You know, fiction.
She didn’t understand it. Brittany had never been a fairy-tale kind of girl. She didn’t like chick flicks, didn’t read romances, and thought words like “destiny,” “fate,” and “soul mate” set women (and maybe a few unusually sensitive men) up for a lot of disappointment. It wasn’t a feminist statement as much as learned cynicism.
But for that one fraction of a heartbeat, when he’d looked into her eyes and pulled her into his arms, she’d been Cinderella, Snow White, and every naive princessin between who believed in “one true love” carrying them away to happiness.
It was disconcerting how an independent woman who’d been on her own for a long time, wholikedbeing on her own, could turn into a starry-eyed romantic in the blink of an eye.
The blink of a very sexy blue eye attached to a man who’d gotten even better looking—as if he needed to—in the five years since she’d seen him last.
Yep, Mr. Good Times, aka “Dynomite” as her brother called him, was still in prime form. The center of the party, surrounded by women, and jaw-droppingly gorgeous even with the lumberjack scruff and long hair. The Viking look wasn’t easy to pull off—even in Finland—but he somehow managed to make it sexy as hell.Hello, Thor.
He’d beefed up in the handful of years since she’d seen him, but from the feel of that rock-hard chest against hers, it was 100 percent grade A muscle.
Of course it was. His body had always been a temple— with plenty of worshipping going on.
It had been a long day, and Brittany wasn’t in the mood for John Donovan and his masculine perfection. Everything was always so easy for him. Even in Finland everyone liked him, apparently. Let him dazzle one of the women who’d been hanging on him in the bar when she’d arrived with his good-time-surfer-boy—or, in his case, water-polo-player—charm.
She didn’t have the patience for it. Not only was she exhausted from hours of travel—could he have picked a more hard-to-get-to, out-of-the-way place?—but she’d better hope there weren’t a lot of storms in her future, as she’d had to use up most of her “rainy day” savings for the last-minute ticket after her boss had refused to pay for it. She was on her own here, with everything—literally—on the line. Job. Reputation. Ability to pay bills.
Was it any surprise that he’d caught her off guard with that kiss?
If only she could convince herself that travel weariness and fears of looming poverty were to blame. But John Donovan had an uncanny ability to make her feel vulnerable in a way she didn’t like.
She’d marched across the bar, intending to get answers, and he’d pulled the rug out from under her with that kiss. A kiss that wasn’t some kind of romantic moment at the end of a movie, but a kiss to shut her up.
That it had worked so thoroughly—so easily—only made her angrier. She stewed in that anger as the car took them wherever he was taking her—she assumed his apartment. Which was ironic, given the last time they were alone together he couldn’t wait to get heroutof his room...
Brittany paced back and forth across the attic-turned- bedroom, pausing every now and then to peer out one of the windows to see if the sound of a car was the one she was waiting for.
But maybe John wouldn’t be driving? He’d been drinking heavily before she left. Too heavily. More heavily than she’d ever seen him drink before. Tequila—not beer.
Did that mean something? Was that why he’d done—her heart caught—that?
Tears clogged her throat and raw eyes, threatening to spill again.
She wasn’t mistaken in what she’d seen, but maybe there was an explanation. Such as whether the brother she hardly knew anymore had interfered.
Earlier tonight, she had gone down to the beach. It had been a little later than she’d planned, and the bonfire was already jam-packed with people. The guys had a Saturday night off from training, and they were taking full advantage.
She had to admit seeing a dozen good-looking, built guys in one place took some getting used to. She wasn’t used to so much testosterone flowing around and didn’t think she would ever get over the little primitive flutter of awareness that went through her.
But there was only one guy she wanted to see. She couldn’t wait to find John and tell him her news. She’d followed his suggestion and gone downtown to speak with one of the free local papers—one with a liberal bent that didn’t dismiss her claim of a cover-up out of hand—and they were willing to give her a shot. It wouldn’t be much at first, but it was a start.
She was back in the game. Not even four weeks after, she’d been fired and it had seemed as if her career was over. And she had John to thank for it.
She rose onto her tiptoes, trying to look over the crowd—there must have been forty people here tonight—but didn’t see him right away. She saw her brother standing in a circle with a few of his other SEAL friends off to the side near the barbecue, but no John.
She frowned, thinking it strange. John usually took control of the barbecue. He hailed from one of the “culinary meccas” (his words) of the world, the San Francisco Bay Area, and took his food preparation and selection seriously.
Only Brittany knew the reason why. Before she’d died from breast cancer, John’s mom had been a sous chef for one of the most important chefs in modern culinary history—Alice Waters of Chez Panisse and “California cuisine” fame.
Brittany tucked that little nugget of knowledge back in her heart, where it had taken up residence when he’d shared it with her. That and the knowledge of how horrible his mom’s death had been. John had told her how he’d spent his senior year of high school in a vigil by her hospital bedside. Brittany would bet what money shehad that she was the only person he’d ever confided in about that—including her brother.
Brandon was wrong.
Her mind turned to the conversation she’d had with her brother the day before. John did care about her. What they had was different. They’d connected right from the start.
She grinned. No one was more surprised than her. The gorgeous golden boy Navy SEAL with “Hermione,” as Brandon liked to call her for her supposed resemblance to the actress in the Harry Potter movies, didn’t exactly fit.
