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Facing him completely, she asked over the
music, “Do I at least get to know your name?”
“Rafe,” he answered leaning closer. “What
about your name?”
“I’m—”
“Delaney Kiojah Byrd.” A masculine voice
floated out from the music and wrapped around her, causing
goose bumps to explode up all over her skin.
Oh shit.
It was a tone she knew well. A deep and thick lazy Texas
drawl that could turn her from respectable woman to hussy
craving his touch all over her. What the hell is he doing
here? I must be imagining things. The way her body was
reacting, Delaney knew there was no such luck for her on
that front.
Rafe stared behind her, one eyebrow raised.
“And you are?”
“The one who will hurt you if you don’t walk
away right now.” Masculine assuredness flowed from the tone.
Without turning around, Delaney sighed. “Let
me handle this, Rafe. I’ll come find you in a few.”
He glanced between the two of them. “Are you
sure?”
“She’s sure,” the one behind her answered.
“I’ll be at the bar,” Rafe told her and
walked off.
Spinning around ready to blast the speaker
for his highhanded arrogance, Delaney promptly lost her
breath. Before her stood the man she’d spent a year with.
The only man on the face of this earth who knew her body as
well as she did, perhaps better. A few inches over six feet,
muscular body, tanned skin, black hair kept in a close
marine cut, and dark sapphire blue eyes which could—and
did—turn her into mush. Marine pilot Garrick “Paladin”
Stark.
“First Lieutenant Garrick Stark,” she said,
doing her best to ignore the pull this man had on her. “How
nice to see you again.”
His gaze blazed with possessiveness as he ran
it over her body, making her want to shift and tug on her
clothing. Or remove it all together
and jump his fine ass.
“Actually, it’s Captain Stark now.”
Captain Stark. Ohhh, that sounds so much
better.
“Congratulations on your promotion. If you’ll
excuse me—”
“No. I don’t think so, sugar.”
She bit back her whimper at his endearment.
Before he’d entered her life, she’d despised names like that
being attached to her, but when they rolled off his tongue,
with that toe curling Texas twang it was all she could do to
stop the flood of moisture from escaping. “I don’t really
care what you think; I owe the bartender a dance.”
His black lashes lowered and hid his eyes but
not the fire that shot from them. “You go dance a dance with
your pretty boy bartender. I’ll wait.”
Lifting her chin, she glared at him. “You
seem to be under the impression I’m going to be going
anywhere with you.”
“You are.” Garrick stepped closer and her
body tingled and grew wetter with unrestrained desire.
“Either walking at my side or tossed over my shoulder.”
Lowering his face to hers he whispered, “One dance, sugar.
And dressed the way you are, there’d better be a hell of a
lot space between y’all. Or I’ll rip the parts of his body
off him what touches you.”
It took all of her willpower not to close the
minute distance between them and kiss his bow-shaped lips.
“Arrogant…” she muttered before stomping off.
He wasn’t ever jealous or possessive like
this back in Japan.
Soon she had found Rafe and they were out on
the floor dancing, but even as she moved with the handsome
man her mind was upon none other than Garrick Stark. Captain
Garrick Stark. After the dance, she exchanged numbers with
Rafe but made her way to the side.
I can’t believe I’m letting him tell me what
to do. I’m a grown woman for cryin’ out loud.
Setting her jaw, Delaney prepared herself for a battle.
Hot or not, I’m in charge of my life, not him. Even she
didn’t believe that.
Garrick leaned against a pillar and watched
as Delaney Byrd moved across the room toward him. Arms
crossed he had a hard time staying to the side while she
danced with that damn bartender. His gaze moved up her form.
Damn her! His cock was harder than the floor of which
he stood upon. Delaney wore a leather mini skirt, with full
length side zippers, a tight cut off shirt the same color as
her wine hued boots, which showed her flat belly. Her dark
brown hair with its coppery red highlights was gathered up
and left to fall free down her back. Knee-length four inch
heeled leather boots made him realize how much he’d missed
her legs wrapped around him. The urge to smash every man’s
face in was right at the surface.
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