Terms of Surrender (7 page)

“So, Doctor, I’ve been having this pain…”

“I’m not an M.D.” She laughed. “I couldn’t even prescribe you an aspirin.”

“Still, I’d be using that ‘Doctor’ all over the place if I had the right to.”

She couldn’t prevent a tiny smile. Because, yeah, she did like hearing it once in a while. She’d sure worked hard enough to earn it. “My best friend says I kept going to school just to avoid having to be responsible for anything else.”

“Else?”

Wishing she hadn’t brought it up, she skimmed over her family history, not giving in to old habits by sharing what lousy parents she’d been born to. That was just too depressing. But she did have to mention the breakup…and, as lightly as she could, her mother’s abandonment. What an upbeat first date she was!

“So, family responsibilities, school for almost a decade. No time for fun?” he asked, skimming over her past as if realizing she didn’t want to say any more about it.

“Define
fun.
”

“Dating?”

“I don’t usually call dating fun.”

“Oooh, that sounds pessimistic.”

“Pragmatic. The last guy I dated couldn’t handle being with a woman with my I.Q.”

“You have a pretty high I.Q., huh?”

“Not especially, but
he
couldn’t even spell it!” She waved away any more questions, rolling her eyes. “I was stupid and lonely, so I broke my own number one dating rule.”

“Which is?”

“I never go out with soldiers.”

“Smart thinking,” he said with an exaggerated shudder. “So, how about sex?”

Sure.
The word came to her tongue but didn’t fall off it.

“That’s fun,” she slowly replied. “At least, if I’m remembering correctly.”

His eyes darkened the tiniest bit, and his smile thinned, as if he regretted getting them into this intimate a conversation. But he didn’t immediately back them out of it.

“Yeah, so I hear.”

“Don’t tell me
your
memory’s fuzzy.”

“Probably more so than you’d imagine.”

Hmm.

“But from what I remember, oh, yeah, I’d call it fun. Especially when it lasts for hours and you aren’t sure whether you’re alive or dead because it doesn’t seem possible that anything can feel so damn good,” he said, his voice unwavering. But it wasn’t throaty or seductive; he merely sounded very sure of what he was saying.

She breathed deeply, in and out, willing her heart to stop racing. Then she finally nodded. “Interesting,” she murmured, hearing the weakness of her voice.

So interesting her thighs were locking together reflexively under the table. Good thing she’d put those panties back on. Otherwise she suspected the seam of her new slacks would be damp right now. Heaven knew her panties were.

“So should we talk about how much you can have fun at theme parks now?” he asked, those amber eyes twinkling.

She slowly shook her head.

“What
do
you want to do?”

She could tell the truth, just throw it out there on the table and see how he responded. They were waltzing around the subject like a couple on
Dancing with the Stars.

Besides, she’d already made the first move once today by asking him out. Why shouldn’t she take another shot?

Because asking somebody to lunch is a little different than asking him to rock your world and give you many, many orgasms.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, reaching for her water.

“Oh,” he said knowingly.

She swallowed, then eyed him over the glass. “Oh, what?”

“Oh. Now we both have sex on the brain. I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking about nothing else but kissing you for hours, I guess I should’ve stuck with that.”

His voice was silky smooth, intimate. There was warmth in his eyes, but no humor. As if he, too, was ready to move past the light, friendly conversation they’d engaged in throughout lunch and get a whole lot more serious pretty damn quick.

“Kissing?” she murmured, fascinated by the idea.

He nodded once. Then, wordlessly, he leaned across the small table, touching his fingers to her chin to tilt her face up. The briefest of hesitations—to give her a chance to back away—then he moved his mouth to hers.

Mari’s heart flipped in her chest, she was aware of that much. Then
nothing,
except the feel of his warm lips against hers, the warmth of his breath flavored with the sweetness and lemon he’d had in his iced tea. It was soft, tender maybe a little tentative as they both acknowledged the importance of this moment.

A first kiss was a critical thing. It set a tone, lifted a bar. Mari had walked away from good-looking men who didn’t know how to kiss.

This man did. Oh, God, did he ever.

Not forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue down her throat, he instead nibbled lightly, seemed content with just the joining of their lips. A slow build. It was a quiet kiss…sexy in its very patience and innocence.

Frankly, it drove her crazy. Mari wanted more, so much more. Groaning, she parted her lips, sliding her tongue out to taste his, not giving a damn about where they were or who might see. She just needed more of him.

He gave her more, sliding his hand up to cup her cheek, tangling his fingers in her hair, tilting his head to deepen things. And then, he cooled down, going back to sweet and light, until he finally lifted his mouth from hers and pulled away.

She heard her choppy breaths, and his, and knew he had been every bit as affected.

It had been a good first kiss. A very good start to
whatever
this was. “I want to go on your boat with you,” she admitted. “To…see the sunset.”

“We
can
just watch the sunset,” he said, his voice low and tight, as if the idea pained him. “No other expectations.”

“I know.” Then, emboldened by the need still swirling through her after that kiss, she added, “Or we can kiss again.”

He smiled. “That sounds like…fun.”

Remembering what they’d been saying before that kiss—about how to have fun—she smiled back. “Yes, it does.”

Their stares met and held, both of them knowing what they were really talking about. “You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. So sure I don’t even mind too much if you think I’m easy.”

He reached across the table, taking her hand, squeezing lightly. “I don’t. Because, for the record, I’m feeling exactly the same way and I know I’m not easy.”

That pleased her. She hoped what was happening between them was as unique for him as it was for her.

“Okay then. Let’s get outta here.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet.

She immediately shook her head. “Not only am I not easy, I’m not a welcher. It’s on me, remember?”

Ooh. Shouldn’t have thought about anything being on her. Because that made her think of all the other things she’d like on her. Well, one other thing. Him.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

She liked that he didn’t make an issue of it. She would have been disappointed if he’d gotten all he-man instead of letting her do what she’d wanted to do—repay him for helping her with her car.

It simply reinforced what she already suspected about Danny. He was extremely confident in his own masculinity, not the type to feel threatened by something like a woman making the first move or buying him a cheeseburger.

Oh, how she liked him. And she suspected that, by the end of the night, she would like him a whole lot more.

4

Saturday, 5/7/10, 05:25 p.m.
www.mad-mari.com/2011/05/07/quickone
Comment #74

Okay, one last comment for the day, then I’m turning this phone off and not checking in again. Just wanted you all to know that tomorrow’s Sunday Sinner post might be a little late.

I also might have a whole lot of inspiration for writing it.

At least, if I’m lucky.;-)

See ya!

BEING IN THE NAVY, USED to being moved around and living all over the world, Danny had never bought a house of his own. He either lived on base, or sometimes off base in an apartment. He’d invested in only two things of substance—both of which were mobile. One was, of course, his classic car, which he, with the help of his dad and brothers, had spent a full year restoring.

The other was
Jazzie Girl,
his 27-foot cruiser, which he kept at one of the local marinas. Simple, yet graceful with her 40-foot mast, she was his escape clause when he wanted water instead of air. Flying was his first choice, always, but sometimes he just liked hoisting the sails and exploring the Chesapeake.

He saw by the look on Mari’s face as they pulled into the marina that she liked the water. He had the feeling she would especially like it on a breezy afternoon like this one, when they’d skim over the bay like a stone skipped on a flat pond.

“These are beautiful,” she said, staring from vessel to vessel, many of which were much larger—and far more grand—than his. The late afternoon sun sent gleams of gold over the beautifully curved structures which danced on the water. “I’m so excited, I’ve never been sailing.”

Surprised, he asked, “Seriously? Where do you live?” It was something they hadn’t even gotten around to discussing. God did he hoped she didn’t say Kansas or Buffalo or anywhere far away.

“Near the harbor in Baltimore,” she admitted with a self-deprecating shrug, obviously realizing this entire area was a boating mecca. “I’ve just never known anyone who had a boat. Remember, I was an army brat, not a navy one.”

“Well, let’s find out if you have sea legs. There she is,” he said, pointing toward his slip.

They walked closer and she murmured, “
Jazzie Girl?
”

He groaned a little. “My sister harassed me into it. She said since I didn’t name my firstborn after her, she should at least get the boat.”

Mari started, glancing at him with a raised brow. Knowing what she thought, he quickly raised a hand, palm out. “I meant my car. I definitely don’t have any rug rats out there.”

Nodding, a slight smile on her beautiful, sweet-tasting lips, she said, “Not one of those sailors with a different family in every port, then?”

“Definitely not.”

Helping her on board, he got busy preparing for their trip.

“Need help?” she asked as he began rigging the main sail.

“Nah, it’s routine. Why don’t you go down to the galley and put the food in the cooler?” They’d stopped on the way over and picked up a bottle of wine, as well as some fruit and cheese.

“Good idea. Then I can be on the lookout for hatchets or sharp knives while I’m alone down there.”

He gawked.

Chuckling, she said, “Haven’t you ever seen
Dead Calm?
”

Vaguely remembering the thriller, about a psycho killing people on a boat, he replied, “Don’t worry, no hatchets, no knives—except plastic ones, which should be okay for the food.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, then went down to the galley, walking carefully on her high heels. He’d thought about suggesting she take them off when they got onboard, but had held his tongue. He was still intrigued by the idea of her sexy feet and looked forward to pulling those shoes off the way he usually looked forward to unbuttoning a woman’s blouse.

“You are losing it,” he told himself, wondering why he found every inch of her so alluring. Maybe it was that serendipity thing. Fate. Maybe it was just hormones. Could be just because she was beautiful and ballsy and smart.

Or it could have been that kiss.

Oh, that kiss. He
still
tasted her on his tongue, an hour later, and could only imagine how the rest of her would taste. He imagined it so much he almost forgot to open the seacock.

“Ready?” she asked as she came up on deck, joining him at the stern a short time later.

He nodded, gesturing to one of the built-in seats. “Better sit down until you get your sea legs. It’s pretty breezy—we might hit some chop.”

She did as he suggested, perching on the edge of the chair, almost bouncing in excitement as they left the marina and headed south. As he’d expected, the waves were high, but she didn’t seem to mind. As if she’d done this a thousand times, she kept her body loose, letting herself roll with the sway of the craft, moving with it instead of against it. Like a born sailor.

Having explored the area many times, Danny headed for an inlet that would offer them some calmer water. They could anchor and watch the sunset there without too much worry about drift. He wanted to be able to share the moment with her, to keep his hands and his mind free to enjoy their time together.

Thinking about that, he suddenly realized something. She was the first woman, other than his sister, who’d ever set foot on his boat. His mom hated the water—at least, she had since Danny had told her he was enlisting in the navy. The other women he’d dated just hadn’t ended up here for one reason or another.

“I love this,” Mari said, starting to rise from her seat.

“Hold on,” he told her. Unable to resist, he bent down and reached for the back of one of her shoes. “You really shouldn’t be up on these.”

Without a word, she leaned back in the chair, lifting one long leg toward him. He slid the shoe off, slowly, noting the high arch, the delicate bones, the pretty pink-tipped toes.

“Okay,” he admitted, “they’re pretty spectacular feet.”

“See? I told you.”

He gently lowered her leg, lightly stroking her heel and ankle. Mari shivered, though whether that was from the breeze or the touch, he didn’t know. Then she lifted her other leg and he repeated the process, wondering how she’d react if he pressed his mouth to that high arch and then kissed his way upward. Of course, her pants would get in the way. It would help if she were still wearing that skirt…and what she’d had on under that skirt earlier. Oh, yeah, that would definitely help.

Forcing himself to let go, he returned his focus to sailing. It wasn’t the kind of clear, smooth day where he could allow himself a brief distraction. Fortunately, they were close to the inlet, and as he eased
Jazzie Girl
into it, he noted theirs was the only craft in sight. That was one thing he liked about this site—nobody else seemed to have stumbled across it.

“Pretty,” Mari said as she stood beside him, holding the rail and peering at the tree-studded shoreline nearby. Then she looked toward the western sky. “Oh, wow. What a sunset!”

“Give me a minute and we’ll go out on the bow. It should be calm enough to sit out there.”

She pointed toward the front of
Jazzie Girl.
“The bow—that’s the front, right?”

“Right.”

It took a few minutes, but once he’d lowered the anchor and confirmed the steadiness of the deck, he finally nodded and gave his full, undivided attention to his passenger. She hadn’t gone out to the bow. Instead she’d gone down into the galley and reappeared on deck a few minutes later with the bottle of wine—now open—and two glasses. “Thirsty?”

“Half a glass,” he told her. “I don’t drink and sail.”

She nodded, pouring two small glasses of ruby-red wine, then handing one to him. Danny took it, sipped once, watching her do the same. Mari sighed deeply, her lips drenched red, then turned again toward the sun sinking low in the western sky. The breeze kicked up, whipping her clothes audibly against her body, and she shivered.

Danny stepped closer, for warmth. “You okay?”

“Better than,” she told him, sounding fully in tune with the moment—the sensations of warmth and chill brushing her skin, the roll of the deck beneath her feet, the faint rasp of the leaves rustling on the nearest trees.

Mari, he suddenly realized, was a woman who truly savored every sight, sound, taste and touch. He had absolutely no doubt she’d be an incredibly sensual lover, and he swallowed, hard, wanting her so badly he could taste it.

The wind picked up a strand of her soft hair and blew it across his cheek. Danny inhaled the sweet, flowery smell of her shampoo blended with the warm, sultry scent of woman and had to grip the railing even tighter.

She didn’t seem to notice, moving even closer beside him and covering his hand with hers, squeezing as the sun dropped a bit farther. “There it goes.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he acknoweldged through a nearly closed throat.

“It’s as if the last drops of sunlight are falling like a slow rain shower,” she mused, her deep, even breaths telling him how much she was enjoying the salty air. “I’d like to stand here naked and let it drench me.”

Shit. It was a wonder the railing didn’t snap…or that his fingers didn’t.

Between one breath and the next, the enormous orb disappeared, pulling with it the long streams of gold that had been strewn across the water. They were left staring at a sky streaked with purple and gold, an endless watercolor painting.

He glanced at Mari, and she turned at the same moment, her smile joyful, her eyes gleaming. “That was the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen,” she said, sounding delighted.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Gorgeous.”

She must have seen something in his own stare, or heard it in his voice. It was something he’d been trying to hide, to control, because her own smile faded and her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. She dropped her gaze to his mouth, then licked her lips in an unintended invitation.

That was all he’d been waiting for. Danny slid his hands into her hair and cupped her head, pulling her toward him so he could claim her mouth. She didn’t hesitate, melting into his body, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their mouths came together, hot, deep and crazy…nothing like the kiss in the restaurant earlier. It was as if everything they’d both been thinking, feeling, since the minute they’d met all those hours ago had finally fallen away and they were right back to the start, dealing with that electric, instant attraction.

“God, I want you,” he muttered, then he went back to tasting every corner of her mouth.

She writhed against him, her hips glued to his, her warm, full breasts tantalizing him through their clothes. Their tongues mated in a frenzy; he wanted to taste every bit of her. Memorize the cheeks and the teeth and never—ever—forget the way she tasted. Like wine and woman and sunshine and the sea.

They didn’t say it, didn’t speak it. She merely reached for his shirt and tugged it free from his pants, then slipped her cool hands against his bare stomach. He hissed against her mouth, not because they were cold, but because her touch burned him right to his core.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked, not really wanting to but not wanting her to get too cold, either.

“No,” she mumbled against his mouth. “It’s too small. Too closed-in.” She pulled away from him enough to tug at her own shirt. “I want you here. Now.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the condom he’d stuck there earlier—just in case.

Spying it, she smiled. “I got some while I was shopping.”

“Smart minds.”

“Uh-huh.”

Then there were no more words to say. He brushed her shaking hands away from her shirt and pulled it free of her waistband, tugging it straight up and off her. Danny felt his pulse ratchet up at the sight of her, clad in a lacy bra that didn’t do much to conceal the jutting tips of her breasts. Unable to wait, he bent down and covered one with his mouth, tasting her through the fabric, letting her feel the warmth of his breath.

Mari nearly went out of her head, loving the heat as he began to suck her nipple. It was indescribably good—her breasts were very sensitive, anyway, and the layer of lace added to the sensation. “Oh, yes,” she muttered, tightening her fingers in his golden-brown hair, liking the texture of it against her skin. Actually, there wasn’t anything about him she didn’t like against her skin.