Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(30)

Once she’d joined the army, she’d been part of a team. Until she’d gone into covert ops. Her assignments put her in harm’s way by herself. There was always extraction but rarely backup. After a while she’d gotten used to looking out for herself and not expecting much of anyone else.

“Thank you,” she managed at last.

“You’re welcome. I keep running into you.”

She glanced at his hands. They were smooth, with neatly trimmed nails. No calluses, no scars. He didn’t carry a gun or even a knife. She doubted he’d ever killed anyone. No doubt he talked to his mother regularly, cared about his family, paid his taxes and drove less than five miles an hour over the speed limit.

“Want to get an ice cream?” he asked. “It’s homemade. This time of year, they have all the fruit flavors. Pear ice cream doesn’t sound all that exciting, but trust me, it’s delicious.”

She faced him, torn between what she wanted and what she knew was right.

“No one has ever asked me to get ice cream before.”

She made the statement defiantly, then waited for him to call her on it. Because she was going to tell him the truth. That men asked her for sex. Sometimes they used dinner as a pretense. Or offered money or jewelry to pay for it. She’d slept with men for her country, but rarely because she wanted to. She’d killed and walked away without looking back. She’d taken down enemy combatants, because there were a thousand places a woman could go that a soldier couldn’t.

“Then you’re overdue.”

“What?”

“For ice cream.”

He held out his hand. Just like that, as if he expected her to go with him. She should tell him to get lost, she thought. Only she couldn’t. Instead she placed her hand against his and prepared to leap into an unknown world.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KENT LED THE WAY to the food court. He couldn’t believe she’d said yes to his invitation. Not just because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he was just some guy, but because she seemed skittish—almost like a wild animal. She was an intriguing combination of ultracapable and vulnerable.

When he’d seen those two guys, he’d known they were watching a woman, but hadn’t known who. Stepping in had been his only option. When he’d realized they were following Consuelo, he’d been just as determined to protect her. Although he knew she was tough and could no doubt figure out thirty-six ways to kill them, he’d wanted to take care of her.

Now, with her small hand in his, he was both proud and nervous. He wanted everyone to notice who was with him, and at the same time, he was terrified of messing up.

She barely came to his shoulder. Her long hair tumbled down her back and shoulders in sexy curls that caught the late-afternoon sun. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, at her dark eyes, the sweet shape of her mouth. She was a fantasy come to life and he had no idea what she was doing with him.

“Where’s Reese?” she asked.

“With Carter and the new puppy. Gideon’s hoping they’ll tire each other out.”

She laughed. “I’ll bet. Felicia’s the true anchor in that family, and I’m guessing when she’s away, both her men feel adrift.”

“He’s just getting used to having a son. That has to be tough. I got to grow into taking care of Reese.”

He drew her to a stop and pointed to the rows of booths. “The choice is yours. What’s your pleasure? Tacos? Pulled pork? Ribs? Or homemade ice cream?”

She thought for a second. “I am kind of hungry. Maybe a couple of tacos and then ice cream?”

“Done.”

He went to get the tacos and drinks while she headed toward the ice-cream stand. When he tried to give her money for the food, she raised her eyebrows.

“Seriously? I can afford it. Two scoops, even.”

“I’m not saying you can’t.”

Her mouth twisted. “I know. You’re being a nice guy.”

Words designed to make him wince. Nice. He didn’t want to be nice. He wanted her to think of him as intriguing, sexy and...

Kent ordered the tacos and drinks. Who was he kidding? Him sexy? Not likely. She was every man’s fantasy. He knew the drill. Women who looked like her liked rich guys or dangerous guys or men who flew jets. They didn’t sit around dreaming about falling in love with a high school math teacher.

They met back at a table in the shade. There was a band playing just far enough away that the music was pleasant background accompaniment and they could still talk.

“Carnitas and chicken,” he said, pointing to the two plates of food. Both types of tacos had come with rice and beans, along with a handful of chips. “Which would you like?”

“Both,” she said easily, switching one of the tacos with the other. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

She wore jeans and a CDS T-shirt. No jewelry, not even a watch. She didn’t carry a handbag like other women. Her jeans were tight enough that he knew her cell phone was in her front left pocket and she had the best ass he’d ever seen, including the Victoria’s Secret special on TV and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

She picked up a taco and took a bite, then put it back down and chewed. He passed out napkins and told himself to act normal.

“You want to tell me why you’re staring at me?” she asked, her voice conversational.