The Marine's Virgin Lover (12 page)

Looking around the room, Jared spied a woman who looked equally as miserable as he felt. Watching her, he could see the play of emotions across her face as she attempted to pay attention to whatever her table companion was talking about. It didn’t seem to last as she would scan the room at times in desperation. Looking for something. Rolling his latest pint between his hands, he watched her. She didn’t appear to be his type. He liked small, fragile-looking women who knew how to dress to please. This one, well, to quote his granddad, she looked to be of Irish peasant stock. Good for breeding. Not much else.

Her hair was a riotous mess reminiscent of the Blackhills at sunrise and she clearly wasn’t wearing any makeup. Smiling to himself, he guessed her to be a schoolteacher. A school marm, as granddad would say. Jared wondered if she was on a blind date. Maybe a hook-up from one of those dating sites one of his friends was always going on about. Jared didn’t see the point of paying money to some company in the hopes of finding potential partners. The whole concept sounded too much like a train wreck waiting to happen and Jared wasn’t interested.

As he watched the woman, there was something about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, yet he couldn’t stop staring. She seemed to be the only real person in the room. Grabbing his beer, he inclined his head as he watched her get up from her booth and walk toward the can, which would take her past his table. Pretending to pay attention to his date, he watched her walk. Her ankles wobbled, but she was someone who walked with purpose. Jared liked that. Excusing himself, he headed to the can. He pretended to check for messages while he waited for her.

He could hear her grumbling and talking to herself and he couldn’t help smiling. The amount of profanity he was hearing would rival some mess halls. As he pocketed his phone, the door flung open as she spilled out. Catching herself, he smiled when he heard her grouse. Oh, this one is feisty. Maybe she was his type after all.

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Returning to her table, Rita looked around for the owner of that voice. His rumble went straight to her inner core as she thought about how long it had been since she had sex with a human. The last two years of her marriage to Tuck was spent in separate bedrooms and she’d been back in San Diego for more than a year. Too long, she thought. Spying him, she looked him over. Blond hair, crew cut, cut muscles. Oh, he was yummy looking. She caught a glimpse of tattoos peeking out from his shirtsleeves as she wondered how many he had.

Yes, this one was definitely her type. And that voice. It was rare that someone could affect her that quickly and usually it involved some heavy petting and making out. But this one, those few words raised the hairs on her arms. And those eyes, she could get lost in those eyes. Smirking, she contemplated getting into more than one spat with him simply for the make-up sex. All hands and mouth. Looking up, she flushed as he caught her watching him. What must he think of her, she thought. Turning her head, she looked at Mike who was back to talking about foreclosures. Had he even noticed that she left the table? Rita doubted it, as she smirked, wondering if he’d stopped talking while she was gone.

As the evening finally drew to a close, Rita walked out of the pub to say her goodbyes to Mike. She smiled politely as she listened to him ask about seeing her again and gave a noncommittal response as she mumbled something about checking her schedule. As she headed to her car, she spotted The Voice as he walked his date to his truck. She was tiny and perfect. He had his hand casually at the small of her back and she seemed to fit perfectly along his side.

She was dressed to the nines in a form-fitting dress Rita would never consider wearing and her make-up was impeccable. Disappointment punched her in her stomach as she realized that she wasn’t The Voice’s type. As she opened her car door, she looked up. He had placed his date in the truck and was watching her from the driver’s side. His intensity rolled across the parking lot. Smiling slightly in a way that looked more like a grimace, Rita dove for the safety of her car narrowly missing giving herself a concussion on the doorframe. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the steering wheel. Slowly exhaling, she started the car, happy at least to have a new fantasy to take to bed with her. Oh, he might be good for several nights.

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Owned By The Navy Seal (Book 1)
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