The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (10 page)

“I have to side with your grandma there.”

She grinned, cocking her head to the side
as she looked at him, as though a realization was forming in her head. “Gram
would have liked you. And not just because your mother’s Irish as Paddy’s pig. Though
that would have earned you major points with her.” Her eyes locked with his, and
she stared silently at him a little longer than was usual. Leaning back
suddenly, she swayed slightly in her chair.

“Are you okay?” Jack touched her arm.

“I’m okay. Just felt a little dizzy
there.”

“Want to go home? We can forget the
pizzas if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” She gave herself a
little shake, as though to wake herself up. “Must be this cheap wine they serve
here. Tastes like it came from a box.”

“It probably did. Here.” He loaded her
small appetizer plate with calamari, bruschetta, and Carpaccio. “You don’t eat
enough. My mother would tell me I should fatten you up.”

“I like the sound of your mother.”

“You’ll meet her at the awards ceremony. The
whole family is coming down for it.”

“Bet you can’t wait.”

“To see them? Always. But to stand in
front of the brigade while they make a big show out of something I’d rather
forget? Not excited at all about that.”

“Mick says you can’t talk about the
mission.”

Jack nodded. “Not much.”

“But you risked your life to save
others?”

“Mick tell you that?”

She shook her head. “Just guessed that
part. They don’t give you awards for serving ice cream.”

Jack shrugged.

Maeve swallowed. “Will this next job be
something similar?”

“Sure as hell hope not. It’s never a good
thing when SEALs need someone with nuke expertise. Thought I’d be going back to
my boring job on a sub after this.”

“Something tells me that being on a sub
armed with nuclear warheads is the furthest thing from boring.”

“You’d be wrong then.” He lifted a bruschetta
to his mouth, and noticed her wine glass was nearly empty. “Want another glass?

“No. One’s enough for me. And stop
putting things on my plate. I have a bridesmaid dress I have to fit into.”

“We’re not supposed to talk about the
wedding, remember?”

“Sorry. It slipped out.” She turned her
chair toward the view, moving it closer to Jack. He wondered if the closeness
was accidental, or whether she too felt the pull to be closer to him just like
he felt it for her.

The sloshing of the waves against the shoreline
was rhythmic, almost sexual. Snap out of it,
he told himself. As the sun
lowered in the sky, he longed to be able to take her home to his place, rather than
spending the night staining an arbor.

“Beautiful evening,” she said, her
shoulder lightly touching his arm as she scooted her chair again, gazing out to
the water. The sun cast a golden glow on the boats in the water and the clang
of the halyards on the sailboats as the wind passed was hypnotic.

When were those damn pizzas going to be
ready? Maeve was sitting so close to him he could smell the vanilla lotion she
always rubbed into her soft hands, and the scent of her shampoo—or
whatever it was she put in her hair to make it look so perfect.

Finishing her glass of wine, a contented
grin crept up her face. “This is the first day I actually feel like I might be
able to do this. Go out on my own, run a business, you know?”

“Good,” his hand gently rubbed her back, strictly
a gesture of support, he convinced himself. It had nothing to do with his need
to touch her in any way she’d allow him.

“And you did that for me.” She turned to
him, so close that he could feel a few strands of her hair brush against his neck
when a breeze passed.

“Me?”

“You set this up, Jack. All of it. You
had Bess put up the website. Came up with the idea for publicity. Arranged for
me to meet my first client. Everything. I’d have taken the first job in retail
if you hadn’t made me so confident I could do this.”

“Wait a minute. You got a job offer?”

Maeve nodded. “Yesterday. Selling furniture
at the mall. Your basic sales position, but they’d
call
me a designer.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yes.” She turned from the view, her face
suddenly too close to his.

 “That’s my girl!” Impulsively, he
kissed her briefly on the lips, a kiss between friends that unwittingly sent a
shock of heat to his groin. Big mistake.
Gentlemen, start your engines.

He pulled back, a smile frozen on his
face that he hoped masked his sudden urge to cement his body against hers. “You
did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes were still locked on his and her
smile slowly faded. He wondered for a moment if she was feeling another wave of
dizziness till she raised both her hands to his cheeks and leaned in to him.

It was barely even a kiss at first, a
tentative grazing of her lips against his. The moment was in slow motion for
Jack, something he had imagined for so long that his brain slowed each
millisecond down so that he could savor it. Then his breath caught as suddenly
her mouth urged him on.

Her hands traced along his face down to
his neck, her touch sending his heart into sixth gear. Not stopping to think,
his hands found the nape of her neck, and moved slowly, cradling her face as
though she were a precious, fragile crystal. Her tongue touched his, the tang
of cheap wine mixed with the sweet, salty taste that was unique to Maeve. Her palms
were so soft, still stroking his face, pulling him closer, urging him to not
stop. The feel of her hands—so supple—kneading into his hair
brought a wave of memories of her hands on other places on his body.

Finally.

He’d die for this woman. He’d give his
last breath to have her beneath him right now. Damn the pizzas and the arbor. He’d
lift her out of her chair and carry her two miles to his home right now if
she’d let him.

A fire surged inside him, toasting his
body like a hot kiln, making him desperate to be alone with her. His hands
travelled to her waist as he explored her with his mouth, pulling her closer,
tighter, fighting the urge to pull her onto his lap. His lips still melded with
hers, he leaned in, his hand at her back as he pulled her body closer to his. His
body responded to the feel of her breasts pressing up against him, until she
suddenly pulled back so quickly she nearly fell off her chair.

Her one hand covered her lips and her
other she held against her chest. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Jack.”

Sorry?
She was sorry? “Don’t say that, Maeve.” His hands were
still in her hair. God, her hair. He had forgotten how soft it was to hold. Had
it really been eight years since he had enjoyed the feeling of those soft
strands caressing his fingers?

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

He dropped his hands. “Christ. Tell me
you’re joking, Maeve. It was good. We’re good. We’re good together.”

“We can’t be together that way.” Maeve
looked away.

He wouldn’t let her drop it. Not this
time. “Give me one reason.”

Her eyes filled with tears and it tore at
his soul.

“It’s just… it just won’t work, Jack. I
don’t want to start something with you that would only end badly.”

“You’re killing a relationship before it
even started then.”

“But I could never make you happy. We
want different things. And then we’d end up breaking up—and then I’d lose
you.”

He took her face in his hands. “You’re
not going to lose me. Just give us a chance.”

“Please. Please, can we just stay
friends?”

Bewildered, Jack barely acknowledged boxes
of take-out that were plopped in front of them by the waitress with a bill on
top. He just stared at Maeve. “Friends are honest with each other, Maeve. And
if you can’t tell me what’s really holding you back, then I can’t say that
we’re really friends, can I?”

Maeve’s eyes dropped. “I’m sorry.” Her
voice was barely a whisper as she reached for her purse.

He snatched the bill from the top of the
boxes and handed the waitress his credit card.

***

“So. Are you going to tell me what the
hell that was all about?” Barely a second had passed since Bess had shut the
door on Lacey, Mick, and Jack. She glared at Maeve.

“What do you mean?” Maeve tried to sound
innocent, even though she knew she couldn’t fool Bess. She could have cut the
tension in her house that night with a knife, and considered herself lucky that
Lacey had gone home with Mick, or she’d have two people interrogating her right
now.

“You and Jack barely said a word to each
other all night. You barely looked at each other, for that matter. Did you two
have an argument or something?”

Maeve stalked into the kitchen as Bess
followed. “Or something.” Glancing down at the wood stain that had dyed her
fingertips, she started to scrub them again. Having a flashback to her freshman
English class, she felt a little like Lady Macbeth with blood on her hands,
trying to wash it away—hoping it would erase her mistake this past
evening.

Out, out, damn spot!

“Spill it, Maeve.”

Maeve scrunched a dishtowel in her hands
and hung it on the refrigerator. “I kissed Jack.”

A smile exploded on Bess’s face. “About
time. So that’s good, right? I mean, why did you guys not even speak to each
other tonight?”

“Because I shouldn’t have. He just looked
so damn cute sitting there at the restaurant while we waited for the pizza. And
he’s so great—been so supportive of me trying to start a business and
all. It was appreciation. That’s what it was.”

“Appreciation? Bullshit.” Her voice was
low to not wake Abigail or let her hear her mother’s more colorful language.

“And attraction. I’ll admit that. God,
the man kisses like he invented the act.” Her eyes drifted, lost in the memory.
“So anyway, there we were, waiting for the pizzas, enjoying this romantic view.
And all of a sudden I just plaster myself against him. I attacked him really. I
don’t know what got into me. Cheap wine, probably.”

“And then? I’m waiting to hear when this
all turned into a bad thing.”

“Then he pulls me closer. You know, right
up against him. And I suddenly feel my rock-hard implants encased in years of
scar tissue, pressing against his chest. Damn things are like baseballs. I’d be
surprised if he didn’t notice.” Her face was sullen as she sank into the sofa.
“I jumped back. It’s like I just suddenly remembered that I wasn’t the Maeve he
knew eight years ago.” She buried her face in her hands. “He must have thought
I was nuts.”

“Oh, Maeve. Who the hell cares about your
damn implants. Half the women of America have them, for God’s sake. Or at least
half the ones who can fill out a bikini do.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have all the
baggage that goes with them. Cancer. Bad eggs. No kids. I just don’t want to have
the Big Talk with him, you know? That would ruin everything.”

“You’re a cock tease.”

“I am not,” Maeve denied.

“Well, you’re the closest thing. Hell,
even I’m mad at you. You guys are supposed to be together. Everyone who gets
within a five-mile radius of you two can feel it.”

“I had my chance with Jack.”

“And you got a second chance. It’s a
freaking miracle, Maeve. Think about it. You fell hard for him eight years ago.
Admit it.”

“Who wouldn’t? But he wasn’t ready for a
serious relationship back then. And that’s what I was looking for.”

“And then you end up inheriting a house
here in Annapolis, and moving in with the woman who was destined to be Jack’s
best friend’s fiancée. What are the chances?”

“Slim to none,” Maeve admitted.

“It’s destiny.”

Maeve rolled her eyes as she settled into
the plush back cushions of the sofa. “Gram used to say that destiny sometimes
needs a push.”

“So, give it a push.”

“Last time I gave destiny a push I found
myself married to an idiot, in a dead-end job, and rebuilding my life after
cancer as a divorcée. Think I’ll take logic and free will over destiny any
day.”

“You are meant to be together.” She sat
across from Maeve, eyes locked on her.

“Jack is meant to be with someone who can
give him kids. And I love him too much to see him give up his dream on a chewed-up
cancer survivor who still worries what the next day will bring.”

“That’s the first time I heard you admit
it.”

“What? That I’m chewed-up?”

“That you love him.”

“Of course I do. I’m not stupid. We might
have a good month or two together, but we’d only end up breaking up in the end.
I can’t live my life thinking that he compromised just so that he could be with
me.”