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Ah, that’s the crux, isn’t it?
He missed being in the military, and he missed his squad, but he especially missed being able to relate to someone else about the things he’d experienced. “I really, really can’t,” Jared told her. “Most of my work was classified, and retirement doesn’t change that.”
Kerstin’s nose wrinkled slightly. She didn’t like his answer, and he wasn’t exactly surprised. It was a typical response and part of the reason he was three years out of his second failed marriage. While each marriage ended for its own reason, a part of the issue both of his exes cited had been his secrecy.You just won’t let me in, Jared.Carolyn, wife number one, had told him that shortly after asking him to sign the divorce papers.I can’t get close to you, and I’m tired of trying.
“You’re a mysterious guy, aren’t you?” Kerstin asked, peering at him in a way that was almost unnerving. Like she was actually looking at him for the first time. It bordered on creepy. “I guess I’ll have to play detective.” Then she let out a delighted squeal. “That reminds me of a time—” She was back to talking about reality television.
Jared chuckled humorlessly and finished up his beer. While trying not to appear bored, he glanced around the room. A woman some twenty feet away sat at a table with a man and looked as miserable as he felt. He watched her for a few moments, reading the emotions as they dashed across her face—a polite smile followed by confusion followed by revulsion—and Jared could tell that she was trying and failing to pay attention to whatever her table companion was going on about. Her eyes scanned the room every so often, as if she were looking for something.
Jared didn’t quite understandwhyhe found her so fascinating. She wasn’t his type. Both of his ex-wives—and Kerstin across from him—were small and fragile-looking; they dressed to please and to be seen. This one was wearing an appropriately flimsy dress—as best he could tell while she remained seated—but she seemed uncomfortable in it. And as for her body, she looked, to quote his granddad, like she came from Irish peasant stock. Instead of delicate slimness, she had full, lush curves. She also had a riotous mess of curls in the place of sleek, well-maintained hair, and she wasn’t wearing makeup from what he could see.She has to be a teacher, he decided. She had that air about her. Almost unbidden, he found himself wondering if she was on a date; maybe she met this guy on some kind of hook-up app. He frowned into his beer. He didn’t like that thought at all.
Kerstin had to have noticed his lack of interest by now, but he couldn’t stop staring at the woman across the room. It was like she was the only real person here. Jared drained the rest of his glass. When the woman stood, he saw that her dress was short and swung as she walked towards the bathroom. It hugged her hips in a tantalizing way. “Sorry,” he said, cutting Kerstin off. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those wobbly ankles. “I’m getting another. Do you want one?”
His date seemed flummoxed for a moment, but then nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”
Jared inclined his head in a nod, and then he was headed in the direction that the mystery woman went. He hung around in what appeared to be a line for the bar that was right next to the bathroom door and checked his phone, pretending that he wasn’t waiting. Through the flimsy bathroom door, Jared could hear her grumbling and talking to herself, and he smiled. That kind of profanity was more at home in some of the mess halls he’d been in during his time with the SEALs. As the door flung open, and she spilled out, Jared pocketed his phone. He chuckled when she caught herself on the pinball machine. “I’m going to cut these shoes into tiny pieces and burn them when I get home,” she groused to herself.Oh, she’s feisty, he thought.I like that.
* * *
Rita stumbled back to the table; her head was still spinning. She looked around for the owner of that voice. His rumbling bass had gone straight to her core, and it reminded her just how long it had been since she’d had sex with someone else. The last two years of her marriage had been spent in the guest room with the lock thrown, and she had been in San Diego—sleeping alone every night—for more than a year.Too long, she thought.
Rita spotted the man at a table across the room. Blond hair shaved close to his head, cut muscles. She caught a glimpse of tattoos peeking out from his sleeve. Plus, he had that voice.Yummy, she decided.Positively yummy. A smile played at the corner of her mouth as she imagined what it would be like to see that wall of muscle up close and personal, without any clothes in the way. All hands and mouths. She snapped out of her little fantasy when the man’s eyes found her. As she watched, an infuriatingly smug smile spread across his face, like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
“Are you okay?” Ted asked. “You’re all flushed.”
Rita touched her face. Her cheek was hot to the touch. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “It’s just a little crowded in here. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Oh?” Ted looked disappointed. “Maybe we can head back to mine? Watch a movie?”
Rita briefly considered it—she could probably picture “the Voice” and have a decent enough time—but ultimately, she shook her head. “I’ve got to be at a jobsite early,” she said. “Rain check?”
Ted nodded, a perfect gentleman. They stood together, and when he leaned down, she offered up her cheek for a kiss. “I’ll call you,” Ted said.
Rita knew that she wouldn’t be answering, but she made a noncommittal response, and then she was heading out of the bar. She was definitely late for a date with her vibrator. As she walked across the parking lot, she spotted the Voice; he was helping his date into his truck. That deflated her. His date was tiny and perfect, dressed in a bodycon dress that Rita would never consider wearing.I’m not his type.
Rita reached her car and opened the door, determined to put the whole thing behind her, but when she looked up, she caught him staring at her. The power of his stare rolled across the parking lot, forceful enough to make her shiver. She found herself smiling slightly, and she dove into the safety of her car, narrowly missing giving herself a concussion on the doorframe. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the steering wheel. Slowly exhaling, she started the car. The intensity of the stare followed her all the way home.
2
“Iam so sorry!” Keanie said for the seventh time. “I should have left earlier. I forgot all about the highway construction.” Keanie had been in LA for a few days, visiting her mother, but she was supposed to be back today and had made plans to meet Rita for lunch and shopping. Plans that now seemed indefinitely delayed.
“It’s fine,” Rita assured her again. “We could always do lunch another day.”
“No!” her best friend whined. “I haven’t seen you indays!”
Rita laughed. “I live with you,” she reminded her. “I can see you at home.”
“Nope!” Keanie said cheerfully. “We’re having a girls’ day, just like we planned. I’ll be there in a bit, and we can do lunch.”
The insistence on not meeting at the apartment clued Rita in that Keanie was going to try to get her to “go out” later. This would mean drinking and encouraging her to “just hook up with someone already.” She would have to do her best to formulate an excuse to beg off. While Keanie could drink with the best of them,, Rita maxed out at one cocktail. On the few occasions that she had tried to keep up with her friend, she’d always regretted it the next day.Another downside to getting older,she thought miserably,the hangovers are so much worse.
Rita was already in the parking lot of the mall when Keanie called, so she decided to wander around the nearest department store to waste time until her friend could get there. After meandering around for a few minutes, Rita found herself in the men’s fragrance department. She picked up each sample and breathed it in, trying to remember exactly what the Voice had smelled like. She’d only experienced it for a moment, when he’d grabbed her elbow to steady her, but that spicy, heady smell had stayed with her the entire way home.
She wanted more of it. Not to wear, but to sprinkle a few well-placed drops here and there within her bedroom to add to the fantasy that she’d built in her head. She would bury her nose into that smell, picturing herself finding all of the sensitive spots on his neck, trailing kisses down his chest. Rita had imagined the power of worshipping his body; she’d also pictured what it would be like to give up that power and allow him to have his way with her.
Rita shook herself out of her thoughts.Not the place for getting hot and bothered.She sighed and picked up another fragrance. It was closer to what she wanted, but it still wasn’t quite right. There was a sudden heat at her back, and almost on instinct, she froze.
“I prefer Pour Homme.”
