Serving the Soldier - Part 1 (An Alpha Military Romance) (2 page)

I stared. Oh my God. This is my client? The man who opened the door wore only a pair of swimming trunks. He was
hot!
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, gorgeous pecs and of course, six pack abs that invited my gaze to dip lower. I was proud of myself for resisting the urge. The guy was probably six-three or six-four, so my eyes were on level with his chest.

When I looked up, I felt a surprising tingle in my nipples. My pulse accelerated and I’m sure my blood pressure went up.

Odd, I’d never felt such a reaction to a guy before. Still, he oozed s-e-x. I idly wondered what it would be like to be kissed by such a handsome, well-built, and obviously fit, barring the wounds, guy. A strong face, the traditional army haircut framing the dark eyebrows, high cheekbones, a strong jaw line, and a nose that looked like it’d been broken a time or two.

His lips were typical lips, and at the moment, they weren’t smiling. In fact they were frowning. I focused on them as he uttered two crisp words. “You’re late.”

I felt a moment of startled dismay, glanced down at my watch, and saw that it was two minutes past six o’clock in the morning. I glanced up at him and offered an embarrassed shrug and raised eyebrow. “Sorry about that, I was admiring the scenery.”

He said nothing, but gave me a look that swept from the top of my head to my toes and back again. His gaze left a blaze of fire everywhere his eyes went. For a second, I felt as if he was imagining me naked. What the hell? In
my
mind’s eye I tried to imagine him naked.

Shit.

I had never felt sexually attracted to any of my clients. Okay, so most of them were old, but still. No doubt about it. I felt an immediate attraction to this guy. This wasn’t good.

He stepped back, opening the door a little wider to allow me entry. I stepped in, looking up at him. “My name is Angie Meadows.” I offered my hand. He looked at it for a moment and then reached out to grasp it; shook gently, retrieved his hand and then backed up.

“Jackson Andrews. Call me Jax.”

He closed the door and stood unmoving. I glanced up at him again, again lifting an eyebrow, a nervous habit of mine, I’m afraid. Normally, I didn’t feel so awkward. Normally, I was familiar with taking charge, ensuring the client that I knew what I was doing, and was able to provide solid and firm direction as to what they should expect from me.

For some reason, maybe because of his age and his looks, I felt a little off balance and unsure. I attempted to break the silence, gesturing toward my car on the other side of the door. “I have a few things…”

His dark brown eyes continued to stare down at me as if assessing me and whether I was right for this job. For a second, I felt a brief surge of alarm that he would tell me I wasn’t going to work out. Maybe I wasn’t what he had expected. I had no way of knowing what that was, but perhaps after I got settled in we could sit down and get acquainted.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying, and then we’ll deal with your luggage.”

With that, he turned and walked slowly down the hallway that branched off from the marble tiled foyer. I glanced at his back, my eyes widening with alarm when I saw the scars. When Nancy said he had a back injury, she wasn’t kidding. A five-by-five gauze pad covered what I assumed was the surgical incision over his lumbar spine at the base of his back, a portion of it disappearing beneath the waistband of his swimming trunks, which he wore low on his hips. He walked with a straight back, although his steps were slow, almost as if he was testing his weight with each step before moving forward.

I was distracted from admiring the surroundings of the home as I studied his back. One sickle-shaped and jagged scar ran from the mid part of his back down toward the base of his spine. Several additional three- to four-inch scars were visible near the curved scar on one side of his back. A couple of shorter yet ridged and angry-looking purple scars stood out on his left side, while another fresh looking scar ran from beneath his trunks and down his right thigh, curving toward the back of the knee.

In addition to the newer scar tissue, I also saw signs of older scar tissue; one on the back of his shoulder, the others on his arms and legs. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering his background, but still. He was anxious to get back to duty?

I knew he’d been assigned a mobility device, two actually; a walker and a cane. I would have to bring this up when we had our first sit-down chat. Nancy was right. He was noncompliant. I had gotten a more complete history of his injuries and his plan of care from Nancy and his therapist yesterday afternoon.

The therapist made no bones about the fact that Mister Andrews — Jax — was noncompliant, impatient with the slow pace of her proposed plan of therapy, and pretty much did as he pleased. She said she had warned him several times that his determination to start walking and engaging in otherwise normal activities sooner than recommended could result in permanent injury. He had shrugged off her concerns. I also knew that she had warned Jax that if he continued to be noncompliant, there would be no point in her continuing her restorative efforts with him.

I followed Jax as he slowly took the gently curving staircase up to the second floor. He took his time, placing one foot carefully on each step before attempting another. I followed patiently behind. After we reached the landing he offhandedly commented about the rooms we passed. Library in here, his office in there, master bedroom down at the end of the hall. My room, the guest bedroom, was situated across the hall from his and a few steps further down. He opened the door and stepped back, allowing me to look inside. My eyes widened in amazement although I schooled my features so as not to express my awe.

The room was gorgeous, painted in a soft green with thick white crown molding at the ceiling line, wainscoting along the middle, and a small print patterned forest green wallpaper between the wainscoting and the four-inch baseboard molding. The floors were highly polished walnut or mahogany, I wasn’t sure which. An old-fashioned four-poster bed, heavy dresser, side tables, and a desk filled up the space without seeming too overcrowded. All of the furniture looked decades-old, but highly polished and well maintained.

“I hope this will be suitable for you,” he said.

I nodded. “It’s just fine, thank you,” I said, turning to him. “I’m going out to the car to get my things, and then maybe in a little while we can sit down and chat and get acquainted, okay?”

He gave me another one of his inscrutable looks and then nodded. “You’re the boss.”

I didn’t believe it for a minute.

He gestured over a shoulder toward his office space down the hall. “I’ll be in there. I’d offered to help you with your luggage, but I’ve been warned,” he said.

His lips twisted with sarcasm and a flash of frustration or impatience, I couldn’t tell which, marred his otherwise perfect face. “No worries, I don’t have much, just a small suitcase on wheels and a backpack. You go on about your business. I’ll find you.” Again, he gazed down at me, his eyes studying my face. For a brief instant, I wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in his embrace, and then shook my head. What the hell was I thinking? He’s my client. A patient. No doubt about it, this situation would take some getting used to.

***

Less than an hour later, I had finished unpacking. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of Jax anywhere during that time. It felt awkward. Was he against the live-in situation or just the fact that he required a full-time nurse while he recuperated? Was his sense of pride injured as severely as his body?

I knew the military mindset. I had grown up on numerous military bases during my growing up years and had been immersed in the military life forever. I classified the younger guys into two groups; mainly jerks who bragged endlessly about real or imagined exploits, or the quiet ones. Some were in the middle, but I immediately got the impression that Jax belonged to the latter group.

He had no visible tattoos emblazoned on his body announcing to the world what he did, but I wasn’t surprised about that. Delta Force often engaged in clandestine missions and having a tattoo designating your military affiliation wasn’t highly encouraged. Anyway, I had yet to spend five solid minutes with the guy.

After I unpacked, I looked around the room, once again admiring the décor. The bed was super comfortable. I had already tested it. In fact, I stared at it longingly for a moment, wishing I could lie down and rest for a few minutes.

With a sigh, I moved to the bedroom window. The window looked out into the back yard. It was landscaped as beautifully as the front yard; a kidney shaped, sparkling blue swimming pool surrounded by huge granite or whatever type stone slabs, a rose garden off to the right, lawns with flower or shrub edgings on the other sides, and beyond the pool, a tennis court. Whoever the house belonged to, they were loaded.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned again toward the swimming pool. My eyes widened and I gasped out loud when I saw Jax approaching the pool. What was he up to? Moments later, I found out. He yanked down his swimming trunks, bending slowly as he stepped out of them. He stood at the edge of the pool while I fought to tame my erratic pulse. Crap. He was gorgeous… those broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waistline and buttocks that just made me want to reach out and squeeze them. Strong thighs, well defined calf muscles—

“Wait!” I nearly shouted, quickly turning from the window and hurrying from my room. He couldn’t go swimming, not with the incision. Dammit! Which way should I go to get out to the backyard? I turned toward the front of the house, looking for the kitchen. Most kitchens had a door leading to an outdoor patio or porch. I didn’t glance into any of the side rooms, though I wished I could explore the interior of this gorgeous house at my leisure. Maybe later.

I found the kitchen and entered, quickly spotting a door that opened to the back patio and rushed through it. “Wait!” I shouted. Too late. I heard a splash. Shit. I made a beeline for the swimming pool. “Mister Andrews! Jax!”

I heard the sound of splashing again and hurried along the winding stone pathway until I emerged on the other side of a shoulder-high stand of shrubs. I stopped dead in my tracks when I spied Jax casually swimming the length of the pool, using a long, smooth overhead stroke to propel him through the water. He didn’t kick his feet too much, but I barely noticed as my gazed was fixed on his physique. Damn. I felt a surge of desire rush through me, and to my horror, felt a throbbing low in my belly. I shook it off.

“Mister Andrews!” I shouted, hurrying around the side of the pool to keep pace with his long, strong strokes. “Mister Andrews!”

He paused at the end of the pool, looked up at me and then pushed off the side and stroked his way back to the shallow end. I could do nothing but follow on the stone decking, sputtering in outrage. What the hell was wrong with him? “Stop!” I ordered. “Mister Andrews, you stop swimming right now!”

He ignored me, one long, graceful stroke after another. I followed him to the shallow end.

“Mister Andrews!” I shouted once more. He paused as he reached for the edge of the pool and glanced up at me.

“Jax,” he said.

I scowled down at him. “Jax,” I said, hands on my hips. “You shouldn’t be in the pool! You need to get out.” He stared up at me, his lips twisted in amusement.

“Why? It’s good, non-weight bearing exercise.”

I groaned low in my throat. “Mister—Jax, you have a surgical incision that hasn’t healed completely and I haven’t gotten a look at the other healing wounds either. There are germs in that pool. You’ll get infected—”

“You want me to get out of the water?” he asked.

“I do!”

He did just that. I gaped as he casually made his way to the steps leading out of the water onto the stone decking, not in the least mindful that he was naked. Oh my
God
. I tried not to look, really I did, but I couldn’t help it.

Water glistened on his tanned torso. Propelled by gravity, beads of it hung onto his chin and dripped slowly down onto his rock-hard chest. One drop of water hung onto his nipple and then dropped even further downward, taking my gaze along with it.

I’d seen cocks before, lots of them, but most were old and shriveled with age. His was… well, admirable. Nestled in a cluster of black hair, his dick was thick and perfectly formed, as if the water hadn’t bothered him a bit. Two large balls descended from behind his penis, round, plump and—

He cleared his throat, and I jolted back to awareness, feeling the heat of a blush flood upward from my neck to my cheeks. “I’m… I apologize, Mister Andr—Jax,” I fumbled over my words. I forced my gaze to remain on his face. “I—” I shook off my embarrassment over having been caught ogling. “You shouldn’t be in the pool until that incision has completely healed.” I gestured. “The bandage is already coming off—” He surprised me when he reached behind his back and ripped it off the rest of the way.

“Jax—”

“You have to replace it anyway, don’t you?” he said innocently.

He didn’t fool me a bit. I frowned. “I have been warned about you, Jax,” I informed him.

He didn’t bother to reach for his trunks, lying in a puddle of rayon on the stones near his feet. I did, lifting them gingerly between my thumb and forefinger.

“And just what have you been warned about, Miss… Miss… sorry, I forgot your name.”

“My name is Angie. Angie Meadows.”

“Well, Angie,” he said, standing with his feet slightly spread, arms crossed over his chest.

“What have you been warned about me?”

I returned his stare. Better not to give him any indication I was off my game, distracted, or a pushover. “That you’re being noncompliant with your care plan—”

“Me? Noncompliant? As in not doing what I’m told?”

I made a face, giving him my best ‘nurse’ expression. “I’m no newbie, Mister… Jax. So don’t think you can take advantage of me—”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he grinned.

Again his gaze swept from my head to my toes. I wondered what he saw. What he thought of me. What would he think if he saw
me
naked? Then again, maybe I didn’t want to know.

“Please. Let’s go inside and I can take a look at that, get it cleaned up, and put a dry bandage on it, okay?”

He tilted his head, as if contemplating. Contemplating what, I wondered. How far he could push me? How much it would take until I quit? Well, I wasn’t about to quit. Jax Andrews would be a handful — wait, that didn’t sound right. I knew the guy was going to be a stubborn pain in the ass, but to be completely honest with myself, I needed the money. Besides, he was so handsome. Intriguing. He could be a jerk, but I hadn’t spent enough time around him yet to make that determination. Time would tell.

Without a word, Jax shrugged. Then he uncrossed his arms, turned around and began to walk back toward the house. I still held his swimming trunks in my hand. I shook my head, trying to prevent myself from grinning as I followed him back to the house, admiring the shape of his buttocks the entire way.

“Where do you want to do this?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I don’t care,” I sighed. “Where you’d feel most comfortable, I guess. Let me locate the bag of supplies that you should have brought home from the hospital and make sure I’ll have everything I need.” I stayed a few feet behind him, not wanting to make him feel rushed. “Otherwise, I’ll grab my own kit.”

Besides, I was admiring the view. None of my other boyfriends had looked like this. That was for sure. The fact that Jax was not at all self-conscious about prancing around in front of a total stranger naked made me wonder. Was he always so obnoxious, or was he testing me?

Probably testing me, I decided. I was beginning to get the impression that Jax Andrews did what he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted. I’m sure he knew how to follow orders or he still wouldn’t be in the military, let alone a special ops unit.

Did he cut loose and act like this when he wasn’t on duty to counterbalance the intensity demanded when on a mission? Living it up, so to speak, because with every mission he went on, he might not come back? I had no idea, but I had a feeling that Jax was full of secrets.

No doubt about it, he intrigued me. Unfortunately, I didn’t really have any girlfriends that I could talk to about this. My life kept me pretty busy and socializing was low on my list of priorities. I was usually so tired from the constant mental stimulation of continuously providing oversight for my elderly patients and helping them physically that when I got home from work, all I wanted to do was lounge around on my sofa and watch TV. Brainless activity. Nevertheless, I often needed the total mental and physical downtime.

My older patients could be quite challenging, physically as well as mentally. Having to constantly watch after them, especially the ones with dementia, required me to always be on my toes, making sure they stayed safe.

One of my clients, a nice old lady in her eighties, had dementia, and was currently going through Sundowner’s phase. I had the night shift with her and didn’t get much sleep those nights because she tended to get up in the middle of the night and leave the house to “catch the train to work”, not remembering that she had been retired for nearly thirty years. Waking up out of a sound sleep and trying to convince her with a variety of excuses that she didn’t need to get out the door and go to work was so challenging and draining that I was often mentally exhausted the following day.

Still, I loved my job, and every one of my clients was a pleasure to serve. Well, at least most of them were. I wasn’t sure how this thing with Jax would turn out. I got the distinct impression that he was going to test me at every turn. Noncompliant my ass. He was just pushing everyone’s buttons for his own amusement. Well, if he thought he was going to push my buttons, he was mistaken—

“After you.”

He had reached the back door to the house. The one I had just charged through only moments before. He stood in front of me, holding the door open, slightly turned toward me, as if once again daring me to ogle him. I deliberately kept my eyes focused on his face as I offered him a smile and walked into the house in front of him. Now it was his turn to stare, although I was sure that my scrubs didn’t offer nearly the enticing view that his naked buttocks had.

“Most of the supplies I brought home from the hospital are in the master bath,” he commented. “I guess we might as well take care of this in my bedroom.”

Now it was my turn to glance over my shoulder at him. “That’s fine,” I said, although I had to admit that the thought of taking care of him in his bedroom, naked at that, elicited a number of sensations that began to thrum through me. I felt that hot and heavy feeling burgeoning again, low in my belly, and a fresh image of his thick cock caused a friction of excitement to immediately harden my nipples. Stop it!

I was appalled at this instant physical attraction and reaction to him, but had no time to stop and analyze it now. Shoving his good looks and sexuality into the nether recesses of my mind, I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand. Clean the incision site, make sure he hadn’t pulled any stitches lose, re-bandage the site—

I headed up the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that I felt his eyes on me the entire way. Feeling slightly wicked and wanting to get back at him a little bit, I sashayed my hips a little more than necessary as I mounted the stairs.

Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he would take it as an invitation. The last thing I needed was to get physically involved with a client within a few hours of meeting him. Not only could I get fired, but it was against my personal standards. Nurses didn’t get involved with their patients. Period.

“Third door on the left,” he reminded me.

I pushed open the door to his bedroom, not surprised by the masculine decor. No sign of anything feminine; bare hardwood floors, Persian style throw rugs on either side of the bed, the walls bare of any personal photos or mementos, and the four-poster bed similar to mine except bigger, with a dark green, plain comforter.

The bed was made to perfection, nothing lying around, no clothes on the floor. Opposite the bed stood a low, long walnut-colored dresser on top of which stood a huge flat screen TV. Beyond the dresser was a doorway that I assume led to the bathroom. Another door on the wall to my left probably led to the closet. Between the closet and the corner of that wall stood a tall matching chest of drawers.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, motioning to the bed while I continued to head toward the bathroom door. “I need to see what kind of supplies you have here.” I didn’t even look to see if he had followed my instructions as I continued into the bathroom.

Larger than expected. I paused just inside the doorway, admiring the step down combination tub and Jacuzzi, a glassed in shower stall lined with one-inch marble tiling and glistening white grout, and a smooth black and silver marble countertop with two matching sinks and glistening clean faucets. Over the entire length of the sink counter hung a mirror.

“All the stuff you need is in the cabinets under the sink,” he said from the bedroom.

I crouched down and opened the cabinets one at a time. Even the supplies and accessories underneath the cabinets were neatly arranged. On the left; shampoos, soap, wash cloths, and towels. In the middle, the piping. On the right I found two white plastic bags with pull strings that looked like those the hospital gave you to bring supplies or personal belongings home. I pulled the bags out from underneath the counter and placed them on the countertop, looking inside each one.

I rummaged around for several moments, found several paper packages containing sterile squares of gauze, a small role of one-inch webbed surgical tape, a pair of surgical style scissors — good, I wouldn’t have to go back to my room to get my own pair. I also found the antibiotic ointment and a small, metric plastic measuring square.

I grabbed what I needed and quickly made my way back into the bedroom, startled once again. He lounged on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, a pillow behind his back, and his legs crossed at the ankles, still stark naked.

His dick lay flaccid in its nest of dark curls, but this time I resisted the urge to stare and glanced up at his face. Was he smirking at me? What to do about it was another question entirely — one I didn’t have the energy at the moment to deal with.

I was a professional, I reminded myself. I was a practiced, trained, and experienced nurse. I had dealt with a wide variety of clients, personalities, and challenges. Unfortunately, I’d never dealt with anyone quite like Jax Andrews.

With a sigh, I approached the side of the bed upon which he lay, arranging the supplies side by side on the oak bedside table. A small lamp stood on one corner of the table, a small digital clock with red glowing numbers on the other.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

I had a feeling that he’d been through this routine enough to know exactly what he was supposed to do, but if he wanted to test me, so be it. “Turn over and lie on your stomach, please,” I instructed.