pity. Maybe Brad felt some of the same attraction, the same feelings she struggled to contain.
“Don’t you think I was attracted to you when we worked together, Joy? Do you think you were the only one who felt it? Felt—” he stroked the side of her neck “—this?”
His breath was warm on her face and she burned for him. It was as if every hour she’d spent fantasizing about him, about being together, was concentrated in this single moment.
BRAD HAD DREAMED of kissing Joy since the minute he’d realized they could have more than a lawyer-client relationship. They’d needed each other in Norfolk. He’d needed her to help him free Farid. She’d needed him to help get her client released from an unjust incarceration.
“We’re both out of the Navy now, Joy. No more ‘ma’am’ and ‘Chief.’ It’s just you and me, plain Brad and Joy.”
Back in Norfolk he’d counted on her to do her job and to make sure he didn’t implicate himself in any wrongdoing by defending a man who’d associated with known terrorists, albeit for the right reasons.
She’d been an officer, he an enlisted man. A relationship was off-limits even if the case hadn’t been an obstacle between them. And he’d had to end his engagement to Marci; he wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other woman until he took care of that.
But she’d tempted him. Joy’s strength of character, her intelligence and her beauty—Joy—called to him each and every damned day they’d worked together. At first he’d blamed it on months of not getting laid. Then he told himself it was because she was the only woman he was with on a consistent basis. At the end of a particularly grueling day, he’d almost leaned against a concrete wall and pulled her toward him for a kiss. He’d blamed it on not having access to regular workouts, but he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the reason.
He’d fought his attraction to Joy for too long.
And now she stood here in front of him, her dark eyes reflecting her desire. He couldn’t take his gaze from her crimson lips, lips that emphasized the translucent ivory of her skin.
He kissed her.
He had to keep this gentle. Easy, simple. A kiss, no more. Curiosity playing out between former colleagues who shared an extraordinary chemistry.
Joy moaned, and his good intentions went to hell.
He pressed her against the counter with his hips and had his tongue in her mouth before he could give himself a chance to second-guess any of it. She reacted in the most womanly fashion as she pushed back into him. Soft, smooth, hot.
They fit together so damned well. It was more than he’d imagined. It was more than lust. It was an attraction born of mutual respect and understanding of the other person and what they both stood for.
The temptation to take that kiss to the conclusion he’d fantasized countless times was just about overwhelming.
A hissing sound invaded the cloud of lust surrounding him, and he felt Joy’s hands on his chest but he kept kissing her. The side of her neck was softer than any silk.
“Brad.” She choked out his name, her voice rising in pitch.
“Kiss me, Joy,” he muttered. “Just kiss me.”
There was that hiss again.
“Brad.” A firmer shove.
“What?”
“The noodles. They’re boiling over.”
He let her go and she turned, still in his arms, and shut off the flame under the overflowing pot. The starchy smell of burned pasta filled the kitchen, and he fought coming back to the reality of where they were, what was ahead of them.
Because all he wanted to do was keep kissing Joy.
* * *
JOY PUSHED HER hair out of her face with shaky hands, but she knew her knees were even shakier. When Brad’s tongue had licked her lips, it was as though the ground she stood on had been shaken by one of those earthquakes that occasionally hit the West Coast.
All from one kiss. A kiss that was far more potent than any in her dreams.
She grabbed the sides of the pasta pot and squealed.
“Ouch!”
“Pot holders would be good.”
Just like that, Brad was back to being the stalwart guy. He could act unperturbed but he’d felt what had passed between them as much as she had. She’d felt his heartbeat increase and felt the unmistakable erection under those too-sexy cargo pants.
“This is going to be mush.” She poured the over-done noodles in the colander and placed the pot back on the stove to cool.
“It’ll be great.” He sounded...relaxed. As if he felt as comfortable being here as she did having him. As if no time had passed...
“You’ve been out of the active duty Navy for almost a year,” she said. “Did it ever occur to you to call me?”
“Yes.”
Don’t ask the question if you’re not ready for the answer.
For once she listened to her mother’s wisdom.
* * *
SO HE DIDN’T want to discuss why he’d never called, never did more than “friend” her on Facebook.
She was an adult, no stranger to relationships that had no future. Take Jonas. They should’ve been able to maintain a casual, Navy friends-with-benefits relationship. A lot of her female colleagues enjoyed the opportunity to date without expectations.
She hadn’t lied to Serena. She and Jonas had never gotten past a few dates, very casual ones, at that—a meetup at the gym for a workout or at a local coffee spot. No romance involved. Her heart hadn’t been in it. Neither had Jonas’s, apparently, as he’d come back from the last of several career deployments to get engaged to Serena. Another work colleague, Dennis, was her perfect match on paper. He was a JAG, too, a lawyer who understood the demands of the job. But again, she’d never felt as much as a tiny sizzle with him.
Brad was different. Her attraction to him was something she’d never experienced before—not this elemental, damn the torpedoes, full-speed-ahead kind of desire. The frightening part for her was that it had started when they worked together, when a relationship was against Navy regs.
He’d never given any indication that he wanted anything from her but her legal expertise.
Except for that searing kiss five minutes ago.
So why did she feel this niggling sense of rejection?
As she sprinkled the remaining Gruyere and cheddar on top of the noodles, meat and sauce in the greased baking dish, she glanced at Brad.
Zip. Nada. His expression was back to the one she’d lived with for six months, working alongside him. Professional, detached, uncompromising.
“It strikes me as odd that an FBI agent has no one in his organization he can trust when his back’s against the wall. Don’t you have a partner?” she asked.
“My partner’s on family leave. His wife just had twins, and he’s taking several weeks off. I’ll be provided with a temporary partner once I get back to my regular routine. Right now my boss and the higher-ups wanted someone with war experience in this part of the Pacific Northwest. We’ve had reports for months that suggest a homegrown terrorist group’s been targeting either NAS Whidbey or Port Everett, or both. With my background I was the obvious pick to go undercover.”
“And you wouldn’t necessarily do that with a partner, anyhow.”
“Right.”