret this. Ever since that cable had tried to separate her head from her shoulders, she’d realized that even the worst life could throw at you was better than not living at all.
Tara went for the door, wincing at how loudly the handle disengaged. Out in the hall, she did her best to make it close quietly, but as hotel doors were quite possibly one of the loudest things humankind had ever invented—which, when you really thought about it, made no freaking sense—there was only so much she could do.
She made for the elevator, the feeling that she was somewhere she didn’t belong growing with each step and then, after she pushed the call button, with each second that passed until the elevator doors rolled open. Standing dead center, she told herself not to look over her shoulder, but she did it anyway, her imagination alive with the memory of Jesse pinning her in the corner while whispering sexy promises that he’d definitely kept.
It only took her ten minutes until she was standing in her own apartment—that was how close they lived to one another. At least temporarily.
If it wasn’t for the delicious ache between her legs, she might’ve almost been able to believe the night hadn’t happened. Which was why she crawled into bed without getting a shower. She didn’t want to wash Jesse off her skin just yet. She wanted to wake up still smelling of him. Of them together.
Muttering at the stupidity of getting less than two hours of sleep the night before a new gig, she chugged a glass of water to flush the last of the alcohol from her system and set her alarm for six-fifteen. Then six-twenty. Then six-thirty, negotiating with herself that doing her wet hair in a braid would take less time than blow drying.
But then, of course, she couldn’t fall asleep.
Because all she could think of was the flirting and the sex and all the times she’d laughed. And the sex. Plus the orgasms. Which just led her right back to the sex.
And Jesse.
She put the pillow over her face and shouted into the stuffing. Which obviously didn’t help with the sleeping.
The last time she saw the clock, it was 5:25. Which meant her body was all kinds of unhappy when her alarm went off at 6:30.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she scrubbed her face with her hands.
It was moments like this that her twelve years in the navy came in handy. Her body was well trained to push through without sleep or food, even in high-stress situations. Of course, that was before the accident had left her with a newfound anxiety and a fear of her work environment that she was still trying to fully overcome.
Heaving a deep breath, Tara got her butt up and into the shower.
Not only was today the first day working with a new diving team, she’d be the only woman on that team—which wasn’t entirely unusual. But no way was she giving her fellow divers even one reason to think she wasn’t as qualified and skilled as they were, or that she wouldn’t have their six just like they’d have hers. Which meant she needed to get her head in the game and button her issues up tight.
Chapter 5
The headquarters of Commercial Marine Diving and Salvage wasn’t much to look at, but it was part of what was making DC feel more and more like a place Tara could call home.
She parked her RAV4 in front of the white warehouse located at the marina near the Washington Navy Yard. It’d been about four months since she’d last been to CMDS. In the Mid-Atlantic, the main diving season was March through October, depending on the weather. During the off months, she’d worked as a diving instructor down in Florida for eight weeks, racking out at the townhouse of a friend from the navy who was deployed.
Instructor work was pure fun and low stress, and it’d been the perfect respite before getting back in the water on what were sure to be some more challenging projects.
Tara grabbed her duffle and made for the door. It was a lot warmer already this morning, warm enough that the thin snow covering that remained was melting off—which was good because water temps were already going to be freaking cold as it was.
She was both excited and nervous to see some familiar faces. Last year, she’d moved to DC in February and landed her position with CMDS in June, so she’d only worked half the season. Most of the rest of the team had worked together for years, and it’d taken a while before she’d felt like she really fit in. Now, she knew them and they knew her, and she’d be with them from day one.
All of which made today feel like the true beginning of her new post-naval career. One where she’d have the same respect and camaraderie that she’d built in the navy with a dozen years of diving experience under her belt—or, rather, under her neoprene dry suit.
The inside of HQ wasn’t much more impressive than the outside. There was a small reception area with a few folding chairs, a coffee table covered in magazines, a coffee station, and, most importantly, Miss Delores sitting at the front desk.
“Tara Hunter, welcome back,” Miss Delores said. She was the owner’s wife, the firm’s receptionist, and their logistics specialist—whatever the team needed, she made sure they had it.
“Hi, Mama D,” Tara replied. The nickname still felt funny on her tongue, but it was what all the men on the team called her, and Tara thought the affection behind it was sweet. Not to mention, it was kinda accurate, too, because the older lady could both go Mama Bear when someone or something messed with the team, and she wasn’t shy about mothering them when someone was being difficult or stubborn or otherwise hadn’t squared their shit away.
And since Tara’s own mom had died right after high school, she’d liked Delores right away.
