The Maverick Page 5

  Guy shot her another smile, then exited the truck, rounded the hood and opened her door for her. Good manners, she thought, wondering where he’d learned them. His mother, most likely, yet it was hard to imagine this man ever being a baby or even a little boy. Her lips twisted. He could hardly spring fully grown from the womb, though, so she knew he had to have been, at one time or another, a least a little vulnerable.

  He fell in beside her as they walked toward the restaurant. “I hope you like Italian,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  The mouthwatering scent of fresh garlic, oil olive and marinara hung in the air, making her belly rumble. Candle light sparkled from small square tables draped in red-and-white checked clothes. “You wouldn’t have to hope if you’d asked,” she pointed out, trying to appear less affected than she had been by that kiss.

  Guy smiled, completely unrepentant. “Is that your way of telling me that you don’t like it?”

  They waited to be seated. “No, that’s my way of telling you that you should have asked me where I would like to go.”

  “I wasn’t aware that this was a date.”

  Julia chewed the inside of her cheek and glared at him. “I wasn’t either until you kissed me.”

  He grinned and an admiring gleam twinkled in that smooth jade gaze. “Touché. Do you like Italian?” he asked solicitously.

  Julia nodded primly. “As it happens, I do.”

  He put a knuckle in the small of her back, causing a ripple of gooseflesh to zip up her spine, and nudged her forward, after the hostess. “Excellent. Then I made a wise choice.”

  Despite it being high-handed, yes he had, Julia thought as they were seated. Fresh herbs, oil and bread appeared at their table almost instantly, followed by a nice bottle of wine. The atmosphere was warm and casual and the aroma of good authentic Italian food wafted on the breeze of slowly turning ceiling fans. Julia ordered the spinach ravioli and a Caesar salad, then sat back and watched Guy peruse the menu with a practiced eye.

  God, the man was too handsome for words, she thought, her gaze inexplicably drawn to those beautiful lips she’d been tasting only moments ago. “I’ll have the grilled lamb with salsa verde,” he said, closing his menu. “And a Caesar salad, also.” Smiling, his gaze returned to Julia as soon as the waitress moved away. “So, why did you and Warren break up?”

  Because I suck in the sack, Julia thought, and almost blurted out the humiliating truth. Her wine glass paused halfway at her lips and she looked at Guy above the rim. Tension knotted her belly. “Back to that, are we?”

  “You’ve never answered me.”

  She swallowed. “That’s because it’s none of your business.”

  He tore off a piece of bread and dredged it in herbs and oil, then smiled at her before popping a bite into his mouth. “We’re dating now, so it is.”

  She chuckled despite herself. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, we aren’t dating,” Julia said, with an exasperated eye roll. “I was only needling you because you were rude. We kissed, Guy. That’s it.” She congratulated herself when no bolt of lightening accompanied the lie.

  “For now,” he murmured enigmatically, causing her heart to skip a beat. “If you aren’t going to tell me why you two broke up, I suppose I’ll simply have to start guessing.” He paused, gave her a speculative look. “Despite the fact that you’re incredibly beautiful, you’re hiding a hideous deformity beneath that long skirt. Is that it?”

  He was insane, Julia decided, warming at the “incredibly beautiful” remark. “No,” she said, poking her tongue in her cheek.

  “I’ll look later,” he said confidently.

  Honestly, she’d like to get a look at his balls, because the guy had a brass set that was for damned sure.

  He made a grand show of pondering her once more. “Any odd fetishes Lord Boring couldn’t handle?” An exaggerated frown wrinkled his brow. “You’re not into toe-sucking are you?”

  She choked on a laugh. “No.”

  “Spanking?”

  “No.” Sorry. Pain in any shape, form or fashion didn’t do it for her. She couldn’t stub her toe without the entire neighborhood hearing her wail.

  He hummed under his breath and leaned back in his chair, his expression turning endearingly dejected. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

  “Why is it so important?”

  “Because I find stupidity fascinating and the guy would have to be a complete moron to let you go.”

  Julia stilled, taken aback by the blunt but flattering assessment. That had to be one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. Her eyes inexplicably watered and she pretended to sneeze into her napkin so that she could wipe her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then a thought struck. “What makes you so sure that he cut me loose and not the other way around?”

  A droll smile rolled around his lips. “You weren’t dressed like a woman who was going to give someone the kiss-off last night, were you?”

  Oh, yeah. God, how humiliating. For a moment she’d actually forgotten that he’d stored that embarrassing mug shot on his cell phone, that he knew that she’d tried to break into Warren’s house and that he’d been the one to bail her out of jail.

  But if he knew all of that, he had to know that until last night she’d never been in any sort of trouble—that desperate times drove people to desperate measures. Hell, no wonder he was so damned curious. She’d be curious, too, if their roles were reversed.

  In all honesty, she hadn’t been desperate to keep Warren so much as she’d been desperate not to fail again. Which was hardly fair to Warren. Still, the ungrateful wretch should have appreciated her gesture and not ditched her for her effort. Quite honestly, she never thought he would have had the spine to do it.

  And he had been boring, Julia thought, growing more incensed by the second. He’d been a boring, snoring, soft-spoken mealy-mouthed stiff. What in the hell had she ever seen in him to start with? Julia wondered, delving into a little self-therapy. What had been the draw?

  Then it hit her—he’d been safe and manageable…just like all the other guys she’d dated, Julia realized. Or since Colton, the one and only bad boy she’d ever allowed herself to care about. He’d dated her long enough to bed her—to make her think that he gave a damn about her—then had cut and run the minute he’d “tagged” her. He’d been her first. She’d been nineteen, a college freshmen, and fresh pickings for a guy whose only goal in life had been seeing how many girls he could assembly line through his bedroom.

  God, that had been so long ago, Julia thought, still a bit stung by the rejection, but not devastated as she had been then. She stilled. Had she allowed that old heartbreak to affect all of her relationship decisions? Had the fear of being rejected again made her play it safe? To choose only guys she could conceivably control? She wouldn’t have thought so, but… The subconscious was a powerful tool, and self-preservation even more so.

  Her gaze slid to Guy once more. Now there was a heartbreaker if she’d ever seen one. Julia’s breath left her in a soft sigh. He had trouble written all over him and yet that didn’t prevent her pulse from leaping every time he aimed that smile at her. And he could fix her, Julia thought. That bone-melting kiss out in his truck had proved what she’d already suspected. When it came to the how-to’s of sex, Guy McCann was clearly an expert.

  She needed an expert.

  She needed an orgasm.

  In short, she needed him.

  “Do you really want to know why he broke up with me?” she asked.

  Guy nodded.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.” Julia tossed back the rest of her wine, drawing courage from the alcohol, then straightened her shoulders and pushed her lips into a bitter smile. “Lord Boring— Eeyore—thought I was too dull in the sack.”

  There. She’d either scared him off…or thrown down the gauntlet.

  Time would only tell which.

  5

  GUY DIDN’T KNOW what he’d expected her to say, but that sure
as hell wasn’t it. Her? The little fire cracker he’d steamed up the windows of his truck with just a few minutes ago…too dull in the sack?

  He instantly relived the feel of her tongue wrapping around his, her greedy hands kneading his scalp and shoulders, her pebbled breasts raking against his chest. Heat stirred in his loins, making his dick test the strength of his zipper.

  No fucking way.

  Either Eeyore had an off the charts kink factor—and given his hangdog expression, Guy found that very hard to believe—or he’d been too lazy a lover to satisfy Julia, then laid the blame at her door instead of claiming responsibility for his poor performance.

  That seemed more likely. He snorted and shook his head. Selfish bastard.

  Still… “Surely to God you don’t believe that,” Guy told her. She was a smart woman. She couldn’t possibly believe that idiot, particularly given her response to him just a little while ago.

  She shrugged, looking curiously resigned. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.”

  “Then you’re having sex with the wrong men. Trust me,” he said, shooting her a smile. “You’re hot.”

  Julia grinned, seemingly pleased, though a hint of skepticism still shadowed her gaze. “That’s nice of you to say.”

  “I’m not just saying it, dammit. I know. I have carnal knowledge.”

  She chuckled, propped her chin in her palm and looked away. “You have kissing knowledge. There’s a difference.”

  Tell that to his dick. Talk about hard evidence. “Close enough,” Guy said. “Eeyore’s full of shit.” He leaned back in his chair and laughed as a wonderful, purely selfish idea emerged. “I’d be willing to sleep with you to prove it,” he offered magnanimously. He lifted his glass in her direction and broodingly considered her. “Just say the word and I’m there for you, baby.”

  Julia chewed the inside of her cheek and knowing humor danced in her pale green eyes. “I’ll, uh… I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  “Seriously. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out,” she said drolly.

  His gaze tangled with hers. “I’m here to serve.” Conversation paused as their salads arrived.

  “You’re supposed to be here for Colonel Garrett, not here to service me.”

  He pulled a negligent shrug, forked up a bite of lettuce drenched in dressing. “I’m open to perks.”

  Julia let go a shallow breath and for the briefest moment he got the impression that she was actually considering it. First order of business, Guy thought—take down her hair. He didn’t know how long it was, but given the size of the bun, he imagined that it would fall over her shoulders, possibly to her breasts. Ah…

  Rosy nipple, long blond curl…

  “Well, be that as it may, I’m here to repay a debt for my father.” She grimaced. “Perks aren’t included.”

  They’d get back to that later, Guy thought. In the mean time, he wanted to troll for some other information. “Garrett mentioned that you were the daughter of an old friend. What’s the connection?” He doubted it had anything to do with his own favor, per se, but with the Colonel one never knew.

  “My father and Colonel Garrett were in the same unit in Vietnam. My dad was wounded, would have died, but Garrett carried him to safety.” She chewed the corner of her lip. “For obvious reasons, Dad was grateful. He left the military shortly after the war, but he and Garrett have stayed in touch. They’re both big Civil War buffs and belong to the same re-enactment group.”

  Guy inclined his head. He was fully aware of Garrett’s Civil War obsession. He’d sent Payne to Gettysburg several months ago to retrieve a pocket watch which had been rumored to have belonged Robert E. Lee and lost during the Battle of Gettysburg. The damned thing had been undetected for almost one hundred and fifty years and yet Payne had found it within a week—on the chest of a cross-dressing potbellied pig, no less.

  “Anyway, Colonel Garrett knew what I did for a living, that I have my own practice in Atlanta. I don’t know whether my input for this training session was his brainchild—if he’s pioneering it, so to speak—or if he’d gotten the idea from somewhere else, but he approached my father about it a little over two weeks ago.” She scooted a crouton to the side of her plate with her fork. “Dad said he’d seemed a little…not desperate—” she winced as though not sure that was the right word “—but uncharacteristically anxious, at any rate, and he asked me if I could take this week off and help him out.” She lifted a shoulder. “Knowing what he’d done for my Dad, how could I refuse?”

  How indeed? And Guy would dearly love to know what had rattled the colonel’s cage enough to make him anxious. Julia was right—that was severely out of character. And he’d be willing to bet his presence here was directly related to whatever had made the colonel uneasy.

  Guy made a mental note to contact Payne when he got back to the house tonight. Instinct told him this was an important piece of information and though they’d been in the same unit, The Specialist had contacts still within the military that Guy didn’t have access to. If he’d learned anything in this business, he’d learned that significant details could be found in the least likely of places and that Brian Payne was the best man at finding them.

  “So why do you think Garrett enlisted your help?” Julia asked. “You’re former military, right?”

  Guy nodded, smiled as their entrees were delivered. “I’m a former unit leader,” he told her, not altogether sure he wanted to have this conversation, but unable to see a way to avoid it. He carved off a bite of his lamb. “This team we’re going to be working with is the replacement for the one me and my friends were a part of.” He felt his lips twist and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “According to Garrett he wants the ‘benefit of my experience’ imparted to these new guys.”

  “Have you had a chance to look over the curriculum Garrett gave us?”

  He had. It contained the usual stuff—team-building exercises, critical-thinking skills, etcetera. Frankly, he wasn’t altogether sure what Garrett hoped to accomplish by having him here. He didn’t have anything new to impart. And the benefit of his experience? The only message he had for these guys was to expect the unexpected and know that no matter how thorough and foolproof your plan, your intel or your exit strategy, things could still go horribly, horribly wrong.

  Danny’s smiling face materialized in his mind’s eye, causing his chest and throat to tighten. He set his loaded fork aside, unable to eat, and quaffed the rest of his wine.

  Julia frowned. “Is something wrong with your meal?”

  “No,” Guy said, attempting to shake off the dread which had settled around his shoulders. “My eyes were just bigger than my stomach.”

  “Well, you’ve got to eat more than that, otherwise you’re going to make me look like a hog. This is really good,” she said, obviously enjoying her meal.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  A shadow fell over their table. “Well, I’ll be damned,” a familiar smart-assed voice said.

  Guy felt every muscle in his body tense and he looked up.

  Richard Rutland.

  The bastard he, Jamie and Payne had thrashed the shit out of right after Danny had died. The jealous SOB had wanted Danny’s spot on their team and had publicly gloated when Danny had been killed. He’d mouthed off about Danny “being stupid enough to get himself killed” and Jamie, who’d held Danny as he died and who’d carried his lifeless body back to their jeep, had roared in a rage of grief and tackled Rutland.

  Honestly, they’d always hated Rutland and had secretly wanted to deck the bastard, so a part of Guy had been thrilled that he’d finally crossed a line and given him permission to do it. Even Payne, the most even tempered of all of them, had lost it that night.

  “Guy?” Julia asked uncertainly as her wary gaze darted between the two of them.

  Guy leveled a lethal stare at Rutland. “I’m sure you are,” he said, referenci
ng the asshole’s I’ll-be-damned comment.

  Rutland rocked back on his heels and seemed secretly pleased, as though he was privy to some information that Guy didn’t have. “Well, well, well. I wondered how he meant to play it. Gotta give Garrett his due. He’s a crafty old bastard. Brass starts making noise about him losing his touch, touting the benefit of retirement and what does he do?” Rutland smirked. “He brings back the prodigal son he never had.”

  Unwilling to be baited, Guy ignored the provoking comment. “We’re eating here, Rutland. Go away.”

  Rutland bared his crooked teeth in a smile. “I don’t have to take orders from you now, former Lieutenant Colonel.”

  Guy set his fork aside and stood. His chair legs scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table and the room around them grew quiet. “You can either go away on your own, or I’ll make you.”

  Say something, Guy thought. Go ahead. I’d love to wail the shit out of you again.

  Rutland sneered at him. “I think you’d find it a lot harder without your buddies. No back up this time. Even odds, eh?”

  “Nope,” Guy said, moving farther into Rutland’s personal space. “Just more opportunities for me to hit you.” He smiled. “Off base, again, Rutland, just like old times. Only this time the only person who’d get their ass called on the carpet is you.” He paused, letting that little detail sink in. “Like I said, you can either go. Or I’ll make you. What’ll it be?”

  Predictably, Rutland backed down. Fucking coward, Guy thought, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

  “Is there a problem, gentleman?” the manager asked.

  Guy quirked a menacing brow at Rutland.

  “No,” Rutland snarled. “I was just leaving.” He flashed an evil smile at Guy. “But I’ll see you around. Count on it.”

  Guy glanced at Julia, who was sitting in frozen fascination at their table. Humiliated, no doubt, Guy thought, his own face burning, but with anger. “You ready?”

  She nodded shakily. “Er…sure.”

  He tossed enough cash on the table to cover the bill, then grabbed her hand and led her out of the restaurant, his thoughts still tangled up with Rutland’s parting comment. Count on it. Guy didn’t have any idea what the asshole had meant, but he knew—knew—that he wasn’t going to like it. He’d been too damned smug and too damned confident.