The SEAL's Second Chance Baby (12 page)

Considering that line of thought was a tad heavy for a casual dinner between friends, Marsh kept the banter light for the rest of the meal. He shared stories of how Remington had beaten them all in go-kart racing, and then how Wallace had run over his best cowboy hat.

Marsh talked about all the things that would steer him from real issues like did Effie ever feel she'd die from being lonely even when she was in a crowded room? Or did she ever wonder if her heart would feel full again? Men weren't supposed to dwell on their feelings, so why couldn't Marsh tamp all of them down enough that he could at least feel normal instead of like a shell of his former self?

They finished eating by seven, so he suggested a walk along the Fountain Creek trail.

The night was perfect. The temperature was just chilly enough to provide relief from the summer's relentless heat, but not yet cold enough for hats and coats.

Marsh knew he shouldn't, but when his every gut instinct screamed for him to take Effie's hand, he did. And suddenly the air smelled sweeter, the river's gurgle sounded like a song and nothing else mattered but absorbing every last shred of peace from the moment—enough to see him through his next dark patch and maybe even beyond.

“I have an odd question for you,” Effie said.

“Shoot.”

“Well...” She drew him onto a park bench. With both of his hands clasped in hers, she asked, “Is this a date? Or hanging out between friends?”

“Does it matter?” Stupid question. Of course it mattered. But when it came to their individual situations, would a romantic date or friendship change their struggles?

“I suppose not. But I'm just going to come right out and admit that all through dinner, I wanted to kiss you—and that's wrong, right? Because neither one of us has any business getting mixed up in a messy relationship when—”

He tilted closer, framing her face with his big hands. For the longest time, he searched her gaze for confirmation that this was what she wanted. Marsh held his breath, hanging in midair, unsure if it was safe to come in for a landing on her mouth that had taunted and teased for weeks.

She licked her lips, and her pupils widened.

Did he go for it?

What if she'd changed her mind and pushed him away?

Screw it. As a SEAL, he used to be all about calculated risks, and when it came to Effie, he needed to once and for all know if she harbored the same physical curiosities about him as he did her.

He leaned in slow, getting used to the feel of her warm exhalations blending with his own.

A low feminine groan escaped her and he was lost.

He brushed his lips against hers, teasing, taunting, needing this first intimate contact to be a baseline test. He hadn't kissed a woman since his ex, and he was pretty sure Effie was in the same boat.

When he felt the vibration of her breathy mew, he threw caution to the night breeze. He slid his fingers under the fall of her long, lush hair, drawing her closer to increase the pressure of his lips against hers. After a back-and-forth volley of nips and moans and exploration, he parted her lips with his tongue, and she met him for an erotic sweep that made him feel in danger of exploding if he didn't have more.

She crawled onto his lap, onto his raging erection. She slid her hand up his shirt, running her palm along his pecs and surprisingly sensitive nipples.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Shh...” He'd started this, but somehow she'd become the aggressor. “Let's find a hotel.”

“Eff...” He pushed her back. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. No. Maybe?” She giggled. “All I do know is that my body is craving way more of you than I'm able to get on this bench. I don't want to think about tomorrow, or even later tonight. All I want is to exist in the here and now, for once. If you're on board, let's grab a bottle of wine and a pack of condoms and find a hotel. No strings attached. No implied commitments. Just a night of feeding mutual urges that once they're no longer between us, will make us both more clearheaded and better able to realistically see we're both just a little
pent up
.”

“Pent up?” He winked, then shifted to make room for his erection. “I was going to say horny, but for the sake of argument, we'll keep it clean.”

She rolled her eyes, grinned, then kissed him again.

They found condoms at a convenience store and made out on the truck seat until the windows fogged. They found wine at a liquor store, made out in a shadowy corner filled with dusty bottles of closeout specials. Then Marsh practically careened the truck beneath a Marriott's portico. “Hang tight. I'll be right back.”

“Hurry.” She blew him a kiss.

In under ten minutes, he was back to the truck—only Effie and his wheels were gone.

Chapter Thirteen

In regard to
the night's wild turn of events, Effie could only plead temporary insanity. If and when she'd even planned on reviving her nonexistent sex life, she sure hadn't imagined it happening in a hotel—even a fairly nice one.

In the shopping center across the street, she spotted a Pier 1, so she slid behind the wheel of Marsh's truck and hijacked it for the brief trip in search of instant ambience.

She found a dozen gorgeous candles and even a fire starter. A few silk throws might be nice to cover lampshades, and spicy potpourri and elaborately beaded and tasseled throw pillows in dusky shades were just the right finishing touches.

The bill totaled more than she spent on a week's groceries, but the more she thought about what she was headed back to the hotel to do, the more nervous she grew—so much so that her hand nearly shook too hard to sign the credit card slip.

Back behind the wheel, she realized she'd left her cell in the truck. Marsh had called thirteen times. Oops. Guess she should have given him a heads-up that she was leaving.

Nerves swirled like a twister through her tummy.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea?

Her cell rang again, but traffic was heavy and for the remainder of the short trip, she focused on driving. And trying to remember what had possessed her to even be in her current situation.

Marsh's wicked-handsome smile flashed through her mind. More flashes of his ass in Wranglers and the way his biceps bulged when carrying a saddle turned her heartbeat chaotic. There was no denying he was a beautiful man. But she was a single mom with no business getting tangled up in a game of bedroom bingo for a couple of hours when she should be home with her kids!

She pulled the powerful vehicle to the hotel's front entry to find Marsh pacing.

He stormed to the passenger side door and yanked it open. “Where the hell have you been? Why didn't you answer your phone? I was worried sick you got carjacked.”

“I'm fine. I needed to pick up a few things, and I guess it took longer than planned.”

“That's fine, but...” He pressed his hand over his heart. “Next time you vanish without a trace, would you mind giving me a heads-up?”

“Sure, but then it wouldn't really be vanishing, would it?” She couldn't help but giggle. His intensity was touching—and sexy.

He whipped off his hat and slapped it against the seat. “Hell's bells, Effie, I was scared for you. It's not funny.”

“I know. And I'm sorry.”

“What did you have to get that was so all-fired important it couldn't have waited till I got the room?”

“Stuff, okay? Climb in, and I'll park.”

Though the lot was full, she was lucky enough to grab a prime spot when a couple in a Jeep Wrangler pulled out. She turned off the lights and engine, unfastened her seat belt and then wasn't sure what to do with her suddenly flighty hands.

“Pier 1?” Marsh inspected the bag on the bench seat between them. “I thought you grabbed a toothbrush or something.” Upon opening the bag, he made a not-entirely-happy groaning sound. “Candles? You gave me a freaking heart attack for candles? And scarf thingies?” He pulled out the spicy-scented scarves with the beaded trim. “What in the world are these for?”

“To put over the lamps. You know—for mood lighting. I thought it might be nice.” A knot loomed at the back of her throat. “It's been a while since I... Candles make everything more special.”

“Aw, hell...” He set the bag on the floor, then slid one of his hands behind her back and his other beneath her thighs to ease her in his direction. Once his hands were free, he cupped her face, rendering her incapable of drawing her next breath when he brushed the pads of his thumbs over her quivering lower lip. “Woman, don't you know you're all the special I need?”

He kissed her nice and slow and suddenly everything between them felt fresh and new. Their previous physical explorations had been beyond amazing, but somehow lacked substance. Here,
now
, desire pooled between her legs and she wanted all of him—needed all of him—more than air.

His breath spilled warm and sweet smelling and familiar against her upper lip, and then he was kissing her again and she was falling far deeper than she'd ever planned to go.

Somehow, they made it out of the truck and into their room.

He leaned her against the closed door and kissed her more while unbuttoning her dress and sliding the straps over her shoulders. Though the room was warm and stuffy, the brush of the backs of his fingers against her collarbone caused her to shiver.

“Cold?”

She shook her head before working on removing his shirt.

The room smelled fresh and new and the people next door had their TV turned up too loud. It didn't matter. The event unfolding was primal and a little raw and too far gone to stop. The bag with Effie's candles had long since landed with a crinkle and thud to the floor, along with her dress and Marsh's shirt.

He hefted her into his arms for a quick trip to the bed.

The comforter was downy and white and the parking lot lights spilled through parted drapes, illuminating Marsh as he tossed his hat to the sofa, then braced his arms on either side of her for not just a kiss, but a glorious Technicolor dream.

She fumbled with unlatching his belt buckle and then his fly.

It was no secret he was as turned on as she was, and she gripped him, giving him a squeeze.

“Damn...” He arched his head back and groaned.

She'd meant to giggle, but the sound came out as more a throaty laugh she didn't recognize as her own. In a heartbeat, he'd changed her, rearranged her every goal and priority until all that existed was this moment. The feel of him skimming his rough fingertips over her soft belly and inner thighs.

He helped her out of her embarrassingly utilitarian white bra and panties. Before she had time to worry whether he'd noticed they were shabby from too many washings, he was kneading her aching breasts and placing openmouthed kisses between her thighs.

She shuddered when he moved his kisses higher and hands lower, parting her and stroking her, fueling a fire that had been reduced to coals for far too long. How had she reached a point where she'd forgotten she was even a woman? Now that Marsh had given her this reminder, how did she ever let go?

All too soon, a confusing rush of sensation and emotions flooded her in a rising, building storm. When her arousal reached its peak, in spite of the physical beauty Marsh had shown her, tears fell.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Yes. I just... This has all happened so fast, and—”

“Then, baby, let's slow it down.”

“But I don't want to. Being with you reminded me how deep-down lonely I've been, and I don't ever want to go back to that dark place. But after tonight, we have to, you know?”

“Who says?”

“Common sense,” she said through a half smile. “I've got the kids, and you've got the Navy to get back to. Tonight can't be anything more than a temporary respite. But I don't want it to be. And that makes me sad. Why can't I be happy with my lot in life? I've been blessed with three gorgeous children and my grandmother and parents. And you...”

“Come here.” He pulled her into a hug. While he stroked her hair, she rested her cheek against his pounding heart. What did it mean that she wasn't alone in her runaway attraction? Was this bond simmering between them purely physical, or could there be something more? Layer upon layer of confusion only crushed her more. She'd already put her children through one marriage falling apart. What if she gave Marsh a chance as at least being a boyfriend, only to once again fail? What kind of example would she be setting for her kids?

“I—I have to go.” She bolted upright, giving him a light shove. Even though the room was mostly dark, she covered herself with the throw blanket from the end of the bed. “I'm, sorry. I'll reimburse you for the cost of the room. But I need to get home to my kids.”

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. “You're killing me.”

“Marsh,
please
.”

“Okay...”

She found her panties and bra, then her dress, then locked herself in the bathroom to slide all of it on in the dark, because she couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror. Finally, sheer logistics forced her to flip on the light, but she didn't recognize the woman staring back at her. Shocker—she looked beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and hair a tousled mess. She no longer looked like a mom, but like the fulfilled woman Marsh had made her feel she was.

What am I doing?

She sat on the closed toilet seat.

A knock sounded on the door. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.”
No!
She was still sexually frustrated and craving more kisses, and after making love, she wanted desperately to fall asleep in Marsh's safe, strong embrace only to wake to find herself still there in the morning sun. But that was just fantasy, and her real life consisted of twin boys and a baby girl who needed her far more than she needed another man who would only inevitably hurt her.

She swiped silent tears.

“I'm dressed. Say the word and we'll go.”

He was so kind and respectful. What made her assume that just because Moody had hurt her, Marsh would, too?

“Marsh?”

“Yes?”

“After losing your son, do you ever feel like you're destined to be alone? Like for being stupid enough to make mistakes that solitary confinement is all you deserve? But in my case, that's even worse, because I'm surrounded by little people who need me—are worthy of me—constantly being at my best.”

“Come out of there. I want to show you something.”

She rose to meet him at the door.

In the room's cramped entry, he took her hand, then led her to a sofa. He turned on a side table lamp before removing three photos from his wallet. He fanned them for her to see.

The first was of an infant, swaddled in blue. “This is Tucker on the day he was born. Leah had a rough delivery and fussed about his head being misshapen, but I thought he was the most spellbinding creature I'd seen in this world. I—” His voice caught, and Effie's heart ached for him. “Before having my son, I don't think I ever really knew what it was like to love. I mean, I loved my wife, but it was different. What I felt for Tucker was all consuming—but in a great way. He made me strive for not just better, but perfection as a husband and father.”

The second image was of a towheaded boy blowing out two candles on a chocolate cake that he'd already managed to partially wear on his cheek.

Marsh forced a breath. “By the time Tucker was two, I had this parenting thing down. With the same precision I used for studying military maneuvers, I researched everything from child psychology to the healthiest snacks to toys that were both safe and enriching. When my wife gave him a GI Joe for his second birthday, I snatched it away, biting her head off for giving him a gift that wasn't age appropriate. The look on her face right after I called her out in front of our family and friends wasn't cool. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, but deep down—” he patted his chest “—I knew I could have handled it a dozen more kind ways.”

The third image was of a three-year-old running to catch a Frisbee on the beach. His hair had grown longer and darker and his smile reminded Effie of Marsh's. “This photo was taken about thirty minutes before Tucker died. He was playing Frisbee with the older son of one of our friends. The kid overthrew the Frisbee—no big deal, you know?” Silent tears streamed down Marsh's cheeks. Effie yearned to comfort Marsh, but in the same breath suspected this story was something he needed to get out. “It skipped into the water and Tucker chased after it. That particular beach was known for its pristine sand and isolation from the tourists, but it also had nasty riptides, so I'd warned him not to go out past his knees. Even for a little guy, he was a strong swimmer—I made sure of that. After all, he'd grow up to be a SEAL, right? Just like his old man?”

He choked on a teary laugh. “It was near sunset, and the wind was blowing a good fifteen knots. I was having a bitch of a time starting a driftwood fire for hot dogs, and my buddies Rowdy and Grady were razzing me for screwing it up. I was so intent on proving them wrong that I didn't see Tucker run into the water. Leah had been asked to be in her best friend's wedding and was ogling bridal magazines with a few other women. By the time I got the fire started, this kid named Benji wandered over to report that he couldn't find Tucker. I freaked. I ran into the water, but it was already too late. My son floated in the surf like flotsam. I carried him to shore, gave him mouth-to-mouth and CPR. My wife called 911, but he was too far gone for any of that. My most precious possession was already taken. But here's the thing...”

He sniffed, swiping at still-tearing eyes. “Tucker never was a possession, but a precious gift. All along, I didn't get that. I was careless, and those few minutes of neglect cost
everything
.”

“Oh, Marsh, no...” Effie drew him to her, and now she was crying while he sobbed against her chest. “Honey, what happened was an accident. A horrible, tragic, unfathomable freak of nature thing that could have happened to anyone.”

“But it wasn't just
anyone
who lost their son, Eff. It was me. And now—at least, until tonight, with you—I've felt like an empty shell. No—it was sooner than that. The first time I thought the future might actually be doable was when your Remington was having fits about his eyeball falling out. That cracked me up. I'd forgotten how funny kids can be, and being around your boys and baby Cass feels good. Almost meant to be. Then, there's you. You're comforting and nurturing and all at the same time one hundred percent woman. I can't pinpoint how or when it happened, but Effie, I'm falling for you—all of you—and part of me feels guilty for wanting to once again be happy. For letting my son die, I never deserve to smile again.”