Call To Honor

Again, wow.

He had tattoos.

A cross riding low on his hip and something tribal circling one bicep.

Who knew tattoos were so sexy?

Harper’s mouth went dry. Her libido, eight years in deep freeze, exploded into lusty flames so hot they scorched away all her spit. She couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. She had to try twice to clear the tight knot of lust in her throat.

Wow, she thought for the third time.

Because some things definitely deserved repeating.

The man was incredible.

Gorgeous. She was pretty sure he was gorgeous. It was hard to tell, though, because her head was spinning.

He looked like some kind of pagan god—the ones who liked to deflower virgins—with that commanding air, impressive body and golden skin stretched over well-toned muscles.

Short black hair that spiked here and there over a face made for appreciative sighs. Sharp cheekbones rose high, accenting full lips. Thick brows arched over deep-set eyes, and he had a scar on his chin that glowed in the moonlight.

She heard herself gulp before she realized she’d done it.

Wondering where her spit had gone, Harper decided that she’d better get the hell out of there. Before he saw her. Before she did something to make sure he saw her.

But just as she turned to go, she spotted Nathan’s baseball sitting on a raised brick flowerbed. It was all she could do not to groan out loud. Her hint of a sigh must have been enough though, because the guy looked her way. Just a glance, not enough to slow the elegant ballet of kicks and punches. But enough to show that he knew she was there. He’d probably known all along.

“You looking for the ball?” His words were lightly accented with a familiar Hispanic lilt. They came low and easy like his smile, which made it all the more irritating that Harper was still too breathless to reply right away.

“Yes, my son lost it.” She eyed the distance between her nice, safe spot next to the fence and the ball. It wasn’t far, but she’d have to skirt awfully close to the man who was now, what? She narrowed her eyes. Was he praying?

Palms together, eyes closed, he lifted his hands high overhead so that long body stretched toward the moon. Shimmering light danced over a puckered scar riding high on his chest, glistened off the sharp-edged tattoo that circled his bicep like barbed wire before he lowered his hands to chest height. Eyes still closed, he took a deep breath. Wondering if he’d do it again, Harper edged a few inches inside the fence line. Before she’d taken a full step, though, his eyes shot open.

“Good yard for working out,” he said with a nod of approval. He moved across the lawn with the same light-footed grace as he’d shown in his martial arts dance. He stopped along the way to grab the ball, then continued until he was a couple of feet from her. There, he simply stood, tossing the ball from hand to hand, staring.

“I should get that to Nathan.” She cleared her throat, tried a smile. It failed but she figured she at least got points for trying. “He’s very attached to it.”

“The kid’s a pistol.” His eyes were much too intense as he watched her face.

Didn’t the man blink?

That’s when she realized what she must look like. She’d tossed an oversize tee claiming Just Say Zen atop her green yoga bra and leggings, so unlike some people, she was decently covered. But her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and she was sure that whatever makeup she hadn’t sweated off during her workout had washed away during that first, or maybe the second, crying jag.

The only way this could be any worse was if she threw herself on his chest and started licking her way down his body. And given her reaction to simply thinking about it, she decided she’d better hurry up and get out of there before she did exactly that.

From the look on his face, he knew it, too.

“Thanks for finding it.” She held up one hand to indicate that he throw her the ball. But while he tossed it in the air, it was only to catch it again. What was he waiting for? She had to remind herself that this was a friendly neighborhood, and people expected actual conversation from time to time.

“I appreciate you taking the time to fix Nathan’s bike,” she said, wishing she could clear the nerves out of her throat. But that would just give him proof that he had her all stirred up, and one thing Harper had learned young was to never give a man that kind of upper hand.

“Fix his bike?” he repeated, as if surprised. “You mean out front today? We were just talking.”

Despite the shimmying tension in her belly and the tightness in her chest, that attempt at innocence in his voice made Harper laugh.

“Mmm, he’s having trouble with the chain. Probably has something to do with jumping his bike when he’s not supposed to.”

“Wouldn’t know about that. Like I said, we just talked for a few minutes. He’s a friendly kid.”

The compliment smoothed out her frayed nerves just a little. Breathing deep for the first time since he’d stepped through the hedges, Harper glanced up at the second floor of her fancy new house. Nathan’s window glowed with friendly cheer.

“He’s comfortable with people,” she said, half to herself. “Easy with them.”

“How about you?” He waited until her eyes met his again, the shadows dancing in wicked angles over his face. “Are you just as at ease and comfortable with strangers?”

She wasn’t even that comfortable with friends. But that wasn’t any of his business.

“I’m not seven years old, so I see people a little differently than Nathan does” was all she said.

“I guess he gets that easiness with people from his dad, huh?” Even as his lips quirked, that dark gaze seemed to intensify. “Me, all I got from my old man is my height.”

His expression was easy, his demeanor mellow. Still, nerves did an edgy cha-cha through her system. Maybe it was the mention of fathers, or just the pointed reminder of Brandon. Whatever it was, Harper didn’t like it.

“It’s a little soon to tell how tall Nathan will be,” she said, her words a chilly sidestep to his question. “Thank you for the help finding the ball. I’ll take it in to him now.”

His eyes not leaving hers, he moved closer.

Close enough that his scent—fresh male with a hint of earthy sweat and clean soap—wrapped around her.

Close enough to touch. All she had to do was reach out to trail her fingers over that hard flesh. Was he warm and slick after that workout? Or had his skin cooled, sweat sticking like a salty blanket? Her body hummed, nerves shimmering so hard her fingers trembled. She reached for the ball.

What was he looking for? What was he seeing? Finally, he placed the ball in her outstretched hand. Then, as if expecting something more, he stood there, waiting.

For what?

No matter how much her jump-started libido wanted otherwise, she wasn’t actually going to lick him.

“Thanks,” she murmured, gripping it tight. It was stupid for her heart to speed up now that she was only a moment from safe, but race it did. Harper gave the no-longer-smiling neighbor a brief nod, then turned to duck back through the vine-covered gate.

“Hey.”

One hand filled with the soft leaves, the other gripping the ball to her chest, Harper stopped to glance over her shoulder.

“Everything okay?”

No. But since she didn’t know why it wasn’t, she lied. “Fine.” Unable to resist, she added, “Why do you ask?”

Clouds cloaked the moon now, dimming its light so his eyes were cast in night shadows. But Harper could still feel the power of his stare.