Terms of Surrender (11 page)

“It’s the Midas man,” somebody muttered.

Midas man?
She stiffened, more confused than before.

“Mind if I jump in?” he asked, his voice smooth and calm. She, apparently, was the only one feeling like a complete wreck at this unexpected interaction.

Of course, it hadn’t been unexpected for him. There had been no surprise in his expression when their stares had met. She suspected he’d come here, knowing he’d find her, though why, she couldn’t say. He’d been brushing her off for weeks. Why bother to seek her out now?

Maybe he’s horny.

Yeah. Maybe. If so, she just hoped he was on a firstname basis with his own hand, because he sure wasn’t getting any satisfaction from her.

Neither are you.

Right. No satisfaction for her, either. That hurt a little to think about because, to be honest, she didn’t think she’d ever been with a man who’d satisfied her more.

But it wasn’t happening. Not ever again.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and I give up Mad-Mari.com and change my website to Stupid-Mari.

Danny didn’t wait for permission before speaking. “You all know lying is never the right way to go.” He glanced around at the others in the crowded room, then back at the first boy, who sat just a few feet away from Mari. And when he spoke, she knew he was talking as much to her as to the students. “But having a mature, trusting relationship goes both ways. You each have to not only be honest, but you have to be willing to
listen.
”

Listen. Huh. That honey-tongued man was far too easy to listen to, that was part of the problem!

“If you make a mistake, and want to set things right, you have to hope the person with whom you want to make amends is willing to hear you out,” he added.

“That only works if you actually have a decent, reasonable excuse,” Marissa added.

He finally gave her his full attention, those amber eyes glistening with the intensity of his stare. “And how are you going to know whether the excuse is decent and reasonable unless you give him a chance to explain?”

She turned to face him, as well. “Some things don’t require explanation.”

“Like?”

“Like lying about who you are and what you do. That is inexcusable.”

“Whose to say somebody lied? I mean, did the actual words leave his mouth? Did he tell this girl, ‘I’m not in the navy,’ or did she just assume it?”

She hesitated.

As if not realizing the two adults in the room were shooting comments back and forth to each other, the boy said, “You mean, like, if I just met somebody at a club and wasn’t with my boys or in uniform and it just didn’t come up?”

Danny nodded. “Something like that.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she insisted.

“How do you know?” Danny asked. “How can you be sure if you won’t let him explain things?”

Hesitating, Marissa quickly thought back to the day they’d met. To their conversation, their every interaction. Had he ever actually
said
he was a mechanic, or that he was just visiting the base? Or that the name on his mechanic’s overalls didn’t mean what she thought it meant?

The Midas Man.

Gold hair. Sexy, confident, strong, smart. Immaculately uniformed…with, oh, God, was that a set of wings on his collar?

The truth washed over her.

Son of a bitch. Her good-with-his-hands mechanic was a navy pilot. An elite, reckless, danger-loving, highly romanticized flyboy who probably had women throwing themselves at him every single day—at least, they certainly did in the movies. She’d probably been just another walk in the park—or a roll on the deck—to him.

Those greasy coveralls? Apparently a flight suit.

The word she’d taken for a company logo?

“Midas is your call sign,” she whispered.

He heard. And nodded once.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to pull her thoughts together. Yes, she’d obviously made a big assumption…but he could have corrected it. Correction: he
should
have corrected it. She very easily recalled their conversation about the military, when she’d mentioned her family, told him she’d broken a rule by dating a soldier. Could he really have been using pure semantics to think she didn’t mean a sailor, as well?

Tilting her chin up, she opened her eyes and struggled to remain cool and impassive.

Sticking his hand out, obviously for the benefit of their audience, he said, “Lieutenant Commander Danny Wilkes. Aka Midas.”

Unable to do anything else, Marissa lifted hers, as well. The brush of skin on skin was electric, like it had been from the very start, and she pulled away as quickly as she could, certain her fingertips had been singed by the heat of him. She didn’t like that he affected her still, when she’d spent the past several days trying hard to get over him. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d had a night of great sex and shouldn’t have expected anything more, anyway.
Almost.

Trouble was, she had expected more. He’d made her expect more.

Even worse, she’d wanted more. He’d made her want more.

Shaking off the images flooding her head, she got right back to the point—to the realization she’d quickly made, even after acknowledging she’d been the one who’d jumped the gun that day they’d met. “Okay, so maybe she makes a foolish assumption. But maybe he shouldn’t keep his big mouth shut and play innocent when the conversation turns to how much she dislikes men in the military.”

“Present company excepted?” Danny asked.

She caught her lip between her teeth and looked at the faces of the suddenly-more-interested young men. “Of course, I was talking in generalities, not about anyone here.”

“So was I,” he retorted. “I mean, what if he figured she was making a general statement, not talking specifically about him. Because as far as he can tell, why
wouldn’t
she know who he is and what he does?”

She shook her head, a little confused, not to mention still very jumpy.

Another boy piped in. “But she doesn’t, ’cause they just met at a club and he’s not with his boys or in uniform.”

Danny turned to the student. “But say she met him on base and he was on KP and wearing a kitchen smock…and she assumes he’s a cook.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Marissa closed her eyes briefly, knowing exactly where he was going.

He spelled it out. “So how’s he supposed to know she’d make that assumption if she didn’t say, ‘Hey, how do you like being a cook?’ He’s in his everyday element. Would it immediately occur to him that she’d assume he was something else?”

“Maybe not,” she whispered, realizing it was true.

Danny had to have been in the navy for a very long time if he was a pilot. Which meant his job had become part of his persona. He was on a navy base, wearing what she now knew had been some kind of uniform. So of course his natural assumption would have been that it was pretty obvious he belonged there.

“No,” he said, his voice almost as low as hers. “Maybe not. So is he still a really bad guy for not realizing what she thought and spelling it out?”

Marissa’s attitude softened the tiniest bit—there was no denying the warmth in his expression. She believed him, on this at least. She’d been the one who’d made a pretty big assumption, one which he hadn’t even recognized.

“I suppose he isn’t,” she admitted.

Danny smiled, then turned to the boys. “See? Talking, listening, they’re good skills to have.”

Especially if you talked as sweetly as the smooth-tongued man beside her.

She stiffened, her defenses remaining high. Because he was good at this—sweet-talking. He was so charming, so quick-witted. Sure, his reasoning had been good, but would she have fallen for it as readily if this conversation had been with anyone less adept at using words to his advantage?

Maybe. Or maybe not.

And maybe if it had
just
been the job thing, she could let this go, as he seemed to want her to. No, things could never go much further between them than sex—his job
was
an issue, whether he’d lied about it or not. But the sex had been pretty damned spectacular and there were worse ways to
have fun
with someone, even if there was no future in it.

The fact remained, however, that he hadn’t called. No biggie if he hadn’t promised he would. Well, it would have been a biggie to her, because whatever she’d said about it at the time, she had truly wanted him to.

The point was, he
had
promised. He’d made her believe he was desperate to see her again. Not just saying he’d call, but asking her to plug in her number so he wouldn’t possibly lose it, giving her a specific day on which she’d hear from him.

He hadn’t followed through. And it had hurt. Badly. The cyber-blood she’d spilled on her website during that time was a stark reminder of just how much she had been hurt.

The very fact that it had hurt her so much meant it was time to cut her losses. Sex for fun’s sake was one thing. Sex with someone who had the power to hurt her—one she knew she had no future with—was another thing entirely.

Maybe the twenty-two-year-old Mad-Mari would have taken the risk and just gone for a great sexual affair. But the adult Marissa, who was moving on to the next phase of her life, just wasn’t willing to do it.

“That’s a very good point,” she finally said, eyeing Danny, then casting her attention toward the class. “The scenario Dan…er, Commander Wilkes shared is a good example of how miscommunication can affect relationships.”

That sexy mouth widened a tiny bit, and his tense posture might have eased, too. As if he really cared about her response.

Which she might have believed…if he hadn’t blown her off after she’d left that morning.

“So you…she, wouldn’t hold it against him?” he asked, obviously wanting it written in stone.

“Maybe not that,” she conceded.

He pressed his advantage. “And at least if she’s not upset about that, she might stick around long enough to get to know you, give you a chance to tell her some things she might need to hear.”

She shrugged. Keeping her tone cool, she replied, “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just not interested in hearing any more. But at least you haven’t lied about it. The important thing is, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” She shot him a direct stare. “And once she makes it clear that she’s not interested, you need to let it go and move on.”

His mouth tightened, and she’d swear she heard a sigh of frustration, even as the students took up the conversation amongst themselves.

Then she definitely heard something else.

Him. Muttering two words.

“Like hell.”

7

Monday, 5/23/10, 07:05 p.m.
www.mad-mari.com/2011/05/23/onedown

Well, I made it through day one on the job, and I think it went pretty well. Most importantly, I liked it. Not getting into specifics here, but I have to say I think I’ve found something I might be really good at. Or, at least, a group I am good at working with.

Sounds cryptic, I know. Sorry. I really have to keep my real life separate from my cyber one.

Here’s something interesting…I ran into Mr. Perfect.

No, he didn’t explain why he didn’t call. Well, actually, I didn’t give him a chance to. He tried to talk to me as I was leaving, but ended up getting called over by some bigwig, so I made my getaway. Yes, that’s me, the chickenshit. Figured it was better to play it cool and act like I don’t care enough to want an explanation than to be a blubbery girl and be all self-righteous about it.

Interestingly, though, we did have a chance to speak, albeit in front of an audience. And it turns out I made a pretty big mistake the day we met. So while I can still think he’s a numero uno creeper for blowing me off the morning after, I can’t be mad at him for…something else.

Argh! I know it’s frustrating that I can’t expound—it frustrates me, too. But trust me, I can’t. Heaven forbid this guy ever find out who I am and stumble over this blog. Can you imagine him reading my entries over the past couple of weeks, when I’ve done something I NEVER do—pretty much spilled my heart all over the web? :shudder:

Interestingly, I kinda think he cared about me forgiving him. It mattered to him.

And I suspect he might even have wanted to see me again. But considering how blue I felt after he didn’t call, no way am I gonna travel down Excitement Road into Ditched-and-Heartbroken Valley again.

Anyway, I’m feeling better on one hand, worse on the other. Why does trying to be smart and sensible leave you feeling so damned miserable? Discuss!

Have a good one—

Mari

DANNY ARRIVED ON MARISSA’S street at 6:30 the next evening, wondering what kind of reaction he was going to get when he knocked on her apartment door.

A good, solid slam probably had the highest odds.

A welcoming kiss? About slim to none.

But that didn’t deter him. He had to see her, to explain things to her. That last zinger in the classroom today told him she had her back up and wasn’t going to make it easy on him. But hell, the best things in life never came easily.

Besides, he had another reason to talk to her—and it had nothing to do with them, personally.

“Damn you, Riddick,” he mumbled, not for the first time. It appeared the old dean had managed to actually cause some trouble this time—trouble aimed directly at Marissa.

Though, to be honest, he had to give credit where it was due—Riddick might be an ass, but he’d done Danny a favor today. Because the man’s complaints had actually enabled Danny to get Mari’s address. When the Deputy to the Commandant had asked Danny to his office late this afternoon, and shared Riddick’s concerns—and the deputy’s solution—Danny had been ready to kiss them both. Not only because Danny now had the perfect excuse to ask for Mari’s contact information, but because he also had a solid reason to spend time with her.

Hopefully, there would be enough time for him to explain about his phone…and get her to agree to give him another chance. Knowing now that she had a serious thing against any man in uniform had pushed the obstacle even higher, but he wasn’t about to give up without at least making sure she knew he hadn’t blown her off.

Arriving at her place in downtown Baltimore, he hoped she didn’t live in a high-security building, where he’d have to buzz her to get her to let him in. He suspected she wouldn’t do it and he’d be left trying to sneak in behind another resident. That was all he needed, getting arrested as a stalker. Wouldn’t that look great to NASA.

Right now, though, he couldn’t think about that. He could only think about the look on Mari’s face when she’d made those comments about
not keeping promises
and
not being interested.
He had to talk to her. Just
had
to.

Fortunately, the building was an older one, though it looked well kept and was on a nice, safe-looking street. But there was no real security at the entrance. He got in without any difficulty, made his way up to her door, and knocked.

A few seconds passed. Then a full minute. Silence filled the hall, not a sound came from behind the closed door.

He knocked again. “Mari? It’s Danny, I need to talk to you. Please let me in.” Wondering if it might help, he added, “It’s about work.”

Nada. He didn’t think he’d have heard a mouse stirring.

“Don’t give up, hon, she’s in there,” said a voice thick with that oh-so-distinctive Baltimore accent. Or, in local terminology, Bal’mer.

Turning, Danny saw an older woman watching him from her own doorway next door. He had to wonder if this was the one Mari had called to take care of her cat—the nosy one who would have noticed what time Mari got home that Sunday morning.

“Excuse me?”

“Marissa, I mean. She’s home, I heard her shower running through the walls not twenty minutes ago.”

“Thin walls,” he muttered.

“That’s what Marissa says, every time she complains about me listening to my afternoon stories!” the woman exclaimed, sounding indignant. “I don’t know why she doesn’t like them, that Erica on
All My Children
is a hootenanny and a half. And there’s lots of good romance and stuff on there.” The woman wagged her eyebrows. “She could use some of that.”

He managed to hide a grin. “Thanks.”

“So, anyway, she’s in there,” the woman insisted. “I would have heard her door if she’d left.”

“Oh, okay…”

“So you should knock again.”

Nosy neighbor much?
He suddenly felt for Mari, who was, he suspected standing on the other side of the door, eyeing him through the peephole. She’d probably been trying to avoid him and was now torn between wanting to stay there so he’d go away, or open the door and yank him in just to get him away from her gabby old neighbor.

He could be nice and just leave. But damned if he was going without giving it one more shot.

And there’s still the other little matter to discuss.

Which might not make her happy, either. Especially if she didn’t get over her anger at him.

As if suddenly struck by something—maybe some common sense?—the gabby old woman asked, “Is she expecting you, hon?”

What are you, her doorman?

“Uh, no, I’m surprising her.”

The woman’s mouth pursed, emphasizing the wrinkles around the too-brightly lipsticked lips. Her friendly tone disappeared. “I have a stun-gun. And pepper spray. And I will tase you, bro.”

Mari’s door swung inward, almost violently and she stared at them both, unsurprised by his presence. “I’m here,” she snapped. “Sorry, I was just, uh, drying my hair.”

The neighbor smirked. “I didn’t hear the hair dryer.” Danny had to think about the words, not sure what the woman had said at first, since it had sounded like “heer drar.”

Casting the woman a baleful look, Mari grabbed the front of Danny’s shirt, dragging him in.

Laughter on his lips, he waited for her to close the door, then asked, “Would she really have tased me?”

“I should have let her,” Mari snapped.

Her eyes snapped fire, and her lips were parted as she heaved deep breaths across them. The color was high in her cheeks, her slightly damp hair curling at her nape, and she smelled like sweetly scented soap, all clean and soft and feminine.

She was beautiful. So damned beautiful she took his breath away. And he suspected she didn’t even know it.

Danny swallowed, shoved the instinctive reactions to her away and focused on getting her to listen. She’d let him through the door…but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t shove him back out of it the minute her neighbor disappeared.

Hell, she lived on the third floor. Given her angry expression, he’d be lucky if she decided not to shove him out a window.

“What are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?”

“I got your contact info from the personnel office,” he admitted, knowing how bad that sounded.

“I can’t believe they’d give you that,” she said, sounding slightly stunned.

“Like I said, I need to talk to you about work. Let’s call it official business.”

Mari thrust a hand through her hair and turned away from him, as if needing time to gather her thoughts. Danny took the opportunity to look around her apartment. It was a little messy, a little cluttered. Papers and books were stacked on one cushion of an oversize couch, and a nearby bookshelf groaned under the weight of thick textbooks and bulging three-ring binders. Competing for the space were a few knickknacks—a pair of ceramic kittens, a frame containing a picture of a smiling teenage girl; another with two young men. Her siblings?

A sliding glass door revealed a small patio. It didn’t provide much of a view, but she’d filled it with plants and colorful outdoor furniture. An open laptop sat on a small café table, and he imagined she often worked out there on beautiful days like this one.

He liked getting this glimpse into her home, her life. It said a lot about her—that she wasn’t wound up too tight, that she liked being comfortable, that she was well-read and smart. Of course, that he already knew.

“Okay, so what’s this official business?” she asked. Then she glanced at his clothes. “You’re certainly not dressed for it.”

No, he wasn’t. He’d worn jeans and a T-shirt today, not his uniform. He’d figured there was no point in waving a red flag at a bull. “Look, can I at least sit down? The brass had a suggestion about your lecture series, and I told them I’d talk to you about it.”

Her mouth rounded into an O, and she blinked a few times, as if genuinely surprised. Or maybe—and it could have been wishful thinking on his part—but maybe that had been a flash of disappointment in her expression when she’d realized he really
had
come to talk about work.

Well, at first, anyway. Then he intended to get personal. If she shoved him out the door afterward, well, at least he’d have had his say.

But God, he hoped she didn’t shove him out the door. What he most wanted was another chance with her.

A chance to make her understand why he hadn’t called, to convince her he’d wanted to—desperately—and then to start over. Sounded like a good plan to him.

Not looking particularly gracious about it, she waved him toward a chair, which faced the cluttered sofa. Danny took a seat, then immediately felt something swatting at his pants leg.

Startled, he shifted sideways, and glanced under the chair to see a furry white-and-gray face peering out at him. A plaintive meow criticized him for having moved his leg out of swatting range.

“Well, hello there. Fierce little guard cat, are you?” he said with a soft laugh. “You’re about as welcoming as your owner.”

“Ha ha,” Mari said with a definite eye roll. “She’s not trying to scratch, she’s just trying to get you to play with her.”

As if to prove that point, the cat suddenly nudged her nose against a small foam ball, rolling it toward Danny’s foot, then meowed loudly.

“Catnip?”

Sighing, Mari shook her head. “I think she hung out with the canine crowd when she was at the shelter where I got her, she’s forgotten she’s a cat. That sounded like a meow, but I’m sure in her mind she thinks it’s a woof.”

He raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Deep down Brionne really thinks she’s a dog,” Mari explained. “She wants you to play fetch with her.”

Surprised, and wanting to see for himself, Danny took the ball and gently rolled it across the room. The cat darted out from under the chair in a flash, pouncing on the ball, scooping it up in her mouth and dashing back with it. She dropped it right on Danny’s shoes and looked up at him with an expectant expression…just like a dog.