Coming Up for Air. Karen FoleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
and it wasn’t as if he could see the dog tags nestled between her breasts. She couldn’t blame him for mistaking her for a civilian.
Despite the fact she’d already decided he was fair game, her instincts screamed at her to refuse his offer. He was too tempting, too confident of his own attraction. She should run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But the expression in his eyes, combined with the seductive stroke of his finger against her skin, was doing strange things to her common sense. She could no longer remember why she should avoid getting involved with military guys, especially when this one was so damned gorgeous. Not that one night could possibly count as getting involved. After all, she’d be gone in three days. She’d never see him again. She glanced toward the bar, where Laura gave her a thumbs-up.
Chase arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response.
“Well, I do like pinot noir.”
2
WITH HER HAND TUCKED firmly into his, Chance Rawlins steered his spoils through the crowded nightclub, intent on getting her outside before she changed her mind. He recalled the incident in the supermarket, when their carts had collided. Normally, he’d have seized the opportunity to chat her up, maybe get a phone number, but she’d turned her cart away so fast he’d wondered if he’d left his fly unzipped.
The last place he’d expected to run into her again was Shooters nightclub, a place normally reserved for junior officers and local gals looking to get some action. Jenna Larson hadn’t struck him as falling into the latter category, but he’d been wrong.
Lucky for him.
The only reason he’d been at the club tonight was to give his brother, Chase, a decent send-off. He and his unit of elite special ops commandos were scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan in just two days. Despite the fact that most of his brother’s unit had been at the club, ready to raise a beer, Chase hadn’t shown up. Probably doing last-minute paperwork, Chance thought. As identical twins, they took their military duties seriously, but that’s where any similarity ended. Chase was all business, all the time, whereas Chance had no problem setting his work aside to have a little fun.
He glanced at the woman by his side.
Absolutely no problem whatsoever.
He didn’t make a habit of picking women up at clubs, but there was something about this particular woman that made him unable to release her after their dance. She’d aroused an awareness in him, a rush of hot excitement similar to what he felt just before he went out on a dangerous mission. He wasn’t about to ignore it.
He held the door open for Jenna, watching as she preceded him down the walkway to the parking lot. The night was warm and clear, with a soft breeze and the sound of night bugs in the surrounding trees. Jenna paused on the pavement, looking around.
“So which car is yours? Wait—don’t tell me.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “Let me guess.”
Chance came to a stop beside her. “You actually think you can guess which car is mine?”
“Sure.” She took a step back and pretended to size him up. “If I know your type, it’s probably understated and practical, but would need to have a great performance record. Which means it’s an expensive model.” She searched the lot. “I’m guessing an SUV, maybe a Land Rover or an older Land Cruiser.”
Chance gave a soft laugh. She’d just described his brother’s vehicle to a T. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you don’t know my type at all.”
She tossed him a determined look. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
Chance spread his arms wide and grinned. “Take as long as you need, darlin’.”
He watched as she crossed to the first row of cars and paused to survey them. While her back was turned, he strolled to where the motorcycles were parked and threw a leg over the leather seat of a low-slung, black Harley. He turned the key, taking a perverse satisfaction in the way she visibly started at the rumble of the deep, throaty engine. Twisting sideways, he withdrew a half helmet from a saddlebag and dangled it on the end of one finger.
“This is yours?” she asked, disbelief written across her face as she walked toward him.
“You still think you know my type?”
To his relief, she merely gave him a tolerant look and accepted the proffered head gear. Chance secured his own helmet, before glancing at Jenna, who stood watching him.
“Climb on,” he invited, and rose to a standing position to give her more room. When she’d settled herself behind him, he sat down, acutely aware of her long legs bracketing his hips. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “I have a jacket in the saddlebag. You’re welcome to use it.”
In answer, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. His stomach muscles involuntarily contracted as she splayed her hands over his abdomen, and he could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his back. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she spoke directly into his ear, her warm breath fanning his cheek.
“I’m sure I’ll be warm enough.”
Chance nearly groaned, his body registering the heat of her palms and the pressure of her thighs, aware of every breath she drew. He eased the bike backward out of the parking spot and then accelerated toward the open road, gratified when she clutched at him and hung on even tighter. From the moment he’d spotted her sitting at the bar, she’d intrigued him. She stood out from the other women in the club, and not just because of her height.
He liked her long, slim body and the way she seemed completely comfortable in her own skin. She didn’t slouch or try to disguise the fact that she stood a head taller than most other women. She walked with the loose-limbed gait of an athlete, but Chance could easily envision her wearing an elegant evening gown … or better yet, some sexy number involving a thong and thigh-high, sheer stockings that emphasized the length of her legs. She wore a minimal amount of makeup, and her hair hung in sleek waves around her face, the lights of the club picking out the red highlights in the thick, brown tresses. She looked reserved and unapproachable, almost haughty.
Until she looked at him.
Then her expression turned hungry. Like she knew what she wanted and to hell with anyone who stood in her way.
Good thing she was just passing through. Her eyes, cool and carnal, made him want to do decadent things with her. He itched to bury his hands in her hair and muss the sleek waves. He wanted to wipe the sheen of gloss from her lips with his mouth. He wanted those mile-long legs wrapped around his waist.
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had such a visceral response to a woman. He couldn’t even blame it on alcohol, since he’d had only one beer. But he’d seen the way the other guys eyeballed her, and he’d been gripped with an overwhelming need to keep her to himself, away from the loud music and artificial atmosphere of the club. He didn’t need to get any crazy ideas about seeing her again after tonight, which should have made him feel relieved. But the thought of not seeing her again roused an uncomfortable, unfamiliar emotion that felt suspiciously like regret. And that alone was enough to convince him that he shouldn’t see her again.
They roared along the familiar streets with her hugging his back until they came to a convenience store. Pulling the Harley up to the curb, he turned off the engine and removed his helmet.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, easing himself from the bike. Without her warmth surrounding him, he felt chilled.
Inside the shop, he selected a bottle of wine from the cooler and helped himself to a couple of paper cups from the coffee bar. When he came back out, Jenna had scooted forward on the seat and had her hands firmly on the handle-grips. Her long legs easily reached the ground and she looked as if she belonged there. His rampant imagination conjured up images of her lounging back on the Harley wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of four-inch stilettos.
“Mind