Make Mine a Marine

by Julie Miller

  "Hey."

  She'd tugged too hard and pulled his hair. "I'm sorry." She kissed a second apology. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

  His hand stilled on her hip, tangled in the hem of her dress. He found the ripped seam.

  "Em?"

  He held the torn corner of her skirt between his fingers for her inspection. She felt the change in his body, the ragged tension, the forced withdrawal. She knew she had lost the moment before it had ever fully been hers.

  "No. Don't leave me," she said. He raised himself up on his elbows above her. She laced her fingers behind his neck, wanting him back, needing him. "I want to forget."

  "Forget what?" The scowl on his face gentled when he looked into her eyes. "Lady, tell me what happened. Tell me what's wrong."

  More than the fire of his passion, more than the power of his embrace, the gentle brush of Drew's fingers across her cheek undid her. Heat stung her eyes, flooded them with tears that spilled over onto her cheek and across his hand.

  She sat up, tried to roll away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used you like that. I wasn't thinking. I only wanted to feel. I'm sorry."

  She wiped at the moisture on her face, but his hand was already there. His fingers caught each drop, carried it away, until the dam broke inside her and the tears came too swiftly for any kind touch. "Oh, God," she sobbed. "I can't stand… I can't be with him. My husband is finally home and I can’t be with him."

  Drew gathered her into his arms, settled her beside him on the bed. He cupped her head and turned her face into the crook of his neck. "Hush." He rocked her back and forth as the tears flowed unchecked. "Hush, lady."

  Emma wept for all she had hoped for, all she had lost.

  She wept for broken dreams and foolish resolutions and shattered hearts.

  She wept for brave men betrayed by their past and loyal women haunted by their future.

  She cried until her head hurt and her sinuses ached. She cried until her throat felt raw. She cried until she could cry no more.

  And Drew held her. He held her long into the early hours of the morning, long past the time her tears had dried up and her body continued to quake in weary, bone-shaking sobs. He held her snug in his arms until her body surrendered to exhaustion and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Drew slept through the night with Emma in his arms. He stirred just a time or two, to straighten her dress around her and to cover her with a blanket.

  Though his body ached with unfulfilled need, he slept the sleep of those at peace, the kind of sleep he couldn't remember.

  She had needed him, in a way that couldn't be neatly explained by lust or circumstance. Something had frightened her terribly, shaken her to the very core. And though he railed against the most likely suspect, the one man who could hurt her the most, she hadn't come to him to fight that battle for her.

  She had come seeking a sanctuary.

  Emma had finally let go. Her will battered down, her faith exhausted, she'd lost that cool reserve that made her so strong and had let go of all the pain and fear and heartache she buried inside her.

  He awoke with Emma tucked to his side, her arm slung across his chest. Her hair fanned in a profusion of sable-rich glory across his arm and the pillow behind her.

  Drew hugged her tight, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and silently thanked her for the honor. When the strain of a lifetime had become too much to bear, when she no longer had the strength to protect herself, she had come to him.

  He crawled out of bed and tucked the blanket around her. He wanted her to sleep and regain her strength. As he stood over her, he frowned. The bruises on her face stood out starkly on her freckled alabaster skin. He remembered the ragged edge of her torn dress and wondered just what that bastard had done.

  Knowing Emma, she had put up one hell of a fight.

  Keeping that thought foremost in his mind so he wouldn't tear the place apart, he showered and dressed. He was pouring himself a glass of milk when Emma wandered into the kitchen. Although statuesque as ever, she seemed small and vulnerable with the blanket hugged around her, covering her from shoulders to ankles.

  "Good morning." He offered the gentle greeting with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

  With one hand gripping the blanket at her throat, she pulled her hair free and shook it loose around her shoulders. The resulting cascade framed her face in a dark cloud. Barefoot and without makeup, she looked a far cry from the cool, confident corporate-exec facade she normally showed the world. "I want to apologize."

  "For what?"

  Her gaze snapped to his, wide and questioning. "For barging in on you last night. For not finishing what we started." She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and huddled into an even more closed posture. "For taking advantage of your good nature.

  "My good nature?" He laughed and drank a long swallow of the wholesome milk. "I thought you liked me for my less sterling qualities."

  She stepped to the table, opposite him, gripped the back of a chair and gave him a stern look. "You may have questionable talents that help with your work, but you're a good man. You could have taken advantage of my hysteria last night, but you didn't. I needed a friend more than I needed a lover, and you were there for me."

  "Taken advantage?" He narrowed his eyes at her choice of words. "Is that what this is all about?"

  She shrank inside the blanket. Everything stern or strong seeped from her pale features.

  Drew pulled a platter from the microwave and set it in the center of the table. Then he pulled a mug from the cabinet. "Coffee or milk?”

  "I beg your pardon?"

  He set the mug on the table in front of her. "Coffee or milk? Which do you want with your breakfast?" She eyed the toast and scrambled eggs he'd set on the table and made a polite but thanks-but-no-thanks face. She was too upset to eat.

  "You shouldn't have gone to the trouble."

  "I planned to eat, anyway." He ignored the defensive dodge of her shoulders when he moved around her and pulled out the chair for her. "Sit." He touched his fingers to the indentation of her waist and guided her to her seat. "Last night you needed to vent. This morning we need to talk."

  He felt her gaze rise to him and follow him around the table. When he sat, she sought his eyes. He offered her a supportive smile and set about eating his eggs and toast. For several minutes, she simply watched him in silence. He waited for her to fill him in on whatever had happened to make calm, rational Emma Ramsey go through an emotional upheaval like the one he'd witnessed last night.

  "I called my lawyer yesterday evening. Interrupted his dinner." This was not what he'd expected to hear, but he schooled his curiosity and took another drink of milk, waiting for her to elaborate. "I filed for a divorce from Jonathan."

  The food in his mouth went sour. He dropped his toast on to the plate and shoved it to the middle of the table. "Did he hurt you?"

  "Not the way you mean." There were numerous ways a person could get hurt in an abusive relationship. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. None were acceptable in Drew's book. Not with any woman. Especially not with Emma.

  He donned a more detached demeanor, assumed the role of a dispassionate counselor. Letting her see his anger wouldn't encourage her to talk. Sharing his opinion of the sort of justice he wanted to wreak on the husband to whom she had fought so hard to be loyal, wouldn't help Emma. "He's been home for less than a month. Divorce seems like a drastic step if you're not getting along."

  She lifted her shoulders, but seeing them tremble made a mockery of her show of strength. "I should have done it sooner."

  Drew asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to. "Did something happen last night to force this decision?"

  Her gaze darted to his, then down to her plate. She picked up a slice of toast and toyed with it. "He was a little aggressive, a bit needy." She dropped the uneaten food. "I left before he could really scare me. I'm sure things have calmed down by now."

  He
r rote recitation appalled him. Is that how her mother had sounded when she'd been abused? "Don't defend him to me."

  "I'm not. I… he…" She sought his gaze with a frantic need. "It wasn't just last night. He's… he's not himself." She loosened her grip on her woolen shield and fisted her hand in front of her. "He's so demanding. I hoped he'd come home the same man I once knew. I expected that maybe he would be more subdued after being held prisoner. That he'd have problems to work through. But this Jonathan is… strong."

  She settled back in her chair, as if surprised by her own revelation. Drew rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, maintaining the shorter distance between them. "Strong?" he questioned.

  "He makes demands. He expects them to be followed, without any discussion. If there's a problem with Kerry, he tells me to take care of it. He didn't like the office I gave him at LadyTech, so he conned the staff into taking everything out and moving it into a bigger room. He said he wanted to be closer to me, but I didn't buy it. He treats me like I'm some kind of prize he's entitled to."

  While Emma's temper built into a small inferno, Drew forced himself to remain cool and detached. He considered it one of his finest acting jobs, since all he really wanted to do was grab his gun and his truck keys and track down Ramsey. No one, not even her husband, had the right to play with Emma's self-confidence and destroy her trust like this. "Could it be his military background? He's probably used to giving orders."

  "He never gave one to me before now."

  Drew tried to come up with another rational explanation for Jonathan's behavior. He couldn't.

  Emma dropped her focus to her hands in her lap. "My father was like that. He'd make demands. He'd want his dinner cooked a certain way, want me home right after school. He'd tell Mom to wear a certain dress, but if it was in the laundry, he'd…" Drew waited with forced silence while she caught her breath and worked through the memory that assailed her. "You could never please him. Sometimes he'd just stalk off, get in his car and leave. Go drink with his friends. Sometimes…"

  Drew didn't want to imagine what Emma's father had done on the times when he didn't leave the house. "Em…" Unable to keep his distance any longer, he stood and circled the table. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her up in his arms, blanket and all.

  She turned her face into the juncture of his neck and jaw and simply let herself be held. But she didn't cry. She was summoning her scattered strength, absorbing a bit of his, and building up her own spirit. Drew inhaled with deep pride. A delicious scent teased his nose, a scent of herbal freshness that was uniquely Emma. She would not be beaten. Not by history, not by time, not by a shattered love.

  Several moments passed before she spoke again. "Jonathan knows about my father. He knows my fears about ending up like my mother. He was always patient, even when it wasn't convenient for him. He taught me that I could have a different opinion, I could argue my side and it would be okay."

  She pushed back against his arms, and he altered his hold so she could look into his face. She dug her fingers into the worn cotton of his black sweatshirt, pleading with him, and with herself, perhaps, for understanding. "I can't explain it, Drew. A man's character doesn't change, no matter what he's been through. That man may have Jonathan's face, but"—she looked up into his eyes—"he's not my husband."

  * * *

  Emma drove her van down the long boulevards of Kansas City and through the grand old homes of her own neighborhood with a growing feeling of emptiness. Last night had drained her, emotionally and physically. She'd emptied herself of emotion, her love and trust shattered by the man who had once taught her those two very things.

  She knew an inescapable sense of doom, the resignation of going to do a tough job simply because it needed to be done. She had never shied away from difficult tasks. But she dreaded the coming days all the same.

  Still, hope sprang anew. She wasn't foolish enough to delude herself into thinking that going through with the divorce proceedings would be easy. But spring was just around the corner with its promise of rebirth and new life. She wanted to leave the winter season of her life behind her, those bleak years she'd pined for Jonathan's return, those last few months when she'd denied the need in her restless heart to move on with her life, these last horrifying weeks when she’d been given the chance to be reunited with her love, and the last two days when she'd finally admitted that the love she'd known no longer existed.

  With a bit of rest behind her, and the fresh perception of a new day, she realized how cheated she felt. She'd given her heart and soul to Jonathan Ramsey. She'd rebelled tooth and nail at first, but finally she'd come to believe that two people in love could risk their hearts and, because they loved, know their hearts would be safe.

  Now she knew better.

  She'd risk her love on Kerry and nothing more. No one else.

  And despite the tempting haven of Drew's arms, she wouldn't even trust the dark knight who followed behind her in his pickup truck. Drew had feelings for her, he'd admitted as much. And she cared about him. They shared an intense physical attraction. He held her with care, listened with patience, prodded her to action, and reminded her of the kind of man she had once loved.

  But she would never love again.

  The smart woman in her knew that risking her heart on a man like Drew, a man of mystery, a man who lied with ease, a man who could be anyone he chose to be, would be a mistake.

  She rarely made mistakes.

  She never made the same one twice.

  Emma pulled into her driveway. She sat in the van and waited for Drew to park his truck and escort her inside the house. She studied her reflection in the rearview mirror. She wasn't proud of taking advantage of his caring nature, but when he'd insisted on seeing her home, insisted on checking the house to make sure Jonathan had no intention of retaliating, she had said yes.

  She wanted to be strong enough to say no to him. But the pale strain on her fresh-scrubbed face revealed the truth, that she was just an outer shell of strength. She couldn't bluff her way through a confrontation with Jonathan right now. And though she hated to admit it, she was more than relieved that Drew had been persistent enough to override her protests.

  A sharp tap on her window startled her from her introspection. She took a steadying breath, grabbed her purse, and climbed out.

  "His car's in the garage." Drew had moved quickly, always on guard, always protective.

  "All right, then. Let's get this over with."

  His hand on her arm stopped her. "You don't have to do this, Em. I can go in and help him find his way out the door."

  She smiled at the dead-serious scowl on his face. She imagined he'd intimidated quite a number of people with that expression. She patted his hand and dismissed his offer. "No, thanks. I'd like to leave some of the house in one piece."

  His lips curved into an answering smile, but that wary alertness never left his eyes. He released her. "Then lead on, Macduff."

  The normalcy of that teasing remark, a Shakespearean reference to their first evening together all those nights ago, gave Emma a much needed boost of confidence. But that flashback to a happier time faded as they neared the front door.

  Drew followed her up the steps to the front porch. He removed the glasses he'd worn for driving and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he reached inside his jacket. She'd watched him strap on his gun before they left his apartment. Then, she had assumed it was his standard everyday gear. Now, she wondered.

  She stopped at the door before inserting her key. "Are you expecting trouble?" she asked.

  "I always expect trouble." It wasn't a glib comeback this time. The obvious wariness in his expression told her he meant it.

  Her questionable self-assurance took a nosedive. Emma gritted her teeth and unlocked the door. Her confidence didn't matter. She had a job to do, and somehow she'd just have to get it done.

  They hadn't even gotten the door closed when Jonathan marched out of the study and confronted them in t
he hallway. "Emma. Finally. I've been worried sick about you."

  The words of concern hit her like an accusation. She planted her heels and held her ground, although she reeled inside. "Were you?" she managed to ask without a quiver in her voice.

  He looked like hell. He needed a shave. His clothes were untucked and wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them. Emma knew a moment of concern. Maybe he had been worried about her. She nearly stepped forward, reaching out to straighten his inverted collar. But he fisted his hands on his hips and smiled. That chilling baring of his teeth voided any remorse on her part.

  His eyes dismissed her for the moment, and he turned the full brunt of his displeasure on the man standing behind her. "I see you brought your bodyguard with you. So you left me and went straight to another man's bed, right? That won't look very good in court, sweetheart."

  She felt Drew surge forward, saw the answering shift in balance in Jonathan's legs. Instinctively, Emma turned to the man she knew would listen to her.

  "Drew." He halted a breath away from her. The front of his jacket grazed her outstretched fingers. She could feel the heat of him, banked at her request. But judging by the rage that simmered in his eyes, she knew that his patience was tied at the starting gate with a very flimsy rope.

  "How can you insult your own wife?" Drew challenged.

  "Do you know who you've been sleeping with, my dear?" Jonathan seemed to delight in Drew's flash of temper.

  Emma spun around again. She lifted a supplicating hand to Jonathan, desperate to strike a bargain before a bad situation deteriorated into something she couldn't handle.

  "I asked you to leave. Drew works for me. He's just here to see that you pack your things and move out as soon as possible."

  "Sooner," warned Drew.

  Jonathan blinked and shifted his gaze from Drew to Emma. Idly she wondered how she had ever thought those blue eyes charming or handsome. "I already got a call from your lawyer this morning. You didn't waste any time, did you?"