A Marine of Plenty (2 page)

“I haven’t looked at my e-mail since leaving Dallas, I’ve been so focused on getting here.” Moistening her lips, she struggled to bring her tumbling emotions back into focus. It would be easy to hate the man, to blame him for what happened, and to let anger take over her grief.

But easier didn’t make it right or fair.

Belatedly, she glanced up, surprised at her white-knuckled grip still firm on his hand. He didn’t pull away or try to let her go, but sadness clouded his eyes—sadness, and quite possibly regret. “I didn’t mean to fall to pieces on you, Captain Sparks.”

“I don’t imagine you did. If it’s too hard, I can, and will, find another escort for you.” The quiet conviction and absolute lack of recrimination in his offer helped shore up her shaky confidence.

“No, please. You’ve mentioned your schedule and how busy everyone is, and you took the time to come here today, and help me get all these things to the base. I—thank you.”

Let go, Jana
.

Unpeeling her grip was easier said than done, but she managed.

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I want to go over some of the rules.” He stepped back, vacating her space, and she sucked in a noisy gulp of air.

“Stay in the vehicle, helmet, and flak jacket at all times. No exiting of any kind without clearance. My cooperation protects your people.” She knew the drill and had gone over it several times in preparation for the trip.

“I don’t expect there to be any problems, but we always plan for the worst. You’ll be riding with me. There are three men assigned to your detail and you stay with them at all times. In the event of an assault or trouble, you go where they go. They will extract you and get you to safety, or hold your position secure—whatever is called for at the time.” His manner relaxed a fraction, but maybe he was simply better at controlling his body language. Setting his shoulders back and chin up, didn’t ease the tension around his eyes.

“I promise to cooperate fully. I came here to be useful, to help with the holiday.” Focusing on the why of her trip eased the lump in her throat. “I brought everything we’ll need for a traditional Thanksgiving feast.”

“We’re loading the pallet—Miss Grimaldi…?”

“Jana.”

Get it together, girl. The man has enough problems without you being a weepy woman
.

She rose and smoothed a hand down the flak jacket. Bulky thing was damn uncomfortable, but preferable to the alternative. “Please, call me Jana.”

“Jana, this won’t be the most comfortable holiday for you. We’re in a highly secure location, but insurgents are daily fact of life. Are you absolutely sure you want to go? We can still get you on a flight out to go home and be with your family.” If not for the genuine flickers of concern in his expression, she might have been offended.

Who planned a holiday halfway around the world in a less than stable region without being sure?
Me
.

But she swallowed the negativity. “Captain, my brother died here and it pretty much destroyed my parents.” This needed careful words, thoughtful ones. She’d avoided bouts of self-pity in all of their earlier contact and she didn’t intend to start today. “They are not coping well and my presence doesn’t help or hinder them because they don’t see me right now—they just see Robbie’s little sister and another reminder of their loss. I’ve spent the last several months doing everything I can for them, but it’s not enough for them or for me.”

She paused, because she wanted those words to sink in. “When I spoke to the congressman, your brother—”
Not that he needs the caveat, but what the hell
. “He told me a little bit about the issues your men have had since Robbie died. From the disconnection, to the tension between the units, and the disastrous cocktail of blame and mourning….” The congressman told her more—about his brother in particular—but since it had always felt like prying, she tabled the subject. “Robbie loved being a Marine and he never wanted to be anything else. He loved working with his men, and even when he hated the place, he never hated the people. It would tear him up if his death created problems for the men in his unit. I can’t do anything for my parents and I can’t do anything to change his death, but I can do this. I can help his men, his brothers, and I can help you and that lets me help him.”

The rush of words lanced the fresh boil of her grief and she smiled—for real this time. “I want to help. I want to celebrate Thanksgiving with all of you. Will you let me do that?”

He stood silent and contemplative, and she half-thought he meant to turn down her offer. Instead, he rewarded her wait with an air of acceptance that softened the corners of his mouth, and the hard set of his expression eased. “It would be an honor to assist you, ma’am.”

“Jana,” she repeated. He’d said her name earlier, but she’d called him Captain…. “Ma’am sounds like my mother.” Adjusting her bag, she walked toward him. “Do I really look like someone’s mother?”

“No.” The corner of his mouth hitched a little higher and amusement seeped through the solemnity in his eyes. “Jana. No, you don’t.”

“Good answer.” She huffed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you
finally
, Captain Sparks.” She held out her hand, meaning it that time.

“Charlie.” His much larger palm engulfed hers. “Captain is only for my men.”

“I am definitely not one of those, either.” Heat warmed her face.
Oh my God, flirting with him now? Seriously? Wonder hormones off, already
. Sure, they’d exchanged several e-mails—okay—a lot. But that didn’t put them on that level of familiarity.

“No. You are not. Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” She glanced at the door. “And I’m assuming you exit first.”

He nodded his approval and released her hand. “Yes, I do.”

“Not a problem, I’m really curious about the view.” She could have bitten her tongue. His gaze riveted to her face and he nudged his helmet up a fraction.

Yeah, this would be an excellent time to remember some professionalism
.

Jana cleared her throat. “The view outside. You know, landscape and stuff.”

Stop talking
.

“Uh huh. Stay right behind me and keep clear of my right arm.” He’d let her off the hook, but the flash of heat warming his eyes suggested the reprieve wouldn’t last long if she kept it up.

Heart pounding, she followed him out to the vehicles.
Hormones off, brain on
.

Sadly, the mental chant didn’t help. Even in his bulky gear, Captain Charlie Sparks had a fine ass.

Hormones off
….

Bringing a civilian to a military base in the middle of a war zone equaled an epically stupid idea. He’d filed an objection with his superiors and voiced his concerns to the base commander, but both attempts had been ignored. It seemed Grimaldi’s sister exerted some powerful pull in Washington—
my brother as it turns out
. Brent confessed his part in it the day before during a tense, ten-minute phone call. Charlie’d hung up on him after his brother made it clear he wouldn’t back down.

And here she is
.

He kept his attention on their route; keenly aware insurgents didn’t miss any opportunity—especially if he or any of his men let their guard down. Thankfully quiet over the last few days, it also meant they were due for a hit. Despite the body armor dwarfing their passenger, he would prefer an uneventful drive to and from the base.

Emphasis on the uneventful.

The spot between his shoulder blades itched. Spend enough time in the field, and a Marine knew when he was being watched. Not acknowledging her presence or interest would be the better choice for all involved. He’d heard rumors of her care packages from others who did know him. She sent them often, and included the latest episodes of some of their favorite shows and football games. When he’d sent her the letter, he’d never expected a response much less a regular correspondence. The abstract image he’d constructed of Grimaldi’s academic sister did not mesh at all with the flaxen-haired beauty sitting next to him.

Her huffed little sigh snagged his attention and he spared a look at her, but she didn’t watch him anymore. Instead, her gaze fixed between the driver’s seat and the window. Worry marred her expression and she chewed on her lower lip while tapping a rhythm against her knees with nervous fingers.

Fuck. I scared her
.

Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth. “We’ll be fine,” he murmured in an even tone. He should have realized she’d be frightened, any sane person would be. Hell, hardcore Marines recognized the safety offered by a healthy dose of fear and wariness.

“Sorry.” She grimaced and swung the mega-wattage of her green eyes in his direction. Even in the gloom of the vehicle, they glittered like a pair of faceted emeralds in a jewelry shop window. According to his sister, no one had that color naturally. He’d have to tell Naomi she’d been wrong. “I was fine until we got in here.”

Did
here
mean the MRAP, a heavily armored transport? Hardly the most comfortable of vehicles, it afforded sturdy protection from stray bullets or worse. Or did it mean in Afghanistan? Figuring a run down on what the vehicle could withstand wouldn’t help ease her worry, he covered one of her hands instead.

“What are you planning to make for Turkey Day?”

“Hey, that’s cheating,” Hernandez cut in from the driver’s seat. “We’ve got money riding on this.”

Charlie snorted. “And the bets are all in, so it doesn’t hurt to know whether we won or not before we get back.”

The betting pool opened the morning the commander announced their Thanksgiving Day plans. The base would eat in shifts, because every man and woman stationed there would have work duty, but in addition to the meal, they’d have two large rooms with games playing and a third with a news crew filming their messages to transmit home during the day stateside.

“What if I haven’t made my bet?” Humor eased the corporal’s challenging tone, not that Charlie minded it in friendly conversation. After the dark, dour times of late, it sounded good.

“Then don’t tell me, so I can’t order you not to act on any privileged information you learn.” A smile stretched his mouth.

“Sir, yes sir.” Hernandez grinned. “Help us out, ma’am. What are you fixing for Thanksgiving?”

Jana laughed and the musical sound of it filled the MRAP. The open warmth wore at Charlie’s determination to keep his distance.
A few letters does not a real acquaintance make
.

“We’re going to have a feast.” She clapped her hands together. A southern drawl kissed her words. “We received several turkeys and brisket that we’ll hopefully have enough time to cook so it falls apart when the fork touches it. I also convinced several of the butchers at home to part with these terrific roasts. I think I may have brought too much meat, but I figured what couldn’t be eaten on that day could be used for sandwiches and leftovers. What’s a Turkey Day without leftovers?”

Charlie’s stomach rumbled with anticipation. Hernandez was a hell of a lot more vocal about his pleasure.

“Oh, damn. I don’t care who wins the bet; I just want to eat. Please tell me there’s going to be sweet potatoes…?”

The corporal’s enthusiasm elicited another laugh from Jana. “Sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, and, if the mess officer I spoke to is correct, snap beans.”

Yes, he’d died and gotten a first class ticket to heaven—or maybe hell, because he all but salivated, ready to tear into the crates in the other truck.

“Do I dare tell you about dessert?” she teased and Charlie made the mistake of looking at her again. Their gazes collided and heat coiled through his gut. He didn’t really care what she offered—no confection could match the sweet promise of her lips, or whet his appetite more than the idea of kissing her.

“I don’t know if my heart can take more. I’d settle for a candy bar at this point,” Hernandez encouraged her. “But say pumpkin pie and I’m yours, ma’am.”

No way in hell
. An immediate, violent possessiveness gripped him and Charlie counted to ten to keep from ripping the corporal’s head off. He’d been on the original team intended to provide Jana’s protection during her stay. The too-friendly banter earned him a ticket to an assignment as far away from her as Charlie could manage.

Only half-listening to her describe the cobblers and pies she’d like to make—her choices hinged on what the mess detail had available—he sorted through the roster of men he could assign, and none would do.

It had to be him.

***

Charlie didn’t relax his guard even a fraction until they were inside the secured perimeter, and even then his spine felt locked in an intractable back brace. Hernandez drove them directly under cover and parallel-parked their vehicle beside the building, with Jana Grimaldi’s side closest to the entrance. She didn’t unbuckle and try to exit, but glanced at Charlie and waited instead.

Good girl
. Pleased at her decision to listen to his instructions for the second time since they picked her up, he checked his helmet and exited. They’d only had two on-base incidents in fourteen months, but that was two too many. He scanned the area. Some of the guys were taking advantage of their downtime and played basketball on a makeshift court. A handful of others actually sprawled on split, discolored loungers, soaking up the weak winter sun. Everything else seemed in order—Marines going about their business, including the sentries on the walls and the patrols following their assigned routes.

Hernandez waited next to Jana’s side of the vehicle and Charlie nodded at him as he circled around. Paranoia kept people alive. Without giving her time to sightsee, they shuttled her inside, backing off only once four walls enclosed her and ended any possible line of sight from a sniper.

Directing Hernandez and two others to handle the unloading of her supplies and things, Charlie led her to the room they’d set aside for her. Lieutenant Braxton was stateside on leave, and his officer’s quarters were sparse, but comfortable enough for her three-day stay.