Jump Start (14 page)

“Retired from being a show cat,” she said. “She’s only two. She’s a great age. None of the kitten craziness. She’s trained. Sweet and loving. Her name is Ella and she’s at the opposite side of San Antonio. A couple of hours’ drive.”

“Ella it is then,” he said. “You catch me up on the past seven years during the drive.”

“You want another?” the cook asked, a fifty-something man who Jennifer suspected owned the Waffle House franchise.

Bobby patted his stomach. “I’m done in today,” he said and glanced at Jennifer. “But we’ll be back.” Not phrased as “he’d be back” but
we
. His gaze held Jennifer’s and she almost shivered with the warmth there, telling her he was going to spend every minute with her that he could.

“You better,” the cook-maybe-owner said. “I like a couple with a healthy appetite.”

Jennifer laughed as the man departed with Bobby’s plate. “I bet he does. You ate three waffles, bacon, eggs and sausage. I’ve never seen you eat more than two waffles. You’ve expanded your horizons.”

“Technically, it’s breakfast and lunch,” he said. “We never made it out of the house on Sundays before two.” And they hadn’t today either. He eyed his watch. “Right on time.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “Just like old times.”

“Indeed,” she said softly, nostalgia a bittersweet thing this day but she wasn’t fighting it. She was with Bobby, enjoying their limited time together. “No wonder I never eat a waffle without thinking of you.”

He smiled and paid their check. “Funny,” he said playfully, standing up and offering her his hand. “I’ve never had a waffle without thinking of you either.”

She laughed and grabbed her purse, before slipping her fingers between his. “Glad to know a waffle reminds you of me.”

They strolled across the parking lot, hand in hand, until they reached the passenger side of the car, a weeping willow grazing the roof and offering privacy and shade.

Bobby leaned against the car and molded Jennifer close. “Far more reminds me of you than I think you realize,” he said. “I missed you. I missed us. I swear to you I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

“The hardest part was not how you left,” she admitted. “It was the seven years of silence.” Her gaze lifted and she didn’t try to hide the hurt. “I’d see something, or do something, that reminded me of you and that silence made me feel you never had those moments about me. You never called. You never wrote. For seven years, Bobby.”

“I convinced myself you were better off without me,” he said, his voice heavy, thick. “I pushed myself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion so I didn’t have to think about anything but being a soldier. Fighting. Serving my country. I entered a special unit. I was never in the same place more than a few nights at once. And I saw it destroy the few men who tried to have relationships. How could I ask you to endure that life? But I’m up for reenlistment, Jen, and I don’t have to go back.” He laced his fingers around her neck. “I love you, Jennifer. I don’t know if I can be the man you need. I don’t know if you even will allow me to try. But I want to be.”

The longing in his voice, the hope glistening in his eyes, washed over her. All the sorrow faded, became nothing more than a leaf fluttering in the shadow of a tree with years of history. “I love you, too,” she confessed, her voice a rasp of a whisper. “But leaving the Army is a big step. You did so much good last night. You are amazing at what you do. Don’t give that up for me. I’ve loved you since I met you. I can love you between missions.”

“Getting out of the Army is purely selfish,” he said. “In between missions isn’t enough for me. I’ve had seven years of living out of a duffel bag, watching people die, trying to keep it from happening. I have enough nightmares to last me a lifetime. I’m ready to get out before they take over.”

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I have an idea or two floating around in my head.” He wiggled an eyebrow. “Women like firemen. Maybe I’ll be a fireman. I bet we can have fun with a few ‘hot’ fantasies.”

Jennifer laughed. “We can do that without you actually working for the fire department though.”

“Ah, yes,” he agreed, kissing her neck and then whispering in her ear. “We might have to go the fireman route tonight.” His breath tickled her neck and sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m not over the hot soldier fantasy yet,” she said.

He leaned back. “One hot solider coming up,” he said. “After we go pick up a cat named Ella. We should hurry.” He lowered his lips near hers. “Maybe we’ll get married and get Julie a sister.”

She sucked in a breath. “Bobby.”

He smiled against her lips. “I like it when you say my name.” And he kissed her. Jennifer wrapped her arms around him, but even as she sank into the reassuring feel of his arms around her and holding her close, she knew there was still a barrier between them. A wall that could only come down when she knew nothing, and no one, could push his buttons and make him run again.

“Since we’re all about the past being put to rest, and a bright shiny future,” she said. “Why don’t we get the meeting with your father out of the way? Ella is only about twenty minutes from his place.”

Instant tension crackled off him but he was too smooth to even move an eyebrow. “No need to ruin a great day,” he said and gave her a quick kiss, setting her away from him to open his door. “I’ve decided visiting my father is like giving him control he doesn’t deserve.” He winked. “Giving you control is much more fun.”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t know she was still talking about his father. “I do like giving you control.” He put the car in gear. “You’re very sexy when you’re feeling empowered.”

“You know very well I’m talking about your father,” she said, glaring at him.

“You, I give control to. Him—he gets none.” He pulled the rental to the edge of the driveway. “Straight shot up I-35 to San Antonio, right?”

“Right,” she said. “And don’t change the subject.”

“Since when is asking directions changing the subject?” he asked, enjoying the combative response, and the cute way her voice lifted when she was mad, despite his father being the source of her frustration. He regretted ever suggesting they go see him.

“You know very well San Antonio is a straight shot up the highway,” she said. “What other way is there?”

Bobby opened his mouth to remind her he’d been gone seven years and she held up a hand. “I don’t want an answer. Not to that question. To this one. You said you wanted to see your father. You need to see your father. It’s been a long time.”

He gave her a quick glance and maneuvered onto the highway. “I’m still waiting for the question. Because I didn’t hear one in there anywhere.”

She crossed her arms. “There’s no question, after all. Because I’m not asking. We’re going to see your father.”

“A waste of time when we could be enjoying each other,” he said. He’d given this a lot of thought. He was glad he’d been detoured from seeing his father. He wasn’t giving his father a chance to mess up what he had going with Jennifer again.

“You said—” she began.

“I know what I said,” he agreed. “I thought visiting him proved he had no control over me. But I was wrong. It gives him control. As if he decides my future, or worse, our future. He doesn’t. The whole point is that he never had any control over me, he never decided who I was, or what I would become. It was my youthful perception and immaturity.” He glanced over at her, settling the car into cruise control. “He doesn’t matter. We do.”

She reached out and took his hand. Hers was soft and delicate and perfect against his. He wanted to hold it forever; he wanted to be here with her.

“Please, Bobby,” she said. “Get this behind you. You need to face this.” She hesitated a second. “And if your father drove you away from me, I need to know he can’t do it again.”

He cut her a fast sideways look. “He can’t. He won’t.” An acidy burn rasped through his throat and then exploded in his chest. “And I don’t want to ruin our day together.”

“We can purchase Ella today, but pick her up after the honeymoon,” she suggested. “That’s better, anyway. Then we can go see your father on the way back.”

“A destructive ending to a perfect day,” he said dryly. “No, thank you.”

“It ends with you and me, not him,” she reminded him. “And he does have power over you if he can ruin our day. He has power over us. Let’s take that from him.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to him, Jennifer,” he said. “I don’t want to try anymore.”

“You were determined to see him yesterday. What changed today?”

“I thought I had to see him to prove something to you and me,” he explained. “But that’s exactly what I’ve done for seven years—prove I’m not like him. I’m done with that. No more.”

“He’s your father,” she insisted. “You haven’t seen him in seven years. When was the last time you actually talked to him?”

“A year ago,” he said. “He cussed me out, slurring every other word because I sent him five hundred dollars instead of the six hundred he asked me for. I was overseas, and it was all I could do from there.”

She inhaled softly and drew her hand from his. He felt a razor-sharp jab in his chest. She’d decided this defined their relationship in some way and fool that he was, he’d put that idea in her head.

“Let’s go buy Ella,” he said. “We’ll see how late it is when we’re heading back.”

She cast him a smile that shined as brightly as a Christmas tree. “I’m so glad you’re going to do this.”

He grimaced. “I said we’d see how late it is.”

Her eyes twinkled. “I know.”

Which meant she had every intention of forcing him to see his father. “You’re stubborn as a rock when you want something.”

“I prefer persuasive,” she said, reaching over and sliding her fingers between his again. “For instance, after we see your father, I was thinking about a few hot soldier fantasies.” She drew his hand to her mouth and kissed it, casting him a seductive look that shot straight to his groin.

“I didn’t say we were going to see my father,” he reminded her, glancing between her and the road. “I said we’d see.”

“I know,” she said and slid down in her seat.

In other words, they were going to see his father.

They’d talked nonstop during the drive toward their visit with Ella—about her clinic and his time in the Army, at least what he was allowed to share. But since getting in the car, heading toward his father’s place, he’d been tight-lipped.

Suddenly, they were parked between several large oak trees, not a building in sight, and Bobby killed the engine. “Why are we stopping?”

“I want to show you something,” he said, popping open his door and motioning with his head for her to exit.

Jennifer joined him at the front of the car, fields of high grass mixed with yellow and purple flowers all around them. It was private, quiet, romantic.

Bobby threaded his fingers through hers. “This was one of my favorite places when I was a kid. I’d come here to get out of the house.”

“To get away from your father,” she said.

“He was always at the garage or the bar. I just liked this place. I used to bring my radio and books, and spend hours here.” He walked backward and led her around one of the big oak trees. “This is what I wanted to show you.” He turned her to face the tree and stepped behind her, his arms wrapping around her from behind. There, at the center of the tree’s trunk, was a big heart carved with two lovers’ names and a year, 1947.

Bobby nuzzled her neck. “This was some young couple’s secret spot. Now it can be ours. I always wanted to bring you here, but I didn’t want to explain why I didn’t want to take you to see my father.”

Jennifer’s heart swelled with the confession, and she rotated around in his arms, her hands sliding around his neck. She didn’t miss the importance of a gesture that reached far beyond romance. He wouldn’t have taken her before, but he would now. The boundaries were coming down.

“I’m glad you brought me today,” she said, pressing to her toes and kissing him.

His hand molded her lower back, his tongue sweeping against hers in a lush stroke just before he nipped her lip. “We should carve the tree with our names,” he suggested.

She laughed, feeling like a schoolgirl, and loving it. “All right,” she said. “But you have to do all the work.” She ran her hand over his bicep. “I’ll watch all your delicious muscles flexing and make ooh and ahh sounds at all the right moments.”

He kissed her, a short, firm kiss filled with a sexy reprimand. “Don’t tease me,” he warned, his voice that low hum that rattled through her nerves with sensual delight. “Or I might just have to take you right here against the tree.”

Feeling playful, she taunted him, “I wonder if the couple who carved their names here before us tried the tree?”

A low growl escaped his lips. “You’re naughty.”

“You bring it out in me,” she purred, nipping his lips as he had hers. “Only I think I’d rather be naughty on a blanket, which we don’t have.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked, his hand sliding over her backside and pressing her into his obvious erection.

“Waiting for a blanket,” she assured him, and noting the fast encroaching darkness, added, “and candles. Let’s carve our names before it gets dark.”

Reluctantly, Bobby let her go. “Next time we’ll bring a blanket.”

The “next time” reference pleased Jennifer. It gave her hope that despite his reluctance to see his father, he really wasn’t expecting his father to impact their future. “Do we even have a way to carve our names now?”

Bobby reached into his boot and pulled out a pocket-knife. “A soldier is always prepared,” he said, holding it up. He then produced a small penlight. “Let there be light.”

Fifteen minutes later, the sun all but gone, Jennifer held the light on the tree as Bobby finished the carving. “Done,” he said, flipping the knife shut and sliding it back in his boot.

“We’ll have to come back when we can see it properly,” she said, shining the light around the tree. “But at least we’ve marked our territory.”

Bobby pushed to his feet and eased her upward with him, his body cradling hers. “The whole idea gives me the sudden urge to forget the blanket and claim you, not the territory.” He leaned against the tree and molded her across the long, hard length of his hips and thighs.

She stared up at him, searching the hard lines of his face, obscured by shadows, sensing a shift in him—his mood darker, the playfulness of earlier gone.

His mouth closed down over hers, his lips firm, his tongue ruthless in its invasion, its demand. His hand, forceful as it guided her hips to his, his erection thick where it rested against her stomach.

Jennifer moaned into his mouth, tasting that darkness she sensed in him, the primitive lust—feeling it in his touch. On some level, in some place in her mind, Jennifer knew this was the beginning of a firestorm of more than passion. This was a foreshadowing of what was to come—of Bobby dealing with why he’d left, why he’d returned. She told herself to pull away. Knew she should ask questions, demand to understand what had caused his mood. If only she had asked questions seven years ago.

But now he was touching her, her bra unhooked, his hands everywhere. Gliding over her rib cage, gently brushing the curve beneath her breast. She moaned, arching into him, moaned as his hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples. She was wet, achy, ready to say to heck with a blanket.

For a few minutes, she didn’t fight the drugging kisses or the enticement of his hands on her body. Jennifer was lost. Lost to kissing Bobby. Lost to his touch. Lost to the need to touch. Her hand slid over his crotch, over the bulge of his cock. She wanted him inside her. Oh, yes, inside her. Here, now.

A low, feral growl escaped his lips as she stroked his cock with her hand, spearing his tongue into her mouth. And it was the kiss—the wild, dark quality of Bobby’s kiss that pierced the passion, bled into her soul. Called out to her in warning. She was losing him again. He was going to hurt her. Again. Hurt her again. Somehow, her palms steadied on his arms, and she shoved away, tearing her mouth from his.

“No,” she gasped. “Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the scream of her body telling her to “go,” not “stop.” She forced her eyes open. “What is it, Bobby?” she rasped, her throat thick with desire, barely recognizable as her own. “What’s wrong?”

The twinkling stars were barely seeping through the tree limbs, casting a reflection on his face.

“Nothing,” he said, his hand sliding along her hip and tempting her to forget her objections. “The idea of taking you in the wilderness turns me on, is all.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, the edge about him beginning to fade. “Let’s go see my father, so I can properly satisfy my craving—in your bed for now. We’ll come back to the wilderness.”

Nothing was wrong. But something
was
wrong. He knew it and so did she. They’d marked the tree with their names, but not with a guarantee of happiness.