“Go where?” she asked with feigned innocence.
“Amy—”
“Tonight, I think I know just what you need.”
His lower half reacted to her words. Need was a strong word, but he sure as hell knew he wanted...
No, sweetheart, you don’t have a clue.
“Puppies,” Amy continued. “They have a way of making the bad memories fade away. Trust me.”
Mark forced a laugh, his body still wound up from her words—I know just what you need. He allowed her to drag him through the kennel’s reception area, down the hall and into the whelping room. He stayed close, watching as her eyes lit up when she spotted the pups jumping and spinning in their metal kennels, overjoyed to see her. Any lingering hint of sadness and self-pity faded. But Mark knew it wasn’t because he’d walked into a room full of dogs.
It was Amy.
8
“READY TO PLAY CATCH?”
Amy watched Foxtrot, her most promising pup, spin in a circle barking with excitement as Mark tossed a tennis ball across the room. The puppies raced to claim it, her top contender coming in second to his brother Charlie. Looking back at Mark, she noted his easy smile and relaxed stance. He’d been wound up tight since he’d walked into her house. She liked seeing him like this, playing with her dogs. But part of her was drawn to that tension.
Today, in the veterinary exam room, he’d looked at her as if it took everything he had to let her go without kissing her senseless. Part of her was glad he’d released her. She wasn’t ready for where his kisses would lead. First, she’d make a list. Write her own rules. Then she’d return to that moment—and maybe this time she wouldn’t hold back.
She watched as he raised his arm, corded muscle visible as his rolled-up sleeve slid to his elbow. In one swift movement, he released the ball, sending the dogs flying across the room a second time.
Amy looked away, focusing on the quiet puppy still resting on her bed. Rosie, the runt of the litter, peacefully watched Mark play with her brothers and sisters as if content with her lot in life. This pup would never make the cut. She would not fight alongside the SEALs, and Rosie seemed fine with that.
Charlie dropped the ball and raced to the whelping room door, barking and jumping up and down. The rest of the puppies followed.
Amy frowned. “Someone’s here.”
“A little late for company,” Mark said, instantly at her side.
A knock sounded on the door.
“You guys in there?” Luke called from the hall.
The Benton brothers. She should have known. Drawing the pups away from the door, she called out, “Yes. Let me get the dogs settled down, and I’ll meet you in the front room.”
Amy glanced at Mark. “Did they say anything to you about stopping by?”
Mark closed the door to Foxtrot’s kennel, tossing the pup a treat. “Nope.”
“They’re probably heading into town,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m up for it tonight.”
“Your ankle bothering you again?” Mark crossed to the door and held it open for her.
“I don’t think I can get away with that excuse two nights in a row. I plan to play the tired card,” she said, heading down the hall. “I need my beauty sleep to get through the next couple of days.”
“You were born pretty,” Mark said. “Sleep has nothing to do with it.”
Amy glanced at Mark, waiting for him to shake his head and admit the words had escaped before he knew what he was saying. But he just held the door open for her.
“Well, sleep has a lot to do with how much I can get done tomorrow,” she said before stepping into the reception/office space. Luke, Gabe and Eloise waited inside. Filled with three large, imposing men and the two women, the room felt small despite the lack of furnishings.
“Are you guys headed out?” Amy scanned the flannels and jeans both brothers had worn to construct her tent. Even her cousin still had on her work clothes.
“Nope,” Luke said, holding up a six-pack of beer. “Seeing as you missed out on the dancing last night, we decided to bring the party to you tonight. We picked up some local brew.”
“We thought you might want to avoid the crowds at the Tall Pines,” Gabe said, standing off to the side with one arm around her cousin’s waist.
“I think they guessed your ankle wasn’t the only thing keeping you off the dance floor,” Mark whispered, his breath touching her ear.
“T.J.’s out there right now, hooking up the sound system you ordered for the party.” Luke headed for the front door. “We’ll mount the speakers tomorrow, but for tonight we set a few on the ground and hooked them up.”
“What do you say?” Eloise twirled in a circle. “Up for a dance party? Just us? You already have the tent, and I gave T.J. my best playlist.”
As if on cue, Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” filled the cool night air. Amy smiled. She’d been so caught up in the opening and the stress of having the Benton brothers home that she’d forgotten what had drawn her to the Benton family in the first place. These men cared deeply for their friends and family. They wanted to see her happy, smiling and dancing.
“Pass up the chance to see my favorite representatives from the navy, army and air force on the dance floor?” Amy smiled. “Not a chance.”
Mark moved to her side. “I hope you’re not including me in that group.”
“The night’s still young.” She wanted Mark out there carefree and laughing under the tent, but she also knew he’d prefer to stick to the sidelines. Amy stepped forward and took Luke’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Luke ran hand in hand with her through the front door to the tent. Amy’s laughter bubbled and spilled over as they moved. She’d always loved to dance, but perfecting the steps had never been her top priority. Under this tent, she didn’t care if her movements matched the rhythm. Neither did Luke. He looked more like a Saturday Night Live skit of a Beyoncé music video than the real deal. If only the army MPs could see him now.
Amy threw back her head and laughed as the song ended. Another chart-topping single with a dance beat and familiar lyrics blasted through the speakers.
“That’s my cue to hand you off,” Luke said, drawing her close. He sent her twirling right into T.J.’s arms.
Amy caught the youngest Benton brother’s hand and moved close enough to be heard over the music. “I hope you got that on video.”
T.J. grinned, holding up his smartphone. “Right here. As the fifth born, I learned blackmail from an early age.”
She glanced over T.J.’s shoulder to where Luke stood holding his phone up. “I think your brother is trying for his own material.”
“Better give him something worth posting on Facebook.” Unlike his brother, T.J. found the song’s rhythm, moving as if he’d been training for a TV dance competition.
Out of breath, Amy slowed down and went to the sidelines, content to watch the T.J. show unfold. Gabe and Eloise occupied the other, darker half of the tent, dancing slow and close as if they were listening to a different soundtrack.
“You look good out there,” Mark said, when she stopped beside him.
“I forgot how much fun these guys are.” She glanced at Mark. He stood with one foot crossed over the other, his shoulder leaning against the tent’s side pole. In one hand, he held a bottle of beer. While she’d spun and twirled as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she’d felt his gaze on her. For so many years, he had been on the edge of the crowd, watching and waiting, always keeping an eye on his friends. But tonight, it felt like more. Hot. Possessive.
“They want to see you happy.” Mark nodded to T.J. and Luke, who had both stopped to open a beer.
“I know.” She moved closer to Mark. “But not in the same way you do, I’m guessing.”
He lowered his drink, his gaze focused on her, so intense she felt a ripple of wanting. “I sure as hell hope not.”
She stepped closer, stealing the bottle from his hand. “And just how would you g
o about making me happy?”
She raised the beer to her lips and took a long drink.
“I think you have a pretty good idea,” Mark murmured.
“Tell me.”
“Here?”
She nodded, every muscle on edge waiting for him to refuse and walk away. He glanced over her shoulder as the music changed again. And then he placed his hand on her hip, drawing her close.
Lowering his head, his lips touched her ear. “I’d bring you dog toys.”
She drew back. “Is that the best you can do?”
“I’m not done yet.” He held her gaze, heat replacing the laughter in his brown eyes. “Once the dogs were occupied, I’d lead you into the exam room and finish what we started. I’d kiss you, stripping you down. And I wouldn’t stop there. I would explore every damn curve, learning where to touch you to make you scream my name.”
“Wow,” she murmured. “That’s quite the fantasy. Beats a dance party.”
“Yeah.” Mark stepped away, breaking contacting. “Just a fantasy.”
She handed the beer back to Mark, her fingers brushing against his. She wanted to hold them there, prolong the touch. But she drew back, shoving her hands in her pockets. Out here, in the cool night air, his words fresh in her mind, it was easy to wonder about the possibilities.
“I’m making a new list,” she said. “A list of rules. I want...”
To kiss him, touch him... She wanted the fantasy.
“I get it, Amy.” His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.
“Amy, get your butt over here and dance,” T.J. called as a classic from the eighties blared through the speakers.
“Go,” Mark said, lifting his beer to his lips. “This is your night. Dance.”
She raised an eyebrow, her hips swaying to the beat as she stepped toward the dancing Benton brothers. “Join me?”
“Out there?” He raised an eyebrow. “No chance. But I’ll be watching you.”
“One day,” she called over her shoulder as she twirled away, joining Luke and T.J. on the makeshift dance floor. “You’ll join me. I’ll get you off the sidelines.”
* * *
MARK WATCHED AMY raise her arms over her head, jumping up and down. He’d heard the song before, but he didn’t focus on the lyrics—only Amy—his gaze drifting to the rise and fall of her breasts. It was as if her beauty came alive when she was happy. And it went beyond pretty. Amy was hot and sexy in a way that made him want the things he’d spelled out for her.
Amy, her eyes shining bright, her smile wide and genuine, looked over at him. Raising one eyebrow, she held his gaze. Her words from earlier echoed in his mind. Amy wanted to pull him off the sidelines, but where did she want to take him? How far did she want to go?
Mark drained the rest of his beer. He should walk up to the house now and leave Amy to the impromptu party thrown in her honor. But he held back. The song ended, replaced by a classic dance number from their high school days. The ladies on the dance floor screamed with joy and flung themselves into another round of frenzied movement. Mark watched and waited. The way her hips moved—it was pure torture.
Four songs later, Amy rested her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.
“Guys, I’m afraid I have to call it a night. This was a great idea. Thank you. But we have a big day tomorrow.”
There was a chorus of good-nights. Eloise pulled Amy close for a hug as Gabe helped his brothers pack up.
“I’ll walk you up to the house,” Mark said.
Amy looped her arm through his, drawing him in against her side. He stilled, fighting the rising riptide of longing. If he wasn’t careful, the Benton brothers would take one look at him and know he wanted Amy in a way that had nothing to do with friendship.
Amy gave a tug, propelling him into motion. Side by side, they walked out of the tent and into the dark night. Jango fell in line at her other side as if he, too, had been waiting and watching Amy, unable to walk away.
Mark looked up at the house, focusing on their destination. She’d left the porch light on, and it glowed like a beacon, welcoming them home.
“Would you like a nightcap?” She released his arm at the front door to pull out her keys.
“What did you have in mind?” Mark asked, knowing it was a bad idea. He should say good-night and head straight for a cold shower.
She opened the door, holding it for Jango. “I have a bottle of whiskey that Eloise left here. But I was thinking of making hot cocoa.”
“With marshmallows?” Mark followed her inside, closing the door behind him and turning the bolt.
“Of course.” Amy led the way to the kitchen. “You can’t have hot cocoa without marshmallows.”
“I’m in.”
Mark rested his hip against the kitchen counter while she turned on the kettle and removed the ingredients from the cupboard.
Turning to him, she held up the box. “It’s a mix. Nothing fancy.”
“Works for me.” Right now, everything about her worked for him.
She smiled and went back to work, selecting mugs. The kettle whistled, and she filled the mugs, handing him a cup along with a bag of marshmallows. “Add as many as you want.”
Mark added several to his cup before settling into a chair at the kitchen table. Amy sat beside him, raising her mug to her lips.
“Perfect,” she said, staring at the melting marshmallows. “You know, in those first few months, I made a cup of cocoa every night. Then I’d sit here and email you.”
Mark took a long drink as he pictured her typing away, her eyes filled with the ever-present sorrow he’d seen during their Skype sessions back then. But slowly it had faded.
“You stopped sending memories,” he said. “About six months ago.”
“You noticed.” She lowered the mug, a line of hot chocolate on her upper lip.
His gaze locked on her mouth. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her lips clean.
She shrugged. “I guess I was done living in the past. What about you? Do you still write them down?”
“No.” He’d done so in the beginning only to help her. But the truth was he hated reliving his childhood. Thinking about all those days spent hiking with Darren, playing with the Benton family dogs or sitting down to dinner at their table, reminded him how much he’d wished for a family like theirs. Their lives and their happiness seemed so damn effortless. And the worst part was that Darren had understood. From the time they were six years old, right up until when they’d joined the military, each seeking his own path, Darren had tried to make Mark feel as if he belonged, as if he were part of the family.
Amy set her mug down and reached for his hand. “It was a good idea, Mark. It helped me find my way through it all.”
He stared at their joined hands. “Must have been, if you started a new list.”
Her fingers pressed against his skin. “This one’s different.”
“I know.” He felt her drawing closer.
“I’m writing the rules this time.” Her blue eyes lit with excitement as if the power to control her destiny was a present she’d only now begun to unwrap. Unable to look away, Mark saw the moment desire rose up to meet her newfound joy.
He withdrew his hand and reached for his hot cocoa, downing the remains of the lukewarm liquid. “I should go.”
Mark pushed back from the table and stood. But Amy followed, stepping close, invading his space. Her hands rose, and before he could move away, he felt her palms touch his face.
He froze, not daring to move. He didn’t even blink, just stared down at her. There was a question in her eyes, but it was one he couldn’t answer. This had to be her choice. The pulsing need building in him, the desire to wrap his arms around her and taste her—that had no place in this silent conversation.
Her gaze narrowed in on his lips, her body shifting toward his, closing the gap but stopping short of pushing up against him. Rising onto her tiptoes, she touched her lips to his.
Mark closed hi
s eyes, his hands forming tight fists at his sides. Her lips moved over his. He felt her tongue touch his lower lip as if asking for more. Unable to hold back, he gave in, opening his mouth to her kiss, deepening it, making it clear that this kiss was not tied to an offering of friendship and comfort.
Amy’s hands moved over his jaw, running up through his hair. Pulling, tugging, holding his mouth tightly against hers. He groaned. She tasted like chocolate—sweet and delicious. He wanted more, so damn much more.
Her fingers ran down the front of his shirt, moving lower and lower. His body hardened, ready and wanting.
The thought of her hand on his cock...
He reached for her wrist, gently drawing her away. She looked up, her blues eyes brimming with uncertainty.
“Amelia Mae.” He leaned closer, his lips touching her ear, allowing her to hear the low growl of need in his voice. “Let me know when you’ve written your rules.”
* * *
AMY MENTALLY CATALOGED the familiar sounds of her house as her mind raced to catch up with what she’d done. Mark’s footsteps on the wood, the sound of the guest room door opening and closing, the click of Jango’s nails on the floor as he moved off his dog bed—
I kissed Mark!
She stumbled back a step and sank into her chair. Jango rested his head on her lap, waiting and ready to help her.
“I kissed Mark.” Saying the words out loud did little to diminish her shock. Yes, she’d thought about it, wanted it, but doing it? Jango nosed her hand as if unsure if she needed comfort or saving at that moment. She wasn’t sure herself.
In the walls, the pipes rattled to life. He’d turned on the shower.
“And I sent him running for a cold shower,” she whispered.
A slow grin formed on her lips. She could picture him standing under the cool spray, every muscular inch stripped bare. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the chair, holding her place, preventing her from invading his shower. The thought of joining him, licking the water off his chest, his abs, nearly propelled her out of the chair and down the hall.
Was he wondering the same thing? Imaging how her mouth would feel on his skin as he stood there?
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