Command Performance. Sara Jane Stone
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interrogator frowned and turned to Miss Maggie. “He’s not a mechanic.”
A mechanic? Seriously? He’d never heard of women trying to pick up mechanics. Maybe New York ladies were more practical. Why snag a soldier when you could have someone around to fix your car?
But he couldn’t let Miss Maggie walk away because he didn’t take apart engines for a living. He smiled. “I’m not. But I know how to change a tire.”
“Great,” Maggie said, her brow relaxing.
“Are you a general?” her friend demanded.
He let out a bark of laughter. A general? What the hell? Sure, some women went after navy SEALs. Maybe some even wanted army rangers. But autoworkers and generals?
“No, ma’am.”
Maggie’s friend gave him a long, hard look as if she thought he might be lying, and then to his surprise nodded. “Good.” She looked down at Maggie. “I’ll take a cab home. Call me tomorrow.” She waved as she walked toward the exit, blinding everyone in the tent as the light caught her shockingly pink shoes.
Hunter shook his head and reclaimed his chair. “What do you have against generals?”
“They intimidate me.”
“But I don’t?”
She smiled and leaned toward him. “Oh, no, you do. But for other reasons.”
“Such as?” If she was looking to secure a soldier, she was sure going about it differently. Most ladies asked a few questions about his latest trip overseas and then declared him “sooo brave,” at which point Hunter walked away.
Nothing but a direct order could drag him away from Maggie.
“Reason number one, I haven’t done this before.” She waved her free hand through the air. The other hand remained glued to her glass. “Pick up someone. A man. At a car show refreshment tent.”
He nodded. Bold with a serious case of nerves. And she’d chosen him for her first time. Why? he wondered. His eyes dropped south. They’d get back to the whys. Right now, he wanted to get her naked. But first she had a list of reasons. Hunter grinned. Little Miss Maggie was both beautiful and amusing. For a woman like her, he could afford a little patience. “And reason number two?”
She pursed her full lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth. The sight of her nipples had attracted his interest, but her mouth? The thought of those pink lips touching him went straight to his groin. Hunter reached for his pint glass.
“I’m trying to decide what I need to know about you before we end up in bed together.”
He coughed and sputtered, nearly covering the front of her shirt with the remains of his beer. Once he’d regained his composure somewhat—his dick was harder than ever—he pushed back from the table. “You think about that and I’ll get us another round. What are you drinking?”
“Water.”
Hunter sidled up to the bar, ordered two waters and paid for the earlier beers with Riley’s cash. He’d found the perfect woman, or rather she’d found him—easy on the budget and eager to jump into bed with him. He’d met more women than he could count who swore up and down they did not want a relationship, but brazen-yet-sometimes-shy Maggie was the first he suspected who might mean exactly what she said.
The bartender placed two glasses and a stack of singles in front of him. Hunter took the hint and left a big tip. It was easy to be generous with Riley’s cash. Once he got Sierra out of rehab and employed—God help him—he could afford to drop large tips with his own money. Pushing the less-than-pleasant thoughts away, he went back to the table.
“Your water, Miss Maggie.” He slid the glass in front of her.
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Thank you.”
He picked up his chair and flipped it around. Straddling the seat, his arms resting on the low wooden back, he asked, “So, what would you like to know?”
She stared down at the table a moment then asked, “Do you live around here, or are you just visiting?”
He’d never had the luxury of honestly and openly interrogating the women he met, but if he’d been in her shoes he would have asked the same thing. His gaze ran down her jeans-clad legs—not long, but a good fit for her height—and landed on her lofty heels. Okay, so bacon might sprout wings before he’d wear those supersexy shiny white things, but it was still a good question. “Just visiting. A work thing next week.”
A hint of a smile flashed across her face and her stick-straight posture eased. Relief, he guessed. He waited for her to ask him where he was from, how long he’d been in the army or what exactly he did, which he couldn’t tell her, but Miss Maggie didn’t say a word. “Anything else?”
She drew a deep breath and stared at her water. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he’d read her wrong. He couldn’t tell if she was gathering up the courage to ask another question or run away.
Just when he thought she might ditch her heels and sprint to the exit, she looked him straight in the eye. “No more questions.”
How close is your bed? He kept his mouth shut, waiting for a better response to pop into his brain. Problem was, his brain wasn’t doing the thinking anymore.
“But,” she continued.
God help him, there was a but. He reached for his water and brought the glass to his lips, hoping it would take the edge off the get-her-naked-now feeling pulsing through him.
“I need to make sure we’re on the same page here.” She looked him straight in the eyes, as if she were about to reveal weapon launch codes. “I want an amazing orgasm. Actually, scratch that. I want more than one. So if you don’t think you can deliver, or if you’re looking for more than one night, I’ll thank you for the drink and leave. Because I really need those orgasms.”
He could have sworn he was dreaming. In his wildest fantasies, he’d never imagined he’d meet someone like her. A woman who demanded orgasms, lots of them, without commitment.
Could he deliver? Hunter set the nearly empty glass back on the table. “Honey, I’m your man.”
3
THE PLAN HAD WORKED. Hunter Cross, the man with the bedroom eyes, was looking at her as if he couldn’t wait to tear her clothes off. She could tell from the tension in his body that he was ready to jump up from the table. He’d just drenched the front of his clothes and he didn’t seem to give a damn. That’s what she wanted, a man who cared more about her pleasure than his own comfort.
A rush of excitement washed over her, leaving her skin tingling, waiting to be touched. The feeling took her by surprise. It had been so long since she’d felt that first spark that she barely recognized it. This is what I’ve been looking for, she thought.
“But first, I have a few things I need to know about you before I get into bed with you,” he said calmly.
Or maybe not. He didn’t sound like a man blinded by lust. Maybe she was so desperate for a wild night in bed with a man who made her breasts ache to be touched that she’d imagined his interest.
Her stomach flipped and she reached for her drink, needing to hold something. Why had she picked the most handsome man in the tent, maybe in the entire state of New York, for her conquest? And why hadn’t she started with a normal conversation? She could have asked him what he did in the army, or where he was from. Instead, she’d demanded an orgasm.
Her finger traced the rim of her water glass. Maybe she should run away now and spare herself any further embarrassment. She could stop on her way home and buy a vibrator. Throw in a cinnamon bun and that might be all the wild and crazy she needed in her life right now.
Except her fantasies didn’t involve batteries.