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He’d been insistent he didn’t see her as a victim and that she was brave. She’d been brave to come in here and cajole him into spending time with her. What would the result be? Could she break down his barriers, or would he walk away or get interrupted? She kept seeing glimpses of care and desire in his gaze, but if he was interested in her, he was a master at schooling his feelings so he could ‘focus.’
His phone rang. He held it up and blew out a breath. “My assistant, Sheryl. She’ll be ready to cuss me out for something.”
Livvy dredged up a smile but wondered if Sheryl had also fallen for Jensen, but he hadn’t reciprocated the feeling. How many women had he dated? There was probably a trail of broken hearts in his past.
She turned to go.
“I’ll see you at lunch. We’ll tour my safe and shoot and practice self-defense after,” he said to her back.
Livvy glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t want to be a burden on him, but she’d take what she could get. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Livvy.” The words were said like a promise, and his gaze backed them up.
Livvy prayed he meant those words.
Chapter Fourteen
Livvy took a deep breath of fresh, crisp fall air mixed with decomposing leaves, dirt, pine needles, musk, and man. She and Jensen were behind his house. It couldn’t really be called a backyard as it was a natural landscape and the forest almost encroached on the house. She loved this view—wild and beautiful and so fitting for Jensen’s gorgeous home.
He had been true to his word, and after lunch they’d toured the walk-in safe built into his office wall. She’d been more than impressed with his array of military and civilian weapons—pistols, shotguns, fifty calibers, semi-automatic, and automatic machine guns. He could defend an entire city. Then he’d selected a couple pistols and some ammo and taken her out back, where he’d somehow had time before their arrival to set up some targets at a clearing in the trees with a natural hill backdrop. He’d probably had one of the officers do it. She doubted Lieutenant Yost would do anything that gave her and Jensen time together. At the same time, Lieutenant Yost would do anything for Jensen.
“You’ve shot before?” Jensen asked, standing too close for her heart’s ability to beat at a normal rate.
“Yes. But when Treven came to kidnap me, I was shell-shocked and night blind and the shot went wild.”
He nodded. “You did great. Until you have a lot of time with your weapon and chances to react in mockups and real-life situations, it’s hard to hit the target every time.”
“Are you a perfect shot every time, Chief?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up a pistol, glanced at the target, and shot. The bullet hit dead center. She hadn’t even seen him aim.
“No way,” she breathed out. “That was incredible.”
He grinned. “Impressed, Miss Moser?”
“Very, Chief Allendale.”
Their gazes held for a few beats. He looked away first, out at the forest as if hearing something or assessing danger.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, easing closer to him.
“Yes. Look.” From here, she could see his property fence through the trees. Just beyond it, a couple of deer bounded past. His sense of hearing was as impressive as his ability to shoot, kiss, and make her swoon with a single look.
He refocused on her. “The important thing is learning to be calm and steady.” He slipped the pistol into her hands and turned her to face the target, his hands warming her where they rested on her hips. “Okay, line up the sights.”
She lifted the gun, clinging to it. Her hands quivered, not because of nerves but because he’d touched her so gently and all she wanted was more of his touch, more of him.
Jensen came up behind her. His chest pressed against her back. She instinctively leaned into him. He was her strength and her protection. Both of his hands slowly slid along her arms and then around her hands. Each movement of his hands was tantalizing and distracted her from anything but him.
“Steady,” he whispered in her ear.
Livvy trembled. She glanced back at him; he was so close his lips brushed her cheek. “This is not helping me be steady.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve got you. You can focus on the target.”
“Focus,” she muttered. She usually was a great shot, but she was trembling from him touching her. She stared at the target, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The gun jarred her. She hit the bottom of the target, not inside any of the circles like she usually did. Dang.
“Not bad,” he said. “If that was Treven, you’d remove his belly button. Now take some deep breaths.” He breathed with her—in and out, in and out. All she could smell was his cologne and all she could feel was his warmth. She leaned back into him, and he gently surrounded her. Like a warm blanket on a cold night. Like the confidence ten thousand hours of practice gives a concert pianist stepping onto the world’s biggest stages.
