LITMIR.BIZ

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bring her around to admitting that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Five, ten minutes tops and he’d be reveling in the pleasure of her again.

      A few seconds later he knocked again.

      He didn’t have to look at his watch to know it was 1:00 a.m. Just like he didn’t have to look at her brightly lit windows to know she was still up.

      He waited a few more seconds, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

      “You might as well answer,” he told her machine when it picked up. “I’ll stay here all night. Patience is a particular virtue of mine, remember? I can last all night, babe. You know that. Even when you’re naked, gyrating over me and driving me crazy, I can hold out. Actually, I like waiting. It’s like a personal test, to see how many times I can make you come before I can’t control myself anymore.”

      Before he could detail all the things he’d liked that she did to push that control, the door swung open. Blake grinned.

      Alexia’s glare was lethal.

      Her hair, sleek and sexy just hours ago, was brushed out in a wild frizz so it haloed her face like an angry red cloud.

      Her face was scrubbed clean, the siren’s glow that’d matched her evening dress completely eradicated. All that was left was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and smudged remnants of mascara under her furious eyes.

      His lips twitched. Was this girl-battle 101? Make the enemy think they don’t want the goods so they walk away without bothering to engage?

      Nope.

      His gaze skimmed the huge sweatshirt, noting that Jon Bon Jovi was still sporting the big curls and guyliner. The faded gray fabric enveloped her so well, her curves disappeared. Frayed cotton shorts drooped to her knees.

      Her toenails were still a glittery, sexy red, though.

      Her legs smooth and silky looking.

      Her translucent skin flushed with anger, she was just as sexy now as she’d been wrapped in that tiny bikini on the beach.

      Not a chance he’d walk away.

      He wanted those goods.

      “We need to talk,” he said. The sooner they did, the sooner he could strip ole Jon off her body and get down to worshipping those toes.

      “Talk? You know the concept?” she asked, not shifting out of the doorway.

      “I’ve been introduced to it a time or two,” he said drily. Figuring she’d negotiate better if she thought she was calling the shots, he didn’t push her to let him inside. Instead, he leaned against the door frame and gave her a charming smile.

      She automatically stepped back, glowered, then stood her ground again. Damn, she was cute.

      “I think the opportunity to talk has passed. I’m sure, as a military man, you’re aware of how many battles have been lost not because of mistakes, but because of timing.”

      Blake wasn’t sure if it was because he knew Pierce was her father, or if it was her tone of voice, so precise, cold and similar to the admiral’s, but the resemblance between them was remarkable at that moment.

      “I don’t let other people’s mistakes dictate my decisions,” he told her. “And I’ve never lost a battle.”

      “Well, you won’t be able to say that again, will you?” she taunted with a chilly smile.

      Blake’s smile wavered for a second. He’d figured she’d be angry, but this was a little over the top.

      “Would you mind clarifying something for me?” he asked, running low on charm. Not waiting for her response, he continued, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t cheat my way into your bed. I didn’t even make any promises. I was respectful, honorable and up-front.”

      He waited for her to acknowledge his largesse. Instead, she slammed her arms across her chest and glared.

      Wow. Talk about standing guard over that mountain she’d constructed from a tiny pile of dirt.

      “So, what’s the deal?” he asked when he saw that’s all he was going to get. “Why are you so angry?”

      There.

      The facts, simply laid out and incontrovertible.

      He didn’t expect an apology right away. He figured pride, the baffling twists of a woman’s mind and maybe a little embarrassment at overreacting would have to be worked through first. He could wait.

      His gaze skimmed her shapeless, colorless outfit again and his blood heated. He sure hoped she’d let him in so he could enjoy himself while he waited.

      “Ah, those fine lines,” she mused, relaxing enough to lean against the edge of the door she still gripped and crossing one ankle over the other. “The only problem with your argument is that you’re ignoring intention. Communication isn’t just the words we say, it’s the message we intend to share.”

      “I don’t want to sound crude, but what I intended to share was my body with yours. A good time, a lot of incredible sex and, as we spent more time together, maybe a chance to build more,” he countered, reaching out to take her hand. He shoved his impatience back, telling himself this was part of what made her so appealing. Her fiery nature.

      Then she moved her fingers away. His brow furrowed. But when she didn’t close the door any farther he let himself start to relax. Almost there.

      “Oh, yes, the wonders of sex. It was great, wasn’t it?” she said, her smile wicked. He shifted, starting to feel a little nervous when it didn’t reach her eyes. “And we both had the same intentions when it came to that. But one of us, unlike the other, hid pertinent facts in order to have all that great sex.”

      “I didn’t hide a damn thing,” he denied, starting to get irritated.

      “No? You didn’t hide your job, your lifestyle, your affiliation? Given that being a SEAL requires a level of dedication that’s steeped in the blood, not sharing that was a deliberate choice on your part. Since I’d made my feelings about being involved with a military man clear, I can only assume that choice was made with the intention of hiding your career from me.”

      She sounded like a freaking lawyer. Or worse, he realized, gritting his teeth, a psychologist.

      “You didn’t share your last name,” he countered.

      “You’re right.” She inclined her head, the move sending her halo of frizzed-out curls wafting around her face. “And that makes me loose and easy. Which is still better than a liar in my book.”

      That was enough. Blake straightened, giving her a dark look. Name-calling? That’s the best she could do?

      “Look, you have some issues with your father. I get that. And I know he pissed you off with his little matchmaking game. But what does it matter? We’re great together. You’re not going to toss that away over him, are you? Because, what? You have some kind of Pavlovian response, automatically rejecting whatever your father approves of?”

      As the words cleared his lips, Blake cringed.

      She froze. Everything except her eyes. Those were like fire. She gave him a long, slow once-over before meeting his gaze again. This time he almost stepped back. “Well, aren’t you clever? Throwing out those psych terms like an expert. Clearly you’ve got it all figured out. So tell me, Blake... Do you know the meaning of closure? How about inductive reasoning? Or here’s a simple one. Goodbye.”

      She didn’t wait for his response before stepping back and slamming the door shut in his face.

      Damn.

      Furious with himself, Blake glared at the closed door.

      He deserved to get shot down over that one.

      Dammit, he’d just wanted a space from the memories, a chance

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