He couldn’t keep from smiling. She was too cute to be effective at intimidation.
Apparently realizing her scold was getting her nowhere, Mara dropped into the molded plastic chair at his bedside, laying her hand on his forearm. “Don’t be a martyr, Sean. You’re a medic and know better than anyone that until the shrapnel comes out of your leg, which should have come out before you ever came stateside, it’s going to hurt. Be a tough guy after they get it out in surgery tomorrow or when you start your rehab.” She took the controller and pressed it into his palm, wrapping both of her smaller, much softer hands around his larger, rougher, scarred one.
“I hate the way the morphine makes me feel fuzzy headed and out of it.”
“One more night, Sean, then the metal that’s causing your pain will be gone and you can go back to being a badass Green Beret.” She leaned forward and added, “You need it to rest, honey.” Flexing her hands around his, she squeezed him tight. “Do it for me, please?”
Despite his pain, the way she gazed up at him with those big eyes, begging him in her sweet lilting voice, made him think of inappropriate things, like her in club gear, pink leather to be exact and prettily begging for his cock. As if on cue, his dick twitched. He was glad for the wad of sheet tangled around his hips. Not wanting her to think he was another lonely—and horny—G. I., he rolled forward, hiding his erection deeper in the linens just in case.
Clearing his throat, he posed a question he’d asked before. “If I cooperate, do I get the date I’ve been angling for?”
“That’s blackmail, Sergeant.”
“So is gazing at me all soft and sweet while batting those long lashes.”
She smiled with a little laugh, inclining her head as if to say, “Touché.”
“So, about that date?”
“I don’t know. We’re not supposed to fraternize with patients. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“I won’t be a patient when we go out, Mara.”
When her eyes twinkled and she bit her bottom lip, he knew he had her.
“Okay, you push the little red button and I’ll go out with you, Sean.”
His thumb barely moved, though the beep that followed indicated a dose of morphine had been delivered.
She grinned as she ran her hand up his forearm to his shoulder and squeezed. “Sweet dreams, big guy. I’ll check back in a bit.”
“If I dream of you, nightingale, they will be very sweet.”
She shook her head as she moved away. While she did, his gaze dipped to the ass of her pale blue scrubs. The sight of the snug cotton hugging her round cheeks was better than any narcotic. He followed the sway of her hips as she walked to the door. No doubt she’d go through the same routine with her next patient. Lying back against his pillows, he wondered if the next poor slob got the extra touch, the caress or the squeeze he foolishly hoped was reserved solely for him. At the door, she glanced back and smiled, before moving on down the hall. Out of sight, though certainly not out of mind, he closed his eyes and had a wonderful sex and morphine-laced dream about his favorite nurse.
* * * * *
So happy she wanted to skip through the parking garage, she dialed it back to a brisk walk, trying to show some decorum as she entered the employee entrance and clocked in for her shift. Her thoughts weren’t focused on work, rather on the tall, muscular and devastatingly handsome Sergeant, who’d been in her care for the past week.
Arriving on her unit, she locked up her purse and jacket, and rather than going to say hi to Sean, as she wanted to, she went to the conference room to listen to the off going shift’s report. Most of the team was already assembled. In turn, they took notes on their assigned patients and left one by one. She had the 800 hall on 5E, the surgery ward, as always, so her patients came last. Beginning with Corporal Evans in 801, Mara scribbled pertinent information on the patient in each subsequent room. Waiting expectantly for 810, she stiffened when it was skipped. Stopping the recording, she hit rewind, thinking that maybe she’d missed it. Again 809 was followed by 812. Her nurse manager was posting notices on the bulletin board before going off shift.
“Nancy? Do you know what happened to Sergeant O’Brien? Rosemary skipped him.”
“No, she didn’t. He was discharged today.”
Like a pin in a balloon, she deflated. “I thought it wasn’t planned until tomorrow.”
“His team came to visit and he insisted. Dr. Bryson agreed, so they took him home. You should have seen them. Each one was like Sergeant O’Brien: drop dead gorgeous, six feet something and two hundred pounds plus of rippling, bulging Green Beret muscle. All the nurses were drooling, some of the male nurses too, and nothing got done on the unit until they were gone.”
Disappointed didn’t begin to describe how she felt. He didn’t have her phone number or address and hadn’t offered her his. Maybe it was merely flirtation with the nurse on duty and he hadn’t ever intended to take her out. Heaven knows it happened all the time. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been proposed to in the six years she’d worked there. Dejected, she finished up and with a much heavier tread, walked out on the ward to start her shift.
It was after her supper break, during which she hadn’t eaten, having no appetite whatsoever, when she was called to the nurses’ station. As she walked up, the unit secretary grinned and pointed to a huge bouquet of flowers.
“What’s the occasion, lucky girl, and who’s the lucky guy?”
A few of the other nurses were hanging around waiting for her to open the card. She could only stare, never having received flowers before—ever. Mixed among the dozen classic long-stem red roses were five exquisite white calla lilies and some sort of greenery all in a crystal vase. With a trembling hand, she reached for the card.
My beautiful nightingale,
Thank you for the tender care. You brightened each day with your smile and eased my pain with your laughter, making it all more bearable.
My team came for me, so I took the out and ran. Okay, I hobbled out on my crutches, I’m only sorry I missed you, though I didn’t need to say goodbye because we have a date.
You’re off on Tuesday. Geri the day shift charge nurse confirmed it, so no excuses. Marcel’s in the west end. 7 o’clock.
Wear a pretty dress and I’ll consider myself a very lucky man.
Sean
A lucky man, she sighed. Rereading the card, she noticed he’d included his phone number. Relief, excitement, giddiness all ran through her at once, as well as underlying fear. It all seemed so normal, well, to other women her age surely. Could it be possible, just once, she could be like a normal twenty-six year old woman and have a normal relationship with a man? Filled with hope, she read the sweet note yet again.
“Well?” Wendy and Pen demanded simultaneously.
Beaming, Mara put her nose to one of the roses and inhaled. She folded the note and slipped it in her pocket, then mimicked zipping her lips and turning a key before she went down the hall to make her rounds.
“Hey, no fair!” Wendy called after her.
Pen added, “We’re old married ladies who have no life. If we can’t get romance vicariously through you single girls, what hope do we have?”
She smiled over her shoulder, staying quiet as a mouse, except for the silly tune she whistled as she turned down the 800 hall.
Chapter Two
The cab fare from her apartment in Hyattsville was $28, her dress from the consignment shop in town was $40 and the almost new shoes nearly as much. The sum total cost of her date with Sean would be half her grocery money until payday. As she stood outside Marcel’s, a renowned five-star French restaurant, butterflies danced in her stomach, not from excitement, but from unease. It appeared exactly as she remembered. Would anyone recognize her after eight, no, nine years? She was older, needless to say, and a few inches taller, more filled out—womanly—and her natural medium brown hair had been long ago replaced by Nice and Easy 10CB, Natural Ultra-Light Champagne blonde. S
he’d only been a girl when Victor—
“Mara?”
Her heart nearly stopped at the sound of her name. With a tentative sideways glance, she sighed with relief when she saw Sean slamming the door of his cab a ways down the block.
Turning, she greeted him with a smile and a little wave. Even from this distance, she could see the warmth in his blue eyes. As he maneuvered on his crutches amidst the busy foot traffic, she had the chance to study him. The light gray suit coat barely contained his broad shoulders. Underneath, the black dress shirt was open at the collar, exposing his strong neck and a hint of smooth muscled chest. Further down, she saw his pant leg was split up the inseam to allow for his cast. He’d secured it with two rubber bands to keep it from flapping. As he approached, she admired how graceful he appeared gliding like an old pro on his crutches only a week after surgery. He looked good, strong and healthy, his color returned, and the ear-to-ear grin on his handsome face told her he was happy to see her.
Stopping in front of her, she noticed right off, he smelled good. Not cologne, but a clean, fresh masculine scent that invaded her senses.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No, my cab just dropped me off.”
“Good.” His blue eyes sparkled. “When you didn’t call me, I was worried you wouldn’t show.”
“We made a deal, didn’t we? Drugs for dinner.”
Two patrons entering the restaurant overheard and scowled their disapproval.
He chuckled. “Put that way it sounds terrible.”
“Oops,” she responded with a quiet giggle. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They were beautiful, still are, actually, especially the calla lilies.”
“I was hoping you’d like them. The florist thought it an odd combination. I thought they went nicely with the roses, if a bit unusual.”
She blinked. “You went in person to pick them out?” While certainly not well versed in how a man ordered flowers, she assumed one called an order in or went online.
He also looked surprised. “Is there any other way?”
She smiled. “Exactly how long were you deployed, Sergeant?”
“I’ve been active duty for twelve years, so twelve years.”
“I don’t suppose they had 1-800-flowers before you left. I appreciate the personal touch, Sean. I’m not used to it.”
Again, surprise flashed across his face. “What’s the matter with men in D.C.? A gorgeous, sweet girl like you should have been scooped up a long time ago. Lucky for me they’re all either stupid, or blind.”
“Yeah, lucky for you.”
He grinned down at her. “Before we go in, I need to ask a favor.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a tie. “Can you? I’m out of practice and they won’t let me in without it.”
“I’m no expert, although I think I can manage.”
Stepping in close, she flipped up his collar, slipped the silk tie around his neck, and quickly tied a perfect Windsor knot on the first try.
“No expert, my casted foot. You could have done that in the dark, baby. Who taught you, your dad, an old boyfriend?”
Although the sound of ‘baby’ in his deep baritone warmed her insides, her smile faded as an ugly memory, long since suppressed, invaded her mind. “Both I suppose,” she murmured. “Shall we go in, I’m starving.”
As she turned toward the entrance, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his brows gather and his full lips turn down. She moved forward, as if nothing was wrong. That part of her life did not exist for her anymore.
* * * * *
Observing her closely throughout the evening, he found her charming, witty and as beautiful as he remembered, although there were shadows in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. At least, he hadn’t noticed them. Maybe he’d been off his game due to the morphine. It made him foggy-headed and obtunded. He hated it, but it had been a necessary evil postop. Since leaving the hospital, it had been ibuprofen, nothing more.
He noticed she seemed edgy, glancing toward the door every time new customers came in as if expecting someone. And when a crash echoed from the kitchen, she jumped, nervous as a cat. He’d half expected to see her clinging by her claws from the ceiling. She waved him off when he asked if anything was wrong, denying there was. Even so, Sean sensed there was something.
For their meal, she deferred to him, saying she wasn’t picky and was having a difficult time choosing. He selected seared scallops and red snapper, butternut squash and new potatoes. For dessert, she offered her opinion with a wrinkled, cute upturned nose at the chef’s signature chocolate ganache and the blood orange Napoleons, nodding in relief when he suggested the pineapple and ginger spice cake as an alternative.
After the waiter left, she admitted, “I didn’t know what half of that was, but blood oranges sounded disgusting. Pineapple cake, I understand.”
“Not a purveyor of haute cuisine?”
She laughed, with a musical quality to the lovely sound. “I’m an LPN, Sean, know what that means?”
“Uh, I thought I did, although from the look on your face I’m guessing I’m wrong, so tell me.”
“It means ‘low paid nurse’ and with the cost of living in D.C., the only thing French I eat are fries and toast.”
His smile quickly faded, replaced by concern. “I should have asked where you lived before picking a place. I’m sorry. How much did the cab fare set you back? I’ll cover it.”
“I didn’t tell you hoping for a handout, Sean. I’m fine, really. I live in Hyattsville, which is about thirty minutes away.”
“Do you drive to work every day?”
She shook her head. “I take the bus. It’s not so bad.”
“Is that safe? You get off after midnight.”
She shrugged. “Do you know what rent is in the city? More than my monthly salary, so I commute. I’m used to it, but enough about me. What are your plans while you’re recuperating?”
He didn’t appreciate the change in subject, though he let it slide. If they continued to see each other, he’d have to scope out her apartment and the bus service, no woman of his was going to ride the bus in the middle of the night and place herself in danger. You’re thinking too far ahead, he warned himself. One dinner does not make a relationship. Yet, with only a few encounters, there was something about her that drew him in. And he knew instinctually what it was.
She was submissive.
The soft voice, the frequently lowered lashes when he asked something personal, deferring to him to order dinner, even the career she’d chosen said a lot. Nursing was a respected profession, but it was a role subordinate to an authority figure, although he’d never be stupid enough to describe it that way to her. Taking orders and directions from another, the caretaking and nurturing involved and the people pleasing, all seemed to point in a submissive direction.
It didn’t make her weak, by any means, it was simply her nature. It would take a bit more observation, some probing questions and if they continued down this path, a frank, open discussion of his lifestyle. Although for him, it hadn’t been much of a lifestyle of late. Back to back to back tours in Afghanistan didn’t allow much time for a social life, particularly one D/s in nature.
Remembering she’d posed a question, he addressed it. “I’ve been assigned to desk duty while I go through rehab. I start back in two weeks. The doctors think I could be back with my unit in about ninety days, if—”
“Back to war,” she cut in, her knit brow speaking volumes. “Back to more IED’s on the roadside, suicide bombers, terrorists trying to kill you, it scares me, Sean. I see young men, kids really, come into the hospital all the time with missing limbs, head injuries, awful wounds and psychiatric problems. The whole thought of you going off to war and getting hurt again... I saw the scars when I admitted you, this wasn’t the first time.”
“It’s the nature of my business, Mara. I’m a soldier and a good one. In nearly twelve years, this is the first time I’ve been away from my team for more
than a week and it wouldn’t have happened if the surgeon at the field hospital hadn’t missed some of the shrapnel.”
“Even without the complications, you wouldn’t have been released to go traipsing around Afghanistan with a fractured femur, Sean. Don’t forget about that.” He arched a brow at her absorbing the hit to his pride. She couldn’t contain her laughter. “Sorry. I forgot I was talking to a badass Green Beret.”
“We prefer Special Forces.”
Reaching across the table, she rested her hand over his. “I’m glad you didn’t stay in Afghanistan, Sean, or we’d have never met.”
“I guess I lucked out when someone screwed up, huh?”
She tilted her head as she considered him closely. “You have a very positive outlook to see an inept surgeon and post-op complications as a good thing.”
He returned her smile. “What would getting ticked off and brooding about it accomplish?” Sean squeezed her hand, turning it over while he rubbed her palm with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve actually been considering entering civilian life. My friends are opening a business back home and have offered me a partnership.”
“And home is…?”
“San Antonio, Texas.”
She sat back, perceptibly bothered by that fact. “So you’d be leaving, either way.”
“With this rehab, it’s three months away at least and I’m not certain what I’ll do. It takes that long or longer to process an Army discharge anyway, so I might have to rejoin my team, depending how I do.”
“I hope not. Of the options, going back is my least favorite. I’d rather see you safe and two thousand miles away, than in harm’s way.”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant, like our next date. I had a good time tonight, Mara. I’d like to see you again?”
Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) Page 2
