him wish he was in combat gear.
“I hadn’t, either. That’s one of those things that usually comes up in conversation. Which is another thing we never had.”
Blake shifted to block her exit again.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Away.”
Blake had swum through the Arctic Ocean once and swore it’d been warmer than her tone. Brows arched, he gestured to the open French doors.
“Why not go this way, then?” he suggested. “We can talk.”
“No.” Lips pressed so tight together they were white at the edges, she took a long, deep breath through her nose, then exhaled slowly. “No, thank you. I’d rather not go out on the patio. I’d rather not talk. I prefer to go home.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I prefer to go alone.”
Before Blake could counter that, they were interrupted.
“Lieutenant,” the admiral greeted with the biggest smile Blake had ever seen on his face. The empty champagne flute in his hand might factor in, but retirement probably didn’t hurt.
“Sir.” Blake shifted aside just a little so the older man could talk to his daughter. But instead of words, Pierce’s smile dimmed and all he offered his daughter was a nod.
Then, proving that a dozen or so toasts hadn’t affected his perception, his gaze shifted back and forth between them. “The two of you have met already?”
Blake waited for Alexia to answer.
“We said hello on the beach last week,” she finally told her father.
“And?”
“And, nothing.” Her words were as flat as her expression. Blake didn’t get it. Alexia was unquestionably the brightest woman he’d ever met. Not just smart, although he was pretty sure she topped that chart, too. But bright in energy, in color. With her vivid red curls, her expressive face and her enthusiasm, she shone like neon.
Until now.
The color was still there. Her hair as red, her eyes as brown. Her smile, painted a vivid rusty rose, didn’t alter. But she looked as if someone had flipped a switch and shut her down. Turned her off.
The last thing a woman like Alexia was meant to be was off.
Even pissed at him, she’d still shot off a few sparks. Like a woman with a fabulous temper who’d learned to control it. But now? Blake’s gaze cut from her to the admiral, then back. What the hell was going on?
“I told you to plan on staying for at least an hour after the address to perform some specific social duties I required,” the admiral informed his daughter, his gaze shifting from her face to her purse, clutched in white fingers, and then to the door.
“And I told you that I was here to celebrate your retirement, as mother requested. But that I’d have to leave as soon as the address was finished.”
Blake was starting to get the impression that this wasn’t a loving father-daughter relationship.
“I gave you an order, young lady. I expect it to be obeyed.” The admiral gestured to Blake. “Luckily, the two of you have already broken the ice. Lieutenant Landon is one of my protégés. I’d like you to spend some time getting to know each other.”
And there it was—Blake sighed—the last nail in his coffin.
He stepped forward, surreptitiously putting himself between father and daughter. Before he could defuse the situation, Alexia gave a chilly smile and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. We’ve spent enough time getting to know each other already and discovered we’re completely incompatible. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”
Her icy smile skated over both of them before she turned heel and walked out.
Just walked right out the door.
It was a toss-up who was more shocked.
Blake, or her father.
Looked as if he didn’t have quite as much charm as he’d thought.
“Excuse me,” the admiral said stiffly before following her. Blake deemed it wise to stay where he was. Neither would welcome his presence at this point.
But he wasn’t willing to let it go, let her go. Blake looked around.
There.
He made his way across the room to a small
“I hadn’t, either. That’s one of those things that usually comes up in conversation. Which is another thing we never had.”
Blake shifted to block her exit again.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Away.”
Blake had swum through the Arctic Ocean once and swore it’d been warmer than her tone. Brows arched, he gestured to the open French doors.
“Why not go this way, then?” he suggested. “We can talk.”
“No.” Lips pressed so tight together they were white at the edges, she took a long, deep breath through her nose, then exhaled slowly. “No, thank you. I’d rather not go out on the patio. I’d rather not talk. I prefer to go home.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I prefer to go alone.”
Before Blake could counter that, they were interrupted.
“Lieutenant,” the admiral greeted with the biggest smile Blake had ever seen on his face. The empty champagne flute in his hand might factor in, but retirement probably didn’t hurt.
“Sir.” Blake shifted aside just a little so the older man could talk to his daughter. But instead of words, Pierce’s smile dimmed and all he offered his daughter was a nod.
Then, proving that a dozen or so toasts hadn’t affected his perception, his gaze shifted back and forth between them. “The two of you have met already?”
Blake waited for Alexia to answer.
“We said hello on the beach last week,” she finally told her father.
“And?”
“And, nothing.” Her words were as flat as her expression. Blake didn’t get it. Alexia was unquestionably the brightest woman he’d ever met. Not just smart, although he was pretty sure she topped that chart, too. But bright in energy, in color. With her vivid red curls, her expressive face and her enthusiasm, she shone like neon.
Until now.
The color was still there. Her hair as red, her eyes as brown. Her smile, painted a vivid rusty rose, didn’t alter. But she looked as if someone had flipped a switch and shut her down. Turned her off.
The last thing a woman like Alexia was meant to be was off.
Even pissed at him, she’d still shot off a few sparks. Like a woman with a fabulous temper who’d learned to control it. But now? Blake’s gaze cut from her to the admiral, then back. What the hell was going on?
“I told you to plan on staying for at least an hour after the address to perform some specific social duties I required,” the admiral informed his daughter, his gaze shifting from her face to her purse, clutched in white fingers, and then to the door.
“And I told you that I was here to celebrate your retirement, as mother requested. But that I’d have to leave as soon as the address was finished.”
Blake was starting to get the impression that this wasn’t a loving father-daughter relationship.
“I gave you an order, young lady. I expect it to be obeyed.” The admiral gestured to Blake. “Luckily, the two of you have already broken the ice. Lieutenant Landon is one of my protégés. I’d like you to spend some time getting to know each other.”
And there it was—Blake sighed—the last nail in his coffin.
He stepped forward, surreptitiously putting himself between father and daughter. Before he could defuse the situation, Alexia gave a chilly smile and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. We’ve spent enough time getting to know each other already and discovered we’re completely incompatible. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”
Her icy smile skated over both of them before she turned heel and walked out.
Just walked right out the door.
It was a toss-up who was more shocked.
Blake, or her father.
Looked as if he didn’t have quite as much charm as he’d thought.
“Excuse me,” the admiral said stiffly before following her. Blake deemed it wise to stay where he was. Neither would welcome his presence at this point.
But he wasn’t willing to let it go, let her go. Blake looked around.
There.
He made his way across the room to a small
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