Emeralds, Rubies, and Camouflage (8 page)

“Then buy the other one. But I honestly don’t think it’s as nice. The house on Eaton had such a beautiful pool area. If you were going to have friends down that would be a great place to entertain.”

That’s exactly what he’d been thinking as well. The only difference was that when he imagined entertaining there Myra was at his side.

“I think you’re right. I think I’ll put an offer in on the Eaton property.”

The waiter dropped off their drinks and took their order – lobster quesadillas for her and fish tacos for him.

“I think you’ll love the house,” she said but her attention was drawn to the view. Their table overlooked the pristine beach and the cloudless sky was an incredible blue today. He’d been right to bring her here.
“This is so beautiful. Peaceful. Like another world. Do you come down here a lot?”

“I do. Usually three or four times a year to fish and dive. It was a great place to relax and decompress when I was on leave. I’ve always rented a place but I’ve been thinking about buying for quite a while. I was close on one property but life got in the way.”

His trips to Key West with his buddies had kept him
sane when his life had been anything but. Always laid back and serene, it had been the complete opposite of the locations he’d been stationed while in the military.

“Life? I bet you mean work. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you do.”

“No.” He shook his head. She had no idea. “It was life. I’d asked my father to take over negotiations on a property I was interested in since my leave was
ending. I went overseas and a few days later…”

For a moment it looked like she didn’t understand and then her eyes went wide and she sucked in a breath. His own heart accelerated in his chest and thumped loudly in his ears.

“Oh. I see. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He’d made her uncomfortable and that was the last thing he’d wanted to do. Perhaps it was best to get it out there so they could
move on. He was sure she’d wondered how he was injured but had never asked of course. She was far too polite and it wasn’t a topic he relished.

“It’s okay. Actually I brought it up.” He studied her features carefully, looking for any sign of revulsion or disgust. “You can ask me about it if you like. You’re part of my inner circle you might say, so I don’t mind telling you.”

She licked her lips
in nervousness and fiddled with the fork on the table. “How were you hurt?”

“Suicide bomber while I was stationed in Afghanistan.”

He’d managed to say the words calmly despite the tumult in his gut. Her color was high and her lips pressed together as if she didn’t want to say another word but she finally did.

“And you were hurt badly.”

She didn’t phrase it as a question. Clearly he’d been
seriously injured.

“Burns and shrapnel on my left side. I’ve had several surgeries and skin grafts. This is as good as I’m going to get.”

There. He’d said it. Laid it out there. He could barely breathe as he waited for her reaction.

“Are you in any…pain?”

He could swear he saw tears gathering in her soft brown eyes. Hell, no. No tears for him. He was alive, if not really kicking. He didn’t
need her pity.

“My leg aches sometimes, especially after a workout.”

But she didn’t mean his leg. Her gaze had landed on the visible scars on his neck and arms.

His fingers rubbed the back of his left hand where the skin was white instead of tan. “No, I’m not in any pain. They don’t hurt.”

Not the way she meant anyway. It hurt when they kept people at arm’s length.

“That’s good. I mean, I’m
glad.”

She was flipping the fork over and over and her eyes were looking anywhere but at him. He felt a stab in the vicinity of his heart that she couldn’t stand to look at him very long. He’d been hoping for too much lately. Since Myra had come into his life his thinking had gone in directions that were dangerous.

“I try and keep them covered so people won’t be uncomfortable.”

Inwardly, Holt
winced at the bald statement. He rarely discussed this topic so it was understandable that he had no fucking idea what he was saying. Add in one beautiful woman and he was confused as shit.

Myra was looking him straight in the eye again and leaning forward in her chair. “Why should you do that? Screw anyone that feels uncomfortable. You’re a freaking war hero. Why should you have to cover up?
If they don’t like it, it’s their problem, not yours.”

Her mini-rant shook him to the core. He needed to know. These last two weeks he’d been walking around on eggshells. He just fucking needed to know once and for all.

“They don’t…bother you?”

She smacked the fork down on the table. “Of course not. Oh my God, did you think…? No, Holt it’s fine. I don’t care about something like that. Truly.”

“It’s worse on my back and chest. What you haven’t seen isn’t pretty.”

“I’m more interested in what’s inside a person. Bobby was considered good-looking by all my friends but he was a real shit when it came down to it.”

Myra said the words so forcefully Holt couldn’t help but believe she meant it. Or she thought she did. She still hadn’t seen the worst. It was easy to say it didn’t matter when
she was blissfully unaware of the ugly truth.

“I hope you never describe me as a real shit,” he finally said, too overcome to say anything with real meaning.

“Then don’t do anything to earn that title,” she replied tartly. Quiet for a moment, she then said, “I’m really sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine all you’ve been through.”

She’d described him this morning as a softie but she
had a soft touch as well.

“It may be hard to understand this but I’m actually lucky. Most of the people around me that day didn’t make it. For some reason, I did. I don’t take that lightly. I want my life to have meaning. Not just for me but for them. If I sat around all day bitching about what a victim I am—well, that would be disrespectful to their memories.”

“I don’t think you could ever
be disrespectful.”

Holt snorted and laughed. “You’ve never seen me in court. I’ll have to take you sometime. You’ll be singing a different tune afterward. You might even call me a real shit.”

Laughter bubbled from her full, pink lips and his chest suddenly felt too tight. Myra was becoming so much more to him than just an assistant. She’d become a friend. Someone he could trust. If only he didn’t
crave more.

“We’ll see,” she teased as the waiter placed their entrees in front of them. “Thank you for bringing me today, by the way. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I. You’re good company.” The conversation had turned way too personal. “So let’s talk about Amelia’s birthday. What did you have in mind?”

At this moment Holt would have given anything in the world to have met this woman at another
time and place. Back before…when he was still a man who believed in love and happily ever after.

The plain and simple truth was – no matter how much hope he carried inside – that simply wasn’t in the cards for him.

‡

“U
no!”

Amelia held up her last playing card, a wide smile on her adorable face. She’d had her bath, brushed her teeth, and was wearing her pink pajamas with a bunny on the front of the shirt. Myra’s throat seemed to grow tight as she gazed at her daughter. She wanted
to give Amelia the best life possible and so far working for Holt was a big step in the right direction.

“Again?” Myra laughed as the three of them – herself, Holt, and Amelia sat at the table beside the pool. Holt had turned the outside lights on plus the tiny twinkling lights Bart had strung in the trees. It looked like a veritable fairyland that charmed not only Amelia but Myra as well. Fiona
and Bart had a function to attend so after the long day in Key West, Holt had proclaimed it Chinese takeout night. They’d eaten outside under the full moon and stars, laughing and having a good time.

Like a family.
Except that Myra had to keep reminding herself that they weren’t and never would be.

“It’s your turn, Mommy,” Amelia said, accidentally showing her one remaining card. A green number
three.

Myra had three cards left. A blue eight. A red five. And a green two. The card on top of the discard pile was a red two. Pretending to hem and haw about what to play, she finally plucked the green two from her hand and set it down on the stack.

Holt waggled his eyebrows and fussed with his cards, moving them around in his hand, making quite a show of selecting his card. With a big sigh,
he slapped down a green seven and gave Amelia a triumphant grin as if he was positive he would win.

Amelia practically did a dance of glee. Smacking down her green three, she raised her arms in victory.

“I won again,” she crowed. “I won.”

“You certainly did.” Holt exchanged a glance with Myra and then shook his head as if he couldn’t figure out how the little girl did it. “You’re the best Uno
player in this household that’s for sure. I could pick up a few tips from you.”

Myra’s heart did a few flips in her chest. Holt was always so sweet and kind to Amelia. So patient.

“I’ll help you, Holt. I’ll tell you which cards to play.” Amelia began gathering up the cards into a stack.

“You can help Holt next time we play. It’s way after your bedtime. Little girls need their sleep.”

Since
tomorrow was a Saturday, Myra had let Amelia stay up an hour later than usual. She’d probably regret it tomorrow but they’d been having so much fun she hated to let it end.

Amelia’s lower lip stuck right out, displaying her unhappiness. “Awww, Mommy. Can’t I stay up for one more game?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s long past bedtime. I should have put you in bed long ago.”

“But–” Amelia’s protest
was interrupted by a giant yawn. She’d be asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Myra had lucked out in having a good sleeper for a daughter. Once she was asleep an earthquake wouldn’t wake her up.

“How about a piggy-back ride upstairs?” Holt offered with a knowing wink to Myra. “I’ll be the horse and you can be the rider.”

He’d said the magic words and the two of them pranced up the stairs
with Myra right behind. He hovered in the doorway as she tucked her daughter into bed and exchanged hugs and kisses. Myra was backing toward the door when Amelia sat straight up in bed.

“Not yet. Holt too.”

His gaze swung to her and Myra nodded, her throat clogged with emotion as Holt hesitantly stepped forward. Amelia threw her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, uncaring of the
scars there. When he pulled away, Myra swore she saw tears shimmering in his pale blue eyes, but then she had a few of her own to deal with.

It felt so right. So good. All three of them spending time together. It was exactly how she’d dreamt it could be.

“Night, sweetheart. We’ll see you in the morning.” Myra bid her daughter goodnight and closed the bedroom door quietly behind them as Amelia
was already beginning to doze off.

Myra and Holt stood awkwardly in the hallway, the tension between them uncomfortably thick. What had happened was too intense, giving rise to all sorts of feelings and urges that she’d ignored for too long.

“She’ll be asleep in less than five minutes.”

Hands shaking, she pushed back a few stray strands of hair and tucked them behind her ear. Holt’s gaze was
zeroed in on her face, his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion.

“She’s a wonderful little girl.”

So deep and compelling, his voice sent an unwelcome shiver up her spine. This overwhelming attraction to Holt had her firmly in its control, unable to pull away or even move. Instead she threw caution to the wind and simply allowed herself to drink up his close proximity. The heat emanating from
his body. The shower-clean smell of his skin. The way his muscles strained at the seams of his proper button-down shirts she now knew he wore to cover up his scars.

Their gazes locked and she opened her mouth to say something…anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Want and need had taken control and they swirled and pitched in her abdomen as she found herself reaching out to touch him, aching
to feel his flesh under her fingers. Her hand landed on his arm, so strong and firm and she clung to him like a lifeline in a storm.

“Holt,” she whispered, taking a tentative step toward him for fear of rejection. She needn’t have worried as he too moved closer, pressing her against the wall, his body heat scorching through her clothes.

“Myra, I need–” He didn’t finish his thought but instead
bent his head to capture her lips with his own. She let her palms slide up his arms and around his neck as he kissed her urgently, dominating her senses. In that moment he was her whole world.

Two weeks of pent-up longing came crashing down and she was helpless to resist. Clutching at his wide shoulders, she let her head loll to the side so his lips could venture further south. His tongue tickled
a pulse point and a thousand butterflies were freed in her abdomen. Heat swept through her veins as his teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh of her shoulder. Her nipples, hard and pointed, rubbed against the lace of her bra and sent tingles straight to her clit.