Breakpoint Page 13

  Because he was tempted to drag her onto his lap and take things farther, he dragged his mouth from hers, skimming his lips in an achingly leisurely pace over her face, brushing them against her temples before moving on to her closed lids.

  “If we don’t stop, I’m going to forget this is fake,” he said against her hair. “Then I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe it’s fake?”

  “No. That you won’t be responsible. I’m starting to figure out that I may just have underestimated you.”

  He drew his head back. “Was that a compliment I just heard escaping those luscious lips?”

  “I’d already figured out that what people see isn’t exactly who you are,” she said. “But I am getting the feeling that whatever Spec Ops cowboy mentality you bring to a situation, you’re not one to duck responsibility.”

  “Hard to do when lives are on the line. So.” He reluctantly backed away from temptation. “Ready to move to phase two of the operation?”

  “It depends. If it involves having sex to continue this playacting we’re doing for that audio bug, I’m going to have to pass.”

  Although the situation was a lot more serious than he’d thought when he’d signed up for this THOR gig, and seemed to be getting more and more so, Dallas laughed.

  “Darlin’, believe me, when I get you into my bed, there isn’t going to be any playacting involved.”

  “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

  “Not of myself.” He twisted the key in the ignition. “Of us. The chemistry’s been there from the beginning. You felt it. I felt it. Before it would’ve been inappropriate for either of us to act on it. Not only because of the situation we were in, on opposite sides of a legal case, but because you were an officer and I was enlisted.

  “But the world turns; things move on. Now we’re civilians, so those old military rules of conduct don’t apply. Toss in some danger and shake well, and we’ve got ourselves a combustive situation.”

  He pulled out of the lot and headed back in the direction they’d come, toward the base. “But while I’ve been known to be up for a one-night stand from time to time, in the right circumstances, so long as both parties agree that’s all it is, you and I both also know that one night together isn’t going to be enough.

  “So, since this is too soon, and there’s no way we’ll be able to hook up on the boat, we’ll both have plenty of time to get comfortable with the idea.”

  “Humph.” She folded her arms. “And if that doesn’t happen?”

  “It will.”

  She didn’t agree. But she didn’t argue either. Yet more progress, Dallas thought with satisfaction.

  “Well, whoever the hell planted that bug sure as hell isn’t Special Forces,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because not only did he—”

  “Or she.”

  “Or she”—he accepted the correction—“stick it in one of the most obvious, clichéd places imaginable, they also should know enough to allow a couple cars to get between their target and their vehicle when they’re tailing someone.”

  “That car that pulled into the overlook after us is behind us?”

  Dallas liked that she didn’t turn around. Once again he thought that beauty and brains were a terrific combination. Add in her unflappability, and he couldn’t remember when any woman had intrigued him more.

  “On our tail,” he said. “Not exactly riding our bumper, but close enough to not be even the least bit subtle.”

  “Maybe they don’t want to be,” she considered. “Maybe whoever it is wants us to know we’re being watched.”

  “It’s always possible it’s their goofy idea of a warning. But if that’s their goal, then they don’t know much about Special Forces. Because threatening us just makes us more determined to beat them into the ground.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve just figured something else out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Another reason THOR assigned you to this case is that your IQ is off the charts.”

  “IQ is just a number,” he said with a shrug.

  “That may be. But it’s one of the few things that wasn’t blacked out of your service record.”

  Given that he’d already figured out the lady was a control freak, Dallas guessed she’d been more than a little frustrated by the lack of intel she’d been able to unearth. “They call them black ops for a reason.”

  “I get that. And that’s the other reason. Because not only are you really, really smart, you’ve spent these past years working outside the rules, which means you see all the shades of gray. While my work required more of a black-and-white attitude.”

  “That’s pretty much most military mind-sets,” Dallas allowed. “The world may be full of gray, but if you allow yourself to start thinking too much outside the black-and-white good guys and bad guys, you risk getting yourself—and your teammates—killed.”

  “My father has this saying: ‘There’s a right way, a wrong way, and the Navy way.’ ”

  “Which doesn’t allow much wiggle room.”

  “No. And I like to think that I’m a bit more broad-minded than he is. But the thing is, if THOR didn’t seriously believe that we’re dealing with more than a simple suicide, they wouldn’t have assigned a guy who got a perfect score on his SAT who can also work the margins.”

  “I’m not the only person in this car with a perfect SAT score.”

  “Since you’ve already admitted to delving into my records, and undoubtedly with more success than I did yours, I’m not surprised you’d know that.”

  He wondered if she knew that the reason he’d dropped out of Cal Poly after two years was that having gotten bored in the classroom, he’d been looking for something more exciting. Which he’d definitely found in the Air Force Special Forces.

  “But I agree,” she said. “Numbers are just that—numbers. But while my work has admittedly left me not the most trusting of people, I never would’ve suspected we’d been set up. Or thought to look for a bug.”

  “You would’ve if you’d spent the past years with terrorists trying to find and kill you. But since we’re working in the dark, until we can start interviewing sailors on that carrier, there’s no way I’m going to be leaving you alone. Just in case.”

  “I’m not some weak-spined character from a woman-in-jeopardy movie who needs a big strong male’s protection.”

  “Never said you were. But even SEALs and D-boys work in teams. No point putting yourself in a dangerous situation alone if you’ve got a wingman handy.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Absolutely. And if it eases your mind, I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “Of course you will be,” she agreed. “Just because I was JAG doesn’t mean that I haven’t had military training. I do have a black belt in karate. And I am not afraid to use it.”

  “Did you manage to find, anywhere in my files, that I find women who can break bricks with their bare hands really, really sexy?”

  The ice princess was back. In spades. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the look she swept over him left him with frostbite.

  “If that’s supposed to make my foolish feminine heart go all pitter-patter, it isn’t going to work,” she said coolly. “I just wanted to point out that I am capable of protecting myself.”

  “I’ve not a single doubt of that, Lieutenant, darlin’,” he said in an exaggerated drawl. Okay, maybe he was jerking her chain just a little. But he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t known the lady could give as good as she took.

  She folded her arms and stared straight ahead.

  Although he hadn’t left the service with some of the PTSD problems many of his battle buddies had, it had still been a very long time since Dallas had found anything to smile about.

  Or to look forward to.

  Despite their situation having ratcheted up from interesting to ser
ious, and even perhaps dangerous, Dallas was, for the first time in a very long while, enjoying himself. Enjoying her.

  21

  Julianne watched as Dallas checked for the hair he’d stuck to the outside of the door when they’d left. He’d asked for one of hers, since it was longer and, being blond, less likely to show up. It was very James Bond, and if she were to be perfectly honest, she couldn’t decide if she was unsettled by or excited about what was definitely not a run-of-the-mill investigation.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “It’s still there. Which suggests that we’re dealing with only that one guy, and maybe the woman, if she knew what, exactly, she was doing when she came over to distract us.”

  “Only one guy here at the base,” Julianne said. “But events so far suggest a conspiracy.”

  “Which doesn’t preclude suicide,” Dallas said as he opened the door. But not before blocking her body with his.

  What, did he think he could stop some explosive device or bullet with his manly chest?

  Given what she knew about Spec Ops guys, Julianne wouldn’t have been all that surprised to discover he believed exactly that.

  “Did I mention that my mother is an artist?” she asked as they entered the room.

  “I don’t believe it came up.” He looked a bit puzzled as he put the computer bag back on the table.

  “She took up painting during one of my dad’s deployments. She dabbled around in various mediums, oils, collage, even photography for a time, until she settled on watercolors.”

  “It’s probably important to keep busy.”

  “That’s what she always said. And even with all the duties that were part of being an officer’s wife and taking care of us kids, she’s always been overly energetic, so painting—along with gardening—proved a good outlet for her.” She put her leather bag next to his.

  “She tried to get me interested,” she continued conversationally. “But unfortunately, I seem to have the artistic talent of a chimpanzee with a fistful of crayons. But all the visits to the museums she’d take us to in whatever town we were living in at the time did teach me to recognize real art from the starving-artist paint-in-an-hour stuff.”

  “Really?” He lifted a brow, but she could tell from his smile that he knew exactly where she was going with this.

  “Really. And I have to say, this painting is definitely offending my artistic sensibilities. Such as they are.”

  She ran her fingers over the glass fronting the watercolor. “I’m not even sure I’ll be able to sleep with it hanging over my bed.”

  “Well, not that I intend for you to get all that much sleep.” His voice deepened to that slow drawl. “But I also wouldn’t want you distracted.”

  He lifted the painting off the wall again. “How about I just go stick it in my room for the time being? Let housekeeping deal with it after we’ve gone?”

  “I think that’s a perfect solution.” She didn’t have to fake the throaty tone that was a direct response to the sexuality in his voice.

  Since they’d never bothered to unlock the door on his side of the room, he left just long enough to get rid of the painting, giving her a quick moment to duck into the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror.

  Unsurprisingly, although she seldom wore more than a featherlight mineral powder, mascara to keep her pale lashes from completely disappearing, and tinted Chap-Stick, the moisturizer she’d worn on the plane to hydrate her skin had left her face shiny. Her lips were bare, and the mascara, which was falsely billed as not only waterproof but smearproof, had left smudges beneath both eyes.

  “You’re a long, long way from Angelina Jolie,” she muttered as she tried to smooth the loose hairs that had fallen to hang down around her face back into their tidy knot. Her hair was her only vanity, which was why, when she’d headed off to Annapolis, rather than cut it, she’d learned myriad ways to keep it above her collar, as regs required.

  “Don’t do that.”

  Not having heard Dallas return, Julianne jumped at the sound of his voice and spun toward him. He was standing in the doorway, one broad shoulder against the jamb.

  “You nearly scared me to death,” she complained, wondering how long he’d been standing there, watching her. Her heart, beneath the hand that had instinctively flown to her chest, was pounding like a rabbit’s.

  From the sudden surprise, she assured herself. Not because he was too sexy for the faded jeans he’d changed into while he’d been in his room.

  “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look sorry. What he looked was interested.

  “Do you always sneak up on women that way?”

  “No. I’ve always found that being straightforward is the best approach.”

  He entered the room, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her back toward the mirror.

  “Those little hanging-down things are really sexy,” he murmured as he played with the loose strands from behind. The wall of his chest was strong against her back, reminding her of the hot and edgy way he’d felt when they’d been playing pinball.

  But this was even more dangerous, because then they’d been in public. Here, all alone, there was nothing to stop her from doing what she suspected they were both thinking of doing.

  Nothing short of self-control. Which she’d always prided herself on.

  “Makes a man wonder what would happen if he just pulled out all those pins.”

  “I don’t remember inviting you to touch.” Her tone was cool; her blood was not.

  “Tell me to stop. And I will.”

  She could.

  She should.

  But it was only hair. It wasn’t as if he were about to take her clothes off.

  “I’ve just been dying to know,” he said when she remained silent.

  He plucked out one pin and tossed it on the counter.

  Then another.

  Four more followed, leaving a long, tied-at-the-nape ponytail that fell nearly to the center of her back.

  Julianne was appalled to find herself holding her breath as he slipped the elastic band loose. Then he ran his hands through the freed strands.

  “I knew it,” he said, as much to himself, it seemed, as to her.

  “Knew what?”

  “That it would feel like corn silk.”

  “You’re such a smooth talker,” she accused, wanting to keep things light.

  “And you’re stunning.”

  “Actually, I’m fairly ordinary.” She’d never been one to lie, even to herself, and having never based her self-confidence on her looks, she’d been able to be objective about them. “Back in high school, Merry talked me into filling out a questionnaire in one of her teen magazines, and while she came out a cheerleader prom queen, I ended up the girl-next-door type.”

  “God, have I been living in the wrong neighborhood all my life.”

  After arranging her hair over her shoulders to his satisfaction, he turned her around so they were facing each other, Julianne looking up at him, Dallas looking down at her.

  “You’re still just fixated on that dress.”

  “Now, see, there’s where you’re wrong. The dress was dynamite, and I hope when she gets it on the market that it pays for your sister’s kids’ college. But what I’m fixated on is the woman who was wearing it so well.”

  He studied her for a long, silent time, which was surely only seconds, but seemed like minutes. Hours.

  Julianne could feel her breath catch in her throat as his warm brown eyes darkened so much it was difficult to tell pupil from iris. When he bent his head, she braced herself for another of those devastating kisses, but instead, he merely pressed his lips against her forehead.

  “Work,” he said with a decided lack of enthusiasm as he backed away. “We need to track down that car that followed us.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed, no more eager than he. Not when she knew they were both thinking of something else.

  Something that had nothing to do with work. And ever
ything to do with getting naked together.

  “But how do you intend to do that?”

  “I figured I’d start by running the license plate through the base motor pool record.”

  She wasn’t surprised by his intention to hack into the MCB records. Tried to assure herself that they had been given as close as any investigators could get to carte blanche. But still . . .

  “You have the plate number?”

  “Sure. I got it while they were following us.”

  “You may have spotted them. But as you said, they weren’t exactly on our bumper.” She’d managed to catch a glimpse of the staff car in the passenger-side mirror.

  “True. But I guess I failed to mention my twenty/ten vision. Of course, that’s just a number—”

  “Like your IQ and SAT scores.”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  “And, of course, once you saw it”—she tapped her temple—“it was forever locked away in that computerized vault you call a brain.”

  “Pretty much.” He actually sounded a bit apologetic, which Julianne found rather endearing.

  Unsurprisingly, he hacked into the base motor pool records in no time flat.

  “No go,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the car’s not from the MCBH.”

  “Then it wasn’t that redhead’s Marine husband?”

  “Could’ve been. Probably not.” He tapped a few more keys. “No problem.” More tapping. Julianne had always considered herself a fast typist; Dallas was faster. “I’ll just spread my net a little farther.”

  “Are you sure they can’t track you?”

  “Don’t worry. I know the codes as well as I know that little mole at the nape of your neck.”

  She felt a bit of color rise again in her cheeks. Which was ridiculous. Having grown up on military bases, surrounded by sailors, Julianne never, ever blushed.

  “Try the Pearl motor pool,” she suggested.

  He flashed a grin. “Great minds.” He squinted as he studied the screen, scrolling down through a list of numbers. “Bingo.”

  “We were followed by someone in the Navy?”

  “Seems so.”

  “Wow. I could tell we’d landed ourselves in a turf battle during our meeting with the commander, but I had no idea—”