Jump Start (8 page)

Suddenly, his lips were a breath from hers. “Then you’ve left me no choice,” he said in a silky promise. “I simply won’t ever let you say goodbye.” His mouth slanted over hers, a quick caress of his tongue against hers. “Now. Let’s go check on Mark and Marcie—together.”

Bobby grabbed her hand and led her to the door, giving her no time to object. Her mind was still reeling as they entered the hallway only to find Marcie giggling and hiccupping.

Bobby and Jennifer exchanged a look, and Bobby quickly reacted. “I’ll help her,” he said, scooping Marcie into his arms and carrying her toward her room.

“Bobby,” Marcie groaned. “Where’s Jennifer?”

“I’m here,” Jennifer said, rushing through the door of the bedroom that Marcie and Mark shared, and pulling back the forest-green comforter on the bed. Bobby settled her onto the bed, and Jennifer tugged off her shoes.

Sally entered the room. “Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Jennifer answered. “But where is Mark? Why didn’t he carry her up?”

“Mark was playing dice with Scott. He said he needed his bride and his best man to jump out of some plane with him if he was going to be properly married.” She frowned. “I’m in the wedding, and I don’t remember anything about a plane.”

“No,” Bobby said dryly. “Not you.”

“Well, not the best man either because Scott said he’d rather streak naked at the twenty-four-hour grocery store than jump out of some damn plane.”

Jennifer’s eyes locked with Bobby’s as they both had an “oh, crap” moment. “Are you telling me,” Jennifer asked, “that Mark and Scott walked to the grocery store so Scott could streak?”

“Yeah,” Sally said. “Them and some other guys. They’re streaking all right.”

Bobby sighed and scrubbed his jaw. “I’ll go take care of it.”

“Thank you,” Jennifer said, so glad Bobby was there, the ever-steady hand in these situations, as he had been in the past. No. As they had been together. Together they’d been a good team. Her chest tightened.

Bobby nodded and turned away, Sally following, but not before Jennifer saw the shadows flicker across his face, the expression that had said
“And you wonder why I’m so afraid of becoming a drunk?”
The kind of look she’d seen from him many times and dismissed.

Guilt twisted inside Jennifer. She’d never pressed him beyond a gentle nudge to explain those looks, and she should have. She should have seen how badly he was hurting. Maybe he hadn’t shut her out. Maybe he simply didn’t know how to let her in.

“Bobby!” Mark called out, holding up his open beer. “Thanks for the seat.” He hopped onto the hood of the car. “We were looking for you. Can you believe Scott is such a pansy, he would rather run buck naked through the parking lot than skydive. The little crybaby.”

“Get dressed, Scott,” Bobby said, snatching his shirt and tossing it at him. “We’re going home.” Bobby eyed Mark. “Where your wife-to-be is waiting on you.”

“I will be home to my woman just as soon as I get a picture of this,” he said, snatching his cell phone and getting it camera ready.

“Oh, nasty,” another guy Bobby didn’t know said. “No naked pictures of Scott.”

Another guy added an exaggerated, alcohol-induced laugh, and said, “Scott’s gonna make all the people in the store cry when they see his shiny white ass.”

Several others chanted. “Streak. Streak. Streak.”

“Get dressed,” Bobby ordered Scott, who was gulping a beer someone handed him.

“Get naked!” Scott yelled and down went his pants and underwear. He kicked them away from his already bare feet, and then he was running, or rather streaking.

Oh, hell. Bobby grimaced. Sirens sounded. Oh, double bloody hell. Bobby had seen plenty of drunk soldiers, but they knew when and where to drink, and how to stay out of trouble. At least, at the level of operation Bobby functioned in.

The entire group was freaking out. Except Mark who was more dazed and confused, with a big “grin before I pass out” look on his face.

Bobby quickly grabbed Mark’s beer, set it down and half hoisted him into the car. “You stay here and say nothing.”

Mark smiled. “Okay.” His head fell backward, against the seat. Well. At least, Mark was out of the picture. Or so he hoped. He could imagine the wrath of Marcie and Jennifer if he let the groom get arrested tonight.

Bobby eyed the cop handcuffing Scott, and wasn’t so sure he could save the best man but he had to try. He drew a breath and headed toward the scene of the crime.

One of the two cops, fifty-something and fit, with a buzz cut read like ex-military. Bobby showed him his military ID.

“You home to drink yourself into trouble, son, or what?” the cop asked Bobby.

“No, sir,” Bobby assured him. “In fact, I haven’t had even a sip of anything tonight. One of my close friends is getting married and I promised to keep her fiancé out of trouble. It appears I’m failing miserably.”

The cop arched a brow. “Bachelor party?” Bobby nodded. Then the cop asked, “The streaker’s the groom?”

“The best man,” Bobby said. “The groom’s in my car and smart enough to stay there and let me handle it. And I have to tell you, I feel to blame. I dared them all to skydive, and the best man said he’d rather streak than jump out of a plane. I turned my back a few minutes, and they were gone.”

The cop chuckled. “Amazing how the idea of jumping from ten thousand feet will make a man get naked and stupid,” he said, “when half the military is begging to get airborne and these civilians are scared to jump.”

“I’d say a few beers added to the naked and stupid problem. Which was why everyone’s keys were kept at the door. But they walked.”

“You made everyone leave their keys at the door?”

“The groom did,” Bobby said. “He’s a good guy. Even made the guests leave cab fare at the door. He was prepared.”

“Well, then,” the cop said. “That is admirable.” He studied Bobby. “How long you been in the Army, son?”

“Seven years,” Bobby said. “Five in Special Forces.”

“I was in fifteen,” the cop said. “First Cavalier down in Fort Hood. Where you stationed?”

“Depends what day of the week you ask me,” Bobby said, accepting his ID back and slipping it in his wallet.

“Is there a woman behind the pain I felt in those words?”

“What makes you think there’s a woman?”

“There’s always a woman, son,” he said. “That’s why I got out. I didn’t want her getting cold at night and finding someone else to warm her up.” He eyed the other officer talking to Scott, whose bare backside was staring them in the face, the rest of the guys all sitting on a curb where they’d been ordered. He glanced back at Bobby. “Now, I go home after a night of scary bare butts and hug my wife.”

“And?” Bobby asked. “Are you happy?”

“You take the good with the bad, the bare butts with the bank robbers. I’ll load these guys up and follow you to the party—after I scare the living shit out of them so they don’t do this stupid crap again. But you keep them out of trouble the rest of the night.”

The cop turned away, not giving Bobby a chance to thank him. Bobby realized right then, he had to figure out what he would do with himself outside the Army. He had to have an identity, a plan. He had to figure out who he was if not a soldier. Hard to do when his orders, to check out this Rocky guy and his Texas Hotzone skydiving operation, meant incorporating duty into the wedding event. Bobby scrubbed his jaw. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to chase bare butts or bank robbers. But neither was he letting anyone else warm Jennifer’s bed.

“How’s Marcie?” he asked, leaning on the door frame.

“She’s okay, but she’ll have a rotten hangover tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “I guess fun comes with a price. At least she’s resting now.”

He cast her a heavy-lidded inspection. “What about you?” he asked. “Don’t you need to rest?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, fighting the weariness weighing on her. “I figured I’d stay here in case she needs me. It’s not like Mark can help her. He can’t even get up the stairs himself.”

He narrowed his gaze, his scrutiny intense, his presence seeming to swell in the room. “Not because you’re trying to avoid me?”

She drew a deep breath, too tired to analyze how she felt, or why. “I’m not avoiding you, Bobby,” she said softly. “You were wonderful tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here…to help.”

His expression didn’t change; he didn’t move. But the silence was rich with implications, with a connection of two lovers lost, now found. Silence slid between them, weaving strands of the past with the present, alluringly warm, impossible to deny, let alone escape.

Bobby pushed off the wall and sauntered toward her. Her heart thundered in her ears, her body thrummed with anticipation of the moment he would speak, the instant he would touch her. He stopped beside the chair, towering over her.

“You’re not avoiding me?” he asked again.

She shook her head, barely finding her voice. “No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Then you won’t mind if I stay right here with you,” he said, sitting down in the oversize chair with her and maneuvering her under his arm, against his chest.

Jennifer relaxed into Bobby, his strong arms and body warming her inside and out. She was too tired to fight the intimacy, too tired to keep her walls up, to protect herself from getting hurt again. Jennifer rested her head on his chest and let her eyes slide shut, vowing to get things back on track and all about sex tomorrow.

Jennifer shook herself into action, pushing out of Bobby’s arms, and snagging the phone just as it stopped ringing.

Marcie leaned up and cast the 8:00 a.m. time on the clock a disapproving glance. She dropped to her back, covering her face with her hands. “Please tell me that call was necessary.”

“It’s my service,” Jennifer said and punched the re-dial button. “They wouldn’t call unless a patient had an emergency. So yes. It’s necessary.” She’d arranged to open the clinic late that afternoon for a few hours.

After talking to her service, Jennifer called her client, only to find out that her patient, a poodle, had eaten a bag of chocolates, and was sick.

“How soon can you be at the office?” Jennifer asked the poodle’s owner, glancing at Bobby, who was watching her intently.

As her client responded, Jennifer turned away from Bobby, surprised to hear how far the customer drove to see her, but pleased when she was told it was because she was trusted.

Jennifer glanced at the clock. “Then nine-thirty? Does that work?”

With the time set, Jennifer hung up the line, Bobby’s gaze catching hers, his expression unreadable, but warm, like those strong arms holding her only minutes before.

“I’m going in your closet, Marcie,” Jennifer said. “I don’t have time to go home and shower and still make it to the clinic.”

“If you will stop talking so loudly,” Marcie murmured, “I will give you my entire closet. Actually please stop talking. Please take what you need and leave.”

Bobby smiled and stood up. “I’ll take that as a cue to go check on Mark.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jennifer stood in Marcie’s kitchen surrounded by the aftermath of the party, a mess of trash, cups and food everywhere. Jennifer had showered and dressed, though her options had been limited considering Marcie dwarfed her by three inches and all her pants were too long. She’d settled on a simple black shell dress, bare legs and heels that thankfully fit.

Jennifer poured coffee in a mug and set it in front of Marcie, who sat at the bar, her pale faced smudged with dark circles under her eyes.

“Thank you,” Marcie said grumpily, and not all so convincingly.

“I didn’t make the coffee for you,” Jennifer said. “I made it for everyone who has to tolerate you while hung over. I’m headed to the clinic so thankfully I’m not included in that group.”

Marcie scoffed and shoved a clump of unruly hair from her eyes. She truly looked like death warmed over. “Oh, please. You’re no better than me without your coffee. And I loaned you clothes. You should be nice to me.” She started to sip her coffee and stopped to add, “And I’m the bride. That’s a free ticket to tolerance, even if I admitted that I only had decaf in the house.”

Jennifer gave her a mocking smile and leaned on the counter. “Which is why I made
you
coffee, not everyone else. I was joking about that part. Sort of. A little. Not really.” She blinked. “Wait. Are you telling me the coffee in that canister I used is decaf?”

“Uh-huh,” Marcie said, sipping from her cup with a keen eye. “Mark felt I was jittery with the wedding approaching.”

“Okay then,” Jennifer said. “I’m headed to Starbucks so you can keep the thermos I was about to fill. Actually, I’ll take it and put a second cup in it.” She narrowed her gaze. “Be nice to your husband-to-be while I’m gone or I won’t bring it back.” The two lovebirds had been snapping at each other yet again this morning, and Jennifer was starting to worry about them.

“He tricked me into agreeing to skydive,” Marcie said. “And he forced decaf on me. You know how serious that is.”

Bobby sauntered into the kitchen, looking weary, his eyes heavy. Jennifer had a feeling he hadn’t slept at all. “Do I smell coffee?” he asked.

“It’s all your fault,” Marcie accused, glaring at Bobby. “You and your stupid ‘let’s go skydiving’ suggestion. Well, Bobby, I’ll tell you right now, if I’m skydiving, let’s go today when I’m nice and sick so I can aim in your direction.”

“Reservations are for tomorrow,” he said, snagging a cup from the cabinet and filling it. “Mark and I planned it so everyone could recover from the party. And don’t either of you tell me you can’t go.” He eyed Jennifer. “I know you close your clinic that day.” His gaze shifted to Marcie. “And Mark has the bar covered.” Jennifer handed him the vanilla creamer on the counter without thinking, knowing he liked it. He took it from her, a twinkle in his eyes, telling her he caught what she’d done.

“Don’t get too excited,” she told him. “It’s decaf.”

Bobby set the cream down. “Oh, hell. What the flip, Marcie? I thought only little old ladies bought decaf.”

“And high-strung brides-to-be,” Mark said, walking into the kitchen, looking about as half-dead as Marcie. “Drastic actions were required if I’m going to survive until the wedding.”

“You want me to jump out of a plane, but I can’t have caffeine,” Marcie complained. “That’s wrong.”

Mark arched a brow. “I’m not seeing the problem.” He glanced at Bobby. “Can you help me roll the cover over the dance floor, man? I don’t want those guys moaning at me when they come to pick it up.”

“Sure,” Bobby said, without hesitation. Bobby had always been willing to help a friend. Last night had proven to Jennifer that hadn’t changed. She liked that about him. One of the things that had made loving Bobby so easy was liking him. Jennifer turned away, put the thermos in the cabinet, intentionally giving Bobby her back for fear her expression was a little too transparent—the “I loved you, please don’t let me love you again” feeling twisting in her stomach.

Mark walked to Marcie and kissed her. “And don’t you moan at me either, or I might have to turn you over my knee.”

“Promises, promises,” Marcie mumbled.

Jennifer shut the cabinet to find Bobby sipping the coffee and setting it down. He winked at Jennifer. “Pretend there is caffeine. It tastes the same.”

“It’s the jolt, not the taste, I was going for,” she assured him.

Before she knew his intention, he grabbed her and kissed her. “How’s that for a jolt?” he asked softly.

She’d let him know when she stopped vibrating, which might be several hours from now. “Bobby,” she chided.

He leaned close, his lips near her ear, his breath warm, his body hot and hard. “You felt good last night,” he whispered.

“Ready, Bobby?” Mark asked. Bobby pulled back and gave a nod to Mark, but his gaze was on Jennifer. “I’m ready.” He then pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a boyfriend kind of kiss, not a two-week bedroom buddy kiss, and walked away.

“He’s ready,” Marcie said, the minute Bobby and Mark disappeared. “Are you? Or did you get your fill last night?”

Jennifer wasn’t about to have this conversation. “The only thing I’m ready for right now,” she said, “is Starbucks.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh.” She grabbed her purse. “I need to run.”

Marcie made a chicken sound. “Run is right. From Bobby.”

Jennifer scoffed and started toward the door, calling over her shoulder, “Why would I run from two weeks of incredible sex?”

But deep in her heart, she knew she was, indeed, running. Running because no matter how many times she told herself sex alone was enough with Bobby, sex was a way to end this on her terms, she knew she could only take so many of Bobby’s mind-blowing kisses before she got hurt. And she liked to think she was smarter than that, having learned from past mistakes. Yeah, she thought. She had learned how to get hurt by Bobby. She was highly skilled at it, in fact. So much so, that she feared she might be excelling at doing it all over again.