Trying to deflect the emotion that rose with his reference to a relationship, she said, “A wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am payment?”
“No.”
“Don’t get your UDT shorts into a twist—as if you could.” He tickled her in the side and she almost spilled the mixture. “I’m kidding. I’m not ashamed. I enjoy your body very much, especially in those shorts.”
He ignored the barb and said, “I know you have a brother and a sister who died.” He picked up the bowl of dry ingredients. “I’ll add the dry and you mix it together, but just barely, then we’ll add the chips.”
Shea tensed for a moment and he rested his cheek on her head. She couldn’t talk about Maddy, but he didn’t press. He must have felt her body stiffen, sensing how vulnerable she was feeling right then. He touched her hand, and that gesture caused her throat to tighten. That sweet understanding melting her even more.
“What was your life like growing up?”
She did as he asked and when he reached for the chips he’d already measured out and dumped them in, she stirred them into the batter.
“Navy brat and admiral’s daughter. I think my father had no clue what to do with girls. My mother was an enigma to him as well. I think he would have liked to have all boys. As you know, my brother Jason is a Marine, my sister is…was…a Navy Logistics Officer. I’m the black sheep and he doesn’t understand.”
“Because you’re a videographer? Everyone should be accepted for who they are, Shea.” She turned to face him, his words and character catching her off guard, the huskiness in his response made her want to cry.
He stared at her a moment, then became intent on her mouth as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. “I think a black sheep is badass. She goes her own way,” he said gruffly.
Taking his face between her hands, she stretched up and kissed him softly on the mouth, her breath catching as he pulled her hips closer and took control of the kiss. It was long and lingering and oh, so sweet, and by the time he let her go, her knees were weak, even for a triathlete. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. They remained like that for several moments, simply taking comfort and pleasure from each other. It felt like she was betraying her sister.
“You are an interesting man. I see you out there competing in the most physical competition on the planet. I see the warrior in you. Then you say something like that.” She didn’t want him to have depth or be real and genuine. It would be so much harder to walk away but walk she would.
After the pancakes were done, she made bacon, and they ate in companionable silence. He cleaned up while she folded and packed his clean laundry into his sea bag.
Walking into her bedroom, she opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony. It was a clear night. The beauty of the stars made her breathless from the vast inky sky and pinpricks of light. Those suns and planets were far away, but oh, God, science could be so majestic.
She turned and went back inside. He was already in bed lying on his side, watching her with sleepy eyes. She slipped in next to him and without a word, he took her into his arms. She snuggled into him, his breath warm on her skin. She closed her eyes, the sensation setting off such a wealth of tenderness inside her, and the urge to cry was back.
Giving into tenderness felt like another betrayal to her sister and the mission she had to accomplish. The man who killed her had to pay with his own life. Her heart could only hold bitterness and revenge or this…this beautiful feeling that she’d never thought she would have room for. Pushing it out felt like another betrayal—this time to him.
But her sister had been her flesh and blood. Hemingway was something different…something bright and shining, and she hated that his light was illuminating all that darkness. She found his mouth as his hand slid up the back of her head, and he deepened the kiss, molding her against him with the weight of his body.
She thought of those stars out there wheeling around, and it was as if they were suffering a kind of weird fate in the cosmos, and they each had their own orbits, like the sun and moon crossing each other’s path, coming together…
But ultimately…apart.
9
Mad Max rubbed the back of his neck as the tailor, a short, bespectacled man with a mop of salt and pepper curls moved around Max, hemming the pants and pinning the waistband. They’d moved into the second week of First Phase with one hundred and five trainees left. Monday saw sixteen men ringing out—six medical and the rest DORs. Max was tired and cranky—not the best time for him to have to stand around while some guy stuck sharp objects at him. As soon as he’d gotten off instructor/proctor duty, he’d headed over to the tailor shop.
This wedding was going to send him off the deep end. If it wasn’t a fitting in this monkey suit, there was crisis about the cake, flowers, whether the was groom getting cold feet, was his sister going to turn into the premier bridezilla…endless details he was glad his sisters wanted to take on. They lost a groomsman to appendicitis, and now there was a family meeting about it. All his sisters were there. Gina, the ringleader; Wendy, the gossip; Rhonda, the princess; Sarah, the entertainer; and Anna, the adventurer. There was a scramble to find another guy so that Rhonda’s wedding party would be an even number.
“Max, can’t you come up with someone?” Gina asked.
“Yeah, you have access to all those guys. Surely, you can come up with a warm body,” Wendy said.
“Why not Dodger? I’ve heard so much about him,” Anna said. “Hot, hunky and with a dreamy British accent.”
Max’s eyes flew right to Gina, and she shrugged with an innocent “what” look.
“Well you’ve been on assignment as much as Max has been deployed,” Sarah said.
“Hey, don’t pick on Anna because she followed her dream. You’re still a waitress instead of the actress you always wanted to be,” Rhonda said, always the blunt one without an ounce of punch pulling. She and Anna had always been tight no matter what.
“Same with Max,” Gina said firmly. “He’s following his dream.”
It disassembled from there. Gina yelling at Rhonda, Sarah bursting into tears, Wendy defending Rhonda, and Anna trying to get some kind of order. Not in the Keegan chaos of females.
“Hey!” he yelled in his Navy SEAL, move-your-ass voice. Everyone stopped talking. The tailor never said a word as he simply got up and quickly shuffled out of the room.
“Oh my God, you scared the tailor,” Gina groaned.
Max pinched his forehead, massaging his temples. The way Anna described Dodger, Max didn’t want her anywhere near him. He went to open his mouth.
“Dodger is an excellent choice,” Gina chimed in. “He did come up with the lace Rhonda wanted for her gown and found the topper for the cake.”
“What topper? When were you in touch with Dodger?” Max frowned.
“Last week. He’s a whiz at getting stuff that seems to be unobtainable.”
“He’s wonderful,” Rhonda said with a smile. “I’m so grateful.”
Max stepped off the raised dais and crouched in front of Gina. “He’s my teammate and a pain in my ass. When did you get his number?”