Chapter 1
Jax Andersson ran his finger around the top of his old-fashioned glass of whiskey, ignoring the raucous laughter of a group down the bar and letting the world slip out of focus.
He’d seen enough for today.
“Another?” asked the bartender, and Jax nodded once. He sat up straighter and tossed the rest of his drink back, pushing the glass toward the bartender.
“You visiting someone in town?” he asked Jax.
An image flashed in his mind, Jessa’s tortured face as she reached to slam the door behind him, and his stomach heaved. “No.” He picked up his drink and turned his attention to the TV, letting his eyes close too long between blinks. The whiskey was doing its magic.
The bartender began wiping the bar but stopped and turned his head when the bell over the door jingled. “Evening. How’re you doing tonight?” he asked.
“Good, thank you.”
Jessa.
Jax couldn’t have helped the whip of his neck if he’d tried. There she was, standing in front of the door, coolly assessing his stare, and his balls clenched tightly.
God, she’s gorgeous.
Long black hair to her waist, straight as an arrow. Wide-set eyes so brown they were nearly black. Amber skin that seemed to glow from within, her Cherokee heritage shining through time. He could have drawn her picture, he’d imagined her face so often.
She slowly began moving toward the bar. To the bartender, she said, “I’ll take a glass of Cabernet, please.” She sat down beside Jax and turned to him with a polite smile. “Hi, Jax.”
Her arm was brushing his, the lightest touch setting his skin on fire.
The alcohol that had been a blessing just moments before was now an eraser, firmly rubbing out the line between how he should treat the widow of his friend and his pronounced attraction to this woman.
His eyes were homing in on hers in an animalistic way that screamed, I want you.
He ripped his gaze away and sucked in a deep breath.
He didn’t want to be around her right now, hadn’t planned on any company.
He’d been wound tight when he checked in at the hotel across the street and come here hours earlier after leaving her house, and he would have sworn the whiskey had long since made him numb.
Except that numbness was being replaced by something else far more dangerous — an urgent need for sensation.
“Hey,” he said, searching her face for some kind of explanation. Hours before, she’d slammed the door in his face and sent him away after he’d driven all night to tell her the news he’d waited years to deliver.
We killed the man who murdered your husband.
It should have given her closure. Relief. Happiness. But instead she’d gotten angry.
So angry.
What had possessed her to come looking for him? He spoke deliberately, wanting to sound more sober than he was. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”
The bartender brought her wine and she fiddled with the stem. “I calmed down.”
His eyes roamed over her face, as tangible as a touch. Just to look at this woman gave him more pleasure than almost anything he could do with another, the closeness of her body beside him warming him like the heat from a fire.
She sighed. “I knew I owed you an apology for the way I acted earlier. I didn’t want that to be the last thing I ever said to you.”
The finality of her words made his jaw clench. While it had been two years since he’d last seen her face, she’d been in his life on some level or another for far longer than that, and he wasn’t prepared to let her go.
What do you expect, now that Ralph’s dead?
When her husband was alive, he and Ralph worked together on HERO Force, the Hands-on Engagement and Reconnaissance Operations team. The group of former Navy SEALs and alphabet agency frontmen was a tight-knit group, and as Ralph’s wife, Jessa had held a place in it from the beginning.
Long enough for Jax to know her well and realize what a lucky bastard Ralph was to have her. Hell, maybe he was even a little jealous.
Then Ralph was gone, and Jax was left with a desire for Jessa he had no right to act upon. Sitting next to her right then, the smell of her perfume light on the thick barroom air, he was covered in her, steeped in her presence and beginning to drown.
Who would have thought he had it in him?
He wasn’t sober enough to have an appropriate conversation with Jessa.
He wasn’t drunk enough, either, because her stare was making its way down his chest and back up to his eyes, and he didn’t know what to do with that beyond throwing her on the bar and showing her what that stare was doing to him.
He took a sip of his whiskey, the alcohol burning its way down his throat with a welcome flame.
She put her hand on his forearm. “Say something, Jax. You’re always so quiet.”
Pleasure shot through him at the contact. His eyes dipped to her neck and the straps of her small silver tank top glistening in the dim light of the bar. She was dripping in sex appeal. Soaked in it as if she’d deliberately bathed in its waters tonight.
A thousand comments came to mind, not one of them casual enough to cross his lips. His voice was hoarse. “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me how things are going. We haven’t talked in so long.”
“HERO Force?”
Pain flashed in her eyes. “No. You.”
I am HERO Force.
He reached for his drink. What else was there?
He’d started HERO Force. Lived it every day, showered with it, lifted weights and fired guns with it.
He’d hand selected the others and chosen the jobs they took on.
If HERO Force was off-limits as a conversation topic, he was damn near out of options beyond I want to see you naked.
He slipped into his comfortable mask of nonchalance and shrugged. “I’m good.”
He shifted in his seat. He was already sporting wood from sitting so close to her, his mind running free of its reins from the alcohol he’d consumed. This was Jessa his arm was brushing up against, Jessa who was staring so intently at him, Jessa who was like a siren screaming for his attention.
And she had it. She’d always had it.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.
He nearly spit out his whiskey and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “No.”
She smirked and bumped against him. “You don’t take women out to dinner and a movie? Invite them to spend the night?”
The physical contact and the intimacy of the question made adrenaline burst into his bloodstream. “Sure.”
“Well, that’s seeing someone.” She grinned.
He stared into her eyes, needing her to understand.
Her smile fell.
“I don’t see them at all,” he said. It was the closest he’d come to crossing the line, as close as he’d allow himself to go without an invitation. He watched her reaction intently, like a poker player searching for a tell.
She took a sip of her drink, the glass trembling in her hand. Her face flushed, the high color making her amber skin glow.
“Let’s talk about you,” he said. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.”
“No dinners, no movies, no sleepovers?” He might have been copying her question, but his tone of voice was dripping with every implication he wanted to voice.
She lifted her head and stared at the bar, her rib cage rising and falling with each breath. “No.”
Jesus, she hasn’t been with anyone since Ralph.
Blood rushed to his cock. He shifted on his barstool. It was too much, all of it. This woman. Her outfit. The little touches and bumps of her body into his. And she hadn’t had sex with anyone in years.
She must be starving for the connection sex could bring, the physical release. She’d been grieving her husband, of course. But a woman like that would have every opportunity for love, and she’d taken none of them.
She’s a mother. She’s busy, not sitting around wishing for a man.
“The baby must take up a lot of your time,” he said, wondering again if she’d had a boy or a girl. He opened his mouth to ask, but she held up her hand.
“I don’t want to talk about the baby. I came here to get away from all that.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why else did you come here, Jessa?”
The air between them was thick. His hand clenched his glass on the bar, and he forced his grip to relax before it shattered. She looked nervous now. Her eyes dropped to her wineglass and she was clearly considering her answer.
“I was tired of packing,” she said. “A little sad thinking about leaving the place I’ve lived for years. I figured a drink would be nice.”
That was a lie. He’d been trained to tell. She’d been packing, all right, but something else had sent her in search of him, and he wanted — needed — to know what it was.
“You knew I would be here,” he said.
Her fingers tightened on her wineglass. “I’m lonely, Jax.”
Fuck.
He felt like he’d been sucker-punched, her words like some sort of attack on his restraint.
She turned toward him fully, resting her hand on his forearm again, the sensation traveling up his arm and down lower, lighting up his senses.
“It’s been so hard,” she said. “I’ve been by myself for so long, and then today you were there and…I thought maybe…”
The pulse in his groin was throbbing now.
She licked her lips. “Maybe we could be together.”
Be together?
She wanted to spend the night with him.
No. He must have misunderstood. She was looking for conversation, a friend to catch up on old times with, nothing more, and he worked to reign in his enthusiasm. She stared at him, waiting for a reaction, but he had no idea what to say.
She blew out air and pushed her wine away. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” She stood up and his hand shot out, grabbing her forearm tightly.
“Wait.” Beneath his grip, she was warm and soft and too much of what he wanted. He held on tightly, his thumb stroking her tentatively. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
She pulled her arm away. “Never mind.”
“Jessa, if you’re saying you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here for you. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, you’re always welcome to use mine.”
She didn’t look up.
“But that’s not what you’re asking me for, is it?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and he touched her chin to tip her face up. “Open your eyes.”
A beat passed before she complied, her eyes open to his, the truth shining in their glassy depths. She was asking him to make love to her.
He took a quick breath in. “Let’s get out of here.”