Authors: Tawny Weber
She sounded like a freaking lawyer. Or worse, he realized, gritting his teeth, a psychologist.
“You didn’t share your last name,” he countered.
“You’re right.” She inclined her head, the move sending her halo of frizzed-out curls wafting around her face. “And that makes me loose and easy. Which is still better than a liar in my book.”
That was enough. Blake straightened, giving her a dark look. Name-calling? That’s the best she could do?
“Look, you have some issues with your father. I get that. And I know he pissed you off with his little matchmaking game. But what does it matter? We’re great together. You’re not going to toss that away over him, are you? Because, what? You have some kind of Pavlovian response, automatically rejecting whatever your father approves of?”
As the words cleared his lips, Blake cringed.
She froze. Everything except her eyes. Those were like fire. She gave him a long, slow once-over before meeting his gaze again. This time he almost stepped back. “Well, aren’t you clever? Throwing out those psych terms like an expert. Clearly you’ve got it all figured out. So tell me, Blake... Do you know the meaning of closure? How about inductive reasoning? Or here’s a simple one. Goodbye.”
She didn’t wait for his response before stepping back and slamming the door shut in his face.
Damn
.
Furious with himself, Blake glared at the closed door.
He deserved to get shot down over that one.
Dammit, he’d just wanted a space from the memories, a chance to be a man instead of a soldier who’d just lost a brother-in-arms. What was it with women, always expecting a guy to spill his guts and blab like they did? He didn’t want to talk about his job, or about Phil. He was escaping, not looking for a chance to wallow.
And if she’d wanted to know more about who he was, what he did for a living, then that was on her. She should have asked instead of pitching a fit after the fact.
He resisted the temptation to bang on the door again, shoving his fists in his pockets instead. Grinding his teeth, he stared unseeingly while his mind regrouped.
He wasn’t finished.
He never gave up.
But, as much as it grated to admit, retreat was the only option right now.
Tomorrow, though?
Tomorrow, he’d win.
* * *
T
HE
LAST
THING
Alexia wanted to do after a sleepless night spent crying over Blake was to face her father. She’d wanted to stay in bed with the covers pulled over her head and a bowl of hot fudge.
But she knew that walking out on his party was tantamount to a declaration of war. As with all conflicts the admiral oversaw, the battles would be played to win at all costs. But she’d spent her formative years learning strategy and figured she was as prepared as she could be.
She wouldn’t win. Nope, she wasn’t delusional. Going up against an admiral in the United States Navy, a SEAL trainer? She didn’t stand a chance. This was all about mitigating damages.
The timing was crucial. A waiting period of just long enough for his temper to drop but not long enough for it to chill.
The combat zone had to be chosen with an eye toward tactics. Brunch at her mother’s table didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t get ugly. But it did mean he’d have to stop to take sips of his coffee between insults.
Her weapons? Maturity and logic, and a gift for communication. As long as she kept her temper and presented her case in a diplomatic, intelligent way, the admiral would listen. He might not agree, but he’d listen.
So, there ya go
, she told herself.
Ready to rock
.
Standing on her parents’ porch, she pressed one hand to her churning stomach, said a little prayer and knocked.
She didn’t recognize the housekeeper who answered, but followed her meekly down the hall. When they passed the French doors where she’d had her confrontation with Blake, she almost tripped over her own Jimmy Choos. Why’d he have to show up last night? Her eyes filled again, both fury and hurt making her want to hit something. It was like Cinderella at the ball, watching her prince turn into a rabid toad.
No
. She clenched her fist around the strap of her purse and took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to think about Blake. All weaknesses, all worries, all distractions had to be ignored. Because eggs Benedict and mango aside, this was war.
“Mother,” she greeted. Then, her fingers only trembling a little, she smiled at the admiral. “Father. Good morning.”
“Alexia,” her mother exclaimed. The older woman was perfectly made up. Her hair was more golden, like Michael’s, than red like her daughter’s, and fell in a smooth swing around a wrinkle-free face that didn’t show a single sign of her late night. Ever the perfect hostess, she indicated to the housekeeper to bring in another plate even as she rose to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Lovely?” her father derided, snapping his newspaper shut and slapping it onto the table. He gave Alexia a dark look. “I had higher expectations of your moving back here, young lady.”
For a second, just one sparkling bright second, Alexia’s heart melted. He’d wanted her back? He’d anticipated her return?
“And this is how you behave now you’re here? By insulting me and my guest?”
Silly heart, she chided, sliding into a chair and setting her purse at her feet to give herself time to blink away the unexpected tears.
“I’m sorry you saw it as an insult,” she apologized when she looked up, her words sincere. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
She’d promised herself when she’d moved back to San Diego that she’d handle her relationship with her parents in a mature, dignified fashion. No hiding, no avoiding, no drama.
“I’m sure Alexia had a good reason for leaving,” Margaret chimed in, irritation giving an extra snap to her words. “Let it be, Elliot. She’s only been home a week, probably hasn’t even unpacked yet. The last thing she needs right now is to worry about a relationship.”
The tension ratcheting down a notch, Alexia gave her mother a grateful smile. It’d been rare growing up that their mother sided against their father. Allies must present a united front, after all.
“We’ll have dinner next weekend,” Margaret continued, gesturing to Alexia to have some fruit. “Just a quiet little get-together. You can invite the lieutenant then, Elliot.”
Alexia’s shoulders sagged. She fisted the crisp white fabric of her skirt between her fingers to keep from banging them on the table. She specialized in communication. Why could she never get through to her parents?
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she tried again, calling on patience. “But I’m not interested in dating Lieutenant Landon. Not last night, not next week. Not ever.”
“That’s ridiculous,” her father stated. “He’s a fine young man. A great career ahead of him. You’re just being stubborn out of habit.”
“No. I’m trying to be clear. I’ve just moved to town and, as Mother said, haven’t even unpacked yet. I start a new job tomorrow, one that’s going to take all my focus and concentration. I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”
At least, not anymore. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. Yesterday, she’d been wide-open to the idea.
“Speaking of that job,” the admiral said, propping his elbows on the table and giving her a steely look. “I’d like for you to meet with the head of the Dillard Institute next week. They have an opening for an acoustical engineer. Now that you have top-level clearance, you’d qualify just fine.”
“I have a job already. One I moved across the country for.” Stress did a grinding little twist in her gut as Alexia realized that her walking out the night before was only the opening salvo to her father’s list of issues. He had a whole arsenal of complaints to shoot her way.
Her father waved away her objection. “You’ll need to change jobs. Did you see today’s paper? There’s a write-up about you and that sex-research grant in there. It’s completely unacceptable.”
Unacceptable. How often had she heard that over the years? Closing her eyes, Alexia tried to breathe past the knot in her chest. Why had she expected things to change?
“Are you paying attention, young lady?”
He never used her name. Maybe he didn’t know it. All her life, she’d been young lady. And for this, she was making herself ill? Worrying herself into misery, all while apologizing for making an adult choice in a matter that was completely her decision?
Alexia opened her eyes, lifted her napkin from her lap and set it on the table next to her plate. She gave her mother, then her father, a distant smile and got to her feet.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.
“I’d hoped that in moving back we could heal our relationship. If not come to love and enjoy one another, at least reach a respectful camaraderie,” she informed them in the same smooth, distant cadence she’d used delivering her dissertation at the age of twenty-two. “Unfortunately, in the handful of hours we’ve spent in each other’s company I’ve come to realize that would be impossible.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Margaret said with a sigh, topping her orange juice off with more champagne.
“No, Mother, I’m being practical.” Alexia bent down to pick up her purse, then faced her father. “You’ve made it clear that I’ll never be good enough to meet your standards.”
“You mean you won’t try to meet them.”
“Since that would require that I date men you choose, regardless of my feelings about them, and that I change my career to suit your preferences, then no. I won’t.”
“If you walk out that door, you’re finished with this family.” The admiral’s voice was as emotionless as if he’d just recited the weather forecast. Of course, he probably figured the weather was more cooperative than his eldest child.
For the first time since she’d walked into her parents’ house that morning, Alexia smiled. “That’s the last thing you said to me when I graduated college and moved to New York.”
She didn’t wait for a response. There was no point.
* * *
T
HREE
HOURS
,
FOUR
IBUPROFEN
and a cold compress later, Alexia lay on her couch practicing meditative breathing. The now-lukewarm cloth across her eyes dimmed the light while the soothing sounds of her relaxation tape played through her earbuds.
Suddenly, someone pressed a hand against her arm.
She screamed. Heart racing, she jackknifed. The damp terry cloth went flying one way, her iPod the other.
“Calm down,” Michael said, both hands raised as if to prove he was unarmed. “It’s just me.”
“What’re you doing here?” She eyed the cloth now hanging off the rosewood table, but didn’t have the energy to move it. Instead, she dropped back to her pillow and tossed her forearm over her eyes.
“I heard you had brunch with the parents. So I brought ice cream.”
Alexia shifted her arm just enough to peer out. Michael shook the white bag as proof.
“Your favorite. Double-chocolate caramel with almonds.” He waited until she was upright before handing it to her. “The spoon’s in the bag.”
Chocolate might not fix everything, but it sure made suffering through it a lot easier, Alexia decided as she opened her treat.
“I can’t believe I thought it would be different. How stupid is that?” She dug into the carton, pressing hard to fill her spoon.
“You aren’t stupid. Most people have decent relationships with their parents. You probably just forgot that yours aren’t human.”
Alexia’s lips twitched. Then she sighed, staring at the spoonful of chocolate for a few seconds before gulping it down. It was delicious, but didn’t soothe the way it should.
“Besides, it’s not the admiral and his Mrs. that has you all tweaked out.”
“Well, aren’t you the king of perception,” she muttered.
“Queen, actually.” Michael grinned. “And to prove it, I’ll continue my brilliant assessment.”
Alexia curled her feet under her and gestured with the spoon for him to have a go at it.
“You’re upset about the hottie from the beach, right?”
Alexia gave a jerk of her shoulder, pouting into the carton instead of meeting her brother’s gaze.
“You had fun with him?”
“Do hours and hours of mind-blowing sex count as fun?”
“They do in my book.”
“Then sure. We had fun. But that’s all it was. Fun.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Getting up because the chocolate was starting to hurt her stomach, not because she wanted to avoid any aspect of this fabulous conversation, Alexia headed into the kitchen. “Water?”
“Sure. While you get it, you can tell me what you were hoping for from Blake.”
Honesty.
Openness.
Forty or so more orgasms.
A chance to build a relationship.
“Nothing,” she said, pulling two bottles from the fridge and letting the cool air chill the heat on her cheeks. She’d never been a good liar.
“Well, then you got exactly what you wanted,” Michael decided when she handed him his water. “Too bad he didn’t get what he wanted.”
Sure he had. On the beach. In his truck. On her bed. In her shower. Hell, right there on her dining-room table. He wasn’t a shy, retiring sort of guy. If he’d wanted anything more than that, he’d have said so.
A bitter weight settled in her stomach.
“How would you know what he wanted?”
“After you left last night he found me.”
Alexia’s feet dropped to the floor. Wide-eyed, she peered at her brother, trying to see what he wasn’t saying.
“And?”
“And you’re awfully interested for a woman who wants nothing from him.”
“Why’d he find you?” she pressed, ignoring the dig.
“To ask what it’d take to get you to talk to him again.” Michael crossed one slender ankle over his khaki-clad knee and sipped his water, then arched one elegant brow. “So? What’ll it take?”
“For him to change careers. To get amnesia and forget he served with Father. To learn the importance of open, honest communication.”
“He’s not going to change careers. He’s a SEAL, he’s totally dedicated. Would you change careers for a relationship? I think not,” Michael said reasonably. She peered at him, wondering if he’d been hiding in the kitchen during brunch.