“And you won’t mind someone else in here, taking up your space?”
“It’d be our space.” She stepped forward and held out a hand. “Roomies?”
Veronica stared at the offered hand for a long moment before a smile broke out on her face and she wrapped her fingers around Madison’s. “Roomies.”
***
Jeremy did his best to occupy himself. He tried going for a run, but the POS gym at his complex already closed for the evening and there was no safe path to take at night in the area. Such was the problem with living in a crappy apartment in a not-great area. Next came writing, though that was a wash since his mind wasn’t in the game. He hated spending time putting down words he knew he’d delete later. It never worked out for him.
In the end, the only thing he could do was sit there and think about Madison. That hug. The way she glanced at him through the afternoon. Her subtle flirtation using game cards.
Apples to freaking Apples, for the love of God. Who flirted using a card game?
And why the hell was it so effective?
He even went so far as to clean his kitchen sink, which somehow morphed into scrubbing down the entire kitchenette, even removing the two burners and wiping under them, though he’d probably cooked on his stove a total of three times. When he was finished, the entire area sparkled, cleaner than the day he moved in. But there was zero satisfaction.
No, the only satisfaction he wanted right now came in the package of a five-foot-five Navy nurse who drove him insane. Which basically equaled no satisfaction at all. And thanks to his own stupidity, he had only himself to blame. What the heck was he thinking, brushing up against her under the table? Right in front of Tim, no less.
Clearly, Jeremy had a case of the stupids and it was Madison-induced. Nothing else could explain exactly how he could totally lose his mind and his resolve when it came to avoiding Madison O’Shay the minute he saw her in person.
His phone rang, and he resisted picking up. But it could always be work—a Marine was never truly off duty—and he glanced at the caller ID just to make sure it wasn’t the OOD calling with an issue.
His father.
Jeremy felt zero guilt hitting the ignore button. Now was really not the time for another lecture on whether he’d filled out recommitment papers or if he’d been thinking which duty station he’d like to try next. Or if he’d talked to his monitor about career options from here.
No. No. And no.
Quick convo from his end. Long argument from his father’s. Easiest to just pass, at least for now. Next weekend he couldn’t avoid the old man.
Jeremy fell to the rickety couch and grunted as his back hit the support wood below the cushions. Time to get another cheap couch. Surely some Marine was moving or something soon. He’d just keep an eye on bulletin boards and yard sale sites. Fastest, cheapest way to acquire new furniture.
What would his father say if he mentioned he was dating someone? Probably jump for joy. Just another piece of the career Marine puzzle in place. A nice, simple girl who would love to follow along in his footsteps as he moved from one side of the country to the other. One duty station to the next. Keep the kids in order while he deployed.
Someone like his mother. Or at least how his mother would have been, had she lived long enough. A mom he barely knew. Did anyone really remember anything before they were four?
He pictured telling his father he was dating a Navy nurse. And watched as the mental picture of his father’s face turned purple, steam rolling out from his imaginary ears like the smokestack of a train.
Yup. Ignore was the best option for now.
He glanced around once more at the apartment, then knew he couldn’t stay here any longer. Time to get back on his bike and go for a ride. He needed to clear his head, and stewing wasn’t going to do it. Plus, having just gotten his bike back from the shop, he couldn’t deny the need for a little speed, test her out. Get back on the horse—or rather, the hog.
Twenty minutes later, he was at the one place he never thought he would be. Madison’s apartment complex. How the hell did he end up here? This wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t even remotely where he’d intended to go.
“Stupid bike,” he mumbled as he kicked out the kickstand and stood, shaking out his legs. He had two options. Either go knock on her door—which would be the wrong choice—or head back home without telling anyone he’d been here—the smart one.
Clearly, Jeremy was done being smart. Intelligence was overrated anyway.
He knocked on the door, and Madison answered almost immediately, shock in her eyes.
“Jeremy. Hey…”
She had her sweatshirt on and a bag in her hand, like she was about to go somewhere. “Where you headed?”
“Where am I… oh.” She tossed her bag toward the couch, not caring when it fell to the floor instead with a clash of keys and change and who knew what else a woman’s purse could contain. “No, I just got back from dropping Veronica at the townhouse. Walked in the door five seconds before you knocked.”
“I see.” Yes. That’s right. Impress her with your awesome verbal skills. Woo her with your…
No. No wooing. None of that. “We need to talk.”
“Oh. So serious.” She smiled but stepped back and let him in. “Want a water?” she called as she left him in the living room and went to the kitchen.
“No, I won’t be here long.” I hope. He listened while she rummaged around in the fridge and walked back, carrying a bottle of water. “Thought Skye gave you one of those filter pitcher things.”
She glanced ruefully at the bottle of water. “I know. I’m addicted to the convenience though. Don’t tell her. It was sweet, and I use it when she’s over. And I try to use it when I think about it.”
His lips quirked. She was, at the end of the day, fiercely loyal to her family and friends. “I won’t say a word.”
“So, what’s up?” She cracked the seal and took a long drink. He watched her throat work as she swallowed twice, and his own mouth watered in response. “Jeremy?”
That snapped him out of it. “Yeah. Right.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to clarify something. I know what you’re up to.”
“Up to?” An innocent who, me? look crossed her face. So very unnatural for Madison. “You’ll have to be more specific.” She set the water bottle on the end table and unzipped her zip-up hoodie.
“Ah.” His eyes tracked the zipper’s progress, like Pavlov’s freaking dog. “Specific.”
The metal rasp filled the silence until it popped free. “Yeah. You said I’m up to something. What?”
Her hands crept back up to her shoulders and pushed the sweatshirt off, letting it droop down to her elbows, shoulders covered in thin jersey T-shirt material.
When was the last time a thick, old, battered college sweatshirt and worn T-shirt had been so sexy?
“Jeremy.”
Her voice sounded hoarse, like she’d been running outside and the cold got to her throat.
He couldn’t look at her, not like this. Turning, he made a big deal out of inspecting her couch. “This is nice. I need a new couch. Where’d you get it?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was not how he planned the conversation. Actually, he hadn’t planned it at all. Time to put the cards on the table. “Are you coming on to me?”
She chuckled behind him. “You came over here, not the other way around.” He thought she mumbled something that sounded like “this time,” but he wasn’t sure so he ignored it.
“I meant earlier. With the game.” This was stupid; he couldn’t stare at her couch the whole time. Bracing himself, he turned and took the full punch of Madison, in just her T-shirt and shorts, bare feet, arms raised while she shook out her ponytail.
> “That was a game. Apples to Apples. You play the cards you have.”
He blinked twice. “What about now?”
Arms frozen overhead, she stared at him as if he’d suggested she were an alien. “Now…”
“Right now. Look at you. You’re undressing in front of me.” Heat crept up the back of his neck, but he wasn’t going to give in, not now. He started, so he had to finish. Damn his pride. “You’re doing that sex thing with your hair and you’re taking your clothes off right in front of me and I’m not stupid.”
Her arms dropped to her sides and her eyes widened, then narrowed in a way that told him he was in deep shit.
Chapter 5
Madison crossed her arms over her chest and took a warrior stance. “Let me recap, if you don’t mind.”
“Go right ahead.” He was safe with a recap… as long as she stood on her side of the living room. If she got within lunging distance, he seriously wouldn’t give himself the benefit of the doubt.
Whether he’d be lunging to strangle her or to kiss her, he wasn’t even sure.
“You came over here. All on your own.” She grabbed her sweatshirt that she’d draped over the arm of the couch and walked to the hallway closet to hang it up. “I didn’t invite you over, and I had no clue you were coming over.”
All true. And, despite his earlier claim, stupid on his part.
“I take off my sweatshirt because it’s warm in my apartment, and I’m still fully clothed underneath.”
Maybe in the most technical sense. But her old T-shirt, from high school he would bet, might as well have been missing for all it hid. The soft, well-worn material curved around her breasts, the screen print job long since cracked and faded across her chest, only drawing the eye to places it shouldn’t go. The ragged hem stopped an inch or so before her jean shorts, revealing a pale strip of skin that he’d guess was as soft as the shirt she wore.
Fully clothed, sure. But in his mind… she might as well be naked. Since that’s how he was picturing her anyway.
But Madison clearly wasn’t aware of where his mind had drifted—thank God—because she kept going. She started to pace behind the back of the couch, making sharp turns as if she were in a parade, full uniform, rather than in the comfort of her own home. Once Mad got her steam on, you didn’t have any choice but to ride it out. “Then I take down my hair because I’m sick of having it up and it’s giving me a headache, and suddenly I’m some sex-nymph?”
“Well, I never said nymph,” he argued, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut when she turned hot eyes to his.
Damn, she was something to watch when she was pissed. He shifted his stance just a little, hoping to ease the ill-timed rising pressure in the general vicinity of his crotch.
No, no, no. That was definitely not what he needed.
“You never said nymph,” she repeated, expression stunned. “Jeremy, I think you owe me an apology.”
So did he. But that didn’t mean he was going to feel good about it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m gonna go.”
She met him at the door and put a hand on his arm. “Jeremy, we’re friends. Right?”
Friends. What a pale word to describe what he wished they could be. He swallowed that down. “Friends, yeah. Of course.”
“Don’t go away mad, please? I’ll forget it; we’ll just go on from here, okay?” She smiled so genuinely that he ached, knowing he was walking out the door instead of getting to touch her again.
“Sounds good.” And though it took way more effort than it should have, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
His duty to his father wasn’t something he could shrug off. And Madison… God love her, but she just didn’t fit into that plan.
Not to mention he had a duty to his friend—his best friend—not to screw things up with his friend’s sister. Hell, what would happen if they dated and it ended badly? Nobody would be happy.
No, he couldn’t risk that. His friends were everything to him. And Madison was a friend, as she said. He couldn’t risk losing one of his friends over something he could control.
He had enough issues in his life without pushing away people who supported him. No. He and Madison, much as he wished, were never going to work.
***
This is so working.
Madison propped her back against the door and slid down to the floor, butt plopping on the carpet, grin spreading over her face. The timing of his visit was a little ahead of her schedule, but who cared? She hadn’t expected to see Jeremy again tonight after dropping Veronica off at Tim and Skye’s place. Still high on excitement from the plans they made for the apartment while watching a movie, Madison was prepared to come home and crash.
But Jeremy showed up. And apparently had something crawling under his skin, since he came ready for a fight. Or confrontation. Or something.
Madison could think of several better uses for all that energy, but he wouldn’t be ready to hear them. Not quite yet.
But his reaction to her normal, everyday actions, like taking off her freaking sweatshirt, was the real triumph. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even meant for that to happen. Who the hell could predict a guy would drool over a freaking sweatshirt? But he clearly couldn’t help himself. And she wasn’t going to argue with that. If he got sex-nymph from her unzipping a hoodie and shaking out her ponytail, who was she to say no?
He wasn’t ready yet, she reminded herself as she stood and walked back to the bedroom to get ready for bed. Still battling some unseen demons. That was just like Jeremy, to be in his own head and not able to separate what he imagined and what was real. The man was so internal compared to the other guys it threw her off.
But she’d work that out with him if it killed them both. Which, God knew, it just might. He wasn’t one to give up once he dug his heels in. But she wasn’t one to give up a fight once she picked the battle.
It was war. And all was fair game.
***
Jeremy waited for his supply guy to call back. And waited. And waited. After calling the office and getting the Marine’s voice mail, he let the phone drop back to the cradle with a small clash.
“Damn. He knows I can’t move forward without his say-so.” Jeremy doodled on the notebook in front of him, then let his wrist go lax and sketched a little, free form, letting the pen move as it wanted.
Nonsense shapes started taking form, connected and interlocked somehow. And then he saw a profile. Profile of a dead woman. Trying his best to stay zoned out—something he’d never done before—he let his hand work, let the scene take shape. Let the pen capture as many details as possible before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He ripped the drawing out, set it aside, turned to a fresh page, and started scribbling down as many notes as possible.
Her hair. Her eye color. The expression on her face as she’d died. Body placement. Who killed her? He didn’t know yet. He’d figure that out when he got back to his apartment. But he wasn’t about to let this moment pass him by. This subconscious, glorious moment that gave him the perfect idea for a murder.
Who found her? He wasn’t quite sure.
Where was she? That much he knew, without a doubt. And he grimaced as he wrote.
In the shadows, the unlit areas behind the O Club. The place where he and Madison first kissed, so many months ago. Where he got his first taste of the forbidden fruit and realized it was sweeter than he’d ever imagined. And now that he knew, he would crave the one thing he couldn’t have like it was oxygen.
Finally, his hand started to cramp and he sat back to shake it out. Writing at the office wasn’t something he made a habit of. But with nothing to do and nowhere to go until the supply guy called, he didn’t feel guilty for taking five minutes to jot down some plotline notes.
He checked his watch.
Okay, fifteen minutes.
He stood and walked to the kitchen area down the hall to grab a bottle of water from the main refrigerator. As he walked back down, he saw someone slip into his office. Walking up, he watched as Tim circled the desk for a minute and started to shift through papers.
“Looking for something?”
Tim jolted at the sound of his voice, startled rather than guilty. “Yeah, I wanted to see if your supply guy got back to you yet.”
“No, I’m still waiting for the…” Jeremy’s throat closed up as Tim’s hand hovered over his notebook with his plot notes. Shit. What the hell…
“If you wanna head back to your office,” he said casually, pausing to take a sip of water and wash the dust from his throat, “I’ll call down at you when I get word.”
“I can wait here. Nothing going on back there.” Tim walked back around and fell into one of the chairs opposite his desk. “I hate feeling useless. The longer this year goes on, the more I feel like a desk jockey and not a real Marine.”
As his friend settled into the seat, Jeremy breathed his first full gulp of air in minutes.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. No action and all paperwork makes Jeremy a—”
“Crab ass?”
He lifted a brow at that. “Close enough.”
“Then what’s the difference when you are getting some action?” Tim laughed a little. “That came out wrong, but I guess it amounts to the same.”
Jeremy’s hands shook a little and he balled his fingers into fists. Keeping his steps calm and unassuming, he went to his own desk chair and sat down. Then, as if just now noticing how messy his desk was, he started collecting papers seemingly at random, piling them all together.
Naturally, the notebook ended up on the bottom of the pile, well hidden by the rest of the forms. Funny how that happened.
Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 6
