RULES OF LOVE (A Navy SEALs Romance) (6 page)

The cameras he set up out front last night seemed to be working fine, so he set down his duffel and got to work on the ones in the back. As he finished with the last camera, his cell rang, and making sure he was alone, he answered. “Savage here.”

“Everything still calm at the front?” Reinhart asked on the other end, nervously.

“Yes, sir, just finishing up the last of the equipment.” Beau’s concern rose when a heavy sigh came through the line. “Is everything alright there, sir?”

“Quite. I’d say everything is running as… as smoothly as possible. I’ll be checking in later, Savage.” He clicked off, and Beau felt an annoying sensation that something else was going on that Reinhart didn’t want him to know about.

Just great… Now my own boss won’t tell me what the hell is going on,
he thought grimly, shoving his phone in his jeans’ pocket. Feeling someone watching him, he stared up at the house, spotting Naomi in her office window, smiling down at him. She appeared to be on the phone and turned away before he could wave.

Check that. Boss won’t tell me a damn thing, and I’m stuck protecting a woman who’s driving me to crazy town every time she opens her mouth and moves her hips. Get a grip, Savage, before you lose your head.

He continued to grumble as he picked up his duffel and slung it over his shoulder, heading down another path. He just couldn’t get Naomi out of his head since the first time he saw her… limping painfully on a cane. The image hit him like he’d been sucker-punched, and he wanted to know what she was like before the accident. And the way she tossed and turned in her sleep… When she’d cried out in her sleep the night before, he went to check on her to see her fighting demons in her sleep. He could’ve attributed the nightmares to the accident except for one thing: the jagged scars running up and down her arms and how she flinched and pulled away anytime he got too close. Minus his touching her knee, the scars brought up questions about the validity of the accident.

Besides all that, she was a stunning-though-cold beauty with muscular, naturally tanned arms and legs. Those eyes… He couldn’t forget about her penetrating green eyes that weakened him inside when they lit up, even though it was rare to see them with any warmth. Naomi was definitely a different woman, one he was determined to get to know, mission or not. He was pulled to her, and despite every instinct telling him to leave it be, that was the last thing on his mind.

Eddie peered through her office window, observing the back garden while keeping an eye on Beau. She grinned at him as the cell in her back pocket rang. Seeing the code, she walked away from the window and answered it. “What’s up, Chief?”

“Things are going smoothly, I take it?” Reinhart’s baritone voice asked on the other line, voice shakier than she’d heard it before.

“Yes, sir. Is there something going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Got another threat, worse than the others,” Reinhart said, words edged with anger. “How tight is security there?”

“Your boy won’t be able to pick his nose without us knowing, sir,” Eddie teased, glancing out the window again. “Between him, me, and the other agents, this place is definitely a safe house.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Sage. Keep me informed.”

“Sir? The safe house would be even safer if he knew the whole story.”

“Sage, what did I say? Bring this up again and I will pull you from the field.”

Her mouth dropped open, but she bit back the retort she wanted to hurl at him. “Fine, of course, sir,” she snapped and hung up before he could.
What the hell has him so on edge?

Taking one last look out the window, she was disappointed to see Beau gone from her sight. She turned on the stereo in the corner. With Ted and Shane at the house, she had time to follow a few leads while acting the part of a civilian.

Rock music blared noisily from the surround speakers, and she grabbed some files and set to work at her laptop, humming and swaying a bit to the music. She needed to catch up on some paperwork and decided this was the only chance she’d get to do it, while Beau was busy playing G.I. Joe. She didn’t think actually following him around would be a good idea, even though she enjoyed watching him work in his rugged jeans and tight t-shirt. Not that she wanted anything except to look at his very touchable body.

But then again, she was supposed to be watching him closely. There was no harm in doing just that without looking like a damn stalker. She opened the file that showed all screens of the surveillance cameras, spread out around the grounds by her and Shane, searching for him in the frames. It didn’t take too long to spot his tall figure walking swiftly down one of the side garden paths.

She leaned back in her chair, noting the serious set to his face and that predatory glimmer in his eyes. Eddie’s heart hammered away in her chest, imagining his hands on her knee again and maybe even other parts. Those strong hands, pressing in all the right places…

Eddie was just getting herself situated for an afternoon of taking her surveillance of Beau too seriously when a message at the bottom of the screen flashed. Clicking on it, a file came up with the title, “URGENT: CONTACT WHEN OPENED.”

This can’t be good. When the hell did this happen?
She opened it hesitantly. Her anger flared as she read the plain black letters staring boldly back at her:
We’re coming for him… Soon.

Eddie cursed quite loudly as she pulled out her cell and called Reinhart, making sure to hold the phone a good distance from her ear, just in case. The old man harbored a temper, but it was especially volatile when it came to his people. “How the hell could they know, Reinhart—I mean, sir?” she added hastily.

“It’s a mutual feeling, Sage. We don’t think they actually know anything. They’re just trying to scare us into doing something stupid.”

“Are you sure everyone’s been checked twice, sir?”

“I did it myself, Sage, but I can always check again. Keep an eye on him. I’ll be in touch.”

The phone clicked, and Eddie stared at the image of Beau moving around the back garden in perfect range of the cameras. She watched him maneuver his bag and set up what appeared to be his last camera before he walked towards the house. Before she left the office, she checked that her gun was tucked safely under her lower pant leg. Reinhart said no guns, but the game was changing and she was not going to be left behind.

Beau strode inside as the first, towering, black storm clouds appeared in the west, moving steadily towards the house. The wind picked up, blowing his hair across his eyes as he set his duffel down by the back door. Naomi wasn’t on the first floor, so he assumed she must be up in her office. He flipped on lamps as he walked towards the stairs. The house was dark because of the clouds rolling in to hide the sun. A light came from a door on the second floor, along with music, loud almost to the point of blowing the speakers. He peered around the doorframe and the sight stilled his body.

Naomi sat at her desk, her lips moving to the words of the song, typing while the rest of her moved with the rhythm of the music. She didn’t see him as she spun around in the chair and limped stiffly over to a file cabinet. When she spun around again, she noticed Beau leaning in the doorway with a smirk on his face, watching her every move intently. Her face reddened as she turned off the stereo and cleared her throat.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she muttered, running a hand through the hair falling onto her shoulders. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long at all,” he said with a wink and turned to leave.

She called out his name. When he turned, she glared at him fiercely, but a playful twitch of the lips said she wasn’t too mad about it. “Liar,” she accused, her voice like silk, making Beau want to hear it again. “Make you a deal—you come in here and tell me how long you were watching me embarrass myself, and I might give you the plate of ribs I saved from lunch with baked beans on the side.”

Out of a little microwave that sat on another table, she pulled a plate of BBQ, and Beau’s stomach grumbled, reminding him the last time he’d eaten was the night before.

She passed the plate back and forth in front of him, and when he grabbed for it, she pulled it back, teasing him. Beau took a step forward, and her smile fell for just a second. He pretended not to notice and shrugged.

“Long enough to know how well your hips would move doing other things,” he said huskily. He couldn’t get over the look on her face, though… Somewhere between wanting to laugh in his face and hitting him for his boldness.
“Fine, here’s your damn food. Now, go eat somewhere else so I won’t feel inclined to deck you.”

Beau took the plate and plopped down in a chair on the opposite side of the office. He dug into the food as Naomi glowered at him. With muttered curses, she sat back down and got to work. He watched her digging through files, typing who knew what on her computer, all the while trying to keep an eye on Beau.

After about twenty minutes of feeling his eyes studying her, she shut down her laptop and grabbed her cane. Beau followed close behind as they climbed slowly up to the third floor. Rain battered the windows, and the wind howled around the corners of the old manor house. Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a crack of thunder, shaking the foundations as they topped the last stair.

“Sounds pretty nasty out there,” Beau commented, frowning at the windows.

“As long as the roof doesn’t leak again, we’ll be fine.” She reached the doorway to Beau’s room and hit her cane on the floor. “Bloody hell,” she muttered as she leaned into the room with Beau right behind her.

Not only was there a puddle on the stone floor from the window leaking around the edges, but the ceiling was soaked through and appeared to be on the verge of bursting. As Naomi walked over to latch the window better, Beau’s eyes were trained on the ceiling as the wet spot steadily grew.

“You don’t think that’s going to—”

The ceiling gave way, and a torrent of water fell right in the middle of Beau’s bed. They both stared at it for a moment, watching as the plaster fell down from the ceiling. Their laughter was louder than the downpour on his bed. When the water had finally reduced to drips, Naomi shook her head, skirting around the bed back to the doorway.

“Looks like you’re out a bed.”

“I can bunk on the couch in the living room,” he shrugged. “Looked comfortable enough.”

“It’s not bad,” she said, but the way her hand gripped the cane caused him to tilt his head.

“I’ll still be close enough to you in case someone gets in,” he assured her.

She smiled tightly. “Course. Though, I’m not worried about that.” She hesitated, her chest rising with her deep breathing, and Beau’s eyes shot to her breasts, to the way they pressed against the fabric of her shirt. Then he cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away. “There is a pullout bed in my room.”

Beau froze.
No. Say no, damn it! That is too close for comfort. You cannot sleep in the same room as this woman and expect to keep your hands to yourself. And do you really think she wants you that damn close?

“It’s fine, really,” she rushed on, though her smile faltered around the edges. “You’ll need your sleep.”

“Then I guess I’ll say yes,” he said and immediately wanted to kick himself for it.

“Good. I’ll get you set you up for the night.”

“Don’t you want something to catch the drips?” Beau asked as he followed her into her room.

She shrugged. “That’s what the bed’s for. Take the cushions off that couch over by the windows. I’ll fetch you some blankets.”

Beau did as he was told, deciding that the storm had set a chill in the room. He stoked a fire in the black stone fireplace. “You know, I could fix that tomorrow. I’m supposed to be a handyman, right?” he called out to Naomi.
Anything to get him back in his room quicker. The tension between them was already growing so thick he could cut it.

“If you truly feel the need, be my guest, but it’s going to be a bitch trying to get to that roof to fix it properly,” she replied as she limped back into the room, her arms full of quilts which she laid on the pullout. She plopped herself down on the thick, brown, rustic rug before the fire, holding out her hands to its warmth.

Not sure why he did it, Beau sat down beside her, a distance between them. He could see the stiffening of her arm from his nearness. Did she really think he’d hurt her? He knew he was intimidating, but this was the first time a woman actually backed away from him. Usually, they were doing all they could to get into his arms.

Beau glanced at his watch. Go figure—as soon as he landed a moment to talk to Naomi, he had to do another security check. “I’ll be back. Have to check the perimeter.” He left her sitting on the rug in front of the fire, the light playing against the smooth curves of her face and highlighting the scars on her arms.

This was a bad idea and he knew it, but Beau couldn’t find the will to stop whatever they’d started.

Eddie watched him leave, breathing a little easier and getting aggravated that she felt uncomfortable at all. His hands weren’t the ones which had hurt her. She needed to get over all of that, and fast. She needed to have a good head on her shoulders. This whole mission was about protecting him. Any entanglement whatsoever with him was out of the question. She hadn’t wanted him to be in her room, so close to her, but having him on the first floor meant she wouldn’t be able to get to him if something happened. If she was forced to deal with him in her bedroom to ensure he stayed close by, then so be it. It was bad enough that Ted tailed him wherever he was. If he woke up to find her sleeping in the armchair, his suspicions would be aroused.