Falling for the Marine (A McCade Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen)

by Samanthe Beck

  “There is one tiny string attached.” He looked up at her from beneath his dark, unfairly thick lashes. Then he opened his fist to reveal a small, black velvet box. A flick of his fingers snapped the lid back and a diamond solitaire she estimated somewhere north of a carat twinkled at her.

  Her hand flew to her heart at the same time her gaze flew to his. “That’s a tiny string?”

  The smile tugging his lips broadened, but he still didn’t look harmless. “My CO disapproves of cohabitating. He’s got the final authority over my return to the cockpit, so I’d rather not do anything he disapproves of. I think if we”—he broke off and looked at her with those deep, dark, mesmerizing eyes—went the engagement route, it might mitigate any potential negative consequences.”

  “You want us to pretend—”

  “Appearances only,” he inserted quickly. “I doubt we’ll have to out-and-out lie to anyone, but Mrs. Waverly is eagle-eyed and she’s also my CO’s wife’s best friend. We’ll just put my grandmother’s ring on your finger, move you in, and then, when you get your new assignment, I’ll take the ring back and we’ll go our separate ways. If anyone asks what happened, I’ll say things just didn’t work out.”

  No. No. Hell to the No. Just the thought of putting the ring on her finger made her palms sweat. “I can’t. Me staying here is a bad idea if it puts your career at risk and forces you to lie.”

  He looked down at the ring and then back up at her, and his pensive expression made her realize he was debating telling her something. She had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

  “I didn’t want to mention this, because it’s my problem, not yours, but I could end up in serious trouble for what happened yesterday at the clinic. The Corps frowns on its members committing acts of indecency or indecorum. If Sempler lodges a complaint, my CO will have to address it.”

  Shit. She’d been so selfishly fixated on her own problems she hadn’t spared a thought about how yesterday’s recklessness might impact Michael. “H-how serious?” But she already knew.

  “Conduct unbecoming an officer could get me dismissed, and possibly thrown in the brig.”

  “Oh, my God.” Her stomach turned to lead and dropped into her feet. “You could get dishonorably discharged and locked up because of this?”

  “It’s an unlikely outcome…but the possibility exists. Right now, if Sempler tells my CO he walked into a treatment room and found USMC Major Michael McCade committing an indecent act with his massage therapist, it sounds pretty bad. The whole situation takes on a slightly different character if he walked into a treatment room and found me engaged in what I didn’t intend to be a public display of affection with my fiancée.”

  “I see your point, but it’s still dishonest. Your grandmother would be rolling in her grave.”

  “We’re not hurting anyone by massaging the truth, and my grandmother would understand. When I was about five, I took this ring from her jewelry box and I buried it in the backyard because I was pretending to be a pirate. When she discovered what I’d done, she calmly helped me dig it up and gave me a bunch of coins to bury instead. I complained the coins weren’t as good a treasure because they weren’t sparkly like the ring. She laughed and told me I could have the ring when she was done with it, and, at that point, I could bury it if I wanted. A few years ago…” He trailed off and swallowed. “A few years ago she was done with it.” He swiped his thumb lightly over the flat facet at the top of the diamond. “True to her word, she left the ring to me. I figure as long as I don’t bury the thing, I’m exceeding her expectations.”

  Now she was choked up, a little because a girl who owed so much to her own grandma couldn’t help but be affected by the obvious affection between Michael and his. But more because both grandmother and grandson measured the value of the treasure in terms of the memories it held than the intrinsic worth of the precious materials.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and wished she either had a completely clear head or a much worse hangover. Instead she just felt slow and fuzzy…and freezing. Despite the heat coming off his body, her skin chilled. Nerves. The idea of a commitment—even a fake one—left her bone cold. But her alternatives sucked.

  Her parents had reclaimed their own lives the moment they’d divorced and dumped her on Grandma. She wasn’t about to ask them for any favors. Her friendships were loose and casual. After a year of traveling from job to job, they were all pretty much Facebook friends—“like” a photo, comment on a status—not the kind of people she could call out of the blue and say, “Hey, can I come stay with you for who knows how long, and, by the way, can you lend me the money to get there?” Thanks to Drew, no credit-card company would touch her with a ten-foot pole.

  Even if she could scrape together an alternative, could she really leave Michael twisting in the wind, when something as simple as pretending to be engaged for a couple weeks could protect his career?

  She dropped her arms and sat a little straighter. No, she couldn’t. Being a free bird didn’t mean flying off and leaving a stand-up guy in a precarious position. A short-term fake engagement was a solution to a problem, not an emotional investment or a threat to her freedom. Granted, it might have been a risky proposition for commitment-craving Chloe, but older, wiser Chloe had learned how to glide through life without getting ensnared in emotional traps.

  “What do you say, Chloe?” Michael prompted. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever asked to wear my ring. Don’t start me off with a bad track record.” His grin left her a little off-center. She looked down at herself, then back at him.

  “I wish I didn’t feel so naked at the moment.”

  He slipped the ring on her shaking finger. “There. Now you’re not naked.”

  “Perfect fit,” she whispered. It was. A shiver scurried up her spine. The sparkling traditional solitaire looked and felt more at home on her finger than her actual engagement ring ever had during the entire time she’d worn the thing.

  “My grandmother had slim, gentle hands, like you. It looks good on you,” he finished softly, almost reluctantly, and Chloe relaxed a bit. He wasn’t as unfazed about their “engagement” as he seemed. Why that realization made her feel better, she couldn’t say, but there it was.

  “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it, and, rest assured, you’ll get it back in the same beautiful condition. I promise.”

  His grin reappeared. “I’m not worried.” Then he stood, and the play of sinew and muscle under flesh momentarily emptied her mind. “Now that we’re officially engaged, wanna move in with me?”

  “I—um, yes, I guess I do.”

  “Awesome.” He sat down next to her on the bed and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It read 6:58.

  “I have to be at the base by eight,” he said, “which means I need to hit the shower and get going, but I’ll be back by four-thirty, so if there’s anything you need help moving, just leave it until I’m home, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he repeated, but he didn’t move. He just stared at her.

  She stared back. “You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. It’s the least I can do.”

  Tiny flecks of gold glowed near the perimeter of his deep brown irises. How had she overlooked such a hypnotic detail? “Well…thank you.” Don’t kiss him, her little voice warned, but her body didn’t listen. It leaned in until her lips brushed his and her breasts rested against his chest.

  A wide palm cupped the back of her head and he deepened the kiss. Her hands landed on the steady shelf of his shoulders and her happy nipples tightened to eager peaks. She shifted closer and rubbed them over his pecs.

  His low, rumbling growl cut through the otherwise-silent room. She trembled as his hand wandered down her back and over her butt, and tucked one knee under her, preparing to crawl onto his lap when the alarm buzzed. They broke apart, both breathing heavy, and then spoke at once.

  “Shit—�
�

  “You’re going to be late—”

  He reached over and hit the alarm. She scooped the T-shirt she’d borrowed off the floor, turned it right side out, and pulled it on. By the time she’d swept it over her head, he was out of the bed. “I wish I could top off my proposal with breakfast, but I’ve got to shower and get going. Do you need to use the bathroom first?”

  She stood, surprised by her wobbly legs, and walked over to stand opposite him. “No. I’m good. You go ahead.” His shoulders seemed to take up all the space in the bedroom doorway. “Is it all right if I use your phone to call my recruiter?”

  “Chloe.”

  “What?”

  “Mi casa es su casa.” He turned and then shot a grin over his shoulder before he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

  The breath left her lungs in a shuddery exhale. “Right.” She made her way out to the main part of the apartment. Heavens, the extreme tidiness of the bedroom carried over into the rest of the rooms. Clean surfaces, clean walls, no clutter. Someone would be getting his entire security deposit back at the end of his tenancy.

  The phone sat on the counter between the kitchen and dining area, just as it did in her apartment. She perched on one of the two high stools tucked under the counter, lifted the receiver, and dialed.

  Lynne answered on the first ring. “Helping Hands, how can I help you?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Oh. My. God. Chloe! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. In another couple hours I was going to file a missing-person report on you.”

  Shit. Guilt landed on her like a scratchy blanket. “I’m so sorry, Lynne. I didn’t mean to put you in a panic. After the debacle with Sempler, I couldn’t face you or myself…or anything more judgmental than a pitcher of margaritas, so I just kind of dove into one for the night.”

  “Sweetie, I don’t judge. But I do worry.”

  “I know. On top of being a lousy employee, I’m a horrible friend. I should have called you. I didn’t think of anyone except myself and how I could possibly erase the whole humiliating incident from my mind.”

  “You’re not a horrible friend. You just tend to forget there are people around who care about you. Did it work?”

  “Did what work?”

  “The margarita strategy.”

  “For a little while, yeah, but ultimately, no. Tell me, am I still employable through Helping Hands?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really? I can’t believe Sempler’s not going to demand my head on a platter.” Her voice cracked and she winced. But still, it was too good to be true. The guy loved to complain and, God knew, she’d given him a legitimate and grievous complaint.

  “Not after I questioned why you were still in the clinic at five thirty—a full half an hour past your scheduled shift end. That’s when he mentioned maybe he hadn’t been on site precisely at the end of your shift to sign off on your time card, and I mentioned if your time card came back to us with anything less than a five thirty end time, that would be fraud. I went on to mention if I spoke to you and discovered any of your prior time cards reflected inaccurate shift end times, that would also be fraud, and the clinic would ultimately be liable to Helping Hands for any overtime and statutory penalties we had to pay to you as a result of said fraud. His desire to complain suddenly evaporated.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. But still, Chlo, this is no quid pro quo. If that snake squeezed extra time out of you without noting it on your time card, I need to know, because if you’re at the job site, you’re on the clock, and we have to pay you for the time. Whether you’re behaving professionally while on the clock is a completely separate issue.”

  Chloe flinched at the last statement, but knew she’d earned it. “My prior time cards are pretty accurate. Yesterday was the first really bold attempt on Sempler’s part to score some free coverage.”

  “Good. Consider yourself paid. The extra half hour will be in your check. If anything like that ever happens again, tell me about it right away, okay? Handling weasels like Sempler when they pull their crap is my job.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, relieved to note Lynne appeared to believe they’d be working together again soon. “Thank you, Lynne. I’m really grateful. I don’t deserve to walk away this scot-free after what happened. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I do. It’s called going a year without sex. Makes you do crazy things. But don’t put yourself in a compromising position with a client again, ever, because in this case, two strikes and you’re out.”

  “I know. And I won’t. I promise.”

  “Take my advice and get yourself laid, girl. You are, by all accounts, dangerously hormonal at the moment.”

  She winced at the truth of the observation, then arranged her face into a more neutral expression as Michael strode into the room, decked out in light-toned fatigues.

  “Maybe,” she said into the phone.

  “No maybe about it,” Lynne replied.

  Michael dangled a key on a red-and-gold Marine Corps key ring and mouthed the word door. She nodded and closed her fingers around the shiny metal. He dropped his arm, but his gaze roved over her like a warm hand, reminding her she wore nothing but his thin, white T-shirt.

  “Is he there right now? He’s there right now, isn’t he? Is he naked?”

  “What?”

  His mouth curved into a lazy smile and he leaned close. Chloe swallowed and tightened her hold on the phone. Was he going to kiss her? His lips touched her ear and he whispered, “Your clothes are in the dryer.” Then he stepped back, put on a pair of silver-rimmed aviators, gave her a quick salute, and headed to the entryway.

  “Chloe, is he naked? Yes or no. Give me something!”

  He stopped at the door, turned and gave her one last look. Then he was gone.

  “He just left.”

  “You let him walk out the door naked?”

  “Get off the naked. He was wearing cammies and boots.” She shivered a little remembering how tall and broad and capable he’d looked, especially with the slow grin.

  “Hmm. That’s good too. Keep going,” Lynne encouraged.

  “I believe there was some kind of hat, and, this is important—aviator sunglasses.”

  “Be still my heart. Although, to be honest, it’s not my heart I’m feeling at the moment. Whew. Nice work.”

  “Thank you. Do you happen to know if Sempler intends to file a complaint against Michael?”

  “I haven’t a clue. The clinic is base-affiliated and I don’t know how that sort of thing works. Michael’s not my employee, so…”

  “Yeah, I understand.” She couldn’t eliminate the possibility. “Since I still am, thank God, when do you think you can place me in another assignment?”

  “Right now, it looks like we’ll have something at a fancy spa in New Mexico in four weeks because they have a therapist scheduled to start maternity leave.”

  Four weeks! She gripped the phone until her fingers hurt. She’d figured half that time, at worst. “Is there anything sooner? I don’t care where. I’ll take a cruise ship, if I have to.”

  “You get seasick.”

  “I get poverty sick even worse. I just drained my savings down to practically my last penny paying my grandma’s funeral expenses and a huge chunk of the old Visa debt.”

  “Fuck Visa, Chloe. Drew ran up the card; he should be paying it off.”

  “Yeah, but that’s never going to happen, and I’d like to qualify for credit again sometime this century, so I took a gamble and wrote the check. I risked being a little cash poor in the near term because I still had a bunch of weeks left on this assignment and figured I’d have time to build up my cushion. Now is literally the worst time for me to be out of work.”

  “Yikes. Sorry to hear that, but there’s nothing else available right now. Don’t panic though. Sometimes start dates move up when maternity leave’s involved. I’ll keep you at the top of my list if anything c
omes up. In the meantime, file for unemployment.”

  “I will, but it takes a couple weeks for those payments to kick in, and then the benefit is just a fraction of my normal income. It won’t cover—”

  “Yeah, I hear what you’re saying. You have to find somewhere to live for four weeks. I wish I could let you stay in the apartment, but I don’t have the authority. If we make an exception for you, we’ll never be able to enforce the vacate clause again. You also need to turn in the rental car. Can you take care of that today?”

  “Yes,” she replied, cringing at the impact on her tight budget of taking a cab to the Stars & Bars to pick up her car and then cabbing it back to Casa Clemente from the car-rental agency.

  “Do you need a loan to bridge you until the new assignment starts? Our savings is a little on the thin side since we bought the new house, but I could wire you, like, five hundred bucks.”

  So tempting, but she shook her head. “Thanks, I really appreciate the offer, but no. The housing problem is taken care of. Michael is letting me stay with him until I have a new assignment.”

  “Oh re-ally? That’s a very interesting development. And exactly what do you do to earn your keep?”

  “Nothing. It’s not like that. He insisted there are no strings attached.” But as she said the words, the gleaming rock on her ring finger snagged her attention. Temporary, she reassured herself, because her skin started to get that too-tight feeling. “He feels guilty, that’s all, and he’s very…persuasive, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome, and four weeks is more than enough time to make him sorry he ever opened his mouth. Please, Lynne, if there’s any way to get me into a new assignment sooner…”

  “I will. I swear. You’ll be the first person I call. In the meantime,” a teasing tone crept into her voice, “enjoy playing house with Major Hottie. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “What wouldn’t you do?”

  “Good point. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”