Setting the plate on the table, Anna reached for the drawer at the end of the counter and grabbed some paper napkins. She set them on the table just as the coffee was done. She poured two mugs, setting sugar and creamer into the middle. She then went to the fridge, got out yogurt, and snagged a powdered sugar shaker and the butter dish as she came back and set everything down.
Taking a seat across from him, she reached for the creamer and added it to her coffee. He drank his black, so he just took a sip and leaned back. Sunlight caught in her long lashes and brought out the gray in her eyes as she looked at him.
She reached out and accidentally tipped over the powdered sugar container. He tilted his head and held her gaze for an instant, then set down his mug and added three pancakes to his plate before passing her the dish. Flustered, she took the plate. He slathered butter on his pancakes, then sprinkled the powdered sugar on from the shaker she’d righted.
He wasn’t one to let things go. He liked to be direct so that everyone was on the same page. He met her gaze.
He stared at her for a moment, then said quietly, “What’s up, luv? Why so jumpy?”
Her expression froze and she went so still, it was as if she wasn’t even breathing. There was a long, electric silence, her agitation almost palpable. Then she abruptly looked down. “Nothing,” she said, her tone artificially bright and her face carefully arranged into a non-expression.
He ate a couple bites of pancakes, then took a sip of his coffee, considering how to play his hand. “Nothing because you don’t want to tell me or nothing because there’s really nothing and you’re acting strange just because…it’s morning?”
“You don’t want to know, Sir Oliver.”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. He had to admit she was deftly trying to avoid answering his question, but he wasn’t that easy to shake. Leaning back and considering her a moment, he could almost feel her squirm. He was also very good at maneuvering. “If there’s something going on, I do want to know. We’re in this together for the long haul.”
Her head came up and her gaze riveted on his face, her eyes a little brighter. She took a heavy breath. “Okay, I have these dreams about you…almost every night.” A low sound wrenched from her. “So, I’m really turned on when I get up in the morning.” She lifted her chin and gave him one of her cool looks. “I’m trying to get past that by my chatter. Is that okay with you?”
O-kay… “Um…yeah…” he said, clearing his throat and swallowing hard. Experiencing a fierce, almost primal feeling like he wanted to leap across the table and do what he’d been trying to avoid for what seemed like an eternity, Dodger forced himself to keep his hands loose in his lap, the need to touch her almost unmanageable. Sometimes he could curse Max to hell for being her brother.
His gaze strayed back to her. Those direct eyes and her words made him stupid—because it was nothing but stupid to be so wound up about her…and those words.
I’m really turned on when I get up in the morning.
He had no business even repeating those words back to himself. Protecting her, yes. Helping her, yes. Fucking her, bloody yes…dammit no. Bollocks, those words were driving him crazy, but the memory of Max’s evil eye was a definite deterrent.
She licked powdered sugar from her full lips—luscious. She smelled sweet and he bet she tasted sweet. Definitely edible. He had to go back to the team with at least that shred of integrity still intact, didn’t he?
He should probably just give in. So, what if he lost his last shred of integrity? He at least would have her, and it was what she wanted. She was dreaming about him for fuck’s sake. If only he could be sure he wouldn’t break her heart.
Or that she wouldn’t break mine, a small voice whispered. Shut the fuck up!
He’d only mixed sex and his heart one time, the one time he got caught and he regretted it, even now. It had hurt so damn much.
So, maybe the whole I-can’t-have-her-because-of-the-team-code was nothing more than a smokescreen to hide behind.
Even Max didn’t think his intentions were true. He was probably right.
In the end, wasn’t this between Dodger and Anna?
He took the last bite of his pancake, chewed, and swallowed. “There would be only two ways I’d consider getting naked with you, Anna.”
It was her turn to swallow hard.
“Oh, yeah? Would one of them be when hell freezes over and the other not a snowball’s chance in hell?”
He smiled and leaned forward. “Heat would be involved, but no. One—it would be temporary. I don’t do long-term.”
Her eyes flashed. “And the other?”
“Two is very important and as non-negotiable as one. Max and the team must never, ever find out.”
So much for his damn principles.
She got up from the table and cleared her plate. He watched her, but she gave nothing away. She was damn good at it. He couldn’t tell if she was thinking about his proposal or just mad as a wet hen.
She started out of the kitchen and he said, “Anna?”
She stopped with her back to him, her hand going to the frame and clenching around the wood. Without turning around, she said, “We’re in a terrible situation here. Right now, I’m compromised and the last thing I should be thinking about is getting involved with you. Let’s keep this professional. I’ll deal with my dreams and you can let yourself right off that hook you’ve so effectively hung yourself on. God forbid something besides the brotherhood should come first in your life. I hope you enjoy your sweaty, hairy, drinking, talking war stories, barbecuing, combat-loving, alpha rope-pissing-contest man-love. I’m going to take a shower, then we’re going to have an argument.”
Dodger sat there reeling like he’d been run over by a ten-ton truck.
Oh, yeah, he was sure now that she had jumped over the wet hen mad fence and gone straight to junkyard dog blood boil.
Wait. What had she said…argument? Oh, bloody hell. Another one?
He rose and did the dishes. He caught a whiff of her fresh scent even before her shower. Who’d have thought the wafting scent of citrus could give a guy a raging hard-on? Or was it the fact that she was dreaming about him? He just didn’t know. All he was sure of was his aching blue balls.
He was so in trouble here, and the least of it was this mishmash with the Navy and the CIA.
Anna couldn’t believe his answer to her telling him she was turned on after her dreams was, Um…yeah.
What the heck did she expect? She closed her eyes as the water cascaded over her. She needed some time alone to get herself in order. Not to mention getting her physical reaction to him under control.
Anna had thought he’d dominated her thoughts and dreams, but his presence in real life was so much bigger than she could have imagined. He filled up her small kitchen with his larger than life presence, and jeez Louise, he was so charming. She had sorely underestimated just how big a presence he truly was.
But he pissed her off, and she’d lost her temper. That was Max’s thing, not hers. Damn her brother for being so intimidating and treating her like she was a child who needed to be protected from the raw desires of a gorgeous, muscled man. She was a grown woman. She would shock the socks off Max with the depth of her raw desire and what she wanted to do with Dodger. It just irritated her that Dodger didn’t seem to care. He was probably right that they needed to back off from getting physical with each other, but he could at least act like it was costing him a little.