Stand & Deliver Page 4

  “I got round two. Darya got round one while we were still at Trident.”

  Yeah, that one she remembered. Or at least most of it. And the first chance Gia got she was going to read Darya the riot act for breaking her pinkie promise. Scooting over enough to put some decent room between them, Gia tucked the covers tighter around her waist and twisted enough to make eye contact. “I’m afraid to ask how I got in my pajamas.”

  Dammit, she shouldn’t have looked. In the last three years, she’d built some seriously stout defenses against Beckett’s many expressions, but the playful one he aimed at her in that moment was the Trojan guaranteed to slip past her guard. Especially with him splayed out on her bed and comfortably rumpled by sleep. “Well, I’d have been a heartless bastard if I’d left you to sleep in your clothes...”

  Her stomach clenched, images of her passed out, drooling and as cooperative as a newborn blasting through her head.

  “...but once I asked if you could handle changing alone, you dove right in. So, I waited for you in the hall.”

  The breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding rushed out.

  Beckett chuckled at the obvious reaction and reached across the distance she’d created. Before her mind could reengage and project his trajectory, he smoothed one finger along her the line where her hip disappeared beneath the sheets. “Gotta admit, though. I was a little disappointed you were good for duty. I wouldn’t have minded helping. Not one bit.”

  It was a simple touch. A single point of contact that shouldn’t have carried such impact, but every nerve ending in her body stood up and took notice. Begged for more and drew a hundred pathways to other suggested stops needing attention. She couldn’t talk, let alone breathe. And apparently, her libido had overwritten any ideas of stopping him.

  “You make cute little noises when you sleep.”

  Her shock at his statement must have telegraphed on her expression because he kept going as if she’d verbally requested a confirmation.

  “Not quite a sigh and not a moan either. More somewhere in between.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do.”

  Was it her imagination? Or had he moved closer? “If I did, it was only because I’d had too much to drink.”

  He traced her hip through the sheet, then down to follow the outline of her thigh. “You’re also a cuddler.”

  Goose bumps lifted along her exposed skin and her breasts grew tight and heavy behind her nightgown. Even without a visual confirmation, she was absolutely certain her nipples were not only hard but embarrassingly obvious.

  “What are you doing?” A whisper was the best she could manage, every muscle locked tight and torn between scrambling further away and inching closer to his heat.

  He slid the hand he’d teased her with just above her knee and gently squeezed. Just a squeeze. Nothing more. But somehow the simple touch combined with his confidence made the contact feel erotic. A precursor that made her sex weep and ache for more. “Just making sure you’re okay.” Like he had all the time in the world at his disposal, his gaze dropped to her breasts and his startling blue eyes heated. A shift from midday-sky blue to a snapping indigo flame. “And maybe laying a little groundwork while I’m at it.”

  The depth of his voice vibrated through her. Coiled the muscles low in her belly tight...right up until his words registered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes cut back to hers, but the intensity behind them had shifted. The narrowed focus of a predator holding her as firm as a cat pinned by the scruff of her neck. “Nothing you need to worry about this morning. Later, but not right now.” In a move that should have been difficult for someone of his height and build, he rolled off the bed and strolled toward the door without so much as a backward glance. “Grab some of the coffee I started downstairs, take a long hot shower and shake the rest of last night off first.”

  Under normal circumstances, the aggressive routine would’ve ratcheted her asshole defenses to DEFCON 1, but combined with the sudden shift in topic, she found herself tossing the sheets aside, scrambling off the bed and plunking the glass of water onto the nightstand. “Before what?”

  “Before you meet me this afternoon.” He paused at the threshold, gripped the door frame and gave her a languid once-over, head to toe.

  Through sheer will, she kept her response to merely smoothing her hand down the front of her nightie instead of squirming or crawling back under the comforter. “We don’t have anything on the books for this afternoon.”

  “We didn’t. We do now.”

  “You got a job lined up between last night’s puke-fest and this morning?”

  This time when he smiled, it was pure sin. One-hundred percent wicked promise with a kick of indecency for good measure. “No, we’re gonna work out for a bit and then spar.”

  Oh, no. One of the biggest rules in her book after spying Beckett shirtless in the gym was no more sharing workout space. Keeping her cool in the field was one thing. With that much skin and muscle on display, she’d never be able to focus. “We never spar.”

  “We never have before. Doesn’t mean we can’t now. Besides, I got you home safe and sound, and even got you through a night kneeling at the porcelain throne. A good workout will make us both feel better.”

  Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the kind of workout she wanted from him. “I can’t. I’ve got a job in Houston Monday morning. I pack and fly out tomorrow.”

  “Like you need all weekend to pack for a job.” He cocked his head and whipped out the playful grin. “Although, I could see why you’d be hesitant. Me wipin’ the floor with you before a gig would probably jack with your confidence. So, yeah, maybe it’s a bad idea.”

  “You won’t wipe the floor with me.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Prove it.”

  Ugh. Stupid, arrogant, good-for-nothing men. Although, maybe she shouldn’t add stupid to the list in this instance. After all, he’d been savvy enough to know which of her buttons to push and she’d jumped right in the middle of his trap. “Fine. Where and when.”

  “My office. Five o’clock.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. She’d forgotten he had his own gym. A very private gym with almost no one around to offer distraction or buffers. Especially on a Saturday.

  She opened her mouth, praying her brain would either cough up something witty or provide a convenient out.

  “Better rest up and nurse that coffee, gorgeous,” he said before either happened. He winked and sauntered down the hallway, but not before he tossed a zinger over his shoulder. “Come tonight, all the rules you’re used to one-on-one are off the table.”

  Chapter Four

  Beckett fisted his hands on top of his desk and glared at the security monitor with its image of the parking lot empty of all but his ’Vette and Danny’s Harley. Twenty after five and no sign of Gia was not a good sign. She was never late. Hell, she was habitually early.

  Snatching his phone up off the gleaming mahogany surface, he checked his texts again, only to find the same thing he’d found the last five times he’d looked.

  Nothing.

  For a solid minute, he stared down at Gia’s number on the screen. If she’d waffled and decided not to show, the last thing she’d want would be him badgering her for reasons. But since when had Gia ever been the type to be anything but straight-up about what she did or didn’t want? A no-show didn’t make sense. He hit the button and paced his office, every ring escalating his agitation. By the time her voicemail picked up, the casing around his phone groaned a desperate protest.

  Tossing the phone back to the desk, he stood, rolled his shoulders and paced along the wide windows that fronted his half of the building he and Knox had purchased with the brotherhood’s help almost five years ago. Back and forth, he smoothed his hand against his T-shirt at his stomach. It was
the most basic of his coping techniques. A way to feed his need for sensory input and find his balance without drawing too much attention from the people around him. But this time, the simple yet practiced gesture and the exceptionally soft cotton did absolutely nothing to uncoil the ramping itch beneath his skin.

  He shouldn’t have pushed her. Ever since Beckett had let himself out of Gia’s town house this morning, the thought had dogged him nonstop. Which was weird, because his instincts when he’d woken with her tucked tight to him had been crystal clear—push the envelope just enough when she woke up to see if her revelation from the night before was true, or only the tequila talking. Then he’d walked through the door to her room and found her sitting in the middle of her king-sized bed, her soft sheets piled around her, her pretty face framed in her sleep-tousled dark hair and her dark eyes wide with confusion. He could’ve no more kept away than he could’ve stopped breathing.

  And holy hell, had she responded.

  The second her husky whispers had slipped past her lips and her nipples had hardened behind her silk nightie, his dick had not only stood up and saluted, but practically insisted it get in the game pronto. A fact she’d have no doubt seen for herself if she hadn’t been so twisted up trying to piece together what had happened the night before.

  Then he’d gone and dropped that taunt about sparring.

  He paused and checked the parking lot again, craning to check Knox’s side of the building. God, that had been a fucked-up move. Yeah, he’d nudged her competitive nature and gotten her agreement, but the second he’d slid into his car to drive away, an almost smothering doubt had assailed him. The last thing he needed was her remembering they worked together. He’d seen her fend off practically all the men they worked with in the time he’d known her, which was one of the primary reasons he’d never tried for something more.

  Well, that and the fact that she came from a polar opposite background from him. He might be doing well for himself now, but the piece-of-shit life he and Knox had scraped and clawed their way out of was a whole different reality.

  The crawling sensation wriggled stronger beneath his skin and the tension along his neck and shoulders thickened. “Fuck it.” He stomped back to the desk and grabbed his phone, thumbing up Danny’s number. While he’d never expected things to go too far this afternoon with Gia, he’d at least counted on the hand-to-hand contact to take the edge off. But if that wasn’t going to happen, then something else needed to fill the gap or he’d be bat-shit crazy by nightfall.

  That was the thing about his disorder—either he kept a tight hold on his psyche via a steady amount of touch, or his brain would overload, grab him by the emotional short-hairs and turn him into Mr. Hyde. Anything from a simple hug to a right hook would do the trick, but without Gia it’d have to be the latter ’cause he damned sure wasn’t in the mood for any other woman touching him.

  Not after last night.

  The feel of her was burned into him. The soft and trusting way she’d snuggled next to him unwinding his inner demons until it was like his SPD didn’t even exist. The drugging mix of toned muscles and sexy curves so tempting it had taken ironclad determination not to explore every inch while she slept.

  So, yeah. No women. Not until he saw where things went with her, and even then, he’d likely have to line his brothers up and let them use him for a punching bag for a good long while. Long enough for him to forget. Assuming that was even possible.

  “Yo.” Danny’s gruff voice cut through the phone line, the heaviness and preoccupied tone of it slapping Beckett with the reminder of how he’d already pawned off a sizable corporate security system install to his newest brother. “Thought you had a meeting with someone right about now.”

  “Yeah, it’s looking like they’re a no-show. How much longer till you’re done with setup? I need to blow off a little steam.”

  The clipped thunks of heavy shoes on metal sounded through the line, ladder work no doubt, given the cameras they’d planned to install for good measure. “Got at least two more hours. You gonna be able to make it that long, or should I put this job on hold?”

  Funny. Danny might be the newest man to join the brotherhood, but once he’d learned about Beckett’s need for a regular physical outlet, he’d been more than willing to trade punches when needed. Whether it was his desire to learn what Beck could teach him in the way of self-defense, or he had his own demons riding his ass, Beckett wasn’t complaining.

  Forcing himself to focus, Beckett let out a slow exhalation and rolled his head to relax the muscles in his neck. “Nah, I can make it.” At least he thought he could. There was also the option of calling Darya and seeing if he could sweet-talk her into one of those wicked good back rubs. Of course, that would mean a long stretch of Knox scowling at him while she did, because while Knox would give him anything, letting his woman soothe his best friend wasn’t something that went down easy.

  “You sure?” The sharpness in Danny’s voice said he’d stopped whatever part of the install had held his attention and was solely focused on Beckett. “It’s a Saturday. Ain’t like I’ve got someone here clocking my time. I can be there in thirty tops and circle back here when we’re done. Hell, for that matter, you can throw a hand in and we’ll finish up faster.”

  That was true. Danny had picked up the tools of the trade fast enough, but Beckett had been installing systems for years. He turned toward his desk to power down his computer and opened his mouth to answer, but the words stalled out at the site of the snappy white Lexus convertible whipping into the parking lot.

  “You there?”

  It took a good four-second delay for his brain to tug his attention away from Gia uncoiling herself from behind the wheel and all but power-strutting toward the building’s front door. How any woman could look so full of fire dressed in workout gear and a high ponytail, he’d never know, but she pulled it off.

  When he finally managed an answer, he was pretty sure his voice sounded supremely smug. “Yeah, I’m here. Turns out I’m gonna be good after all. She just showed up.”

  “She?”

  Well, hell. So much for keepin’ a lid on things. Still, every one of his brothers not only knew Gia, but adored her. Especially after all she’d done to help Natalie and Darya. He punched the electronic release that unlocked the front door. “Just meetin’ with Gia to do a little work this afternoon. No big deal.”

  A long pause echoed back at him before Danny finally spoke. “Business.”

  “Yep.” Not a complete lie. He imagined he’d have to talk a little shop before he could move them into the topic he had in mind. Or better yet, the actions.

  Danny grunted as if he wasn’t buying a lick of it. “Well, if you change your mind let me know. I’m swinging by and switchin’ to my bike before I wrap up tonight. Axel said he’s got a sweet new band booked at Crossroads tonight and thought I’d check ’em out. You game?”

  Man, he hoped not. Walking away from Gia this morning had gone against the grain on a fundamental level. If he had to do it again tonight to gain her trust, then so be it. But he’d much rather finish off the day with her as close to him as she’d been last night. “Let’s wait and see how long this thing with G goes. Stop in when you come in to pick up your bike and I’ll let you know then.”

  “You got it.” He paused a beat and his gravelly voice lifted in an audible smirk. “Have fun workin’.”

  This time it was Beckett who grunted, thumbing the end button and cutting off Danny’s low chuckle.

  The click of the front door’s latch sliding back into place echoed down the hall that led to his half of the building. “Beckett?”

  He paused just beyond the door that would bring her into view, savoring the sound of her voice. Most of the guys they worked with always called him Beck. Or Tate. But like Jace and Axel’s moms, Ninette and Sylvie, Gia always called him by his full name. Hell, now that he thought abo
ut it, all the Haven women did that. But with Gia it still sounded special. Like warm Southern honey.

  Forcing himself back into motion, he rounded the threshold. “And here I thought I was gonna get to claim an easy victory with a no-show.”

  “Not on your life.” The spunky retort was exactly what he’d expected, but her flushed cheeks and uncertain gaze showed an uncharacteristic hesitancy. She shrugged and wiped her palms on her hips, the perfect curves on prime display in black and tropic green leggings. “I’m sorry I was late. I dug into answering some emails and lost track of time.”

  Now, that was a bullshit foul if he’d ever heard one. If the way she’d fidgeted when she’d said it hadn’t cinched it, the fact that she’d broken eye contact would’ve. The real question was why she’d felt the need to dodge him to begin with, but he’d figure it out. Eventually. “Hey, you’re here. A few minutes behind schedule isn’t going to put me off.” He jerked his head toward the back of the building where his private gym was located. “Let’s do this.”

  For the next thirty minutes, he gave her room to warm up on the treadmill and chase off whatever had her acting jumpy. Jumping into weights without warming up himself wasn’t exactly best practice, but the lifting section of his gym gave him a great angle to watch and strategize from, not to mention giving her space to settle in.

  Only when she shifted the machine’s pace for a cool-down did he restack his weights and meander to the wide blue mat directly behind her. “You sure you’re good to do this today? All bullshit aside, I’m not gonna give you grief if you’re still hurting from last night.”

  Giving her the out was a risk he was loath to take, but the last thing he wanted was her here only because she felt backed in a corner. She already got enough of that shit from the other guys. No way was he adding his name to the list.