He didn’t look surprised.
“So what do you do?”
“Me?”
“Mmm.”
“What do you think I do?”
“If I had to guess…” She looked over his close-fitting T-shirt and jeans with an appreciative eye. “Personal trainer?”
His chuckle filled the night. “A personal trainer?”
“Yes. Why is that amusing?”
“So, I look dense?”
“What, are you saying personal trainers are stupid?”
He didn’t respond, merely shook his head and continued walking.
“So what do you do then?”
“I’m in security.”
She was a little more careful with her response this time. “Like a night watchman?”
His chuckle tickled her ear. “Slightly more advanced.”
“Oh?”
His answer was another smile.
“Okay. A mystery.”
“Hopefully one you don’t feel compelled to solve.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do an internet search on you.” His expression sharpened. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
A heartbeat of silence and then he offered, “Maybe you should be.”
His words struck her as odd, and her footsteps slowed until she’d stopped altogether.
5
OKAY, ON the moron-o-meter, that comment ranked somewhere between asinine and flat-out stupid.
“I’m just saying that in this day and age, well, checking someone out may not be a bad idea. The technology’s there—it’s dumb not to take advantage of it.”
“Is that what you do? Do you perform background checks?”
“No.”
She’d resumed walking and he slowed his steps to allow her to catch up.
“I’m a partner in a private security firm. We handle various aspects of a company’s needs.”
“And before that?”
“I was a Marine.”
He kept his eyes trained forward but felt her gaze on his profile for a long moment.
“I can see that,” she said quietly.
He looked at her.
“My father was a Marine,” she said.
He hadn’t known that. Of course, her background material merely noted the basics: father deceased when she was six.
“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” he said.
The light briefly left her eyes. “Yes, well, then my dad is a Marine with wings. He was killed in combat when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” She looked down at her feet and then at him. “What about your dad?”
He shrugged.
“Would you rather not talk about it?”
“There’s really nothing to talk about. I don’t know my father outside the name on my birth certificate.”
A long silence and then she asked, “Have you thought of looking for him?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Closure, I suppose.”
“I’m not even sure he knows he has a son.”
“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
“What?” He stared at her.
“I guess I worded that wrong—wouldn’t you want to know if you had a son out there?”
He’d never quite looked at it that way before.
The truth was, his mother had never really mentioned his father outside of saying he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him. He had been a one-night stand. And both his parents had been no more than sixteen at the time. Linc had been raised by his aunt.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the words out loud until Regina asked, “What happened to your mom?”
Lord. Had he ever told anyone this before? He must have at some point. But damned if he could remember. Which made it doubly interesting that he was sharing the information so easily with Regina.
“She moved to L.A. when I was an infant. I barely saw her while I was growing up. I talk to her every now and again, but for all intents and purposes, my aunt has always been my maternal figure.”
Her arm brushed against his and then she was entwining her fingers with his. He was glad for the touch and squeezed her hand. The desire to squeeze much, much more was growing with every step they took.
“My mom and I were always close,” she said quietly. “I miss her now we’re so far apart.”
“She still in Maine?”
She nodded and then looked in the opposite direction as if to keep him from seeing her expression. “I keep trying to talk her into moving out here with me, but…well, she says that’s where she was born, that’s where they’ll bury her.”
She looked sad somehow. Alone.
And Linc was surprised by the desire to protect her that surged within him.
Before he knew that’s what he had in mind, he was tugging her close and tilting her chin up so he could look directly into her face. Her mouth hung open slightly, both in surprise and, he guessed, anticipation.
He kissed her.
REGINA’S EVERY MUSCLE melted like a marshmallow over a fire. Funny, Linc seemed to taste exactly like that. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she understood that it was because he’d had a piece of Trudy’s chocolate-marshmallow pie. But right then, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything beyond the way her heart pounded an uneven rhythm in her chest, and how her mouth watered with the desire for Linc to deepen the kiss.
Then he did…
His tongue stroked hers in a slow, deliberate way that robbed her of breath and made her tighten her hands where they rested on the hard muscles of his upper arms. He leaned into her and she discovered, with a silent moan, that his arms weren’t the only hard thing she was able to feel.
The memory of having taken his long, thick length into her mouth the night before might have made her blush…but not now. Right now, all that was on her mind was the desire to enjoy tasting him without the blurriness of drink.
“Damn,” he said quietly as he broke off the kiss but made no move to resume walking.
“What?” she whispered.
He looked into her eyes and the impact was just as powerful as his kiss had been.
“I never thought I’d hear myself say these words. Your place or mine?”
Her throat was so thick she nearly couldn’t speak. “Which is closest?” she managed to whisper.
“Yours.”
“Then mine it is…”
LINC HAD BEEN THINKING about this moment ever since forcing himself to push Regina away the night before. And it was proving sweeter than he could have imagined.
Twenty minutes after their