Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (19 page)

“Yeah, yeah, I took all the same personality-type tests. Supposedly I’m an introverted, touchy-feely intellect. What does that prove? Zip. Nada.”

“It demonstrates that most of these guys are sensitive. They wouldn’t be able to do their jobs at the level of expertise they do if they weren’t.”

“They’re sensitive, all right. So sensitive they don’t remember to call a girl for over a year.”

“Aha! I knew you had a deep resentment about him. It’s from when you worked together before, isn’t it? What happened there, Joy?”

“Nothing. Not in the way you think or want. Yes, we share an attraction. No, it’s never gotten further than a—” She stopped herself.

Emily’s steady gaze made Joy clench her jaw.

“We’ve kissed, okay? And only recently. Nothing happened until we weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice anymore.”

“Spoken like a Navy JAG.”

“Former. As of right now, as a matter of fact, I’m a full-fledged civilian.”

“Welcome to the real world, Joy.”

“Thanks.”

“In this world, women go after what they want, no matter what. Well, as long as it’s not hurting someone else. And you obviously want Brad. You can’t sit on your hands here. Trust me, he’ll thank you for it, and you’ll thank me for telling you this.”

“What makes you such an expert, Em? You didn’t look too happy when I left you with your guy, Ben. Although he seemed very enthusiastic at your book signing.”

The usually unflappable Emily turned as pink as her hoodie. “He’s just someone I work with. We’re...friends.”

“Do you blush over all the medical professionals you work with?”

“Give it a rest. I’m not ready for anything more than a date or two.”

“Your husband’s been gone for over a decade, Em. It’s time.”

“It was time five years ago, if you ask me. The right guy hasn’t shown up yet. A common occurrence for a career woman on an isolated island in Puget Sound.”

“Whidbey’s not that isolated. And you work on the Naval Air Station, where there have to be at least a zillion single men who’d love to get to know you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get to know them. I’m happy here. Like you, I like my life just as it is.”

“You’ve told me you want to move on. Maybe even leave the island.”

“For the right reasons. A Navy guy who’s going to be uprooted every other year? I’m not sure I want that lifestyle again.”

Joy stayed silent. Like Serena, but in a different way, Emily had been through a horrific experience early in her marriage to a young Navy man. She’d made Whidbey her home after she’d lost her husband.

As much as Joy didn’t want to see Emily leave Whidbey, she couldn’t help thinking giving up a house was nothing compared to the chance to be with the man you wanted to spend your life with.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Emily’s hand paused over the soggy fries. “Yes, I suppose I do. Still, he’s so persistent and...and presumptuous. Just because we get along well in the delivery room, he thinks that’ll translate to the outside world—and to the bedroom.”

“Has he asked you into his bedroom?”

“Not in so many words. Let’s say we’ve had our kisses, too.” Emily looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m late.”

“You have today off.”

“I scheduled a mani-pedi and massage. Pamper-me stuff.”

“So you’re doing that for you?” Joy had never seen Emily with polished nails. She kept them short and clean for nursing and for knitting.

“Why not?”

“Kid yourself if you want, Em, but you’re not fooling me. You’ve got the hots for the good doctor.”

“Maybe, but you’ve got a lot
more
than the hots for your SEAL, Joy. You’ve got the makings of a life-changing relationship. Go find that man.”

Emily stood up from the wooden bench, and Joy followed suit.

As she dumped the contents of her plastic basket into the trash receptacle and placed it in the pile collecting on top, she noticed a blue Jeep Wrangler speeding past. She only caught a brief glimpse of the driver, but she’d know him anywhere.

Brad. And he was driving north. Toward Deception Pass Bridge, which meant he was leaving the island.

She knew he was going back to Seattle, knew the case here was done for him. Her defenses had never let her down before, but in the flash of seeing him again, a pang of regret and longing squeezed something buried in her chest.

Her heart.

* * *

“I’
M
STOPPING
IN
at the office today, Mike. Not a new problem or anything.” He spoke on the new Bureau hands-free cell phone Mike had given him before he left Joy’s.

“No, you’ve done enough for a while. Go home, get some rest. Report back on Monday morning. You did a good job, bro.”

“So did you, and my team deserves some extra perks for their hours, Mike.”

“Already done. Most of them are taking the rest of the week off, too. This case has attracted attention at the highest levels. The director is going to brief POTUS in fifteen minutes.”

“You need me on the line for that, Mike. What if he has more questions?”

“Then the director will answer them with the notes you provided earlier. If he needs backup, that’s what I’m being paid the big bucks for. Go home.”

“Right.”

“And, Brad?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you decided to make it real with Joy?”

Brad swerved to avoid a pickup truck that had turned into his lane with no warning.

“Brad?”

“I’m here. Just had to dodge a bad driver. I swear I-5 gets worse every day.”

“Stop avoiding the question, teammate.”

“There’s nothing to avoid. You know she’s the JAG I had to work with to get a villager freed. I trusted her, then and now, and it was the right decision. She was a good shipmate, helped me get through the past few days. Got me to Grimes, where I got this Jeep.”

“You sure she didn’t do anything else for you?”

Crap. Did Mike know about the case files?

“She might have done some searching, tried to unearth some info on the previous case. You know, with...”

He didn’t want to say Farid’s name over an insecure line, and certainly not on a cell phone.

“Gotcha. We’re checking that out, too.”

“Let me do it. Let me talk to him.” He’d love to be able to see Farid face-to-face again. Reassure himself that he and Joy had made the right decision all those months ago.

“You can’t, you know that. We’ll talk about it on Monday. It can wait until then. You still didn’t answer the question, bro.”

“And I’m not going to.”

He disconnected in the middle of Mike’s bark of laughter.

* * *

J
OY
HAD
NEVER
done anything this crazy. Driving into Seattle on a work night, when she had to be at work in the morning. The two-hour drive wasn’t such a burden, but doing it twice in less than twelve hours was a bit much.

“Exit in one mile.”

Her GPS told her what she knew—she was close to Brad’s place. She had the address from the information she’d taken while they’d discussed the facts of the explosion. When she’d agreed to help him again.

As she eased off the highway, she entered a residential neighborhood. She wasn’t all that familiar with Seattle and had imagined Brad in an apartment or condo.

Instead, her GPS directed her to a lovely craftsman-style home on a street completely lined with trees. It was obviously Brad’s as General Grimes’s Jeep sat in his driveway.

Butterflies whirled around in her stomach as though she’d swallowed an entire flock. Before she could change her mind, she squared her shoulders and got out of the car.

Wide steps led up to a bright red door, which she thought was a nice touch for a bachelor.

He could have had a woman’s help
.

She shoved the irritating image of Brad with another woman out of her mind. This was scary enough.

The door opened within seconds of her pressing the doorbell.

“Joy.”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp, and wearing a gray T-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders. It emphasized the physique that had enabled him to scale West Beach as if it were a child’s playground equipment.

“Hi, Brad.”

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

His eyes were surrounded by lines of exhaustion, but their glimmer was unmistakable. He was happy to see her.

“Something like that.”

“Come on in.” He stepped aside, and she caught a whiff of his soap and the clean smell of the house.

Clean
wasn’t the right word. The house
sparkled
. The wooden bannisters and molding gleamed; that had to be the result of hours of physical labor. The deep cherrywood offset the cream wallpaper and simple but elegant brass touches on the light fixtures and switches.

“Brad, this is beautiful.”

He shrugged. “I needed something to do on my weekends.”

“Are you renting or is this yours?” She walked farther into his home and ran her fingers along the wood, relishing the cool, firm feel of it. This was a pleasant change from the modern design of her house.

“I bought it. The Bureau doesn’t move agents around as much as the Navy, unless you really want to transfer.”

“Was it already in decent shape or did you have a lot to do?”

“The bones were all there, but I rebuilt the walls and refinished the molding.”

“That’s an enormous project.”

He was beside her and she wanted to turn toward him but felt suddenly shy, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

It didn’t matter. She was here, and it was time to start living the life she wanted instead of hiding from what she feared.

“Like I said, my weekends were free, at least before I went undercover.” His fingers were in her hair, lifting the strands as he worked his way down to her neck, massaging it.

“Was there a lot of traffic?” he asked.

“Not once I decided to come...oh! That feels so good.” She leaned over to allow him access to her sore muscles.

“Let’s go into the kitchen and get something to drink. Later I can give you a full massage.”

“Full?” She turned to look at him.

“Yes.” The same hands that had been stroking her neck were at her lower back as he pulled her against him.

His head lowered and she closed her eyes, wanting to soak up every bit of their time together.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

B
RAD
LOVED
THE
need in Joy’s kiss, hot and wet. He wanted to devour every inch of her.

Not yet.

He pulled back, and his erection became harder at the flush on her cheeks and her dilated pupils. All from a quick neck rub and one kiss. She’d be positively glowing after a climax...

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked.

“I grabbed a burger on the way down. I didn’t want to waste any more time.”

That was as close to a confession of need or want he’d ever heard from Joy. “What’s making you so anxious?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, but grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen with him. He turned back when she stopped in her tracks.

“What?”

“This kitchen is incredible, Brad. I didn’t know you were a cook, too.” She gestured at the copper pots hanging on the wall.

“I like to keep my tools handy, whether it’s woodworking or cooking. Hanging the pots gave me more room in the cupboards. These old homes don’t have big kitchens like yours.”

“It looks like you’ve made the most of every inch of this place.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll give you the big tour in a few minutes. Red or white?” He pulled out a corkscrew.

“Do you have any open?”

“Nope. I’m usually a beer guy. Your choices are limited, but I do have a couple of nice bottles of each. They’re in the beverage cooler on the other side of the island. I don’t have high-quality glasses, though.”

“That’s okay.”

Watching her ass in her jeans as she walked around the butcher-block work surface was something he could get used to.
Too
used to.

“You have my favorite. Hey, it’s fate.”

She held up a bottle of Washington State Cabernet Sauvignon.

“I always aim to please the ladies.”

It was supposed to be an offhanded comment. But in typical fashion he’d shoved his big foot in his wayward mouth, judging by the lines of wariness that were back on Joy’s face.

“Joy, that’s just an expression.”

She blew a strand of her lovely hair off her forehead and handed him the bottle.

“It’s none of my business.”

He opened the wine and left the cork on the island.

“I’d like it to be your business. If you want it to be.”

The island was the only thing separating them. The obvious question was—how serious were they willing to make this?

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the house while the wine breathes?” He’d always respected Joy’s composure and grace under pressure. It was the same thing he found himself resenting now. He wanted to tear down every last inch of the wall she kept between herself and the outside world.

“Let’s start upstairs.”

* * *

H
E
ENJOYED
WATCHING
her expression, her reactions to each room as he opened the doors.

“I keep the doors closed so the house stays warmer this time of year. I open them in the summer.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t put in central air.”

“It’s coming. Much as I hate the thought of it, it’s a reality that our summers are getting warmer. The heat this last summer was insane.”

“Yes, it was. So we both were moving into our new homes at about the same time?” She ran her fingers over the ivory and cobalt subway tiles in the smallish bathroom. “Are these original?”

“No, I wanted them in the same style, but I couldn’t bear the Pepto-Bismol pink of the originals. Plus, a lot of them were cracked.”

“This is more masculine, for sure, but not too much. I like how clean and fresh it looks. Sometimes an old bathroom can make the entire house feel grungy.”

“True.”

“It’d be nice if this bathroom had a big tub.”

“I’m a shower person. I know the claw-foot is a big thing now, but I went all out on the shower. I did have help. Mike’s brother is a contractor in the city, and he took care of it.”

As she looked at the large shower with glass on three sides, all he could envision was her naked body pressed up against the steamed glass, with him behind her...

“I think the wine’s done breathing.”

She looked surprised. His tone was rough, but damn it, he only had so much control when he was around her, and he didn’t want to take her to bed until they’d had a chance to talk. Until they were clear on one thing—that they both wanted this.

* * *

“W
E
NEED
TO
TALK
. About us.”
Joy braced herself for his response, hoping he wouldn’t resist any attempt at communication that didn’t involve terrorists, felons or war.

“I agree.” He leaned over and poured more wine into their glasses. They’d had their first glass in his kitchen. She’d almost laughed at the way they’d danced around what she was really there for. How they looked at each other over the rim of the acrylic glasses, waiting to see what the other was going to do, to say.

“Mind if I go first?” He gave Joy her glass.

“No, not at all.” Did he see her hand shake when she took the glass from him? Did he have any idea that the tremor was caused by desire?

“Obviously, you’ll be staying the night. You’re having a second glass of wine and since it’s at least an hour since you’ve eaten, plus it’s a two-hour drive to Whidbey—well, it’s a done deal.”

Despite everything, defiance rose in her throat. “Slow down, Brad.”

“I’m not finished.” He sipped his wine and studied the red liquid in the plastic glass. “I need to get real glasses if you’re going to be here more often. But I digress.”

“I’m listening.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you are. This is killing the lawyer in you, isn’t it? Having to listen to me first. What I want to tell you is that there’s nothing I want more than you staying the night, with me, in my bed. And you didn’t ask, but I’m telling you anyway. You’re the only woman who’s ever been in this house with me.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t have a long list of requirements for a relationship, Joy. I’m a simple man with a complicated job. Truth is, I’ve never looked for much of a relationship before. Marci was a disastrous exception.”

“This isn’t necessarily about a relationship, Brad. It’s about a closure of sorts. And it’s about exploration. Curiosity.” That sounded sophisticated and no-strings-attached, didn’t it?

“I’m waving the flag on that one, Joy.” She knew he was referring to the bullshit flag, common Navy parlance. “You and I have shared too much for anything between us to be free and easy. If we have sex, it’s going to be the start of a relationship. We’re on the same page, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ah, the
but
. I guess it’s my turn to listen.”

“
But
we have choices at every stage of this, Brad. I’m not going to hold you emotionally hostage if it doesn’t work out for us. We might discover that we’re not compatible.”

“Seriously?”

His expression of incredulity forced a laugh from her.

“The anticipation is often much more exciting than the actual, um, follow-through.”

His fingers were on her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.

“Who hurt you, Joy? Who made you think that the
follow-through
wasn’t much to write home about?”

She swallowed. “It’s not any one person. I don’t have a long history of failed relationships or even a divorce. Just that my work has always proved more interesting than the effort it’d take to form a real relationship.” There. Finally, she’d voiced what she’d never told anyone else. That she didn’t believe any man could compare to the mental challenge and satisfaction she got from practicing law.

“I agree with you.”

She knew she sounded shocked. “You do? That’s, that’s...wonderful?”

They both smiled, and he clinked his glass to hers. It was more of a
clunk
since the acrylic didn’t have the resonance of crystal or glass, but she felt the vibration. “Joy, we each have very interesting and exciting careers. Other than fantastic sex, which almost always becomes routine, what else could measure up to our work?”

She blinked. “Right. So we agree this will be closure. We’ll have no expectation of seeing each other at definite intervals, no holidays or weekends together.”

“Jeez, Joy, are you sure you even want to start this?”

“Yes! I mean, yes, I’m certain.” The flock of butterflies was back, and she felt fear crawl along her spine. Fear that she’d blown it and ruined any chance for her and Brad to get together at all.

Because if she didn’t experience what being with Brad was like, in the most complete way, she didn’t know if she’d ever have the nerve to attempt an intimate relationship with any other man.

Since she’d met Brad, there hadn’t been any other man.

That wasn’t something she was willing to share with him. Not yet.

Brad stared at the space in front of him as if he was working through a mission plan before its execution.

“What are you thinking now?” she asked.

After leaning over and placing his glass on the coffee table, he took her glass and did the same. His green eyes blazed with an emotion she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “I’m thinking it’s time to stop talking and—what did you say earlier? Oh, yeah. Explore other means of communication. Like this.”

She closed her eyes, willing him to kiss her.

“Open your eyes, Joy.”

When she saw the desire in his expression, she thought she’d melt into the couch. He cupped her face before sliding his hands down to her shoulders, her waist and then back up to her breasts. He cupped them through her pullover and tank top, caressing and gently squeezing until her breath caught.

She reached up and caressed his face. His jaw was rough with stubble, contrasting with the smooth skin on his cheeks. He did his best to distract her with the play of his fingers over her breasts, but she gave as good as she got. His chest was hard, firm and entirely too heavily clothed.

Tugging his shirt out of his jeans, she reached up to lift it over his arms. Brad took advantage of her position and lifted off her top, leaving her in her tank and bra. They took turns stroking, nipping, sucking and teasing until they were both breathing in shallow gasps.

Yet only after she thought she couldn’t possibly wait any longer did Brad close the gap between them and cover her mouth with his.

The kiss went from seductive to possessive as Brad’s tongue dipped into her mouth.

Joy had always enjoyed kissing, but kissing Brad was elevated above any previous kiss. It was another level of intimacy she’d never experienced. As if they were talking to each other with their lips, their hands.

The cool leather of his sofa contrasted with her hot skin as he eased her back and lay above her. He supported his weight on his forearms, his hips above hers but not touching them. Was he afraid of hurting her?

She drew his hips down to hers until they were pelvis to pelvis, belly to belly. A sound that was more like a growl came from his throat, and pure female satisfaction made her senses even more aware of him.

This was what she’d longed for since they’d met.

* * *

J
OY
KNEW
SOMEWHERE
deep inside her that this was going to happen. She’d known it from the first moment he’d touched her, less than seventy-two hours ago, standing in her kitchen. She’d anticipated the feel of him since the very beginning—since that brief first glimpse in Gitmo and through the long days in Norfolk. Since the hours spent poring over his testimony and her defendant’s, breathing the same air in the close confines of the tiny office, where they’d studied the classified documents. Now, no vestiges of professional demeanor remained to keep them from acting on the chemistry between them. As they continued to kiss and caress, getting closer to a point of no return, she couldn’t help the fact that one part of her mind held back and tried to make sense of how she felt about Brad.

He’d always been different from other men. He didn’t ogle her, nor did he pretend that the sexual tension wasn’t there. While they worked together with such intensity on an extraordinary case, they’d never, in any way, addressed their attraction. The way he’d looked her in the eye as they discussed important parts of the case, the way he’d allowed her plenty of personal space—it all showed that he’d respected the need to abstain from any involvement beyond the professional.

She’d ignored her own reactions, too—at least when they were together. Back in her Virginia apartment, she’d list the reasons she didn’t make a habit of getting involved with colleagues, especially Navy shipmates. Too complicated. Too much baggage on both sides, especially if the affair started downrange and then they tried to take it back stateside. That rarely worked. Sex for escape was common during times of extreme duress.

Defending a man who’d been identified as working with the Taliban, with enough evidence to send him to prison for life, had been one of those times. Because if she was wrong, if
they
were wrong, she’d have to live with the fact that she’d helped free a terrorist.

Farid
was
innocent; she’d known it from Brad’s confidence, his acknowledgement that yes, Farid had looked like a ruthless terrorist on paper. But, according to Brad, Farid had saved his life and the lives of scores of other Americans.

Everything had hinged on Brad’s testimony.

They’d done it. They’d set Farid free, and then all parted ways.

She’d watched Brad walk away after that last day in court. His step was sure, his khaki uniform emphasizing the superb shape he kept himself in, even when he’d probably never serve in another SEAL mission. She’d blinked back tears. They’d accomplished a feat very few others had. And she’d never be able to share it with anyone else. The details of the case had to be sealed for the next few decades.

She’d refused to admit she’d fallen for Brad.
How can you fall for someone you’ve never touched?
Someone who’d had a fiancée, who’d never made a single move toward her.

And besides all that, he’d been an enlisted man, a man Navy regulations had forbidden her to have a relationship with.