Navy Seal To The Rescue. Tawny Weber
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instead of on her drawn-up knees. The movement threw her face into sharp relief, the flickering overhead light angling down, accenting that full mouth, with its slight overbite. The curve of her cheekbones and the deep hollows beneath. She’d closed her eyes so her thick lashes fanned out over those cheeks, giving her a look of vulnerability that tugged at his gut.
Then she pulled in one long, deep breath that made her blouse slide temptingly across her full breasts.
And he got a tug a little south of his gut.
Then she did it again.
And Travis realized that yes, indeed, bum knee or not, he was alive and well.
By her third breath, he had to suck in one of his own.
He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to see people fall apart—especially women. But it was pure pleasure to watch her pull herself together.
Still, enough was enough.
“You got a grip on yourself yet?”
“What?” When those lashes fluttered open, her eyes were fogged with confusion and pain.
“Just checking. Are you finished with that meltdown?”
“Meltdown?” she snapped, pushing to her feet. She slammed her hands on her hips while her face curved in fury. She had a wicked glare, one he figured would cut a lesser man to the quick. But his ego was made of steel.
So he just grinned.
“Yeah. You were crying and babbling and seeing things. In my book, that reads like a meltdown.”
“I saw a man killed,” she said, each word clipped and precise. “I heard the bullet, the sound of it piercing his flesh. I watched his body fly backward, bleeding and ripped. I heard men cussing before one of them aimed that same gun at me.”
She stepped forward and poked a sharp finger into his chest.
“So if I had a meltdown according to your stupid book, then I figure I’m due.”
Damn.
Travis couldn’t stop smiling.
Well, what d’ya know, he realized with surprise, downing the water she’d ignored. As the icy liquid poured down his throat, he gave thanks.
Because, oh, yeah. He still had a libido.
“Okay,” he said after debating the merits of keeping her riled up versus being a gentleman. “Anyone who saw that sort of thing would have a right to melt on down.”
“Anyone?”
“You, in this case.” Not interested in arguing the point, he shrugged. “How much time passed between your supposed escape and mowing into me?”
“I don’t know,” Lila said, sounding a little frantic as she shook her head. “A few minutes, I suppose.”
“Factoring in the five or so minutes it took you to reach me on the beach, then to calm down and make sense—”
“You mean for you to quit bitching about being knocked over and listen to me.”
“And the five minutes it took us to walk to my place. I called the cops, we met them here within ten minutes, give or take,” Travis continued, ignoring her. “Less than a half hour, all told.”
“So?”
“So if an as yet unknown number of men killed a harmless chef, and saw you witnessing the murder first, don’t you think they’d have pursued when you ran? But, instead, you figure they cleaned up all evidence, scrubbed the place clean of blood and guts, tidying the office while they were at it. Then they hauled the body out of a busy restaurant, on a busy beach, without anyone noticing?” He waited a beat, letting that sink in, then added, “And all of that in less than thirty minutes?”
“How would I know?” She threw her hands in the air. “All I know is what I saw.”
With that, she headed out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“The cops don’t believe me. You don’t believe me.” She shot him a nasty look. “So what difference does it make?”
“I believe you are upset.” He glanced through the grimy window. “And I believe it’s a little late to be storming around town alone.”
“Oh, sure,” she said with a sneer. “Being a hero isn’t enough for you. You just have to play gentleman, too.”
Ignoring her attitude shift from lady of the manor to peasant, Travis gestured for her to precede him out the door. Despite his service as a SEAL, Travis had never wanted to play hero. But he couldn’t ignore the need to do something to fix this mess for her, to do whatever he could to make her feel better.
“C’mon,” he said, walking over and offering his hand.
She looked at it, then those mermaid eyes rose to his face before dropping to his hand again.
“What?”
“Let’s go.”
Brows furrowed, she looked around the office and gave a small shudder before tucking her hand in his. Her fingers were slender, making Travis want to be extra careful not to crush those delicate bones as he pulled her to her feet.
Upright, she swayed a little, so he left his hand in hers. Just because he didn’t want to have to scoop her off the floor, he told himself.
Her gaze, foggy with confusion and frustration, skimmed from the floor to the wall, then shifted away.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her words faint as they moved through the doorway.
He shoved the side door open, gesturing with his free hand for her to go first, then pulled her down the beach. They’d take the ocean route, give her time to decompress.
And him time to think.
“Your hotel should work.”
“Look, buddy. You’re hot and all, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep with you after all this.”
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