Friendly Fire (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 3) (10 page)

Subdued slightly by the thought of their passion fading, she watched him tackle the buttons on his shirt. Then he shrugged out of it, revealing a chest comprised of lean muscle and pale skin which, despite the sun he'd already gotten, never seemed to tan. The unexpected display of scars marring his perfect torso made her gasp.

But as he reached for the front of his trousers, all thoughts of battle scars and fleeting feelings dissipated from her mind. Her sex throbbed as she anticipated the sight of his manhood naked and erect. How many times had she imagined this moment?

The prospect of his immediate possession nearly sent her into orgasm.

The buzz of a phone shattered the perfect moment.

Jeremiah glared at the fat phone he had set on the table next to him.

"Your phone works out here?" Emma asked, hearing the frustration in her own voice.

"It's a sat phone. Works everywhere there's satellite coverage." He reached for it reluctantly, flipped it open and scanned a message on the screen. "Oh, wow."

Despite his exclamation, she almost didn't want to ask. She simply wanted him to touch her. "What is it?" she said finally.

"Tristan just won $5,000 at the slots."

"No way!" Why couldn't Tristan have won it in half an hour? Why couldn't he have kept it to himself? Why did Jeremiah care about money at a time like this?

She nearly asked him that when he spoke again.

"Your sister says she can't get away to pick up Sammy, and she needs you to do it."

Emma jerked to her elbow. "What time is it?" God, what kind of mother was she to lose track of the hour?

Jeremiah's face fell as he looked down at her. "It's only eleven thirty."

She wilted in relief. "Oh, good. I still have twenty minutes. As long as I'm there by ten to twelve, I'm okay."

He sighed and put his phone back on the table. And then he hovered over her again, studying her intently. "That's not enough time," he said at last.

"It's not?" Disappointment rushed through her. She was fairly certain she would unravel in mere seconds. If he would just unbutton his slacks and make her his...

"I don't want twenty minutes, English. I want forever."

His assertion struck her dumb. All she could do was stare up at him.

"No answer?" he prompted with a firming of his mouth.

"Why would you even bring that up?" she asked, feeling strangely betrayed, and even to her own ears, she sounded stricken. "Didn't you hear a word I told you yesterday? What we're feeling isn't going to last. It's only temporary!"

"Are you sure you're not trying to convince yourself?"

"No!" she railed. "I'm trying to tell you what I know to be true."

His face hardened. "So what are we doing here? All you want from me is a short-term fling, right?" he concluded.

His accusation flooded her with shame. But she'd been alone a long time. Who was he to judge her? "Well, why not?" she asked on a note of desperation.

His answering smile failed to reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Emma," he said in a low voice, "but I don't do temporary."

Reaching for the shirt he had cast onto the adjacent seat, he swung himself off her chair and stalked to the railing where he threaded his arms through his sleeves and started buttoning it, keeping his back to her.

Shoot!
Awash in chagrin, Emma clambered off the chaise longue, tugging her dress down and quickly zipping it up. Regret pressured her chest. An apology hovered in her throat. She had chased him away—again. Was she destined to repeat history? Couldn't she just acknowledge his romanticism and relent to the possibility of forever?

No, she couldn't. It would be cruel to mislead him. One of them had to be a realist.

"I think I should go," she said, locating her sandals and slipping them on. Her body ached, unfulfilled. Why couldn't Jeremiah be an opportunist like most men?

"I'll walk you out," he offered as she headed to the door, her knees wobbling slightly.

Moments later, he peeked into the hall and motioned for her to follow, before closing the door softly behind them.

In silence, they rode the elevator to the tenth level and coursed the busy corridor. In the casino, they found Tristan and Juliet exchanging their buckets full of coins for a more practical form of currency. Juliet glanced over at their approach and did a double take.

Her gray eyes searched Emma's face. With a word to Tristan, she broke away to pull her sister off to one side. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Emma fought the urge to cry. "I'm fine. Congrats on winning so much money. Is he going to give you some?"

"Half," Juliet replied, her gaze watchful. "We interrupted something," she guessed.

"I'm going to go get Sammy now," Emma said, not bothering to answer. Walking away, she had to pass Jeremiah on her way to the hall. He shot her a guarded glance, his expression identical to the day she'd begged him to drop her class.

Averting her gaze, she hurried off toward Kids' Zone.

* * *

Juliet watched her sister leave. Not five seconds later, Bullfrog turned and did the same, heading in a different direction.

"I wish we hadn't texted them," she lamented as Tristan turned to her with a fat wad of dollar bills. "They needed more time to work things out."

"Tomorrow, we wake up in Belize," he recalled. "You three are supposed to go tubing while Bullfrog and I ride ATVs."

"Right. And tubing is an all-day affair. They're not going to work things out if they're not spending time together."

"We could rectify that." He slapped the bills against his palm.

"How?" she asked.

"I tell Bullfrog that I'm dying to impress you with my driving skills and ask him to trade his excursion ticket for yours."

The twinkle in his dark blue eyes disturbed her because she couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. Did he really want to show off his skills to her, or was he mocking himself, which she'd noticed he had a tendency to do? It was one of the many things she liked about him, actually.

"You're assuming that I'd willingly give up my ticket in order to be with you." She propped her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't you think you're exaggerating your charm just a little?"

He belted out a laugh that caused her own lips to twitch.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that," he replied. "But, seriously, Bullfrog would much rather tube through those Mayan caves than get his thrills and chills watching me drive. He gets enough of that whenever we train in the desert."

Picturing Tristan behind the wheel of a desert patrol vehicle made her smile. The crazy nut had to love every minute of being a SEAL.

"What about me?" she asked him. "Am I going to enjoy myself four-wheeling?"

"I'll make sure of it. Plus I'll take you shopping in Belize City afterward and spend my half of the winnings on you." He waggled his eyebrows as he started counting out the money.

"Too bad I hate shopping," she retorted.

He glanced up in astonishment. "A woman who hates shopping?"

"There are a few of us," she allowed.

"Damn," he shook his head and looked back down at the bills in his hands. "Where have you been all my life?" he muttered.

Her pulse skipped at the comment, which clearly hadn't meant anything because he went right back to counting. "Two thousand three hundred, four hundred, five hundred. Here's your half." He held it out to her. "Don't spend it all at once, unless you want to buy me a new motorcycle."

"Right," she said, grabbing hold of the money.

But he did not let go. "Can I get a thank-you kiss for sharing my money with you?" he asked innocently.

She repressed the thrill that raced through her. "Technically, I won it all because I pulled the handle," she said.

"If you say so." He grinned at her but he still didn't let her have her half.

Heaving a sigh of mock disgust, Juliet slid the fingers of her free hand into his wavy hair and pulled his head down, glimpsing surprise in his eyes. She tried not to smile as she molded her lips against his sensually shaped mouth.

Mmm. Nice
. Lingering just long enough to hint at what he would miss, she pulled away, tugging the money out of his slack fingers as she stepped back.

"I'll see you in the Fiesta Galley at 8:30 a.m.," she said. "Bring Bullfrog's excursion ticket, and I'll bring mine."

With a smile that felt far more flirtatious than she intended, she brushed past him, pocketing her money in the black shorts she wore and walking away fast.

"Don't follow me, don't follow me," she chanted as she hurried to the elevator.

God, she loved raising the ante on Tristan by keeping him on his toes, but she'd come off looking like a femme fatale just now, and the truth was she'd had very little practice at that.

Tristan's appeal gave her cause to fear that she might actually fall for him. And then where would she be? She'd be just another one of his conquests, memorable only for the fact that she'd helped him to get over Mariah, whom she'd heard enough about in the last seventy-two hours to decide she was the most adolescent, manipulative woman on planet Earth. Juliet did
not
want to follow in that woman's footsteps.

"Juliet."

Oh, crap, he was coming after her! Resisting a backward glance, she increased her speed. He could move a lot faster in his loafers than she could in her three-inch heels.

"Wait."

She rounded the corner pretending not to hear him.

Waiting for the elevator was out of the question. If he caught up to her, she was fairly certain what would happen next. He would back her into a corner and finish the kiss she'd just laid on him. Only he would give it to her long and deep. Her legs went weak at the thought.

If she took the stairs, she might get away yet.

Too bad that option didn't sound as exciting as the first one. And she
was
supposed to be living it up on this cruise. But Emma would be looking for her when she got back with Sammy. She would need someone to talk to, and that someone had always been Juliet, the down-to-earth sister. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked.

Plus, the alternative of yielding to Tristan's incredible appeal while in the elevator would most certainly lead to something more. And having sex with him would be S-T-U-P-I-D.

Turning the corner, she ripped off her heels and bounded down the stairs, taking them three at a time. By the time Tristan neared the elevator, she would have vanished from his sight.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Emma called as Juliet crossed the boardwalk. "We're over here," she added, pointing out the excursion sign marked "Bottoms Up Cave Tubing."

Juliet came back, tugging the brim of her pink golf cap lower to shade her eyes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you." She gestured toward the other group where Tristan stood, conspicuously fit and tan amidst paunch-bellied men and skinny youths. "I'm switching excursions with Bullfrog, so I can hang out with Tristan. I hope that's okay with you," she added.

Emma snapped her open mouth shut and glared at Tristan, who stood there scratching his neck and trying to act like he hadn't planned the whole thing.

"You're setting me up," she accused her sister—although looking around, she couldn't see Jeremiah anywhere.

Juliet hitched her backpack higher. "Look, caves really don't do anything for me. Claustrophobic, remember? Plus I'd really like to spend the day with Tristan," she tacked on.

Torn, Emma looked back at the golden-haired SEAL. He and Juliet made an attractive couple. Good for her—living up to their promise and having a good time.

"Fine," she relented. "Just watch yourself," she warned.

Juliet took a step back in her direction. "What does that mean?"

Emma glanced at Sammy to make sure she wasn't listening. "I've heard that Tristan's never been alone, and I know you like your freedom. That's all."

Juliet's eyes narrowed under the brim of her ball cap. "Thanks," she said.

Turning away, her sister joined Tristan's group while Emma searched the pier for Jeremiah. After the previous night's abrupt derailment, she wouldn't blame him if he skipped the day's excursion altogether.

One by one, groups boarded their buses and departed, including Tristan and Juliet's, but the Bottoms-up-Cave-Tubing people hung around waiting for their missing passenger. Emma eyed the thunderclouds looming on the inland horizon, surging toward Belize City. Maybe this wasn't the best day to go tubing anyway.

"Well, it's time to go," said the guide, shepherding them toward the bus.

Disappointment dragged Emma's steps. Jeremiah wasn't coming. Why was she so glum when she was the one who'd insisted they had no future together?

As the bus idled in preparation to leave, their guide sketched them a brief history of Belize. The bus gave a shudder and Emma looked up to see Jeremiah making his way up the aisle. He shot her a grin that made his dimple flash and dropped into an empty bench across from her and Sammy's.