“Good.” He was going to be distracting enough. Best to have ground rules.
Tables were set up in the middle of the street to serve patrons of the restaurants on a road that was just a few blocks uphill from their hotel. Kira’s eyes lit up as she exclaimed over the transformation of street to restaurant dining area.
Damn but she was beautiful.
Rand cursed himself again for how badly he’d screwed up. She was right about him taking command. For him, this was an op, and he’d been a team commander for years. He knew how to take orders from above, but in action, he consulted with Chris and others, then made the call.
He held out a chair for Kira in the middle of the cobblestone road in front of a small Italian restaurant. She sank into the seat, her smile warm with delight as live music boomed through streets lit with small sparkling lights.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then circled the small table to sit across from her. Loud music and chatter meant he needed to lean across the table to be heard, which he didn’t mind at all.
A waiter took their drink orders, then left them alone. Rand offered her his hand across the table. To his great relief, she took it.
The feel of her palm against his triggered something in his chest. Handholding had never felt like his before. She was perfect. Unharmed. He would make sure she stayed that way.
He ran a thumb over her knuckles. The calloused pad probably felt like sandpaper against her smooth skin. “Can we start over?”
She nodded. Her fingers tightened on his. “I do appreciate the—literal—lengths you’ve gone to be here. For me.”
“I failed you before. I won’t let that happen again.”
She frowned. “You failed me? You took out the gunman on the base. I’d probably be dead if not for you.”
He shook his head, his hand tightening on hers. “No. In December. I saw how he looked at you. I was too focused on trying to get a date with you to listen to my gut. I should have protected you.”
She slipped her hand from his. His palm felt cold without her touch even though the evening was warm. “Rand, no one could have predicted what happened to me. It’s not your fault any more than it was Freya’s or mine.”
“But it’s my job to identify threats. And he not only threatened you in front of me, he took a swing.”
“Which you stopped. He didn’t hurt me. And he made threats all the time that never amounted to anything.” She sighed. “Listen, I know you’re a badass SEA—”
He gave a sharp shake of his head and reached under the table to touch her knee. He hadn’t stopped her from using his rank when they were alone on the street, but now they were surrounded by people. It was noisy, but there were momentary lulls in the music and conversations. They needed to be discreet.
She nodded and said, “Secret author.” She flashed a wry smile at her save, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But your…work isn’t the real world. The threats you see aren’t normal for an art historian like me. If you’d done anything to try to convince me I was in danger that night, I’d have been convinced you were the danger, refusing to take no for an answer when I turned you down. The last thing I need—then, or now—is another man who can’t accept a no. If you’d pushed me, I’d have deleted your number the moment I was inside my building.”
“I hear you, but it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t see a threat right in front of my face.”
“So you traveled nearly five thousand miles because you feel like you owe me some kind of debt?”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Their waiter was approaching with their drinks. “No. I flew five thousand miles to research my next book.” He leaned slightly forward. “Now, isn’t it past time you tell me why you flew five thousand miles? Your very first trip outside the US and you chose Malta?”
Their waiter, a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his twenties, spoke as he placed their drinks on the table. “The beautiful lady has good taste. Why not Malta?”
Rand laughed. “Of course. It’s just not the usual first destination for an American with no genetic ties to Malta.” He met Kira’s gaze. “Your father’s parents were from Germany and your mother from Russia, right?”
She nodded. “I do plan to go to Germany next.”
“Why did you choose Malta, then?” the waiter asked as he held the empty drink tray to his chest, invested now.
“I’m an art historian, and Malta…” She waved an arm to indicate the cobbled street and limestone architecture that was so unique. “It’s an historic work of art.”
“The lady is beautiful, with good taste, and very smart.”
Kira grinned at the young man. “Thank you.” She then proceeded to ask him questions about the menu in Italian, which he answered in the same language.
Rand was reminded of the moment last December when she’d donned a Valkyrie mantle and he’d seen her for the siren she was. He placed his dinner order far less gracefully.
After the waiter left, he asked, “How did you know he speaks Italian?” Sure, the menu was written in both languages, but the man had a Maltese accent and Italian was not an official language.
“I heard him talking to another table.” She nodded to an elderly couple seated behind him a few tables away.
Given the noise and their own intense conversation, she shouldn’t have been able to hear or pay attention to the other table’s chatter. But if there had been a lull in the music, the Italian words might have stood out. Or Kira was better trained in the ways of the Valkyries than she’d let on.
Chapter Sixteen
Rand wanted to take her hand as they descended the hill to their hotel. He had to remind himself they hadn’t been on a date. They weren’t really on vacation together. They were not about to become lovers.
It was far too easy to slip out of reality with her. To think this was the real world. Author and art historian. Not SEAL and Valkyrie.
Both contained truth and lies.
One was just more true than the other.
When they reached the hotel, Rand purchased a bottle of wine from the small bar by the concierge desk, and they went to the upper terrace to enjoy the view of the harbor while they talked.
