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Future ops would be different. Fully prepped operators. Better intel. He was personally making sure the teams he’d once been a part of never landed in the middle of an op that fucked-up again.
But tonight, he wouldn’t think about any of that. There was only one thing he wanted to think about, and she was about five-seven, with dark hair and pale skin, and she stirred desire he’d feared might’ve been killed by the bullet that destroyed his shoulder.
Thoughts of her role in evaluating the permit came to mind, but he shoved them away. There was no reason she ever had to know his part of the proposal process. She didn’t even know the proposal was coming her way, so there was no way their chance meeting in the lodge could color her evaluation.
He sat on the bench swing on the private deck that overlooked the lake and took a sip of wine. Situated on the top floor and surrounded on three sides by the honeymoon suite, the deck was utterly private. The railing was a solid, short wall, so anyone on the lawn below looking up couldn’t see more than the top of his head unless he leaned on the wall.
Moonlight on the water gave the crisp evening a romantic feel. Or maybe it was his reaction to the woman currently in his shower.
The air had chilled after the sun went down, and now the wind kicked up. He considered moving inside, but then Audrey joined him on the deck, and he scooted over on the bench swing to make room for her, seeing the advantage of cold air requiring shared body heat to keep warm.
She settled beside him and took the glass of wine he offered. “Thanks.” She shivered as a gust of wind whipped across the deck. “I should grab a coat. The temperature has really dropped.”
He rose. “There are blankets in the armoire. I’ll grab one.” He returned a moment later with a wool Hudson’s Bay blanket. Scratchy, but he guessed she’d prefer the historic blanket over a modern fleece one.
She didn’t disappoint him. “I love these old blankets. I know they’re itchy and smell like mothballs, but that’s the texture and smell of history for me. It wasn’t always comfortable.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong—I like comfort along with hot showers, but I also like running my hands over a blanket that’s a hundred and ten years old and imagining all the people who’ve touched it before me. From the person who wove it to the person who bought it, to the children who needed it to keep the cold at bay in wintertime.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t use the blanket as an excuse to move closer to him, but it wasn’t like she was distancing herself either. “Do you think about the history of objects with everything?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. It’s a Lake Olympus Lodge thing. The lodge and outbuildings predate the park, and the blacksmith shop is the oldest structure within our nine hundred and twenty-two thousand, six hundred and fifty-one acres.”
He smiled. “You really can just say ‘nearly million.’ I won’t get confused. I promise.”
She grinned. “Or I could say, seventy-seven thousand, three hundred and forty-nine acres shy of a million.”
He shook his head. “That is somehow…not better.”
Her grin was cheeky now. “I could round up the last number to fifty, if that helps.”
He laughed. She smelled of soap and shampoo, and her hair was still damp. Her eyes were lit with humor, and he wanted to kiss her, just because she made him laugh. Feel good. Made him forget the pain in his shoulder and the fact that he’d never be deployed on an op again. All the things that weighed him down, she somehow lightened.
Right this moment, he felt more alive than he’d felt in months.
“So. You’re in security, but vague about your job,” she said. “Which makes me think federal government. I have a friend who works for a federal agency—we’ll call them Friendly Bears International—and he can’t tell anyone which agency he works for. Technically, I only know because he gave me a tour of his office in DC. So you know, Friendly Bears is totally cool with me keeping their secrets. You can blink twice if you’ve met my friend at the water cooler.”
He laughed. “I don’t work for Friendly Bears.”
“Ohhh. Then it must be the Cute Iguana Alliance. I’ve always wanted to meet a Cute Iguana! Are you a case officer, an analyst, or—ooh, are you with Special Activities Division? Blink sixteen times if you are SAD.”
He scooted closer to her and cupped her chin in one hand so she stared into his eyes. He then blinked five times in rapid succession and stopped.
“Five? What does that mean? We didn’t establish what five means.”
“It means I want to kiss you. Don’t blink if you want the same thing.”
He held her gaze, staring deeply into her pretty hazel eyes as if this were a contest. Her eyelids didn’t so much as twitch.
Heat radiated from his center—a rush of excitement he hadn’t felt in far too long. This attraction was mutual and getting hotter by the moment with the unbroken stare. Without looking away, he released her chin and took the glass of wine from her hand and set it on the wrought iron coffee table.
She leaned toward him as he cupped his other hand behind her head, cradling her damp hair in his palm as he pulled her even closer.
Still, she didn’t blink.
Finally, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. He watched as her eyes drifted closed, her lips soft and welcoming beneath his. He followed her lead, closing his eyes as he explored. He ran his lips over her chin and down her neck, to where her pulse thumped below her ear.
He kissed and lightly sucked on the sensitive skin, then moved lower to the hollow where collarbones met sternum. He raised his head, opening his eyes again. “You had a streak of dirt here”—he touched the spot he’d just kissed—“the whole time we were in the great room. I never knew dirt could be so sexy.”
She laughed softly, then gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. “Less talking. More kissing. I want to know if you taste as good as you look.” She pressed her mouth to his, slipping her tongue inside. She let out a soft mewl as his tongue stroked hers.
