“Seeing Mrs. Conway? I do, and good for them.”
They rode in unusual silence to the motel. Jenny kept thinking about Karen Conway. She wanted to write Karen’s story. She might never submit it, but the story was already writing itself in her head.
Anna also kept popping into her head. She’d looked so forlorn being all alone, while the other dogs interacted. She’d seemed so content and hopeful when she’d settled down in Jenny’s lap.
They reached their motel a few minutes before ten and went into Travis’s room. Someone had been in the rooms and turned down the bed. She hesitated at the door. She wanted to talk to him now, to discuss the interview, but she wanted to call her sister first. She hoped Lenore liked dogs. It seemed strange that she didn’t know.
“I should make a phone call,” she said.
He had a question in his eyes, but he nodded. It was one of the many things she liked about him.
She went through the connecting door to her room and closed the door behind her. She took her cell from her purse and punched her sister’s number. It was late, but she knew her sister often worked late on paperwork.
Lenore answered almost immediately. “Are you all right?” she asked with obvious concern.
“Yes, of course.”
“I tried to call you several times,” Lenore said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t checked my messages. Is anything wrong?”
“No, except our father is raising holy hell about you running around with a stranger and a bad shoulder. I thought I would warn you.”
“I’ve been in war zones, for Pete’s sake,” Jenny replied. “I can certainly take care of myself here. Sorry to be out of touch. I’m not used to people worrying about me, especially my father. You, on the other hand, are welcome to worry. But I’m fine. Better than fine.”
“You sound happy.”
“I am happy. I’m onto several good stories. But the reason I called is, well, how do you feel about dogs?”
“I like them, why?”
“Can you have dogs at the condo?”
“Yes. Charlie always wanted...”
“I might know the perfect dog,” Jenny said before Lenore could finish. “It’s small, house-trained, not really active and very affectionate.”
“What kind is he?” Lenore asked.
“An affenpinscher,” she said. “You’ve probably never heard of them. I hadn’t. She’s black, with a face that looks a little like a monkey with white whiskers.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one, except she’s not a puppy. More like middle-aged. But that’s a good thing. As I said, she’s house-trained. Very affectionate. Someone found her on a road in Texas, but the person who has her now is a professional dog trainer and vouches for her health and good manners.” The words rushed out of her mouth, and she wasn’t sure about the good manners, but she felt a little exaggeration was acceptable.
She sensed some hesitation on the other side of the line, but she was sure that once Charlie saw Anna, she would fall in love.
“How will you get her here?”
“I’m sure my driver will be happy to bring her.” She crossed her fingers as she said the words.
“Who is this person?”
“Travis Hammond. He’s an army major who is doing a study for the mayor of Covenant Falls and her husband.” She was stretching the truth again, but the description made the trip sound official.
“Good-looking?”
“You could say that.”
“Nice?”
“Patient,” Jenny corrected.
“Sexy?”
And how. “Some might say so,” she replied, trying to keep her voice analytical.
“Hmm,” her sister said. “About the dog, I’m not making any promises. If it doesn’t work out, she’ll be your responsibility. You will have to find a new home.”
“I’ll do that,” she assured her sister. “But don’t say anything to Charlie. I have a few things to work out.” She said good-night and hung up before Lenore changed her mind.
She stared at the phone. It had been a totally irresponsible thing to do. Maybe Covenant Falls and all its dogs and horses were getting to her. She had always steered away from anything that reeked of permanence. But flying away alone to a foreign shore no longer had the allure it did a year ago.
She should call back and say she’d simply had one too many glasses of wine and to forget it.
She couldn’t do it.
What was happening to her?
She’d never let anything stand in the way of her career before.
Certainly not a silly little dog.
Or a major who didn’t know what he would be doing next month.
Now where in the hell did that come from?
She turned toward the door. She’d shut Travis off to make the call. She should apologize. She knocked lightly on his door. Maybe he had gone to bed. It had been a long day.
He didn’t answer immediately. She tried again, her knock louder, and he opened the door. His hair was wet. All of him was damp, and he smelled wonderful. His only covering was a towel wrapped around his middle.
His chest, upper arms and left leg were riddled with scars. But what she really saw was the pain he must have endured.
She looked up at him and smiled. “You’re beautiful,” she said.
The words escaped her before she could reclaim them. But, to her, he was. The scars on the lean, muscular body were hard-earned. Badges of honor and courage.
And he really was a fine specimen of manhood.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TRAVIS STARED AT her in astonishment.
The towel started to fall. He grabbed it and clutched it around his middle. Heat clawed up his neck.
To his surprise, Jenny grinned, her eyes full of mischief. “I haven’t seen you speechless before,” she said, then added politely, “May I come in?”
He was too stupefied to answer immediately. His brain kept coming back to the word beautiful. After a few seconds of standing like a statue, he said, “I think you have,” he said.
“Only if you move a few inches.” Her eyes sparkled. “I just wanted to thank you. It was a nice evening. You were very tolerant of my butting in. It would be rude not to express my appreciation.”
He detected amusement under the explanation for her late visit, and it did nothing for the sudden movement under the towel.
“I appreciate the thought,” he said, just as formally, “but I didn’t think you rude. Your curiosity comes naturally. However, your apology is accepted,” he added.
“I think I’m going to withdraw it,” she said with that engaging sense of humor that always startled him. “You’ve been rude standing there and not inviting me inside.” Mischief practically danced in her eyes. Despite his discomfort at her seeing the scars he usually tried to cover, he couldn’t help but chuckle. He never knew what was going to pop out of her mouth.
“Beautiful?” he finally got out. He hadn’t been able to erase the word from his brain.
“Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,” she recited with dignity before she started laughing. “And yeah, beautiful. You have great muscles.”
He raised an eyebrow. He had no idea how to respond to that, but he tried. “I don’t usually entertain when I’m...not dressed.”
“A pity,” she said. “But you did open the door.”
“I thought...there might be a problem,” he defended himself. “You were knocking hard...maybe another nightmare.”
“I wasn’t knocking that hard,” she retorted.
“Hard enough,” he said, trying to keep himself a step ahead. She smiled, and he suddenly realized what he’d said. He suspected his face was even more flushed. Hell, he felt like a school boy.
“I tho
ught you had gone to bed,” he said.
“I had to call my sister before it got too late.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, I just had a few questions I wanted to ask her.”
He should have known she wouldn’t have just gone to bed. He shouldn’t have dashed to the shower after she left. It was a trip that was becoming all too frequent. He should have grabbed some clothes before opening the door.
He clutched the towel closer to his body. “I have to put some clothes on,” he said.
“You’re fine, but if you would be more comfortable...”
He’d thought no woman could stomach what had happened to his body, the scars left by pieces of a rocket. But then Jenny had experienced combat herself, even if she’d been an observer rather than a participant. Maybe the wound made her a participant.
Still, he couldn’t believe that any woman would actually be comfortable with the scars.
As if reading his thoughts, Jenny touched his chest and ran a finger down it, arousing all sorts of reactions. “I like your face a lot, too,” she said seriously.
Damn, but she knew how to get inside his head. “Are you finished with your survey?”
“I’m getting there,” she said. “I have a few scars of my own, you know. In a way, they’re liberating. I don’t have to try to be perfect anymore.” She paused. “Not that I ever was. My hair is too red and uncontrollable, I have freckles and my body has always been like a stick. But as long as the majority of my body parts work, even if some not so well, I plan to make the most of it. If anyone is put off by it, then they’re not worth knowing.” The last comment came with emotion. For him, as well as for her.
She’d obviously remembered what he’d said about his ex-fiancé. She would have made a damn good psychologist herself, he thought while still hanging on to the towel.
He wanted to kiss the stubborn, honest, funny, passionate woman in front of him. He wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything.
But he also knew how foolish it would be. Despite all his attempts to do otherwise, his heart was already becoming involved. He looked into those emerald green eyes with so much passion in them. Passion for the moment, passion for life. Maybe even for him. But he reminded himself she had a greater passion beyond him.
She was a free spirit and took pride in it. She’d made it clear that her career meant everything to her, that the world fascinated her, and she wanted to be in the midst of action.
Small towns like Covenant Falls and Raton interested her for a day or two, but then her curiosity would take her to other places. He would be a fool to think the relationship could go beyond a kiss or a few nights, and he didn’t want that with her. It wouldn’t be enough.
She was looking up at him, and he realized he was still the next thing to naked and his anatomy was not being cooperative at the moment.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
He went into the bathroom, gratified that he’d left his pants there in his haste to take a cold shower. He needed something more than the towel. Pants. Shirt. A space suit, if he had one. He looked in the mirror after he put on the pants, dashed cold water on his face and took a deep breath. Then, more in control—he thought—he returned to the room. She was sitting on the bed, looking at a book he’d brought with him.
“You like suspense novels,” she observed. “So do I.”
“I suspect you like everything.”
His gaze was drawn to her face. She wasn’t beautiful in a classic way, but she was so damned alive and...honest. He would never forget the way she’d blurted out that he was beautiful. It wasn’t exactly true, but he knew that, at that moment, she thought so.
She looked irresistible propped up on stacked pillows. Hell, she’d been irresistible since he’d met her. Her humor. Her competence, mixed with whimsy. Her acceptance of everyone she met for who they were, not what she wanted or expected them to be.
He had known her only a few days, but he felt as if he’d known her far longer.
She looked up, those green eyes searching his, and he was a goner. The distance he’d been trying to keep between them had narrowed every hour since he’d met her. Now it was paper-thin. He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “I like you,” he said. “A lot.”
“I’m annoying,” she stated. “I talk too much.”
“You do talk a lot,” he teased, “but I’m getting used to it.”
“That’s gracious of you,” she said, the light words belying the quickly rising temperature in the room. He held out his good hand and pulled her to him. Her chin tilted up, until she was looking directly into his eyes.
Desire sparked between them. Despite an inner voice warning him not to get more involved with Jenny for a number of reasons, he ran his fingers over her face, exploring every curve. He then encircled her with his arms and did what he’d wanted to do since he met her. Ignoring all the warnings in his head, he leaned down, and his lips brushed hers. It was tentative. Searching. Tender yet sensuous. Every nerve in his body seem to come alive. He saw the same response in her face as she leaned into him.
Jenny’s arms tightened around his neck as his kiss deepened and his good hand traced patterns along the back of her neck. She tried to breathe as she looked up at him. Sexual magnetism radiated between them. Her heart jolted at the strength of it. She tried to tame the dizzying currents racing through her body.
The need to touch him, feel him and make love with him was irresistible. The sparks that had glowed between them flared, enveloping them in a circle of heat. She lost herself in his touch, in the feel of his aroused body against hers. His hands moved along her neck as his mouth explored hers ever so slowly. She sensed he was only barely holding on to control.
So was she. She swallowed hard and told herself to pull away, to leave the room and close the door behind her. She was terrified of the feelings welling up inside her. She didn’t want to be in love. Love was a trap. She kept trying to convince herself of that.
But she couldn’t leave. Dammit, she wanted his touch, his kisses. She wanted to feel that tenderness in him wrap around her. For the first time she could remember, she wanted to feel real intimacy, the kind that came with caring. Not just sex, but something so much stronger.
She reached up on her toes so their bodies fit together. The kiss became frantic, exploding until they were so wrapped together she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
His hands moved up and down her back, soothing, enticing. Then his fingers started to unbutton her blouse, and he saw her scars, the puckered area around a long scar where the shrapnel tore into it, and cleaner ones that came from a surgeon’s scalpel.
“You forgot to duck, too,” he said with that crooked smile of his.
He touched it with such tenderness, she could barely breathe. Her body reacted to his touch, trembling slightly as he unhooked her bra and then caressed her breasts, until they were taut and swollen. He leaned down and kissed each breast, and then he reluctantly drew back.
He cradled her against his chest and kissed her again, slow and lingering. When their lips parted, he looked down at her, and their gazes locked on each other.
“I’m afraid I’m becoming addicted to you,” he said softly.
She smiled gloriously. “Ditto,” she said.
“I want you. Probably too much.”
“Why too much?”
“Because after this week, we’ll both be heading in different directions.”
“True.”
“What are we going to do?” he asked, leaving it up to her.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, weighing each word. “I like everything about you. I like the way you help friends and take care of your young soldier. I like the way you’re so serious and yet indulge my more quirky side. I like your face, especially when you smile. I like the way people instinctively t
rust you. I like the way you kiss. I like all those things and not necessarily in that order.” She stopped. “Do you want me to go on?”
He stopped her there. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue playing with hers as the temperature in the room went from hot to steaming. His hands moved up and down her back, and her body trembled with the need he was creating.
A small purr came unbidden from her throat, and she drew him closer. Their bodies clung together, a deep need binding them.
Jenny had never been in love before, but she knew it was knocking on her door now, and it scared the wits out of her. Her career was her life. The fierce drive to be independent overrode everything else. She didn’t want the confines of a marriage or even a committed relationship. There was nothing that terrified her more.
But when Travis kissed her, bells she didn’t think existed rang long and loud. When he touched her, electicity ran through her body.
No! She wasn’t going to let it happen.
She stiffened, and he went still.
“Second thoughts?” he asked as he searched her face.
Their gazes met, and she knew he saw the struggle in hers.
“Do you read minds, too?” she asked.
He kissed her lightly, although she saw the rigidity of his body as he backed off. “No, but you already told me you never stay anywhere long. You don’t like ties.”
She couldn’t speak for a moment. He was right about that. But for the first time, she entertained the idea of staying in one place a little longer. But would she go crazy in a month? Maybe six months? She needed challenges like she needed air to live.
He stepped back and took her hand. He studied her steadily. “Sit down and talk to me,” he said.
They sat on the bed. Desire was still pounding inside her. But she knew she could never have a one-night stand with him. Or even a few nights. It would be too hard to leave. She knew that, too.
She was falling in love with him, and it was moving too fast. She would only hurt him. And herself.
“You were right,” she said and hated the trembling in her voice. “I will be gone. So will you.”
The Soldier's Homecoming Page 19
