Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(4)

“Hey, Emi,” he said into the phone, charm and swagger dialed to full. “Wanted to let you know that I had an amazing time the other night—”

“Five months and nine days ago.”

He flashed her a do you mind, I’m busy here look. “I’m in town for a bit and I’d love to see you. Say grab a drink, maybe after you get off work? I know the perfect place, coconut shells welcomed.”

Then he ended the call, slid the phone into his back pocket, and smiled. “You were saying?”

“You’re infuriating.”

He shrugged as though he’d been called worse, then slipped a twenty into the cash box and took a lei, a pink one, and held it out for her. She rolled her eyes.

“Now slip this flower necklace around my neck so I can go get us a drink.”

“There is no us.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” But she didn’t sound all that convinced. Maybe it was because as she said it she swayed closer. “And I’m not going on a date with you.”

Dax held out the lei and wiggled it at Emerson. When she crossed her arms and shook her head, he slid the lei over his head and winked. “Who said anything about a date?”



Normally, Dax wasn’t all that big on actively engaging the unexpected. They were called unidentified threats for a reason in his line of work—former line of work, he had to keep reminding himself, now that his career as an army Ranger was unexpectedly over. But after a month of bed rest and three weeks of dragging his sorry ass out of bed, working out until he passed out, working out some more, then crashing only to start all over again the next day, the unexpected was looking pretty tempting.

Especially since Emerson’s coconut shells and wisps of dyed straw did little to camouflage the lethal bod beneath. And that mouth. Man, that mouth was sharp and smart and, if memory served correctly, so talented it should be registered as the eighth wonder of the world.

And his memory about her mouth and that night was photographic. Sparring with Emerson was like walking into hostile territory. It put him on edge, pumped him full of adrenaline, and had him jonesing to gear up for some hand-to-hand combat.

Full-body combat with Emerson, yeah, he remembered that too. Every second. The way her skin tasted, how she gave that breathy little sigh when he got it right, which made him want to get it right over and over. And over again. He especially remembered how, for such a small thing, she liked to talk a big game during sex—often and dirty. His personal favorite was when she ordered him around.

Fifteen years in the army had taught Dax how to take an order and, in more recent years as squad leader of a highly trained and elite team of soldiers, how to issue them. But never in his life had he been turned on by a direct command.

Move those hands any slower, Ranger, and I’ll make you drop to your knees and give me twenty. And I’m not talking about pushups.

Dax found his gaze dropping to Emerson’s hands and felt his lips curl up again into what he was pretty sure was a smile. It felt odd because he hadn’t used those muscles much since being back stateside—awkward and a little rusty, but damn good.

“Oh no,” she said, pointing to his mouth, her voice taking on that feisty edge he loved. He hadn’t known her all that well growing up—she was a few years behind him in school—but he’d heard enough to know she had bite. “Aim that somewhere else. As I said, there will be no date, no repeat of that night, and absolutely no talking about it.”

“But I love it when you talk.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and when he gave those feisty lips all of his undivided attention, she closed it. Then pulled out her cell, her fingers swiping furiously across the screen. With a satisfied huff she stuck it back between her coconuts, and a second later his phone buzzed.

Not Interested in what you’re selling.

He did a little swiping of his own. Hit Send, making her dig between those pretty shells.

Your coconuts say differently.

She looked down at her shells, perfectly in place, and scowled. He slid her another wink designed to rile her, and mission accomplished. Her eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared a little, and she got an intense expression that looked really similar to the expression she wore just before she exploded.

She leaned in, providing him an inspiring view of her coconuts, and with a quiet steel to her voice, said, “You, me, Johnnie, and Jack in San Francisco. It was a fun escape.” He’d call it a hell of a lot more than fun but decided now was not the time to argue. “You and me here in St. Helena? Surrounded by the gossip mill, our crazy families, and, well, life? That sounds . . .” She shivered—and not in a good way. “Suffocating.”

“More complicated maybe, but I wouldn’t say suffocating.” Although thinking about sex with Emerson had his chest acting strangely.

“Complicated defeats the purpose,” she said. “So let’s agree that it was epic—”

“Epic, huh?”

“—and go back to being two people who happened to grow up in the same town.”

“Two people who grew up in the same town.” He tried that out, then looked at her mouth and shook his head. “Won’t work. I’ve seen that cute tattoo on your a—”

She pressed her hand to his mouth and looked around. “Well, make it work, because no one in town knows what my tattoo looks like, and I like it that way. So as long as you are here, and gossip is still the town’s leading commodity, this”—she dropped her hand to flap it between them—“is never going to happen.”