Keeping Gemma Read online

  As I walked across the lot, I searched on my phone, debating which bar I wanted to hit up first. It had been a while since I’d been in L.A., and I wasn’t sure which were the current hot spots. I glanced up from the screen to make sure I was headed in the right direction, and I heard my name called out from across the parking lot. I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Mr. Douche from the Second Row stalking toward me.

  I grinned at his approach. "Come to congratulate me?"

  "Not quite," he sneered.

  I shrugged. "Well, then I gotta say, I'm not all that interested. I have some celebrating to get to."

  "Listen, asshole, I don't know who you are or who you think you are, and I don't care. But I'm Henry fucking O'Keefe and the plane is mine."

  I wanted to laugh at his pompous, puffed up, look-at-me-I'm-a-pretty-rich-boy, routine. I didn't give two shits who he was or who he thought he was. The plane was mine and I had paperwork to show for it. Paperwork, which I held up in front of him. "I gotta say man, it looks like my name’s on here, not yours. Why don't you take it like a man and move on with your life?"

  I sidestepped him and shoved into his shoulder for added emphasis as I made my way over to my truck. I was reaching into my pocket for my keys when a hand grabbed at the back of my collar and pulled me down.

  Before I fully lost my balance, I swung around with a right hook, and connected with the side of Mr. Henry fuckin’ O’Keefe’s face. He grunted at the impact and as he snapped back, a string of expletives flowed from his mouth. He tried to grab at me, but I ducked easily just before he could get his hands on me.

  "Man, I'm telling you, you don't wanna fuck with me."

  Ignoring my warning, he struck out again, this time aiming for my gut. With razor-sharp reflexes, I grabbed his arm, twisted it around behind his back, and held it, with just enough pressure, that one minor tweak would be all it would take to break his arm. I’d been trained well.

  "Back off," I growled, releasing him, and giving him a hard shove in the back to put some distance between us. Rage was radiating from him and I knew the fight was likely far from over.

  He might have cash in the bank, but his head was obviously empty.

  As predicted, he took another wild swing at me. This time I knocked him to the ground. Clearly he needed a more forceful warning.

  Before I could give him a kick to the ribs that would be hard enough to serve as a little reminder for the next two weeks not to fuck with me, I was grabbed and held back by a strong set of arms.

  "Hey, get off me man," I yelled over my shoulder to the newcomer that had entered the fray.

  The hands holding me relaxed and I spun around to find myself face to face with a stranger. “Who the hell are you? His bodyguard?"

  The strangers gaze drifted down to Mr. Douche from the Second Row, his eyes fierce and dark, and then he shook his head. "Nah, man. Not a bodyguard. Just a citizen looking to keep everybody safe."

  "Some kind of fuckin’ Superman then, huh?" I threw back at him.

  He crossed his arms and I couldn't help but notice the tail end of a tattoo on his upper arm, right where his bicep bulged out from underneath his tight T-shirt. "Is that a trident? You a SEAL?"

  The stranger’s eyes went wide, obviously surprised that I'd recognize the bottom half of his tat. He looked over at his own arm and then back to me. "Yeah, you a soldier?"

  I shrugged. "Nope. Pilot. Aaron Rosen. Navy airman. Six years in, two years out."

  The man tipped his head to me. "Name’s Bennett Marshon, Navy SEAL inactive reserves."

  Our introduction was interrupted by the grunted sarcastic remark from the pavement below, "And what a fine example you two are."

  “Dude, shut up. I just fuckin’ saved your ass from gettin’ beat,” Bennett snarled. He reached down and helped Mr. Douche from the Second Row, up from the pavement, and gave him a once over as soon as he was back on his feet. “Although to be straight with ya, you kinda look like the type who deserved it.”

  I grinned but stifled the chuckle that had bubbled up from my gut.

  “Fuck you.” He shifted his glare to me. “As for you, you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

  “For what?” I fired back, not the least bit concerned.

  “Assault and battery!”

  Bennett whistled low under his breath. “Man, you really are a pussy. Get out of here,” he said, jerking his strong jaw over his shoulder.

  Mr. Douche from the Second Row glared for another moment before making a break for it and stalking away. Bennett and I both followed after him and I groaned as he got behind the wheel of a tricked out sports car. “Of course.”

  “Who was that guy?” Bennett asked, shifting his attention back to me, once the asshat had pulled out of his spot and squealed out of the lot, practically laying down rubber in his hurry.

  “Hell if I know. O’Keefe?” Was that what he’d said? “He’s pissed cause I outbid him.”

  Bennett nodded. “What’d ya win?”

  I unfolded the paper in my hands and extended out a glossy photo of my new F-4.

  “Damn. That’s pretty sweet. I can see why he was pissed he lost that one.”

  I grinned. “I’ve had my eye on her for a while.”

  “Well, congrats. Sorry I pulled you off like that. I’m sure you were just handling business, but…”

  “No worries. You probably saved my ass from actually getting tangled up in a lawsuit. As is, he doesn’t have so much as a scratch on him. Although, he might get a nasty bruise on his face,” I said, my knuckles still stinging from where they’d connected with his cheek.

  Bennett waved it off. “Well, man, it was nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, you too man.” I started toward my truck again but turned back to Bennett. “Hey, man, you know any good spots to party around here?”

  Bennett grinned at me, and the gleam in his eyes told me that he was just the man to ask.

  3

  Bennett and I decided to team up on our evening out. We found ourselves holding down the corner booth at a downtown hot spot, watching every girl who walked in, both of us waiting to make a move. As it turned out, Bennett and I had more in common than being ex-Navy men. Bennett’s proclivity for hot women was right on par with my own and led to some pretty bawdy conversation as we assessed the scene and threw back a couple beers together.

  “What about that little number?” Bennett said, drawing my attention to a blonde across the room. She was at the bar, obviously waiting for someone to step in and buy her second drink. She was spilling out of the top—and bottom—of a very short dress.

  She turned to look over her shoulder and I shook my head at Bennett, answering his question. “Not my type.” She was pretty, but in an overly made-up way that usually spelled trouble. Girls like her were the type that never wanted to leave after you’d got off and would hunt you down to key your fuckin’ car when you didn’t call them back the next day.

  “Crazy eyes?” Bennett asked, laughing.

  “Exactly.”

  We toasted and laughed at ourselves. It had been a chance meeting, but we apparently had quite a bit in common. The important things in life—good beer, women in short skirts, and an aversion to psycho, stalker chicks.

  He leaned back against the booth and drank deeply. When he finished, he narrowed his gaze at me. “So, what’s your story man? Why’d you get out of the Navy?”

  “My old man died.” I had no reason to lie but didn’t elaborate for fear of bringing the mood down. If I talked about—or thought about—my old man too much, one drink would turn into ten, and someone would have to call my assistant to come haul my ass outta the bar.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Bennett looked down at the table.

  I waved off his apology. “It was getting close to the end of my active duty, so I decided against re-upping so I could take over the family business.”

  “Gotcha. That’s cool, man. He took another drink. “What’s the biz?”

&n
bsp; “It’s the Rosen Air Museum, up the coast from here, in a little town called Holiday Cove.”

  Bennett didn’t register any recognition. “I’m not from around here.”

  “Ah. Well, it’s about a four-hour drive north, so I doubt you’ll get around to it anytime soon.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, probably not. Sounds cool though. You still fly a lot?”

  “I take up tourists. I also added a couple of flight simulation chambers that people fuckin’ flip for. They get to run missions and feel all badass.” I laughed and shook my head. The simulators were pretty bomb, that was why I’d been willing to part with the chunk of change that it had taken to purchase them, but it was a far cry from the exhilaration of flying an actual mission.

  Of course, it was a lot less risky too.

  But for adrenaline junkies, like myself, that took out some of the fun.

  “What about you?” I asked, tipping my beer in his direction. “Why’d you get out?”

  He shrugged. “I needed a change. I’m still a reserve technically, but I’ve got some other stuff going on these days.”

  I nodded, not sure why he felt the need to offer such a cryptic answer, but I let it go. It made no difference to me. He struck me as the kind of guy who could handle his own shit.

  As Bennett polished off the last of his beer, I turned to scan the room. “Place is pretty crazy tonight, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been in L.A. a few weeks now and I think it’s always like this,” he answered with a laugh. “It’s fun, though.”

  “What’s your type?” I grinned over at him.

  “I’m a sucker for the stacked and smart mouthed ones,” he replied, returning my dark grin.

  “Trouble, in other words.”

  He howled with laughter but didn’t deny my assessment. “You a tits or ass kinda guy?”

  I shrugged. “Depends on the girl.”

  “Fair enough.” He set aside his empty glass. “You want another?”

  I shook my head. I was still working on my first. “Not yet, but go ahead, I’ll hold it down over here.”

  He got up and weaved through the crowd to get to the bar on the other side. I smirked as every woman he passed became magnetized on his ass when he walked by. The guy was built like a fuckin’ machine. He had an inch or two on me, and his shoulders were broader. A little slimmer than some other guys, but I was more cut than most of them. I prided myself on my ripped, chiseled physic and had been putting in some serious hours in my garage, on the bench, to get back to fighting shape after Boomer had hassled me about it during his last visit.

  Bennett returned, leaving a trail of horny women in his wake, and I grinned at him as he slipped back into his seat.

  “I think you just established a fan club out there on the floor,” I teased, jerking my chin in the direction of a trio of women who were all staring at our table. When they caught us watching them, two of the women turned away, trying their best to act nonchalant and detached, but the third, a short, spinner type, licked her lips as her eyes locked on Bennett.

  Bennett chuckled and shrugged it off. He swigged another drink from the bottle in his hand.

  The whole night reminded me of when Boomer had been wild and undomesticated. Granted, it had been years ago, but I could still remember some of our wild nights out on the town, catching the eye of every woman in the room. I was enjoying myself and was pleasantly surprised to have run into Bennett—even if he’d stolen the satisfaction of kicking the shit outta the asshole from the auction—but I couldn’t help but be reminded just how much I missed Jack.

  “Fuck…” Bennett groaned. “Now, that, right there, might be just the ticket.”

  I followed his hungry eyes to a petite redhead who was shaking her plump ass out on the floor. She had some guy trying to grind up on her, and when he tried to get a little too fresh, she reared back and slapped him across the face. Then, went right back to shaking her curvy hips without hardly missing a beat.

  “Damn,” Bennett said, grinning across the room at her. “She reminds me of a girl I knew once.”

  I didn’t ask. I knew what he meant. I’d had a few like that over the years. Most of the time I was more than content to love ‘em, and leave ‘em, but every now and then, one got under my skin and made me come back around for seconds—or thirds. One summer, there’d been a girl, Kimber Westlake, who had captured my interest for an entire two-week period. And, occasionally, she’d still come to mind, usually when I found myself in the middle of a drunken stupor.

  Bennett scooted out of the booth seat on his side of the table. He hesitated for a moment, breaking eye contact with the redhead for a moment, to look down at me. “You coming?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’m gonna finish this,” I replied, holding up my beer. It was only halfway gone, and I hadn’t found anyone interesting enough to make it worth abandoning just yet. “But, hey, man it was nice to meet you.”

  He gave me a salute as he walked backward a few steps. I returned the small gesture and he nodded as he spun on his heel and stalked toward the redhead.

  It didn’t take long before they’d both disappeared into the crowd, and I figured he’d already managed to sweet talk her into leaving with him.

  I finished my beer and flagged down a passing cocktail waitress, a brunette in a short, skin tight, blue dress. “Hey, baby, you wanna take this for me?” I held up my empty glass.

  She approached the table, leaned over—showing off her goodies—and with a smile, asked, “Can I bring you another?”

  I was hovering somewhere between a yes and a no, when the room parted, and my attention snagged on the hottest brunette I’d ever seen in my life. She had an exotic flavor to her, long, dark waves, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She was dancing with a group of girls on the center of the floor, and when she spun, with a shimmy to her hips, her short dress rode up higher and made it hard to breathe for a moment.

  When I came to, the waitress was gone. But I didn’t care. I’d finally decided on what I wanted.

  The brunette.

  On my arm.

  In my car.

  Then in my bed.

  4

  I abandoned the table and crossed the crowded room, my eyes not leaving her sweet ass as she shook her hips and tossed her hair to the beat of the music. Every guy on the floor was circling, trying to get close enough to get up on her. A fact that would only make it that much sweeter when I got her all to myself. She’d be my second win of the day.

  And damn if I didn’t love to win.

  When I was a few paces away, the brunette spun around, still dancing, as her eyes locked onto mine. I smiled in her direction and was met with a slow, sexy smile across her dark red lips.

  She reached out a hand in an attempt to pull me onto the dance floor, but when I took it, I tugged her in my direction instead. “I don’t like to share,” I growled into her ear when I got her close enough.

  “What do you like?” She fired back, still smiling like she had a secret.

  I laughed softly. This was gonna be fun.

  “Why don’t you say goodbye to your friends and I’ll show you,” I said, nodding in the direction of her three girlfriends that had all stopped to watch her as she’d left the floor.

  She tossed her head to look back, her dark hair flying with her. She waved to her friends, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I didn’t correct her, but I knew that in five, maybe ten, minutes, I’d be taking her out the front doors and back to my hotel room.

  “What’s your name?” She asked, smiling up at me.

  “Aaron. You?”

  “Talia.”

  Even her name got me hard.

  “Girl’s night out?”

  She shrugged. “You could say that. What about you? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

  I looked down at myself, unsure what she meant. “I don’t?”

  She laughed and the sound made my dick pulse. “Are you a model?”

  I l
aughed and shook my head. “Not even close. Pilot.”

  Her eyes went wide and I smiled. That had done it. She was mine now.

  “Aaron the pilot. I like that…” she purred. She ran her fingers up my exposed forearm, stopping when she reached the cuffs of my button-down shirt at my elbows. “You a bad boy?” She stared at my tattoo sleeve and traced back down, making circles and swirls with her fingertips along my inked skin.

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that,” I replied, smirking as she cocked her head at my answer.

  “All right,” she finally said. “I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind, bad boy?”

  “I’m only in town for the night. So, that’s all I’m asking for. One night.”

  Her dark eyes danced in the lights above the dance floor and I smiled as her pupils went wide. After a moment of consideration, she licked her lips, dragging the tip of her tongue slowly, a deliberate torture, and then smiled up at me.

  Without another word, she went back to her friends, whispered into their ears, and they all watched her as she sashayed off the floor and took my arm. “One night.”

  I smiled at her stunned friends and headed for the doors.

  When we got outside, the night air had dropped the temperature considerably, and I wished I had a jacket to offer her. Her strapless dress was tight, short, and thin. Perfect for me, but in the chilly night air, I wasn’t sure she was as thrilled about it. As we walked down the sidewalk, I noted her nipples peeking through the fabric and had to stuff down a groan at the way her tits jiggled each time her stiletto clad feet hit the ground.

  “My car is right down there,” I said, pointing to the next block. In my experience, this was the point when the woman started getting a little antsy. Especially if they weren’t tipsy—which Talia didn’t appear to be. They were outside the club or bar, away from their friends, and the quiet walk to the car gave them just enough time for the reality to hit them that they were with a complete stranger, about to go get it on.

  Talia, however, looked completely confident. A smile still clung to her lips, and her fingers continued to trace up and down my arm as she held onto me. She glanced up at me. “Perfect. So, you never told me what brings you to town.”