Striking Distance

them.

Javier had it all.

His short, dark hair had a bit of curl, his nose straight, his jaw strong. High cheekbones, full lips, and long lashes added a boyish touch to his otherwise masculine face. He was muscular without being bulky, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.

She’d noticed him the moment she’d walked into the restaurant in Dubai. Wearing a dark T-shirt that stretched across the muscles of his chest and shoulders, he’d stood out in a room full of European businessmen in suits and Arabs wearing traditional kanduras and gutras. When he’d come to her table to rescue her from those drunk Russians, she’d known they would end up in bed. Despite what Derek Tower might think, she didn’t make a habit of sleeping with men she met in bars. Javier was the exception, and she hadn’t regretted it. He’d been the most giving lover she’d ever had—sensual, focused, attentive to the smallest details.

Something stirred inside her at the memory, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time—physical attraction.

And her sense of panic grew.

She’d thought about him for so long, wondered what it would be like to see him again. Now she knew. It was like being slapped in the face with the life she’d lost, with the life that Al-Nassar had stolen from her.

“Neither have you.”

She gave a little inadvertent laugh. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened. I saw the news broadcast when you were taken. I . . . I’ve never felt so damn helpless in my entire life.”

Laura didn’t know what to say. Most people avoided mentioning her abduction and what had followed.

He stood, walked to the fireplace, added wood to the blaze. “I followed your story. What you did took brains and guts. Speaking to them in their own language. Using their culture and beliefs to force them to see you as a human being. Yielding on the outside but fighting to stay strong on the inside.”

He spoke the words matter-of-factly, but when he turned back to face her, his gaze was soft with sympathy.

Laura looked away, his praise making her uncomfortable. She didn’t deserve it, any of it. “I’m just lucky I was able to speak Arabic and—”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” His tone was adamant, brooking no challenge. “I have a world of respect for you, Laura.”

She looked up, willed herself to meet his gaze again. If those words had come from anyone else—her mother, her grandmother, her therapist—she would have dismissed them as nothing more than attempts to distract or console her. But coming from Javier, they seemed to slip inside her.

“I would have gotten in touch with you a long time ago, but I’ve been out of the country most of the past two years. And when I didn’t hear from you, I thought maybe you didn’t want contact.”

“We said no strings.” She changed the subject. She couldn’t go there. She just couldn’t. “How do you know Nate?”

“He and I served together in Afghanistan.”

“So you are military.” She found herself smiling. “I knew it.”

A dark eyebrow arched. “Oh, yeah? What gave it away?”

“You just have that look.”

The other brow arched. “What look?”

But there was something important she needed to say. “It’s good to see you again, Javier, but you should know that I . . . I’m not the same person I was in Dubai. Too much has happened since then.”

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him. This wasn’t going to be like last time. She wasn’t going to rip off her clothes and fall into bed with him. Even if she’d wanted a relationship, a lover, she couldn’t have one. She didn’t think she was capable of enjoying sex right now. Besides, her body had changed.

If they slept together, he would discover the stretch marks on her belly, and he would know she’d had a baby. She couldn’t share that secret with anyone—not yet, not until Klara was safely with her here in the U.S.

“I’m not going to make demands of you. I’ve got no expectations.” His lips curved in a lethal lopsided grin. “But it is good to see you, too, bella.”

Bella. Beauty.

That was what he’d called her in Dubai.

She looked away. “So . . . what branch of the military were you in?”

“The navy.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I’m a SEAL.”

* * *

“YOU’RE A . . . A SEAL?”

“It’s not something I’m supposed to spread around.” Javier watched some of the tension leave Laura’s body and found himself feeling both pride at her reaction and annoyance at the fact that she seemed more at ease with him as a frogman than as the man who’d made love with her.

“I’m sure you already know this, but a team of SEALs saved my life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her motions revealing dark bruises around her wrist where that bastard Tower had grabbed her.

Someone needed to deal with him.

But before Javier could give any thought to that, he found himself in the awkward position of listening as she described her rescue. How she’d woken up to screams. How hearing American accents had made her panic. How the other women had held her back, the one Javier later killed threatening to cut out Laura’s tongue if she spoke. How she’d realized with a shock that she was American, too. How the sight of “the tall SEAL” walking toward the helicopter had pushed her into shouting out.

And Javier realized she was talking about him.

“I didn’t think he’d heard me, and I knew Zainab would kill me, but then he turned. He shouted at me to stop and get down, and I thought he was going to shoot me, but he shot her instead. He killed a woman. He didn’t even hesitate. He tore off my burka, and the next thing I knew, he was carrying me onto the helicopter.” Laura’s hands balled into fists and pressed together tightly in her lap, the only outward sign that talking about this was hard for her. “He punched Al-Nassar in the face when Al-Nassar threatened me again. He was my hero.”

How do you like that, Corbray? You’re upstaging yourself.

Javier cleared his throat. “I bet he remembers that night, too.”

Oh, he did. Yes, he did.

“He and his men were all so kind to me. I never got to thank them.”

Javier wanted to forget he’d ever heard of OPSEC and tell Laura that he was the tall SEAL, that he had carried her out and punched that bastard in the face. He wanted to tell her that no mission had ever meant as much to him as that one, that rescuing her had been the highlight of his career as an operator. God, he wanted to tell her. He knew she wouldn’t run to the press or write an article about it, but he’d been ordered not to discuss the mission with anyone who hadn’t been a part of it.

He fought to keep his voice and his facial expression neutral, choosing his words carefully. “I was amazed to find out that you were alive—and damned grateful.”

Laura’s eyes went wide, and she stared at him.

You gave it away, cabron! She knows. She figured it out.

“You could do it! You could thank them for me, couldn’t you?” She looked at him with such hopefulness. “Naval Special Warfare wouldn’t give me their names, but they’d pass on a message for you, wouldn’t they?”

“Uh . . . You want me to thank them for you?” Okay, this was too fucking surreal. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that.”

You bet he could. He had the surviving members of the team on speed dial.

She gave him a relieved smile. “That would mean a lot to me. Thank you.”

There was something fragile about her now that hadn’t been there in Dubai, a vulnerability that put an ache in his chest. He clamped down on the urge to walk over to her and take her into his arms.

“Hey, no problem.”