Chapter 8 #2
“Hm. Well, if I were writing a story about all of this, I’d have the male lead fall for someone like her.”
He looked up. “Oh, yeah? You wouldn’t have the guy fall for the woman he’d rescued?”
“No, that’s been done too many times before, and I pride myself in being more unique than that.”
“Really . . .” Based on the color of her cheeks, his words had impacted her. He shouldn’t have said it, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Well, um, do you speak any other languages?” She nervously fiddled with the fork, stabbing at the food without bringing it to her mouth.
“A few,” he answered.
“By-product of your job, huh?” It was more of a statement than a question, though.
“I’m half German,” he said with a shake of his head, pissed at himself for relinquishing any additional details.
“Oh, yeah? How’d that happen?”
“My German mom and American father cohabitated.”
She let out a soft laugh.
“What?” He raised a brow. “I’m not going to say sex. They’re my parents, for Christ’s sake.”
Another laugh brushed across his skin. “True, but I was thinking more along the lines of how your parents met, I suppose.”
“You always need a backstory, don’t you?”
“If I don’t know one, I tend to make it up. It’s my job.” Her hands fell into her lap as she rolled her tongue over her teeth. “Tell me more.”
Why wasn’t he surprised she’d want to dig deeper? But his family origins weren’t exactly classified. “Pops was military. He met my mom while stationed in Germany. I was born over there, and then we moved to Naples before heading to the U.S.”
“Military brat. You moved a lot, huh?”
He nodded and swirled the golden liquid around in the glass.
“And I assume you lived in the south, based on the slight bit of Southern in your speech. Mid-Atlantic?”
Damn, she was good. She almost got him to answer Tennessee.
“How about you? Did you move a lot?” He needed to get off the topic of his life and fast. Pretty much the rest of his life story was off-limits.
Answering every question she might ask with classified would get boring real fast. He was sure she was much more interesting.
“More times than I can count.”
“I guess we have that in common.”
“Yeah, but it looks like you were okay with the constant change of scenery since you joined the Navy. But me, I hated it. Well, as a kid I did, at least.”
“So you decided you needed a change?”
“Look who’s prodding now.” She smiled.
“Well, I did look into you before you showed up at my door, trying to get a glimpse of me in my birthday suit.” His eyes narrowed as he waited and hoped for that gorgeous shyness to take up residence on her face.
“I was not trying to see you naked. And you shouldn’t have answered in a towel anyway.”
“My naked chest has never offended anyone before,” he quipped.
“Well, it, you know . . .” Her cheeks flushed, and she swallowed and looked away.
This time, it was his own bottom lip tucking between his teeth as he quietly observed the mysterious woman before him.
“We’ll make a deal to never wear towels in front of each other. Okay? We can shake on it if you’d like.” He extended a palm.
“You’re a smart-ass, huh?” She brushed away his hand, knocking over his wine glass in the process. “Shit.” She stood and went around to his side of the table.
He looked up, ignoring the wine now on his sweatpants, and found her attention focused on his crotch. Her mouth rounded, and he cleared his throat and pushed away from the table to grab a paper towel.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Let’s get back to you.” He pulled the material away from his body to pat the pants dry.
“Why do people think you’re either searching for God in the mountains of Tibet or sobering up in rehab in Europe?
” He tossed the towel, refilled his glass, and perched a hip against the kitchen island.
“Oh. Well, no one knew where I’d disappeared to, and so people just made assumptions.”
“And it doesn’t bother you they think you might be a drug addict?” He scratched at the base of his throat. “Unless, you, uh, have that problem.” Shit, for all he knew, she did.
“If it means I have my privacy, they can think I’m dead for all I care.” Her shoulders arched back. “And no, aside from trying pot once in high school, it’s safe to say I’m a good girl.”
Good girl—he’d gotten that impression, for sure.
And now his cock was hardening as he thought about tossing this “good girl” onto his bed and making her come until she saw fucking stars.
He advanced closer to her, thankful Eva’s tee was long enough to cover her ass in the leggings that clung to her curves like Saran Wrap. Maybe he’d bend her over and—
“I don’t have any kind of sad story, by the way.”
He had figured she might be hiding some ugly truth of her past, but when she faced him, he didn’t see any hint of sadness in her eyes, which was good. “So, what’s your story, then?”
Her fingertips tucked into her palms at her sides, and she shifted her weight to her right leg. Her nerves were getting to her. Was he making her uncomfortable?
“I was sick of being in the public eye all of the time. I wanted to eat a piece of pizza or go for a swim without cameras in my face.”
“I guess that’s got to be annoying.” In his line of work, he could understand the desire for privacy. Hell, his life depended on it.
“All of my family is in the public eye in one way or another. My older brother hates to have his privacy invaded, too, but he’s so rich he can hire a wall of professional wrestlers to protect him from the paparazzi everywhere he goes.”
“Are we talking Oprah-rich or . . .”
She nodded. “He’s got connections and helped me get the new identity. He didn’t even question me when I asked for help.”
“There have to be some perks to being part of a famous family.” Her dad had directed some of his favorite action flicks, and his own father had had a massive crush on Eva’s mom when Luke had been growing up. It was a bit surreal.
“Getting to know Sly, Keanu, Bruce, Denzel . . . Those were some of the highlights of my life, I guess.”
“Wow.”
“If we make it out of this alive, I can get you an introduction to anyone you’d like.”
He set his glass down on the counter. “You’ll make it out alive,” he said in a steady voice, needing her to believe him. “But, do you think these movie stars will remember who you are since you’ve been on the DL?”
Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything.
“I guess even in hiding, you ended up back in the media business, though.”
“You can’t escape blood, and the industry is in mine like the military’s in yours.
It’s just before, the expectations on my shoulders were heavy—like Atlas-holding-the-globe-on-his-shoulders heavy.
If Everly Reed fails, it’ll be a disaster, but if I plummet my career to its death as Eva Sharp, no one will care.
” She cupped her mouth, her eyes widening a hair as if she hadn’t meant to slip out that admission.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and she lowered her hand and sucked in a panicky breath before releasing it.
He stayed relaxed, simply watching her—waiting for her to spill more.
“That, um, wasn’t my original reason for leaving that life, but maybe it’s the reason why I maintain this new identity now.
Well, aside from trying to make it because of merit and not name.
” A plump bottom lip tucked between her teeth for a moment, and it had his heart slowing as his body grew ready for something—someone—he couldn’t possibly have.
“Glasses, minimal makeup, plain clothes. I learned if I slouched and didn’t make a lot of eye contact, people wouldn’t see me anymore.
I became Plain Eva. And as far as the actors at the studio are concerned, I’m a struggling writer pinching her pennies, hoping for a big break.
” She sidestepped him, brushing against his body in the process.
He turned to see her heading to the table to clean up, even though they’d barely touched their dinner. “I’m not quite sure how you can look in the mirror and see yourself as plain. Or how you could ever think you could possibly be invisible.”
She lowered the bowl she’d been holding back to the table and both her palms landed alongside it. “It’s true.”
He came up behind her. A hint of coconut and flowers caught his nostrils. He wasn’t sure what type of perfume his buddy had bought at the store for her, but he’d done a damn good job. She smelled like a sweet summer day on an island somewhere.
His fingers ran through her silky strands as he whispered close to her ear, “I see you.”
Her head dropped slightly forward as if his words had weighed her down.
He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking being so close to her, but he couldn’t seem to get himself to back away. Always in control of his actions, but he was inexplicably drawn to this woman.
“I should get some rest.” She turned, but he’d been so close she bumped into him, and he caught her arms and staggered back a step to find her eyes.
He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to take her out of this hell he’d dragged her in to and find a way to erase all of her problems.
“Not hungry, huh?” he asked, his body tightening with a continued and unexpected need to be near her—to continue to hold on to her.
“Just tired.” Her tongue rolled over her teeth as she held his gaze. “Th-thanks for the food.”
He released her, took another step back to give her space, and looped his thumbs in his front pockets. “I’m here twenty-four seven if you need me to whip you up another fine meal.”
“Thank you.” She moved out of his reach, but as she started to exit the kitchen, she paused mid-step and peered back at him. “Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” His brows furrowed.
“For whatever it is you’re doing. I assume you’re trying to keep people safe. And also for, you know, shielding my body from bullets in that truck.”
He didn’t know what to say, and so he did what he always did when someone thanked him—he forced a stiff nod and kept quiet.