That appealing blush rose in her cheeks. “Yes. I’ve had fun.”
“Then keep having fun with me. Stay.”
Claire bit her plump bottom lip, and for a second he experienced a pang of envy that Dylan had had the pleasure of feeling those sexy lips pressed against his. Shit, he wanted this woman bad. Like trembling-hands-and-dry-mouth kind of bad.
“So what, I stick around for a few more days and just hang out with you? Don’t you have to work?” She paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t even know what you do. Are you in the navy too?”
“Yep, but I deal in naval intelligence. I work a boring eight-to-four out of the base, but I’ve got a bunch of personal days saved up that I can use if we want to take any day trips.”
“Day trips?” She laughed, and the sweet sound tickled his heart. “What kind of stuff are you planning to drag me into?”
“Anything you want. Might as well treat this like a vacation, no? We can check out the sights, drive up the coast, hit Malibu, Catalina, spend a day in LA if you want. So yeah, sightseeing, exploring. I’m even willing to let you drag me to every department store in the state if it means you’ll stay.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to stay so badly? You don’t even know me.”
She was doing that cute nibbling thing to her lip again, and he couldn’t stop himself—he reached out, grasped her chin, and swept his thumb over that pouty lower lip.
Claire’s breath caught. Her brown eyes widened before going heavy-lidded with desire.
Oh yeah, this woman wanted him. He hadn’t missed the way her gaze had gobbled him up when they’d first met, and today he’d seen her checking him out more than once when she thought he wasn’t looking.
“I want you to stay because you fascinate me.” His voice was so hoarse he had to clear his throat before continuing. “I want to get to know you.”
He traced her cupid’s-bow mouth with his finger, enjoying the way her breathing quickened.
“Why do I fascinate you?” she murmured, making no move to wiggle out of his touch.
“I don’t know. You just do,” he said simply. “I guess it’s because…well, truthfully, I don’t spend time with many women like you.”
“Women like me?”
He smiled sheepishly and dropped his hand from her face. “You know, the non-airhead type. The women I’ve dated, or the ones Dylan and I bring home, they’re usually all about living in the moment, having a good time for a night and then moving on. That’s not to say they’re ditzy or dumb, but they certainly aren’t serious, you know what I mean?”
“And you think I’m serious?”
“I think you’re…pretty fucking amazing, actually. You’re smart, ambitious, funny, sexy—”
“You think I’m sexy?” Her face took on that pinkish hue again.
“So sexy.” He met her eyes. “And look, I ain’t gonna lie—I’m attracted to you. But I also know you’re in a vulnerable place right now and I promise I won’t take advantage of that. I really just want to spend more time with you. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with a woman.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “What about Dylan?”
“What about him? He’s the one who asked you to come here in the first place, and I just spoke to him and he said he doesn’t mind if you stay.”
Fine, so maybe Dylan’s exact words had been leave me out of it but Aidan was going to take that as the green light for Claire to stick around.
When Claire shifted in visible reluctance, he gave her the impish grin he’d perfected over the years. “Come on, you know you want to.”
She scowled again, but her lips were twitching with amusement. “Jeez, I bet those dimples got you everything you wanted when you were growing up.”
“Yep, and they still do.” The grin widened. “So what do you say? Will you stay?”
Her indecision hung in the air between them. He could see her brain working, feel her resolve crumbling.
“Okay, you win,” she grumbled. “I’ll stay. But just for another day or two.”
Triumph coursed through him, though he knew it would take more than a day or two to get Claire where he wanted her—naked, moaning and sandwiched between him and Dylan while they drove her to new heights of arousal.
Of course, he would need to work on Dylan too, but that wouldn’t be difficult, considering the hunger on the guy’s face whenever Claire was in the room.
Still, it was going to take more than his dimples to make this happen. He’d definitely have to up his game, but fortunately, he’d always been very, very good at games. And this was one he had every intention of winning.
Chapter Seven
It took three days for Aidan to reach a conclusion: he was sharing space with the two most stubborn people on the planet. Although Claire had indeed stuck around, getting her and Dylan in the same room proved to be impossible. They went out of their way not to spend more than five minutes together, and Aidan was growing frustrated with their childish antics.
To make matters worse, Dylan was going to bed early and waking up before dawn because his SEAL team was running training missions all week. He’d been crashing on the pullout couch in the office so he wouldn’t disturb Aidan with his comings and goings, and the grueling demos left him beaten and exhausted when he got home, so even if they had been sharing a bed, Aidan knew sex wouldn’t be on the table.
As a result, he was so sexually frustrated he felt like a teenager with blue balls after his girlfriend refused to do more than neck. Being around Claire was pure torture. Not being with Dylan was even worse.
Needless to say, it was time to shake things up.
“Hey, guys? Can you come in here for a sec?” he called from the master bedroom.
Since Claire was right across the hall, she popped her head in the doorway within seconds, looking cute as hell in denim shorts and a red tank top, with her hair tied in a low, side ponytail. The two of them had spent the morning at the pier having lunch at a bistro that overlooked the water, then gotten ice cream at Aidan’s favorite place in San Diego. Cash McCoy’s girlfriend had turned him on to the place, and Claire had absolutely loved it, demanding a taste of every unique flavor in the store.
The more time he spent with her, the more Aidan liked her.
And the more he wanted to get her naked.
Soon, he reassured himself.
Claire stepped into the room. “What’s up?”
“Hold on. Dylan, I’m serious, get in here,” Aidan called. “I’ve got something to show you guys.”
Dylan had been napping on the living room couch, having gotten home an hour ago in an exhaustion coma, so it took a few more seconds before his footsteps finally sounded in the hall.
“This better be good.” Dylan strode into the bedroom, covering his mouth as a yawn overtook him. “What is it?”
Aidan stalked toward the walk-in closet as if he was going to get something, then stopped. “Oh shit, I forgot, I left it in the office. Give me a sec.”
Nonchalant, he slid out the door, making sure to close it behind him. The second he was in the hall, he sprang into action. He might ride a desk at the base, but he’d gone through basic training the same way Dylan had, and he was quicker than most people gave him credit for.
In no time, he grabbed the dining-room chair he’d stashed in the office and had the sturdy wooden back pressed up beneath the doorknob of his bedroom. The second the chair locked into place, he heard a muffled curse.
“What the hell, bro?” Dylan shouted. “Did you just barricade us in here?”
“Sure did,” Aidan replied.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, open the goddamn door.”
“Seriously, Aidan.” Claire’s voice now, laced with annoyance. “Let us out.”
“No can do, sweetheart. See, I’m tired as fuck of watching you two tiptoe around each other, or listening to you argue like a pair of preteens. It’s time
you straightened your shit out.”
“We’re the preteens?” Dylan said incredulously. “You’re the one who locked us in here!”
He fought a grin. “It’s for your own good. And I suggest you use the time allotted to sit down and have a real talk, instead of bitching at one another the way you’re so fucking good at.”
Another muted curse, this one feminine and so vulgar his eyebrows shot up.
“Ah, sweetheart, such language,” he chided. “You’re better than that.”
“Fuck you, Aidan.”
“Yeah, fuck you, Aidan,” Dylan echoed.
Chuckling, he reached for the other item he’d liberated from the office, the cardboard box he’d set down on the hardwood.
As he opened the box, he heard Dylan murmur something to Claire, and not even the barrier between them could disguise the determination in the SEAL’s voice. But even without that telltale tone of voice, Aidan had known exactly what Dylan’s next move would be.
“Hey, man, if you’re thinking of kicking in the door, I wouldn’t recommend it,” he advised.
“Yeah, and why’s that? Because you know I’m perfectly capable of smashing this door down.”
“Yep, but just know that if you do, your mother’s Christmas present will smash right along with it.”
Still laughing, Aidan removed the fragile glass angel nestled in the protective Styrofoam. He gently placed the angel on the chair and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Nice. Any damage Dylan inflicted on the door would cause the chair—and the angel—to crash right to the floor.
“How much was that angel again?” he went on, feeling a lot more cheerful than he probably should. “Six hundred bucks? And didn’t you get it commissioned by that famous glassblower dude from Sweden? It’s one of a kind, right?”
There was a brief silence, then a very quiet, very calm, “You’re the fucking devil, Aidan.”
“Straighten your shit out,” he repeated. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Oh, and I left a box of provisions under the bed, just in case the forced confinement inspires some kind of fucked-up Alive situation.”
Without letting either one of them respond, he walked away with a spring to his step.
Fine, so maybe he shouldn’t be so damn proud about his sneakiness, but enough was enough. He had no idea why Claire believed that Dylan, the nicest guy on the planet, was a selfish asshole. Or why Dylan thought that Claire was a materialistic bitch, when these past few days had shown her to be the most easygoing, fun-loving woman Aidan had ever met.
Whatever the reason for their false perceptions, it was time for them to work out their issues.
“I can’t believe he locked us in here.” Claire sounded livid as she stared at the door, so intently it was like she was trying to use telekinesis to open the damn thing.
Dylan shook his head in anger, amazed that Aidan had resorted to such juvenile bullshit. He was so not in the mood for this, not after spending the past twelve hours crawling around in a forest on a mock hostage extraction with his team. All he’d wanted to do when he got home was pass the fuck out, but thanks to Aidan, he was wide awake and spitting mad.
“He’ll let us out in a few minutes, right?” Claire turned around with a desperate look. “He won’t really be gone for hours, will he?”
“Yes, he will,” Dylan said grimly. “Aidan doesn’t mess around.”
Her features creased with dismay. “This is so ridiculous. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”
Offense prickled his skin. He rubbed his tired eyes, then dragged a hand through his sleep-tousled hair and examined the room for anything he might be able to use to dismantle the doorknob. Then he realized it was absolutely futile, because no way would Aidan leave any escape devices lying around. And since they were on the fifteenth floor, going out through the bedroom’s small balcony was out.
That left two options—kick down the door and say goodbye to his mother’s Christmas present, which he’d taken painstaking effort to secure, or spend the next few hours locked in a room with Claire McKinley.
When he felt her knowing gaze on him, he shot her a scowl. “What?”
“You’re considering ruining Shanna’s present, aren’t you?” she accused. “The idea of being alone with me is that undesirable?”
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed indignation. You’re not thrilled to be here with me, either.”
“No, but I’d suck it up if it meant Shanna gets her angel.” Claire paused. “I actually bought her a small crystal one for her birthday.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, for her collection. She loves those angels.”
“Yeah, she really does.”
They both went quiet. After a beat, Dylan sighed and lowered his tired body onto the bed. As he stretched out on his back, he saw Claire watching him with suspicious brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” he answered. “That angel was a bitch to get my hands on. I’m not going to destroy it just so I don’t have to spend a few hours with you.”
“Gee, thanks. Nice to know you’re willing to make such a big sacrifice.”
His nostrils flared. “Does the sarcasm ever stop?”
“Does the good-guy act?”
“It’s not an act,” he retorted. “Whether you believe it or not, I actually am a good guy.”
“Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”
Her bitter tone was the last straw. The last few days had been taxing, both mentally and physically, and he had no desire to undergo a character assassination, especially when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
“You know what?” He abruptly moved into a sitting position and rested his curled fists on his thighs. “Maybe Aidan’s right. Maybe it’s time we let each other know exactly what we think of each other.”
“Fine,” she snapped back. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for more than a year out of respect for your mother and because Chris asked me not to interfere, but I’m not biting my tongue anymore.”
“Good. Let’s start then.” He set his jaw. “I’ll go first. I think you’re a snob.”
“Yeah? Well, I think you’re selfish.” Claire’s entire body was stiffer than a board as she sat at the foot of the bed and angled her body so they could glare at each other more easily.
“I think you’re disrespectful,” he told her.
“I think you’re a bad brother and a bad son.”
“I think you loved Chris’s money more than you loved him.”
“Oh, that’s rich, you bringing up money.” Her eyes blazed. “Because as far as I know, you haven’t sent a dime home this past year.”
“First of all, what’s it to you? And second, if you must know, I offered to help my mom out after she left her job, but she said she was doing okay for cash.”
“Left her job?” Claire shook her head in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to pretend with me. I was going to marry your brother—I know why Shanna got fired.”
Surprise spiraled through him. “What did you say?”
“I said I know why she got—”
“Fired,” Dylan finished. A sick feeling rose in his chest. “What do you mean, she got fired?”
“Why are you playing dumb?”
“I’m not playing dumb. I’m honestly and thoroughly confused. I don’t know what Chris told you, but my mom quit her teller job at the bank. She said she was tired of all the politics there.”
When Claire didn’t respond, Dylan’s stomach churned some more, knots of worry twisting around his insides. Jesus. Was Claire actually telling the truth? Had Chris and Shanna been lying to him all these months?
“Tell me everything you know,” he ordered. “I mean it, Claire. Everything.”
Apprehension plagued her pretty features. “You don’t know what happened at the bank?”
He battled another rush of queasiness. “No.”
“Shanna got fired, Dylan.”
“You mea
n, laid off?”
“No, fired.” Claire’s tone grew pained. “She wasn’t showing up for work, and when she did, she’d be hours late.”
“Are you fucking with me here? Who told you that? Chris?”
“Yes. But I also spoke to your mom about it.” She hesitated. “I’m the one who got her in contact with the lady from—” She stopped without warning and averted her gaze.
“The lady from where?” he demanded.
Claire’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Gamblers Anonymous.”
Dylan felt like someone had dropped a cartoon anvil on his head. He literally got the wind knocked out of him, and all he could do was stare at Claire in wordless disbelief.
Her big brown eyes widened at his stunned expression. “You really didn’t know, did you?”
It took a few seconds to find his voice, which came out so hoarse it sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of gravel. “My mom has a gambling problem?”
Claire nodded.
“Since when?”
“I think it started a few months before Chris and I met. I guess she went to the casino with a few women from her gardening club and she caught the bug. She went back the next weekend on her own, and then the weekend after, and the one after that. Eventually she was going several times a week, which was when she started skipping out on work.”
Dylan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but apparently Claire wasn’t finished dropping bombs on him.
“She lost all her savings, but even then she couldn’t stop gambling, and when her paychecks weren’t enough to support the habit, she took out a second mortgage on the house. Except she couldn’t afford the mortgage payments either, and the bank started foreclosure proceedings, so that’s when she confided in Chris.”
He sucked in a breath. “So my brother knew this whole time and didn’t say a word about it to me?”
Claire rubbed the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache. “He told me you knew, but that it wasn’t your responsibility to do anything about it. He was the man of the house since your father died, so it was his problem. That’s why he took the job with Lowenstein and Tate instead of the assistant prosecutor position.”