Model Marine

by Candace Havens

  “Tell Tag I said thanks. And Rafe…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you for calling in the favor and for what you did for the girl last night.”

  “No problem. So are you heading over to Hannah’s?”

  Will was a marine and could go for days without sleep but he was exhausted. “Soon,” he said.

  He lay back against the headboard. Marine or not, he was a chicken. He didn’t want to face the disappointment Hannah must feel about him. She’d been right about everything. And there was no way they would have found Regan so fast if she hadn’t been following her intuition.

  “That’s one hell of a woman you’ve met. You might want to keep her happy,” his father had warned him last night after they found the girl safe. “She has a good head on her shoulders and a successful business. You could do worse.”

  That was as close as his father would get to admitting he approved of Hannah—something he didn’t think would be possible. His mother had also gone on for more than half an hour about how impressed she was that a lovely girl like Hannah could have survived her parents’ obvious dislike of her chosen profession.

  “I don’t like to talk rudely about anyone, but that mother of hers. I mean, it’s hard for me to believe Hannah is related to that woman.”

  She had a point.

  But he’d blown it big-time.

  Running a hand through his hair, he knew he could never go back to sleep. He had to talk to her. To touch her. To smell her. He was off duty for the next twenty-four hours. Once the summit began he didn’t know if he would even have time to see Hannah before he shipped out again. Was he really going to waste time he could spend with her because he was afraid she was mad?

  Thirty minutes later he stood outside her building in an old sweater and jeans. His bomber jacket was covered in snow but he didn’t care. He thought about using the code he’d seen her punch in, but it was early morning and he didn’t want to scare her by just showing up in her penthouse. But before he touched the panel, the door buzzed open.

  After locking the door again he waited as the elevator churned its way to the bottom floor. When the doors opened, Hannah threw herself at him so hard he had to lean against the wall for support.

  “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She wore a hoodie and sweatpants and her hair was a wild nest on top of her head.

  “Why were you worried? You were right about everything.”

  She lifted her head off his chest. “I’m glad, but I also realized you could be right. I worried about your safety.”

  He squeezed her tighter and sniffed her sweet vanilla-and-honeysuckle scent. The warmth of her was something that would never grow old.

  “Trust me, that kid Jeremy was more than happy to turn her over to her father. He had no idea how complicated his life was about to be, but he was a fast learner.”

  “So much for true love. Is Regan okay? She must be crushed.” Hannah stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

  He started to put his lips to hers but stopped. Shifting, he carefully moved away from her.

  “She will be fine. Though, she cried most of the way home. She refused to ride in the car with the ambassador. He’d given her and the boy a hard time. Rafe and I took her in our vehicle and he told her that all men were toads. That she would have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a Prince Charming and that Jeremy was definitely a frog.

  “The tears stopped about halfway home. She asked Rafe if he was a toad and he told her yes. Sometimes he was. Then he made frog sounds and she started laughing. Like I said, she’ll live. I think she might have the beginnings of a crush on him.”

  “You guys seem to have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time.”

  “Not always.” He held her shoulders. “I have to apologize for the way I treated you last night.”

  She pursed her lips. “The way I see it, you were doing your job. You didn’t know she’d confided in me.” After the look she’d given him last night, this was not the response he expected.

  “Yes, but I should have taken you more seriously from the beginning.”

  She tugged on his hand and led him into the elevator. “I’m just glad Regan’s safe. I bet she’s really mad at me right now.”

  He chuckled. “No, you’re in the clear. No one ever said a word about you being the one who spilled the news. She assumed we had been watching her. Evidently, they’d only been in the boy’s apartment ten or fifteen minutes.

  “In fact, she was upset that you’d left by the time she’d returned. She wanted to thank you for the dress and I think talk to you about her boy troubles. I feel sorry for that Jeremy kid. She let him have it for not standing up for her. I’ve spent the last three days looking after that family and I’ve never seen her go off like that.”

  “She’s a punk girl hiding behind a preppy facade. She was bound to jump out of that shell at some point,” Hannah said as the doors opened.

  Will followed her into the apartment. “There’s something else.”

  Hannah sat on the couch and motioned for him to sit down. That’s when he noticed the shadows around her eyes.

  “Hey, did you get any rest? Come to think of it, how did you know I was downstairs?”

  She crossed her legs and put a pillow in her lap. “I’ve been on a creative binge. Desk’s by the window and I saw you. What’s the other news?”

  “They found your clothes.”

  She jumped up suddenly, sending the pillow to the coffee table and knocking the wineglass that had been there onto the floor. A maroon stain spread across the white rug, but she didn’t seem to care.

  Will sprinted to the kitchen in search of some towels or a cloth but only found a roll of paper towels. He quickly blotted the spot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You spilled your wine. It’ll stain your rug.”

  She took the towels away from him. “It’s okay. Don’t bother.”

  He didn’t understand how she could stand to let the stain spread and his look must have said it.

  “Okay, okay. I’m blotting, Mr. Neat-nick. Now tell me who stole my clothes.”

  “Technically, I shouldn’t as it is a pending case but it was as we suspected—the Hags.”

  Hannah sat back on her knees. “I don’t believe it. Those bitches.”

  It was the first time he’d heard her use language like that and it was kind of cute.

  “They’ve all confessed and it looks like they’re involved in some messy international trade issues. They may be spending a long time in jail.” He frowned. “The catch is, the clothes are in evidence. They have to keep them for forty-eight hours.”

  Her smile had enough wattage to light the room. “I’ll have them in time for the show.” She pumped a fist. “We would have had the new ones made by then, but now we can focus more on the new designs. What a relief. Anne Marie and Jesse are going to be so happy.”

  Will watched as she blotted the carpet. The stain would take some heavy-duty cleaner. He would find her some later in the day.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  “Hannah?”

  He drew her up off the floor with the paper towels still in her hand. “Hey, why are you upset?”

  A tear fell to her cheek. “A lot’s happened in the last few hours. That’s all.”

  “There’s more to it than that. Tell me, please.”

  Using the heel of her hand she shoved the tear away. “No. That’s all.”

  Whatever it was, she didn’t want him to push. “You’re exhausted.” He guided her from the living room to the bedroom, tossing the dirty paper towels into the trash bin. Neither of them had slept much. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  “Can you stay?” she asked as she climbed into the bed fully clothed.

  He pulled the comforter up to her chin and walked to the other side. “Yes.” He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he shifted her so that her head
was on his chest. “We should—”

  He squeezed her tight. “We will. Later.”

  She yawned and snuggled against him. His body had an instant reaction but he shifted so she wouldn’t feel it.

  Before drifting off to sleep Will understood something that should have shaken him to his core, but it didn’t.

  He loved Hannah.

  18

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Hannah stood near the curtain that hid her bed from the rest of the loft. The news was on the television, but the sound was so low she couldn’t hear it. Will was on his hands and knees doing something to her carpet.

  “I bought some rug cleaner and I almost have the stain out.” He didn’t look up. The muscles under his T-shirt bulged and Hannah’s breath caught.

  “Coffee is made and I picked up gluten-free chocolate croissants for you. Anne Marie told me they were your favorite.”

  Her hand flew to her hair. “It’s so late. I’ve missed the buyer appointments this morning.”

  “Calm down. Everything’s been rescheduled because of the weather. Seems New Yorkers don’t like walking in the snow. Can’t say I blame them. I’m used to the desert heat myself. Oh, also I reorganized your linen closet and cleaned your kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Mind? “You don’t need to do this. I have a woman who comes in once a week. She’ll take care of it.”

  “You have a maid? But you live by yourself.”

  “Will, you really are OCD, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, that is one of my many freak flags as you like to call them. The doc says it’s my need to control the environment around me. And honestly, I like to clean. I like things tidy. I always have. Probably has something to do with growing up in the military.”

  Controlling his environment. Hannah could see why he would need to do that. When he and his men went out on their missions, there was only so much they could control.

  The visual pictures from Private Scott’s comments flashed through her mind. She forced herself to take a good hard look at Will and she recognized what an inspiring human being he was. And he cared about her.

  Of course, she couldn’t say any of that to him then. They’d just got back on an even keel—last thing she wanted to do was rock the boat. They had such little time left together.

  “Well, I’m not going to stop you, if you actually enjoy it. I wish I were the same way. You should know that one of my freak flags, in addition to being a flighty flake, is that I’m kind of a slob. I’ve been known to leave my clothes on the floor for a couple of days when I’m really busy.”

  “Why do you call yourself a flake?” She noticed he didn’t mention anything about her being a slob. The dishes she’d dirtied the night before were gone and her pad, pencils and sketch paper were neatly stacked on the bar.

  “Um, I am. I have a tendency to go off on the creative binges and I forget normal daily-life things. Half the time I don’t notice the messes I create. If it weren’t for Anne Marie tracking my every move, I’d forget appointments and goodness knows what else. Even with her doing it, I still miss stuff from time to time. And I’m habitually late. I’m trying to change, though.”

  Will walked into the kitchen and put away the cleaning supplies. Then he washed his hands. “You’re a creative person. I thought artsy people didn’t really believe in time.”

  Hannah sat down on one of the bar stools and grabbed a napkin and croissant from the bag there. “Two months ago, I would have agreed with you. But I think it’s more about immaturity and a need for control with me, too.”

  He opened her fridge and took out the few condiments, milk and coffee she kept in there. She noticed he’d also bought some deli meats and cheese. Poor guy probably couldn’t find anything to eat that morning. What must he think of her?

  “In what way is it about control?” He dampened a cloth and started wiping the inside of the fridge.

  She stifled a chuckle. Now he was cleaning her fridge and she didn’t even think he was aware of how weird it was. The poor guy had been through enough crap. If cleaning a fridge made him feel good, who was she to argue?

  “Being late is about making people think that my time is more important than theirs. It’s rude, really. I’m sure many people aren’t punctual all the time, but it’s a real problem with my mother and her crowd. They are all about being fashionably late. I say I’m trying to get better, but then I showed up almost an hour late for the party Leland threw me the other night.”

  “Yes, but you were working. You’d just finished with the press when you had to wait for me to change clothes. That’s not the same thing.”

  “Don’t encourage me, Will. I’m really bad about it. The other day with your dad was the first time I’d been on time for an appointment in years.”

  “Really? So why then?”

  Hannah had to think about that. She didn’t have much time to get ready that morning. In fact, she’d set a personal record. “It was for you.”

  Will stopped his cleaning parade in her fridge. Turning, he gave her the strangest look.

  “What did I say?”

  “It’s sweet that you did that just for me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I hear it’s really hard to break bad habits. By the way, are you going to clean all day, or do you have time to kiss me?”

  “Oh, I always have time for that.” He tossed the rag on the counter, then leaned across the bar to kiss her. His lips were soft against hers.

  “I want more,” she whispered.

  He broke contact and the next thing she knew he was around the bar, pushing her thighs apart and pressing himself into her. “Like this?” He trailed kisses down her neck.

  “Yes,” she encouraged him.

  His fingers followed the path of his lips. Lifting her shirt over her head, he suckled her nipples.

  “Ummmmm. Yes.” Grabbing his head, she nestled him between her breasts.

  His hand found her heat, through the thin silk panties she wore. She was glad she’d changed into the long T-shirt earlier.

  When his two fingers plunged into her, she gasped. Bucking against his hand she begged him not to stop. As he pumped her, Will drew her nipple into his mouth. The roughness was her undoing.

  “Ooh.” She screamed and her body started to orgasm.

  He shoved the panties aside and plunged himself inside her. “Harder,” she begged. Pounding so hard he moved the bar stool, he put his hands on each side of the chair to hold it down. Hannah scooted to the edge so he could plunge his shaft farther into her.

  “Ride me, baby,” Will grunted. She met every thrust.

  Their pace was edging toward her breaking point. She locked her gaze with his. The passion and ecstasy there threw her into the best orgasm of her life. He wanted her. Crazy Hannah. He didn’t care about her hang-ups. Or that she was a flake.

  “Hannah,” he whispered against her lips as he continued to move faster and faster inside her.

  “Me, too,” she said. Biting his lip softly she ran her tongue against it.

  “Hannah,” Will moaned again as he emptied himself inside her.

  Body shaking, she hugged him to her.

  Her Will.

  She might have to say goodbye soon, but she was never going to let him go.

  SOMETHING SUBTLE had shifted in Will’s relationship with Hannah. It happened while he made love to her in the kitchen. He saw it in her eyes. She’d cared about him before, but it was more now. Could she love him? They hadn’t known each other long, but he’d loved her from the moment they met. He knew that now—corny love-at-first sight and all.

  But it didn’t feel corny with Hannah. This thing between them was deep and real, and they both understood the stakes were higher now. It was obvious neither of them was ready to say the words out loud, but it was there.

  He loved her. He would do anything for her, including changing the life plan that had been so carefully set before him. His father might never speak to him
again. His mother’s heart would break. But for once, Will wanted to plot his own path. Be his own man. Allow himself to do what he wanted.

  He’d forced Hannah to go downstairs to her studio and catch up with Anne Marie, who’d called several times that morning. He knew why Hannah was hesitant to leave. He’d promised he’d be there when she was done.

  He sat on the couch and turned up the television.

  What the hell did he want to do with his life?

  Could he really leave his men behind? Hell.

  That was the kicker. He would always be a marine through and through. Maybe his father had pushed, but Will had loved the life—at least until the past two tours. Losing good men always ate at his soul, but it was more than that. Had he lost the edge that made him a good marine? He liked to think he could make the tough decisions, but he didn’t know anymore. And he dreaded the next tour.

  His men deserved more. But giving up the corps?

  The very idea turned Will’s stomach.

  Hannah needed him, too. She didn’t realize how much, but she would. Her life was about to take off in ways she hadn’t imagined yet. When he’d been downstairs earlier Anne Marie had showed him all the newspaper articles and features. Hannah was on her way to great things. But she would need to be surrounded by people who cared about her, who loved her. And no one loved her more than he did.

  For the first time ever, his life was a mess. The plan didn’t seem so clear now.

  So what the hell are you going to do about it?

  19

  HANNAH JUMPED IN the cab with Anne Marie. It was her friend’s first trip to London and she had been talking nonstop about it. As they neared LaGuardia, Hannah had to squeeze her eyes tight to keep from crying. This should be one of the happiest times of her life. Her first London show was several days away. There were hundreds of designers who would kill to be where she was.

  I am grateful. She said the mantra over and over.

  And she was.

  Except for one thing. She didn’t get to say goodbye to Will.

  Filling her lungs, she took a deep, cleansing breath.

  “Are you excited, too?” Anne Marie asked.