SEAL Of My Heart (3 page)

And then he knew she had niggling doubts. She wasn’t rushing through the doorway to that new life. Something was forcing her through it. He was fairly sure it wasn’t her heart.

There was no way he would touch that. It wasn’t a place he belonged. It was someone else’s story. He pulled his eyes from her face and settled the seat back, staring up at the ceiling.

“I must have said something wrong,” she said, her face once again cocked at an angle. She was watching his profile.

“Nope. Thought maybe I did,” he said, but he closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but the granite between his legs.

“I offended you, and I’m sorry.”

“Nah. Just not a place I’ve ever been to before.” He thought maybe he sounded too harsh, so he turned to face her. “Hard for me to relate, is all. Never even got close to that step.”

“I understand.”

Were his ears playing tricks on him?

“An important piece of advice?” she continued.

He shrugged.

“Don’t do it until you are sure, really sure.” She turned away and stared out the window.

He watched the way her hands twisted in her lap, the gentle slope of her shoulders as they rounded so she could take a private moment, facing the window. Her silky brown hair, with tendrils that curled at the back of her head where she’d brushed against the headrest. She was like a delicate flower he wished he could comfort. He had an intense desire to protect her from whatever she was headed for that clearly wasn’t good for her.

But that wasn’t his decision to make.

The stewardess was making rounds with coffee and water. Kate turned, and he could see her eyelashes were glistening wet. She ordered mineral water with lime. He ordered a beer.

The plastic glass with ice cubes and lime floating on top was passed to him, and he in turn passed it to her, their fingers touching slightly. As they brushed against each other she glanced at him and then refocused on the little drink.

Lifting it to her mouth, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of lime. He was turned on by the sheer bliss on her face. All he could think about was what it would feel like to kiss her like the man she deserved. Like the man he wished he were.

‡

S
he knew it
was barely an hour flight to Portland. When the cart came around for more drinks, he bought another beer and asked for another mineral water with lime for her without asking her first.

He made her feel, in spite of how brief their conversation had been, like he’d actually
seen
her in ways her fiancé, Randy, never had. Of course, he probably couldn’t miss her crunching the ice. Just as she thought of it, he stopped the attendant to ask for another plastic tumbler of ice without liquid, and presented it to her with a Cheshire cat grin followed by a wink.

“You’re too cute. My nerves that obvious?” she asked.

“As obvious as an RPG.” He must have seen her eyebrows lift. “Rocket Propelled Grenade,” he whispered, as if it was a closely guarded secret.

“So when I said something dangerous, I guess I should have put the adjective
very
in front of that?”

“Not today. And not most days.” He grinned at her. Nice, straight white teeth, those bright blue eyes that sucked her right into his psyche. She had the sudden need to be his best erotic fantasy.

And what’s up with that?
She never thought about sex when she was with Randy. From the very beginning he’d been almost awkward around her, seemingly afraid to kiss her. She’d found it kind of sweet. In time, he grew on her.

But compared to this man next to her—who was clearly a man and not a boy, even though Randy was five years older than she—her attraction was to the feral, pirate essence of Tyler and not to the sweet side of anyone. Dangerous and more than a little risky.

Her mind was going all sorts of places with this fantasy. It was a continuation of the excitement she felt every time she—what was that about, anyway? Every time she left Randy for a day trip, for anything longer than the time between breakfast and lunch or lunch and dinner? They were inseparable in Healdsburg. Every restaurant in town wanted their business, and they never had to pay for their meals either. Just having them seated at a prominent table up front was an endorsement that would pay off big time, even if the restaurant didn’t carry the family wines.

With this guy, she wanted a back room. Some place private, with oilcloth table covers and a waiter who would not interrupt them every thirty seconds to bring water or butter or ask them how their food tasted. Maybe she’d splurge on a margarita, or a jelly jar glass of Randy’s—

How stupid of me!

He’d been watching her, and she’d been smiling ever since he gave her the ice, even when he talked about the thing he was obviously most comfortable about. So she decided to use it to gain some surer footing.

“So you’re in the military, and you enjoy it,” she said and crunched down on some ice.

He nodded watching her mouth.

“You’re Special Forces, I’m thinking.”

He frowned but didn’t take his eyes off her mouth.
God, if he tried to kiss me, I’d let him. Just to find out what he tastes like.

She had to look away, because she’d become aware their faces were moving closer together. That was a very dangerous sign.

Down below, green patches of ground were dusted with clouds resembling puffs of smoke. Ordinary, regimented life was going on right under her. And she was having an out-of-body experience with a hunky guy she didn’t really know.

She heard him adjust his seat back and sigh. When she looked up, he’d closed his eyes and was perhaps slipping into a catnap.

Good idea.
She pushed the button on her seat, leaving the unfinished mineral water and ice on the tray in front of her, closed her eyes and tried to collect herself. Her head lolled to the side, and when she opened her eyes a crack, he was staring at her, at all the places he shouldn’t be staring. She watched him. Was he that starved for someone of the opposite sex? But he’d just come from San Diego. And he was deploying soon, he said. So surely there were girls after him in San Diego. Long-legged girls with long blonde hair, not brunettes from Santa Rosa who never got out in the sun.

It was reflex that made her lick her own lips and then open her eyes. She took in the full measure of his gaze. He wasn’t casual or matter of fact, though she suspected he spent most of the day practicing that persona. No, he was what she would have to call needy.

She fully understood it. Because she was the same.

Kate put her elbow against the back of the seat and propped her head to look at him. “So, you’re a soldier, and you’re going overseas.”

“Yup.”

“How long are you going to be in Portland?” She didn’t look at his eyes, but examined his veined hands, still resting his powerful thighs. He didn’t wear any rings, but had bands of barbed wire and Celtic inkings all over his forearms, plus some tattooed frog prints that extended from his wrist to his elbow.

“Five days,” he said.

Five days. Why was that important?
For starters, it was just enough time to get in trouble, and not enough time to get to know someone. But why was she even thinking that? Her life course was going in another direction, even though her body and perhaps part of her heart sensed there was someone else out there for her.

Could she do this? Marry Randy, when the sight of someone new stirred her so? Was that an indication perhaps of second thoughts, disguised as a sexual fantasy? Was it about being a bad girl, breaking out of her well-organized lifestyle, or the realization that she’d be chained to someone who might not bring her true happiness? Randy had worn her down. He hadn’t bowled her over. Would she grow tired of him the same way and then regret what she didn’t have the courage to do when she had the chance?

No, she wasn’t that kind of girl. She’d accepted Randy’s loyalty and love when she accepted his ring, when she accepted that although his kisses didn’t exactly curl her toes, there hadn’t been anyone else’s who did either. She’d told herself that probably those kinds of guys didn’t really exist. Had that been the true fantasy?

Probably not, since here was this guy who wouldn’t answer her questions, who smiled like he knew what she looked like naked, who watched her and understood things Randy hadn’t noticed in months of nonstop dating. Wondering these things was hardly the right attitude for someone on the verge of marriage. And it was hardly a reason to begin an affair she’d regret forever.

“Okay, now it’s your turn. How long are you going to be in Portland?” His serious look was followed by a quick smile.

“Three days. Just the long weekend. Have to get back to work on Tuesday.”

“And you do something dangerous?” he asked.

“Hardly…well, not unless you consider drunk tourists dangerous, anyway. I work in the sales room at my fiancé’s family winery.”

“Ah. Which winery?”

“Heller Estate Wines. You probably haven’t heard of them. Good wines, but a small facility.”

“I’m not much of a wine buff. I like beer.”

“Actually, they’re starting a brewery there, too. Big explosion of them all over Sonoma County.”

“Like Portland?”

She laughed at that one. “No. Not nearly as big, but we’re catching up. And we have better weather.”

“That’s for sure. I can remember more than a few rainy days growing up in Portland. Very depressing days,” he said as he searched the aisle in front of him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a restroom break while I can.”

“Good idea.” She didn’t have to ask, but he waited for her in the aisle, holding out his hand so she could grab it and haul herself out of the cramped seat. He walked behind her while they strolled to the center of the plane. She imagined he was checking her out. She noticed the looks other passengers gave her, thinking they were a couple. Part of her liked it.

One restroom was available. He motioned for her to go first. After she was alone in the little cubicle she examined her face. Was this the face of a woman who was going to cheat on her fiancé with someone she’d just met?

No.
She couldn’t do that. This was just a healthy animal attraction, nothing more. Perhaps she was reading way too much into it anyway. He probably wasn’t nearly as interested as she thought.

Kate made it back to her seat, buckled in and waited for him to return. Nearly twenty minutes went by before he made his way from the cockpit. She heard laughter coming from the crew up front. Tyler nodded to the attendants, who blushed at his attention. He whispered something to the pretty young blonde who had taken their drink order earlier, and she nodded.

She didn’t want to watch, but Kate couldn’t keep her eyes off him. His wild blue eyes and bright smile focused on her completely as he strode down the aisle like some kind of warrior prince, with that swagger that told her he could exaggerate it if he wanted to but was trying to do “low profile.” He couldn’t help it. He was drawing attention from everywhere, and all he was doing was being Tyler. Big, bulky, but all-muscle-and-sinew Tyler, with his hair hanging a little curly over his ears that had pinked up at the edges. Was he blushing a bit? About the attention?

“I went through training with the engineer. He washed out during the last phase of it.”

“What kind of training was that?” she asked.

“BUD/S. I heard it over the loudspeaker. How many MacConaghys are there who fly jets? I thought it was him, and I was right.”

He was still chuckling. The pretty attendant leaned in front of him, a little too close, Kate thought, extending her arm, practically putting her boob in Tyler’s face and handed Kate another glass of ice.

The blonde gave her a pert smile followed by a “here you go.” Tyler watched her hips and butt cheeks all the way back to the forward cabin, like every other male who was close enough to the aisle to observe her undulating progress.

Kate dove into the ice, tipping the plastic cup and spilling a couple of pieces onto her own chest which Tyler quickly glanced at and then returned his eyes to the front of the plane. His smirk, still facing forward, widened as she ground her back molars on the ice. After getting a thorough brain freeze, she was satisfied and set the cup down. She didn’t care what they said about chewing on ice. She was not sexually frustrated, and anyone who thought so had rocks in their head.

She looked at the romance novel sitting on the seat between them.

“Is she a good writer?” Kate asked him.

“Hard to judge. She loves writing them, though. A lot happier when she’s working.” He shook his head. “You don’t want to be around her when she’s not. And when she’s finishing a book. Those are two times I try to avoid.”

“Has she been doing it a long time?”

“Nearly ten years. Makes a solid income. She’s a single mother.”

“Ah, so she gets to live vicariously through the heroines in her books,” Kate added.

“Who knows? She says so. Her ex took off before she made it big. But then, he was a dumbass. Sorry.” Tyler lowered his eyes. “She’s better off on her own. Besides, she’s got designs on a couple of my buds from the Teams.”