Terms of Surrender (5 page)

She held herself rigid, waiting for his answer.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Not exactly a refusal. But not a yes, either.

“Here’s another idea,” he said. “How about you spring for a couple of burgers and come with me to the marina? We can take my boat out and watch the sunset over the water.”

Oh, wow. That definitely sounded more like a date than a thank-you. A very intimate, romantic kind of date, which was crazy since she didn’t even know this guy.

Don’t be stupid. Women go on blind dates all the time with men they’ve never met.

But in a boat, far from land? How crazy was that? What if he turned out to be some Freddy Krueger type? Her plastic-wrapped body parts might wash ashore all up and down the eastern seaboard. What if they never found her head?

He held up a hand, palm out. “Wait, scratch that. You don’t even know me—I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. You’re probably worrying I’m going to kidnap you or something.”
Or something.

She didn’t say anything. Not a word. Especially not about her fear that they wouldn’t find her head.

“But lunch would be great, thanks. I’m glad you asked.”

“You wanted me to?”

“If you hadn’t, I would have. Believe me, I wasn’t going to let you leave without at least getting your name.”

“It’s Mari…Marissa.” She extended her hand in greeting.

“Mari,” he said, zoning in on her nickname, as though he’d immediately decided it suited her better than her formal one. It was like he could see past the rigid hairstyle and the plain clothes and the reason she was here and already knew the more free-spirited woman who lay beneath all that. “Nice to meet you, Mari. I’m Danny.”

He took her hand in his larger one, and she forgot to breathe for a second, wondering why such a simple touch made her shiver. His skin was warm, his grip firm, the fingers strong and the palm rough. And he didn’t let go right away, hesitating for the briefest moment, as if he, too, were savoring the first connection of skin-on-skin.

Their stares met. He’d pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and the late afternoon sunshine brought a brilliant gleam to those amber eyes. The gentle smile of pleasure on his face told her so many things—that he was glad to have met her, that he had wanted to ask her out, that he did look forward to getting to know her.

That he was interested. Maybe even as interested as she was. And she, being totally honest with herself, was
very
interested. More interested in him than she’d been in any man for a very long time.

They might have nothing in common, might not know each other, but they definitely had sparks. Electricity. Plus he was kind, thoughtful…and sexy as hell. Anyone with a fully functioning vagina would be interested.

Finally releasing her hand, he said, “Can I admit I was grateful for your dead battery?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It saved me from having to dump a box of nails in the parking lot, hoping you’d run over them and flatten a tire, so I’d have to help you out.”

She laughed softly, liking that he’d been so serious about seeing her again…even if his methods sounded a little outrageous. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d acted on them.

“Mental note. Potential stalker,” she said, her tone wry.

“I just know a good thing when I see it.” He lowered his voice to add, “You’re somebody I want to get to know better.”

“Why? Because I’m nervy enough to park illegally at a naval academy?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, his mouth quirking higher on one side. That twinkle reappeared and he seemed wickedly amused as he added, “Plus, I just have to know more about a girl who takes off her underwear and leaves them in her car right before a big job interview.”

DANNY PROBABLY SHOULDN’T have said anything about finding Mari’s undergarments in her glove compartment. He’d caught her off guard, and the gentleman he’d claimed to be definitely wouldn’t have brought it up. He could easily have pretended he had never seen a thing, saving both of them from embarrassment.

But Danny was ungentlemanly enough that he couldn’t help it. Mari was just too sexy to resist, and too contradictory not to try to figure out.

He couldn’t deny he’d been very curious about her even before he’d found the wadded-up ball of fabric in her car. And once he had? Whoa. Reaching in for the manual to check the engine specs and winding up with his hand covered in soft, silky, woman-scented material had been a delightful shock. He’d already been sure he wanted to get to know her better. That surprising discovery had changed the very meaning of the word
know
to a much more carnal variation.

It hadn’t taken a lot of imagination to put everything together and figure out what she’d done. There’d been their previous conversation, her nervousness, the way she’d been fiddling around in her car when he’d first come out to warn her away from the Employees Only parking lot.

He had to admit, he hadn’t been sure how she would react when he told her she’d been busted. But she hadn’t slapped his face or stalked away or cussed him out.

She’d groaned once. Her pretty face had turned a little bit pink. Then she’d burst into laughter, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Even now, several seconds later, unrestrained giggles erupted from her lips as she tried to explain.

“You…aren’t supposed to know that!”

He wagged his eyebrows. “I didn’t, not 100%. Not until you just confirmed it, anyway.”

She slapped her palm against her forehead. “I can’t believe I fell for it. I should have pretended I had no idea what you were talking about.”

“That
might
have worked, but, uh, I was pretty sure. Now, fess up…is that what we were really talking about earlier?”

“’Fraid so.”

Remembering everything he’d said before, he added, “So you thought I was offering to get in your car and, what, give you
directions
on how to pull up your own underwear?”

“Something like that.”

He snorted. “The day I need to use a line like that is the day I trade in my single-man-on-the-prowl club card.”

Her smile might have faded the tiniest bit. “Are you?”

“Am I what? Single?”

“And on the prowl?”

Knowing she was questioning her own instincts, wondering if he was some kind of sleazy on-the-make playboy, he answered her truthfully. “Yes and no. I’m single, but I haven’t been accused of prowling since I was ten and played my last game of Ding-Dong-Dash at old Mrs. McCurdy’s house.”

“Ding-Dong…”

“You know. Ring the doorbell and run? Didn’t you ever play that as a kid?”

She shuddered. “I grew up on military bases. No doorbells. And not much of a sense of humor from most of the guys who lived behind those doors.”

“Yeah, well, old Mrs. McCurdy didn’t laugh much, either.”

One corner of her mouth went up. “You got caught?”

“Uh-huh. She was pretty spry for being on the verge of mummification.”

Tsking, she shook her head. “Couldn’t outrun an old lady. Bet your friends didn’t let you live that one down.”

“Nope, even though they all bailed on me when she grabbed me by the back of the shirt and dragged me into the house so she could call my parents.”

“Uh-oh. Sounds like the opening of a horror movie on the Chiller channel.”

“Just about. Get this, while we waited for my folks to show up, she made me look at her poor, swollen feet to show me how horrible I’d been to make her get up to answer the door.”

“Eww!”

“Tell me about it. Old lady feet—is there anything worse to a ten-year-old boy?”

“Bet you never rang any doorbells and ran again,” she quipped.

He held his fingers up in a Scout’s promise. “Not once.”

“She sounds like a smart old lady.”

His lips quirked. “She was. I felt so guilty afterward I always brought her paper up onto her porch instead of tossing it into the driveway.” Then he added, “And she definitely taught me a lesson.”

“About ringing doorbells?”

“About feet. If you ever need something to kill a fleeting moment of happiness, or a glimmer of sexual interest? Just think of old feet.”

“Noted. But for the record, I happen to have great feet and I don’t intend to let that change.” Her smile was bright and comfortable, as if she’d finally let down all guard, and was being completely herself for the first time since they’d met.

“Great feet, huh? Most people wouldn’t claim that.”

She shrugged. “Don’t ask what I think about my goofy-looking ears or my thin, flat hair, but I have supreme confidence in my feet. Even pedicurists compliment them.”

He glanced down at the sexy, spike-heeled pumps. He’d like to pull them off and closely examine those feet. Then work his way up. Inch by devastating inch.

He already knew he’d have to add her calves to the list of fabulous body parts. And he suspected if he kept going up those legs, he’d find quite a few more.

Danny shook his head, hard. Jesus, this woman was turning him into some kind of hound dog. He never started immediately thinking about how sexy a woman was right after meeting her. If she was attractive? Sure. Smart? Yeah. But downright I-think-I’ll-die-if-I-can’t-go-to-bed-with-you-soon thoughts? Uh-uh.

He knew why. It wasn’t just how attractive she was—he’d met plenty of attractive women. It was because of the sharp bolt of utter, mouth-watering want that had roared through him when he’d stuck his hand in her glove compartment and found himself wrist-deep in sexy, feminine undergarments. The flood of images that had gone through his brain, the sweet scent lingering in the air, the silky feel against his skin. All that had combined to put him on red alert.

Even changing her car’s battery and checking her oil had done nothing to cool him down. Because he’d thought about nothing but charging
her
battery and slickening up
her
engine.

“I might not ever be in line to model Dior in Paris, but I bet I could sell a lot of Dr. Scholl’s at Target. So you might just be in luck when it comes to
my
old lady feet,” she said with a laugh. “I might even be able to pull off flip-flops at seventy and not make you want to hurl.”

Her words brought an image to his mind—him still knowing her, all those years in the future. And for some reason, Danny didn’t laugh with her.

Maybe it was that crazy karma thing—fate, serendipity. Whatever the reason, despite being a thirty-three-year-old bachelor, he suddenly found the idea of being with someone for
that
long, knowing someone
that
intimately, a little appealing.

Oh, it had always appealed to him when he thought of his parents and grandparents, all of whom were alive and happy back in Chicago. But he hadn’t really given much thought to it for himself. He’d been focused on so many other things.

First, of course, on flight. That he’d focused on from the age of five when his mechanic father had first taken him to a field beneath a landing flight path at O’Hare and he’d felt the power of a 747 shaking his small body like an earthquake.

Then, during a family trip to Disney World, he’d gotten his dad to take him over to Kennedy to watch a shuttle launch. And he’d suddenly begun to dream about another kind of flight altogether.

Everything he’d done since that point had been with an eye toward space.

He knew it would take years—and he’d planned his route carefully, knowing how most astronauts made their way into the manned space flight program. He’d listed his goals—air flight, navy, NASA—and pursued them with diligence from the time he hit high school, making sure he got the grades to get into Annapolis. Succeeding at this very academy had been key. Not just for everything that would come later, but also to justify the expense and sacrifices his family had made to get him here.