by Julie Miller
Damn. That flush of heat flaring up his neck and into his cheeks better have something to do with faulty wiring in the coffee shop’s air-conditioning system. Ethan fisted his hands as he took a deep, calming breath. “Forget I just said that. That’s not what I’m asking.”
She was actually smiling at his fish-out-of-water lack of charm. “I wouldn’t be offended if you did.”
Now how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Okay, then get over here and do a lap dance for me? He was trying to do the right thing here. He was failing miserably.
Where was Travis when he needed him? A little advice on how to steer this conversation back to a safer, saner topic would be appreciated right about now. Of course, Travis would probably tell him to go for it. If the woman was willing…
“This isn’t about sex,” Ethan stated firmly, needing to hear the words out loud as much as she did.
Her amusement was tempered by the downward focus of her eyes. Under studious scrutiny, she circled her index finger around the rim of her cup with such methodical precision that Ethan was soon mesmerized by the slow, repetitive motion himself.
It didn’t take much imagination to picture that finger tracing the same circles across the back of his hand or around the shell of his ear or along the length of something else that seemed to have a mind of its own tonight. Right on cue, the little major popped to attention, completely oblivious to the more important agenda of finding a fiancée and nabbing that promotion.
Too late, Ethan realized the hypnotic display had been a stalling tactic. With her face still downcast, she lifted her gaze, giving her an expression of drowsy innocence that was pure seduction. But he was quickly learning there was little coy or innocent about this woman, an observation which put him on guard even while it intrigued him. “Are you embarrassed to talk about sex, Ethan?”
“No.” But he was so far out of practice, apparently he’d forgotten how. With a rueful smile, he shook his head. “I just don’t believe it’s something a gentleman discusses with a lady, especially on a first date. And this isn’t even really a date.”
She tipped her chin and looked him straight in the eye. Bang. She had him. So much for guarding himself. “But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He’d been thinking about it from the moment he’d spotted her across the bar at Groucho’s—and she didn’t need a Ph.D. to figure that out. “What if I told you I was, too?”
Ethan leaned back in his seat, letting that nugget of information sink in—giving himself room to breathe without inhaling her warm, inviting scent and scattering his concentration. “I’d say I’m flattered. I’m interested. But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna do it. I’m a workaholic. Thinking about sex is all I have time for these days.”
“That’s a shame.” Was that disbelief or disappointment in her voice? J.C. pushed back from the table, too, matching his stiff-backed posture. “Well, it can’t be that important because you’ve talked all around it. And every time I force the issue, you politely change the subject. As if it’s something civilized ladies and gentlemen wouldn’t normally talk about.”
Civilized people didn’t hunt down women in bars to ask complete strangers to save their professional butts. “This is important. To me. To my future. And if I hesitate, it’s just that…I need to ask you a huge favor. But I’m afraid you’ll say no and I’ll be S-O-L.”
J.C. paused to consider his words. She took a sip of her latte and dabbed the froth from her lip before he got any more stupid ideas. That tiny frown line reappeared on her forehead as she turned her attention from the mug cradled between her hands up to him. “Do you want me to bear your love child?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to kill someone for you?”
“Of course not.”
“Betray a national secret?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then try me.” She set down the mug and reached across the table to lay her hand over his tightly bunched fist. The warmth of her drink was instantly transmitted to his skin and Ethan nearly flinched at the gentle familiarity of her touch. But he held himself still and tuned in to that hushed voice and those searching eyes. “And don’t worry about sweet-talking your way around it. The direct approach seems to work best for you. I’m a big girl, I can take it. What do you need from me?”
Ethan decided to state it just as plainly as she’d requested. “I need you to be my fiancée for the next two weeks.”
Her laughter was loud enough to turn a few heads in the dwindling line of customers. “I thought this was all some elaborate pickup line. You aren’t trying to get me into bed, are you? I thought you were just too shy to come out and say it.”
“Shy?” He commanded men. Gave orders. Saved lives. He snatched his hand free and sat at attention.
She wisely shut her mouth and contained her laughter. “Old-fashioned, then. A fiancée for two weeks, huh?” She sat back, tucking both hands well out of reach beneath the table. Humor still shook through her shoulders. “You don’t believe in long-term relationships?”
“I don’t have time to find one.”
“You’re not dying, are you?”
“This isn’t some damn game. I’m trying to get promoted to lieutenant colonel!” The natural authority in his voice bounced off the hardwood walls.
Her grin flatlined. At last she saw that this was no joke to him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you. Your request surprised me, that’s all. It certainly wasn’t what I expected.”
The apology soothed his wounded pride and made him regret the outburst. He’d probably been broadcasting his attraction to her with all the subtlety of a rutting elephant. And after those two bozos in the parking lot had made an aggressive play for her… No wonder she’d misread his intentions.
Ethan dropped his voice to a more sociable level. “I’m the one who should apologize. Obviously I’m not much good at communication. If I had other options, I’d use them. But I don’t. This promotion means a lot to me. I already have a strike against me because I’m the youngest candidate. My chances of getting that promotion improve tenfold if my superiors think I’m a guy intent on settling down. The Corps prefers their base officers to be leaders both professionally and socially.”
“I see.” J.C. shrugged. “Is there some reason why you’re not intent on settling down?”
“I just haven’t gotten around to it. Like I said, I’m a workaholic.” And a blind-assed loser who would never trust his heart to a deceiving woman again. “I’m not asking you to marry me. We just need to pretend we’re engaged for a couple of weeks.”
She gestured down at her sweater and jeans. “You think I could pull off something like that? The corporate wife-to-be or whatever the military equivalent is?”
“I think you’re perfect for it.”
“Me? But you don’t know…” Gray eyes locked on blue, and for a few seconds Ethan thought he saw something raw and vulnerable in her sarcastic expression. But the notion was quickly dispelled by a blink and a crooked smile. “You know, I’ve never pulled off a dinner party for more than two or three close friends. And I’d rather run barefoot than wear panty hose any day of the week.”
“You don’t have to throw any parties,” he reassured her. “You just have to attend a few functions with me. A ball, a dinner, some luncheons, a family weekend. We’d need to make up a story of how we met, hold hands, do enough familiar looks and touches so that our relationship would be believable.”
She huffed a derisive sigh. “Is that all?”
Ethan checked his watch. It was nearly 0-200 hours. Only half a day away from the Cherry Blossom Ball. He pleaded his case. “I know I’m asking for a lot of your time, but it won’t cost you a penny. I’ll pay for any expenses you incur. A ball gown, transportation, missed time at work, whatever.”
The arch of her right brow reflected curiosity and skepticism. “You’d buy me a ball gown?”
“You pick it out. I’ll just pay the bill. Choose whatev
er suits your tastes. I’m not asking you to become a different person, I just need you to take on an extra job. Socialize with the other officers and candidates and their spouses or significant others.”
“And say good things about you? Act like my world revolves around you? Make them believe I’m as much of an asset to the Corps as you are?”
“Exactly.”
For a moment he hoped. But then she raked her fingers through the fringe of hair at her temple and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ethan. I tend to be pretty opinionated, and high heels absolutely wreck my feet. I might be more of a hindrance than an asset to your promotion.”
“Nonsense.” He crossed his arms and braced his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “You’re mature. Attractive. Intelligent. You can carry on an interesting conversation. You think on your feet and you’re not afraid to take risks.”
A hint of pink colored her cheeks and her mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Careful. That sounded dangerously close to sweet talk if you ask me.”
“It’s not false flattery. Believe me, I looked at a lot of women tonight.” He gestured as he spoke. “Some of them had bigger boobs or longer hair. Some were dressed more seductively—”
J.C. reached out and captured his flailing hand. “Quit while you’re ahead, Major.”
Ethan turned his hand to hold on to hers. Palm touching palm, he savored that fiery energy that seemed to burn inside her and pulse between them. “Sorry. Honesty has always been a curse of mine.”
“A curse?”
“I’m not good at sugarcoating things.” He lacked the words to express what he felt. But his body seemed to have no problem expressing what it wanted. The world around them shrank down to the frictive heat of skin against skin as he massaged his thumb across the back of her hand, teasing her the same way she’d teased the rim of her cup earlier. Her pupils dilated with subtle arousal, turning her bright eyes into hazy pools of deep, midnight blue. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re the only woman tonight who…clicked.”
“Clicked?”
Her fingers splayed, inviting the stroke of his thumb along their delicate lengths and the soft places in between. Ethan obliged.
“You’re the only woman I wanted to ask to do this for me.”
More silence. More strokes. More lazy heat. Then a crooked, beautiful smile. “I don’t think honesty is such a curse. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”
He groaned. “Sweet’s good, right?”
J.C. nodded, tightening her grip around his when he would have pulled away. Ethan had never understood the whole sweet appeal that women seemed to crave. But when she rewarded him by turning over his hand and starting a slow massage of her own, he decided the concept might be worth investigating. She traced each line of his palm with a touch so light it was almost a tickle. But every nerve ending awoke and eagerly awaited the next caress. And as the touches deepened, his blood turned into warm, thick molasses and drizzled a lazy heat into every part of him.
Sweet was very good.
His breath hitched. He was dying to have those mesmerizing hands work their magic on other, more neglected, parts of his body.
Her fingers trailed up to the pounding pulse point on his wrist and he began to consider doing more than simply fake a relationship with this woman. Maybe celibacy was an unnecessary safeguard against women messing with his life. As long as he kept his heart out of the picture and didn’t lose his head over any promises she might make or break, there was no sensible reason to deny his body the pleasure of her company.
If she was willing.
“To be honest…” She was using both hands now, watching her own work, and the thoroughness with which she studied and stroked him stirred his fantasies. This was nothing more than a hand massage, yet he was completely under her spell. “You were the only man tonight who…clicked…with me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Nice. No declaration of love. No pressure. Just an admission of…clicking. Admitting a mutual attraction. Safe enough.
“So, will you help me?” he asked. Her hands stilled on his. Her downcast eyes were unreadable. Edgy anticipation quickly vanquished Ethan’s mellow mood. “J.C.?”
“Well, I suppose I do owe you for defending me against those perverts tonight.”
“I’d have done the same whether you say yes or no.”
“I believe you would.” She pulled away entirely, and he had to grab the table to keep from snatching back her hands and demanding an answer. After taking a moment to rifle through her cavernous bag without retrieving anything, she closed the top and hugged it to her chest. She lifted her gaze to a point barely above his chin. Uh-oh. “I’ll do this fiancée act for you on one condition.”
“Name it.”
Ethan held his breath. Short of committing a felony, he would do whatever she asked to make this happen.
Her eyes finally met his. “We seal the deal with another kiss.”
“Sir?” Ethan figuratively picked his jaw up from the table and dragged his attention to the college boy who had summoned him from behind the counter. The thrills of unexpected success and sexual anticipation pounding through his veins had momentarily deafened him to the world outside this booth. “We’re getting ready to close down the machines for cleaning. Can I get you anything else before you go?”
Ethan got the hint. He doffed the kid a two-fingered salute. “We’re good. Thanks.” J.C. was still clutching her purse to her chest as if it afforded her some kind of security, but her sensuous smile radiated the same hunger that twitched along every nerve ending in his body. She wanted another kiss, huh? He stood and held his hand out to her. “Shall we?”
Arm in arm, they double-timed it back to the bar.
THE NUMBER OF VEHICLES in the lot at Groucho’s Pub had thinned enough to offer them virtual privacy in the shadows where J.C. had parked her jazzy little Camaro coupe. While she dug out her keys to unlock her car, Ethan took note of the broken light in the street lamp nearest to her car.
Like the guard he’d been trained to be, he hovered close behind her, taking stock of their surroundings. He spotted the homeless guy settling in for the night in the alley behind the bar. Two teens drove past, their ground-thumping music at two in the morning begging for a call to the D.C. police. In the silence that followed their departure, one of the cocktail waitresses came out the door, tucking a respectable wad of bills into her purse and hurrying over to a beat-up truck. Ethan scowled at the open invitation to a mugging. He followed her all the way with his gaze, easing his conscience once she started the engine and drove safely away.
When he finally heard J.C.’s key sliding into the lock, his focus shifted from the potential dangers to the all too vulnerable woman beside him. He reached around her to hold open the door, creating a triangle with the car and his body that shielded her in the center. “You should have your keys out before you get to your car, and try to park closer to the door and under a light when you know you’re going to be out late like this.”
J.C. shook her head and turned. The glimpse of a smile seemed to make light of his concerns. “Enough with the lecture, Mr. Marine. One, I know the standard safety rules. If I was alone, I’d have used them. Two, there were no spots available near any of the streetlights or the door. And three, you’re the one who kept me out so late.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m here to watch your back.” And my, what a tempting backside that was.
She turned and leaned into the car to toss her bag onto the floorboard in front of the passenger seat. Her butt rounded before his eyes, and his crotch roused at the tempting target she presented. Her sweater rode up to reveal a stripe of smooth, pale skin above the waistband of her jeans. His fingers burned with the sudden desire to release the car’s cold metal and touch that hot, secret peek of naked woman.
A kiss. A kiss, he reminded himself as she straightened and the skin disappeared. All the lady had asked for was a kiss. And he still had a point
to make. “You walked out here on your own earlier. You should have asked the bouncer to walk you to your car.”
J.C. turned. “That’s not his job.”
“It’s dark, it’s late and you were alone. No wonder those goons thought they could accost you. You shouldn’t take chances like that.”
She reached up and flipped his collar into place. “Don’t fret, Major. I was taking care of myself long before you came into the picture.”
He seized her wrists to pull away her distracting hands and force her to listen. “Well, I am in the picture now. Either have somebody walk you out or call me.”
That tiny frown line dimpled between her brows. “Right, like you’ll show up just to see me safely from that door to this car if I call.”
“I’ll be there.”
She jerked her hands free. “Not after two weeks, you won’t.”
Ethan didn’t know how to respond to that comment, especially since, despite her teasing tone, it felt like an accusation. Unsure of what his guilt might be, worried that she would change her mind about posing as his bride-to-be, Ethan retreated a step and racheted back his emotions. “The Cherry Blossom Ball is tonight. Formal attire. I’ll pick you up at nineteen hundred hours. That’s seven o’clock civvie time. I’m free later this morning if you need to do some shopping.”
“You want to go shopping?” She arched an eyebrow that indicated sarcastic humor, but that tiny dent which spoke of thoughts he couldn’t know or understand was still in place.
“To be honest, I’d rather be lined up in front of a firing squad. But I said I’d pay for everything. You find the dress and then call me.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “That’s got my office and cell number on it.”
“If you insist.” She tucked the card into her pocket.
With that much of a plan in place, J.C. climbed into the car. Ethan shut the door as she started the engine. She hadn’t gotten that kiss she’d asked for, but then maybe she’d changed her mind. He might still be simmering with newly awakened, long-denied lust, but her jets had cooled considerably since he’d voiced his concerns about her safety. So when she rolled down her window, he leaned down close enough to see and hear yet maintain a polite distance.
