Yes, it was. But what he felt for Jordana was serious too.
And Chase was right, he needed to sort it out. He needed to see if there was any way for both the Order and her to fit into his life.
“What are you going to do?” Rafe asked.
Nathan chuckled. “I guess I’m going to go to Jordana’s exhibit opening at the museum tonight.”
Rafe gaped. “What? You mean, like some kind of date? You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not.” When Rafe paused outside the weapons room, Nathan kept walking, heading for his quarters.
“I hope you don’t plan to go there in full patrol gear,” Rafe called out from behind him, laughing now.
Shit. Nathan hadn’t considered things that far. He, the consummate tactician. The expert at weaponry and warfare didn’t have the first clue how to present himself as anything even remotely resembling a man going to be with his woman in a social gathering.
A date, for crissake.
Nathan pivoted and strode back to find Rafe. He pulled him outside the weapons room and lowered his voice. “What the fuck does someone wear to a museum party?”
19
JORDANA STOOD IN THE GALLERY OUTSIDE THE EXHIBIT HALL of the museum, feeling a sense of relief—a sense of pride and accomplishment—as she looked out over the packed house at the grand opening that evening.
She had been hoping the event would be well attended, but the sea of benefactors, society elite, museum members and general public arriving to fill the space far exceeded anything she’d dared to imagine.
Everyone was there tonight, her father included. Martin Gates mingled easily among his Darkhaven peers and the other upper-class citizens of Boston. Dressed in a conservative charcoal gray suit, pristine white shirt, and perfectly knotted silk tie, the handsome, staid, dark-haired Breed male looked every bit the wealthy investor and businessman that he was.>He’d already let his hunger for her trump his good judgment. He may have jeopardized his team’s entire mission by taking Jordana’s virginity last night instead of bringing her in to take her statement as he would any other witness.
That was the reason he now stood outside Chase’s office, fully prepared to take whatever punishment he was due.
He’d placed his own selfish wants above his greater responsibility to his brethren last night. He couldn’t regret a moment of the hours he’d spent in Jordana’s bed, but the fact he’d done it in spite of the hard-won discipline he prided himself on—worse, that he pursued Jordana at the expense of his duty to his teammates—was a failure he intended to rectify by any means possible.
He read Jordana’s message again and groaned at his loss.
He would call her after his meeting with Chase and tell her not to expect him.
Dammit. He was going to have to try to explain to her that the next time she saw him, it would likely be on instructions to collect her and hold her at the command center as a witness until the Order felt she was of no further use in their investigation.
He could only hope she wouldn’t despise him for not having that conversation with her before she surrendered to him so openly last night.
As he berated himself for that further failure, his comm vibrated with another incoming transmission.
No message this time. Just an image.
Jordana, in a red dress.
A sexy, back-baring, curve-hugging, stupefyingly hot red dress.
And she had to know how incredible she looked in it. Posed from behind in front of a full-length mirror inside her dressing room, she looked over her shoulder at the camera with an expression that was confident, provocative, utterly sensual.
And meant just for him.
Nathan’s fangs punched out of his gums and his already uncomfortable hard-on became unbearable. He stared at her photo in abject lust, his fingers clamped so tight around his comm unit, it was a wonder the device didn’t shatter. All the air left his lungs on a ragged exhalation.
“Holy. Fucking. Hell.”
Without warning, the door to Commander Chase’s study opened.
“Shit.” Nathan jerked his head up, at the same time casually but quickly stowing his comm unit in the pocket of his fatigues. As an afterthought, he shoved his hands into both pockets too, hoping the added bulk would conceal the very obvious evidence of his arousal.