by Box Set
“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Ty commented, speaking up for the first time. Derek had a moment to be grateful for the support before his brother opened his mouth again. “But she also doesn’t strike me as a bed hopper. Unlike you.”
“He wasn’t always,” his mother retorted, with a pointed look in Derek’s direction.
Ah, yeah. Family. Couldn’t live without them, couldn’t shoot them. Even when they deserved it. “They’re coming back. Shut your mouths.”
“Well, I like her. If for no other reason than she’s wearing unicorn leggings,” Lorna whispered, her green eyes sparkling with glee. “You could do worse than keeping her around longer than a few days. You could use a little sweetness and whimsy in your dour life.”
Even if his conscience knew that was true, he wasn’t going to admit it to the Forrester clan. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he was ready to accept that truth himself. So, he ignored her and nodded a greeting to the returning trio.
Katie blanched when everyone focused on her again. Yeah, they were curious, but that attention would make shy Katie want to bolt. There was no cosplay armor to protect her tonight. He wished she could dredge up some of that boldness outside of conventions.
Michelle planted herself next to Trevor with a predatory smile, and everyone scooted around the circular booth bench to make just enough room for Larry to sit next to his wife. Which meant Katie had no choice but to sit next to Derek. They were pressed together from shoulder to knee on one side, and just that simple touch was enough to make him want. Of course, he didn’t even have to touch her to crave her like an addict after a fix. His body had leapt to attention any time she was nearby for an entire year. This week’s more carnal interactions had only sharpened his need for her, not quenched it. He had one more day to indulge, and he meant to make the most of those remaining hours.
Michelle immediately launched into conversation about leather purses with his mom, and Katie took the opportunity to lean toward him and whispered, “I’m so sorry for barging in on your family dinner. I tried to talk Michelle and Larry into sitting somewhere else, but Michelle is a bulldozer when she wants to be.”
Which was always, as far as Derek could tell. “My mother is the same way. Trust me, she would have come and gotten you. Resistance was futile.”
“I think I’d have preferred dealing with the Borg.” Katie’s look was that of a deer in headlights.
He caught her hand under the table and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “No one here is going to bite. Calm down, General Organa.”
He hoped the reminder that she could be a badass when she wanted to would help. His family was nice, but often overwhelming. The Forresters could bowl people over if they didn’t stand their ground.
His comment seemed to surprise her, but she smiled and she shot him a grateful glance. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“I’ve got your back.” He ran a thumb over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “Nothing bad is going to happen, even if you sass the hell out of them.”
She snorted. “Thanks.”
The conversation ebbed and flowed, and he was glad to see Katie participating. She didn’t dive into the fray, but she contributed and didn’t remain mute, despite the speaking looks being exchanged by his family members as they watched Derek and Katie closely. He tried not to do anything that would encourage their hopes, but the mere fact that he was there with a woman who was clearly his lover and not a barfly he’d picked up for the night was going to raise hopes anyway.
Two servers showed up with everyone’s meals. One server dropped off the two large combo pizzas the Forresters had ordered and the other set down a small Hawaiian pizza and a calzone in front of Katie, Michelle, and Larry. The lanky man pulled the calzone toward him while Michelle and Katie reached for slices of the Hawaiian.
Trevor made a gagging noise. “Man, fruit does not belong on pizza.”
Lifting her chin, Katie shot him a pitying glance. “There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who understand the awesomeness of pineapple on pizza, and those who are wrong.”
A hoot of laughter went around the table, and Derek nudge her with his knee. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “Very good, sweetheart. I think that deserves a reward tonight.”
Her breath caught, and her gaze reflected unmitigated desire. God, that look was one he didn’t ever think he’d get tired of, and it had a predictable effect on his body. He went rock hard and wanted nothing more than to drag her away from everyone else and bury himself deep inside her. Over and over and over again until he’d finally had enough.
The trouble was, some traitorous part of him was beginning to think he might never get enough.
Chapter Six
“Forrester’s pinned down.” The comm sounded in Derek’s ear, but he couldn’t afford to react, couldn’t move a single muscle. Night surrounded him, and he lay beside a rock, trying to pretend he was nothing more dangerous than dirt.
He was just outside an Afghani village, and the two buildings nearest him were occupied by enemy insurgents. His team was there to get in, rescue a hostage, set explosives, and get out again without being detected. Then they’d reduce the buildings and everything and everyone inside to nothing more than bits. If all went to plan, a very high-ranking terrorist leader—Abdul Omar—would be inside one of the buildings when it blew. But they were to eliminate Omar at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing the hostage or members of their SEAL team. This was the first time in four years that they’d confirmed the man’s whereabouts. The military wasn’t about to let him slip away again.
His swim buddy, Pete Dawes, spoke softly through the comm, asking for an update, “Sit rep.”
Another team member, Smitty, had to answer because Derek couldn’t. “I can see Forrester. A guard’s damn near sitting on top of him.”
On top of the rock Derek was using as cover, but if he was discovered, they were all hosed. He wasn’t moving, despite the fact that it was his assignment to get into the building and place bricks of C-4 while his teammates extracted the hostage. They had contingency plans, of course, but frustration ate at his gut.
“I’m going in,” Pete’s voice replied. And just that smoothly, they switched to Plan B. Only they wouldn’t have Derek’s help unless the bastard sitting on this rock left. Their intel said the guards kept moving during their shifts, patrolling the perimeter of the occupied village. This guard apparently had other plans.
Every muscle remained tense in Derek’s body, sweat slipping down his temples, and he breathed as soundlessly as possible. He lay next to insurgent’s left foot, so close he could smell the sour scent of the other man’s sock. All he could do was watch and wait.
An eternity later, Pete spoke again. “Charges set.”
Smitty replied, “Hostage secured. Moving him to rendezvous point.”
“Have we confirmed our target is present?” Pete asked. Negative responses came back from each team member except Derek. If anything, the situation had become even more tense.
Just then, a Humvee pulled up in front of the closest building. A flurry of reports came through the comm—how many men were in the vehicle, what kind of weapons they carried, where they went. Omar’s arrival was confirmed. Both buildings would be filled with people inside of the next thirty seconds, and the fact that the hostage was missing would be discovered.
“Everyone pull back,” Pete whispered.
Each team member quickly reported that they were clear of the buildings. But Pete was still inside, as unable to move as Derek, if he wanted to remain unnoticed. All Pete could do was hope for a moment of opportunity to ghost himself out and disappear into the night.
“They’ve seen me, but I have Omar in sight,” Pete said, his voice utterly calm. “I’m done.”
A split second later, the darkness lit with blindly, hellish light. Fire and heat exploded over Derek in a wave, and chaos and screaming filled the night.
He woke in a cold sweat, jerking upright in
bed, heart pounding. The nightmare—the memory—ripped through his mind. He sucked in lungfuls of air, reality returning by degrees. His mind registered the fact that he was in a bed, with cheerful morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. He was back in his hometown, and his friend had been dead for almost eighteen months.
He didn’t even have to look around to know he was alone in bed. Three dreamless nights with Katie curled against his chest meant she’d already gotten up, leaving his subconscious to torment him. Turning his head, he looked toward the empty pillow beside him. The bathroom door stood open. No Katie. Damn it. It irritated him that he was irritated by her absence. That he wanted to wake up beside her. The feeling smacked of an attachment he shouldn’t—couldn’t—experience. A tiny dart of panic pierced him, and he shoved the sheet away, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He snagged his pants off the floor and pulled them on as he stood.
The scent of coffee curled into his nose the moment he yanked open the bedroom door. A quick glance around revealed Katie sitting at her worktable by the front window, sunlight burnishing her hair. She was hunched over, brows furrowed, intent on some project, with what looked like a small pair of needle nose pliers in her hand.
Instead of interrupting her, he went to the kitchen, opened a couple of cupboards until he found the coffee mugs, and poured himself a large helping of liquid ambrosia. God, that was good stuff, clearing away a few of the ugly cobwebs in his brain. A sigh worked its way up from deep inside him.
Katie glanced over at the sound, a grin forming on her face. “Hey, you’re awake.”
“I’m awake.”
The smile died. “You’re upset.”
“I prefer waking up with the person I went to sleep with.” Which was only partially a load of bull. He’d rarely actually gone to sleep with any of the women he had sex with in the last year, too afraid he’d wake up screaming from a night terror. So there’d been no reason to wake up in bed with anyone.
“I’m sorry. A lady who stopped by my booth the other day asked for a custom piece. She liked a necklace and earring set I had with red and orange stones, but she wanted it a bit fancier and with blue and green stones.” A quick smile flashed across her face. “I woke up inspired.”
He checked his attitude, knowing she’d done nothing to deserve it. He didn’t think he could manage a smile, so he winked instead, keeping his tone light. “I hope I helped with that.”
“Oh, definitely. I was in a great mood when I got up.” She tilted her head. “Sorry you can’t say the same.”
Yeah, he wasn’t touching that one. She’d poked and pried into his private life more than once, and he wasn’t opening the door to that kind of conversation. Especially not with the blood-soaked dream so fresh in his mind. He took a sip of the coffee. “I know how you could improve my mood.”
A wicked twinkle sparked in her gaze. “Really? What did you have in mind?”
“Are you done with your jewelry?” His need for prurient distraction shouldn’t mess with her business.
Her expression softened. “Give me fifteen minutes?”
“No problem.” He nodded to her worktable. Maybe if he kept all his focus on her, his memories would fade faster. “Did it turned out the way you wanted?”
“Better, actually. I’m especially pleased with the wire work around the stones.” She stroked a fingertip over her lips. “Yeah. I like it. More importantly, I think my client will love it.”
“I’m glad.”
She reached for her tools again, her attention sliding back to her project. “Getting it done this quickly should please my client. I was going to set up a listing on my online shop so she could buy it and pay for shipping, but I’ll drop her an email and see if she can stop by my booth today. No shipping charge that way.”
It was nice to see her looking so happy, so satisfied. Well, creatively satisfied, anyway. Not the kind of satisfied she had been last night. He liked her all kinds of satisfied. “Finish up.”
“Thanks.” She resumed her hunched position, her eyes narrowing at she worked.
“Have you eaten?”
“Mmm?” Her voice was distracted. “No, I was too wrapped up in this. I just had coffee.”
“All right, then. I’m making breakfast.”
She shot him a quick glance. “Carbing up before I wring you out?”
“You wish, sweetness. We’re both going to need a few extra calories to get through today.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her face, but she didn’t look up again, her focus recaptured by her artwork. God, she was beautiful. And she didn’t even know it, letting her shyness and lack of self-confidence keep her caged, except when she was pretending to be someone else. Part of that, he didn’t get, but part of it…yeah, he could understand how appealing it would be to leave his troubles behind for a little while. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing when he was bed-hopping for the last year? He wasn’t sure which of them had the healthier coping mechanism, but he suspected it wasn’t him.
She’d said it was easy to be bold with him, and he had to admit, it was easier to silence his inner demons when he was with her. He stood there and watched her for a few more moments, feeling something unwind inside him that had been strung tight for far too long. That was a realization he didn’t want to examine too closely, so he pushed away from the counter and set about scaring up some food.
He opened the fridge to find the shelves pretty bare. Then again, she hadn’t expected to be home for all her meals this week, so it made sense that she’d have kept the perishables to a minimum. But she had eggs, and that’d work for breakfast. He pulled out a half-full carton of eggs, shredded cheese, and deli ham. He found an onion and a slightly wilted bell pepper in a bowl on the counter. Good enough. Slicing everything up took a matter of minutes, and then he had all the fixings needed for a couple of decent omelets.
Digging through her cupboards and drawers, he found plates, utensils, and a spatula. It was weird getting domestic in someone else’s house—something he hadn’t done since the last time he’d had a serious girlfriend. That was…Jesus, three years ago. He winced at the thought, and didn’t like what it said about him, but that wasn’t a problem he was going to solve this morning.
He dished their breakfast onto plates, quickly scrubbed the knife, spatula, and pan he’d used, and brought the plates over to the kitchen table. “How’s everything going over there?”
“Done.” She sat back in her chair, rubbing her shoulders and stretching her neck. “That smells amazing.”
“Omelets.”
“Yum.” Her stomach rumbled loudly and she slapped a hand across her middle. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now.”
“You were absorbed in your work. Nothing wrong with that.” He pulled out a chair for her and she rose to join him at the table. After she was seated, he slid into the chair across from hers.
A happy little hum escaped her as she took the first bite. “Oh, my God. This is fantastic. I always overcook or undercook omelets. I end up with a dry mess or something resembling cheesy snot.”
“There’s a mental image,” he replied drily, forking up a cheesy bit of egg. Fortunately, years of mess halls, MREs, and even less appealing foods while he’d served meant he had a cast-iron stomach. Shoe leather was more palatable than some of the things he’d eaten when his team was out in the field.
She stabbed a piece of ham with her fork, then waved it at her plate. “Is this something you picked up from your mom or the Navy?”
“Both. Mom made sure all her sons learned the basics, and the Navy filled in the rest.” But he didn’t want to talk about him today, so he nodded toward her worktable. “How long have you been making jewelry?”
“Since I was a child, really.” The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled sheepishly. “My grandmother caught me dissecting one of her favorite costume pieces, trying to figure out how it was made. On the condition that I would never touch her jewelry box
again, she bought me my own stash of secondhand costume pieces to take apart and put back together, along with a beginner’s jewelry-making kit. It sort of took off from there.”
Between bites of omelet, he asked, “How did that turn from hobby to profession?”
“In college, I majored in business with a minor in jewelry design, so that way if I could only make it work as a hobby, I had a marketable degree to fall back on.” Quiet pride filled her voice. “Fortunately, I can make a decent living with my art.”
“You pay for this condo.” And property wasn’t cheap in California, especially in one of the state’s largest cities.
“No, I inherited this place when Grandma Betty passed.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But I did pay for my nice new car and it keeps me in food and clothes.”
“And costumes.”
She laughed. “Yes, we can’t forget those.”
“Never.” He had a feeling Wonder Woman Katie was going to visit him in his dreams in the future. It was a far better prospect than his usual dreams.
Finishing off the last remaining morsels of her breakfast, she asked, “Who are you dressing as today? Do we get finally to see Stacker Pentecost today or are you avoiding him and re-wearing one of the other costumes?”
He groaned, rubbing a palm over his forehead. “Yeah, I’m going to bite the bullet and wear it.”
“Aw, it might not be so bad.” She leaned forward and caught his free hand.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Michelle. Slash. Rule 34.”
Her cheeks sucked in as she tried not to smile. “Michelle’s fun.”
“Watching her mess with Trevor was definitely fun.” He toasted her with his coffee mug. “So, she gets Pentecost today as a reward.”
A husky laugh escaped her. “You’re such a nice man.”
“I try. Though I have to point out that Larry is a brave, brave man.” And so laidback, Derek figured a nuclear bomb wouldn’t faze him. Maybe Larry needed a woman who was reminiscent of a hyper terrier for balance.
