The Flyboy's Temptation (17 page)

At the mention of their sexual chemistry, she inhaled a sharp breath and he secretly enjoyed that he had that effect on her. Sucked to be the only one with a dog in the fight.

But even as she was trying to bail on him, her fingers were impatiently plucking at his buttons and he didn't mind. Especially when her hot little hand circled around his cock, squeezing him tight.

“We shouldn't...” she tried saying as he hoisted her on his lap, holding her against the wall.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he agreed, but all he could focus on was that sweet spot between her thighs and how much he wanted to pin her to the wall with his cock.

He shoved himself deep inside her and she shuddered as she clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly around him.

“Oh, God, J.T.,” she moaned loudly, impaled on his length. He held her firmly as he thrust against her, loving the sound of her gasps and tiny cries of pleasure.

There was something so primal about taking her like this that he had little control over how quickly his body began to prime for his release.

With an animalistic grunt he poured into her, losing himself as he came. He dimly heard her cry out his name as she climaxed, too.

For a long moment he remained buried inside her and she clung to him, anchoring him in place. Their breathing harsh, their heartbeats one.

Slowly, he let her down and she fell to the bed while he tucked himself away and buttoned his jeans. Her hair was tousled and she looked deliciously screwed, and he had to remind himself to start thinking straight—with his head, not his dick.

She'd been giving him the boot.

He sat beside her with a sigh and she struggled to sit up, modestly fixing her dress with a chagrined smile.

“That seems to happen a lot between us,” she said with half a laugh.

True enough. But intense heat notwithstanding, he knew she was right. They didn't have a future together and he should've been relieved that she'd come to that realization on her own. So why was he suffering with the very real sensation of being rejected?

“What's really the deal?” he asked point-blank.

“What do you mean?”

“C'mon, we both know that something else is eating at you—just come out and say it. Don't you think we've been through enough to at least be honest with each other?”

“I am trying to be honest,” she insisted with a distressed frown. “Don't you see that it's better this way?”

“Sure, on the surface I would agree with you. But have you forgotten that you're not exactly safe just yet? If you think I risked my ass to save yours just to have you get killed Stateside, you're crazy.”

Hope stiffened. “I can take care of myself.”

“That didn't come out right. What I mean is, I don't want anything to happen to you and I'm not saying we have to put labels on things, but I care about you and I'm not about to let anything happen to you.”

The fire went out of Hope's eyes and she actually risked a small smile. “I know you care about me,” she said, her tone warming. “I care about you, too. I'm trying to lessen the hurt when whatever this is...ends.”

“Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, I say we find the son of a bitch who was truly behind all this so we can safely put this situation to bed without worrying that someone is still out there looking to kidnap or kill you, because you know those are the only options.”

Hope, aghast, said, “And why are those the only options?”

“Because if you're not working for them, you're working against them and that's a risk they won't take.”

She couldn't argue with his logic and nodded. “I guess you're right. I'm still in shock that any of this happened. Three weeks ago I was consumed with the biggest scientific breakthrough of the century... Now I'm looking behind my back for killers and sociopaths.”

“Have you considered going into a less dangerous line of work? I've heard there's an opening on the bomb squad,” he offered, only half joking.

“Ha-ha.”

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't quite resist. Pulling her into his arms, he ignored her halfhearted protest and kissed her long and deep. She melted against him, fitting against his body as if they were molded for each another, but she soon pulled away and stood when a horn sounded outside.

“That's my cab. I have to go.”

“Wait... Come back with us,” he suggested, not ready to watch her leave.

“I can't. I have to get back to work if I'm going to pull this off. There's no reason I would return with you and my supervisor would question it.”

“Is that the only reason you're returning on Tessara's dime?”

She didn't answer. “I'll connect with you back in California. Thank you, J.T. For everything.”

He didn't want her thanks—he wanted her.

22

T
HE
FLIGHT
HOME
was uneventful. With J.T. broody and in a foul mood, the guys gave him a wide berth until they landed and were unloading the plane.

He knew he needed to snap out of it. His buddies had done something so selfless for him that words couldn't convey how appreciative he truly was, and he hoped they knew that, in spite of his surly attitude.

The best part about that group was that words weren't needed.

Kirk slapped J.T. on the back with a grin. “She's hot.”

“No argument there,” he said, not bothering to hide anything.

Kirk, Ty and Harris filed into the house while Teagan hung back.

“You all right, man?”

“Worn-out,” J.T. answered, which was the truth, but it wasn't only physical fatigue pulling at him. The entire ride home all he could think of was how easily Hope had been able to walk away. It sucked to be the one being left. Usually he was the one making tracks, not the other way around. “Thanks for saving my ass. Again.”

“What are brothers for?”

“Yeah, but something tells me most guys don't have to fly to other countries to bail out their brothers.”

“True. I might look forward to a phone call where you're just asking to borrow money.” He playfully punched J.T. in the arm. “Seriously, though, what the hell happened?”

“As soon as I figure it out, you'll be the first to know.”

“I hope she's worth it.”

“It's not like we're dating or anything. I'll get over it.”

Teagan saw through his bluff. “You can tell yourself whatever you want, but the truth is...you have feelings for her. You wouldn't have done all this for just some client.”

“A client working for a company with deep pockets,” he reminded his brother. “You'll thank me later when that check arrives.”

“Speaking of, we need to talk about Blue Yonder,” Teagan said, then added with a wave, “Later.”

Yeah, funny thing, now that they would have the money to keep the charter going, he didn't care.

He'd been hell-bent to keep the charter going only a week ago. Now? He could see how the charter was foundering. He'd selfishly wanted to hold on to it when his brother had been trying to tell him it was time to cut their losses.

Maybe he didn't need Blue Yonder any longer.

Blue Yonder had been Teagan's solution to J.T.'s unraveling after his time in the service. He'd been through the ringer during his last tour.

The memories had nearly eaten him alive.

Blue Yonder had given him something else to pour his focus into.

The charter's failure hadn't been something he could handle.

Now he saw it for what it was—a money pit.

And his brother would stick with him no matter what, even if he went down in flames trying to save it because that was what J.T. wanted.

Why hadn't he seen what an ass he was being?

It still stung to think of letting Blue Yonder go, but after everything that'd happened, it didn't seem as important to hold on to it.

He was tired as hell, but he needed to think, and he wouldn't be able to do that with Kirk and the rest of the guys at the house. They were good guys—but loud. When Harris started in on the whiskey, no one would be sleeping tonight.

Climbing into his truck, he realized the one place he wanted to go was the one place he wasn't invited.

Not to mention he hadn't a clue where Hope lived.

Suddenly, his cell phone chirped and he saw a text message from Teagan.

From Ty: 3212 Sutton Avenue, apt. 27. You're welcome.

He grinned. “Bless your hacking little soul,” he murmured, returning his cell to his pocket. There were benefits to having friends who were smarter with computers than you were.

But even though he had her address and the urge to follow up was stronger than he wanted to admit...he held back.

What was he? Some kind of stalker? How would he feel if some woman he'd cut ties with suddenly showed up on his doorstep?

It would be uncomfortable as hell.

So there was his answer.

Don't go there.

At least not tonight.

Give it some time to breathe.

Maybe he'd feel different in a few days' time.

Hell, maybe whatever this was—this heart-pounding, desperate need to feel her in his arms—would fade and he could go back to feeling normal again.

Yeah. Maybe.

Or maybe it would get worse.

In the meantime, his affliction was nothing that a strong whiskey couldn't fix.

Sweet oblivion, here I come.

* * *

H
OPE
SLID
INTO
the bath, sighing as the hot water soothed her troubled heart.

Leaving J.T. had been the most difficult thing she'd had to do, but she wasn't about to encourage something that she knew had no future.

J.T. was a player, a man who liked to live a cavalier life. She was excruciatingly type A, a woman who liked to have all details planned out before she embarked on a task or project.

And that included the relationships in her life.

Although nothing had gone to plan from the moment she'd stepped onto Blue Yonder's stretch of tarmac.

Everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, but J.T. had managed to navigate every obstacle with a grace that was almost superhuman.

They didn't make many men like J.T. and his band of brothers anymore.

And the way that man could make her shudder and moan with a touch... Ugh. How was she ever going to forget that heat?

No man would ever measure up to J. T. Carmichael in the sex department. The man had been...extremely talented.

She should've given J.T. her address. But then he would've shown up and where would that have taken them?

Her heart rate leaped at the idea of seeing J.T. at her door.

Wishful imaginings were harmful in the long run, she chastised herself when she lingered a little too long on that fantasy.

Nothing had changed. They were still incompatible in the big scheme of things and that wasn't likely to change. She wasn't about to embark on an ill-fated relationship that was doomed from the start.

She'd have to be a complete idiot to do that.

Hope was alive thanks to J.T.—she couldn't forget that part.

Had she hurt him by walking away? Hope liked to think that she hadn't crushed him, but in her heart, she knew she'd caused terrible pain.

How did she know that? Because she'd felt it, too.

Each step away from the hotel had been agony. Climbing into the cab as if nothing had happened was like swallowing razors.

And each night since, she'd been tormented by dreams that'd left her aching and reaching for someone who wasn't there.

Her bed had never been so lonely until now. There was definitely a J.T.-sized deficit in her life right now and she alternated between being irritated at her weepiness and intensely depressed over how weepy she was.

Tomorrow she had a meeting with Deirdre to discuss the details as she knew them—edited, of course—about the South American incident. It was a formality, but a necessary one to satisfy the authorities and clear Tessara of any responsibility.

The report was also necessary for the insurance company to release funds for the damages done to the lab and any payout to the families that might be required.

It was all very tidy.

That should've appealed to her.

The fact that there were very few loose ends to tie up should've made her sigh with relief, but instead she was troubled by how neat it was.

Shouldn't there be more paperwork? More questions?

Just like when Tanya was killed.

Business as usual. Life goes on.

But Tanya had been more than her supervisor; she'd been her friend.

“There's a rumor out there that there's more to life than science,” Tanya had teased over Chinese food in the break room late one night. “I'm thinking of signing up for one of those online dating sites and testing out that theory.”

“You could end up with a serial killer.”

“That fear is so 1990s. Everyone knows that the professional sect doesn't have time to socialize in the traditional ways, so places like eSoulmate.com fill the gap. I like that it separates people into two categories, those most likely to be looking for a fun, but ultimately short-lived relationship and those who are marriage material.”

“Oh?” Hope raised an eyebrow as she slurped down her chow mein. “So what exactly are you looking for? A hot sweaty time or matrimony?”

“Well, to run the risk of sounding like a pathetic sap, I'd love to find someone who I can get hot and sweaty with and still end up with a ring on my finger. Maybe a hot physicist or something.”

“Are physicists hot?” Hope asked dubiously. “Have you seen the physicists walking the halls at Tessara? Definitely not hot.”

“True. But I find intelligence very sexy. However, I also find burly men in kilts sexy. Do you think I can find those attributes in one man?”

Hope laughed. “Good luck. Can you imagine Wesley in a kilt?”

“Wesley Gibson? God, no. Nobody wants to see that.”

“There's your answer. I think you have to take one over the other.”

“In that case, I'll take a torrid affair with a hot, intellectually inferior guy and then when I'm finished with him—or rather my vagina screams for mercy—I'll start looking around for the guy who will father my children and fantasize about the man who used to bend me in a pretzel.”

At that Hope broke into peals of laughter and nearly choked on a soggy noodle.

“Good luck,” she managed, and they both dissolved into giggles like teenagers.

Hope broke out of her reverie and realized her water was cold.

“I miss you, Tanya,” she murmured as she climbed from the tub and released the plug to drain it. “I hope heaven is overrun with sexy, smart guys with great burly thighs just for you, my friend.”

Hope wiped at the sudden tears and tucked her robe around her.

She'd never admit it out loud, but she missed J.T. more than she should.

J.T. had been her smart, sexy—no, incredibly sexy—adventure and she hadn't been ready to give him up.

Sighing heavily, she climbed into bed and tried to find sleep.

J.T. had planted questions in her head—questions without easy answers.

Was there a mole embedded within Tessara? And if so, did that mean she was still in danger?

More than ever she wished J.T. were beside her.

But that wasn't logical.

Nothing about their relationship had been logical.

Maybe that'd been the best part.