Chapter 7
Summer stepped into her hotel room, letting the door close solidly behind her.
She leaned on the wall and eased out of her shoes, her breath hissing between her teeth.
Her father was settled in a room across the hall, a SEAL named Chop in the adjoining room next door to him, while Luke was in the room connected to hers.
It had been decided her father would stay here for the duration, while she and Luke would continue on to Boston and AGL Aerospace with the others in the morning to search for the brancium. Not that she had any idea how they were going to find it.
Truth be told, she was having some second thoughts about this trip in its entirety.
Perhaps it would be better to let the police handle the investigation than to go gangbusters into there and look for it themselves.
But she knew in her heart of hearts they’d never find it if she went through the proper channels, and she wasn’t prepared to give up on the family business just because she was scared.
And exhausted.
She needed sleep. The only rest she’d gotten was at the hospital, and it hadn’t been nearly enough.
Yet she was wound up, her mind spinning in circles, and she doubted she’d be able to settle down any time soon.
She could really go for a glass or two of wine, but hell, anything alcoholic at this point would do.
She picked up the phone to call room service, just as Luke knocked on the adjoining room door.
She hung up. They’d driven here with Chop and her father and hadn’t had a chance to talk alone.
But while a part of her desperately wanted that, another piece was far less excited to reconnect.
He wasn’t just an old friend. He’d been with her brother in Afghanistan and he abandoned her afterward.
He could have been the last face Edward had seen in his life, or carried out his body.
Stop it.
But she couldn’t stop, all the men of HERO Force tied in tightly with the biggest tragedy of her life, Luke in particular.
He had details she didn’t. All the navy told them was that Edward was killed in an explosion while defending an outpost—not enough information for her inquisitive mind.
But she’d had to process it based on that information alone, wrap up its awkward shape and tape the paper shut, and his reentrance into her life was tearing that package open again.
Sweet Edward.
They’d called him Buckeye, the moniker serving to dramatize how little she understood this fraternity of men.
The SEALs were a mystery to her, the appeal they exerted on her brother like some scent she couldn’t smell.
And while they might not be active military anymore, they still had that je ne sais quoi that forever branded them brothers, and it served as a painful reminder of the actual brother she had lost.
Her bare feet made no noise on the carpet as she crossed to the door and opened it. “Hey. I was just going to order some wine. Would you like some?”
“I was just going to call down for dinner. I’ll get it for you. Are you hungry?”
She made a face, and he clucked his tongue. “You should eat.”
“You’re right. Fine. Thanks.”
“I’ll let you know when it gets here."
She closed the door between them. He didn’t want to talk to her either, that much was obvious. For people who’d exchanged emails daily for months on end, they had very little to say. She hoped he didn’t want to eat together, already planning out her excuses if he did.
She lifted her luggage onto the bed, unzipping it and pulling out clean leggings and a comfortable shirt before making her way to the shower.
The hot water felt heavenly as it cascaded over her scalp and tight shoulders, so that by the time she got out she was feeling marginally better and much more relaxed.
Luke knocked on the door just as she finished dressing, his hair wet, a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“You want to come in and watch Jeopardy while we eat?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to refuse, but Jeopardy. “I love that show.”
“I know you do. I found it on demand.” He shrugged. “Figured you could use a little downtime.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to kick your ass, so don’t get too comfortable.” He turned and walked toward the bed. His room was the mirror image of hers, but his drapes were pulled back to reveal the twinkling skyline of New York City across the Hudson River.
She walked to the window. “I have a doctorate in aerospace engineering and a master’s degree in chemistry."
“Well, I have a doctorate in trivial bullshit and a master’s in government rigamarole.”
She fought a smile, checking out his reflection in the window.
He stood with his hands on his hips, his height and physique making her feel small and feminine in contrast. “Sounds like an even match.” She watched as he uncorked the wine, the muscles of his arms standing out in the light, and felt a tingling down low in her abdomen.
He wasn’t at all how she’d pictured him from his letters. This man was physically intimidating, whereas the Wiseman in her head was goofy and fun. She had a hard time reconciling the two of them.
The Jeopardy theme song played and she settled on the bed he wasn’t using. He handed her a glass of wine and she closed her eyes, sipping the fizzing liquid. “Prosecco.” She smiled at him. “My favorite.”
"I listen.”
Alex Trebek read the categories in the background as Luke took the domed cover off the room service tray and passed her a plate of manicotti. Now she was impressed, her mouth watering at the dish. “I guess you do. I don’t even remember telling you this.”
“The date with the chiropractor who took you to Rosini’s. You said he was irritating and subversively racist, but the food was amazing.”
She laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that.” How could a shower, a glass of wine, and this man make her feel so much better? “He was such a nerd. I mean, I’m a nerd, but at least I have some social skills. That guy could barely carry on a civilized conversation.”
"I don’t think you’re a nerd.”
“Really?”
"Not at all. They just wiped out the whole category on genetic engineering and you didn't hit your buzzer once."
She gaped at the television screen. "That's my category."
He grinned. “I’m sorry. Did I distract you?”
I'll take football for 500, Alex.
He sat back and smiled. “Well, look at that. That's my category."
She considered throwing a pillow at his head but decided payback was a far more rewarding option. She dug into her manicotti as he answered all the sports questions correctly and waited for double Jeopardy to pummel him into the ground.
By the first commercial break, she had a comfortable lead and a buzz.
Luke was eating with the gusto and confidence of someone who rarely did anything wrong, and she found it fascinating.
He even ate like an alpha male. He’d definitely be the leader of any pack you put him in, his height, physical strength, and good looks only adding to the package.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.
She looked away. “No reason.”
“You’re turning red. It must be good.” He moved his tray to the other side of the bed.
She was embarrassed, but there was no reason to be. It was simply science, and she’d always found science fascinating. She put down her glass. “I was just thinking you’re very much an alpha male.”
He finished his wine, downing half the glass in one sip. “Okay. What does that mean?”
“In every pack, there’s one—”
“No. I know what an alpha male is. I mean what made you think that?”
Your biceps that look like they could crush me in a heartbeat.
Your wide shoulders and muscular ass that would look fantastic between my legs.
Holy crap.
Her face was burning up. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded strangled. “Look, Jeopardy’s back on.”
He chuckled. “No way. You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Tell me what’s going on in that ridiculously smart and snarky brain of yours.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “No.”
“Tell me now.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbled past. “I can’t! Just forget it.”
“Don’t make me come over there.”
She burst out laughing, unable to stop. He was on her in an instant and she leaned back to get away, still laughing when he grabbed her wrists. “I’m not telling you!”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind if I tickle you.”
Her eyes went wide and she writhed against the mattress. “No!” Damn him for remembering every stupid thing she’d said. No one had tickled the truth out of her since the fifth grade. He let go of one wrist, going straight for her underarm as she shrieked, trying to push him away.
Then they were wrestling, his big hands tickling her at every opportunity. “Tell me.”
She was laughing and twisting against him, loving the feel of his body pressing her into the mattress as they fought.
Was that his erection pressing into her leg?
Was he hard?
Oh my God.
They stopped moving, their eyes mere inches from each other, breath coming fast. His pupils were dilated and his face flushed. Suddenly, she wanted to tell him, wanted him to know how attractive he was to her. “I was thinking you could crush me with those arms.”
His stare dropped to her mouth, lingering there and making her ache to taste him. “What else?”
A short, frustrated moan came from deep in her throat, her hips curling closer to his.
They had already passed the point of no return.
What was the harm now? Maybe if she told him, he’d press those full lips against hers and soothe the need that was building for him.
“I was thinking how good you’d look on top of me. ”
He kissed her full on the mouth, releasing the wrist in his hand, and she wound her arms around his back as she fought the desire to spread her legs.
Things were progressing much too quickly, in part because she knew this man better than almost any other.
This was Wiseman, a guy she liked and trusted who was helping her in her time of need.
Could anything turn a woman on more than that?
It was time for final Jeopardy.
“How much you want to bet?” Luke asked.
She smiled decadently. Only a true nerd would get more turned on by Jeopardy bets during a kiss. “Two thousand.”
“I’m going all in.” He trailed kisses down the column of her neck, making her groan.
“You need to. You only have eighteen hundred.”
“You’re keeping track?”
“Hell yes.”
This term was first used in an ice cream trade journal in 1937; it began to appear in the nuclear power industry in the 60s.
His mouth was back on hers, nibbling, taking his time. “What is cold fusion?” he whispered, gently sucking on her skin.
She arched her back. “Meltdown.”
He laughed, a rumbling sound that came from deep in his belly. “You didn’t phrase it in the form of a question.”
Damn.
His phone rang and he cursed under his breath before moving off her. “I have to get this. Hey, Mac, what’s up?”
Summer refilled her wine again, just enough for a single glass now left in the bottle.
Makes girls dance and drop their pants.
She’d kept her pants on, but not by much, considering it was their first kiss.
Probably good they’d been interrupted. If she had half a brain, she’d excuse herself for the night when he got off the phone to make sure nothing else happened between them.
Hard to believe she’d never seen him before in her life until this morning.
“I’ll tell her,” Luke said. “Hey, did you remember to ask Sloan to feed my dog?”
Of course he had a dog. It was probably the size of a horse, wasn’t neutered, and ran around pissing on trees. She stood up just as Luke was getting off the phone. “Sounds good. Let’s swing by my place in the morning and pick the dog up on our way out of town. Thanks, man.” He hung up.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“Seven.”
“I should get some sleep.”
“Probably a good idea.” He put his arms around her waist like he did it every day. “You want to sleep in here or do you mean actual sleep?”
Eek!
Was he really inviting her to spend the night after one kiss? That, more than anything, proved he was in a completely different league than she was. “Actual sleep is probably a good idea.”
He released her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Good night, Summer.”
She went back to her room, shutting the door between them. Wiseman was an unexpected surprise. She climbed into bed, images from the explosion at Daniels Aerospace once again crowding her mind as if they’d been waiting for her.
What is meltdown?
She shook her head, settling beneath the covers. She never forgot to phrase it in the form of a question.
Never say never.
As she drifted off to sleep, it was Alloy 531 that was melting down, Steven Walsh laughing as it dripped from the rotating spheres of the oscillating friction accelerator straight into his pockets, the sound of the bomb overlaying the scene.
A bomb and Alloy 531.
Her eyes snapped open. The patent for 531 was pending, which meant Walsh would never be able to use it commercially, and he must have known it, too. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered to the empty room.
There was only one other thing an alloy like that was good for, and Walsh had already given her the biggest clue of all.
She climbed out of bed and knocked on the adjoining door, Luke appearing a moment later without a shirt on.
“Walsh isn’t going to use 531 for shielding supersonic jets. He’s going to use it to make bombs.”