And she didn’t like it. She pushed him back with the flat of her hand on that steely chest. “Stop bullying me, Johnny! I know you are mad that I didn’t do your bidding after you went to such great efforts to see that I did, but I’m not twenty-two anymore. I’m not going to put this aside just because we slept together. And you had no right to get rid of Nils whether I picked him up or not!”
She was really stepping in it with him tonight. His eyes turned black. “Don’t push me right now, Brittany. You might not like what happens.”
She shivered, fearing she’d like it a lot. What kind of warped person was she to get excited by all this raw, masculine anger? She must be going off the deep end.
“You were the one who told me I needed proof,” she said. “Well, I’m getting it.”
“How? By picking up guys in bars for information and acting like a frog hog?”
If Brittany weren’t so furious, she would have laughed. How dared he accuse her of being a slut when he was the one who was indiscriminate in bed partners?
“You have got to be kidding me. This fromyou? One of the biggest players I’ve ever met? The guy who sleptwith two women in one night to prove a point? Thanks, Johnny, but I think I’ll take my dating advice from someone else.”
•••
“That wasn’t a date,” John said. “That was you pumping some poor kid for information. Just how far were you going to go to get it, Brit?”
John knew he was being an ass, and although he wasn’t the player she thought him, he’d had his share of hookups. Okay, maybe a few more than his share, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from lashing out.
He was angry, and worse—scared. He couldn’t get that image of her in that guy’s hold out of his head.
He’d almost been too late. He’d been so pissed by what he’d witnessed in the bar—and that she was leaving with the young soldier—that he’d finished his beer rather than follow them out right away. And then he’d taken time to get rid of “Nils” first.
Previously-unknown-to-exist jealousy had nearly gotten her killed. It made him sick just thinking about it.
Brittany gasped with outrage at his accusation. She gave him a look that could kill. “It’s none of your damned business how far I would go!”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d expected her to say. “You aren’t going to deny it?”
She lifted her chin—which was too damned cute—and glared at him something fierce. “Why should I bother? Since you have obviously drawn your own conclusions, it would be a waste of time.” Those pretty blue eyes pinned him. “But I’m not sure how leaving a bar with a guy equates to sleeping with him.”
It didn’t. Or it didn’tnecessarily. But it was what had led up to it that had made him crazy. The guy had been touching her. He’d been leaning in tight and had hishands on her. John had wanted to kill something—preferably the other guy.
“So, the flirting and sexy getup is a coincidence—is that it?” His eyes drew down the length of the low-cut blouse, skimpy shorts, and strappy fuck-me sandals, which, given that the rain was making her clothes damp and clingy, wasn’t a great idea. She looked hot, and he didn’t like it. She needed to go back to businesslike and girl-next-door. “I suppose this doesn’t have anything to do with you getting information?”
Her flush deepened just enough to let him know he’d hit a nerve—a guilty one. Or at least a not-so-innocent one.
“You had no right to spy on me. I knew someone was watching me. Where were you?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t intended to spy on her. He’d walked into the crowded bar planning to drag her out of there, but when he’d seen her laughing with the guy in the booth, it had stopped him cold in his tracks. He’d felt something hard and tight in this chest. Something that made him feel as if acid were eating away at his lungs. Something he didn’t recognize.
He’d taken a seat in the opposite corner of the bar to wait for it to go away, but it had only gotten worse. The burning started to pound through his veins. It felt like anger, but he realized it was a different kind of anger. It was jealousy. And that had taken a couple beers to deal with.
He didn’t get jealous. At least he never had before. So why now?
He must be getting old. That was it. Could you have a midlife crisis at twenty-nine?
Maybe when he got home and this mess was all behind him, he’d buy a car. Pathetic old guy in a sport car was better than pathetic old guy getting jealous over some kid.
That wasn’t her type, was it? Clean-cut, Boy Scout—or whatever the Norwegian equivalent—who probably hadn’t done anything more dangerous than lift his gun in target practice.
She needed someone who knew what to do with all that intensity and energy she gave off. Someone who was as strong-willed as she was. Someone with experience. Someone she could talk to. Someone who could make her laugh.
John’s mouth fell in a hard, grim line, recalling that she’d been laughing in the booth with Nils.
She seemed impatient and appeared to give up waiting for him to answer. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and he had to look down to make sure she wasn’t tapping her foot, which would have really pissed him off.
“Just tell me what you want, John. I assume you are here for a reason?”
