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Practice holding hands, hugging, kissing? He could be an expert at any of those things, with her. The only practice he would need is to somehow grow accustomed to touching her. He’d almost reacted when their hands brushed as he took her suitcase. Her touch was unique and stimulating, and he didn’t know what to make of his reaction to it.
They probably should practice so he wouldn’t get distracted and let Beau Alexander be killed by the Star Stabber. Ike realized the job was protecting Beau and catching a killer, but touching Myra … his entire body went into overdrive. He’d never had any kind of job or mission with these kinds of perks. Fake girlfriend status with the most impressive woman he’d ever met. He imagined holding Myra in his arms and kissing her long and slow and thoroughly.
He turned the air conditioning to sixty-four on his side of the vehicle. Then he blinked, swallowed, shook out his left hand, and shut that train of thought down. Hard.
They were headed into a mission, not a romantic retreat. What had happened to all his lofty ideals of being done with romance? He hadn’t made the vow to his father, but he’d failed to protect Sadie just as his father had failed to protect his mom. His dad had foreseen what would happen if Ike fell in love. He’d tried to warn him and only had Ike’s best intentions in mind. Ike should’ve told his dad he was right, but he had died too soon. It was a relief he hadn’t had to hear the regretful, ‘I’m sorry, son. I didn’t want to be right.’
The fact remained his dad had been extreme, but his coaching to stay away from love had been dead on. Ike’s life was no kind of life for romance and love. Unlike Aiden, he remembered his mom. The pain of losing her and losing Sadie was too much. He wasn’t signing up for that ‘rip his heart out and wallow in depression during any spare moment’ kind of pain again.
Myra was staring at him, waiting for his response, her fingers clasped tightly together in her lap.
“Practice?” he managed.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and nodded. He noticed her hands trembled even though she held them so tightly together. “I, um, yes. I think practicing would help both of us.”
“How so?” It would help her? They should definitely practice touching then. He was here to help and support her, after all. He was a soldier. Protecting and helping Myra on this op was a big part of the job. He could do this.
“You aren’t really the … touchy-feely type of guy.”
Ike acknowledged that with a nod. He didn’t initiate touching unless it was his fist connecting with a nose. Or helping someone leave their feet, go heels over head, and land hard on the ground. Or?—
Myra broke in again. “You need to become … accustomed to my touch and act like you touch me every free hour of your day.” She swallowed and looked out the window. “If we’re supposed to be a committed couple.”
Ike’s heart was racing out of control. Had she noticed her touch did … weird things to his skin, his stomach, and his pulse rate? He didn’t know that he could ever become accustomed to her touch. Touch her every free hour of his day? Where did he sign up for that? He rubbed at his jaw.
“Beau will see straight through us if we’re not comfortable with each other.”
Ike didn’t know that he’d ever heard her sound less comfortable. He risked a glance at her. She was usually disarming male ops with her smile. Right now, she was studiously staring at the palm trees and buildings lining the road.
“And we can’t be touching like it’s some kind of obligation.” She still stared out the window, hands clasped. “We have to somehow appear to be … romantic with each other.”
“Romantic?” Had she read his thoughts from earlier? He had no idea how to respond. This conversation was off the spectrum for him. He felt like he’d walked into a medical convention.
“I know romance is probably not in your wheelhouse.”
“Was that a shot?” He tried to tease like she’d teased him earlier. If he didn’t lighten this conversation, he would have to pull over and get out of the vehicle. A quick walk should clear his head.
“Definitely.” She smiled at him then.
He smiled back, but then his smile slid away. Romance wasn’t in his wheelhouse and she’d said he wasn’t her type. The impressive female warrior liked charming, smooth guys. Obviously not like him. The exact opposite of him. He clenched his left hand and bounced it on his leg.
“The good news is that you are off-the-charts tough and radiate a protective allure. Not that I need your protection, but hopefully you’ll intimidate Beau so we have fewer issues with this assignment.”
If anybody could intimidate a cocky and wealthy football star. She might not need protection from Beau, but Ike would need to act very protective and possessive of Myra and probably threaten Beau to keep the man away from her. She was a gorgeous enigma; Beau would be after her, regardless of her relationship status.
He wanted to concentrate on something else she’d said. “Pardon me? What’s a ‘protective allure’?”
She was studying her own hands, folded in her lap. In a fitted shirt and skirt, she looked more than ‘alluring.’
“You know, you come across as the type of guy who would be there for his lady and protect her with his own life. Not that I’m some lady who needs a man.”
He liked her description of ‘protective allure.’ Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lady and wouldn’t in this lifetime. She didn’t need a man?
“You might be one of the few men Beau Alexander would be intimidated by. I don’t think even Beau would dare try to cheat with your girl.”
Ike’s hand stopped bouncing. He wanted to punch something. If Beau dared try to cheat with Myra, Ike would dismantle him. He didn’t care if Beau was the asset they were supposed to be keeping safe.
What was he thinking? Ike shook his head, but it didn’t clear. Myra wasn’t his girl. It wouldn’t be cheating if Beau pursued her. A guy like Beau would look at her as a challenge to conquer. The problem was Myra had to pretend to like Beau in public. That made his skin crawl. He’d make certain Beau believed they were dating seriously and Ike was nobody he should mess with. He would keep her safe from Beau’s wandering hands.
