Married to a Marine

by Cathie Linz

  That didn’t diminish the tension, it only seemed to enhance it. At least, that’s how Kelly felt. She had no idea what Justice was thinking. He had his Marine face on.

  Having told her that it wouldn’t happen again, Justice clearly had no interest in repeating the kiss they’d shared. Neither did she. Analyzing it, however, was another thing. The only way to learn not to repeat past mistakes was to learn from them. So what had she learned from that awesome kiss?

  For one thing she’d discovered that Justice was the most incredible kisser on the face of the entire planet. The mere memory of his mouth consuming hers made her weak at the knees once again. Not a helpful bit of information. Unless it served to remind her that she was vulnerable where Justice was concerned. For whatever reason. Hormones, a full moon, leftovers of an adolescent crush—whatever the reason, she had a weak spot for him. A very hot weak spot.

  She felt her cheeks flush. Time to yank out her “sensible” protective shield. Justice was a normal healthy male, who was clearly an accomplished kisser. He obviously wanted her to act as if nothing had happened between them. Which was a logical thing to do. Much better than getting in over their heads.

  Not that Justice was suffering from the same vulnerability that was making her heart race. He showed no signs of brooding about the incident. He’d probably already completely erased it from his memory banks. Men were like that. They had the uncanny ability to wipe out anything even vaguely approaching emotional territory.

  Her own father had often done that. The closest he’d come to showing emotion had been to give her an awkward pat on the shoulder. Which she had to assume was meant to be taken as a sign of paternal affection. But it sure didn’t take the place of being told once in a while that you were loved.

  Not that love or even affection had anything to do with Justice kissing her. She just happened to be…handy. That had to have been it. Besides, she’d been the one who’d reached for him. Granted, she’d merely planned on planting a platonic kiss on his cheek, but still, she’d been the one who’d started it all.

  But he was the one who’d set the pace for their kiss once their lips had met. He hadn’t turned away from her.

  Which meant what? That when a woman throws herself at him, he responds. Big deal. Few men wouldn’t respond.

  But he’d certainly responded…passionately. And being the woman she was, that made her wonder if he hadn’t been thinking of Barbie when he kissed her.

  Kelly shot him a covert look from beneath her lashes before remembering she was wearing sunglasses and could stare at him outright without him knowing it. He’d already vehemently denied that he was still pining after her sister. And, as a practical matter, the divorce had happened twelve years ago—which was a long time for anyone to pine. But if someone had emotions that ran deep, as she suspected Justice’s did, then time didn’t matter.

  Rats. Couldn’t the man do something to give her a clue as to his thoughts? Couldn’t he have said something?

  Or even better, couldn’t he have been a sloppy kisser? Couldn’t he have left her cold, not tempted her in the tiniest bit? None of this was working out as she’d planned.

  The plan had been to get in, help Justice with his physical therapy and get out. There hadn’t been anything in her plan about being kissed senseless by him.

  Okay, one thing was clear here. She kept harping on it, she knew, but facts were facts. Justice hadn’t reached for her first, she’d reached for him. She was no sexy vixen who’d tempted him so badly that he could no longer resist, had tossed his fishing pole aside and had grabbed her in his arms and kissed her. The very idea of such a thing made her smile. Which was a good thing. That meant she hadn’t lost her sense of humor along with her sanity.

  “What are you smiling at?” Justice asked suspiciously.

  Maybe he was as curious about her thoughts as she was about his? Doubtful, but within the distant realm of possibility. The very distant realm. The reality was that Justice was still distrustful of her, suspicious of what she might be up to.

  Good. Maybe that would make him a little unsettled. It wasn’t fair that she was the only one feeling as if she had a cement mixer for a stomach.

  Unfortunately, Kelly was too softhearted to wish her own uncertainties on Justice. So she answered his question. Sort of. “I guess I was smiling at human foibles.”

  “Foibles? Another of your trifling words?” His voice was mocking.

  “Just remember who beat the pants off you at word games, fella.”

  She’d meant her comment to be a strictly teasing one, but the memory of him wearing nothing but his boxer shorts was making her all hot and bothered again.

  “That’s not something I’m likely to forget,” Justice said.

  “Me, neither,” she said truthfully.

  “So when are you going to give me the chance to win?”

  “Never. We’ve done all the stripping we’re going to do.”

  A sensible comment if ever she’d spoken one, but somehow what stuck in Kelly’s mind was we and stripping—the image of her and Justice peeling off their clothing as they continued the kiss that had sparked off her hormones earlier.

  “Stripping is definitely off-limits,” Justice agreed.

  Kelly had to nod, her mouth was too dry at the erotic images wickedly flashing in her wayward mind.

  “Much too tempting,” he added.

  What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to pounce on his words. Had he been tempted by the possibility of her stripping? Jeez, how desperate did that make her sound? Like he wouldn’t be tempted by any woman stripping in front of him.

  Get a grip, she sternly ordered herself. And not a grip on this sexy Marine. A grip on your self-control.

  “Someday we’ll look back on last night and laugh,” she said with manufactured cheerfulness.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She didn’t think so, either. This time she couldn’t resist asking, “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t like losing.”

  Oh, right. How could she have forgotten that element of it? Here she was all wrapped up in the stripping part, and all he could think of was winning. A Marine never fails. Even at board games.

  “I don’t like losing, either.” And I must be losing my mind to have thought for one minute that Justice had found me deliciously tempting. The thought burned through her psyche. Her…the sensible, smart Hart sister? Deliciously tempting? Not likely. Maybe he had been thinking about Barbie when he’d kissed her. That thought made Kelly want to crawl into a hole.

  “Something we agree on, then.”

  “What is?” She’d lost track of their conversation, consumed as she was with the wave of humiliation that she was determined to hide from him at all costs.

  “That neither of us likes losing.”

  “Right.” She nodded curtly. “You know what, why don’t you go on ahead?” Her words were choppy but she didn’t care. “I think I’m going to head over to the beach for a while and collect some shells.” She veered off without waiting for his reply.

  There was a time to stand firm and a time to cut your losses and retreat in order to fight another day.

  The only problem was that Kelly’s fight was with herself and her attraction to Justice…and it didn’t look like a battle that she was winning at the moment.

  For the next day or two Kelly made a point of keeping her relationship with Justice strictly professional. She touched him as little as possible, showing him the exercises she wanted him to complete rather than using her usual hands-on approach. But she did have to touch him on occasion, and when she did so, she deliberately acted as if he were a nonsexual buddy she’d known for years, someone she was as comfortable with as an old pair of slippers.

  It didn’t really work. At least not in her own mind. The memory of that fiery kiss they’d shared remained as vivid as ever. But hopefully Justice had no idea that she tossed and turned at night over him.

  She did catch him looking at
her sometimes, however. She referred to this as his “secret” stare, but then, he was a man with a history of secrets and covert operations. There was no way of knowing what he was thinking about when he looked at her, or if he was even seeing her at all. For all she knew, he could have been thinking about something else entirely.

  She did know Justice was frustrated by the slowness of his recovery. She also knew he was still pushing himself, despite her warning him that doing so was not helpful.

  They’d talked about setting goals that first day they’d started his therapy. “My goal is to return to Force Recon,” he’d said.

  “I thought perhaps we could start with some smaller goals,” she’d replied. “Other patients have started with tasks they’d like to perform.”

  “Okay, I’d like to be able to do a hundred one-armed push-ups.”

  “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind. My other patients have started with specific things like tossing money into the toll booth, or retrieving their ATM card from the machine, both of which include lifting their arms…”

  The dark look on his face had made her voice trail off. In the end he had come up with some smaller goals that involved range of motion, but it had been a struggle.

  The thing was, they were stuck together in a relatively small space—the beach house. There were no further visits from what Justice called the turtle women. Kelly had taken to walking the beach by herself every day, usually right before sunset. The mystery dog accompanied her each time, running after driftwood she’d toss for him and bringing it back to her with a joyful bark. She’d been slipping him food every day, but Justice clearly didn’t approve.

  He told her so again now, as she returned from her walk with the animal loping merrily by her side. Seeing Justice’s disapproving look, Kelly said, “The dog is just keeping me company.”

  “I told you that the aforementioned canine does not belong to me and is not to be babied. You’re not doing him any favors by making him dependent on handouts. He needs to fend for himself, to make his own way.”

  “We’re not talking about one of your Marine recruits here, we’re talking about a dog. He’s not even that big yet, are you, fella?” Kelly rubbed the animal’s ears, which earned her an adoring look.

  “Little, big, it doesn’t matter. You’re making him soft. You’re not going to be here very long. I’ve seen it happen before with military personnel and their dependents, leaving animals behind when they’re shipped out.”

  “I wouldn’t abandon an animal or anyone I love.” Not the way my sister abandoned you, Kelly wanted to add but didn’t. “I’d stick like glue to someone I love.”

  “Easy to say, not so easy to do,” Justice noted cynically.

  “I never said it would be easy,” she pointed out. “If I was into ‘easy’ I wouldn’t have become a physical therapist. There’s nothing easy about this job.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because I can make a difference in people’s lives. Isn’t that why you do what you do?”

  He shrugged.

  “You don’t think what you do makes a difference in people’s lives?”

  He was a warrior. She was a healer. They were coming from two entirely opposite places. His mission was to search and destroy, hers was to touch and restore.

  “I don’t think about it,” Justice said curtly. Which was true. He kept his thoughts and emotions in a black box and didn’t delve inside of it. It was a box that carried one of those warnings like the microwave in the kitchen—“Do not remove back cover on danger of electric shock.” His internal black box was the permanent dumping ground for all his toxic thoughts.

  Justice had no idea what it was about a man’s emotions that made women so itchy to tamper with them. Maybe they just liked playing with a guy’s mind. They usually started out with the dreaded We have to talk…

  You had to breathe, but you never had to talk. At least none of the guys he knew did. Maybe some touchy-feely guys liked exploring their emotions, but then, most touchy-feely guys didn’t become United States Marines.

  As far as Justice was concerned, emotional self-examination was both risky and unnecessary. Risky because he might reveal something that would make him vulnerable.

  As if able to read his thoughts, Kelly said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  Her words were close enough to We have to talk to make him uncomfortable. Justice was tempted to begin immediate evasive action—something along the lines of starting an argument, although staring blankly into space also worked pretty well in his experience with women. Not with Kelly, though. Nothing seemed to stop her when she got that gleam in her root-beer-colored eyes.

  He braced himself for her next barrage of questions.

  “We need more food,” she said.

  “Food?” he repeated blankly.

  “Yes. Food. Sustenance. You know, the stuff we eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We’re running out. I thought maybe we could walk over to that store you told me about tomorrow.”

  Justice practically heaved an internal sigh of relief. Food. This was a problem he could easily solve. “I’ll give you the money and you can go order whatever you think we’ll need. They deliver.”

  “I can’t go by myself. I’m directionally challenged. I’d get lost for sure.”

  “We’re on an island. How lost can you get?”

  “You’d be surprised. You have to come with me. Is there some reason you don’t want to?” she challenged him.

  “I’m not into shopping.”

  “We’re not going shopping. Think of it as restocking provisions. That sounds like a military operation, doesn’t it?”

  “Not one Force Recon would be involved with.”

  “Well then, this will be yet another learning experience for you,” Kelly declared with that cheerful yet sexy grin of hers. “Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me? Some reason going there would make you uneasy?”

  Uneasy? Marines didn’t get uneasy. Justice knew he’d been outmaneuvered. He also suspected that this might turn out to be yet another so-called learning experience that would end up with Kelly getting the upper hand unless he took action to prevent that.

  An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. And Justice was determined to prevent Kelly from gaining any more inroads into his psyche. He would put up whatever road blocks necessary.

  Kelly walked outside the beach house the next morning to a gorgeous day. The blue sky held a puffy cloud or two to add interest without getting in the way of the sunshine. A salty breeze teased the clumps of sea oats growing along the dunes and set them swaying in a horticultural ballet. Seagulls scavenged for food along the water’s edge, their feet creating a delicate embroidery on the wet sand.

  It was one of those days that made you feel glad to be alive.

  Justice didn’t look glad about anything. He stood in front of her, wearing jeans and one of Striker’s Hawaiian shirts in blues and whites, looking dangerously sexy. The laid-back shirts might suit his buddy’s temperament, but they were definitely at odds with Justice’s darker side. He just wasn’t a beach-bum, surfer-guy type.

  Kelly wondered what Justice saw when he looked at the scenery. Did he view the sea oats as a place for an enemy to hide? Did he ever see the beauty in his surroundings or only the possibilities for danger?

  “It must be a tough way to live.”

  Kelly didn’t realize she’d murmured the words aloud until Justice said, “Being a Marine?”

  “Always being on alert, training yourself to think of everything around you as a weapon. That doesn’t leave much room for the beautiful things in life.”

  “I leave that stuff to other people.”

  “Yes, I know, but look at what you’re missing.” She waved her hand at the view in front of them. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A beach, the ocean, camouflage locations in the foliage—”

  “I knew it,” she interrupted hi
m. “Those are sea oats, and look how they’re dancing in the warm breeze.”

  He looked at her as if she were crazy before drawling, “Dancing sea oats aren’t my thing.”

  “No, turning forks into weapons is your thing.”

  “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

  “It just bothers me, that’s all.”

  “My being a Marine bothered your sister, too.”

  “It’s not about being a Marine, Justice. It’s about feeding your soul so it doesn’t shrivel up and die. It’s about letting some light into the dark places.”

  Justice mentally shoved her words aside. What did Kelly know about dark places? She didn’t have a clue. And she certainly didn’t have a clue about his dark places. No one did. And Justice aimed on keeping it that way.

  “Welcome, folks,” a burly man in a white T-shirt and denim overalls greeted them as soon as they walked in the building named Earl’s. “How can I help you?”

  “We came to get a few supplies,” Kelly replied. “We’re getting low on food.”

  Earl smiled. “Well now, we can’t have that, can we? You just head right on back there and fill up on some good eats. You folks staying here on the island?”

  “That’s right.” She would have said more, but a warning look from Justice prevented her.

  “We don’t get many tourists here. My name’s Earl Bodine, how about you?”

  “I’m Kelly and this is Justice.”

  The older man gave Justice a frown. “Have we met before?”

  “No,” Justice said curtly.

  “Your face sure seems familiar to me.” Earl frowned. “I never forget a face. Seems like I’ve seen you on TV. Not on America’s Most Wanted…it was local news. Justice…unusual name.” His expression changed as recognition came. “Hey, boy, you’re that Marine that saved that baby, aren’t you? You are. I knew I’d seen you before. Well now, we don’t get many bona fide heroes in here. Hey, Al!” he yelled at a man in the back of the store. “This here’s Justice, a bona fide hero!”

  “I’m not a hero,” Justice denied in a gritty voice.

  “Sure you are, the TV said so. I’ll bet the Marines will give you some kind of medal or something. I was in the army myself back in the Korean War.” He was interrupted by the arrival of two more customers. “Listen up, this here’s Justice, the Marine that saved that little boy’s life. It was all on TV. He’s a bona fide hero.”