Page 15 of Keeping Guard
Okay, then. “Exactly what falls under desperate? Just so I don’t call you when I shouldn’t. Not that I’m going to call you at all. But you never know what I might consider desperate that you don’t. So, give me a list of—”
Oh God, he was kissing her!
“You kissed me,” she said, stating the obvious when he stepped back, but that kiss, his setting all her nerve endings on fire, had her wanting more, more, more. He’d just updated her life goals, moving “get a whole lot of kisses from this man” to the top spot.
“It seemed the easiest way to make you stop talking. But I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You can kiss me again if you want.” Like a hot kiss with tongue would work. That she had a thought like that with a man she’d just met...well, she hardly knew herself. But this was the new her, the woman who was going to go after what she wanted. And she wanted to feel tingly. Noah was just the man to make that happen.
“No more kisses.” He backed toward the door. “Take care of yourself, Peyton.”
“You’re no fun.” If she hadn’t been looking at his mouth, she would have missed the slight twitch of an almost smile.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Oh, wait,” she called to him as he headed for the elevator. “I need to give back your clothes.”
“Keep them.”
And with that, he was gone. She sighed. Such a shame she’d never get to experience another Noah kiss. Even though it had only been lips to lips, she’d definitely tingled. That was a good sign, though. At least she now knew that she could tingle. It just had to be with the right man, and that definitely wasn’t Dalton.
She closed then locked the door, which reminded her. Dalton had keys to her loft, and she needed to get the locks changed. The sooner the better. She didn’t trust her father or Dalton not to pull a stupid stunt. Her plan had been to ask Noah to move into her guest bedroom for a week or so, until she was sure that her father and Dalton accepted that there wasn’t going to be a wedding.
That was one reason she’d wanted to show him her loft, so he could see that it would beat living in that tiny apartment of his. She’d gotten up early and made him breakfast, hoping to sweeten him up, but he’d been a grumpy bear, and she’d known she’d get a hard no.
If the man slept, he might not start his mornings mad at the world. She’d woken up several times and could hear him moving around the apartment. When she’d come out to make him breakfast, he was standing at the living room window, staring out. Her good morning greeting had been met with silence.
The man had demons, and, more curious than she should be, she wanted to know what they were. She’d resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and soothe his troubled soul, but oh, she’d wanted to.
When he’d refused a beer or coffee, she’d realized he would also refuse to temporarily move into her guest room, so it was on to plan B...whatever that was. If nothing else came from meeting Noah, she’d gotten a kiss, a taste of what was possible. Surely there was another man out there besides him who could make her tingly. She just had to find him.
Why the hell had he kissed her? It was a stupid move. Now he wanted more. But whatever. In a few days, he’d forget about her.
You sure about that, Alba?
He ignored the voice in his head.
As he pulled up to his apartment to pick up the dog, he realized he was singing Keith Urban’s “Kiss a Girl.” That he was singing was a surprise, and not a good one. He’d stopped singing after getting the team’s dog and Asim, their translator—a young man they all liked—killed. Although he’d never had aspirations to pursue a career in music, he had a good voice and loved to sing. But he didn’t deserve to do something he enjoyed.
His guitar was packed away in its case for good. He’d intended to leave it back in his Virginia Beach apartment, but at the last minute, he’d grabbed it, along with his duffel bag. As soon as he walked into the temporary apartment, he put it in a corner of the closet where he couldn’t see it.
The last time he’d had it out was the day he was giving Asim a lesson. Even after a dozen or so sessions, Asim’s fingers were still clumsy on the instrument, but Noah had never seen anyone more determined to learn to play.
The next day, Asim and Snoop, the team’s dog, were blown to bits by a bomb because of him. Because he hadn’t done his job.
Noah buried his face in his hands, willing the movie constantly playing in his head to go away, but it was there. Every fucking minute of the day and night. Sleep was a thing to be dreaded. The nightmares were too real. He was drowning in guilt and sorrow, and there was no life ring to save him.
Operating on reliable intel, their mission had been to locate a bomb maker hiding out in a village. The hut where the target was supposed to be was empty, so the team spread out to search the other buildings. Noah entered a dusty room to clear it, only finding an old man too frail to get out of bed.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he said, even though he knew the elder didn’t understand him. The man looked back at him with humiliation and hate in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he pulled the cover down so he could search the elder for weapons or a bomb.
After completing his search of the man and the room, he called for Asim to interrogate the man. “See if you can get him to tell you if our target is actually still in the village and where he could be hiding,” he told Asim. “I’m going to see if anyone else has found anything.”
He went outside, his gaze scanning the area for his teammates. Snoop—his nose to the ground—was heading toward the mud house he’d just left. Snoop disappeared inside. Noah frowned, his stomach twisting. Had he missed something? When Snoop didn’t come right back out, Noah ran toward the hut. Before he reached the door, an explosion knocked him to the ground. He rolled over, and when he looked back at the house, all he saw was devastation.
“Sweet Jesus,” he gasped. He pounded the ground with his fist. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” This was his fault. How the hell had he missed a bomb?
Dallas Manning, his teammate and best friend, ran up to him. “You okay, Double D? The hell happened?”
