Taken aback by her response, Finn paused. “He said he lied,” he growled. And that was not what Finn was concerned about.
Her lips were parted in a way that offered an invitation to a kiss—at least to his way of thinking. Then she smiled a little. Finn frowned at her.
She shrugged. “I thought he’d left through the lounge and was headed outside to his vehicle. I was going to look through a window and would have gotten his license-plate number and then shared it with you. I never expected him to be waiting for me in the lounge. He had to have known you and Anna would come soon for me. I don’t know what kind of a game he was playing.”
“He stuck his hand in your pocket and felt you up.” He couldn’t help still being irritated by Bjornolf’s earlier action.
“He put a bug in there,” she countered, her face reddening slightly.
“You felt his hand on your ass, Meara.” He couldn’t help the frustration he felt at Bjornolf’s luring her toward the lounge and her plan to follow him blindly into the dark recesses.
Would she have had a drink with Bjornolf, if Finn hadn’t arrived as soon as he did? A couple of drinks? Would she have left with him if he had promised to keep her safe?
“Well?” Finn challenged, wanting to know what the hell she’d been thinking. She was just like Hunter had said she was—impulsive and putting herself in danger when it wasn’t warranted.
“He kissed me, too, damn it! So what?” Meara froze after the words spilled from her lips.
Chapter 11
Finn stared at Meara in disbelief, and he instantly wanted to pummel Bjornolf.
“Bjornolf kissing me didn’t mean anything,” Meara said to Finn, her face red, as she slumped on the bench, grabbed a stick, and began poking it in the sand. “Hell, Finn. I wasn’t going to tell you that part.”
“That he kissed you? Why the hell not?” He couldn’t help how angry he felt, partly because she hadn’t planned to tell him what had happened between her and Bjornolf. She’d only blurted the truth because Finn had ticked her off. Was that what Anna had known and had wanted to warn him about?
He still couldn’t believe the bastard had actually kissed Meara. When? No wonder the man had been so damned smug when Finn had seen him in the lounge. First, Bjornolf had felt her up and she didn’t do anything to indicate she didn’t like it, and then she’d let him kiss her?
“I figured you might want to kill him,” she said, her voice soft with regret.
“And you wanted to keep him alive.”
“No!” Her face blossomed with color anew. “I mean, of course I didn’t want you to kill him. I didn’t kiss him back. I was shocked. That’s all.”
“Shocked.” When did a woman like Meara not react to such an intrusion of her space? If she secretly wanted it! Damn it. “When in the hell did he kiss you?”
She poked the stick deeper into the sand. “In the lobby.”
“When?” he asked more gruffly.
“When you were rescuing Anna!”
He unclenched his fists. He should have left her here at the safe house—safe from the likes of someone like Bjornolf. “And then you went to meet him in the lounge. Why? To share a drink? Another kiss? Kiss him back this time?”
“You’re an ass.”
That was the Meara he knew. He smiled a little at that, but then his smile faded. Yeah, he was an ass. If Meara was intrigued with Bjornolf, who was he to say the man wouldn’t be right for her? She was Hunter’s responsibility, and he could have dealt with her falling for a deep-cover operative.
Finn settled on the bench next to her and took a deep breath. They didn’t speak for what seemed like forever. She kept poking the damn stick into the sand, and he kept stewing over Bjornolf’s intentions toward her. Finally he said, “I’m not a romantic, Meara. I don’t believe in giving flowers or chocolate or mushy cards or any of that sentimental stuff.”
She pointed to the chocolate bars and softly said, “Might not be a date, but I haven’t had a nicer outing with a man than I’ve had with you.”
Surprised she’d feel that way, he stared at her for a moment for any indication that she was teasing him, but she seemed sincere.
“I’m talking candy hearts filled with chocolates.” He was talking real dating. And he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t made that way. It all seemed fake, part of some ritual he didn’t believe in. And he wasn’t about to fall into that trap.***
At first, Meara didn’t know where this conversation was going. She assumed he was trying to let her down gently—that he wasn’t the mating type. But she hadn’t meant to say a thing about Bjornolf kissing her until Finn had riled her. She realized afterward what the matter was. He was jealous!
And that had both surprised and tickled her. She already knew he wasn’t the mating type. But she also wanted Finn to know that was okay. That she enjoyed being with him, no matter what the circumstances. And that no matter what macho game Bjornolf was playing with Finn, the operative didn’t mean anything to her.
She tried to keep the conversation less serious, more lighthearted. She’d been truly scared that Finn or Anna might have been injured or worse. And her intention had only been to learn more about Bjornolf so she could help Finn discover who he was, not to see more of the man.
She needed quiet time to enjoy the beauty of the beach and ocean, and to unwind before she collapsed in bed so that she wouldn’t keep replaying what might have happened if Bjornolf had been one of the bad guys.
What she didn’t need was any more discussion about Bjornolf and that stolen kiss.
“Hmm, never thought you’d be the type who would be into flowers and the like. So what are you into?” She envisioned a woman reloading a musket for her man during the American Revolution. Someone who was stout of heart, a real outdoorswoman not bothered by sharing a snake bake on the beach. Someone probably like Anna. “A woman who reloads your weapon without being told to?” Meara asked, when he didn’t respond right away.
Finn didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was considering that scenario. Then his mouth curved up, and the skin beneath his eyes crinkled. “My weapon is always loaded.”
She hesitated to respond, then getting his double entendre, she felt herself blush and she frowned. “Geez, Finn. Do you ever think of anything but that? Here I’m envisioning a woman reloading her husband’s musket during the American Revolution, and you’re… well, you’re incorrigible.”
He laughed, and she was glad to see him lighten up. He didn’t have to be jealous of Bjornolf, but she figured telling him that wouldn’t have any impact on him. He had to see for himself.
“It’s important that I’m always armed. Comes with the job,” Finn said, trying to put on a serious countenance but failing.
She snorted. “Your dates must think you’re loads of fun.”
He stared out at the ocean and appeared serious for the moment, contemplative even. “I’m not the settling-down type.” He motioned to the water. “This is the only life for me. It’s in the genes. My ancestor was a descendant of Leif Erikson, if Hunter didn’t mention it.”
“The Viking explorer?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
Finn glanced at her. “Hunter told us you were strong-willed, and he worried about you. Especially when we were away on missions. He didn’t trust the pack to watch over you like he could.”
“I suppose he said a lot of things about me,” she remarked as she looked out to sea, not liking that Hunter had talked about her to his men behind her back.
“He warned us to stay away from you.”
She looked back at Finn. “What?” She couldn’t believe Hunter would do that. Then again, she could. Not that she had planned on chasing after any of them.
Finn gave her a decidedly boyish grin that was more charming than anything. “The guys were curious about you, since you’re unmated and Hunter’s twin sister, and knowing him the way we do.”
She just stared at Finn in incredulity. Was that why Hunter had never left her alone with any of the guys during the brief times she’d seen them over the years? Because one of them might have shown some interest in her? Was it for her protection or theirs?
Here she’d thought he was worried she’d learn too much about their secret missions!
But she remembered how the men would mill around in the background as Hunter gave her last-minute instructions that she would listen to only if she agreed with them. The men would watch her, not Hunter, as if waiting to see her reaction. She had always figured they were amused to see him giving his sister orders and not just them. Now she wondered if there was more to it. Maybe they wondered if she’d be as much trouble as Hunter no doubt had told them she would be if they thought of her as a prospective mate.
She growled. Hunter had no right to interfere in her life to that degree.
Then she reconsidered Finn’s words: The guys were curious about you, since you’re unmated and Hunter’s twin sister.
The guys. Not just one or two of them. But the guys. And that meant this guy, too—Finn.
She felt her face flush, and she quickly looked back at the ocean. So what did that mean? The guys had been too afraid to check her out? To go behind Hunter’s back? She’d thought they were all too alpha and would have stood up to him if the circumstances warranted. Then again, he’d been their team leader, and they did respect him.
She took a deep breath. SEALs. The fact that they were friends of Hunters and had been his teammates in the Navy had made them off limits, despite the fact she had been intrigued by them. Who wouldn’t have been? Rugged, healthy, muscular, fascinating. And brainy. All were skilled in the operations they had to conduct. All were dedicated to the mission and to each other. Loyalty like that was hard to find. But still, she wouldn’t have shown any real interest and caused trouble between Hunter and his men.