I toyed with the seam on the edge of the sofa cushion. “Max is coming over and bringing Chinese takeout for us, and we’re going to watch the new James Bond while we eat.”
She clapped one hand over her heart. “See? Right there, that’s romance, baby. I wish someone would bring me food and watch a hot guy perform impossible shit all over the world, and then take me to bed and fuck me breathless.”
I smirked. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about the fucking part.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “With you and that superhero hunk, the fucking is a given. It’s hard to be in the same zip code as you two when you’re together, because you both give off so much heat. Since I’m going to be gone most of the night, I’ll just assume what’s going to happen. Just make sure the place is standing when I get back, okay?”
I stuck out my tongue at her. “Jealous bitch.”
“And proud of it, babe.” She paused, considering. “Well, proud of the bitch part. The jealous part . . .” She tilted her head. “Not jealous of you, exactly, or of Max, although I like him and he’s yummy, for sure. But maybe a little jealous of what you have.” She smiled at me a little, all teasing gone. “It doesn’t happen for all of us, Sam. So don’t you throw this away.”
I gave her a playful salute. “Message received. Go forth and cook.”
* * *
Over our four weeks together, Max and I had learned to juggle our often-conflicting schedules. His was regimented: PT early in the morning, followed by a pretty standard eight-thirty to five work day. Mine, on the other hand, fluctuated, with some days starting and ending early while others began midday and stretched into early evening. I worked weekends, too, more often than not.
Still, Max was easy-going and accommodating, understanding when I had to go to sleep early or couldn’t meet up with him until later in the evening. He didn’t complain, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in what I did at the battlefield, coordinating living history events and special groups and projects. We’d found common ground in our love of history, in particular of the history of the Civil War.
We’d also learned that we both adored Chinese food and action movies. When Max had suggested takeout and Bond for this evening, we’d been lazing in bed just before he’d gotten up for PT. I’d been so excited about the prospect of watching 007 while we noshed that Max had laughed at me.
“You know what? You really are the absolutely perfect girlfriend.” He’d hopped out of bed, totally nude, and leaned back to give my ass a light smack, making me shriek and giggle. It wasn’t until he’d disappeared into the bathroom to get ready that I’d realized what he’d said.
Girlfriend. The word had both warmed me and terrified me, which was probably why I’d been extra edgy after the call from the advocacy group. Everything was getting serious much faster than I’d expected. I was happy, because Max was the most wonderful, exciting and passionate man I’d ever known, and I was frightened because I was already falling for him, hard.
Now, as we lay on the sofa, our limbs entwined, I thought about Harper’s suggestion that I talk to him . . . and about going with the flow. Maybe I really was making a mountain out of a molehill.
As if he’d heard me thinking, Max rubbed one warm hand down my spine. “So we’re on for Friday night still, right?” He sounded both tentative and eager, if that was possible. As if he was excited about the idea but didn’t want to let me see how much it mattered.
“Of course.” I forced myself to keep my voice light. “There is something I should mention, though. And you might not like it.”
“Oh, yeah?” His body, under mine, tensed a little. “What’s that?”
I took a deep breath to calm the butterflies hitting the walls of my stomach. “Um, the political advocacy group I work with called today. They’re organizing a rally in support of Billy Johnson. And it’s on Friday afternoon.”
Max’s arms tightened around me. “Okay. I thought all of that had died down. The protests, I mean. Petersburg PD dropped the charges against Reardon, you know. The case is in the Army’s hands now. JAG is handling it.”
“Mmmhmm, I know.” I focused on his forearms resting beneath my breasts. Even this part of his body turned me on. I had it bad. “That’s what they want us to protest. You know . . . did the Army force the police to drop the case? And why did they? That kind of thing.”
“Ah.” Max sighed. “Petersburg didn’t release any details about what happened or why they changed directions.”
“No.” I shifted a little. “But the assumption is there in the absence of any other explanation.”
“Samantha, you know I can’t tell you anything. What I discussed with Reardon is confidential.” He hesitated, and I sensed that he wanted to say more. “But can you trust me when I say that I’d never let any of my soldiers get away with doing something wrong? I’d never stand by while one of my people was let off the hook if he deserved to be punished.”
I shifted so that I could see his face. “I know that, Max. I know that you’re honorable and that you have principles.” Stretching my neck, I kissed the underside of his chin, where his evening beard rasped against my lips. “But I also know that you’re not representative of the whole Army. And it’s possible that other people who are above you want to make this problem go away.”
I expected him to argue, but he didn’t. “You’re not wrong, flower child. That shit happens. But it’s not happening now.” Sincerity and truth rang out in his words, and I didn’t have any choice but to trust him.
“I believe you.” I meant what I said, too. “I trust you, Max. I know what kind of man you are.” I swallowed hard. “And because of that, if you tell me you’d rather I skip this rally on Friday, I will. If you tell me that there’s no reason to protest, I’ll tell the advocacy group that I can’t do it.”
He was silent for several beats. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
I twisted so that my chin rested on his sternum. “Of course I would, idiot. I kind of like you a bunch. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because it’ll make you cocky, but there’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for you.”
Max stared into my eyes, and what I saw in his made my heart thud against my chest. He reached one finger to brush the hair away from my face. “I kind of like you a whole bunch, too, babe. And there is nothing on this earth that I wouldn’t do for you.” He crunched forward so that his lips pressed against mine briefly. “If you want to do this rally, if you feel like you need to do it, I’m okay with that. I trust you, too.”
Unexpected tears rose in my eyes. “Seriously? It wouldn’t make you look bad to . . . I don’t know, the officers above you?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Nah. I mean, I’ll be honest. I’d prefer that you didn’t necessarily march into the hail and farewell carrying one of your signs and chanting about the war-mongering military, but even if you did, I’d deal with it.”
I couldn’t hide my smirk. “Oh, would you? And just how would you deal?”
“I’d say, ‘Sir, that’s my girlfriend, Samantha. She’s passionate about everything she does, including me—’”
“Especially you,” I interrupted.
“‘Especially me, and no matter how much that might make you or anyone else uncomfortable, it doesn’t matter, because I love her for who she is, and I’d never ask her to change any part of that.’”
My chest tightened until breathing became an issue. “You love me?”
Max hitched me up across his chest until my lips hovered over his. “Didn’t I just say that?”
“Yeah.” I lay there, unmoving for a minute. “If I say I love you, too, and that I’ve been thinking it for days, if not weeks, will you believe me?”
The smile he gave me lit up his whole face. “Why the hell wouldn’t I believe you? My girlfriend doesn’t lie.”
Joy welled up in me, erasing all the fear and doubts I’d had all day. “No, she doesn’t. But she does have a confession to make.”
Max
kissed the tip of my nose. “Oh, really? What’s that?”
“As much as I enjoy James Bond, he’s not anywhere near as sexy as my boyfriend, and even if it makes me less of a super fan, I’d rather go into my bedroom right now and show my very sexy, very hot, very wonderful boyfriend exactly how much I love him . . . and just how passionate I can be.”
With speed that made my head spin, Max was on his feet, lifting me into his arms and cradling my body against his chest.
“Does that make me double oh sexy?” he teased, pausing just long enough to turn off the television.
He had me in the bedroom and on my bed in seconds. Somehow both of us were naked in less time than it took me to reply, giggling at my own pun.
“It means that we both have a license to thrill.”
* * *
“Excuse me. Are you Samantha Crewe?”
I glanced up from the book I’d been reading at my desk. One of the perks of my position was that I was not only permitted to read on the job; it was actually encouraged. I’d been deep in a historical tome about one of Ulysses S. Grant’s aides during the latter days of the Civil War when I was interrupted by a light knock at my open door and a tentative voice.
Marking the page and closing the book, I stood up, smiling at the young woman who appeared to be a few years younger than me. “Yes, I’m Samantha. How can I help you?”
She stepped into my office, twisting the strap of a pretty red purse between her fingers. “My name is Tracie Framer. I, uh . . .” She took a deep breath. “I needed to talk to you about the protest tomorrow. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but it’s kind of urgent. This couldn’t wait.”
I frowned, my heart falling a little. I hadn’t decided definitively what I was doing about the rally that was scheduled for the next afternoon. I felt at peace about Max and his reaction, but I wasn’t sure anymore that we were on the right side in this cause.
“Please sit down.” I indicated a chair across from my desk. “Did you want to get involved in the rally? We have quite a few point of contact volunteers, and I can give you their names and numbers.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t want anything to do with it. The thing is, I don’t want you to have it. I was hoping you could cancel the whole thing.”
“Oh.” I sat back in my seat. “Can you explain why?”
She ran her tongue over her lips, nerves evident in every movement. “See, the thing is, Billy Johnson was my boyfriend. We used to—I used to—well, we lived together for about six months. But I moved out and left him about seven weeks ago.”
“Okay.” I remembered a few comments I’d heard from other people, and a chill crept up my spine.
“Billy isn’t a nice guy.” Tracie leaned forward, her gaze intent on me. “He’s—he’s mean, he’s nasty, and he’s a bully. I heard that before we dated, but he was sweet to me at first.” She waved one hand in the air between us. “I know, that’s what everyone says. But it was true. I had just broken up with a guy who left me when he went away to college, and Billy was so nice in the beginning. He listened to me cry about my other boyfriend, and then eventually, I don’t know. I thought I was in love with Billy. When he asked me to move in, I figured I’d finally found the man for me. Even though people tried to tell me different, I thought I’d changed him. I didn’t think he could ever be cruel to me.”
“Oh.” I closed my eyes. I already knew where this was going. “Until he was.”
“Until he was,” Tracie agreed. “It was little stuff at first. Pushing me when he got mad. Yelling when I messed up food or was late getting home. And then it was worse. Finally, he hauled off and punched me in the face, and I guess that shook the sense into me, because that night, I packed up and left.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached across the desk and squeezed the girl’s hand. “I can’t imagine what you went through.”
“Yeah, well, it could’ve been worse. I could’ve stayed. But I didn’t. I got out, and I was doing okay. That night at the Crater was the first time I’d gone out since I left Billy. I was with my girlfriends, and I thought everything would be okay. I met this really cute soldier from Fort Lee, and we weren’t doing anything. I mean, Char—that’s one of my friends—she went outside with the guy she’d been talking to. But I was just enjoying some conversation. And then he was so sweet, and I just leaned up to give him a kiss, nothing more. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Billy had grabbed me and thrown me down, and he started yelling at the guy and at me. Called me a cheating bitch. When I said that I didn’t belong to him, he backhanded me and I just went down. Would’ve hit the floor if Private Reardon hadn’t caught me.”
She fell silent. My stomach churned, and regret and sympathy vied for my attention. “That’s why Private Reardon hit him, then. He was protecting you.”
Tracie nodded, her face miserable. “And I knew it, and I tried to tell the cops, but they didn’t want to hear, and then a bunch of people told me to stay quiet and shut up. They said that Billy was hurt bad and might die, and that if I spoke up, I could be considered, like, an accomplice. Now I’m not stupid, but I also know that sometimes innocent people get the rap for shit they didn’t do.”
“I understand.” My lips were dry. “Have you gone to the police now? Do they know this part of the story?”
“Yeah.” She pulled her hand from mine and went back to twisting her purse strap. “That’s why they dropped the charges against the soldier. A couple of other people stood up, too, and confirmed what I’d said. It was definitely self-defense. Or maybe in defense of me.” She shrugged. “Plus, Billy’s going to be fine. I heard that from someone who used to be a friend of his. He might get some disability for a while, but his brain is as good as it ever was.” She made a face. “Not that that’s saying much.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess. I’m glad he’ll be okay, even if he is a creep.” I tapped the edge of my desk. “How did you know I was involved with the rally?”
“I saw the signs in town, and I looked up the name of the group on the internet. When I called them, they gave me your number. I don’t want to start trouble—well, any more trouble, I guess—but it seems pretty damned stupid to protest something like this. I was hoping you could get your group to call it all off.”
I nodded. “I think I can make that happen.”
“Okay, then.” Tracie stood up. “I’m sorry to bother you here. This is a cool place, you know? We came here a couple of times during school, for field trips, but I haven’t been back in a long time. I loved history in high school, but then I kind of forgot how much I liked it until I came over today.”
I rose to my feet, too. “You know, we have lots of volunteer opportunities. If you’re interested, let me know, and I can get you set up. It doesn’t have to take much of your time, but if you enjoy history and working with people, it can be rewarding.”
Her pretty face lit up. “I’d like that. Hey, maybe something good might come out of this mess, after all.”
I thought about meeting Max that first day after the protest. If I hadn’t been there in that field, with my broken-down car, stuck just as he was driving by, we never might have met. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without the man I’d come to know and love. Although I was sorry for what both Tracie and Private Reardon had gone through, I couldn’t help being grateful that serendipity had led me to Max Remington.
“You’re right about that,” I agreed. “My grandmother used to say that it’s an ill wind that blows no good. I hope you can find the silver lining in everything that’s happened to you.”
“Thanks.” She turned to leave, hesitating before she went through the doorway. “I just wish I had a way to get in touch with Private Reardon. I’d like to apologize for taking so long to come forward. And I’d like to thank him for standing up for me that night. But I guess that wouldn’t be possible.”
I grinned. “Sometimes the impossible isn’t quite so unlikely as you might think.”
Chapter Seven
Max
“My God, flower child. You are breathtaking.”
I stood just inside the small living room of the apartment that my girlfriend shared with her roommate. Samantha had yelled at me to come in when I’d knocked on the front door a few minutes before—I intended to have a little chat with both Samantha and Harper about keeping the door locked when they were inside—but she’d told me to stay out of her room until she was ready for her grand entrance.
I knew she was excited about tonight, and that made me anticipate the evening all the more. I could admit now, too, that her decision to cancel the rally after the advocacy group learned the truth about Billy Johnson was also a relief. I’d never ask my girl to be anyone other than who she was—and I’d said that to her when she’d warned me that the next time, under other circumstances, the protest might go on—but I appreciated that she trusted me, too.
At Samantha’s request, I’d passed on Tracie Framer’s contact information to Private Reardon, who, although he was still going to receive an official reprimand for fighting, would not be drummed out of the Army. He’d taken it from me without comment, but I had a hunch he’d be calling her. Of course, that was up to him. As for me, I’d just been glad that the entire situation was resolved and I could enjoy tonight with my girl.
Harper had come out first, still clad in her chef’s uniform from her early shift at the restaurant. When she’d seen me, she’d shot me a broad wink.
“Wait’ll you see our girl. She pulled out all the stops tonight.”
And indeed, she had. The vision in front of me now was definitely my girl, but I’d never seen her so dressed up and radiant. Her dark honey hair was arranged in loose curls that fell just below her chin. Careful makeup accented her beautiful eyes and outlined those alluring lips. And her body . . . holy wow.
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