Not Another Soldier (9 page)

Ugh. I shake my head at myself, cursing the young girl
who fell for such a man. But I didn’t understand that exciting and outgoing
didn’t make a marriage at the time.

My thoughts turn to the man now taking up my couch.
It’s funny because I used to think of Nick as dependable, caring, practical—the
things that
do
make up a marriage—but he excites me too. In a completely
different way to Rob. Rob never made my skin prickle with his mere presence and
he certainly didn’t make my pussy clench by looking at me.

As I watch myself in the mirror, I see a glaze come
over my eyes and I shake it off.

Shoving away from the sink, I change into my
nightwear. A cotton camisole and checkered shorts. It’s not glamorous but it’s
comfy. I gave up on sexy nightwear a long time ago when I realized Rob
preferred the company of other women at night to mine. Coldness clutches at my
chest as feelings of inadequacy eat into me. It didn’t matter that I didn’t
like the man Rob had become
;
no woman wants to be cheated on. Sometimes I laid in
bed at night and wished he’d just come back to me
—
return
to being the man I thought I’d married—as I pictured him with other women.
Christ, why did I spend so long wishing and not taking action?

Drawing in a breath, I open the door. Hopefully Nick’s
all settled and I won’t even have to—

He’s sitting on my bed.

Damn the man. He studies me, slow and languorously,
and I flex my fingers, longing to splay my hands across myself. My simple PJs
now feel sexy and I’m definitely showing off too much skin.

“Can I—” I cough. “Is everything okay?”

Nick nods slowly, his eyes saying everything is more
than okay. My skin heats and I hope he can’t see the redness that’s no doubt in
my cheeks and on my chest.

“Yeah,” he says finally, gaze lingering on my bare
legs. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

Though I don’t sound fine. Having your heart going the
same rate as a freight train or your blood boiling beneath your skin probably
isn’t fine. But that wasn’t what he meant.

He doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s been a crazy day and I am a little shaken but
I’m okay, I swear. I just need some rest and I need to get this place back to
normal and then I’ll be great.”

Nick takes a moment to study me once more and stands.
“All right. Just checkin’.”

“Oh.” I go to my closet. “Here’s some blankets.” I
draw out two old ones that I usually use if the temperature drops and pass them
over.

“Thanks.” He takes them from me.

“Do you need something to sleep in?” I bend down and
rummage through the bottom drawer. “I might have some old T-shirts.” I find one
and come up to standing.

His eyes are wary and he looks tense, like he’s going
to explode at any moment.

Baffled, I thrust out the T-shirt. “It’s one of Rob’s.
I don’t know why I still have them really. Or would it be weird wearing his
stuff?” He doesn’t respond so I hesitate before turning around and chucking the
T-shirt back in the drawer. That was a stupid idea. “Sorry, guess it would be.”

With a wry laugh, he nods. “Yeah, I don’t want to be
wearing his stuff, but I got to tell you, babe, I’m more worried about
your
night clothes.”

“What?”

“If you’re sleeping like that,” he motions with one
hand down me, “then it’s going to make me sleeping there,” now he points to the
couch, “a real trial. ‘Cause when you bend over in those shorts, all I want to
do is take you to bed and peel them from you.”

I slap a hand to my hot cheeks. I feel scalded by his
words and at the same time secretly pleased. I suppose I lost a lot of
confidence when Rob stopped having sex with me. Though I know I’ve got a good a
figure, I think there’s more to being sexy than that. I just don’t feel like I
have that ‘thing’ that makes a person sexy.

But Nick’s words make me think otherwise. And I sure
felt sexy in bed with him yesterday morning. I search for something witty to
say. Something a hot, sensual woman would utter, but nothing comes and I stand
there stupidly gaping.

“Sleep well, short stuff.”

I nod.

“And tomorrow, we’re getting rid of those damned
T-shirts.”

Before I can react, he’s gone and has closed the
bedroom door behind him. I step away from the drawer, kick it shut and sink
onto my bed.

I never considered how Nick felt toward Rob after his
death. I assumed he must have grieved for the guy who was his best friend, but
I’ve seen Nick grieve and I know full well he does it stoically. When he was in
the fire fight that injured his leg, he lost three men. Even then, he remained
so calm and in control.

But that reaction
—
it was
so negative. More like something you’d expect between an ex-boyfriend and a new
boyfriend. Except Nick isn’t my boyfriend and Rob was his best friend. Even if
we have been nursing this attraction for a while—and I don’t even want think
about that—surely that doesn’t change the fact they were close friends? He’s
said stuff that’s hinted at his frustration with Rob but I guess I assumed he
still considered him his friend. God, who knows? I don’t feel like I know
anything right now.

I slide into the sheets and take a sip of water before
placing it back on the side table. I probably shouldn’t pick at it, but it’s
bugging me. How does Nick really feel about Rob? His words before, when he
expressed his disgust about the way Rob treated me… I didn’t even pick up on it
but I’d always believed Nick was kind of blinded to Rob’s behavior like I was
in the beginning.

Guys worshipped Rob and though I knew Nick was too
smart for that, their shared history—growing up as friends—seemed to have
cemented their friendship forever. It always prevented me from telling Nick
absolutely everything. Like how Rob had struck out at me. But maybe Nick saw
most of it anyway. He is a damned clever guy after all.

And I’m an idiot. I smack my pillow and try to get
comfy. I am an idiot. I know I am. I’ve got a hot, amazing guy lying on my
couch and my experience with Rob is holding me back.

Shit. I put an arm over my eyes and will myself to
sleep. I do not need to be thinking about Nick right now. I should be moving
on, getting my place sorted and considering buying a new car. One that hasn’t
been involved in drug trafficking.

I shake my head.
Oh, Rob, what went so wrong with
you?

***

I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I must have since
I was having all sorts of weird dreams about Rob and Nick. Rob was trying to persuade
me to sell drugs for him at the hospital and Nick just got angry about his
T-shirts. And then it got heated. Nick started stripping off my clothes and Rob
said he could have me.

I rub my eyes, my head thick from not enough sleep and
grimace as I sit up and glance at my clock.  I’ve only slept for a few
hours. My skull pounds a little and the need for coffee forces me out of bed
and into the bathroom to change. I choose what to wear carefully, wondering how
Nick will view me in my worn jeans and tank top.

He said he wanted a girl who looked incredible in
scruffy jeans, I remind myself. I push the thought away. So what? I need to
clean up today so it’s not like I can wear my best clothes and they’re hardly
revealing.

I run a brush through my hair and dab on a little
powder, especially under my eyes where the bags are starting to show. Then I do
my mascara, pop on some lip balm and put my hair up into a high ponytail.

I glance in the mirror. Cute, I guess. Nothing to go
crazy over though I do clean up nicely when I put the effort in. I definitely
don’t understand what inspires those looks from Nick though.

Deliberately opening the door slowly, I peer out. He’s
not in the kitchen but it’s early and we had a real late night. I tiptoe into
the living room and see him sprawled across the couch. Smothering a laugh, I
admire him. Yes, I admit it.
Admire
him. One leg is almost on the floor,
the other hangs off the end of the seat. An arm rests across his chest while
the other is above his head. Weirdly his hands attract my attention. I recall
how warm and strong they were when he held my hand. And how rough and sensual
they were against my skin.

His T-shirt rides high, giving me a peek at the taut,
tanned skin below and the line of dark blond hair. Tingles race down to my
fingertips and I have to curl my hand to resist tracing the line. Or maybe even
tasting it.

I step forward and release a screech as a sharp pain
pierces the sole of my foot. Nick is up and has his arms around me within
seconds while I hop up and down.

“What’s wrong?”

“My foot… Shit. Ow. I think I’ve stepped on
something.”

He looks around. “Yeah, probably a piece of your vase.
What were you thinking walking around barefoot?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I forgot, okay?”

With a muttered curse, he scoops me up and sits me on
the couch.

“
You’ve
got bare feet,” I mutter accusingly as
he drops down next to me and coaxes my foot into his lap.

“Well, my feet are a lot tougher than yours.”

I raise an eyebrow at him but he ignores me. Sounds
like some manly rubbish to me. I squeak as he probes my foot. “I bet you’d
scream too.”

His teeth flash and he gives my foot a rub. “No blood.
I think you’ll live.”

“Gee, thanks, Doctor Jackson.”

He stands, steps gingerly over the vase shards and
points at me. “Don’t move. Do you have something you can put on your feet?”

“Yeah, my shoes are in the bottom of my closet.”

He disappears into my bedroom and I take a moment to
study my foot. He’s right. No damage really. It still hurts though. I wrap my
arms around my legs and wait for him to return. I can’t believe I got caught
watching him. Hopefully he didn’t realize I’d been standing there long.

Nick returns holding up a pair of sneakers.

“What? No heels?”

“I was trying to be practical,” he says with a grin as
he hands them to me and I slip them on.

“Well, thanks.”

“Though there’s a hot little red pair I’ve taken a
liking to.”

“Well go ahead, though you might have trouble
squeezing your big feet into them.”

He chuckles. “I meant I’d like to see them on you.”

“Yeah, well those are one of those pairs you buy and
they just sit there and look pretty. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to wear
them.”

“Babe, I’d do anything to give you the chance to wear
them. Your legs in those heels…” He groans and I flush.

The banter is gone again and we’re serious once more.
His gaze is determined and I fidget before getting up from the couch. Does he
say these things on purpose just to rile me or what? I straighten and make for
the refuge of the kitchen. There’s countertops and stuff that will create a
nice, safe barrier between us. Then I won’t have to worry about flinging myself
into his arms.

Sorting out the coffee pot, I call to him as he
strolls in, looking as at home as ever, “You want a bacon sandwich?”

“Do you need to ask?”

I roll my eyes as I pull some bacon from the fridge
and grab a pan. He settles himself at the breakfast bar and I point the pan at
him. “I don’t know how you look like that when you eat so much crap.”

He lifts one shoulder. “Just blessed I guess.”

He’s being modest. He works out like crazy, especially
since the accident. But I don’t need him to know how much I admire him for
getting fit again right now. I’m weak enough around him already.

“Well, why don’t you get your
blessed
body into
the shower while I make breakfast?”

“Do I smell?”

Yes, of sin and everything I’ve ever wanted, I want to
say. How does he smell so delicious still? I sigh and slap my pan on the stove.
“Just get in the shower.”

He chuckles and I wonder if he realizes how much he’s
getting to me, how much he’s wearing me down. I don’t want to be worn down,
honest I don’t. I can’t handle a relationship with a soldier again, let alone
with all the crap that’s going on right now.

I hear the shower turn on and I toss some butter into
the pan and start the bacon. There’s something soothing about doing something
mundane and ignoring the mess that is my apartment. And the fact there is a
ridiculously hot, naked guy in my shower. I slap a palm to my forehead.
Must.
Stop. Thinking like this.

By the time he’s finished, the sandwiches and coffee
are ready, and I’ve swept aside some of the chaos to make room on the breakfast
bar. Nick saunters in, rubbing his hair with one of my hot pink towels. That
draws my attention first. No man should suit hot pink but somehow he does. And
then it’s the fact he’s topless and his sweatpants are riding pretty low. I’m
confronted by bare, slightly sheening, chest.