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  “It’s not every day some idiot waves a knife at you and threatens your safety. You’re entitled to get upset about it.”

  “Maybe so. But I want to be able to do what you did. I want to know what to do if someone ever threatens me again.” She sucked in a breath. “You took him down so fast. I didn’t even see what you did.”

  “I’ll teach you a couple of moves.” He surprised himself with the declaration, especially when he had to be back in North Carolina soon for the hearing that would determine his fate in HOT. Just thinking of the hearing gave him a chill. He didn’t know for sure his career was over, but he had to force himself to consider the possibility. Better to be prepared for it than to be blindsided.

  Still, he’d manage to show Evie something before he went. He’d teach her a maneuver or two that would give her confidence, then insist she enroll in a self-defense course to learn more.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, when I get done with you, the Army will come calling.”

  “I’m a chef.”

  “So you’ll be a deadly one.”

  “Cool.” Her voice was smaller than he liked, but still strong. Evie had never let anything cow her for long.

  “You ready to come out of there?”

  After another moment, the water lessened to a trickle and then ceased. Matt reached for a towel and held it over the wall. When he felt a soft tug, he let go. He knew he should leave now and give her some privacy, but the truth was he didn’t want to go. He had a burning desire to see her clad in nothing but a towel.

  But that was territory he didn’t need to explore, he reminded himself. Earlier, he’d wanted to be with her simply because she made him feel oddly grounded and connected again, but now there was more to it. He wanted to see her naked, wanted to lose himself in her for a few hours, but he didn’t know what that kind of intimacy would do to her.

  Or to him.

  She appeared in the door, looking smaller and more vulnerable than when she’d walked in. Her wet hair was slicked to her head, and she’d scrubbed off her makeup. She looked like a little girl, like a woman who needed his strength and his protection. He hadn’t seen that look on her face in a long, long time.

  A stone settled in his gut. Not since the night he’d taken her virginity. He should have told her to go away, to forget it, but he hadn’t been in control of his impulses. Until that night, he’d done a good job of keeping her about twelve years old in his head. Oh, he’d gotten a jolt a few times when he’d looked at her and realized she’d grown out of her tomboy ways, but he’d always managed to put her back into the mental slot he kept her in.

  She looked up at him now, twisting the knife in his belly. The towel covered her from breasts to knees, but it wasn’t quite enough. There was definite movement in his groin. He turned his back on her, fetched a thick robe from its hook on the door, and handed it to her.

  “I’ll get some clothes for you,” he said, not having managed to complete that task yet. He left her standing there and went into the bedroom, welcoming the blast of cold air conditioning that hit him.

  He rummaged through the drawers, found a silk nightgown that was more night than gown. Damn Misty Lee. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Fuzzy pink handcuffs, a variety of lotions and edible panties in the bedside table, and now this. He fingered the lacy cups as the damn thing sent his imagination into hyperspace.

  And after the past few months of celibacy, his imagination didn’t need any help. He shook his head and dropped the gown.

  Yep, that’s what happened when your stepmama was a former stripper with a romantic soul. She stocked the place like a brothel. He’d have paid money to see his Great-Aunt Maybelle’s reaction the last time she visited. No wonder she’d insisted on staying up at the house this time.

  Matt dug out a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt from the duffle he’d left open on the stand. The bathroom door was open, so he walked in and set the clothes on the vanity bench.

  Evie stood at the mirror, trying to comb out a snarl. “Do you have any scissors?”

  He blinked. “You want to cut your hair?”

  “Just this,” she said, yanking.

  “Here.” He walked over, took the comb away, and tried to separate the knot with his fingers. “Just like getting a tangle around your reel. Can’t sacrifice all that fishing line for one knot, right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Patience was never my strong suit, remember?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you were fun to play with when we were kids, but I seem to remember the fishing never went all that well.”

  She frowned. “I don’t like standing around.”

  “Or being quiet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Matt.”

  “Hey, it’s true. You scared away a lot of fish.”

  The strands of her hair were damp and smelled like his shampoo. They coiled around his hand, slid through his fingers. He worked slowly, using the comb and his fingers to pry her hair from the knot’s grip. The minutes ticked by and the air seemed to thicken. He stared at the top of her head and wondered if it was just him who felt this tightening under his skin.

  She fiddled with the ends of the robe’s belt, tugging and scrunching. She seemed to be growing impatient—until she looked up and her gaze tangled with his.

  Wide violet eyes gazed up at him with raw heat. He felt the blow of that look down to his core. Not impatient then. Needy. A normal reaction to the stress of tonight, but considering how she’d brushed him off only a couple of hours ago, he suddenly felt as if her reaction was wrong somehow.

  Not that he didn’t want her. He did—hell, he’d thought of little else since he’d seen her in the salon today—but he couldn’t take her. Not now. Not like this. Then, it had been a challenge, a sort of goal he’d focused on because it made him feel normal.

  Now? Now she was confused and vulnerable, and taking advantage of her feelings was wrong. He wanted her to want him because she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them, not because Jimmy Thibodeaux had pulled a knife on her and she was feeling vulnerable and mixed up.

  He stared at her for a long minute, his body remembering how it felt to be inside a woman, responding to her against his wishes. She dropped the belt, her hand coming to rest lightly on his chest. Her hand trembled as she spread her fingers, and that single moment of vulnerability almost undid him.

  Her hand was warm as she smoothed it across his chest. He burned beneath her touch, ached to have her slip her fingers under the material of his shirt and caress his bare skin. All he had to do was let it happen.

  But his conscience had grown a whole damn lot in the last ten years. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  She looked confused. Her gaze focused on her hand, on the smoothing motions she made. It was torture. He continued working the strands of her hair, sliding them a few at a time from the knot. It’d been a long time since he’d gotten laid. A long damn time.

  “You said earlier—”

  “I know what I said.” Christ, this wasn’t working. He dropped her hair and grabbed her wrist to halt the torturous motion. “That was before.”

  She stared up at him with liquid eyes. Any second, he expected her lip to tremble.

  It didn’t.

  She took a deep breath and lightly pushed him away.

  “I’m sorry, then.” She turned her back to him.

  He felt like a jerk. An idiot. “It’s a common reaction to be attracted to someone who rescues you.” Great, now he sounded like a damn textbook. He didn’t want to push her away, but he wanted to do the right thing. Apparently, doing the right thing meant sounding starchy and proper.

  She choked on a laugh. Her eyes were bright. “Well hey, thanks for not taking advantage of me.” She grabbed the comb and worked the knot methodically, succeeding where before she’d failed. He couldn’t help but notice her hands shook.

  “I want to.” God, did he ever. The irony of the situation was
n’t lost on him. Once, she’d offered him her body and he’d practically tripped over his tongue saying yes. Now, however, he was trying to be noble. And aching in all the wrong places because of it. “But I can’t. It’s not professional.”

  The comb stilled as she looked up at him. “Professional? Why’s it suddenly about being professional? You’ve propositioned me at least twice tonight, and now you can’t because it would mean going against some code or something?” She dropped the comb on the vanity, dragging her fingers through the last of the snarl until it came free.

  When she tossed her hair over her shoulder, he thought he might drop to his knees and beg her to forget everything he’d just said. His mouth went dry as he imagined her on top, her beautiful hair hanging down in a curtain around him as she leaned forward to kiss him.

  Matt shook his head to clear it. He tried hard—damn hard—to remember little Evie Baker, twelve years old, being a pain in the ass. Or sixteen-year-old Evie, disappointed in him because he took what she offered and gave nothing back.

  But all he saw was this Evie—beautiful, needy, ready. He wanted to possess her. He had no right, especially since he couldn’t offer her anything beyond a few nights.

  There were plenty of women in Rochambeau, plenty who’d take him home and break the drought if sex was what he wanted. Plenty he could have a clear conscience about.

  “I didn’t say it made sense. But I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  Her eyes flashed and vulnerable Evie fell away. “You sure are making a lot of assumptions, Matthew Girard. What makes you think I wanted anything besides a kiss?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. And then he burst out laughing. It was definitely the wrong thing to do because she snatched up the comb and winged it at him. He caught it and tossed it onto the vanity.

  But he couldn’t let that pass. He couldn’t let her get away with being disingenuous.

  “You and I both know, chère, that if I’d done what you wanted, we’d be naked right this minute. Don’t act like you expected anything less when we both know it isn’t the truth.”

  “And don’t you pretend like it’s some blasted code making you change your mind either.” She slapped the clothes she’d picked up onto the bench again and crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t be very attracted to me right now either.”

  Matt was having trouble keeping up. Okay, so he was clueless. Totally in the dark here. “You think I’m not interested because you took too long in the shower?”

  “Oh my God.” Her cheeks were slashed with red. She waved a hand at him. “Forget it, Matt. Just go so I can get dressed.”

  It took him another minute of staring at her, watching her blush spread, before he got it.

  Aw damn, now he had to kiss her. And he didn’t know if he’d survive the experience.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “JESUS, EVIE.” MATT CLOSED THE distance between them. “I can’t believe you think I don’t want you because you fell apart a little. I’ve seen grown men lose their lunch, believe me. Hell, I’ve done it myself.”

  Embarrassment sizzled through Evie’s body. What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she even touched him in the first place?

  Because she’d been standing there while he worked the knot free, and she’d been enveloped in his scent and his presence. She’d felt so lost and alone in the shower when she’d started thinking about how helpless she’d been against Jimmy’s threats. If Matt hadn’t arrived, what might have happened to her? Would Jimmy have raped her? Cut her?

  But Matt had talked her out of the shower, and then he’d stood there and calmly worked on the knot in her hair while her heart pounded hard at his nearness. She’d had a sudden, powerful urge to lose herself in his arms and forget all about Jimmy Thibodeaux, David West, and her broken dreams—at least for a little while.

  So she’d put her hand on his chest. And she’d liked the feel of all that solid muscle, so she kept touching him. Considering what he’d said to her earlier, she hadn’t thought for one moment he would turn her down.

  But of course he had. She’d practically gotten sick on his shoes. What man wanted a woman so soon after he’d had to hold her hair and watch her retch? He’d been tough, disabling Jimmy and calmly dealing with the gun and the police, while she’d been a mess of nerves. She’d fallen apart in front of him. Mortifying.

  She looked up into eyes that were deadly serious. There wasn’t a hint of mockery in them. “You’ve gotten sick like that before? For no reason?”

  “It’s not for no reason, Evie.” One corner of his mouth crooked in a soft smile. “And yeah, I’ve gotten sick, though it’s been a while. You can’t be in my line of work and not see some serious shit. None of us are immune to it. We’re human. Now, come here.”

  He put his arms around her, cupped his palm to the back of her head, and pulled her in close. She closed her eyes and breathed in the clean scent of him. Willed back tears that surprised her with their sudden sting.

  She hadn’t broken down once, not when David ran off with the payroll—and much more than she’d known about that night—not when the bank called in her loans, not even when she sat stone-faced in that meeting of lawyers and listened to them carve up her dream.

  She sucked in a breath that trembled as she put her arms around Matt’s waist.

  After a long moment, he spoke. “Look at me.”

  She tilted her head up, meeting heated gray eyes. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  “You’re crazy if you think I don’t want to kiss you.”

  He cupped her cheeks in both hands. She closed her eyes as his head dipped, her breath shuddering in her chest as his mouth pressed gently against hers.

  It wasn’t passionate, this kiss; it wasn’t anything other than sweet and comforting. Yet something stirred inside her, that little tingle of excitement, of anticipation. She wanted more, so much more than she should. This was the man who’d started it all, who’d taken what she’d given him and thrown it back in her face as if it were nothing.

  And here she stood, ready to lose herself in him one more time. Because there’d always been more between them than just one night. Because they went back a long ways, and she’d loved him as a friend long before she’d ever fallen for him as a man.

  And though she wasn’t in love with him anymore, they were both adults now and she knew what she was asking for. Earlier, she’d thought she couldn’t handle it, that it would be too much—but now she wasn’t worried. This time she would take as much as she gave.

  Evie wrapped her arms around his waist and fitted herself closer to his body. He groaned then, his hands slipping down over the robe, bunching the fabric at the small of her back as if it were a lifeline and he couldn’t let go.

  She opened her mouth on a moan and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers while her body melted. She ached in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. It was thrilling to feel this way when she’d felt numb for so long. She ran her hands up the hard muscles of his chest and over his shoulders. He was so much stronger than he’d been at seventeen. Her blood hummed with electricity. Fireworks sparked in her belly, her sex.

  He pushed her gently away and disappointment crashed through her. “You’re making me crazy.” His voice was thrillingly low, sending shivers of anticipation along her spine. “But we can’t do this—”

  “I want to.” She really did. To hell with all the reasons she’d told herself she shouldn’t do this earlier. Julie had told her she needed to get laid, and maybe her cousin was right. The sparks between her and Matt were combustible—and it had been a long time since she’d felt any combustion with anyone.

  She could spend the night in Matt’s bed and walk away in the morning without a backward glance. And that was a mighty liberating thought.

  He closed his eyes on a groan. “I don’t get hostages out of bad places and then sleep with them. It’s unprofessional conduct and it’s unbecoming an officer in the United States Army. Tomorr
ow, maybe—”

  “God, Matt, just stop fighting it! This isn’t the Army and no one paid you to help me. I’m not somebody you’ve never set eyes on before today.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “This is me. Evie. I used to be your best friend, remember? We’re adults, we know what we want. You said it yourself.”

  His eyes searched hers. “But do you really? You didn’t seem so eager when we danced earlier. Or in your mama’s salon.”

  “I know. Maybe I was scared of you, scared of everything that happened before and how it made me feel. But I’m sure now. Because I’m not sixteen and I don’t feel anything for you now except lust.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Lust, huh? So now I’m a piece of meat?”

  “That’s right, Matt. You’re meat. I want a piece of you.”

  His laugh was strangled. “Jesus, Evie. I’m serious when I say I missed the hell out of you. I wish I’d realized it years ago.”

  Her heart did a little skip. “There’s no need to sweet-talk me, soldier. I’m already naked under this robe.”

  “You kill me.”

  “I’d rather do something else to you.”

  His grip on her arms was light. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to back away. She broke his hold easily enough, flowing into his arms. He didn’t protest as she took his face between her hands and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  At first, he didn’t react. She was ready to break the kiss when he suddenly squeezed her tight.

  “I give up,” he said hoarsely. “You win, Evie. You win.”

  And then he kissed her with the kind of heat that curled her toes.

  *

  Sarah huddled against the car door, as far from the man who stared at her as she could. She wrapped her arms around her body and tried to make herself smaller. He finished his latest cigarette and flicked it out the window. The air stank of sweat and stale smoke. She had no idea how anyone could stand it. Surely the smell was as bad in the front seat as the back, but no one seemed affected. These people were creepy.