Page 75 of Tate
Tate.
He tasted of coffee, probably from his flight, and smelled of aftershave, the fresh scent of cotton, and the deep husk of leather. And when he nudged her mouth open, when he let her have the finest taste of him, she found the world dropping away until it was simply her and Tate. Alone under the spray of moonlight.
Safe.
He made a tiny sound from deep inside and almost with violence pulled himself away from her, breathing hard. Stepped back, his hand up. “Okay, okay. I… Sorry. I—” He wore a stricken look and swallowed, and the expression made her pause, too, her throat thick.
“What—?”
“Your mother is going to kill me.”
“Why, because you had a deal?”
She didn’t know where the anger came from, but when he nodded, she wanted to advance on him, push him. “What kind of deal? The kind to drive me crazy? To make me insane with worry? To break both our hearts?”
“The kind to keep you safe!” He took a breath, schooled his voice. “I promised not to…well, do this. Right here. To do what every instinct has been shouting at me to do since Vegas.” He stared at her, apparently okay with her seeing all his emotions—frustration, helplessness, anger, and desire. Oh, the desire. It dried her mouth. But when she took a step toward him, he kept his hand up.
“Just give me a sec, here, Glo. I have to think.”
“Think?”
He lowered his hand and gave her a look. “If I do what apparently we both want right now, it involves more than just standing in the moonlight kissing you. Something along the lines of finding a car and driving us both far, far away. Away from the clutter and complications of your life, and yeah, I’m not exactly sure of the destination, but it would be with me. In my arms. Not Slick’s.”
Oh, Sloan.
She grinned at his name for him.
“What’s so funny?—?”
“It’s just…nothing. I like that idea very much.”
He drew in a breath, his eyes widening. “You do?”
“Yeah. Save me, Tate. I…” She looked down at her gown. “I’m not sure who I am right now.”
He groaned and closed the gap between them, his hand on her face. “You’re Glo Jackson. Singer, musician, rummy shark, late-night thumb battler, and the woman I would die for.”
“You’re such a superhero, Captain America.” Her arms went around his neck as she pulled herself against him, moving his head down to capture his mouth. Tate. She could write a new song right here, right now, about love gone right and lost dreams showing up in the night, and maybe something about never giving up the fight and?—
A snap sounded behind her, in the bushes that lined the pool.
Tate looked up, his entire body on alert.
“Someone’s out there,” he said. He shoved her behind him. “Hello?” Then he turned to her. “Who’s on your detail tonight?”
“Rags. But I sent him away.”
Tate’s mouth tightened in a grim line. He grabbed her hand and took her into the house. “Turn the lights off and stay down, behind the island.”
What—no!She caught his hand. “You’re not going out there.”
He gave her a look. “Yes, I am. But I’ll be back, I promise.” He kissed her hard.
And then she watched the man she loved step out of her life into the darkness.
He’d let down his guard for a blinding, delirious second?—
So much for coming home with the news that Glo was safe.
