Call To Redemption. Tawny WeberЧитать онлайн книгу.
on his face, he couldn’t read her well enough to know if that was a green light or a cautious yellow.
Nic didn’t brag about what he did, but he didn’t hide it, either. Simply put, there was nothing relaxing about talking about his work. Not right now. Not when just thinking about it felt like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless and empty.
So he sidestepped.
“Let’s just say I’m gifted at seeing my way around any variety of obstacles while engineering the successful outcome that serves people of all walks of life.”
Check him, he thought, grinning. He could have a future in politics. Or with the Navy brass, which was sometimes the same thing.
“Well, that’s intriguingly vague,” she said with a laugh.
“Intriguing enough to tempt you to have dinner with me?”
Narrowing those eyes in a cautious way that made him want to know all of her secrets, she gave him a considering look before offering the smallest of shrugs.
“I’d hate to let your public service announcement go to waste. And this will give you time to tell me all about how you serve people with engineered outcomes.”
Instead of answering, he held out his hand to help her to her feet. As soon as her slender fingers were tucked in his, he changed the subject. Walking up the stairs to the restaurant, he shared the family story of how his uncle and father had collected every single shell that was embedded in the airy spiral staircase.
He wasn’t going to talk about his career.
He was on leave, and for the first time in his life, he was focusing on his wants. His needs. And right now, he needed to simply be a man.
One evening wouldn’t hurt, he told himself, ignoring the stabbing sense of disloyalty.
Not if that one evening brought him even an iota of solace against the pain.
* * *
SO...
This was romance.
Darby released a long, surreptitious breath as she stared across the table, crystal shimmering in the moonlight, silver gleaming in the glow of three fat candles flaming in their abalone bowls. The ocean hummed a gentle symphony in the background, the waves cresting white while rich purple blossoms scented the air with sweet seduction.
Even as she settled into the plush chair cushion, she could feel her muscle fibers twitching against the need to get up and run.
She shouldn’t be here.
She wasn’t cut out for romance.
Hell, she didn’t even believe in the concept.
But as Dominic slid into his chair, all those thoughts faded in a haze of lust.
God, the man was gorgeous.
Her muscles twitched again, this time with the need to slide her hands over the breadth of those shoulders. Just to see if they were as rock-solid as they looked.
But she was pretty sure once she had her hands on that body, she’d be hard-pressed to keep her exploration to just his shoulders.
Desire tingled over her skin. Tingled, for Christ’s sake. She, the woman who’d laugh if anyone else said that, was tingling.
“Before we order, there are two things I need to tell you,” he said, his tone as serious as his eyes were hypnotic.
She could lose herself in those dark depths, she thought before playing his words back.
Darby’s smile faded. Tell her things? Well, that was never good.
“First, I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. You remind me of a sexy pixie.”
“I knew I should have worn heels,” Darby murmured, trying not to be too charmed by the image his words invoked. But dammit, she’d taken a lot of hits about her stature over the years—this was the first that made her want to embrace it.
“It’s more about your look than your height. You’ve got that sharp, edgy, too-gorgeous-to-be-real thing going on.” His smile quirked, one brow arching in amusement. “Add in a hint of sass and a look that says you have a way with wicked, and there you go. Sexy pixie.”
“Mmm, I can do wicked,” Darby agreed, relaxing enough to reach across the table and slide her fingers over the back of his hand. “Or is that naughty? I have trouble telling the difference between the two.”
Ahh, there it was. Heat. Her pulse picked up a beat as she watched it flare in his eyes.
She might owe Grace a thank-you gift for putting sex in her head.
“You said two things,” she reminded him.
“Damn. Looking at you made me lose my train of thought.”
He shook his head as if trying to clear the fog. She liked that. Appreciated that he didn’t try to play cool or pretend he wasn’t affected. Who knew how sexy honesty could be?
“Okay, second thing.” He took a quick drink of his ice water before continuing. “I’m here for vacation. But when I’m not on, um, vacation, my career is intense. It demands all of my time, every ounce of my attention. I’m the kind of guy who makes workaholics look like slackers.”
“Your career is your life,” she murmured.
His arched brow said, “Exactly.”
Oh. Darby felt the tingle all the way down to her toes. See, she thought. Her mantra was sexy.
“You sound proud,” she said, appreciating every word. She’d heard plenty of people claim their career was priority. She’d come across quite a few workaholics, especially in her line of work.
But this was the first time she’d seen the same passion, the same at-the-cost-of-anything zeal in someone’s eyes that also drove her.
Oh, yeah. So sexy.
“I am proud,” he admitted. “Dedication is vital in my world. Because of mine, I’m damn good at what I do.”
His smile faded, something that looked like pain flashing in his eyes for a moment before his expression cleared. “Yeah. Damn good. But that doesn’t leave room in my life for anything else.”
And there it was, she realized as she felt a tiny ping in her heart. It was as if he knew the exact words to dissolve every single smidgen of her resistance.
Now, resistance-free, she felt a little giddy. And ready to dive into her first romantic vacation fling. With that in mind, Darby flashed a sassy smile then pursed her lips.
“Oh, no.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Does this mean you’re not planning to ask me to run off after dessert to get married so we can open a cute little bed-and-breakfast on the beach, where you’ll cook, and homeschool our eight children?”
“What are you doing while I’m slaving over stove and chalkboard?”
“Eight children,” she reminded him, her smile masking her bafflement at the idea of how much work that must be. Eight. Did anyone have that much love? Her mother hadn’t even had enough for two. But this was a game, she reminded herself. “Which means that I, of course, will be splitting my time between mommy duties and making sure I look hot and sexy in order to lure you into bed to work on number nine.”
“Does that lure include hot-oil body rubs, see-through nighties and the occasional role-playing game?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds tempting,” he decided with a long, slow smile so sexy that Darby felt its impact deep in her belly.
“Only one problem,” he confessed. “I’m a lousy cook.”
“Me, too.” She shrugged. “I guess there goes that dream.”
“It’s