“Nice view,” he said between heavy breaths, his fingers running down over her stomach as she leaned backward in an awkward position. “Are you okay down there?”
She was breathing as hard as he was, her body still clenched in aftershocks. “I’m standing on my head, thank you very much. Here. Pull me up.”
He brushed her hand aside and traced the centerline of her body from her navel upward with his index finger. “You’re perfectly symmetrical. I like that in a woman.”
“Wow. You used a big word,” she teased. “Come on. Pull me up.”
He tickled her again, inciting another round of wiggles. “I know all kinds of big words. Sym-met-ri-cal. It means you got two boobs, one on each side of yer body.” He poured on the Texas twang as he reached for his nightstand drawer behind him. The drawl always worked before. He counted on it for distraction now.
“Stop it.” Judy tried to sound stern, but giggles came up from the carpet. She reached for him again, the silly woman, like he’d give up so easily.
“Ooooo. Do that again.” He enjoyed the way she’d just tightened in all the best places. A man didn’t get to feel the upside-down version of his woman often enough. Why rush?
“Harley!”
“Yeah. Right there. Do it again, darlin’.” He rocked into her a few times as he extracted the ring from its box. “Okay. Give me your hand. Come on. Stretch. You can do it.”
“It’s about time.” She reached for him.
“Nope. Just need this one.” He latched onto her left hand and slipped the ring onto the finger next to her pinkie. The chocolate diamond he’d given her still sparkled on her right hand, but this pure white stone meant something entirely different. His breath caught. Their world was about to change.
“What’s this?”
“Do I have to explain everything?”
She didn’t answer.
He stopped thinking he was charming. “You still okay down there?”
“No. I’m not playing anymore. Help me up.”
He obeyed. With his nose in her hair and his heart thumping, all he needed was one word to make his life complete. Judy breathed hard against him, her face in his shoulder. She hadn’t spoken yet, but she was holding on tight. That helped.
He started slowly. “I know we just signed a thirty-year mortgage on this old farm together, but the truth is that surprised me. Guess I couldn’t believe you’d stay this long, not with a guy like me.”
She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.
“It’s kind of strange how the people you least expect to turn their backs on you, do; while the ones who have every right to kick your ass to the curb—don’t.”
“But I love you. Surely you know that.”
“I know, darlin’, I know. But you’ve allowed me to treat you less than a lady, and for that, I am sorry. I’ve been taking you for granted. You deserve better than me. You always will.”
The truest love glistened in her eyes.
He kept on keeping on. “People have been known to fall out of love.”
“I’m not like your parents, Harley.”
He hadn’t meant them, but then again, maybe he did. “The thing is I’m not the handsomest guy around, but I have a good job and,” his throat constricted with his heart stuck in it like it was, “I’m sure not the smartest. You are. The god’s honest truth is all I’ve got to offer is—I love you, Judy. I can’t imagine waking up and not having you by my side. It’s high time I do the honorable thing. Would you grant me the pleasure of living with you and for you the rest of my life? Would you marry me?”
Harley gulped, the question asked and his heart on the line. Despite the fact she’d moved across country to live with him, this was a long shot. She’d never say yes, not to a lifetime with a guy like him. Living together was one thing, but marriage? No way. Judy O’Brien was a smart lady.
“You have a lot of nerve asking that after you let me stand on my head,” she said quietly.
Okay, that was not exactly the answer he wanted, but it was the one he deserved. The game was on. If he could dish it out, he could take it.
She pulled away. Judy could not have looked prettier, her entire body flushed to match the cascade of silken fire spilling over her shoulders. Everything about this woman glowed, from the trim but nicely rounded backside she was almost showing him to her pleasingly full breasts. He enjoyed the view more when she stretched to reach her nightstand and removed something so small from the drawer that he couldn’t tell what it was.
When she straightened that luscious body against his again, Judy intercepted his left hand. Raising it to her lips, she placed a kiss on his ring finger along with a silver ring. “I’ve been waiting to ask you the same question. Would you, Harley Mortimer, be my soul mate for all eternity?”
Her eyelashes glistened. So did his. Harley had no defenses against this lady. None whatsoever. With a groan, he pressed her to his heart. She didn’t need to see him cry. Not again.
“I already am,” he breathed into her hair. “I love you. You mean everything to me. I will honor you every second for the rest of my life, darlin’. I promise. I swear. God, yes.”
Her sigh warmed the hollow of his neck. “I have no doubts about you, Harley. I never did. My answer was yes the moment I asked you to dance.”
He anointed the top of her pretty head with a few more tears.
Eternity. Best E word ever.
THE END
Sneak Preview of Connor
Book 5
In the Company of Snipers
Eighteen months earlier....
“Damn it.”
USMC Sergeant Isabella Ramos cursed as her ammo clip hit the dirt on the other side of the wall. The farther she reached for it, the more newly promoted Sergeant Connor Maher could not help but notice. He didn’t write the rules of nature. A man’s always gonna look, and this particular gal’s derrière, albeit camouflaged in the uniform of the day and plenty of dust, made for an excellent view. What red-blooded, all American male would miss a free show?
One minute Ramos was seated all nice and comfortable on that three-foot wall. The next, she was bent over it, damn near ass over teakettles with her boots, legs and butt on display. He glanced away, not wanting to be caught looking, at least not by her.
He and his buddy Jamie were part of the United States’ military response to the increasingly violent Iraqi insurgency in Fallujah. Ramos got the short end of the stick when their commanding officer decided someone needed to show the two newly arrived non-commissioned officers the lay of the land, and just like that, they got a snappy tour of U.S. Camp Baharia and along with it, a floorshow that couldn’t be beat.
The good thing about predominantly USMC Camp Baharia was the large clear water lake in the center of it. The bad thing was it was still in Iraq. The once-upon-a-time desert-resort was now filled with hard-core military men and women who sometimes forgot how to behave. Like Lance Corporal Jamie Ramos, who by sheer coincidence shared the sergeant’s last name, but obviously not her dedication to the Corps.
Already passed over once for promotion, Jamie was headed for trouble with his CO. He didn’t seem to have a problem with his rifle qualification or combat fitness, but his true talents lay in another direction. Jamie was a tease to the mathematical power of a gazillion, and that was going to land him in the brig one of these days.
“You know you want to.” He elbowed Connor again, urging him to do the unthinkable. “Just one little smack. It’s easy. I’ve done it a million times. No one else will see you. Just walk over, lay one on her ass, and run like hell. She’s short. Go on. Do it.”
“Shut up,” Connor muttered out of the corner of his mouth, glancing again at the ass in question and doubting the ‘I’ve done it a million times’ line. “You know better than to treat women like that. Knock it off.”
“What’s she gonna do? You’re both the same rank.” Jamie persisted. “She can’t catch you. It’ll be fun.”
“Cut the
crap. She’s a lady.”
“No, she ain’t. She’s a jarhead. Loosen up. Walk on the wild side for once in your geeky life.”
Connor glanced at Ramos again. Damn. That ass was spank-a-licious and hard to keep his eyes off of. This dark-haired and olive-skinned beauty had potential in his book. Lots of potential. He didn’t want Jamie’s crazy antics to blow his chances before he knew if he had any.
Raised in a house filled with six younger brothers and no sisters, women still perplexed Connor. Sometimes they loved a guy who only two seconds earlier they’d hated. He couldn’t keep up. Besides, his mother had taught him early what Jamie’s education must have missed. A real man does not disrespect any woman. They were to be treated like ladies even if they cussed like sailors. He’d grown to appreciate Bridgette Maher’s wise sayings more now that he was out of her house. Treat a woman like a lady and she’ll never turn into a nag.
With a twinkle in his eye, Jamie edged closer to the irritated sergeant’s backside, a big cheesy smirk on his trouble-making face. She tipped farther over the wall, the toes of her boots nearly off the ground and still cussing a blue streak. No way was Connor getting close to that action. He shook his head and mouthed a definite, No. Do not do it.
Jamie’s eyes brightened with, Are you daring me, man?
Connor didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head. Either way spelled trouble.
Jamie’s left eyebrow spiked into an incredibly wicked, ‘Here goes.’ His arm lifted higher.
Connor shook his head, disgusted at himself for letting Jamie take a prank this far. He stepped forward to halt the wise guy before things got anymore out of hand. Retrieving the clip in question would solve the Sergeant’s problem and torpedo Jamie’s stand-up comedy once and for all.
“Excuse me, ma’am—”
Jamie’s perfectly white teeth flashed to a big shitty grin. His flattened hand lifted over the rump in question. Apparently, Ramos hadn’t heard Connor leaning over the wall like she was. He was nearly behind her. “Ma’am, let me get that for—”
The Sergeant tipped one booted foot to the sky and exclaimed, “Finally. Got the damned thing.”
SMACK! Jamie did it.
Sergeant Ramos came off that wall so fast she landed in Connor’s arms. The deadly scopes of a sniper skewered her one man viewing audience. Connor gulped. He caught a peripheral of his trouble-making buddy. Jamie was on his knees. At the end of wall. Out of sight. Clear out of sight.
Ramos could only see—
Oh, sweet Mother Mary and Joseph.
Those sizzling brown windows to a she-devil’s soul were pointed at—him.
Equal rank or not, something about this diminutive spitfire stomped the hell out of his ego from the first moment he’d seen her. She was a cherry bomb with a short fuse and right now, he was cannon fodder. With the meanest reputation in the squad, she could teach the drill sergeant’s How to Be an SOB class all by herself.
Crap. I’ll be busted back to private first class.
“You want to die right here and now, Boston?” she hissed, her shoulders rolling along with her swagger. How could a gal with such sexy brown eyes be so mean and sound so tough? His eyes refused to move off of her, even though her top lip was curled over a wicked Devil Dog bite. Hot damn. If I’m dying, it’s gonna hurt, but I’m going to heaven.
“Ahh, no, sir – I mean—no, ma’am—I mean—” He took a full step back to get her out of her personal space, stuttering like an idiot until he noticed the pistol in her open holster. Crap turned to shit. Jamie still crouched with his hand clamped over his big fat mouth he was laughing so hard. Right then and there, Connor was tempted to hand his buddy over. But real men don’t do that either.
“You think hitting another soldier’s ass is funny?” She came to a stop under Connor’s chin, her eyes dark and deadly, full of the promise of nothing but pain. Maybe death.
“No, ma’am, I do not.”
God, she was so damned gorgeous. Yeah, she radiated a certain amount of radioactive hostility, and he was pretty sure he glowed already, but damn. What a package. He couldn’t catch his breath with her standing this close. His nose filled with the lovely whiff of roses and incense. How fitting. The sweetness of a flower mingled with the unmistakable hint of burning ash. He’d been an alter boy. He ought to know.
That drab green T-shirt peeking up from her uniform did not conceal the rounded landscape beneath from a man of his height either. Six-foot-three should be the one doing the intimidating instead of peering down a woman’s shirt like he was. The thought of peeling her out of those desert cammies tweaked his common sense. He wanted to touch. Hell, he wanted to fondle, pet, and a whole lot more.
Should I pour on the Maher charm?
Sizzling death glowered up at him, not even blinking once and full on daring him to keep breathing.
Ah, maybe not.
The verbal assault commenced. “I’m gonna make you wish you died during boot camp, you pig-faced, camel-lipped, piece of...”
He took it like a man - almost. His jaw kept moving, but sound had ceased coming out. Article 128 of the United States Code of Military Justice flashed through his oxygen-deprived brain. Question: Is a slap on the butt considered sexual battery?
Answer: Damn straight. Don’t touch. Don’t tell. And all that stuff.
Jamie howled, at last overcome by his own hysterics.
Ramos shot a scorching look over her shoulder. “You!”
The instant she looked way, the magic faded. Connor was half-inclined to cup her chin and direct her gaze back to him. Angry or not, at least she’d seen him. Just him. Not Jamie.
“Why don’t you grow up?” Kicking a boot scrape of sand in Jamie’s face, she stalked off, which only made him laugh harder. The dumb ass looked like he was having a heart attack the way his face was all screwed up.
Oddly, Connor felt a chill when she left. A chill in Iraq? How did that work? He watched her walk away, her dark brown ponytail twitching side to side in time with her butt, both sassy as hell. He took one step forward to follow and apologize before he came to his senses.
Not now. Let her cool off. Mad women were unpredictable.
“You shoulda... You shoulda....” Still laughing his guts out, Jamie had tears streaming over his cheeks. “I mean it. You shoulda seen the look on your face!”
“You could get me court-martialed,” Connor ground out, his gaze back on the command tent Ramos had disappeared into. He wasn’t so much scared as interested. Maybe it was all those blond brothers he’d grown up with, but dark-eyed girls always caught his attention. Hers seemed darker than most, full of sparks, promise, and a whopping dose of cayenne. The moment he’d seen her, he knew. They would spend time together.
“Oh, hell.” Jamie pulled himself onto the wall. “Don’t worry. She won’t do anything. You’re safe.”
“Yeah, right. You ever heard of friendly fire? She was an MP sniper. Now I gotta watch my back the rest of my rotation.”
Jamie guffawed through another laughing attack. Connor had half a mind to kick his friend’s ass if it would douse the hysterics. Jamie was a fun-loving, risk taking Hispanic who could charm the socks off most ladies. Didn’t seem to have had any effect on the sergeant though.
Finally, he turned semi-serious. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your six. You know that, Bro.”
“Bullshit, you do.”
“No, really. I’ve seen how you look at her.” Jamie almost sounded sincere. “Remember how I told you I’d never seen her before, how lots of us Hispanics got the same last names only it don’t mean we’re related? You know, like Martinez, Gonzales, Sanchez, Moreno, Garcia?”
“So what?” He could feel it coming. The joke wasn’t over yet.
Jamie winked. “I lied. That’s Izza. My sister.”
(Photo by Kelli Ann Morgan)
Irish Winters is an award-winning author who dabbles in poetry, grandchildren, and rarely (as in extremely rarely) the kitchen. More prone to be outdoors th
an in, she grew up the quintessential tomboy on a farm in rural Wisconsin, spent her teenage years in the Pacific Northwest, but calls the Wasatch Mountains of Northern Utah home. For now.
The wife of one handsome husband and mother of three perfect sons, Irish divides her time between writing at home, and travelling the country with her man while – writing. (Seriously, what else?)
She believes in making every day count for something, and follows the wise admonition of her mother to, “Look out the window and see something!”
To learn more about Irish and her books, please visit www.IrishWinters.com.
Acknowledgements
There are many to thank for where I am today.
For my beta readers, Nancy Richardson and Lynn Hill, we’ve shared laughs, tears, and a few margaritas. Hope you’ll stick with me for book 13. It’s on the laptop and book 14 is jelling.
For Cas Peace, my editor, who offers constructive criticism with a gentle touch. Your page-by-page analysis and course corrections continue to amaze me. You seem to know just how to tweak my plot, my characters, even me to get the best out of all of us.
For Emmaline and Rhett Hoffmeister, my amazing layout designer and cover artist, what can I say? You two have given freely of your time and talent, and you’re always there for me. I’m still living my dream because of the dynamic duo of the Hoffmeister Team.
For my fans? I am speechless. You are the most dedicated, fun, awe-inspiring group of crazy people I’ve ever met! Keep emailing, Face-booking, and contacting me.
And as always, I end with my husband, Bill. Thanks for putting up with this wild adventure of mine. I’m hoping you’ll stick with me for the next forty or so years. Who knew our second childhoods could be so much fun?
COPYRIGHT
Harley; In the Company of Snipers, 4
Kindle Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Harley (In the Company of Snipers Book 4) Page 29
