Marry Me, Major

by Merline Lovelace

  “Are you sure? You don’t look fine.”

  “I am. Honestly.” Alex pushed to her feet and forced a smile. “Thanks for stopping to ask, though.”

  “My car’s right around the corner. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I just live a few blocks from here. The walk will clear my head.”

  “I wish you’d let me drive you.”

  “I’m okay. Really. But again, thank you.”

  * * *

  The short walk actually did clear her head. So much that she realized she only had one choice. She and Ben should end their sham marriage now, before either of them got in any deeper.

  Or...

  Or...

  They could make it real.

  The thought crept up on her slowly, hesitantly. Like a stray puppy not sure of its welcome. A long-term commitment had in no way, shape or form figured in her plans. God knew she had enough on her plate to deal with. Yet the possibility burrowed its way in her head and, annoyingly, took on a life of its own.

  Her overriding instinct was to reject it out of hand. She and Ben barely knew each other. Their lives were too different, too divergent. But...

  Despite her instincts, the positives began to elbow out the negatives. Why not make it real? Neither of them could deny they were attracted to each other. And they’d certainly proved their sexual compatibility during that wild weekend. Plenty of couples would jump into marriage on that basis alone.

  More important in her mind was that Ben sympathized with her determination to gain custody of Maria. He wouldn’t have agreed to her proposal otherwise. So what if neither of them was driven by that indefinable, ambiguous notion of L-O-V-E? Alex didn’t need stars in her eyes or the fairy-tale promise of happily-ever-after. She needed—wanted!—the kind of safe, solid, nonturbulent relationship her every instinct said Major Ben Kincaid would provide. So she would ask him, she decided as she marched up the walk to her casita.

  To marry her.

  For real.

  That was the plan, anyway. Right up until she let herself into the house, headed down the hall to her bedroom and found him encasing his left leg from toe to knee in Saran Wrap. Half amused, half exasperated, Alex tossed her house keys on the dresser.

  “I hope you’re not planning what I think you are.”

  He sent her a quick glance over his shoulder. “If you think I’m planning to hit the shower, I am.”

  “That’s crazy. Look, there’s a drugstore a few blocks away. I’m sure they sell some sort of waterproof sleeve to go over casts.”

  “I’ll pick one up later. In the meantime...” The plastic whooshed as he tugged it from the roll and continued wrapping. “Remember that SERE training I told you about? If we didn’t learn anything else during those weeks in hell, we learned how to improvise. You wouldn’t believe what you can do with a standard issue poncho and some duct tape. This’ll work just as well.”

  “But...”

  “Sorry, Alex. Last time I showered and shaved was right before I picked you up for the flight to Vegas. I need to sluice off.”

  He gave the plastic a final wrap, tore off the end and tucked it in, then straightened and tossed the roll aside.

  “Good thing I left some of my stuff here. Mind getting those blue jersey sweatpants and shirt out of the drawer for me?”

  Since he was already peeling off the V-necked scrub top, Alex yielded to the inevitable. He was up on his good foot, the crutches in place and the scrub pants riding low on his hips when she returned with the requested items.

  “I’ll take a shower when you’re done,” she said, trying not to fixate on the wide expanse of bare chest filling her vision. “I feel pretty gritty, too, after sleeping in these clothes last night.”

  “Or...” he waggled his brows “...we could conserve water and take one together.”

  He’d tossed out the suggestion as a joke. Mostly. But once it was there, hanging between them, it generated a sudden charge.

  The amused glint faded from his eyes and his voice took on a husky edge. “Seems like I recall us getting naked and wet before.”

  They had. At least twice in the shower and once in the hot tub that came with their suite. The memory of those erotic encounters made Alex’s pulse skip almost as much as the knuckle he brushed down her cheek.

  “I know we agreed that sex wouldn’t be part of the deal,” he murmured, holding her eyes with his, “but I’m willing to renegotiate the terms of our agreement if you are.”

  Alex caught her breath. Just moments ago she’d decided to offer him a choice to opt out of their marriage or dive all the way in. He’d just opened the door for her.

  “You sure you want to complicate things between us even more than they already are?” she asked.

  “Why not?”

  His knuckle made another pass. Slowly. Deliberately. Then his hand slid to her nape. The palm was rough against her skin, the eyes holding hers deep blue and steady.

  “The way I see it, we’ve already jumped aboard a moving train. Might as well see where it takes us.”

  “It could take us on a rocky ride.”

  “It could.”

  “Just to be clear, I’m talking long term here, Cowboy. You. Me. Maria.”

  That gave him pause. Hesitation flickered across his face. “I don’t know how good I’ll be at long term. Haven’t had any practice at it.”

  “I’m willing to take my chances if you are.”

  His gaze was serious now, his hand still on her nape. “What about the hearts and flowers, Alex? The romance and passion? Isn’t that what every woman looks for in a marriage?”

  “Somehow I don’t think passion will be a problem,” she responded drily. “As for romance...?” Shrugging, she surrendered the last of her girlish dreams. “I suspect it’s probably way overrated. But you can still back out, Ben. Now’s the time to cut your losses and run. The odds are against us here.”

  He responded the way she suspected he always would to a challenge. His grin slipped out and all trace of hesitation left his face.

  “Hell, Alex, life’s pretty much one big crapshoot. Now, about that passion...”

  Chapter Six

  This wasn’t the first time they’d locked lips since their explosive weekend in Vegas. Just a few days ago they’d sealed their wedding vows with a kiss. They’d shared another before he’d left for his aborted deployment.

  Neither of those two experiences came anywhere close to the intensity of this one, however. Alex couldn’t imagine how Ben maintained his balance with one foot off the floor and the crutches jammed under his arms, but he did. So well, in fact, that her chest was crushed against his and their hips were locked in a hard, intimate embrace.

  The feel of him, the taste of him, started a slow smoldering in her blood. The heat gathered steam and flowed through her veins, searing the surface of her skin. She wrapped her arms around his waist, supporting him, supporting herself, while the flame burned hot and bright in her belly.

  Alex couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this sudden, raging need. Not in the past two years, certainly. Taking care of Janet in her last weeks, assuming responsibility for Maria, starting a business and battling Janet’s jerk of an ex for child support and custody... Those events had crowded one on top of the other and left her exhausted both physically and emotionally. Hooking up with some stud to relieve her tension had never even entered her mind.

  Until now. Now all she could think of, all she wanted, was her hands on Ben and his on her. But first...

  She broke the kiss and pulled in a shuddering breath. “You can’t stay perched on one foot indefinitely. If we’re going to do this, we need to get in the shower, then get horizontal.”

  “I vote we skip the shower,” he said, his blue eyes stormy, “and go straight to horizontal.”

  Her heart w
as fluttering in her throat but she managed a laugh. “And waste all that Saran Wrap?”

  Besides which, she really did feel gritty and was probably more than a little aromatic.

  Thankfully, the shower was a roomy walk-in crafted with glass blocks and a tiled bench at the back that Alex found perfect for shaving her legs. It would work just as well for Ben.

  “Drop your drawers, Cowboy, and take a seat.”

  He tried, but the drawstring on the shortened scrub pants had knotted and resisted his best efforts to get it loose. Alex watched him fuss with it for a few moments, then nudged his hands aside.

  “Here, let me.”

  When she picked at the knot, her fingers brushed his stomach. He sucked in a quick breath and hollowed his belly. They were both rethinking the whole idea of a shower by the time the knot finally worked loose.

  Then the scrub pants dropped and it was Alex’s turn to suck air. Lord, he was buff! And ready! His sex jutted from the dark hair of his groin and had Alex rushing to get them both scrubbed down.

  “Sit there.”

  Once he was positioned on the bench, she set the crutches outside the walk-in and shed her clothes with brisk efficiency. Feeling the pinprick of his admiring gaze on every inch of her body, she angled the showerhead away from him and turned on the taps. His eyes gleamed with appreciation as she soaped down...and narrowed in disappointment when she angled the showerhead so the water would reach his right side but not drench his left, then handed him the washcloth and soap.

  “Aren’t you going to do the honors?”

  “You broke your foot, not your hand.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Think so?”

  She leaned down and kissed him. Hard. “Do your thing, Cowboy, and I’ll do mine.”

  Her “thing” consisted of knotting a towel sarong-like around her middle, lightly dusting with bath powder and dragging a brush through her tangled hair.

  When Ben signaled that he was done, she turned off the taps but made him wait until the excess water swirled down the drain. Still not trusting the slick tiles, she grabbed another towel and spread it over the wet surface. Only then did she hand Ben the crutches.

  She was right beside him when he exited the steamed-up glass blocks, ready to steady him if he teetered. He made it out safely, thank goodness, and she toweled him dry. The feel of him, the sculpted symmetry of those sleek muscles, kicked her pulse into overdrive again. Her breath was coming fast and shallow as she worked her way down, then up.

  The movement of her hands over his body stirred him, too. The evidence rose right before her eyes. Before she finished blotting away the dampness, his sex was rampant again. But as obviously eager as he was, he took a moment to scrape a palm across his cheeks and chin.

  “Do you have a razor handy? My shaving kit’s with my gear, waiting for me at Base Ops.”

  “I’ve got one,” Alex told him. “But I use it to shave my legs and the blade passed dull a week ago.”

  He winced and declined the offer. “We’ll just have to work around the whiskers.”

  They would also, he advised ruefully, have to work around the fact that his emergency supply of condoms was in his shaving kit. “Unless you keep a stash handy,” he said hopefully.

  “Nope. Haven’t had any reason to,” she admitted with a wry grimace.

  “Not a problem. If we didn’t learn anything else in SERE training, we learned how to—”

  “Improvise,” she finished for him.

  “Right.” Stretching out on the bed, he swung his legs onto the mattress and patted his middle. “Climb aboard and let me demonstrate.”

  What woman could refuse such a romantic invitation? Laughing, Alex dropped the towel and straddled his waist. He obviously enjoyed the view she presented. His gaze traced a lazy path from her breasts to her belly and back again. His hands followed the same route.

  Lazy soon amped up to tight and hungry. His hands stroked her breasts and his busy fingers teased her nipples into stiff, aching points. A very persistent erection poked at her behind. Then he cupped her bottom, inched her forward and brought her within reach of his tongue. At which point he proceeded to rock her world.

  Alex could only blame what happened next on the aforementioned dry spell. The orgasm hit with no warning. There was no buildup. No slow, delicious spiral of heat. Just a monster wave of sensation that slammed down on her, clenching her thighs, bowing her spine. She didn’t try to fight it. Couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to. Arching her head back, she rode the wild waves.

  When the swirling finally subsided, she was so limp that she just fell sideways onto the mattress. Cradled against him, it was some time before she realized they weren’t done. Or he wasn’t, anyway.

  He spun it out this time. Explored her slowly, almost methodically. Every touch, every taste seemed to leave its own special brand. When he had her strung tight again, she rolled onto her side and flashed him a wicked grin.

  “Okay, Cowboy. My turn to improvise.”

  Ben barely had time to process her husky promise before her mouth closed around him and every ounce of blood in his head shot south.

  * * *

  Ben’s eyes were closed when she pried hers open some moments later. Crossing her hands on his chest, she propped her chin on them.

  “Wow,” he grunted, his lids still shut.

  “Wow,” she echoed. “Was it this good two years ago? In Vegas?”

  He opened one eye and squinted at her. “I can’t remember my name right now, never mind what happened two years ago.”

  “I didn’t hurt your foot, did I?”

  “Oh, babe. My foot’s never had it so good. Neither has the rest of me.”

  Alex threw a casual glance at the clock and gave a gasp of dismay. “Oh, Lord! It’s almost ten. I should’ve been at the warehouse an hour ago. Thankfully, one of the women who works for me has a key. She’ll have let the others in. But I’d better get it in gear. What about you?” she asked as she pushed off his chest. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

  “I should check in at the squadron. Then pick up my gear bag and my car and get some things out of storage.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “If you’re serious about extending the terms of our agreement, that is.”

  “If I wasn’t before, I am now.” She traced her forefinger along his whiskery chin. “Think we can make this work for us, Fly Boy?”

  “We’ve got as good a chance as anyone.”

  She wondered. Not every bride came with a seven-year-old who might or might not become a permanent fixture in her groom’s life, depending on a cantankerous old judge. And not every groom’s career zinged him from one side of the globe to the other with little or no warning. The flight surgeon said he’d be off flying status for three to four months. After that...

  The question of how long he’d remain in Albuquerque added another wrinkle to her carefully laid out plan, one she hadn’t contemplated before. The judge had granted Alex only temporary custody. He’d never let her take Maria out of state, much less out of the country. Not until the adoption went through, anyway.

  Feeling the weight of all the uncertainties hanging over her, she edged off the bed and gathered the damp towels. “Give me an hour. I’ll check in at the shop, then drive you to the base.”

  “That works, if you can spare the time. If not, I can Uber in.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  * * *

  True to her word, Alex was back within an hour. Since she would most likely be meeting some of Ben’s coworkers, she debated changing her jeans and amber-colored tank for something a little dressier. The golden-eyed dragon with the glittering scales that spilled over one shoulder of the tank was a favorite design, though, so she decided to go with it.

  Ben had cut the elastic cuff off the left leg of his jersey workout
pants so they fit over his cast. The matching dark blue shirt sported a stamped patch on one shoulder. A closer inspection showed a female huntress driving a chariot though rolling clouds, her bow in hand. The lettering below read 58th Special Operations Wing. The lettering wasn’t really necessary, Alex thought. The torso displayed to perfection by that all stretchy blue jersey could only belong to someone assigned to Special Ops.

  Mere moments later, they were in her car and on their way. Alex had driven past sprawling Kirtland Air Force Base many times but this was her first foray inside the base perimeter. After Ben flashed his ID at the guard, she followed his directions past nondescript tan-colored buildings accented with equally blah chocolate-brown trim. The base shared its almost three-mile-long runway with the Albuquerque airport and was, she now learned, divided into two distinct areas.

  She’d read enough coverage in the local papers to understand the east half of the base was home to Sandia National Laboratories. She also knew the lab had the scary mission of ensuring the US nuclear arsenal was safe, secure and reliable, and could fully support the nation’s deterrence policy. Ben added to her scanty knowledge by informing her that Sandia Labs acted as the engineering arm of the US nuclear weapons network.

  “Is it true they stockpile nukes in those mountains?” she asked with a nod toward the jagged ridge to the east.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  The sharp retort swung her head in his direction. “I don’t know. I probably read it in the papers.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Or heard it somewhere.”

  His face was a cool mask. Obviously, this was not a topic for general discussion.

  “Okay,” she said. “Message received.”

  A two-lane road took them to the west side of the base. Bordered on both sides by high desert sand and scrub, it skirted the end of the runway. Once they reached another cluster of buildings, Ben pointed out those belonging to the Air Force Space Vehicles Directorate.

  The directorate, he explained, was charged with exploring the military frontiers of space. A couple of turns took them to the hangars, aircraft and operations facilities of the 58th Special Operations Wing.