“What were you like as a kid?” Tom asked.
“Fat.”
“No kidding.”
“No, sir. Tom.”
“Were you shy?” Joan asked.
“Yeah. Aren’t most kids shy?” he countered.
“I wasn’t,” she said.
“Most fat kids,” Muldoon corrected himself. “You try to make yourself invisible, which of course you can’t be, because you’re the fat kid.”
“So how did the fat kid become one of the most promising young officers in all of the SEAL teams?” Tom asked.
“Is he really?” Joan asked.
“Oh, yeah. He’ll make admiral some day, if he wants to. And I think he wants to.”
“Really?” Joan said. Muldoon had led her to believe otherwise—that he was planning to leave the Navy within the next ten years. Was it possible that he was willing to put a promising career backseat to their relationship? How dare he be so willing to give up his dreams? “Well, God. That’s…quite an impressive future to look forward to.”
She looked over to find him watching her again. He was no longer looking at her as if he were thinking about sliding deep inside of her. Now he was looking at her the way he’d looked at her after they’d made love, with a tenderness that was even harder to bear.
She pushed her salad aside. She had to get out of here.
God, she had to get out of California.
“There’s more to life than being in the Navy,” Muldoon said quietly. “I love being a SEAL—it’s what I always wanted to do—but I’m not sure I want to stay in after my knees give out for good.”
“Ah,” Tom said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”
Joan pushed back her chair. “Thank you so much for lunch, Commander. But I really have to go.”
“Not before you try the baklava. It’s unbelievable.” Tom stood up before she could. “Sit.” It was an order. “I’ll get us some coffee, too.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Of course, he hadn’t asked a question.
It was now her big chance to lambaste Muldoon for looking at her the way he had. But what was she supposed to say? Stop thinking about having sex with me!
“You don’t really think I’m shy, do you?” he asked.
“Well, you sure don’t like to talk about yourself.”
“I told you I was a math geek. A fat math geek.”
“Yeah,” Joan said. “You went into such depths about it, too.”
“What’s there to say?” he countered. “Kids used to make fun of me. I’m sure you remember what it was like back in school.”
“I do, which is why I find it hard to believe you can boil it all down to a single sentence.”
“It doesn’t do me any good to talk about all the different ways I was tormented as a kid,” Muldoon said. “I mean, what? Is that going to make you like me more? I don’t think so. It sucked, all right? I got over it. Next page.”
“Okay,” she said, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand as she gazed at him. Next page indeed. “Why did the fat math geek join the Navy?”
“To become a SEAL,” he answered without hesitation. “I wanted that from the time I was in seventh grade.”
Really? “So what happened in seventh grade?”
“I almost drowned,” he told her. “That was the year we moved to Maine from Ohio. Not much of a need to learn to swim in Ohio. At least not where we lived. I mean I knew the basics, sure, but I really couldn’t do more than doggy paddle.”
“So you took one look at the ocean and fell in and…?”
He shot her an exasperated look.
“Tell me the story. I’m dying of curiosity.”
“A couple of kids from school took me out on their father’s sailboat,” Muldoon said. “And we capsized. I almost drowned, but I didn’t.”
“Whoa,” she said. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is you, right? Fat math geek? And on top of that you’re the new kid. I remember the new kids in middle school. They were the lowest of low scum in the pecking order. And suddenly you’re getting invited out onto someone’s yacht?”
He laughed, and now she was the one who was having a hard time not thinking about him naked. They’d spent much of their night together laughing.
“Sailboat, not yacht,” he said. “It was a dinghy with a mast—which is way not a yacht. And I wasn’t invited. I was dared to go out one afternoon when the winds were pretty high—there was a storm coming. It was crazy.”
Oh, God. “And you were stupid enough not to say no. I thought math geeks were smarter than that.”
“I was stupid enough to hope I could gain their respect and maybe actually make a friend. And I wasn’t used to the Maine weather patterns yet. I didn’t realize it would be that dangerous; it just seemed really windy. So yes. We went out. And, man oh man, Joan, that puppy flew. I mean it soared.” He grinned at her, remembering. Even now, all these years later, that boat ride still turned him on. “It was amazing. I loved it—I didn’t ever want to stop.
“Of course, right about then we capsized, and the waves were so high, the dinghy just filled up and sank. They’re not supposed to do that, they’re designed to turn over and float, but this one went down like a rock. And Wayne was flipping out because Randy got knocked on the head by the boom and he was throwing up, right there in the water. It was all Wayne could do to keep them both afloat. And he was going, ‘We’re going to die! We’re gonna die!’ and I thought about this book I’d read about Navy frogmen and SEALs, and it was all about how they didn’t panic in the water, about how they didn’t fight the currents and waves, but used them to get where they wanted to go.
“So I grabbed Wayne by the back of his jeans and, well, we made it to shore.” He looked up and pushed himself halfway out of his chair as Tom carried three mugs of coffee toward the table. “Let me help you, sir.”
“Sit,” Tom ordered. “I’ve got it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Tom went back for the dessert.
“So then what?” Joan asked.
Muldoon took a sip of coffee and she did, too. It was hot and black with a hint of cinnamon.
“I ran for the nearest house and pounded on the door. They called 911 and we all went to the hospital. Randy stayed in for a few days. He actually had a hairline fracture of his skull. I remember sitting with Wayne in the waiting room, wrapped in blankets, waiting for our parents to come pick us up.”
“Don’t tell me,” Joan said. “After that, Wayne and Randy wanted to be your best friends, but you kept your distance, because not only were they cruel, they were stupid. And you were smart enough to not want to be friends with them. And you always just smiled whenever you saw them because you knew that without you, they would have drowned.”
Muldoon smiled and shook his head very slightly. He started to say something, but then Tom was there, carrying three plates with enormous slices of baklava.
“I’m going to have to toss this at you and run,” he told Joan. “I just got a call from Chip Crowley. I’m needed in his office.” He turned to Muldoon. “We’re going to get a chance to talk to Max Bhagat. I need you to go over to that restaurant that Larry Tucker likes so much—it’s right down here somewhere by the water—”
“I know where it is,” Muldoon said, getting to his feet. “It’s that French place where cell phone service doesn’t work. You walk in, and you might as well be on the moon.”
“Yeah, and the staff speaks with such strong French accents, you have no idea if they get your message straight if you call on the land line. Although you speak French, don’t you, Mike?”
“I’ll go over there, sir. It’s just around the corner.”
“Good. Find the senior chief and Jacquette,” Tom ordered. “I want them to join me at Crowley’s, ASAP. Thank you. And I’m sorry,” he added to Joan. He grabbed one of the pieces of baklava before he dashed away.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Muldoon said to her. “Can you wait?”
&
nbsp; “I can’t,” she lied.
“I guess I’ll see you later then,” he said.
“Mike, this friend thing isn’t working,” she said, but he, too, was already gone.
Mary Lou knew this was a terrible mistake long before the salads were served.
Bob looked incredible. He wore a suit with his tie neatly fastened, and his golden hair was slicked back from his face, a style that accentuated his male modelesque cheekbones.
He kept touching her. Her arm, her hand, her shoulder. And she knew he expected more than an opportunity to share a meal. She was married, but she’d said yes, and he’d thought she’d meant the Big Yes.
And when he’d called this morning, when she’d said it, maybe she had. It was more than obvious that she had no future with Sam. And it had been her MO in the past to hook up with a new lover before her old one was even out of her bed.
She’d always thought of it as finding a relationship parachute. The new man might not be perfect, but he’d keep her from spending even a single day alone.
The thought of being alone scared the shit out of her. And now she had Haley to take care of, too.
So here she was, and there was no doubt about it any longer. Bob Schwegel, Insurance Sales, wanted to fuck her. He was handsome, he was smart, he had money and a nice car.
He was, without a doubt, the perfect parachute.
But all she could think about was Ihbraham. Who loved her. Enough to keep his distance so that he didn’t fuck her.
And wasn’t that the oddest thing?
Bob was talking about his work, about selling insurance—which was just about as interesting to her as shoveling cow manure from a barn—and she let her mind wander.
Back to Ihbraham.
Who loved her.
Ihbraham, who, with his quiet gentleness, simply by sitting beside her and breathing, made her happier than she’d ever been in her entire life.
Even though he wasn’t a SEAL. Even though he wasn’t white. Even though he was only a gardener.
Bob put down his salad fork. “You’re not really interested in Mrs. Wilke’s policy changes, are you?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Have I told you that you look incredible tonight?” he asked.
He had. “Thank you,” she said again. The dress she was wearing was too tight across her chest, but Bob sure didn’t seem to mind. He kept scraping his eyes across her body, making her more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
Which was strange. Since when did it bother her to have a man check out her boobs with a look in his eye that broadcast his intent to have her naked within moments of leaving this table? She’d been entering—and winning—wet T-shirt contests since she was seventeen. She’d grown up on wolf whistles and catcalls, and had wondered what she was doing wrong when she walked down a silent street.
“I have to be honest, Mary Lou,” Bob told her now. “I want more than dinner from you. I’ve wanted you from the first time we met.”
And she knew part of what her problem was. She’d seen herself in her mirror before she left the house, and she knew she didn’t look hot. She looked pathetic and fat. Which meant that Bob was either blind or lying.
Ihbraham, however, loved her.
All she wanted was to pick up Haley from Mrs. U.’s and go home.
Mary Lou used her napkin to wipe her mouth and set it beside her plate. “I’m sorry, Bob. I really am, but I—”
“Hear me out, okay? I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I want you to come home with me, but not tonight.”
Well, wasn’t that…different.
“When you come to me,” he told her, “I want it to be permanent.” He leaned across the table, his eyes intense as he took her hand. “Leave your husband, Mary Lou. He doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated, the way I’ll treat you. Run away with me.”
She pulled her hand free. “That’s crazy. I can’t run away, I have a daughter.”
“You didn’t think I meant…” He laughed. “God, no. I meant we should all run away. Haley, too, of course. Remember that trip I’m taking to New York?”
She nodded.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, and I want you and Haley to come with me. Pack a suitcase, bring what you need—bring it with you to work. I’ll meet you, we’ll go pick up Haley from day care and leave right then and there. You told me you always wanted to go to New York. Come on, let’s do it. What do you say?”
She said nothing for a moment. She just sat there, looking at Bob across the table, and she knew that she was going to leave Sam. She was going to jump. And she did have a parachute.
But it wasn’t Bob.
No, she was going to leave Sam for Ihbraham.
Who loved her.
Bob was handsome and gleaming and perfect in so many ways. Mary Lou would bet her entire savings account that he was great in bed, too.
And if it weren’t for Ihbraham, she might be tempted to find out just how great he was.
But while she could’ve used Bob to cheat on Sam, she didn’t want to cheat on Ihbraham.
Who loved her. Who loved her.
She pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can. Sam treats you like shit, Mary Lou. We can really screw him while we’re at it—empty his bank accounts, use his credit cards—have fun while he pays for it.”
And it became very clear what Bob was after.
“I’m sorry,” she told him as she stood up to leave. “But I can’t go with you. I don’t love you and I honestly don’t believe that you love me.”
“You busy?” Muldoon said quietly into his cell phone.
Joan was sitting on the other side of the crowded room, and she turned to look at him, shaking her head slightly. “What do you think?”
It was the so-called final meeting before tomorrow’s presidential extravaganza, and Admiral Tucker was standing up at the front of the room, giving a long-winded speech about…well, Muldoon wasn’t sure exactly what Tucker was talking about, but the man’s public speaking skills were legendarily bad, and as usual, he’d gone into repeat mode.
Everything of importance had already been said by the men who were truly in charge of the SEAL demonstration. Lieutenant Commander Paoletti had given a few last-minute instructions and talked about some changes. He was still feeling unhappy about releasing smoke into the crowd and had announced that he was taking it upon himself to play it by ear tomorrow. If he had any sense that there might be trouble, he was reserving the right not to use the smoke.
Muldoon had had a chance to talk to the CO after his meeting with FBI team leader Max Bhagat. Apparently whatever Bhagat said hadn’t reassured him.
Bhagat was here now, with a small group of agents from his counterterrorist team, including the infamous Alyssa Locke and a man Muldoon had met in Indonesia last year—George Faulkner. Good guy. Solid sense of humor considering he spent all that time each day in a suit.
“I’m thinking about getting something to eat—maybe a slice of pizza—and having a beer after this endurance test is over,” Muldoon whispered into his cell phone.
“Wow, one whole slice of pizza,” Joan said. “Go crazy.” As he watched, she got to her feet and quietly slipped out of the room, standing just outside the half-opened doorway to the corridor. This way she could talk quietly without disturbing anyone.
Good idea.
But to get over to where she was now standing, Muldoon would have to cross directly in front of Admiral Tucker—not a smart career move. Instead he went out the open doors on the other side of the room. He could see Joan from where he stood, and even though he was standing in shadows, he knew she could see him, too.
“I still watch my weight,” he told her quietly. “Force of habit. I’m aware of how many calories I burn each day, and I eat accordingly. Today was a one-slice day. Believe me, there are days when I just start eating from the moment I get up to the moment I go to sleep and I�
��ll still lose weight—which is not something I’m looking to do, because when I lose weight these days, I lose muscle mass. BUD/S training was like that—you eat to refuel, and you need lots of fuel. Some guys come home after a particularly strenuous op, and they keep eating huge amounts, but they’re not burning the calories anymore and…that’s when you can run into trouble.”
“And yet you encourage me to have dessert.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to run eight-minute miles. I think women should have curves. I think there are too many people these days who confuse being skinny with being physically fit. Starving yourself down to skin and bones doesn’t make you healthy. On the contrary.”
“I know that,” she said. “It’s just hard to stand next to a woman who’s scary-thin and not feel…large. I feel large most of the time,” she admitted.
“Maybe you should spend more time standing next to me,” he suggested. And maybe that was a little too friendly, because across the room, over in the other hallway, he saw her sigh.
Okay, don’t let her talk. Don’t let her start that same old “I don’t think this friends thing is working” speech that she’d tried to deliver all the other times he’d called her on her cell phone this afternoon.
Calling her was, without a doubt, the only way he could talk to her. Their afternoon was filled with downtime, but they both had to be in range of their superiors—ready to leap into action if necessary.
“You’re in excellent shape, by the way. You’re the perfect weight for a woman of your height,” he told her in an attempt to hold on to the conversational ball. “I couldn’t help but, you know, notice when, uh…” When she was naked and in his arms. Damn, that was not the way to go, either. This platonic friendship thing was much harder than he’d dreamed it would be.
He wanted to make love to her again so desperately that it was all he could do not to lie down right there in the hall and howl in frustration.
“So. Pizza?” he said instead.
“I’ve got more meetings to go to,” she said. “This might be it for you, but I’ve still got Brooke duty to take care of tonight.”
Into the Night Page 42
