Guilt, sharp and cutting, sliced through Alexia’s sexual fog. She had no reason to feel bad. There was no commitment between her and Edward, either concrete or implicit. It was stupid to feel guilty. Just because she’d spent the previous couple of nights rolling around naked in the sand, surf and sheets with the hottest, sexiest, most passionate man she’d ever met instead of calling the guy who wanted her to be his one and only?
She winced. Nope. No reason for guilt.
Michael’s nudge reminded her that he was waiting for an answer. Since this probably wasn’t the right moment to share her emotional confusion, she shrugged and went for humor instead.
“Are you kidding? Bring a date to a family affair?” she whispered back in mock horror. “That’s never a good idea.”
“It’d help you decide if you want to take the relationship plunge, though,” Michael mused quietly. “What better way to see what a guy’s made of than let him go up against the old man? If he caves, you know he’s a wimp. If he cozies up, you know he’s an ass.”
Alexia shrugged. The only measure of her father she cared about was that any guy she was in a relationship with was nothing like the man who’d sired her. Other than that, she didn’t care how he acted around the admiral.
She was just about to ask Michael to run interference once the toast ended—so she could slide out the door—when she caught the steely disapproval in her mother’s stare. Alexia subtly nudged her brother, who straightened, too, both of them shifting their fake-smiling faces toward center ring as their father started speaking.
As the cadence shifted, winding down, she felt some of the tension seeping from her shoulders, out her fingers. They were in the end zone. She focused in on the words, listening to her father thank a laundry list of dignitaries, ranking officers and political cronies for their support of his career over the last four decades.
She leaned toward Michael.
“Think he’ll include us?” she whispered.
“Nah,” he whispered back. “The only time we come up in a speech is in terms of the challenges and struggles he’s had to overcome.”
“As soon as this is over, I’m outta here,” she muttered.
“Not so fast. Remember, we’re part of the receiving line. You have to stand and smile until everyone’s done worshipping—I mean, congratulating Dad. Besides, you should stick around.” Michael’s smile was pure delight. “I’ll bet your night improves.”
“I’m sure it will.”
Just as soon as she got out of here and called Blake. She surreptitiously glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting it was already eleven-thirty.
Why couldn’t her father have toasted goodbye to all his glory at a reasonable hour, instead of pushing it to the limits and forcing everyone to stay so late? She glanced around. Most of the guests were pretty darned old. They probably wanted warm milk and their beds instead of a boring speech and champagne.
Skimming the crowd, her gaze flew right past one particular face. Then, her brain screaming a warning, her eyes flew back so fast she probably lost a few lashes.
Blake?
Brow furrowed, she shook her head in denial.
What was he doing here?
Then her focus widened. Horror filled her with a cold, icy sort of misery.
No!
Her eyes bounced from his uniform to the medals glinting off his chest, back to his face and then to the crowd of men he was standing with. SEALs.
Navy SEALs.
The man who’d driven her crazy, who had her thinking forever thoughts and craving a relationship, the one who made her want to play house—naked—was also the one thing, the only thing, on her forbidden-relationship list. Military. Elite military, and up until one speech ago, under her father’s command.
How had she missed the signs?
Why hadn’t he told her?
And when the hell would these speeches be over so she could run away?
* * *
BLAKE WATCHED the expressions chase across Alexia’s face. Shock, then disbelief, quickly followed by fury. Then she shifted. Her body weight, the tilt of her head and her expression. It was as if she’d slammed the door shut.
Shit.
As much as he wanted to avoid any matchmaking from the admiral, he was equally determined to hold on to the sweet, pleasurable oblivion Alexia’s body provided.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, he silently urged his commanding officer, knowing the longer Alexia had to stew, the harder it would be to charm her out of her snit.
Thankfully, the older man chose that moment to raise his glass in thanks. Blake absently followed along with the rest of the room, raising his, as well. But his eyes didn’t leave Alexia.
A good thing, because as soon as the crowd shifted, she lost herself in it. Clearly, growing up with military influence had taught her a thing or two.
Of course, Blake had some pretty solid training on his side. He noted the direction she was going, then skirted the outside of the crowd, cutting her off before she reached the door.
He placed his hand on her shoulder with just enough pressure to stop her escape. She hissed, a sound like cold water being thrown on a sizzling fire.
Blake dropped his hand.
“Surprise,” he said quietly, suddenly very aware that they were surrounded by her family and his superiors. None of whom needed any details as to his and Alexia’s relationship. “I didn’t realize you were Admiral Pierce’s daughter.”
“And I didn’t realize it mattered who my father was.” Her tone was as cold as her eyes. A temperature he’d have sworn a woman as hot as she was could never drop to.
“It doesn’t,” he said, dancing out of that trap. Alert, knowing there were more to come, he weighed his words carefully. “I hadn’t realized we had mutual interests.”
She gave him a long, considering look that made him wish he was in combat gear.
“I hadn’t, either. That’s one of those things that usually comes up in conversation. Which is another thing we never had.”
Blake shifted to block her exit again.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Away.”
Blake had swum through the Arctic Ocean once and swore it’d been warmer than her tone. Brows arched, he gestured to the open French doors.
“Why not go this way, then?” he suggested. “We can talk.”
“No.” Lips pressed so tight together they were white at the edges, she took a long, deep breath through her nose, then exhaled slowly. “No, thank you. I’d rather not go out on the patio. I’d rather not talk. I prefer to go home.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I prefer to go alone.”
Before Blake could counter that, they were interrupted.
“Lieutenant,” the admiral greeted with the biggest smile Blake had ever seen on his face. The empty champagne flute in his hand might factor in, but retirement probably didn’t hurt.
“Sir.” Blake shifted aside just a little so the older man could talk to his daughter. But instead of words, Pierce’s smile dimmed and all he offered his daughter was a nod.
Then, proving that a dozen or so toasts hadn’t affected his perception, his gaze shifted back and forth between them. “The two of you have met already?”