Ricochet (15 page)

This was what she wanted, right? No drama. She wished he wasn’t so damn…likeable.

She reached for the bottle and tipped the beer to glance at the label. She laughed out the title, “Forbidden Fruit?”

“Firestone. And…it seems appropriate.”

Movement near the house drew their gazes. Lexi came through the sliding glass doors with a platter and passed it off to Wes, reminding her that he must have gotten a glimpse of the two former models on his way in. Which might explain his easy attitude. His desire to draw a truce. Once a man saw French chocolate nearby, Hershey’s lost all appeal.

“Did you meet Lexi? And Rubi?” she asked, watching him closely over the rim of her bottle as she took her first sip.

He nodded, expressionless. “And Keaton and Duke. Are there any more?”

She swirled the beer in her mouth enjoying the rich, earthy, fruity blend, and hoping like hell the alcohol hit her bloodstream soon. “Wow, that’s good.” Then to Nathan asked, “Any more what? Renegades or drop-dead gorgeous women in the group?”

“Renegades. I can only handle one drop-dead gorgeous woman at a time, and that, obviously, hasn’t gone very well for me today.” He pointed to her bottle. “It’s pomegranate flavored.”

She couldn’t read him, couldn’t decipher between truth, lies, and charm, and bugged the hell out of her. “I was expecting apple—forbidden fruit and all.”

“Some say pomegranate was the real fruit Adam gave Eve in the garden.”

She slid him a dubious look. “Blasphemy.”

He chuckled. “Not my theory. I’m just passing on another perspective.”

She took another long drink of the unique beer, suddenly wanting to down it as her desire for Nathan spiked again. Last night had been the same. Every time she believed they couldn’t possibly have sex again, their small talk eventually turned to laughter. Their laughter coupled with their nakedness and passion created a raw intimacy that turned instantly hot. And before she knew how, they’d fallen into full-on rocket sex again. And again. And again.

Last night had been a night beyond any fantasy, and she hated the tarnish darkening it now.

“As far as Renegades,” she said, forcing her mind back to the issue, “there are a few guys we use regularly for specialty work, but no more members of the core team. If we nail this movie, come in on budget, we’ll get a big influx of cash, and Renegades will expand.”

“And if not?” he asked.

Crap, she really didn’t like to think about this part. She put one hand behind her and leaned back, lifting the beer to her mouth and gazing out over the pool. She felt his eyes on her, and her body responded with a swell of heat. She wasn’t wearing anything risqué or even interesting, just a white tank and cutoff jean shorts, but the way he looked at her made Rachel feel like she was naked again, the way he had before he’d fucked her like he’d been possessed.

She could still feel the drip, drip, drip of sweat from his forehead on her breast. The damp strands of his hair slipping through her fingers. The strength of his steel arm wrapped low around her hips, pulling her into his thrusts.

“Rachel?”

“What?” Her head came up, her mind tearing from the decadent memory. God, she wanted that again. “Sorry. I’m…tired.”

Crap.
As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. He didn’t grin, but humor crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

She downed all but the last swallow of her beer and continued without looking at him. “And if not, we’ll be struggling job to job again.”

She kept her gaze on the languid aqua squiggles floating through the pool until he blew out a breath. “Now I know what you meant by ‘no pressure.’”

She slid a look toward him. His brow wrinkled as he frowned down at his beer. “I would expect you to be used to pressure.” After his show of anger toward Troy earlier, she hesitated with her next comment but decided she couldn’t tiptoe around him for weeks. “Afghanistan can’t be an easy place to work or live.”

A subtle shift she couldn’t describe increased the tension between them again.

He shook his head without looking at her. “Different kind of pressure.”

Uneasy with the indefinable change, she pushed herself back into a sitting position. “We have a lot to go over if you’ve decided to take the job.”

His gaze lifted to hers, unreadable now. “Like?”

“I’m going to need all your credentials—your licenses, both military and civilian, your training record, your education history—”

“Excuse me?” He stiffened, his tone edged with disbelief.

“Relax. I’m not asking for anything personal, like your medical records.”

“My explosives license I get, but—”

“They’re for the risk-assessment consultant. Evaluating staff is a big part of the process. The more qualified the staff, the lower the insurance premium.”

He closed his mouth mid-argument, and his teeth clicked with the force. She’d seen his sexual intensity. But this…this was different. Something darker than the anger or frustration she dealt with every day from the other Renegades. And it seemed to rise anytime anyone brought up his work. She didn’t want to pull that kind of anger from him now, before he met Josh, so she changed the direction of the conversation.

“Did anyone tell you more about the bridge site?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you know it’s up north, about fifteen minutes inland from the beach,” she started, hoping talk of the project would relax him. “Beautiful country. Rolling green hills. Oak trees. And Troy told you about the ranch you’ll be using while you’re there. It’s in a valley several miles from the bridge, but you’ll have trucks and ATVs for transport.

“The rancher is also renting us the use of his land, which includes nine flat acres to store equipment. One acre is fenced with razor wire. And the main house is big—eight bedrooms, four bathrooms. There is also a one-bedroom guesthouse and nine bunkhouses. Plenty of room for all the staff. The owner will be staying with his kids and grandkids in Colorado for the duration of the project.

“I’ve got a kitchen service on retainer who will provide all your meals, a housekeeping service for upkeep of the ranch and laundry, and a handyman on call to take care of maintenance and repairs.”

His expression started to ease, his eyes lightening, his tension fading.

“You and I will have to go over the potential crew members’ backgrounds and pull them in for interviews to make sure they have the qualifications you want. I also have a couple of great prospects for site coordinators who I think will work well with you. You can meet them both. If you don’t like them, I’ll find someone else.

“I have a partial equipment-and-supply list—about twenty-eight pages long so far—for you to look at and add to. I’ll need you to do that ASAP so I can get everything to the site. We have a lot of it in storage, but I’ll have to order a lot too. I know very little about explosives, so you can do the ordering yourself or tell me what you want, and I’ll tell them where and when to deliver to you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you making it sound like you won’t be there?”

“What…? Didn’t Troy explain how this works?” She realized the answer was no before she’d even finished the question. “I’ll be managing everything from here. I won’t be on site. That’s what a site coordinator does.”

Disappointment filled his eyes, but frustration tightened his face. Rachel moved on.

“I don’t know if we can get the same products you use in the military. What do you normally work with?”

A sharp shot of something new flashed in his eyes before his gaze dropped away. Pain? Anger? She only knew the sight hit her at the center of her chest and burned.

“The things I normally work with would be highly frowned upon for civilian uses. Gasoline, ball bearings, bullets, unexploded RPGs, cell phones…” He shook his head, took a breath. “I won’t know what I’ll need until I construct a plan.”

He looked directly at her, his eyes shadowed, and forced a smile. “Are you always this efficient?”

“I try.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze lowered from her eyes and skimmed her face. “Do you like your freckles?”

The beer must have finally hit her, because she couldn’t make sense of that question. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your freckles,” he repeated in a low, soft voice. “Every time I was going to mention them last night, you did something that made me forget my own name.” He reached up and ran his index finger down her nose. She startled at the intimate touch, leaning away. The move was automatic, her mind instantly aware of all the attentive gazes nearby.

Her stomach felt like it was trying to jump off a cliff and fly at the same time. “Um…thanks.” She glanced down and away, her mind flashing to the night before, to now, all over the freaking place. “So…when do you think you can get me copies of all your records? Josh is going to want to see them first thing.”

He hesitated. “If I could get all that together for you by tomorrow morning, would that make you happy?”

The thought delivered anticipated relief, and she exhaled heavily. “Very.”

“Then I’ll work on it.”

She gave him a suspicious frown. “Really?”

“Why is that a surprise?” he asked, his lips turning in a small smile. “I’m really not here to make you miserable.”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She was officially unnerved, unsure how to act or react.

He set his beer down on the deck and leaned back on his palms. His shoulder muscles rolled easily beneath his skin. The thick, smooth ropes of muscle in his biceps and forearms flexed. She ached to feel those arms pulling her close again.

“So tell me about this consultant guy,” Nathan said. “Marx.”

Rachel turned her gaze back to the pool and finished off her beer, trying to find a way to explain Josh—another complicated man.

“He’s…hard to read sometimes. He’s intelligent, dedicated to safety, and willing to work with people. If there’s a problem, he’ll help you solve it. If he has concerns or sees a better way to do something, he’ll share them.

“He’s…um…” She searched for a politically correct way to categorize Josh’s other characteristics. “He’s…very…detail oriented. And thorough. And precise.”

“Are you trying to say he’s OCD?”

She darted a look at him. “Maybe, yeah.”

“Anal?”

She grimaced and lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Um…sort of.”

“Generally a royal pain in the ass who makes everything harder than it has to be.”

She rubbed her hands down her thighs. “Sometimes, but he really is a—”

“Great guy.” Nathan finished, his tone jaded.

She shot him a look. “Yes. He is.”

Ryker gave her one of those knowing smirks before he looked away.

“Hey, man.” Wes’s voice carried across the manicured lawn. “Good to see you.”

She and Nathan glanced at the house as Josh stepped through the sliding glass doors and shook hands with Wes.

Oh shit.

She hadn’t expected him so soon. When she’d talked to Josh earlier, he’d said he’d be on a job until late and would try to make it before everyone was smashed. With Nathan in this edgy mood, and Josh…well, being Josh, she anticipated eventual animosity building between them.

As Josh greeted the other men, Rachel saw him through new eyes—Nathan’s eyes. Aside from Josh’s clean-cut look and Wes’s messy Renegade style, the two men actually looked a lot alike—both over six feet, both blond, both handsome. Wes fell into the wicked rebel category, while Josh was more of the sexy CPA type.

“That him?” Nathan asked, his voice a little on the dark side.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I wanted to prep you before he got here.”

He laughed, the sound cynical. “Baby, I don’t need prepping. The fucking president could walk in here, and I’d be ready.”

She darted a glance at Nathan to gauge his mood. But his expression had changed so completely, he looked like a different man. His face was tight, his jaw hard, lips thin. And his eyes… Those weren’t the warm, flirty eyes that had eaten her up at the bar. Not the lust-filled eyes she’d drowned in last night. These eyes were…sharp, intense, assessing.

“I’m…” she started. “I didn’t mean—”

“Do you always socialize with business associates who have influence over a project?” he asked without taking his eyes off the men as Josh made the rounds to shake hands, take a beer, bullshit. Nathan’s gaze swung back to Rachel’s. “Or is he more than an associate?”

“
What?
”

Once the shock wore off, she saw the harsh comment for what it was, a flash of male competition. This had been her fear from the start; Nathan and Josh were too much alike. And problem upon problem tipped in Rachel’s mind like dominos.

She gripped his forearm, drawing his gaze again. “Don’t, Nathan. Don’t make this about you and me. That was one night. This is Renegades’ future.
Troy’s
future.”

Understanding softened his gaze. She didn’t want to pull her hand away. Sensed he needed it. And she loved the feel of him—hard, warm…so solid. But when she glanced toward Josh again, he was scanning the yard, and Rachel removed her hand as his gaze landed on the pool and found her.

They’d worked together for months, and he had to have looked at her hundreds of times. But his gaze felt so much heavier now, when she was sitting next to Nathan, sure Josh would see or sense their attraction. She didn’t owe Josh anything. It was a ridiculous thing to worry about. Yet…

Josh’s smile gleamed in the darkness, and he started toward her. He was wearing his typical work clothes, trendy black flat-front slacks and a pinstriped button-down, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. A neat square belt buckle reflected the light. He looked good. Sharp. Confident. Quietly powerful.

He always did.

And she had a damn good feeling that was going to cause even more conflict with Nathan.

Josh lifted a hand to her as he neared.

She smiled and waved back, then met Nathan’s gaze seriously. “If you take the job, you’re going to have to deal with Josh. There’s just no way around it. And if that’s going to be a problem, please,
please
step back. These people mean as much to me as Troy means to you. I’ll find another way to do the stunt.”