The Officer Breaks the Rules (2 page)

Why, oh God, why had Jeremy even thought that hinting about wanting to get out when
his contract was up was a good idea? It always led to this. An old-fashioned standoff
at the OK Corral.

Because
you
needed
a
distraction, and even a lecture from Dad is better than sitting around thinking about…
her.

If he hadn’t known that his father’s pushing came from a place of caring, if he didn’t
respect his father, it would have been so much easier to simply hang up and not deal
with it. But Jeremy waited until his father’s bluster wore down, then he told his
dad he’d call again next weekend. Reluctantly, his father hung up, apparently satisfied
that at least Jeremy wasn’t going to run out and sign his separation papers first
thing Monday morning.

No. He wouldn’t do that. Though the thought occurred to him more and more every week
that he was done, through, completely finished with the Corps. But the actual act
of leaving? Jeremy wasn’t an idiot. That would never happen. Not to mention, he had
no clue what the hell he would do after ten years in the Marines. Maybe that was crazy,
even contemplating leaving the Corps without a settled plan. But he couldn’t help
the direction of his thoughts.

As if on cue, his mind drifted back to Madison. Watching her��though she wouldn’t
have realized he was—at the gun range today had sparked a heavy, undeniable pressure
in his chest. There was something ridiculously sexual about watching slim, delicate
fingers that he knew were soft and smooth load a gun without hesitation, take aim,
and fire like it was all business.

And didn’t that say something about how far gone he was, if watching her shoot turned
him on? The way he’d acted around her the last time they’d been alone, he was shocked
she didn’t use him for target practice.

He forced his mind back to the current clusterfuck of problems… life after the Marines.
If there was such a thing. His father would disagree. And at the core of it, Jeremy
knew defying his father’s life plan for him just wasn’t going to happen.

Jeremy pushed off the couch and wandered to his computer desk a mere fifteen feet
away. That was the beauty of a small apartment… nothing was far out of reach. He sucked
in a breath and prayed as he lifted the sleeve of his left arm, then breathed out
with relief when he found none of the ink on his arm had smeared beyond recognition.
Opening up a new Word document, he typed furiously, doing his best to make out the
notes he had scribbled on his arm so quickly at the firing range.

A brand-new villain to add to the mix. A new set of problems for his characters. Challenges
to overcome. The core of his book started to reformulate and reassemble in his mind,
like gears locking into place and cranking the machine to life.

Finally spent, he sat back and stared at the cursor blinking on the screen. Why the
hell couldn’t he do this after he got out? Write. At least part-time.

It’s a pansy-ass excuse for a career.

Jeremy blew out a breath and rolled his chair over to the miniature kitchen area—which
the landlord had sworn was a “kitchenette,” though Jeremy was sure that was just to
make it sound less like a hole in the wall. He grabbed a bottle of water and shut
the fridge door again before he could be reminded there was likely something—or several
somethings—in there that should have been tossed out who knows how long ago. Maybe
if he gave it another week they’d grow legs and walk themselves out.

If he could just finish the damn manuscript, maybe send it out to a few places, that
would give him an idea about whether his efforts were even worth it. Nobody had to
know, he rationalized, taking a drink to wash away the dry mouth that took over every
time he thought about letting someone read his work.

His eyes swung back to his cell phone, his father’s words still echoing in his ears.
Could he actually walk away? Sad that a man in his thirties just couldn’t answer that
question for himself. But his father’s respect meant more to him than he could explain.

He had a while yet. If nothing looked promising, he could sign for another three years.
It wouldn’t kill him.

What might kill him, though, was keeping his hands off his best friend’s little sister
for as long as they were both stationed together.

***

Madison knocked once then pushed the front door open. The knock was just a polite
show of respect, now that Tim wasn’t alone in the home. His wife, Skye, didn’t care
if she came and went as she pleased. But Veronica was still a little skittish, and
Madison tried her best not to scare the poor girl.

“Skye? Veronica?” Madison dropped her bag on the entry table and kicked off her shoes,
letting them land next to the pile of Skye’s sandals by the door. “Anyone here?”

Skye’s voice drifted from the living room. “In here!”

Madison turned the corner to see Skye and Veronica with their heads bent over what
looked like an old issue of some women’s magazine. “What’s up? Taking one of those
‘Is he hot for you?’ quizzes?”

Skye laughed, and to Madison’s surprise, Veronica smiled as well. The girl was quiet,
reserved in a way Madison could never identify with. But slowly, as the second month
closed on her visit with her cousin Skye, the girl came out of her shell a little
more. Encouraged, Madison sat on the other side of Veronica and peered over her shoulder.

But before she could see what they were looking at, Skye smoothly closed the magazine
and slid it to the coffee table. “Just passing time. Tim went into the office for
a while after the range, and we both have the day off so we’re doing the girl-time
thing.”

Curious, but not willing to pry, Madison let the idea of asking about the magazine
go. She shifted back until she was propped against the arm of the couch. “Cool. What’s
on the agenda?”

“You have a full day off?” Veronica asked.

“Today and tomorrow. I actually have a weekend off, on a weekend.”

Skye gave a shocked face. “Imagine that!”

Her work hours were the definition of awkward, being a nurse at the naval hospital
on base. But she loved the job too much to ever care. Midnight, four in the morning,
high noon… if she was at work, it was a good day—most of the time. But still, everyone
needed a break.

“How’s the restaurant thing coming along, Veronica?”

The woman ducked her head but forced it back up and gave her a smile. “It’s good.
I’m lucky Skye gave me the serving job.”

“No luck at all. You’re a natural. Very detail-oriented, quick, responsible.” Skye
smiled reassuringly. “I didn’t give it to you; you earned it.”

There was a story there, Madison mused. She’d known it since the day Veronica was
introduced to the group. But as Skye told them all, it wasn’t their place to pry into
people’s lives.

She heard the faint rumble of her brother’s engine, the whine of the garage door being
lifted, and she smiled.

“I actually came over to see if Veronica wanted to get some lunch with me,” she said,
and watched the other woman’s eyes light up. Veronica was good for the ego, that much
was for sure. She relished any chance to hang out or be invited somewhere.

“Yes!” She jumped up, then sat back down quickly. “Wait. I mean, Skye and I were going
to hang out this afternoon. So maybe—”

She stopped as the door opened and Tim walked in, surveying the trio of females.

“It’s like an Oprah book club in here.”

Madison flipped him the bird. “Oprah this. I was just asking Veronica to lunch with
me,” Madison said, then gave her brother an evil glance. “But I could always invite
Skye as well…”

“No, no.” Tim dropped his bag and headed to the kitchen. “Thanks a lot anyway, squirt.
But you two have fun. I’ll keep Skye company.”

“I’ll just bet you will,” Madison murmured with a smile.

Veronica looked less convinced, glancing between her and Skye. “Are you sure?”

Skye smiled and gave her cousin a friendly shove. “Yes, absolutely. Go! Have fun.
Get something sinfully delicious for dessert. Enjoy the day off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Madison quipped, then bent down to give her sister-in-law a kiss on
the cheek before grabbing Veronica’s hand and dragging her toward the front door.

As Veronica climbed in the passenger seat of Madison’s car, she bit her lip. “I hate
the thought of leaving Skye behind.”

“Left behind, but not left alone,” Madison said as she backed out of the driveway.
“Trust me, Tim will keep her busy.”

“Oh.” Veronica’s eyes widened almost comically. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh.” Enjoying the woman’s naïveté, Madison winked. “We should all be so lucky
to score a nooner.”

“Nooner?”

Madison laughed. “We have so much to talk about, you and I.”

Madison checked the whiteboard for her next patient. Working the ER wasn’t her favorite
rotation, but it was never a boring one.

“Here.” Her coworker, Matthew, shoved a clipboard in her stomach. She grabbed on before
it could clatter to the ground. “Curtain three. You’ll want this one.”

Madison screwed her eyes shut and held the chart to her chest. “Please tell me it’s
not another extraction. The last one almost did me in.”

Matthew snorted. “How that kid got so many dimes up his nose—”

“Among other places.”

“—is beyond me. But no, not an extraction. Road rash. Motorcyclist came in himself.”

“Just walked in? No other injuries? No ambulance?”

Matthew shook his head. “Nope, just the rash. Walked in, no limping. He was the only
vehicle involved, no crash. Just says he can’t reach the area to clean it himself,
doesn’t want to chance it.” He grimaced. “Despite the lack of injury, he was pretty
annoyed, though I think mostly at himself and the guy he had to swerve for. I think
your nice, soothing personality might do the trick.”

“Soothing personality, my ass. You just don’t want another patient. Smart guy, though,
coming in instead of trying to tough it out.” She grabbed the supplies she’d need
and tossed them on a small wheeled cart. She gave a quick
coming
in
warning and backed through the curtain.

“Okay. So, looks like we’ve got a case of road… rash…” She trailed off as she glanced
over her shoulder and saw a pissed off Jeremy slouched in the chair next to the exam
table. He was in cammies still, his black helmet sitting on the exam table.

“Hey.” He nodded as if she were just sliding into the booth across from him in a restaurant.

“Jeremy.” She looked at the chart in her hand to double-check. Sure enough, Jeremy
Phillips.

I
have
got
to
start
reading
the
names
on
the
charts
before
introducing
myself
to
patients.

Smoothing her flyaway hair back behind her ear, she smiled. “Hi. Are you my rash?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

Shit. She just called him a freaking rash. “I mean road rash. Are you… do you…” She
turned around and gripped the cart, breathing in and out before facing him again.
And in a calm voice, she managed to say, “It says here you laid down your bike, took
some skin off.”
Wow, that sounded almost intelligent, Madison. Nice work.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he managed to hold it together. “Yeah. Some
jackass pulled out in front of me and I didn’t have enough time to slow down. Went
sliding.” He patted one hand on his helmet. “Glad my bike’s still in running shape.
Though it’s gonna need a little TLC after that.”

His bike? His freaking bike? That’s what he was so worried about? Her heart nearly
stopped at the image of Jeremy and his motorcycle sliding across asphalt, her throat
closing at the thought of him not skidding to a halt in time…

“Hey.” Jeremy was up and grabbing her elbow. “You just went white as a sheet. Sit
down.” With a hand that left no chance to argue, he pushed her down into the chair
he’d vacated. Then, squatting down on his haunches, he grimaced a little, then grabbed
her hand and chafed.

“I feel like my nurse needs a nurse. What’s up? Low blood sugar?”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice quite yet.

“Do I need to call someone?” His soulful brown eyes were trying to read her. She felt
it as clearly as if he turned the page of a book. Only the pages were in her heart.

“No,” she managed to get out. “I’m fine. Just been a long shift.” Injecting some much-needed
steel into her backbone, she stood up, Jeremy standing alongside her with another
grimace. “Are you sore?”

“A little. I’ll feel it tomorrow for sure.”

“Take the day off from work; use heat on the sore areas. And don’t lie around. Walk,
as long as it’s just sore and not painful. Keep the muscles limber.” She went back
to her cart and started organizing her supplies. “Were you wearing your leather jacket?”

“Yup.”

“Good. That probably saved you the worst of it.” She motioned to his blouse before
turning around to start setting up her supplies. “Go ahead and expose the area so
I can get a good look at it.”

As she opened some gauze packets, she heard the rustle of clothing from behind.

“I had lunch with Veronica the other day,” she said, mostly to fill the silence without
turning around. Silence always freaked her out just a little, though she had no clue
why.

“She’s an odd one.”

“That’s not very nice,” she chided gently. “New place, new people, naturally shy personality.
Just give her some more time to get used to things before you make judgments, please?”

A pause, then he gave a gruff, “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

She tugged at her ear. “I might need to see the hearing specialist. I thought I just
heard you apologize, but that can’t be right.”

“Can it.”

She held up a syringe packet over her shoulder. “Be nice, or I’ll give you a shot
just because I can.” Turning, she braced herself to fight her body’s reaction to his
bare torso, wondering how bad the abrasions were. Did they cover his back? Arms? Chest?

Instead, she saw his olive green undershirt was still on, the short sleeves tight
against his biceps. But his pants… that was another story.

Letting her eyes roam down from his still-covered torso to his shredded red plaid
boxers, she couldn’t stop looking at his muscular thighs, dusted with dark hair and
flexed, she assumed, against the pain. Now those were thighs she wouldn’t mind straddling.
Then she drifted down to his cammie bottoms, now pooled down around his boots, and
let her eyes roam back up again to his face. He gave her a wry smile and a shrug.

Oh, Jesus.

“It had to be your ass, didn’t it?”

***

Jeremy bit back a laugh when Madison gasped and covered her mouth with one hand, as
if she couldn’t believe that flew out of her mouth.

He could easily believe it, though. Madison was always one to say something first,
think about it later. Her bold honesty caught him off guard sometimes, but he liked
that about her. She said what she meant and didn’t try to hide it behind polite, worthless
conversation.

He did his best to make light of it so she didn’t freak out and leave him with another
nurse he didn’t know. “Sorry. I know it’s a pain in the ass…”

She groaned, then her lips quirked in a reluctant smile, just like he planned.

Jeremy shrugged. “If I could reach it myself, I would have just gone home. But—”

“Thank God you didn’t. There’s no way you could have cleaned this yourself.” All business
now, Madison finished arranging the tools of her trade on the little silver cart she’d
wheeled in. Then turning a professional eye to the many places his boxers were torn,
she glanced at the table before shaking her head. “It’ll be easier if you stand, I
think. But if you get lightheaded, let me know and we can change things up.”

“Lightheaded? From a scratch?” Did she have to make it sound so pathetic?

“It’s not a scratch, it’s road rash. And it’s not going to be fun when I’m cleaning
the dirt and grit out of there. God only knows what’s stuck in your skin right now.”

“Thanks, Nurse Ratchet. Could you try not to sound so happy about the idea?”

She grinned then cracked her knuckles, covered with purple latex gloves. “This might
be fun, actually.”

He bit back a groan. Talk about payback. He knew she was pissed about his decision
to keep their friendship where it was. Not to act on the attraction they each felt.
But he couldn’t go there. It wasn’t right. And if that pissed her off… it couldn’t
be helped.

Only now she had the perfect revenge in the palm of her hand. Did he actually want
Madison scrubbing dirt from his abrasion?

Thoughts of some random male corpsman getting anywhere near his ass with a syringe
made him shudder in horror.

Okay, yeah. Lesser of two evils here.

She squatted down on her haunches, using feather-light touches with her fingertips
to scoot the fabric of his boxers—thank God he was wearing them today, rather than
the more embarrassing option of a pair of old briefs—over to inspect the area. From
his hip down the side of his thigh to his knee was a raw mess. His right shoulder
and arm had been protected by the thick leather of his jacket. But his uniform pants
had provided very little protection from the road. Which just taught him a fantastic
lesson about remembering to change back into his jeans before heading home.

“I hate to say it,” she said in a voice that told him she was anything but remorseful,
“but you’ll have to take these off. It’s likely there are some fabric bits in there
I need to get to. And they’re in my way.”

He sighed, then glared down at her when she made a squeak that sounded mysteriously
like she swallowed a laugh. “This really isn’t funny, you know.”

“Actually…” She snorted. “It’s pretty damn hilarious.”

Rather than argue over the merits of how amusing his situation was, he simply hooked
his thumbs in his boxers and pushed them down, hissing a little as some fabric peeled
away from the injury.

And then she wasn’t laughing anymore. Belatedly, he realized that he’d just bared
his ass, literally, to the one woman who he never meant to get naked with. The same
woman he dreamed about rolling around in bed with for days. Hell of a conundrum there.
The fact that there was a constant hum of activity right outside their curtain did
nothing to alleviate the intense intimacy of the moment. Almost as if they were cocooned
inside their own little box, and nobody was going to intrude.

And she was on her knees, eye level with his barely covered junk. For the love of
Christ.

He kept his back rigid and put his hands at his sides. If there was a God, He would
prevent her from noticing he was fighting an erection.

“Just hurry up,” he growled, hating how sharp his tone had to be. But now wasn’t the
time to fuck around.

Fuck around. Bad choice of words. Impossible-to-erase mental image.

Madison, scooting herself around. Lifting his shirt up. Wrapping small, delicate hands
around his cock while she smiled that mysterious,
I’m thinking of a delicious secret
smile of hers just before she—

“Holy Jesus!” He jerked forward and out of her reach, his delicious daydream plowed
to smithereens by the burning, scraping sensation over the sensitive, raw flesh. “God,
Mad. What the fuck?”

She just smiled serenely—which was not nearly as hot as her delicious secret smile—and
held up a pad of gauze. “I’m trying to clean the area. And the more I think about
it, this would be easier if you get up on the table. It’s not as easy to reach as
I thought it would be.”

He stared at the table, then back to her. “Could you…” He circled his finger.

She rolled her eyes but stood and gave him her back.

Jeremy hopped on the table, lying down on his stomach to hide his serious boner. Damn,
that hurt. He didn’t have any false modesty, and nudity didn’t bother him. But letting
Mad know he was rock hard even despite the pain wasn’t in either of their best interests.

And there he went again, thinking things he really shouldn’t be thinking.

Tim’s baby sister. Tim’s baby sister. Tim’s baby sister.

That helped. Watching her gather more gauze and slip into her professional mode helped
a little more. But when she stepped behind him and began gently scraping with the
gauze pad, lust took a backseat in his mind to fighting against the pain. It took
every ounce of concentration not to squeal like a little girl when she grazed over
the raw skin, removing the dirt and grit collected from his meet-and-greet with the
asphalt.

“Sorry,” she said, voice quiet. Very un-Madison like. “Do you want a local to numb
the area? It might be best.”

“No,” he said, teeth gritted.

“This is never fun. I’m trying to be quick without rushing.”

“I know.” He hissed in another breath, then let it out slowly. As she poured some
liquid with a fat syringe over the area, he felt a moment of cool relief—like rubbing
aloe from the fridge over a sunburn—before she went back at it.

And although he knew he shouldn’t, he watched her work over his shoulder.

Madison’s nose scrunched a little, her tongue planted between her lips, as if she
were in total concentration, in some nursing zone where only she and her task existed.
Her right hand was firm but not harsh as it wiped and worked to clean the abrasion.
Her left rested right above the abrasion, which happened to be over the curve of his
ass, ready with the syringe. Warm, soft, totally inviting. All she had to do was slide
that hand a few inches lower, over his hip and…

And nothing. Because he couldn’t go there. Despite his previous slips, getting involved
with his best friend’s sister was a line, an invisible boundary that guys didn’t cross.
It seemed beyond wrong. Like he couldn’t go out and get his own girl, so he picked
from the most easily accessible pool.

Easy. A word that would never apply to Madison O’Shay. Being with Mad would be like
trying to hold on for dear life while you were being tossed around the eye of a hurricane.
The guy that finally managed to nail her down for keeps had his work cut out for him.

And annoyingly, the thought of some other guy winning Madison over made his back teeth
ache with frustration.

“You need to relax a little more.”

“Huh?” He glanced at her face again.

She blew out a breath, stirring the few hairs that escaped her regulation bun. “Your
body, you’re all tense.” As if to prove a point, she reached for his hand and curled
her fingers around his tight fist, squeezing. “If it hurts too much, I’ll just go
get that local now. It won’t take me more than a minute.”