Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2) (11 page)

Those words made her smile. The last time she had done anything resembling play was the night she’d pushed Mark off the raft. That was fun. He had such a cute I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this light in his eye when he went overboard. Although he had never said it, she could tell he’d been annoyed that she had gotten his shoes wet. Silly man. What did he think would happen at a lake?

Even now she didn’t know why she did that. It seemed the only way to break the walking-on-eggshells feeling that had sprung up between them since Jonathan’s death. She shouldn’t have reacted so badly to that news. All of her dreams came to a screeching halt that morning. It might not have happened the way Jonathan intended, but it happened just the same. He had no intention of coming back. Mark brought more than bad news that day. He’d brought the truth.

Libby cringed. Her real dilemma began that night at the lake with Mark. While she poured her heart out, he had made real good excuses for Jonathan’s shortcomings. He’d also listened, another trait unique to Mark.

Poor guy. Did he have to walk around in soggy dress shoes the rest of the week just because of her confused state of mind? And what about his clothes? There was something sexy about a man in wet clothes, especially after he took his shirt off. A half-naked man who actually listened? Yikes. She was in trouble. A man didn’t get any hotter than that.

But none of it mattered. He hadn’t answered her e-mail and was probably too busy with his exciting new job. She had another year and a half of schooling. After that, she would return to Spencer, maybe get a nursing job at the nearby Marshfield Clinic and settle down like all of her girlfriends. She would find someone to marry, probably have a half-dozen kids, and—

Ugh! How depressing!

Worse, she and Mark lived in two different worlds. They would never meet again. He didn’t even know that he had broken her heart simply because he left. How unfair was that?

She relived the memory as she strolled through the garden, taking in sights of the late summer roses against a background of tall, russet-colored ferns. He’d come out to the farm to say goodbye and to thank her parents for the kind way they had treated him. Faith and Marie were moping around, still hopeful he would look at them like they weren’t just friends. He promised to write Faith. After all, she’d given him a box of stationary. He had to say something.

Silly Faith might have thought she’d set a clever feminine trap with that gift, but Mark had kindly deflected the hint when he told her he wasn’t much of a letter writer. She shouldn’t hold her breath.

Like a coward, Libby had stood behind the kitchen door, listening to the small talk. Hiding. Afraid what she might see in his eyes.

Before long, he said he really needed to get on the road. She listened to another round of goodbyes and knew exactly the moment when her mother and sisters hugged him one last time. Her father told him he was always welcome. Don’t be a stranger.

Mark promised to keep in touch.

Libby gathered her wits, sucked up a shred of courage, and stepped out of the kitchen just as her father closed the front door. Mark was gone.

She panicked. In a rush, she nearly pulled the door off its hinges.

What have I done? I need to at least say goodbye.

He stood at the bottom of the steps, his head turned toward the barn like he was looking for something. Or someone. The moment he turned and saw her, his eyes lit up. The thunder in her heart at his gentle smile took her by surprise. He looked so genuinely happy.

“Wait. I … I,” she’d stammered, not sure what to say to the man who had told her Jonathan was dead.

“I was hoping you’d show up.” His tender words cajoled.

“I was just ….” Flustered, she couldn’t come up with anything that sounded even remotely authentic.
What? I was hiding? Scared? Just suddenly aware that I care about you a lot more than I should?
It took all her willpower not to run to him, bowl him over, kiss the daylights out of him and make him promise he would return.

“I have a flight out of O’Hare this afternoon.” He offered his hand when she came down the steps.

Libby nodded. Of course she knew. The kitchen door wasn’t that thick.

“I just ....” With a lump in her throat, she couldn’t speak. Shaking like a leaf, she took his hand and joined him at his car door. “Have a safe flight.”

I don’t want you to leave.

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes so full of the unsaid. “I intend to.”

“Do you have to go back ... over there?” She stalled, her fingers itching to hold onto him.

Do you really have to go so soon? Can’t you stay?

“Do you mean Afghanistan?” he’d asked. “No. I’m too short for an overseas assignment. I’ll out-process from the Corps in a couple weeks and start my new job. I’ll be stateside from now on.”

“Where?” He had to catch a flight, but her mouth kept asking questions.

Please don’t go. We need to talk. There’s so much I have to tell you. Still so much I don’t know about you.

“East Coast. I’ll be working for a company called The TEAM. Guess it’s one of the best jobs around for a guy like me.”

A guy like him? A caring, wonderful, handsome guy like him? What kind of a job is this?

“Will you ….” She paused. She didn’t want to sound needy like Faith. “Will you email me or something and let me know you made it home?”

“I will.” He still held her hand, his fingers clenching hers like he might ask her to dance at any moment. She would have. On the lawn. In the barn. Anywhere, as long as it was with him. “Will you be okay now, Libby?”

Ahh, she loved the way her name sounded on his lips, so much like a prayer. She’d nodded then because she couldn’t speak, but her heart cried,
‘No. Not if you leave me, too. I’ll never be okay.’

“You’ll make a very good nurse. I have faith in you.”

The knot in her throat tightened. Her feelings had been tender that June morning. If he would’ve tugged her even one millimeter closer, she would have jumped into his arms and buried herself there. She’d have made a fool of herself yet one more time. It was probably a good thing that he’d only squeezed her fingers and let her go.

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying. He had seen enough of her tears. She tried to be strong, but even now, remembering hurt.

Her lip hurt, too.

Healing takes time.

Libby knew better. That’s all this emotional bond with Mark was about. He represented a happier time, nothing more. She took another deep breath and enjoyed where she was today. This garden was a beautiful place to heal.

She pushed up on tiptoes to reach a flowering branch of dark magenta flowers. Despite the late season, the tree was full of blossoms. She had barely inhaled when, seemingly out of nowhere, Dr. Clements was behind her. She hadn’t heard a footstep. It happened so fast.

“May I help?” He pulled the branch down, which would have been nice, but his hand rested too quickly on the small of her back.

She spun around startled that she wasn’t alone. That put her directly in his arms. He reciprocated as if she had done that intentionally, pulling her close. Indignation clutched her throat.

“No!” She stepped back, away from him.

“Come on, Libby,” he coaxed, one hand on her wrist, the other bending the branch closer. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m just here to help.”

There was something creepy about his choice of words.

“I don’t want to fight with you, but I meant what I said.” She took another step to distance herself from him. He let the branch go.

“Your hair smells better than those flowers any day.” He took a step toward her, not acknowledging he’d heard her. “They’re crepe myrtle by the way. Lovely, aren’t they?”

Apprehension slithered through her mind. “I’m going back inside. I want to be in my seat before the next session starts.”

“I know what I’d like to do.” Despite his insinuating words, he removed his hand from her wrist. “But, have it your way.”

Instantly, she brushed the sensation of his touch away. Goosebumps wiggled across her shoulders. What was it about this guy? Weren’t doctors supposed to be smart? Didn’t he understand English?

“Come on then. I’ll walk you to class.” He was saying all the right words, but he had her backed into a corner of bushes and trees. “After you.” He made a polite flourish for her to walk ahead.

She quelled the rising panic that clutched her throat. This man was her department head. He was safe. Responsible. Trustworthy. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? All of her internal alarms were blaring at her to run. When she turned her body to step around him, he grabbed her wrist and spun her back into his arms.

“Not so fast.”

With his breath in her face, she turned away. “Listen—”

“No. You listen.” The man moved fast. With one hand fisted in her hair and another at her back, he jerked her head until she had no choice but to look up at him. “You got away from me once, but don’t think you can avoid me every night. And what’s this bullshit about not being good enough to eat with me? What? You don’t think every one saw that?” he hissed.

“Let me go,” she breathed, her heart pounding in her ears. All that nice men’s cologne didn’t smell so nice with terror clutching her throat.

He towered over her. “Listen, and listen well. I can make you, or I can break you. Remember that the next time you decide to take off on your own for a little late night rendezvous with God knows who. I didn’t come all this way to spend my nights alone.”

She gasped, his threat clear. “You – you can’t do this.”

“Oh, little girl, you have no idea what I can do.” His eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply. “You smell better than these flowers, and I intend on collecting. If I can’t have you at night ….”

His threat hung between them.

Writhing to pull away, all she managed was to give him a better handhold. With her hair twisted in his fingers, and her hands sandwiched between them, she was trapped. He pulled her closer.

“Stop it.” She squirmed, but he responded by pushing his body into hers. Desperately, she scanned her surroundings. There was no one else around. In the process of retreating from him, she had stepped beyond the view of the windows, deep within the cover of the very bushes and trees she’d come outside to admire. The fear of her predicament rocked her. No one could see. No one would know. No one would help.

With a growl, he bent her backwards, his free hand inching her dress up with his fingers.

“Let me go!” she cried.

“Come on, Libby.” He moved in for a kiss. “Call me Dirk again.”

“I’ll scream.”

His hand clamped over her mouth. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her head back. Salacious eyes glittered over her face and down her neck to the v-neck collar to her dress suit. “Of all my nurses, you’re the biggest tease. I’ve dreamed of you for weeks now. Come on. Fight me. Scream for me. That’s what I—”

“I think the lady said no.” A deep male voice boomed directly behind them.

Instantly, Dirk pressed her face into his chest. She couldn’t speak with her mouth mashed against his suit jacket, but she squirmed with everything she had. At last, she glimpsed the bearded man who had spoken. Dressed in a black top and fatigues, he stood within arm’s reach, almost close enough to help. Dark glasses masked his eyes.

Dirk clamped his hand tighter over her mouth.

She tried to bite him, but managed nothing more than a muffled growl.

“Shut up,” he snarled.

That second of breathing room was all she needed. With a shove, she was loose. Libby darted behind the stranger, smoothing her dress down over her thighs as she trembled.

He reached a steadying hand to her arm. “Is this man bothering you, ma’am?”

“No. We were in the middle of a silly lover’s spat until you butted in.” Dirk waved the stranger off.

“N - n - no, we’re not!” She pushed her hair out of her eyes, her teeth chattering. “He was going to—”

“It’s none of your business what I was going to do,” Dirk shouted. He shoved the stranger’s shoulder, but the bearded man didn’t budge an inch. It looked more like Dirk had tried to push a wall.

“I’m making it my business.” The man hadn’t raised his voice, but Libby heard the menacing power in his tone. By then, he’d planted himself squarely between the good doctor and her. “Ma’am? Is this man your husband?”

“No!” she cried.
What an odd question.
“God, no. He’s a—”

“If you must know, I’m her psychiatrist,” Dirk roared out another lie. “Restraint is a known method of treatment. She was hysterical. I was simply restraining her to—”

“You lie! You were hurting me!” she screamed, “and I’m not hysterical either!”

Libby glanced at the man in fatigues, afraid he might never believe her now. If anything, she had just made Dirk’s case for him, but then she really looked at the stranger. His dark beard did not hide the square line of his jaw. Muscular shoulders roped his broad chest before it tapered off to a trim waist. The way he stood so sure of himself, his hard body shielding her from danger, gave her a déjà vue kind of feeling, like she had seen him standing exactly like that before. He looked confident. Proud. Honorable.

When he took a step forward, Dirk took a matching step backwards.

“Where I come from, we treat women like ladies,” the stranger said evenly.

“Where I come from, we mind our own business!” Dirk shot back. He ducked his shoulder to pass the stranger. He didn’t get far.

The man moved so fast that Libby yelped. In a flash, he had hold of Dirk’s lapels, his fist curled inward as he angled Dirk’s face into his. The doctor’s feet were nearly off the ground, and his back was to the same bushes where he had just cornered her. Now he was the one in danger.

“If you ever, and I mean ever, touch this young lady again ….” the man hissed.

Libby tugged at his elbow. He’d changed so drastically from calm to ferocious.

“B-b-but ….” Dirk found his squeaky voice.

“If you so much as dream of laying a finger on her,” the stranger rasped. “I’ll rip that finger off and make you eat it.”

Dirk’s jaw dropped. He sputtered, his lips moving in a good impression of a silent movie.

“Do I make myself clear?”

By then, the men were nose to nose. Dirk’s toes were pedaling the sidewalk. His head bobbed in response. “Y-y-yes,” he answered meekly.

“Then get the hell out of here.” The stranger pushed Dirk backwards into the bushes. Without stopping to tuck his shirt back into his pants or to tell another lie, Dr. Clements beat a hasty retreat. He had almost gotten away when the man called after him.

“Hey! You forgot something!”

Dirk spun around, his eyes wide with fright. “I, I what?”

“You forgot that these things take amazing videos.” The stranger waved his cell phone high in the air. “I am a witness to what you did here today, and I can find you any time I want.”

Dirk nodded once before he turned and all but ran back to the building.

Libby stood alone with the stranger. He had just rescued her, but he had a scary side, too. Smoothing her hair out of her face, she was a little afraid to look at him.

“Th-thanks,” she muttered, still trying to stop her shaking. “Thank you—”

“Libby,” he said softly, lifting his dark glasses to the top of his head. “Don’t you recognize me?”

The change in his voice brought her face up.

“Mark?” She clutched his sleeve. “Is that you?”

He stood rock solid as she barreled into him, his open arms wrapping her tight and safe. Relief flooded her. These arms she knew. Her heart pounded, making her voice squeaky and weak. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Believe me,” he muttered into her neck. “The pleasure is all mine.”

A shiver of panic shuddered through her body. She had come close to being assaulted. “He was going to hurt me.”

“He’s gone now.” Mark tucked her under his chin. “I’ve got you now. Don’t cry.”

Like she could have stopped if she’d wanted to. He handed her a cloth handkerchief, which she promptly saturated. She eased away from him to blow her nose. “Gosh, I’m a mess.”

“Looks like I got here just in time.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Tenderness shone in his dark eyes. “Who was that jerk?”

Libby glanced back to where she had been trapped a moment earlier. Her throat dried just thinking about it. “Dr. Dirk Clements. My department head at the university. We’re attending the same conference, only he’s got a different kind of conference in mind.”

She blew her nose one last time, her hands trembling so hard she was afraid she would drop the handkerchief and end up blowing her nose on her bare fingers. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life. It’s been too long.”

“You didn’t answer any of my e-mails.” The way he blurted those words out sounded sad. Disappointed.

“I did. Last night ... I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been busy. I didn’t know if I should. If we—” She stopped spouting her lame excuses.

“I missed you,” he said softly, closing the distance between them again.

He didn’t get another word out of his mouth. Too many months of wondering where he was and how he was doing fell away. One moment she was wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and the next, her lips were on his. Her fingers gained easy access to the sides of his head, combing through dark locks of more hair than he had last time she’d seen him. His sunglasses slipped back farther on his head. She kissed him hard, and he kissed her with the same hunger. The surprise on his whiskered mouth quickly changed to
welcome home, Libby
. He tasted wonderful, minty, salty, and—him. His beard tickled, but his lips—soft, warm and incredibly satisfying.

He lifted both of her feet off the ground. Her knees bent and even her toes arched in feminine surrender. Mark was all she felt from lips to toes, and he felt very, very good.

The kiss deepened. When he groaned softly, she wholeheartedly agreed. For one breathless moment, the warmth and taste of another man on her mouth consumed her. An unexpected appetite for this man roared to life. She wanted more. She wanted—

What am I thinking? What have I done?

Libby pushed away. She’d just overstepped the limit of friendship in too many ways.

Mark placed her feet back to the ground reluctantly, his hand still circling her wrist.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that … it’s just that—” Embarrassment strangled a sob out of her. She lowered her eyes. “Gosh, I’ve missed you, and you look so good. I shouldn’t have done that though. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m not.” Mark pulled her back under his chin, his hand flat between her shoulder blades. “Don’t apologize.”

He stroked the back of her head like he needed to calm her. It worked. His gentle side released all of her confused emotions, and once again, her tears got the best of her. She wasn’t crying for herself anymore, but for all the wasted months waiting for a man who didn’t really want her, all the lies she had tried so hard to believe, and all her broken dreams. The gate to her grief had opened, and Mark was the only one there to witness. She snuggled into his arms, the smell of him filling her nose with memories from the lake, the airport, and the cemetery. He’d been there during every painful time in her life, quietly and steadfastly waiting for her to notice.

“I used to think he loved me,” she admitted. “He lied, Mark. Jonathan lied.”

“Shhhhh,” he soothed. “I know. It’s over. It’s done. You’re safe now.”

And there it was. She heard what Mark had not said. Yes, she was safe from Dirk, but now she was also safe from Jon. Libby blew out a big sigh. The weight she’d carried for a long time lifted out of her. She could breathe.

Mark tipped her chin up, kind eyes taking in every feature of her blotchy, tear-stained face. She saw the question in those dark browns, and the hesitation. Very slowly, he leaned in, as if asking permission. With that sweet question silently posed, she raised her lips, and he closed the distance. The tenderest feelings flooded her when his mouth touched hers. Realization struck home. She was done with regret and anger. She was done with friendship, too. She wanted more.

He ended the kiss, whispering hotly against her cheek. “I am so glad I showed up.”

She stroked the beard on his chin. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him. This man had some gorgeous hair on his head instead of that uptight military cut. Pushing her fingers into his scalp, he sighed, and she paused. This rescue could turn into some serious petting if she didn’t knock it off. With one last stroke of her index fingertip along the edge of his ear, she pulled her hand away.