by Leanne Banks
“Oh, come on. It’s no skin off your nose. One drink.” Eugene pointed to the pile of papers on Brock’s desk. “It’s not like you’ll be doing anything better. It looks like all you do is work.”
In other circumstances, Brock would be tempted to deliver a kiwi-injection—otherwise known as a swift kick in the rear—to Eugene, but he couldn’t ignore the pinch of truth in the graduate student’s words. Was he becoming a hermit, buried in his work? Disliking the thought, he frowned. “Okay, tomorrow after work. One drink.”
Eugene immediately brightened, swinging his fist through the air. “Great. You won’t regret it.” He lowered his voice in a confidential tone. “I hear Beth is downright easy for the right guy. You could get lucky.”
Quit while you’re ahead, Brock thought, but stifled the words. “One drink tomorrow after work,” he repeated. “If you don’t mind, close the door on your way out,” Brock said, scowling as the young man left.
Scrubbing his hand through his hair, he picked up the photo again and drank in the sight of Callie. His gut twisted with longing. What he wouldn’t give just to see her again, but she’d made it clear he was temporary. She didn’t want anything permanent with him.
He missed her.
Yes, he could function without her. Yes, he was able to feed himself, get his work done and even watch a ballgame. But nothing was half as much fun.
Heaven help him, he was one sorry sonofabitch. He shoved the photo into a drawer so he wouldn’t see it. Maybe he needed to forget her. Maybe he needed to go out with Beth and have a few too many and then maybe have Beth, too.
The following afternoon it rained again. His leg was killing him as he held an umbrella and escorted Beth Pritchard to a trendy bar two blocks away from the office. He and Beth followed Eugene and Linda. She had great legs, a killer body and a voice that made him want to chew glass. He’d only noticed her across the room before, so he hadn’t known she possessed such a nasal, grating tone.
She chatted about her family and college background and attempted to engage Brock in conversation. By the time the foursome arrived at the bar, Brock was ready for a double of anything hard to drink.
“Eugene tells me you were a Marine,” Beth said, scooting her bar stool close to his. “Did you see any action?”
Brock nodded. “What do you want to drink?”
“A sour apple martini,” she said.
“Whiskey,” he said to the bartender. “Double.”
“Tell me what it was like being a Marine,” she said. “I have a thing about men in uniform.”
“I don’t wear it anymore,” he said.
She slid her hand onto his thigh. “That’s okay. It’s what’s underneath that really matters.”
Caught off guard at her brazenness, he swiveled toward the bar, away from her touch. “The drinks are here.”
“Do you like to dance?”
I did with Callie, he thought, remembering dancing with her and how she had felt like magic in his arms. “I haven’t done much dancing since I left the Corps. One of my legs was injured and—”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said. “I bet you could slow dance, though.”
With the right woman, he thought. Aw, hell, this wasn’t going well at all. He downed his whiskey in two gulps. “Listen, I don’t really feel like being here tonight, so—”
She leaned closer and slid her hand onto his thigh again. “We can go to my house.”
He sighed. “Beth, I’m—”
“Excuse me,” a familiar female voice said from a few feet away. “Pardon me. Is Brock Armstrong here?”
Unable to believe his ears, he swiveled around to find Callie standing in front of the bar looking like a drowned rat as she gripped a drooping bouquet of roses in one hand and the heel of her shoe in the other.
“Callie?” was all he could say.
Her gaze swiveled away from the bartender to his and his heart tripped over itself.
“Surprise,” she said with an unsteady smile. “It’s me. I got a makeover at one of the salons this morning, but the rain washed it away. I broke the heel of my shoe on a manhole.” She glanced at Beth. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” he said.
Beth frowned. “I’m Beth Pritchard. Brock and I work together.”
Callie nodded. “How nice for you. I’m Callie Newton. Brock and I got to know each other this summer.” He saw the moment she noticed Beth’s hand on his thigh. She bit her lip, looking suddenly uncertain. “You know, maybe this is a bad time. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
Feeling a slice of desperation cut through him, he stood and reached for her arm. “No, it was a great idea. I’ve picked up the phone to call you too many times to count.”
She glanced at Beth again. “Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. She squeezed her forehead. “I think I’ve been way too impulsive and—”
“Callie,” he interrupted, putting his hands on both her shoulders and gently shaking. “Why are you here?”
She met his gaze and opened her mouth, then closed it. Her gaze slid to Beth and back to Brock. “Are you and her—” She broke off and shook her head. “Oh, I shouldn’t ask. I have no right to ask. It’s none of my business and—”
“We’re not,” Brock said. “We’re not anything. This is the first time I’ve been out since I moved to Atlanta. Eugene twisted my arm because he wanted to get with Linda. This was part of the trade-off.”
Brock held his breath while Callie paused and studied him. “So you’re not involved,” she said.
“Not at all,” he said. “Why are you here, Callie?” he asked, unable to take his gaze off of her.
She took a careful breath and lifted her chin as if she were fortifying herself. “I want to ask you a favor,” she said.
“A favor?” he echoed, confused as hell.
“Well I wasn’t going to say favor,” she amended and swore under her breath. “I had this all planned out and practiced it on the drive down and I can’t remember a freakin’ word of it now. Here,” she said, thrusting the roses into his arms. “These are for you.”
Touched and surprised, he gaped at her. “For me?”
“Yes, and this, too,” she said, pulling a CD from the purse hanging on her shoulder.
“Whoa. What’s—” He glanced at the CD. “Jimmy Buffet?”
“I’m here to kidnap you. I’m going to the Caribbean and I would like to take someone very special with me.” She bit her lip. “That someone very special would be you.”
Too shocked for words, all he could do was stare at her, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it throb in his brain.
She pulled back slightly, color rising to her cheeks. “See? I told you it was impulsive, insane, crazy. I shouldn’t have—”
“When does the plane leave?” he asked, finally finding his voice.
She blinked. “Tomorrow.”
“You want to go back to my place and help me pack?”
Her turn to be speechless. She opened her mouth and her jaw worked, but no sound came out. “Are you sure?”
He lifted his hand to cup her jaw. Her skin was so soft, her heart so sweet and his chest squeezed so tight it hurt. This was his chance with her and he was going to take it. He hoped Rob wouldn’t mind. “I’m sure,” he said.
Twenty-four hours later, they were sharing a chaise lounge watching the sun set. He was drinking a beer. She was drinking a Hurricane.
Sitting between his legs with her hair against his chest, she gave a long sigh. “I’m glad I did this.”
“Me, too,” he said, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. They’d made love three times, but hadn’t talked about anything important.
“I was scared you would say no.”
“What gave you the cojones to do it then?”
She turned slightly and looked at him. “Well, you did tell me to call you for any reason.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod, wanting more from her, but not wanting to ask
.
“Regrets?” she asked, searching his face.
“I regret that we’ve been apart for the last three months,” he said quietly, finding it more and more difficult to cover how deep his feelings were for her.
Setting her drink down on the balcony floor beside her, she turned the rest of the way around onto his lap so that she was facing him. “I do and I don’t,” she said.
He frowned in confusion.
She lifted her hands to his shoulders and traced them with her fingertips. “I know it sounds strange, but I was such a mess when I first met you. You helped pull me out of my black hole and I think I needed to be by myself for a little bit.”
His gut tightened. “And now?”
“I want to be strong enough for you,” she said, meeting his gaze.
“What?”
“I don’t want to always be leaning on you. I don’t want you to always lead with me always following.” She bit her lip. “I’ve done that before.”
Her eyes were dark with an emotion he sensed was almost as deep as his, but he was almost afraid to hope. “So what do you want, Callie?”
“I want to take turns.” She searched for his hand and laced her fingers through his. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want to be temporary,” he said, hearing the huskiness in his voice, but unable to do a damn thing about it.
“Oh.”
Brock put it all on the line. “I’m in love with you,” he said. “I want to marry you.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I am. But I’m not sure how you feel about me, how you feel about Rob.”
She took a deep breath. “I’ll always love Rob and he’ll always be a part of me. I didn’t think I could love again, but I was wrong. This may sound strange to you, but I kinda feel like Rob gave me you.”
Something eased inside Brock. Maybe Rob wouldn’t hate him for loving Callie.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “When you’re near me, it’s like the sun is shining even if it’s pouring down rain.”
“Really?” she asked, her smile lighting her face.
“Yeah, really.”
She threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “You’re so strong. I had to make sure I was strong enough for you.”
“There’s brute strength and there’s magic. You’re the magic.”
Twelve months later, Brock kidnapped his wife and took her on a trip to the Caribbean. She was sipping lemonade and he was drinking a beer. It was afternoon, and she lay between his legs on a chaise lounge with her gorgeous seven-months-pregnant belly exposed to the waning afternoon sun.
She touched her belly and gave a breathless chuckle. Brock had watched her often enough to know what that meant—the baby had moved.
He slid his hand over her stomach and felt a kick. He smiled and stroked her hair with his other hand. “How does cupcake like the Caribbean?” he asked. Cupcake was Callie’s name for the baby.
She turned slightly and looked up at him with loving eyes that still made his heart turn over. “Cupcake loves the Caribbean. Cupcake is going to be a weekend beach baby.”
“Just like Momma,” he said. “Have you hated the city as much as you thought you would?” He’d worried about that. She’d been so emphatic about detesting the traffic and noise.
She shook her head. “How could I hate it when I’m with you? Besides, you lured me with such a nice house in a nice woodsy neighborhood and tucked me into a cul de sac. You come home every day and love me every night, and sometimes you even cook dinner. You made peace with my cat and let him move in with us, too.”
He lowered his head to taste her lips. Heaven help him, he still couldn’t get enough of her.
She sighed in pleasure against his mouth. “Plus you let me kidnap you to the beach almost every weekend.” She paused a half beat. “My only complaint is that you won’t let me include my drawings of you in my show next month.”
Brock chuckled. He knew she was teasing. “I thought your nude drawings of me were supposed to be just for us.”
“The artist in me wants to share them. After all, they took so long for me to complete because you kept interrupting me while I was drawing.”
He skimmed his hand down her throat to her now-blooming cleavage. “I don’t recall you complaining too much at the time.”
“Well, you didn’t—”
He slid his finger underneath her halter top to touch her nipple. Her breasts had become delightfully sensitive to his touch due to her advancing pregnancy.
She closed her eyes and made a soft breathy sound.
He toyed with both stiff peaks, enjoying her sensual movements.
She opened her eyes. “You’re distracting me again.”
“It’s one of my favorite things to do.”
Sighing, she shifted slightly and lifted her lips to kiss him. “I am totally crazy for you, Brock Armstrong.”
His heart melted in his chest the same way it did every time she assured him how much she loved him. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was his.
“I love how you encourage me with my art. I love how you take care of me and let me take care of you. I love how you helped me make the memory box for Rob and hung it on the wall in the den.”
“He’s a part of you. I’ll always be grateful to him, Callie. I’m sorry we lost him, but he gave me something more precious than I could have dreamed.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”
“Same for me, sunshine. I guess we’ll just have to keep showing each other.” He dropped a kiss on her soft, sweet mouth. Showing her how much he loved her would be his favorite mission for the rest of his life.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5410-1
BETWEEN DUTY AND DESIRE
Copyright © 2004 by Leanne Banks
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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