he hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding in.
“Both,” Blake said. “Dinner and dancing. I’m traditional that way.”
“Ah.” The guy’s smile didn’t shift, his attitude didn’t change. But his nod made it clear he’d got the message that he wasn’t Blake’s type. “Then I guess it’s a draw.”
“You’ll have to excuse Michael,” the redhead said. “He’s a nothing-ventured, nothing-gained kind of guy.”
“Can’t fault him for that.”
“You’re sweet,” she decided softly, her smile flashing bright. At first glance, her features weren’t traditionally beautiful. They were too striking, too bold. Eyes almost too large for her face were direct under a slash of dark brows. Her jaw was strong, her lips full with an obvious underbite that spelled all kinds of sexy to Blake’s suddenly wide-awake libido.
A red-rose tattoo on her shoulder twined down her biceps, twisting and circling. Her body, hot enough to make a man grateful for summer, was stunning. Packaged in a tiny purple swimsuit that hugged and highlighted curves, he suddenly wished like hell he’d met her another time. One when he could lavish on her every bit of attention she deserved.
Blake was the kind of guy who’d built his career on doing the right thing. Who lived his life by the rules. He not only followed the book, but double-checked it to ensure the rules he was following were exactly as written.
Anal?
It worked for him.
At least, it had.
The image of Phil flashed through Blake’s mind, the last thing he’d seen from his buddy was his big, cheesy grin just before the shrapnel had pierced his helmet.
Phil had followed the rules.
The entire team had, to the letter.
And they’d still lost their teammate.
Overwhelmed by the memory, Blake turned to stare toward the ocean, trying to find peace again. The water wasn’t giving any up, though. Of its own volition, his gaze returned to the stunning redhead.
She didn’t look like the kind who followed rules.
Maybe that’s what he needed right now.
His eyes traveled over the smooth golden skin of her bare belly, noting the tiny strings tying her bikini bottoms to her slender hips. His body stirred. Blood pumped. For the first time in two weeks, he felt alive.
He’d come here to heal, though.
And as much as losing himself in a body as lush and welcoming as Alexia’s appealed, he knew better. A smart man fighting demons avoided addictive substances. Alcohol, drugs, gambling. Gorgeous, sexy women. Anything that let a man numb himself to the memories.
Blake’s body screamed a number of ugly epithets at him. Ten years in the navy meant it had a ton to choose from. Still, he’d put his body through worse than denying it a gorgeous woman. He’d get over it.
“Thanks,” he finally said, splitting his smile between the brother and sister. “But I’ve got to go.”
Before he could change his mind, he lifted the water bottle in acknowledgment, and strode away. And regretted every step.
“EDWARD, I’VE THOUGHT about it a lot,” Alexia said, her tone low in an attempt to keep their conversation private from the rest of the diners. After her talk with Michael on the beach that afternoon, she’d realized she had to deal with the issue before she started work the following week. “I value our friendship, it’s really important to me. But I don’t think we should risk it by trying to turn it into more.”
After uttering those totally uncomfortable words, Alexia held her breath and waited for Edward’s response. Sounds suddenly amplified, forks against plates, the rushing servers’ feet against the tile floor, even the sound of the still-warm tortilla chips sliding into salsa.
The smile not shifting on his handsome face, Edward blotted his lips with his napkin, then took a sip of his water. Buying time to sort his reaction, Alexia realized with a wince.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Nerves are natural before taking a big step in a relationship. Don’t let it worry you.”
No. Anticipation was natural. Excitement was. And sure, nerves if they were along the lines of will he like seeing me naked and is he open to kinky positions. But this stomach-churning, feet-twitching-to-run, little-voice-screaming-nooooo feeling? This wasn’t normal.
What did she have to say to get through? She really didn’t want to hurt him.
But after her reaction earlier that morning to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach, as she still thought of the hottie named Blake, there was no way she could settle for a sexless relationship. Spark, desire, passion, they were too important. It’d been all she could do not to chase the guy down the beach, throw herself at his feet and beg him to let her make up for her brother’s odd behavior by licking her way up his body.
Heck, she’d stayed so turned on and sexually charged thinking about him, she’d come twice in the shower preparing for this dinner. Clearly her subconscious was sending her a strong message that she and Edward weren’t meant to be a couple.
But he wasn’t listening to her subconscious. Or her words, for that matter. What did that say about their wavelength? Edward had a habit of believing that if he ignored something he didn’t like, it’d eventually go away. Having tried that often enough, and still having the parents to prove it didn’t work, Alexia could empathize.
“Sweetie, we have a great time together,” Edward said brightly, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his fork. His blond hair glinted in the colorful piñata-shaped lights and his perfect teeth flashed. “We’re great together. We’re on the same wavelength, totally in tune. Our interests, our goals, our values, they all click. That’s what counts, right?”
Alexia forced her lips to curve in agreement. Because he was right. They were in tune and did have a great time. But that wasn’t enough.
“That’s all important,” she said, pushing her barely tasted enchiladas aside to reach across the table and take his hand. “But those are things that make for a strong friendship. Not a...”
She couldn’t do it. Alexia wanted to pound her head on the table a few times to try to shake the words loose, but didn’t figure it’d do much good. So she took a deep sip of her pomegranate margarita—her third—instead. How was she supposed to say that she had absolutely zip sexual interest in him? She specialized in the art of subliminally messaging the center of the brain that controlled sexual response. She was about to start a job that required her to be front and center, publicly talking about how to heal and stimulate sexual responses. How could she work with test subjects and expect people who’d had sexual trauma to trust her to help them if she couldn’t even talk about her own sexual needs?
“Look,” Edward said, twining his fingers with hers. “I know what you’re worried about. That mythical spark isn’t blazing between us. You think there should be some energy, some physical manifestation of attraction.”
It was all she could do not to throw her hands in the air and say duh.
“And you don’t?” She’d worked enough in the field of sexual health to know there were men who couldn’t perform. Others whose libidos were so low, they had no interest in sex. But she wouldn’t have thought that Edward fit that category. He was a geek, sure. And a little socially awkward sometimes. But if he had issues, he wouldn’t hide them. He’d self-diagnose and dive into treatment, using himself as a test subject.
“Our species was made to experience sexual connections,” she said, shifting the discussion into scientific mode instead of personal, and instantly relaxing. “You know the statistics