Enlisted by Love (17 page)

Ouch.

“I thought you were on my side.” He dropped his head into his hands again. Could he be more pathetic?

Tess leaned across the table and patted his shoulder in a pitying way. That was enough for him to get a grip. He might be pathetic but he didn't need to
act
like it. It was just so frustrating. He was not a man who bore frustration well.

“What do I do?” he asked her, squaring his shoulders. He was a man, a warrior. There was no task too difficult he could not do it, no goal too distant that he could not achieve it.

She grinned at him. It was very demoralizing. He could see the twinkle in her eyes. “You have come to the right place.”

“The coffee shop?” he asked disagreeably.

“And you wonder why Greta finds you so irritating,” she remarked, but she gave him another grin. Sure.
Tess
liked him fine. “Look,” she said. “Greta had a really bad marriage a couple of years ago — ”

“Yes, but — ”

“Don't interrupt.” She wasn't career military but she'd certainly developed the art of giving commands just fine. He didn't interrupt, just picked up his coffee and gave her his full attention. “This is her story to tell and if you make me think too hard about telling it, I won't,” she warned him. She gave him a look, and he opened his mouth to protest, then realized she was testing him and clamped his lips. When she was assured he understood the rules, which he demonstrated by remaining quiet for a full thirty seconds, she continued. “Greta worked really hard to get through school. She always had her eye on the goal, you know? Nothing was going to stop her from getting ahead. But in her last year of college, she met a man and fell really hard for him.” Tess paused.

Though Ian was dying for details —
she met a man and fell really hard for him
didn't say anything he needed to know and couldn't have figured out for himself — he didn't push. He didn't even speak.

Satisfied that he was keeping his end of the bargain, Tess went on. “The man she married was an Army officer.”

Things were suddenly getting much clearer.

“And he was abusive to her,” Tess said, her eyes catching his, gazing intently at him, judging his reaction. “Not just calling her nasty names, you know?”

Ian's stomach churned. He shoved his coffee cup aside, even knowing it wasn't the cause of the sour taste in his mouth. How could any man hurt Greta? She was bright and intelligent and lovely and sparky. She might be argumentative and positive she was right, even when she wasn't, but that didn't mean you could hit her just to get her to stop.

“Jeez,” he said, completely inadequate. “You know I'd never — ”

“This isn't about you,” Tess pointed out, and he nodded and reminded himself to shut up before she changed her mind about talking to him about this. “She couldn't get anyone on base to help her.”

Now anger bit. Dammit, there were programs. There were things that were supposed to be done, avenues women were supposed to be able to take, people to help out. But he knew the military didn't always operate the way it was supposed to.

With an effort he unclenched his fists. Anger didn't help. Wanting to punch someone — yeah, he noted that irony — didn't help.

“And?” he said.

“Eventually she got away,” Tess said. Of course it hadn't been as simple as that. He understood, though, that Tess didn't think it was her story to tell, and he respected the reasons why she was unwilling to go into details. Someday, when Greta trusted him more, she could tell him. But only what she was willing to share. Maybe that wouldn't be very many details, either. But he didn't need details. He just needed to figure out how to get to the point where she'd trust him.

“So that's why she doesn't trust men?” Ian asked. That was understandable. “And she especially doesn't trust Army men?” That was unfortunate, because even though he was retired, undoubtedly she thought of him that way. He remembered his first meeting with her, during one of his last days in uniform. First impressions were very powerful. He could wear jeans or khaki dress pants for the rest of his life and that first impression would still exist.

“That's why I told you to let her initiate the — err — ”

“The kissing,” Ian said. All right. He rubbed his palms on his pants. There was an explanation for Greta's behavior. Nothing he could do about the past. He could accept that truth. But he was a man of action and he wanted to know what to do now.

“Yes.”

“I
did
let her initiate the — err. Then she invited me to join in. I mean, she didn't actually say anything like ‘please kiss me back,' but, you know, she meant it. So I did. Umm. Kiss her back, I mean.” Jeez. This was harder than talking about his emotions. He rubbed a hand over his face and took another slug of coffee. “Then she ran away. I can't see where I did anything wrong.”

“You didn't,” Tess said, a worried expression on her face. “I mean, what you're describing sounds perfectly natural. I don't know what went wrong.”

“What?” he demanded. “I thought you said I'd come to the right place. Answers, Tess! I need answers.”

She took a distracted sip of coffee. “She invited you to join in? You're sure?”

“Sure I'm sure,” he shot back. “I didn't misunderstand a thing like that.”

“Okay.” The worried expression on her face did not leave. That was not reassuring. He had a sudden image of Greta's face last night after she'd kissed him: serious, even a little scared. What had happened to all the cheerful brunettes he used to hang out with? He'd never had to worry about them. “Then what?” she asked.

“Then what?”

“What happened after you kissed her back? Specifically? I mean, if she just said, ‘Good night,' that's one thing but if she called a security guard to escort her to her car, that's another.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Or are you saying you kissed her back when you really mean something else?”

“I'm a gentleman,” he said, outraged at her insinuation. He knew she was protective of everyone she cared about, but she didn't really think he'd lie about a thing like that, did she?

“Okay,” she said, sounding skeptical as she swallowed the last of her coffee. She glanced up at the clock above the door. “I've got to go in a minute. Tell me what
happened
.”

He sighed. “She took a step back, pushed me away, and said, ‘That wasn't fun.'”

“She said it wasn't
fun
?” Tess asked, clearly puzzled. “Greta hasn't ever insisted that anything be fun.”

Ian shifted in his chair, which had suddenly grown even more uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Uh. See, we agreed that we were both just going to have fun. Nothing serious, you know?”

“You agreed to have fun?” She sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at him. “Ian, how can I help you if you don't tell me the whole story?”

“I
am
telling you the whole story.”

“Not very coherently.”

“If I were in full possession of my faculties, would I be sitting here discussing my love life with you?”

“That's a good point,” she said. She sighed and turned her attention to a man on the sidewalk just outside the window, walking a Jack Russell terrier on a leash. The sudden smile on Tess's face was for the dog. Michael wasn't ever going to have to worry about Tess finding other men attractive. He was, however, going to have to deal with her dog fixation for the rest of his life, which made Ian feel somewhat better about his own situation. After the dog and his owner turned the corner, Tess returned her attention to Ian and said, “So you agreed that you were both in it for fun and then you kissed her.”

He didn't like the way she said that. “Look,” he protested. “There was nothing wrong with the kiss. The kiss was fine. It was just fine.” At her skeptical glance, he said. “It was better than fine! It was terrific. Will you stop criticizing the kiss? I know how to kiss a woman.” He knew that wasn't quite fair because Tess wasn't exactly criticizing his kissing skills, but it certainly felt like it. He took a deep breath. This had not been one of his smarter ideas.

“If you're so smooth, tell me again, why is Greta avoiding you?” Tess asked impudently.

He cracked. “If you want to know why the Chiefs went for the two point conversion in the first half against the Raiders last week, I can give you a couple of perfectly good explanations. But no man can say why a woman does anything.”

Tess snorted inelegantly. “And it is with this attitude you want to persuade Greta to have more fun with you?”

“I don't want to have fun with Greta,” he said, in what was almost a shout. He controlled himself. If Greta didn't think kissing qualified as fun, then he didn't want fun, he wanted — well, what did he want? That was exactly the question Tess posed next:

“Then what do you want?”

He didn't know how to answer it. What he wanted was to kiss Greta and not make her run away. Oh, boy. He was in trouble.

A vision of her standing at his side, welcoming guests to a party he was hosting, wearing that blue dress he liked so well, the one she'd worn to Tess's wedding, the one she'd made out of fabric he'd brought home from India. He tried to think if he'd ever had a favorite dress before.

Oh, boy. He was in deep, deep trouble.

Surely there was a cheerful brunette in this town somewhere, one who wouldn't have to have the concept of fun explained to her, who actually thought kissing was fun —

An image of Greta, hands on hips, glaring at him, calling him insufferable at Michael's wedding. Another image of her, the wind pulling tendrils of hair loose from the pile on her head, daintily eating a hot dog and getting sticky fingers, pulling his hat over his eyes, smiling up at him —

Greta giving him a hug when she got home from work. Now he'd entered the realm of fantasy. He'd be outside grilling steaks. She'd make the salad or whatever kind of food she'd insist on making in order to maintain a healthy diet. Or maybe she'd grill the steaks while he set the table and poured the root beer. Nothing wrong with a fair division of labor. Now he just had to get her to agree with the program —

He shook his head sharply to clear it. Tess was giving him a sympathetic look. Maybe he didn't need Tess. Maybe he could figure out how he could get Greta to pick up the phone when he called without Tess's help. Maybe he should just go over to her house. Bring flowers, ring the doorbell, hope she wasn't packing heat. Throw rocks at her bedroom window. Well, she'd probably call the cops and he'd have to explain himself.

“I want to be with her,” he said.

“Not just for fun,” Tess said.

“Nope.” He swallowed more coffee. “Not just for fun.”

Tess considered him for a moment. “Her usual workout time is nine
A.M.
”

• • •

It was nine
A.M.
Ian was at the gym, on the treadmill, hoping Greta would show up, feeling sort of like he was in high school again. Surely there were easier women to get to know. He glanced around. The gym was full of women. One of them would probably be susceptible to him. The world was large, and full of potential.

What if she didn't show up? Or what if she left the minute she saw him?
Focus on the treadmill
, he told himself, increasing the speed until he was sweating as hard as he was breathing. Good. For a few minutes, all he could think about was not falling off the treadmill. Good. Perfect. Okay, a little too fast. Nothing wrong with going a little slower. Besides, he'd gotten his warm-up in. Time to lift some weights. The guys lifting in the weight room would talk about football. They could argue over the Chiefs' two point conversion attempt.

He slowed the treadmill, climbed off, wiped it down, then slung his towel across his neck and went to get a drink of water. The front door to the club opened and in came a passel of kids, probably from the university, and then … Greta. He had just successfully managed to put her out of his mind for a full two minutes. Of course she would show up now.

He straightened. She caught sight of him, her eyes going wide. Then her mouth set in a grim line and she looked away from him. She signed in at the desk, showed her membership card, then walked over to the bank of treadmills, giving him a wide berth.

“Hi, Greta,” he said, catching up with her, feeling ridiculously happy to see her, even if she was frowning at him.

“Hello, Mr. Blake,” she said in freezing tones. He should have known they'd end up back at “Mr. Blake.” Like that could prevent the sparky thing between them from taking root and becoming something real. He couldn't help the way the smile deepened on his face. She was adorable. Although he knew it was more than his life was worth to say a thing like that to her. But she was.

He watched her stiff back for a moment as she climbed onto one of the treadmills, then caught himself. She and the stairclimbing woman would probably call the manager over and have him thrown out if he stayed here staring at Greta.

Fine. He just needed to stick with his original plan. He walked to the weight room and talked to a personal trainer he knew for a minute as he stretched before starting to lift. Then the trainer's client came in and Ian contented himself with finding a comfortable bench and starting on some biceps curls.

A few minutes later, warmed up and gleaming slightly from the exertion, Greta came into the room. She studiously ignored him. He grinned again. There were only three other people in the room, so it wasn't like she just hadn't seen him in the crowd.

She went to the leg press, moved the pin, adjusted the seat. Taking his time putting the weights back on the rack, he covertly watched her actions. Obviously she'd done this often enough not to need anyone's help with the equipment, so there went his idea of striking up a conversation with her by offering to give her a hand. He considered his options. Well, maybe he could offer to help her anyway and if that didn't work, ask her to help him. Then he could subtly move the conversation onto the subject of when their next date should be. He could be smooth. He knew it.