It froze on her lips. Because it wasn’t Natches or one of her cousins. It wasn’t even her uncle Ray or the overprotective Faisal.
It was Alex.
He stared down at her, his expression as stoic as always, his brows heavy over his thunderous gray eyes, his brown and dark blond hair a little longer than it had been six months before.
He moved into the office, the slightest limp betraying the wound he had come home with.
“Restaurant’s closed,” she told him, turning to face him, still holding the door open. “Or did you somehow miss the sign in front?” She widened her eyes innocently. “I forgot to put one on the back door, huh? Geez, who knew customers could get turned around that easy.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Janey.” He sighed, running his hand over his short hair. It wasn’t quite a buzz cut anymore, but it was close.
And he was too damned sexy for words. Dark flesh that always looked tanned. Those dark, stormy gray eyes and lashes thick enough to make a woman want to kill for them.
She closed the door. Slowly. Quietly. She wasn’t going to give in to the need to slam it. Robots didn’t slam doors, did they?
“Fine. So tell me what kind of problem you had with locked doors and closed signs.” She moved around him back to the desk, poured another half glass of wine, and faced him.
She had a feeling a bottle of whiskey wouldn’t be enough to numb her against Alex.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks, his lips quirking with a small grimace as he looked around the office, before his gaze moved back to hers.
“I’m sorry about Catherine,” he finally said.
Janey rolled her eyes. “You going to apologize for the rest of the night, too?” She shook her head and sighed wearily. “Hell, Alex, she wasn’t the first. She won’t be the last.”
He was silent, staring back at her, his expression heavy.
“Why are you here?” She waved the wineglass toward the room. “It’s after midnight. Didn’t Catherine
want to put out after you made her leave?”
His frown deepened. “Maybe I was the one that didn’t want to put out.”
“Oh. I’m sure.” She sat on the corner of the desk, pushing back until her feet dangled off the cold floor as she sipped at her wine. “Still hurting from that leg wound?”
She nodded to the hard thigh muscle—hell, she shouldn’t have looked there—where he had taken a bullet to his leg in Iraq. Alex was always getting shot, knifed, or almost blown up. He’d come home for a while, heal, and be back at it.
“The leg doesn’t stop me from putting out, Janey,” he drawled, that quirk of his lips turning into a half smile. “And I don’t need excuses not to spend a night with a woman. Catherine was being a bitch and she knew it.”
She widened her eyes mockingly. “You said the B word, Alex. Bad boy. You should never call a woman a bitch.”
He grunted at that.
“You’ve been in the military too long,” she told him.
“Probably.” He looked around the office again. “Do you live here, Janey? Shouldn’t you be upstairs relaxing instead of hanging around the office?”
“Shouldn’t you tell me why you care?” She arched her brow. “Really, Alex, your girlfriend didn’t hurt my feelings. You can go give her a little nasty with a clear conscience now.”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t be f**king her if that was what I wanted to do?” he growled.
Janey widened her eyes again, pretending to be scandalized. “Your language, Alex.”
Actually, she might be having fun.
“I don’t beat around the bush, Janey.” He pulled his hands from his pants pockets and folded them across that mile-wide chest of his. “You want to talk sex, I’m all for it. But don’t expect me to get flowery over it. And don’t think I forgot about the question I asked you.”
Why the hell was he here? Janey stared back at him, trying to make sense of his presence. Six months since he had pulled her out of Nadine’s house, a month since he’d come home, and she hadn’t seen him.
Why now? Why like this?
“I just closed up.” She lifted the wine and sipped at it. “I was relaxing a few moments before I had to haul my tired butt up those stairs.”
“Lock up. I’ll carry you up.”
He was serious. Janey blinked up at him, then forced herself to finish the wine before sliding off the edge of the desk. She could feel the tension now. It was coming off him in waves. Sexual tension.
“Just because I may have somehow caused you to miss out on a little piece of tail tonight doesn’t mean I’m willing to substitute myself for her.” She slid her shoes back on, the three-inch heels giving her almost enough added height that she didn’t feel as though he was towering over her.
She could feel that tightening in her chest again. But it wasn’t claws tearing at her; it was a sense of excitement. And she didn’t need it.
“Did I ask you to f**k me?”
Her stomach clenched at the sound of his voice. He might not be asking for it, but she had a feeling he was thinking about it. And she was thinking about it. And she was stepping into seven different kinds of trouble if she dared to mess with this man.
“Good thing you didn’t,” she told him softly, staring back at him regretfully. “I don’t think you’d have much fun.”
“Really?” he drawled.
“Yeah. I hear virgins are a bore to men of your advanced years, Alex. Go find your girlfriend. She’ll give you better sport.”
Alex stared back at her. Years of training kept his expression from slackening in total shock. And a superhuman effort kept his hands from reaching out for her and jerking her against him.
“A virgin?”
“See? I’m not even fair game,” she told him as she collected her purse and keys. “Are you ready to leave now? Because I’m kind of tired.”
She opened the door, forcing herself not to shiver as the cold February air whipped around her stocking-clad legs.
“I’ll walk you up.”
He looked determined, implacable.
“Alex, I don’t need another guard dog.” She sighed as he stepped out.
She set the alarm and closed the door, locking it quickly behind her before moving up the wide, wood steps to the small balcony and apartment door upstairs.