That night at dinner, Jack looked across the table at his wife and told himself to remember that this was, for all intents and purposes, a pretend marriage. But it wasn’t easy.
She looked gorgeous. Amazing what the lack of a hangover could do for a woman. She wore a short, sunshine-yellow dress that hugged her curves, defining her many assets to perfection. The color of the dress deepened a honey-colored tan and somehow shifted the brown of her eyes to a shade of gold that drew his attention over and over again.
Sitting at the colonel’s table was nerve-racking for Jack, but his new wife was completely at home. Of course, why wouldn’t she be? Colonel Candello was her father. Raised by an officer, around officers, she actually belonged at that table.
As for him, Jack kept waiting for someone to leap up, point at him and shout. “This man’s an impostor. He’s not one of us. Get him out of here!” He grimaced slightly and told himself that the night was almost over. All he had to do was survive dessert. After that, he could go to his room and—Wait a minute. Not his room any longer. Now he shared it with a wife.
Mental images raced through his mind. Donna, tossing her newly purchased clothes and the bags they’d come in all over his hotel room. There had been no way to avoid her staying with him. A newly married couple wouldn’t very well have separate rooms, after all.
So there wouldn’t be any relaxation for him after dinner, either. Perfect. Why in the hell hadn’t he just let her embarrass herself and the colonel the night before? Would it really have been so bad if the colonel’s daughter had turned up drunk at the Battalion Ball?
Yeah, he thought. It would have. At least for the colonel.
“Jack?” that man asked in a tone of voice that clearly said he’d asked before and been ignored.
“Sir,” Jack responded, unconsciously stiffening in his seat. “Sorry, Sir, daydreaming, I guess.” Or, to be more accurate, nightmaring.
“Relax, Jack,” his new father-in-law said, “you’re not on parade, here. This is just an informal, family dinner.”
Family. Him? And the colonel? Lord help him.
“Of course, Sir,” he said, no more at ease than he had been a moment ago.
The colonel shook his head, but asked out of the blue, “Do you play any golf?”
Golf? Jack stared for a long minute at the man he most admired in the world, thinking how little they really had in common. Where he’d grown up, there were no golf courses. That game was for rich people. People with too much time and money on their hands. The folks in Jack’s neighborhood had been too busy trying to find work and buy food to go out and chase some little white ball around a well-tended lawn. But he couldn’t very well voice that opinion to his superior officer, so he said only, “No, Sir, I don’t.”
“Too bad,” the colonel said. “I think you’d like it. Donna’s pretty good, you know.”
Now why didn’t that surprise him? His gaze shifted back to the pretty woman across from him. Of course the spoiled, only child of an important man would play golf. “Really?”
“I haven’t played in years,” Donna admitted. The first sentence she’d uttered since sitting at the table an hour ago.
“Maybe you could teach Jack,” her father said.
“That’s probably not a bad idea,” she conceded with a quick look at her husband.
Her gaze barely rested on him an instant before she pointedly looked away again. So much for their hastily made bargain to try to be friendly. Hell, now that she was stone-cold sober, maybe she was regretting their quickie marriage.
Now that he could understand.
Damn, this was going to be harder than he’d thought, Jack told himself. He let his own gaze wander the crowded restaurant. He recognized several of the other diners as marines and even caught a couple of them throwing curious looks his way.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Jack never had liked being the center of attention in any situation. Being a marine fed into that nicely. On base, he was simply one of thousands of soldiers. Now, though, he’d managed to step into the limelight, and he didn’t care for it one bit.
“Would you two excuse me?” the colonel asked.
Jack turned to look at the other man. But the colonel’s gaze was riveted on a spot at the far side of the room. As the older man pushed away from the table, he said, “I see someone I’d like a moment with.”
He was gone before either of them could say a word.
“Well,” Donna muttered as she followed her father’s progress across the room. “I wonder what that’s all about?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said, “but it’s none of my business, either.”
Both of her finely arched eyebrows lifted as she turned those brown eyes on him. “Feeling a little cranky, are we?”
“Cranky?” Stunned, he stared at her for a long minute. “I’m not the one who hasn’t said a damn thing all night.”
She winced. “Okay, so I haven’t exactly been holding up my end of the conversation.”
“You don’t even have an end.”
Those incredible golden eyes of hers narrowed slightly. “You know, I don’t much like pushy husbands.”
Amazing. He’d almost found himself liking her earlier. Wouldn’t you know his new wife would be at her most likable when she had been suffering from a hangover?
“And I don’t much like whiny wives.”
“Whiny?” She sat straighter in her chair. “Who’s whining? You just said yourself that I haven’t even been talking.”
“You can whine by intent, too.”
“How do you know what I intended or not?”
“I can tell what you’re thinking just by looking at your face.”
“Oo-oh, a mind reader. How fascinating.”
“Knock it off, Donna.”
“Knock what off exactly, Jack?” she asked, leaning one elbow on the table. Cupping her chin in her hand, she batted her eyelashes at him wildly. “I thought you wanted me to talk.”
Disgusted with himself, her, and the whole damned situation, he snapped, “Forget it. I changed my mind.”
“How like a man. Never sure what he wants.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The humorous glint in her eyes was gone. “Never mind.”
“Well, well,” a booming deep voice announced from nearby, startling both of them into turning their heads toward the man just stopping at their table.
Immediately Jack jumped to his feet and came to attention. “General Stratton, Sir. Good evening.”
The older man, dressed in a dove-gray suit, carried himself as if wearing a full dress uniform. “As you were, First Sergeant.”
Jack relaxed only slightly, shifting into an “at ease” stance, arms behind his back.
“How’s my favorite goddaughter and her new husband tonight?” the general asked, smiling down at Donna.
She stood slowly and rose up to kiss the older man on the cheek. “We’re fine, Uncle Harry,” she said.
General Stratton? Beads of sweat broke out on Jack’s forehead. Uncle Harry? Good God, what had he gotten himself into here? By trying to save his colonel’s reputation, he’d jumped headfirst into a pool he had no business trying to swim in. Generals. Colonels. Hell, he was drowning already and he hadn’t been in the water for a whole day yet.
“You two should have waited,” the general was saying as Jack focused on the conversation. “Had a big wedding on base, where we could all have been there.”
Jack’s mouth was very dry. He looked at his wife and in stupefied amazement, watched her smile at him as though she meant it before turning back to the general.
“Oh, Uncle Harry,” she practically sighed, “it was so much more romantic this way.”
Romantic? Memories of their less than perfect wedding flashed across his mind and Jack didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that his wife seemed to be such a good liar.
General Stratton bent, kissed her forehead, then straightened. “I suppose
I can remember what young love is like,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “Vaguely.” Turning to face Jack, the general went on sternly. “You treat our girl right now, First Sergeant, or you’ll answer to me.”
Perfect.
“Yes, Sir,” Jack said, his voice as stiff as his body.
Nodding, the older man gave Donna’s shoulder a pat, then said, “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ve got to go find my wife before some young major runs off with her.” His gaze already scanning the crowded dining room, he wandered away.
Jack and Donna, still standing at opposite ends of the table, stared at each other for a long minute. “Uncle Harry?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Oh, man,” he whispered, his rigid stance slumping a bit now that the general had moved on.
“What happened to the stalwart marine who rode so bravely to the rescue this morning when facing my dragon father?” she asked quietly.
“He’s in shock.” Along with what friends of his had already heard about his hurried marriage. Only a few more people to tell, he thought, not looking forward to seeing their astonished faces or hearing the gasps of “Donna who?”
“Maybe he needs a little exercise.”
“Huh?” Jack looked at her blankly.
She shook her head and he tried not to notice how her soft, black hair caressed her cheeks with the movement.
“Dance with me, First Sergeant.”
He gave the crowded dance floor a wary glance. Already, the small band was shifting into a slow song and couples were beginning to sway in time with the beat.
Donna came around the table and stood right in front of him. Cocking her head to one side, she looked up into his eyes. “Dance? You know, moving around a floor while music plays?”
“I know what it is,” he told her, and didn’t add that he usually avoided dance floors at all costs.
“Well, good,” she said, and took his hand before he could object. Threading her way through the hundreds of small tables scattered around the room, she pulled him along in her wake.
Once among the other couples, she turned and stepped into his arms. Automatically, Jack held her, his right arm sliding around her narrow waist, his left hand cupping her right. She smiled up at him and something hot and heavy settled in the pit of Jack’s stomach.
He ignored the curious glances from the other dancers and stared into her eyes. Shadow and light played in their depths, captivating him. Her breasts pressed against his chest and he fancied that he could feel her heart beating in time with his own. His body stirred, responding to the warm nearness of her. He inhaled the soft, floral scent of her perfume and felt it slip into his soul.
“Jack?” she whispered.
“Hmm?” His right hand splayed open on her back, as if trying to hold more of her—all of her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, his gaze moving over her features as if he was seeing her for the first time.
“You’re sure?”
One corner of his mouth tilted. “Why?”
She glanced from side to side, then back up into his eyes. Smiling, she answered him. “Because we’re in the middle of the dance floor, standing still.”
“I don’t dance.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Well, now’s a fine time to tell me.”
Another couple swung past them, bumping into Jack’s back. He tightened his grip on her reflexively. Her hips came into contact with his. No doubt she felt his body’s reaction, since her eyes widened.
“Maybe we should go back to the table,” she said.
“Nope.” Maybe he was just plain nuts, Jack thought. But for the moment, all he wanted to do was continue to hold her. “You can teach me to dance. Now.”
“Now?” she echoed. “Here?”
“Here.”
After a momentary pause, she smiled again. “It’s been a day of firsts, huh? Married in the morning, dancing lessons in the evening…” Her voice trailed off.
“And we still have the whole night ahead of us,” Jack told her. “Who knows what other firsts are in store for us?”
Her eyes got even bigger and if he hadn’t known better, Jack might have thought that Donna Candello Harris was worried about something. Maybe even…scared.
Five
This is no roller coaster, she thought wildly. This is the grandfather of all roller coasters. Her heartbeat skittered into overdrive and her hand trembled in his. Donna stared up into his gray eyes and watched each of their fine resolutions about a platonic marriage shatter.
Tiny sparks of electricity shimmered throughout her body. Her limbs felt as heavy and tingly as if she’d been asleep for years and was just now waking up. As that thought raced across her mind, Donna inhaled sharply, tugged her hand free of Jack’s, and took a step backward.
“Donna?” His voice just carried to her over the sound of the band. “What’s wrong?”
“This,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her. Knowing, too, that she had to keep her distance from him. It would go away, she told herself firmly. This odd, heated response to his slightest touch. This was only the first day of their marriage. Surely in another week or two, she would be used to him. Probably sick and tired of him.
With any luck.
“Donna?” he asked again, moving in closer. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said, loud enough to be heard. “I’m pretty tired, Jack. I think I’ll go up to the room.”
His features tightened. His gray eyes cooled until they were the color of an ocean fog—and they held just as much warmth.
He cupped her elbow with one hand. “All right, I’ll see you to the room.”
Tingles. Sparks of heat. Desire sputtering into life.
Donna gulped in air and jerked free of his hold. “No need,” she said haltingly as she tried to steady her racing heartbeat. “You stay. Have fun. I’ll be fine.”
Without giving him a chance to argue, she hurried off the dance floor. She paused only long enough to snatch up her handbag from the table before running for the exit as though he was chasing her.
She needn’t have bothered.
Jack stood where she’d left him. Alone in a crowd of smiling couples.
The room was dark and quiet when Jack let himself in a couple of hours later. Exhausted, he told himself that maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to walk up and down the river boardwalk for two hours. But he hadn’t been ready to face his new bride until now. He’d needed to cool off. Time for some quiet thinking. An hour or two to himself, where he could make up ridiculous reasons to excuse the rush of need that had filled him the moment Donna Candello had stepped into his arms.
And he’d come up with some beauties. Everything from overtiredness to uncontrollable chemistry with a gorgeous woman. Hell, it wasn’t the first time he’d been attracted to someone he hardly knew. He was a man. Human. He was turned on by a knockout female just like any other guy.
But all of his reasoning fell flat. He knew it. He just didn’t want to admit it. Because at no other time in his entire life had he felt so completely…alive as he had when he’d held Donna on that crowded dance floor. Just the memory of those few seconds was enough to send blood rushing to an area of his body that had already plagued him enough for one evening.
He stepped into the shrouded darkness and quietly closed and locked the door behind him. Toeing off his shoes, he pushed them up against the wall, out of the way. In the blackness, he couldn’t see a thing, but he turned his head in the direction of the bed, knowing she was there. So close and yet so completely out of reach.
If he closed his eyes, he could still see her expression as she’d backed away from him earlier. She had looked horrified. Confused. Worried. He blinked away the image in favor of a more preferable one.
He saw her as he had the night before. Sprawled across his sheets, her black hair gleaming against the white pillowcase. Only, in his mind, she was sober. And waiting for him. She looked up at
him, lifted her arms and smiled softly.
Jack took one instinctive step forward and the darkness exploded into a starburst of pain. He allowed one surprised grunt to escape his throat before clamping his lips tightly together. There was no need to frighten her out of a sound sleep just because he’d just broken his foot.
Bending, he grabbed the toe he had just slammed into something and rubbed it until the throbbing eased somewhat.
What the hell had he kicked? he wondered absently. As his eyes slowly became more accustomed to the darkness, shadows began to take shape. He noted the lighter rectangle on the wall that was the draperies, closed against the neon glitter of the night sky. He swiveled his head toward the bed again, but this time he saw plainly that Donna wasn’t there.
Standing straight, he turned back toward whatever had almost crippled him. “What the hell?” he muttered. The two easy chairs in the room had been pulled close together, their seats matched up to form a small, uncomfortable-looking bed.
And on that makeshift bed, the quilt tucked up to her chin and the pillow stuffed against a chair armrest, his blushing bride lay sound asleep.
In the dim, shadowy light, he studied her calm, peaceful features. He heard the soft whisper of her even breathing. She whimpered slightly, then scooted around, apparently looking for a more comfy position, before nestling her head deeper into the pillow.
Unexpected anger simmered in his gut.
Why hadn’t she slept in the damn bed? What was this supposed to be proving? That she couldn’t bear to be in the same bed with him? Hell, it was a wonder she hadn’t set up camp in the hallway!
“And how can she sleep through me slamming my foot into her blasted bed and shouting about it afterward?” he asked out loud, hoping for a response from Sleeping Beauty.
Nothing.
Disgusted, he turned toward the bathroom, took a step and then stopped, swiveling his head back to look at the still-oblivious woman.
She was humming in her sleep.
Jack scowled.
Not only was she humming, he thought furiously. She was off-key.
The Littlest Marine & The Oldest Living Married Virgin Page 17
