Before There Was You

by Denise A. Agnew

  No. That isn’t going to happen now. A man wouldn’t be interested in her. Not after her revelation tonight about what she’d done to obtain good treatment from Raul.

  She followed him through the large living room down to the hallway. On the right a nightlight glowed in a guest bathroom.

  He pushed open the first door on the left and flicked the light switch. A lamp illuminated on a night stand. “You can change in here. I’ll get the sweats.”

  Feeling a bit like an intruder, she stepped into the guest room and glanced around. A rich dark wood sleigh bed, double-sized, was centered against the far wall. A fairly large window with the green shades pulled muted the flashes of lightning still forking across the sky. A dark wood dresser sat under the window. Another door opposite the bed looked like a closet. Thunder cracked.

  “Here you go.” Aaron walked in and handed her faded green sweats and a matching T-shirt with Marines printed on the front in black lettering. “They’ll be huge on you.”

  She held the bundle of clothes to her chest. “I’m not a small woman.”

  “Yeah, right.” His gaze swept her up and down. “Everything looks just right to me.”

  Heat rushed through her body as his sizzling attention seared a new path, and she tried for weak humor. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Damn.”

  His husky voice rushed over her skin and sent it prickling with awareness. Awareness of him as a breath-stealing, hot hunk made her breath catch.

  “I’ll leave you to change.” He closed the door.

  She stripped out of the clothes and into sweats and socks. She didn’t have a mirror, but he was certainly right about the sweats being way too large. The T-shirt hung over her hips, and she decided to just put on the zip-up hoodie because it was fleece and warmer. The sleeves almost hung down over her hands, but she ignored that and jumped quickly into the sweats. She cinched up the drawstring waist and grinned at the length. She usually wore at least a thirty-two or thirty-three length pants, but these were quite a bit longer. Well, what did she expect? He was over six feet. She slipped into the large socks. Okay, this would do. At least it was warm.

  She left the guest room and peeked down the hallway to the kitchen where Aaron was digging in a cabinet. “Where did you want me to put these wet clothes? The guest bathroom?”

  He looked up. “Please.”

  After hanging her clothes in the bathroom, she wandered toward the kitchen. He exited the kitchen and sprouted a smile. “Damn. Those are even bigger on you than I thought.”

  She lifted her hands up and the cuffs flopped over her fingers. “You win. They’re huge.”

  His grin didn’t fade. “Feel better?”

  She drew in a slow breath and then blew it out. “Better than what?”

  Suddenly his face was all serious. “At the group therapy. That was heavy stuff.”

  “I’m…good. Better.”

  He watched her a moment longer before returning to the kitchen. Coffee percolated, and the scent whet her appetite for a hot beverage. She slid onto a barstool at the counter.

  “It’s good decaf. Would you like some?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  As he rattled around in a cupboard, removing coffee cups and getting out the cream, she watched him move about the kitchen with a masculine grace. He wore a dry T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and white athletic socks. They were practically twins.

  He looked out at the rain spilling relentlessly down the living room window. Wind began to howl. “Since the rain has started again, you might want to hang around awhile. You’re welcome to crash here if you want.”

  The offer threw her off guard, and for a few seconds she had nothing to say. A beep alarmed from her purse where she’d left it on the couch. “Weather app on my phone.” She walked to the sofa and grabbed the phone. “Great. Severe thunderstorm. Seventy percent chance of rain.”

  “That wasn’t on the weather earlier today.”

  “Didn’t pay the weather man enough, I guess.”

  He snorted. As the coffee pot let out a last gasp, he poured two cups. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Just cream.”

  She returned to the counter and settled on the barstool. As they sipped coffee, he stood across the counter opposite her. They stayed silent until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “How do you think I handled tonight?” she asked.

  “Handled it? You did a wonderful job.”

  She wrinkled her nose and put down her coffee cup. “I think I shocked everyone.”

  He leaned on the counter, his hands cupping the edge. “Hey, it’s group therapy. It would be amazing if someone didn’t shock us at some point.” Anger boiled in his eyes. “What you went through is something no man or woman should ever have to experience. You’re a brave woman and very strong.”

  His compliment surprised her. “I’ve never felt that way.”

  The pique in his eyes dissolved, replaced by regret and maybe sadness. He lowered his forearms to the counter. “You went through a hell of an ordeal and survived. If my sisters…” He swallowed hard. “I would have lost my mind. I would have moved heaven and Earth to get them back.”

  Without a doubt she knew he would, and the conviction in his tone made that knowledge even more solid.

  She held the hot cup in both hands and sipped the steaming liquid. A shiver ran through her. “Everyone in that room has been through hell. I’m nothing special.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re determined not to accept praise, aren’t you?”

  Lana stared at the counter, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I just don’t see the big deal. Everyone has crosses to bear. You have yours, I have mine. It doesn’t make us unique.”

  He left his coffee on the counter and came around to her side. He moved in close, and his warm, clean scent sent a wave of sweet arousal through her. “A lot of people wouldn’t have survived what you did.”

  She closed her eyes. “But that woman…the woman in the hut next to me wanted to survive too. Sometimes late at night I wake up and can hear her screaming. It’s as if she’s right there in the room with me.”

  “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t torture yourself with what ifs.”

  She opened her eyes and glared. “But isn’t that what you do? Don’t you close your eyes and see that marine shooting himself right in front of you? Don’t you play the what if game? You probably play it more than I do.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I do.”

  So they stared at each other, a standoff of understanding and commiseration.

  “We’re a fucked up pair,” he said.

  She laughed, and the giggle was totally inappropriate. He laughed too. A belly laugh that made her feel better.

  When they stopped laughing, they sat still in the quiet with the aroma of coffee in the air and rain drizzling down the windows.

  “There’s one thing that’ll help us survive this.” Aaron stayed close, leaning on the counter but a touch away. “If we’re always honest with each other. Do me a favor and tell me the truth as you see it. Don’t hold back. I can’t always count on that with my family.”

  An epiphany slammed her. “I’d love that. I can’t count on it with my family or friends, either.”

  He put his hand out and they shook on it. “It’s a deal.”

  He didn’t release her, and the warm strength in his grip gave her solace. As his fingers caressed hers, a tingle shot through her palm. Aaron drew her hand up and placed it on his chest, and the heat there sent a new pulse thrumming and beating within her.

  “Our coffee is getting cold. Let’s sit on the couch.” His voice rumbled softly, a soothing masculine tone.

  He released her and they went to the couch, settling their drinks on the glass coffee table. He sat very close, but she craved his nearness.

  He sipped his drink and set it down again. He lifted his arm onto the back of the couch, and their legs bumped together. “Men frighten you
after what happened, don’t they?”

  She knew that he knew the answer. Yet she understood why he asked. “You know they do.”

  He turned to her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We made a deal to be honest, so I’ll ask a forthright question.”

  “I think you would anyway…even if we hadn’t made a deal.”

  “You got that right. When I’ve kissed you, does it frighten you? Made you uncomfortable? Does sitting this close bother you?”

  Amusement edged through her full-fledged attraction long enough for her to say, “That’s three questions. And no is the answer to all three.” She reached out and placed her hand over his. “From the moment you touched me…”

  “Yes?” His eyes burned with interest.

  “I can’t imagine any other man kissing me or touching me that way right now.”

  He gathered her hand in his palms, squeezing gently, and something hungry entered his eyes. “Here’s another piece of plain truth. I don’t like the idea of another man kissing you.”

  Answering desire rose like a hot river within Lana. “That sounds possessive.”

  He leaned in closer, and the heat in his eyes caused her stomach to do cartwheels of excitement.

  “Yeah, it is.” His voice was a deep, sensual river. “God, I’m sorry. I swear I don’t mean that in like some creepy, woman-beater way. I’d protect you with my life.”

  She knew he would. This man had honorable, protective, die-for-her written all over him, but she still feared the unknown. “My husband was possessive. He accused me of cheating on him multiple times, but I never did. He didn’t like it when I visited friends, he didn’t like it when I went anywhere without him, short of me going to work. He didn’t like it if I had friends over. I became more and more isolated as time went on, and it was so slow I didn’t realize it at first.”

  He drew her hand up to his mouth slowly and kissed her fingers. Delight shot through her hand and up her arm. Breathless, she waited for his next move, his next word. He told her about Addy’s warning, that perhaps they should cool it, and the desire swirling in her belly eased. Conflicting emotions bounced around inside her. She wished she could make up her mind—kiss him or leave him.

  “Is that what you believe?” she asked. “That we shouldn’t date or be with each other?”

  “Yes and no.”

  She grinned. “Well, that’s decisive.”

  “I’m one screwed up, confused, cranky marine, honey. I’m not sure I’ve decided anything. I do know that we both have a ways to go with this therapy.”

  “So you’ve decided the group therapy is helping you? When I first met you, you were saying that you weren’t sure you needed help.”

  “I’ve decided to stop being so stupid. Something has to give. My life isn’t rocking the way it should be, and that’s no one’s fault but mine.”

  “Do you feel you’ve made progress already?”

  He nodded, and the gentle smile on his lips proved his agreement. “Yeah, I do. A lot. Some of it is your fault.”

  Her eyebrows went up as surprise hit her. “Why?”

  “Because you’ve made me think, you’ve made me take a step back and think about someone other than myself. I’ve been wallowing and lost. I tried to keep all the bullshit I saw and did walled up inside. I figured if I just didn’t talk about it, it would go away on its own. It didn’t. When I’m around you, I feel like there’s a chance I can dig myself out of this mess.”

  A wave of tenderness came over her. She squeezed his hands. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You have so much going for you. A long and honorable career behind you, skills that could be used in so many fields. A desire to teach people history. You’ve been beat up by war and death, and that sort of thing doesn’t wear off in two seconds. Part of you is a perfectionist, right?”

  “I’ve been accused of that, yeah.”

  “You think you should ‘get over’ things fast, suck it up and show big cojones, right? No faults, not letting up.”

  He laughed, and it caused her to chuckle right along with him.

  “That could be it.” Seriousness slowly filled his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I like your directness. There isn’t anything coy about you.”

  Oh yes there is. Maybe not right this moment, not when she was on a roll. “Okay then, I’ll keep going. You’ve worked so hard to do a great job at whatever you do. You’ve had it drilled into your head by the military that there’s no try. Only do. You see your life now as a failure.”

  She saw the change ease over him, a dawning awareness. “Yeah, that’s a part of it. Like I told you, with Force Recon we don’t fail. It’s not an option.”

  That tenderness only increased. She wanted more than anything to help him. “You’re not in Force Recon anymore. You’re a civilian with new opportunities. With that comes a chance to make mistakes. It isn’t life or death anymore if you’re teaching history or doing something else out in the world. You can ease up on yourself, Aaron.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed it again. “God, I wish I’d met you a million years ago.”

  “That long?”

  His voice was so low and soft, a hushed masculine tone. “Yep. Some of what you’re saying should have been obvious as hell to me, but I guess I needed someone else to tell me…to bring it to my attention. I’ve been holding on too tight.” He rolled his shoulders and released her hands. “Way too tight.”

  “And your family…you think the way you grew up has anything to do with it?”

  “Good chance. My Dad’s a damned perfectionist too. I’ve been trying to tell him to ease up. That’s why he got the ulcer.” He returned his arm to the back of the couch. “I guess this is a case of monkey see, monkey do.”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “If you keep on going, you’ll be just like him. Scaring your family because they think you’re seriously ill, eating a hole in your stomach because of worry and stress.”

  “Last thing I want to do.”

  “Would you consider your father to be a control freak?”

  “Yeah. He gets mad when he can’t control things, including his children.”

  “People use control like that because they’re afraid. They’re afraid things will get out of control and the outcome won’t be good.”

  “That’s Dad.” He sighed. “Maybe that’s me too.”

  “Could be I’ve done the same with my family. My mother scared out of her mind by the shooting at her school…me scared out of my mind by my husband’s suicide, the kidnapping. Living in my parents reclusive, insular world didn’t prepare me for what’s out there in real life. It kept me dumb, and when bad things happened, I didn’t know how to handle them. Staying in the apartment and not going anywhere means I don’t have to deal with any of it.”

  He left the couch and walked to the fireplace mantle. She hadn’t noticed the framed photographs there. He touched one frame that surrounded a five-by-seven photograph.

  “Who is that?” she asked quietly.

  He glanced at her, then picked up the photograph and brought it to her. She took the frame and perused the good-looking young man. The resemblance to Aaron said the man was family.

  She looked up at Aaron. “Your brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s an attractive guy, just like you.”

  Aaron gave her a sad smile as he took the photo back and returned it to the mantle. “Yeah, right. He’s handsome. Me, not so much.”

  She made a little growling noise in her throat. “That’s crazy.”

  “How is it crazy?”

  More truth telling. She stood and walked toward him until she could touch the dark wood mantle. Aaron shifted nearer, and once more his nearness tingled in her blood. “I’ll bet when you walk into a room, woman of all ages look at you and think you’re hot.”

  He laughed again, and the silky deep sound caressed her. “I don’t have any evidence of that. And you know
what? I don’t care if they do. My appearance isn’t top priority to me. Besides, you thought I was scary as hell the first time you saw me.”

  “You do have an edge. It makes you scary and yet…” She swallowed hard. “Hot. It’s possible to be both, you know.”

  His smile returned as her gaze danced along his stubbled jawline, his solid shoulders, chest, and powerful arms. Her attention slid lower, taking in his trim waist, long muscular legs. Hell, yeah. The man had it going on, whether he believed it or not. Even in sweats, he had a lethal masculine potency.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, there will be consequences,” he said softly.

  She lifted one eyebrow, a playfulness coming out inside her. “Oh?”

  He moved in closer, towering over her. She felt nothing but a sweet, aching yearning for his touch. “I’ll have to jog in the rain for five miles and come back and do pushups just to make sure I don’t touch you. Maybe that won’t even stop me.”

  Her breath caught in her throat at his words, utter with conviction. “Would that be so bad? Touching me?”

  Pure masculine appreciation flared in his eyes. “Yeah, because I have a feeling I couldn’t get enough of it.”

  She was shocked any man could want her that much. Part of her didn’t believe. So she took a sip of her coffee in silence. Patters of heavy rain beat at the windows, and she felt soothed and comforted by the coziness of the apartment.

  Awkwardness invaded her, so she just said the first thing that came to her. “Is that why you exercise so much? To block things out? Is it like a drug for you?”

  “Yes. It’s a drug and very addictive. I like keeping in shape, though.”

  Once more the silence enveloped them, and the intimacy of the quiet between them threatened to overwhelm her.

  She rushed to say something. Anything. “We said we’d be friends, and I feel like we are. I’m glad.”

  “Me too. Thing is, I’m not feeling friendly right now.” He reached down to cup her face, and the sensuality of his caress sent a huge cascade of excitement dancing in her veins. “Not in the strictest sense.”

  Her heartbeat kicked up at the way his gaze devoured her. “What are you feeling?”