The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (6 page)

“But don’t you need to talk about things
like that? I mean, there are support groups for cancer.”

“I guess that works for some people, but
it just didn’t for me. I went for a couple months and all the women were so
much older than me. They all had husbands who had been with them for
years—the kind of relationships that can survive something like cancer. And
I had… Dickhead.” Maeve preferred to not use her ex-husband’s name whenever
possible. After ditching Maeve after the cancer, he didn’t deserve a proper name.

Maeve sighed. “When I moved to Annapolis,
I realized it was the perfect chance to escape it all—leave Baltimore and
be around people who didn’t know about it. I didn’t want people feeling sorry
for me.”

“Is that why you aren’t with Jack?”

“What do you mean, ‘with Jack’?”

“Come on. We all know there’s chemistry
there. And this is coming from someone who got a D in Chemistry. You know, a
guy like Jack would be nothing but supportive to you for all you’ve been
through.”

“I know. But it couldn’t go anywhere.”

“Why not?” A thought occurring to her,
she leaned back in her chair. “Oh—hell. It’s because you can’t have kids.
And Jack wants kids.”

“Yeah.”

“You could adopt.”

Maeve rolled her eyes. “You know, it’s
always a certainty that someone will bring up adoption within five minutes of
meeting someone who can’t have kids. It’s like it’s supposed to be some kind of
replacement.”

“You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t love
an adopted child just as much as you’d love a biological child. I’ve seen how
much you love Abigail, and she’s not yours.”

“That’s true. And maybe I will one day
when I’ve got a few more years of being cancer-free under my belt. But Jack was
bred to breed. And with his brains and bod, it would practically be a sin not
to expand his genetic pool.” She forced a laugh. “He wants to have his own
kids. And I’m not going to live my life feeling guilty that I couldn’t give him
what he always wanted. Besides, he’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Bullshit.”

Maeve tossed back her head in exasperation.
“Yeah, he’s freaking perfect, isn’t he? I’m actually counting down the days till
he leaves. I love spending time with him. But it’s kind of hard being his
friend.”

“I can imagine.”

“In fact, you owe me big-time for
sticking me with him alone yesterday. Would you mind going to the printer with
him Thursday night? We were going to make out the wedding programs, but I could
kind of use an evening off from him, you know?”

“Sure,” Bess offered amicably, gazing
back out to the water thoughtfully.

I think I have a migraine scheduled that
day
.

***

 Hell of a way to spend a Saturday
morning.

Locked in an armbar, squirming on the
combatives mat, a steady trickle of sweat from Jack’s brow dripped into his
eye. Futilely, he pulled at Mick’s legs to try to spring free until finally
unable to take more, he tapped out.

Mick set him free.

Cursing, Jack wiped his brow. “How the
hell did I let that happen?”

“You posted your arm on the mat while I
had you in the guard. Look, you’ve got me beat in the ring. When we’re boxing,
you’ll win every time. And your kicks have promise. But if I get you on the
ground, you’re toast.”

“Fights end up on the ground.”

“Which is why we’re working on it.” Mick
reached for his duffel and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. “Had enough?”

“For today.”

“We’ll work more on the ground next week.
That’s where you need it.” He sat on a bench off to the side of the ring. “You
know, you don’t have to keep up with the SEALs. They want you for your brain.”

“Yeah, but if I didn’t know how to take
someone down in hand-to-hand combat, that Baltic mission wouldn’t have had a
happy ending.”

“True. I’m just saying don’t put too much
pressure on yourself.”

 “You’re one to talk.” Jack rose, refilling
his camelback and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Not hitting the showers?”

“No. I’ll take a run home.”

“Don’t overdo it. You’ll be no use to
anyone if you’re dead. Sit. Hydrate.” It was more of an order than a
suggestion. His tone suggested he was pulling rank, but Jack knew it was
intended more as a pseudo-big-brother than superior officer. “Same time next
week?”

“Afternoon would work better. Maeve and I
are headed to the Eastern Shore to get some stuff for the wedding. She says she
needs my truck. Won’t fit in her BMW.”

“Likely excuse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she just wants to spend more
time with you. Lacey said she’s pretty broken up about you leaving.”

“I haven’t noticed that.”

“Jack, no offense, but you notice nothing
less than a nuclear explosion.” He swiped a towel across his chest and stood.
“And considering your line of work, that’s a good thing.”

“If anything, I think she’s anxious for
me to go.”

Mick swung open the door to the locker
room. “You’ve got four sisters. You should be able to figure her out.”

“This one’s beyond me.” Jack followed him.
“Has Lacey mentioned anything?”

“Hell no. If Maeve confided something,
she’d never tell me. The bonds of friendship are stronger than the bonds
between future spouses, apparently. Better figure it out fast though, because
she’s got a date with Captain Shey next week.”

Jack’s eyes flew to Mick’s. “Son of a
bitch.”

Mick glanced around the locker room. “Better
watch that talk about a Captain, Jack.”

“What the fuck is he dating Maeve for?”

Cocking his head, Mick raised his
eyebrows. “I think you’re old enough to figure that out for yourself.”

“This doesn’t bother you? He’s your
Commanding Officer, for God’s sake.”

“
Was
my Commanding Officer. And he’s
a fifteen-year friend of your new CO in a matter of weeks. So better watch your
mouth.” Tossing a towel over his shoulders, he started toward the shower. “It’s
her choice, so don’t get stupid about it. It’s not like you haven’t been in
relationships while you’ve been stationed here. I never heard her gripe about
it.”

Mick was right. Maeve hadn’t shown the
slightest jealousy when Lissa’s name started coming up regularly in
conversations. Or when Lissa was replaced by Krystal. And it bugged the crap
out of Jack that she hadn’t.

“If you want something with Maeve, it’s
time to shit or get off the pot,” Mick grinned, “as my dear departed
grandfather used to say. See ya tomorrow.” He disappeared behind the shower
curtain.

Jack grumbled his goodbye as he headed
out of the gym. He couldn’t help the pout that was plastered on his face as he
started his run toward the Navy bridge. He ran faster than his usual pace
hoping to pound out the jealousy and leave it mashed into the concrete beneath
him.

It was a great dream.

She had it often enough this past year
that her body should have stopped reacting with a low, sizzling thrum, as
though she had just had the best sex imaginable. Yet his image was so clear, so
vivid that she’d swear right now she could smell his aftershave mixed with the aromatic
steam from a cup of freshly brewed coffee tickling the bottom of her nose.

Coffee?
Maeve’s eyes flew open to the sight of Jack at her bedside,
holding a cup of joe under her nose.

“Jack!” Instinctively, she gave him a
shove, sending a splash from the mug flying across her duvet and onto him. “What
the hell are you doing in here?”

“Hey—that’s hot, Maeve.” Jack
ripped off his soaked t-shirt, sending Maeve’s temperature up ten degrees.

The coffee’s not the only thing hot in this
room.
Maeve tried to
pull her eyes from his chiseled six-
no
-eight-pack, but failed miserably.
Even in the low light that seeped into the bedroom from the hallway, his abs
blazed a magnificent path across his abdomen that seemed to scream, “Touch me,
and see if I’m for real!”

Even the simple act of wadding up his
shirt to sop up the coffee from her duvet made his forearm muscles bulge in a subtle
way that made Maeve’s temperature soar. He looked at her. “Is this always how
you greet men who bring you breakfast in bed?”

Maeve glanced around. “I don’t see any
breakfast.”

“I brought you coffee. Assumed with that
body, you were the skip-breakfast kind of girl.” The edges of his mouth crept
into a half-smile.

“Shows what you know. And speaking of my
body, what are you doing in my room with me half-naked?”

“What’s a little skin between friends?”
he chided, toying with the sheet she held firmly to her chest.

Sighing, Maeve reached for the lamp. “Seriously,
Jack. What are you doing here?”

His face was dead-panned. “You really
forgot? We’re headed to the Eastern Shore today.”

Maeve felt her body sink back into the
bed in protest. Why had she agreed to leave so early in the morning just to
miss weekend traffic? In the low light she gazed at Jack, who looked as awake
at five a.m. as he did at high noon. He had probably already gone for a
six-mile run and had breakfast by now. “Okay, okay. I’ll be downstairs in two
minutes. Now, get out.” She tossed a pillow at him as he backed out of the
room. “And I could use another cup of coffee.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“
Now
.”

Jack grinned and slinked out the door.

Hearing the door click shut, Maeve
dropped her sheet from her chest. Too close. It’s bad enough to be having sex
dreams about a friend, but much worse if he wakes her up in the middle of it.

She hadn’t thought planning a wedding
with Jack would be this difficult. Jack had always been underfoot these past
months. On her back porch playing Scrabble. Grilling steaks in her backyard. Hell,
he even knew what day was trash day and never failed to take the cans to the
curb without even being asked.

Spending a little extra time with him
shouldn’t have this effect on her.

But alone, Jack was different. Jack was
tempting. Every time he touched her, she wanted more. Every time he looked at
her, she was entranced. And every time he left, she felt an emptiness that was
new to her. She’d just have to resist. He was leaving in four weeks anyway. Surely
she could manage that.

But if he took off his shirt again, all
bets were off.

Slipping on yoga pants and a t-shirt, she
restrained herself from putting on makeup. Being from the South, it should seem
a sin, but she’d lived with Yankees long enough not to care.

The stairs creaked beneath her feet, and
Maeve cringed, hoping she would not wake the baby. She glanced over to Abby’s
room and saw Jack peering in, still as a statue, a travel mug of coffee in his
hand. Hearing her approach, he passed her the mug and whispered, “She’s so cute
when she’s sleeping.”

Maeve warmed, as she always did when
looking at her goddaughter. But from her mouth came steely words. “Yeah, but
then she wakes up. Crying, usually. If you wake her, we’ll be hitting traffic,”
Maeve warned.

“Worth the risk.” He reached in and
cradled her in his strong arms, the perfect contrast of virile strength against
complete vulnerability. “I haven’t seen her all week. She’s at least an inch
bigger.”

Maeve softened as she watched him with her.
His exterior was so rugged and tough. Not the least bit of softness in his hard
muscular flesh. But inside, he was soft. “A hard-boiled marshmallow,” just like
Maeve’s grandmother used to call her. Gazing at him in the low light, Maeve
felt a tug on her heart.

“Come on, Jack.” Her harsh whisper broke
the sweetness of the moment. “Let’s go.”

“You’re right.” He gently placed Abigail
back into her crib. “I just can’t help myself with that kid.”

Stepping out into the chill, Jack walked
briskly ahead, and opened the truck’s door for her. His mouth edged upward.

“What?” she asked warily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without
makeup in the daylight.”

“Technically, it’s not really daylight
yet.” She touched her face unconsciously. “That bad?”

“Actually you look better this way.”

Maeve snorted.

He started the truck. “So, what’s on the
agenda today?

“We’ll head to the outlets first. Mostly
for table dressing stuff. For the centerpieces, I’m thinking candles in
hurricanes if I can find some. Then I’ll take rose petals and sprinkle them
around the hurricanes for a little extra color. The space is just too small for
anything more dramatic on the tables. And there will be plenty of flowers
elsewhere.”

She popped the lid on her travel mug and
took a sip. “Mmm. Perfect. How did you remember I put brown sugar in my
coffee?”

At a stoplight now, he turned to her. “I
remember everything.” The words seemed filled with meaning as his shamrock
green eyes seemed to peer straight into her soul. But when the light changed,
the moment shattered and Maeve wondered if she had even imagined the
connection. “So why did you need my truck for this?”

“I also found a place that has an arbor.”

“For rent?”

“Umm. No. To buy. But it’s gorgeous,
Jack. And I’ve always wanted an arbor for right in front of the dock.”

“Always, huh? Never mentioned it to me.”

“Well, I have. It’ll be my last big
splurge for my house before I go on my unemployed budget. It’s not that
expensive. We just have to put it together and stain it.”

Jack shot her a look. “Put it together?”

“Yeah. All the pieces are cut and sanded.
It’s made by some carpenter in Easton. It comes with plans. The guy says it’s
easier than putting together an IKEA desk.”

“With everything else we have to do? No
wonder you wouldn’t tell me what we were getting today.”

“It’ll be a breeze. We’ll do it some Thursday
night when it’s not raining instead of wasting time playing Scrabble.”

“You’re just doing this because I’m
finally starting to beat you.”

“Dream on.” She took a sip of her coffee.
“I’m thinking a natural stain—like a warm honey tone. Something that will
last. Maybe their kids will get married under it one day.”

“You’re a romantic. Who’d have thought a
girl like you has a romantic side?”

“A girl like me?”

Jack pitched his voice up an octave,
doing his best Maeve imitation. “‘Men are like pets. Sure, they’re cute and fun
to play with, but cleaning up after them gets old quick.’”

 “Did I really say that?” Maeve
smiled, impressed with herself. “That’s good enough for the inside of a fortune
cookie.”

Jack laughed. “Okay. I’ll haul myself out
there to get it on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You let me buy it. You shouldn’t be
splurging on anything right now.”

“I’m not letting you buy me something
like that.”

Jack flicked on his turn signal as though
headed for the next exit. “Guess we’re not going then.”

“Okay, okay,” Maeve quickly said. “That’s
practically blackmail.”

“A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do.
Besides, I spend enough time at your house. I’d like to think I got you
something to remember me by when I’m gone.”

Maeve stomach clenched. “I don’t like
thinking of that.”

“So let’s not.”

Maeve’s mind wandered, still 200 miles
away in a place she’d never been before. Little Creek. What would his life be
like there? She glanced out the window to the passing car dealers that pocked
this stretch of Highway 50. “Okay, you can buy it. But I’m paying you back as
soon as I get a job.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it, Jack,” she said firmly.

“I know you mean it.”

Maeve tensed as Jack slowed past the toll
that led to the bridge. “Did you find a place to rent tables?”

“Yeah, that was easy. I talked to some staff
at the Officer’s Club and they found me a place that will rent us tables,
chairs—even plates and silverware. I had no idea you could rent that
stuff. I found a company that can bartend, too.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” As they drove over
the massive span of the Bay Bridge, Maeve held her breath as she peered over
the side. Gripping the armrest tightly, she hoped Jack didn’t notice the whites
of her knuckles. In the low morning light, she could see a few boats sprinkled
in the water, so tiny beneath them. She hated this bridge. Even after driving
over it dozens of times, she still felt the sharp tug of vertigo pulling her
eyes to the water below, awaiting a brisk wind that could send them soaring
over the side and crashing into the Bay.

“Don’t like bridges?”

Damn. The man noticed everything. It
always made her feel exposed in his presence. “Just the big ones.”

He touched her leg gently. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s nice, Jack. But both hands on the
steering wheel, please. You’re freaking me out here.”

Going to the Eastern Shore was something
one did for a weekend getaway, or to begin the ritualistic Friday migration to
Ocean City in the summer that regularly trapped Annapolitans like herself in a
clog of traffic.

But now with the Bay Bridge behind her,
the drive felt different for Maeve—spontaneous and somehow freeing. The
sky was bigger out here, the air fresher, and the water wider.

“How about we catch breakfast?” Jack
asked. “I’m not worried about traffic now that we’ve got the bridge behind us. And
we’ve got some time to kill before the stores open.”

Breakfast was innocent enough. Surely she
could get through an omelet without picturing him naked. “Okay.”

Exiting the highway, Jack stole a quick
glance at Maeve. “You okay?”

Maeve didn’t dare look into his eyes. She
wondered how he could always sense her feelings. It unnerved her, at the same
time it comforted her. At the same time it turned her temperature up to broil. “I’m
fine.”

“No, you’re not. What is it? You seem
really—distracted.” He paused as he pulled into the parking lot of a
nondescript diner and turned off the truck.

“Distracted? I’m not distracted.”

Maeve tensed, when his hand gently
touched her chin, guiding her eyes to meet his. She could swear he was
suppressing a smile, as though he knew what his light touch did to her and only
meant to antagonize her.

“You’re hiding something. I know you too
well, Maeve.”

“Hiding something? I am not. I’m an open
book.”

“Ha. Far from it.”

“Why? What do you think I’m hiding?”

His eyes full of challenge, he unfastened
his seat belt. “This.” He leaned toward her so close she could smell the cherry
Gatorade on his breath and feel the warmth emanating from behind his crisp polo
shirt. He brushed her cheek gently and she froze, speechless, breath
quickening. His hand entwined in her hair, and, finding the nape of her neck,
he pulled her face closer—so close she could see tiny blue flecks in the sea
of green within his eyes. Helpless, she caught herself wetting her lips
instinctively, waiting to feel his mouth against hers.

He was going to kiss her. Finally. And
she’d let him. Gladly.

“This—” His eyes wandered across
her face, taking in every feature, fingers lightly tracing a path from her
forehead to her cheeks, her chin, and then resting his finger on her moist
lips. “—is what you’re hiding. You want to kiss me. Don’t deny it.”

He paused, and she could only manage a
whimper in reply.

“So what’s holding you back, Maeve?” Abruptly,
he pulled away from her, leaving every cell in her body to ache. “That’s what
you’re hiding.”

Having made his point, his eyes were
smug, and he unlocked the doors.