Liam had come through for her. She was safe and Brandon’s concerns were being investigated. Brandon would be looked after.
And who would look after Liam?
Her eyes slid closed as she thought back to their kiss in the Jeep, so much better to think about than what they’d been through that led them to the kiss. The way he had of distracting her from everything was scary and tantalizing. Always had been, even back when she’d first known him during those frenetic weeks in the Bahamas…
An aftershock rattled the ground clear up through her toes until it rattled her teeth and her nerves after an endless day on the pile, searching for survivors in the rubble. She tossed down her toiletries, tossing aside all hopes of a bath as well. She snagged up Disco’s leash and he trotted into step alongside her as she ran for the door, bursting out onto the beach cabin porch, down the steps.
The narrow street filled with rescue workers and locals, pouring from the houses left standing—or half standing. The structure next door tilted at an angle toward the seaside cliff. And big buff guys pushed through the door, angling sideways to get out ASAP.
Big buff guys wearing nothing but towels, shower time apparently interrupted.
Her eyes locked on one guy in particular. The major she’d met earlier, when she’d first arrived. The ground settled under her feet and she breathed easy enough to allow herself a more leisurely look. She didn’t date or even hook up very often, but this guy had been a serious temptation from the get-go, even fully clothed in grimy camo.
And now, seeing him in nothing more than an insubstantial bit of white terry cloth? Ho-ly cow, he was hot, hot, hot at a time when she could seriously use a distraction. His dark blond hair was even browner, glistening wet from a shower. His chest was like carved bronze muscle. He seemed totally unself-conscious that he stood in the middle of the road wearing nothing more than leather flip-flops and a towel.
She couldn’t resist teasing him, since she didn’t dare touch him. Not out here, and not before she figured out if he was affair material.
“Lose your clothes, Major?” She stood beside her black Lab, leash in hand. Her grimy cargo pants and body-hugging T-shirt stuck to her after a long day working.
Her dog started sniffing the edge of Liam’s towel suspiciously, all seventy pounds of pooch tensed, hackles rising along the canine’s spine.
“It’s not my clothes I’m worried about right now, ma’am. Think you can get your dog to let go of my towel?”
“Disco?” She thumbed the clicker in her hand and her dog dropped to his haunches. “Good boy.”
“Thanks.”
“And Major?”
“Yeah?”
“You may want to invest in a larger towel.” She clapped him on his bare shoulder matter-of-factly before striding past, toward the cabana next door.
His eyes lingered on her the whole way. She could feel his stare, feel how still he stood rooted to the spot for a solid five seconds, watching her walk away. Her ponytail, gathered high and haphazardly on top of her head, swished with each step, teasing her shoulders like a phantom touch. The way she imagined Liam’s touch would be if she indulged…
Groaning, Rachel hugged the pillow tighter against an ache that had started growing six months ago. She’d convinced herself he was the kind of guy she could have an affair with, some uncomplicated, easy sex. Except then he’d shocked the hell out of her by saying he was falling in love with her.
As if she believed that. His track record with women didn’t bode well for longevity. Which should have been a plus, but there was something so… intense and real in his eyes, in spite of his jokes and grins. The things he’d shared with her tonight, the intensity and hurt in his voice, had made her question her preconceived notions about how he charmed his way through chicks. Even now, she could feel the tension rippling through him as she sat pressed to his side. He confused her and aroused her and tugged at her heart all at once.
She knew one thing for sure. Nothing with Liam would ever be uncomplicated or easy.
***
Scanning the street, Liam approached Sylvia on the swing with a low whistle to alert her he was approaching. Wouldn’t want her to shoot him, even though she was the one who’d texted him to come outside.
Leaving Rachel made him nervous, but he had her bedroom window in sight. And honestly, he needed a breather from the way Rachel had of prying out the deep-down crap from his past. He’d had enough spilling his guts for one night. Right now, he welcomed the fresh air and the chance to talk to Sylvia without a legion of agents crawling around the office. It was all about work now, and in that realm, he felt comfortable, in control.
“Just me,” he announced. “Mind if I join you?”
An innocuous enough statement for anyone who might be listening.
Sylvia waved to the seat beside her, cigarette tip swirling a red glow. “Please.”
The swing creaked as he sat. “Thought you were going to quit smoking.”
“I have. Used the patch for six months. Have kept to it for four months since. For the most part. I only indulge myself on special missions like this.” She drew in on the cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Stress reliever.”
“How often do those sorts of occasion roll around, to snatch a smoke?”