Rev It Up (7 page)

She figured she’d heard it all before anyway…

***

Vanessa Cordero watched as Snake shook Eve’s hand, amazed once again to be in the company of one of the most legendary SEALs ever to graduate BUD/S. The guy was known for not only being an absolute animal out in the field, but also for his unparalleled success with the ladies. When he flashed Eve those deep dimples of his, Vanessa could certainly understand why so many California girls had fallen victim to his charm.

Of course, when she caught the hot, longing look he shot toward
Michelle
, she figured his days as the SEALs’ resident lothario were long gone.

So
that’s the way the wind blows…

She’d wondered what his whole
I’m here for Shell
thing meant last night. Now she knew. And it was strange thing indeed to witness the exact moment when a man’s heart skipped a beat. Stranger still that Michelle seemed to be completely clueless.

“Hey,
cheri
, why doncha load up a plate for Toran at the front gate, and I’ll mosey on out and take it to him.” Rock’s smooth voice dragged her away from her fanciful observations.

But she discovered, much to her embarrassment after she turned to him expectantly, he wasn’t speaking to her.

Of
course
he wasn’t.

Like he would ever refer to
her
by the sweet French pet name, or sling that leanly muscled arm around
her
shoulders.

As far as she could figure, Rock was barely aware she was alive. Which just made it that much more ridiculous when she turned into a Disney character anytime he came within ten feet of her. All big eyes and fluttering lashes and an overwhelming desire to break into song.

Good God, the absolute absurdity of the whole thing would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so blasted embarrassing…

And for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what it was about the guy.

It wasn’t like he was all that handsome. Not in the movie star way Ozzie or Ghost or Snake was handsome.

But it wasn’t like he
wasn’t
handsome either.

He was just…there. The kind of man you’d pass on the street without noticing. Seemingly wholly constructed of perfectly average features. That is until you really
looked
at him. Because when you stopped to really
look
at him, you realized his brown hair wasn’t really brown, but a deep, dark auburn. And his hazel eyes weren’t merely hazel; they were warm whiskey-brown shot through with amazing striations of glinting gold and new-grass green. His nose wasn’t average and uninteresting; it was actually quite perfect. And his mouth…well, anybody who took the time to get past that goatee
had
to recognize that mouth for the thing of beauty that it was.

And when you added all that up with a sexy Cajun drawl and a body that was long, lean, and honed to physical perfection by hard living and harder training, not to mention the overall effect of a plethora of tattoos and long-legged swagger on the female libido, it was easy to see why some women would find themselves quite enamored with the guy.

But
she
was not just some woman.

She was Vanessa Cordero, communications specialist superstar. She’d spent her entire adult life working with hard-bodied operators and never had she reacted to them the way she reacted to Rock.

The situation was not only highly unimaginable, but also highly unfortunate as it threatened to muck-up her new job with BKI, the most elite, most clandestine defense firm in the whole world.

“Hey.” Becky came up beside her, shoving a tall glass of iced tea and a plate with a giant slice of pecan pie into her hands. “Would you do me a huge solid and help Rock take this out to Toran at the front gate?”

“Uh,” she glanced over at the heaping plate of food Rock carefully balanced in front of him. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Becky sauntered away, completely oblivious to the butterflies she’d awakened in Vanessa’s belly. The ones that took to frantically beating against her rib cage as Rock strolled in her direction while digging in the front pocket of his Levi’s for his cell phone.

“Before we go out, I need to call the guys on the perimeter and make sure there aren’t any unfriendlies skulkin’ about the place,” he told her absently, his deep, sexy voice making her shiver.

Or maybe it was just the cool evening breeze causing her skin to erupt in goose bumps. She certainly hoped it was the breeze because,
crud
, she wasn’t that far gone, was she?

When he gave her a strange look, she realized she hadn’t responded to his last statement and was, instead, gaping at him in slack-jawed fascination, mere seconds away from breaking into song.

Ack! Someone just shoot me now!

Of course, since some wiseguy out of Las Vegas had put a price on the head of each and every Black Knight, she knew getting shot was an actual possibility. Which was why most of the Knights were stationed in the buildings around the perimeter of the BKI’s compound, keeping a close eye on their operation.

“Oh, uh, good idea,” she murmured and screwed her eyes closed when she realized how impossibly lame that sounded.

Rock didn’t seem to notice—
thank
goodness
—because he was already pushing some numbers on his phone and listening to it ring on the other end.

Pull
yourself
together, Cordero. He’s just another operator like all the other operators you’ve worked with your entire life.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t true. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was somehow…
different
…

To distract herself as Rock exchanged a few terse words with whichever Knight he’d called, she turned back to the group gathering around the table.

Michelle was in the process of taking a seat when she glanced at her son’s sticky hands and quickly changed her mind.

“No way you’re coming to the table with those hands, mister,” she said.

Little Franklin groaned like having to go inside to wash was tantamount to Chinese torture, and it was impossible to miss the smoldering look in Snake’s eyes as he followed Michelle’s progress into the shop.

Boss obviously didn’t miss it, because he punched Snake in the shoulder and grumbled, “Stop staring at my kid sister like she’s five-foot-ten-inches of grade-A giggidy.”

“Ow!” Snake howled, making a face as he rubbed his abused shoulder. Then he grinned, lifting his hands in a shrug.

“You’re ruining my dinner,” Boss rumbled.

“Like that’s even possible,” Becky snorted, and Vanessa could only shake her head. She was still having a bit of trouble consolidating the image of the world’s most dangerous men with those of the guys she’d come to know at BKI, the ones who threw impromptu barbeques and razzed one another without mercy. Sometimes, the place felt less like a top-secret spy shop and more like a rowdy fraternity.

“Perimeter’s clear. We’re good to go,” Rock drawled, reminding her that for next couple of minutes she’d be completely alone with him.

Oh dear.
The butterflies in her stomach started crawling up into her throat.

“Hey, Rock!” Becky called before they could make it through the shop’s back door.

“Yeah,
chère
?”

“While you’re out there, would you do a sweep of Snake’s bike to make sure it’s free of bugs or any other nasty devices?” The Knights never allowed unsecured vehicles onto their premises. In their line of work, it paid to be vigilant. “I’m dying to get a closer look at that paint job. The snakeskin on the tank looks almost three-dimensional.”

“That would be thanks to this amazing tattoo artist out of LA,” Snake said as he dug in his front pocket and tossed Rock a set of keys.

Even balancing the mammoth plate of steak, salad, and potatoes, Rock caught the keys easily.

“You finally restored that ol’ Honda?” Boss asked, and the conversation dissolved into flywheels, pistons, and cylinders, of which Vanessa knew absolutely nothing.

Amazingly, however, since joining the Knights, her interest in the subject matter had skyrocketed, because,
seriously
, what she wouldn’t give to have her very own custom-designed Black Knights motorcycle.

She’d never really considered herself the type of woman to go in for the whole MC lifestyle. But the first time she’d seen all the Knights mount up and head for the open road, she knew she wanted a piece of that action.

“Lead the way,” Rock’s drawl interrupted her thoughts, and she turned toward the shop’s back door.

She’d only gone a few feet when she glanced over her shoulder. Something about having him behind her gave her the definite sensation of being…
stalked.
Of course, that particular feeling made a lot of sense when she caught him staring at her butt the way a hungry lion stares at a wounded impala.

Okay, so maybe he
was
aware she was alive.

Gulp.
She wasn’t sure if that knowledge made her giddy as a school girl or simply scared the crap out of her. But from somewhere deep inside her, some place she never knew existed, a little horned—or maybe horny was the best way to describe her—demon sprung up and said, “You see something you like, cowboy?”

Rock’s eyes shot to her face, one dark eyebrow rose nearly to his hairline. “I certainly do
, ma belle
,” he grumbled. “But I’ve learned most things I like tend to get me in trouble.”

“Trouble can be fun,” she heard herself retort and almost choked.

Who was this woman saying these salacious things? Certainly not her.

It’s official folks. I’ve been possessed by a demon
.
A motorcycle-riding, sexy-talking succubus apparently.

“
Oui.
” He slowly licked his lips, catching the bottom one between his square teeth before adding, “Trouble
can
be fun. Are you lookin’ for some fun,
chère
?”

Oh gosh, and whatever demon had momentarily possessed her suddenly vanished without a trace, leaving her flustered and tongue-tied and completely incapable of thought. The best she could manage was an audible gulp followed by the tentative lifting of one shaking shoulder.

Rock’s eyes darkened and a small smile played at his beautiful, beautiful mouth. “Well, when you figure it out,
ma
cocette
, you know where to find me.”

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Jake whispered, closely watching Shell’s face as the shadows of dusk settled over the courtyard.

She was quietly rocking her sleeping son and singing along to Rock’s rendition of some old Kenny Rogers song
.
And though Jake reviled all things country with the same passion as a kid reviles peas, he had to admit, he’d listen to Willie, Waylon, and the boys until the cows came home if it meant he could continue to hear her soft voice gently linger in the evening air.

Man, he’d
missed
her. Especially when she slid him a withering look.

She was the nicest, warmest woman on the entire planet. To his knowledge, she’d never missed one of the SEALs’ birthdays. She’d always been the first to send flowers to the hospital when they were injured. She’d schlepped through the crowds at the mall to buy extra civvies in order to save them from having to spend their blessedly few personal hours shopping. She’d memorized the names of siblings and parents and family pets and was the first to ask how Uncle Rupert’s gallbladder surgery went, or if Grandma Ivy enjoyed her Alaskan cruise.

There’d always been a hot meal waiting at Shell’s tiny, one-bedroom apartment for some hungry commando just back from a mission, or a pull-out sofa for some sloppy operator who’d had one too many to make it back to base under his own steam.

In short, she’d been home away from home. A safe harbor for the fighting men to return to after coming back from some of the hairiest missions of their lives.

But she could shrivel most men’s berries with that particular look of hers.

Luckily, he wasn’t most men.

“My love life is none of your business,” she muttered, pursing her lips until he got a very clear mental image of how she’d look with her mouth wrapped around—