Heat of the Moment (7 page)

“If anyone were to find out, they could report us. We could both be kicked out of the service for this. For myself, I could handle it, but you’d be throwing away your entire career.”

Holly gave him a tolerant look. “Nobody even knows you’re out here except Mitch, and I don’t think he’s about to call the Navy investigators and report us. Besides, we’re on leave. But nobody is going to find out, Shane.”

Still, he hesitated. “How long do we have?”

“Two weeks, more likely three.” She paused. “I don’t go before the medical board for another three weeks.”

Shane grunted. “My cast comes off in three more weeks and then I return to Camp Lejeune. They’ll put me on light duty for another couple of weeks but then it’ll be business as usual.”

For the first time since he’d enlisted, Shane found himself less than enthusiastic about the prospect of returning to active duty. But then, he’d never had a reason to stay home. The Marines were his family and his home, where he belonged. So why did the thought of returning to his unit suddenly hold no appeal to him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to explore the reasons why.

In three weeks, they would both return to active duty and any intimate relationship they had would end. Holly was an officer and he wouldn’t let her risk her career, although a part of him suspected that after three weeks, she’d be more than ready to say good-bye to him. It wouldn’t take her that long to realize he wasn’t the man she believed him to be.

Holly gave a soft laugh. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? You with your leg and me with my arm. But I’ve heard that sex releases endorphins and endorphins aid in the healing process. So what we’re doing will actually enable you to return to duty more quickly.”

Shane didn’t miss how she said you, not us. As in, she had no intention of returning to active duty? He wanted to press her further, but now wasn’t the time. He arched an eyebrow at her. “So we’re doing this for God and country, is that it?”

“Exactly.” Dipping her head, Holly traced her tongue over one flat nipple, lapping at the small bud and causing goose bumps of sensation to chase themselves down his spine. “Consider this your patriotic duty.”

With a soft groan of surrender, Shane speared his hands through Holly’s short hair, cupping her scalp and angling her head for a deep kiss. She gave a soft purr of approval and slid her tongue along his, even as she skated her hand downward, over his stomach and lower to where he strained beneath her touch.

Before she could torment him further, Shane rolled her beneath him and raised his head just long enough to search her eyes. They were hazy with pleasure.

“Three weeks,” he said, his voice rough with growing passion. “No matter what happens, this ends in three weeks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she murmured against his mouth. “But for the next three weeks, soldier, you’re all mine.”

She arched her hips against him in invitation, and before his brain completely shut down, Shane silently vowed that in three weeks, he would walk away. He’d agreed to stay because he was a selfish bastard. But he’d leave because regardless of how he felt, it would be the right thing to do.

After a hot shower, she slipped into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top and combed her fingers through her short hair, smoothing it into place. Studying her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she thought she could detect subtle differences in her appearance. Her eyes seemed darker, filled with secret memories of their night together. Her lips were fuller, gently bruised from the force of Shane’s kisses. Her skin was alabaster pale except for her cheeks, which were stained a faint pink. A tiny red mark stood out vividly at the base of her throat, just above her collarbone, where he’d sucked on her flesh. She put her fingers to it.

Shane’s mark. On her skin.

She’d dreamed of possessing him for so long; of having his mouth and hands on her body, of joining herself with him. But now she knew it wasn’t enough. Sex with Shane Rafferty was amazing. He drew responses from her that she hadn’t known she was capable of giving, but she wanted more.

She wanted the man’s heart.

A distant ringing distracted her and returning to the bedroom, she dug through her pocketbook until she found her cell phone. Seeing her parents’ phone number on the display, she sighed and flipped it open.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her father’s deep voice filled her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“But you couldn’t tell us to our faces that you were going to the lake house,” he said. As always, his voice was calm and controlled. His tone lacked any accusation; he was merely stating fact. Holly had never seen her dad lose his composure, not even when he’d come to see her in the hospital right after the attack. It was just one of the traits that made him a great military officer.

“I didn’t think you and Mom would understand,” she hedged. “I just need to be alone right now. I have some things I need to work through and Mom is always hovering. I appreciate that she just wants to help, but—”

“But she’s driving you crazy. I understand.”

“You do?”

“Did I ever tell you about the injury I received in Vietnam?”

Holly had heard the story, but not from her father. He never discussed that particular war and she sensed that the memories were too painful for him to even recall, never mind talk about.

“Mum told me what happened,” she said quietly, “but you’ve never mentioned it.”

“I was a young lieutenant, fresh out of officer candidate school, and we were losing young men over there faster than we could count. My father was a Marine colonel and he could have pulled some strings to keep me stateside during the war, but that’s not the way the Durants operate.”

Holly had heard this spiel before. The Durants never shirked their duty. They did what they needed to do, regardless of the risk or the cost.

“So you went over to Vietnam.”

“That’s right. I was in charge of a patrol boat that crisscrossed the Mekong Delta region. We’d been making our way upriver toward a village where Viet Cong snipers had taken out an entire company of our men just ten days earlier. We came under attack just outside of the village and we began losing men fast. I took my best sharpshooters and circled around to where we thought the snipers were hidden, and we found them.” He paused. “They were just kids, Holly. Little more than babies.”

“Dad…”

“I couldn’t shoot, not even when one of those boys drew down on me. I couldn’t do it.”

Holly’s chest constricted in sympathy for what her father had gone through. “So you were shot, instead.”

“I was. They medivaced me back to the States and I spent eight weeks at Walter Reed hospital recovering from that injury.”

Holly recalled the mass of twisted scar tissue on one side of his stomach. “But you survived.”

“I did. But even after the wound healed, I wasn’t fit to return to duty. Not right away.”

“What did you do?”

“I went home. I thought that was where I should be, but my mother—your grandmother—almost drove me nuts. She fussed over me incessantly until finally, I had no choice but to leave.”

“Where did you go?”

He chuckled. “Where else? To the lake house. Of course, in those days it wasn’t much more than a two-room cottage with no electricity and no running water. But I needed to get away. I knew I wouldn’t be good for much until I’d gotten my head around what had happened that day. And I couldn’t return to duty until I could be certain that it would never happen again.”

Holly knew he referred to his own inability to shoot the sniper. “But you did go back.”

“Eventually. I couldn’t let my boys down. They needed me.” He was quiet for a moment. “Your troops need you, too, Holly. But not before you’re ready. So you take whatever time you need. Get your head in the right place. You owe your troops that much, and you owe that to yourself.”

Holly felt her throat tighten.

She wouldn’t tell him about the news she had received from her doctor; that there was a good chance she’d never go back. That the military career he’d been so proud of might be over.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“There’s something special about the lake,” he continued, his voice a little gruff with emotion. “Something peaceful and elemental. It brings out the best in people, I think.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“You, too. And Holly?”

“Yes?”

“It would mean a lot to me if you would come home next weekend, just for a day or so. I know your mother can be a bit much sometimes, but she has something special planned for you and I’d hate to see her disappointed.”

Holly smiled. “I’ll be there.”

“Remember, I’m here if you need me.”

Holly hung up, feeling emotionally wrung out and vulnerable after the call. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think about the day of the attack. When she did, she only remembered how she’d felt about Shane when she’d thought she’d lost him. During her time at the hospital, a shrink had come to her room to evaluate her and determine if she required treatment for post traumatic stress.

Had she been afraid? Yes, she’d been terrified for Shane’s safety. Did she find herself preoccupied with the events of that day? Yes, she found herself replaying those terrifying seconds when Shane had sprinted through the kill zone toward her. Did she have trouble sleeping? Yes, she had recurring nightmares that Shane hadn’t survived.

In the end, they’d declared her mentally sound and had prescribed a mild sedative for those nights when she did have trouble sleeping. But if she allowed herself to go back and recall the incident in detail, how did she really feel?

She recalled the sheer terror she’d experienced when the lead Humvees had exploded into the air, and the realization that if she and Sgt. Martinez didn’t leave their truck, they might become the next target. But then her training had kicked in and she’d been so preoccupied with following protocol that there hadn’t been time to feel anything. She scarcely recalled the instant when the bullet had struck her, or when the compression blast had knocked her off her feet. All she remembered was seeing Shane, bloodied and deathly still.

Shaking off the disturbing images, she picked up her camera bag and made her way down to the kitchen. Beside the coffeepot was a note, scrawled in Shane’s bold handwriting.

“Down at the boathouse. Didn’t want to wake you.”

At least he hadn’t left, she mused, pouring herself a mug of strong, black coffee and stepping outside onto the deck. The air was crisp with the scent of pine and rich, moist earth. The lake was clear and still, and she could barely hear the distant thrum of boat motors and jet-skis. The Durant family owned nearly fifty acres of land on the pristine lake, and there wasn’t another cabin or house for at least a half mile in either direction, affording the family retreat complete privacy.

Holly stood at the railing and sipped her coffee, her eyes on the boathouse. What was Shane doing down there? Maybe his note had been a subtle invitation for her to join him. Maybe she would find him spread out on the small, iron bed in the guest room, waiting for her. Images of him lying back, naked and welcoming, filled her mind.

She was so caught up in her own lustful imaginings, that she didn’t see the figure of a man coming around the corner of the house until he was almost directly beneath her. Startled, she sloshed hot coffee over her hand and hastily set the mug down on the railing.

“Pete?” she asked cautiously, swiping her hand across the seat of her shorts.

A stocky man stood on the lawn below the deck, with a head of thick, auburn curls and a full beard to match. He tipped his baseball cap back on his head and peered up at her.

“Holly?” His voice registered his surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who were you expecting?”

“Shane Rafferty. He called in some groceries yesterday, and I told him I’d bring them out this morning. I knocked on the front door but there was no answer. Is he here?”

“He’s down in the boathouse. Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock,” Holly explained. “Give me a sec to put some shoes on and I’ll help you bring the groceries in.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he said, and retreated back toward the front of the house.

Holly slid her feet into a pair of sandals and went out to the driveway where Pete’s truck stood. Holly had known Pete Larson her entire life and he’d been present at more than one Durant family gathering. In fact, she was pretty sure he’d been at the lake house the night of her graduation party. He’d aged in the few years since she’d last seen him. Up close, she could see gray hair sprinkled liberally through his russet curls and laugh lines seamed his face. There were a half dozen paper sacks in the flatbed of the truck, and Pete reached in to grab one.

“Here, I’ll take that,” Holly offered, reaching for it.

Pete handed the bag to her, but Holly was unprepared for the weight of it, or the fact that her injured arm chose that moment to act up. She got her good arm around the top of the shopping bag, but her bad arm refused to grab it from the bottom, and the entire sack of goods slid through her grasp and split open on the driveway.

There was a moment of stunned silence as both Pete and Holly watched the juice from a broken jar of pickles seep into the ground, and cans of chili and spaghetti sauce roll in different directions. Pete reacted first, jumping forward to scoop up the escaping canned goods and redeposit them in the remaining bags. The sharp tang of pickle juice scented the air.

“That was my fault, Holly,” he spluttered. “The bag was too heavy and I completely forgot about your—ah—that is—”

“It’s okay, Pete,” Holly assured him, absently massaging her arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Everything okay here?”

They both turned to see Shane making his way around the corner of the house, hobbling on his cast. With one glance, he took in the broken mess on the driveway, Holly massaging her arm, and Pete’s miserable expression. He smiled ruefully.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? You should see us do the tango.” His eyes slid to Holly’s, and she didn’t miss the quick heat that flared there, or how his gaze quickly took in every detail about her. He came forward and shook the other man’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Pete. I appreciate you bringing the groceries out for me. Here, give me those two bags and come in for a cup of coffee. I’ll get the rest later.”

Pete looked doubtfully at Shane’s leg, but at an insistent nod from Shane, handed over two bags of groceries. Shane took both bags as if they weighed nothing, and made his way carefully toward the front door.

Holly waited for Pete to grab two more bags, but when she would have taken hold of the last one, both men protested.

“Leave it, Holly,” Shane commanded softly. “I’ll come out and get it later.”

Holly frowned. “I can handle one bag. I just wasn’t ready for how heavy that other one was.”

Pete gave her a friendly wink. “Never pass up an opportunity to let someone else do the work, I always say. If Shane says he’ll get it, I’d let him get it.”

Glancing at Shane’s implacable expression, Holly blew out a hard breath of frustration. “Fine,” she relented ungraciously. But as she passed Shane, she couldn’t resist a softly whispered warning. “I’m the one who gives the orders around here, got it?”

But he only grinned unrepentantly and followed her and Pete into the kitchen, where he set the bags down on the counter.

“How much do I owe you?” Shane asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “Did you have the spark plugs that I need in stock?”

“Sure did.” Pete handed him a slip and Shane withdrew several bills and passed them to the other man.

“Here’s your coffee, Pete,” Holly said, setting the coffeepot down and picking up the mug with her good hand. “You take it black, right?”

“That’s right.” Pete took the mug and sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and looked around. “I haven’t been out here in a couple of years. Place still looks great.”

“I haven’t been here in a while, either,” Holly said. She looked meaningfully at Shane. “Not since I graduated from the academy.”