When she passed they called out to her and whistled. She ignored them.
Attagirl.
Another man, this one decked out in expensive running gear, pulled up alongside Brooke on the outside, pacing her, placing himself between her and the outer grass where the rowdy guys waited for her to come around again. He said something. She smiled, nodded, and removed her earbuds.
Shane didn’t like that one bit.
Two laps turned into three and then four. Shane rolled to prone, pushed up onto his elbows, and imagined watching the interloper through the sights of his M16—the army’s idea of war-zone conflict resolution. He could almost feel its weight and shape as he pretended to line up his shot, waiting for the perfect moment to squeeze the trigger and pop. Threat eliminated.
Ironic how the expert marksmanship he’d used to kill again and again while on deployment in Iraq and Afghanistan, the same skill that’d earned him high praise from his superiors, would earn him life in prison if used on U.S. soil.
Too bad.
The guy’s mouth didn’t stop moving, almost like he knew how much Brooke liked to talk.
Who was he? What did he want?
You know what he wants.
That knowledge compelled Shane to stand and make his way down the hill, slowly, the uneven ground and grass making his descent with a bum leg and a cane treacherous. It wasn’t pretty. At least he made it without falling on his ass.
When she noticed him standing by an opening in the fence, Brooke waved and ran toward him, her new running partner close behind.
He was a few inches taller than Brooke but with a thin frame; Shane could take the guy. No problem. One well-placed punch should do it.
Completely unaware of the direction of his thoughts, she smiled. “Shane, I’d like you to meet—”
“This guy bothering you?” he asked, not at all interested in getting to know the snake trying to slither into Brooke’s life.
“No,” she said, breathing heavily, her cheeks pink, her expression filled with innocence. She had no idea how sexy she looked in her outfit, or how that loser kept dropping back to ogle her butt. “He asked me—”
Shane cupped the back of her head, leaned forward, and silenced her with a kiss. He hadn’t planned it. In fact, the urge struck him completely by surprise. He chose not to fight it, because in that moment he could think of no words to adequately express the fierceness of his feelings. Possessive, protective, and pissed as shit she’d been enjoying time spent with some stranger rather than with him.
Once he got started there wasn’t a force in nature strong enough to stop him.
She didn’t fight, actually melted into his arms, which he tightened around her as he lost himself in the softness of her lips, the sweet taste of her, and God help him, the tiny moan of pleasure that escaped her. He deepened the kiss, needing more, his tongue probing, looking for entry. When she provided an opening he took it, plunging into her mouth like he’d dreamt of plunging into a different part of her body with a different part of his. An intense rush of adrenaline, or something like it, surged through his system; his heart rate accelerated his respirations increased, same as if he’d been running right along with her. He felt energized and powerful. Reborn. Ecstasy replaced pain. Hope replaced despair.
“All right. I get it.” Her running mate’s words broke his trance. “Let her breathe.”
Shane let her go, cursing himself for losing control, for being so rough. Without his support she swayed. He caught her. She appeared dazed, her pupils dilated. “Why’d you do that?” she whispered.
“He was bothering me.”
“Nice to meet you, Brandy,” her temporary companion said. Then he ran off.
Good riddance. “Brandy?” Shane raised his one eyebrow in question as he once again tried to let go of her.
This time she stood on her own. “Well, it’s not like I was going to give him my real name,” Brooke huffed, stepping back.
Smart girl.
“He seemed like a good guy.” She turned to watch him leave with a look of longing that speared Shane in the gut. “He asked me out to dinner.”
“You’re not going.”
She stiffened. “Let me get this straight.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. “You don’t want me, but no one else can have me, either?”
“No way am I going to stand by and let some stranger pick you up in the park.”
“I know.” She looked off into the distance. “But it sounded like fun.”
“You want to go out to dinner, I’ll take you out to dinner.” Another unplanned move, but once he’d said the words he instantly liked the idea.
“If that’s your way of asking me out, your technique needs work.”
He reached for her chin and tilted it up, forcing her to look at him. “Brooke Ellstein, would you do me the honor of going out to dinner with me tonight?”
“You’re only asking because you’re jealous.” She stared straight into his eye with both of hers.
“I’m asking because I want to take you out on a date.” He really did. To do something nice for her, after all the problems he’d caused, after his sister attacked her, after he hadn’t protected her, after he’d misjudged her, twice.
She studied his face as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth, then shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
It was a great idea, some tasty food, a couple of drinks, some private time together that didn’t include him stuffed into his Jeep, uncomfortable and “unpleasant,” as Brooke had put it. And after that kiss…maybe he could convince her. Just once. One time for him to remember always.
“What’s that you told me on the way to New Jersey? You wanted to find a thoughtful, honest, decent guy who enjoys spending time with you?” He spread his arms wide. “Well, here I am. Go out on a date with me.”
“And what’s that you’ve told me, multiple times if I remember correctly?” She tapped her adorable chin with her mitten then snapped without making a sound. “That’s right. We couldn’t be more different and you’re not the man for me.”
He leaned in close and cupped her cheek with his palm. “Can’t we pretend? You and me, girlfriend and boyfriend for one night? You’ve dreamed about having sex with me.” Her cheeks went from pink to red, and she tried to turn away. He didn’t let her. “Have you imagined going on a date with me?”
She avoided eye contact. “You know I have. We’ve written about it.”
“Let’s make someday today. One time. Now’s your chance, sweetheart,” he said quietly, as enticingly as he could. “We may not have forever, but we have right now.”
“I need to think. Please.” She glanced toward his hand where it held her cheek. Most of the women he’d known over the years would have jerked their heads away and pushed him back. Not the ever-polite Brooke. He released her.
“I’m going to take a slow lap.” As she turned she mumbled, “Or four.”
“You do that,” he said to the back of her head. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist and gently drew her closer. “While you’re at it,” he whispered in her ear, “think about this. I never said I didn’t want you. The truth is I want you so much I ache for you.”
Chapter Fifteen
She eventually accepted Shane’s invitation, swayed by his words, “We may not have forever, but we have right now,” and by the simple enjoyment of lying beside him on the blanket, both of them looking up at the sky, finding shapes in the clouds. Of playing the word association game they’d played in their letters, which was much more fun in person. Of watching him play Frisbee with Jillian. Of the three of them enjoying a mini picnic snack on a beautiful day, Shane laughing at Jillian’s silly jokes.
It all seemed so normal, such simple pleasures.
So as they were packing up to head home she’d told him yes, she’d go out on a date with him. They could be boyfriend and girlfriend for the night.
Then he’d lost his balance while
trying to load the bikes into the back of his Jeep and flew into a nasty rage when Brooke tried to help him, and she’d immediately regretted her decision.
Sometimes he felt so familiar, like she’d known him for years. Other times he felt like a total stranger, a man she had no interest in knowing.
Yet both men were Shane.
The good and the bad.
Which version would show up for their date?
To keep her mind off of the potential disaster looming, after returning home from the park, Brooke kept busy all afternoon, helping Patsy do more baking for the luncheon to follow Tommy’s memorial service—while Shane had gone mysteriously absent, again. From the amount of cookies, pies, and cakes lining the counters in the kitchen, the big dining room table, and each of the eight chairs, Patsy had prepared enough desserts to satisfy the sweet tooth of well over two hundred guests.
The baking done, Brooke waited until the last possible second to go upstairs to get ready, so she didn’t have time to second-guess her decision or think of an excuse to get out of going.
She wanted to go.
Except on the way to the restaurant, in the close confines of Shane’s small Jeep, with his large body so close, the darkness started to close in and she plummeted into first-date anxiety like someone had tied a dozen cinder blocks to her waist and shoved her off the edge of sanity. Her mouth went dry and her heart fluttered in her chest as she stared out the window, trying to distract herself by watching house after house pass by, some with porch lights on, some without, all crowded one right after the other.
It made no sense. A date with Shane should be easy. She didn’t have to work hard to impress him, didn’t need to study up on current events beforehand or stress about being a good conversationalist and enjoyable dinner companion. She didn’t have to adhere to strict cultured and decorous behavior; her mother would not be following up with him to see how the date went. Brooke wouldn’t have to dread her mother’s morning-after interrogation phone call or prepare excuses to avoid another date, or endure her mother’s harsh criticisms and demands Brooke try harder to make a respectable match.
She could relax, be herself, and simply enjoy the evening.
With Shane.
A dream come true.
Except Brooke’s reality typically paled in comparison to her dreams.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Shane said.
Because her mind was an unruly riot of activity.
She forced herself to focus. Clearing her parched throat she glanced over at him. “Sorry. What would you like to talk about?”
The weather? She recalled an earlier report calling for warmer than average temperatures. Issues pertaining to women’s health, pro-life vs. pro-choice, and women’s rights? Admittedly those were heavy-duty, somewhat polarizing, topics that could get a date off to a bad start. The stock market, investment trends, or the current economic environment? She had no idea of his interest in or knowledge of those subjects. Universal health care? No, he had veterans’ benefits. The war? He likely knew much more about that than she did. And why bring up unpleasant memories of his injury?
Then it came to her. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Nothing’s wrong. Just wondering how you’ll be spending your Halloween.” Wow! “Look at that house! It’s covered in giant spiders!”
“They do it up big each year.” He reached over. “Your hands are like ice.”
His were warm as a Caribbean beach. Paradise. If only she could transport herself there with a simple wish. “I know it’s totally ridiculous, but first dates make me nervous.”
He steered the car out of a neighborhood onto a dark road. “Why?”
She shrugged—a habit her mother absolutely despised. “Expectations.” She rubbed Grandma Ellstein’s pearls. “Mostly yours. Will you like what I’m wearing? Will you enjoy my company? Will I say and do all the right things? Will you have a good time?”
With regard to her first date with Shane specifically, her nervousness also included uncertainty as to whether he’d fly into a rage at any point in the evening, attracting unwanted attention, upsetting her and others. Would he become antagonistic like he had at the rest stop or threatening like he had when she’d untied his boots?
He let go of her hand, put on his signal, and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Then he put the car in park, turned on his flashers, and swiveled as best he could in his seat belt to face her. “There’s no need for you to be nervous when you’re out with me. I’m easy. A nice steak, a cold beer, and a date who doesn’t flirt with other men while she’s with me and I’m good. My expectations aren’t all that high. You’ve already shot through one or two of them with how exceptionally fine you look tonight.”
A pair of black slacks, black pumps, and a white fitted blouse could hardly be considered “exceptionally fine” date attire, but she appreciated the compliment.
“And if you’re worrying about after our date, don’t,” he went on. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen.” He reached out to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch. “I understand the word ‘no,’ Brooke. And I respect it. If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me ‘no’ and I swear on Tommy’s grave I’ll stop, right then and there.”
“I know you will.” Even so, his words did, in fact, help to put her more at ease. While she found the idea of making love with sweet Shane most appealing, rough sex up against a wall with angry Shane did not appeal to her at all.
“No pressure.” The light from the dashboard allowed her to see his smile. “Well, maybe a little pressure.” He held up his left hand with his thumb and index fingers spaced about an inch apart. “But no more than I gave you that night at the hotel. Nothing you can’t handle.”
She smiled, loving this lighter side of him, remembering that night, longing for a repeat. “You planning to take me to Sassy’s back room after dinner?” she teased.
“What? God, no.” He hesitated, seemed to reconsider, then moved in close, dropped his voice an octave and said, “Unless you want me to take you to Sassy’s back room after dinner.” He cupped the back of her head and gently tugged until his mouth hovered just above her left ear. “I haven’t forgotten that I owe you one.” He ran his tongue around the inner rim then whispered, “If nothing else I hope you’ll give me the chance to even us up.”
His tongue prompted an eruption of tingles traveling down into her jaw. His words prompted an eruption of tingles that shot all the way to her core. More. “You make me want things I know I shouldn’t want.” Not yet.
“Who knows what tomorrow will bring?” he said quietly. “We have tonight. Let’s not waste a minute of it.” He kissed the sensitive cove below her ear. “You look beautiful tonight.”
It felt so good Brooke tilted her head, inviting him lower. “Thank you.”
He accepted, nibbling down the side of her neck, talking as he went. “We’re going…to have…a…fantastic time…tonight.”
Things were certainly off to a good start. When she opened her mouth to respond, a moan of pure pleasure snuck out.
“Kiss me,” Shane said.
Eyes blurred with lust, Brooke found his lips and did just that. Softly. Over and over. More. She clutched his head in both hands, kissing him longer, harder, deeper.
When she finally got control of herself and stopped, he set his forehead to hers and said, “Don’t be nervous. Not with me.”
“Okay.” “Nervous” had disappeared and “aroused” had taken over, urging Brooke to suggest they skip dinner and find a dark spot where they could get naked. Never before had she found the idea of having sex in a car so appealing.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Feeling better now?”
Feeling wonderful, her body sighed. “Much.”
He moved back over to his seat. “We good to go?” He turned off the flashers and shifted into drive, but didn’t move his foot from the brake.
Brooke’s thoughts were at war. This Shane is the one she’d fallen for, the one she wanted to make love with. What if they went to dinner and something happened and he disappeared for the rest of the night, replaced by cranky Shane? On the other hand, this may be their only chance for a nice romantic evening. He’d offered her one night. Did she want to spend it having sex then heading home? Or did she want a nice, romantic evening first, good conversation, maybe some dancing, and then sex?
Option two won out. “Yes. We’re good to go.”
He pulled back onto the road, still holding her hand. “So where are you taking me?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
About twenty minutes later they were passing through a nice, well-lit little town lined with stores. He slowed the car, released her hand, and pointed across the street. “That’s where we’re going.”
A big white sign with red cursive lettering read SAL’S PLACE. It looked to be more bar than restaurant with a list of drink specials written in white chalk on a blackboard beside the heavy wooden front door.
Disappointment settled heavily on her chest, making it difficult to take a breath. A bar? For their one special night together he’d chosen to take her to a bar? Brooke worked to regulate her breathing, determined not to let her disappointment show.
Shane made one left turn, then another, and pulled into a seedy-looking parking lot behind the restaurant. Once the car was stopped he took out his phone and dialed. “Hey, I’m here.” He covered the mouthpiece of his phone and spoke to her while he listened. “Going in through the kitchen will keep you out of the main part of the restaurant. I thought it best to limit who sees you as much as possible to avoid anyone recognizing you.”
“Thank you.” It made sense. But she couldn’t get over the irrational feeling that maybe he was embarrassed to be seen with her, someone so different from the sexy, outgoing women he probably dated.
Shane held up his finger and spoke into the phone. “No, I wouldn’t say hideously disfigured.”
A gasp escaped her. Unbelievable, that someone could be so rude and say something so offensive to a soldier who’d been wounded in action! Shane didn’t look disfigured to her. Sure he wore an eye patch, but in her opinion it added a sense of mystery and toughness to his good looks.
Loving You Is Easy Page 15
