Ex Marks the Spot (Harlequin Next)

by Merline Lovelace

  “Dammit, woman! You don’t have the sense God gave a drunken duck.”

  “Me!”

  Screeching with outrage, Andi struggled in his arms. Dave clamped them tighter.

  “What in hell possessed you to go climbing ladders?”

  Both his tone and his accusation infuriated Andi. She knew damn well she couldn’t win a wrestling match with Dave. He’d pinned her to the mat—and to the mattress—too many times. But that didn’t mean she had to take whatever he decided to dish out.

  Going rigid, she flung his angry words right back at him. “What in hell possessed you to barge in and scare the crap out of me?”

  “I was driving by and spotted your car. Then I spotted you.”

  His voice was as dangerous as broken glass. She felt every one of the sharp edges.

  “Seeing you perched on that ladder scared the crap out of me,” he ground out.

  Andi had to believe him. The tendons in his neck stood out like ropes. His heart hammered so hard and fast she could feel its beat right through his uniform.

  Hers wasn’t exactly dragging along. Pulling in a deep breath, she made a grudging admission. “Okay, maybe climbing that ladder wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “No maybe about it.”

  So much for defusing his temper! Or hers. The snide remark reignited the sparks.

  “I don’t need this, Armstrong. I’ve had an all-around rotten day.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Go to hell.”

  The rock-hard planes of his face softened. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic.”

  Keeping her imprisoned against his chest, he put his shoulders to the wall and slid down until his butt hit the floor. Hers hit the rock-hard planes of his belly.

  “Tell me,” he said, loosening his hold enough for her to wiggle into a sitting position.

  Andi knew she should push out of his arms, dust off her bottom, thank him for his concern and get back to work. The memory of all the times they’d shared their worries and frustrations at work overcame common sense.

  Thrusting a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, she jerked her chin toward the cartons stacked ten high against the opposite wall.

  “It’s these damned bookshelves. They were delivered this afternoon. Three hours late, I might add. The delivery crew was supposed to put them together.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “Uncrating and setup weren’t included in their instructions—or so they insisted. By the time I got hold of a supervisor, it was past five and the crew was off the clock. We had to reschedule.”

  “So you decided not to wait?” Disapproval followed hard on the heels of disbelief. “You were going to set them up? By yourself?”

  “Not all of them,” she huffed, bristling again. “Just that one. I wanted to see how it looked and take the shelf measurements.”

  He gathered steam for another scathing remark. Andi narrowed her eyes to slits, daring him to utter it. Their silent duel lasted a good five or ten seconds until Dave bit back whatever he’d intended to say.

  The effort damn near choked him. He still hadn’t recovered from his stark terror at seeing her topple off the ladder. Or his fury at her for climbing up on it in the first place. Now the weight of her bottom digging into his groin was shooting what little was left of his control all to hell.

  Shifting, he eased her to a less sensitive spot. “What else went wrong with your day?”

  “You name it.” Shoulders hunched, she deflated like a balloon. “The occupancy permit I applied for still hasn’t come through. When I called the city offices this morning, I got a runaround like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “And?”

  “And the computer wiz who was supposed to come in and give me an estimate for the wireless terminals I want installed failed to show.”

  “Sounds like the civilian world isn’t cooperating with your time-phased deployment schedule.”

  “No kidding,” she said glumly. “If any of these folks had been military, I would have charged them with AWOL or failure to repair.”

  He wanted to sympathize with her but was still hauling the weight of his own day.

  “It could have been worse, Andi.”

  “Oh? You want to tell me how?”

  “You could have fallen off that ladder and broken a few bones. Or lost a 130.”

  He hadn’t meant to let that slip out. She had enough on her mind right now without adding his problems to her own. The media would pick up on the accident soon enough, however. Just as well she heard it from him first.

  “Oh, no!” Her voice flooding with dismay, she wiggled around to face him. “When? Where?”

  “This morning, at Kadena.”

  “What about the crew?”

  “Everyone aboard walked away.”

  “Thank God!”

  The giant fist squeezing Andi’s heart eased its grip. Nothing hit an Air Force member faster or with more gut-wrenching impact than hearing a plane had gone down. It hit even harder when there was a very real possibility close friends had been aboard.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s too early to be sure, but it looks like they encountered a vicious wind shear on takeoff and went nose-down into the runway.”

  He leaned back and propped his head against the wall. He looked so tired, Andi thought, yanked away from her petty problems. So different from the cocky captain who’d swooped in and swept her off her feet all those years ago.

  When he’d jogged toward her on the beach recently, she’d thought he looked as strong and superbly conditioned as ever. Seeing him now, this close, this unguarded, Andi noted the subtle changes.

  His tanned skin still stretched taut over his cheeks and chin, but a network of fine lines had become etched at the corners of his eyes and mouth. And was that a hint of silver threading through his coal-black hair?

  It was!

  “You’re going gray, Armstrong.”

  “You just now noticing?”

  Fascinated by those errant strands, she ran her fingers through the short, thick layers.

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one showing signs of age.”

  “Now that you mention it,” he said with a slow smile, “I have noticed a few wrinkles. They look good.”

  His glance drifted over her face and snagged at her jawline. His smile fading, he traced the small white scar with his thumb.

  “This from Iraq?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t learn you were in that marketplace until two days after the explosion.”

  She shrugged aside the implied accusation. “I wasn’t hurt. All I got was this little scratch.”

  “And the bacteria that slipped into your blood through the open wound.”

  “And that.”

  As his calloused pad feathered over her skin, it occurred to Andi they were alone in the empty shop, nested together like Russian dolls.

  The same thought must have occurred to Dave. His thumb stilled. The air seemed to get heavy around them.

  Andi sensed his intent a second or two before he leaned into her. Her pulse skipping and stuttering, she splayed a hand against his chest.

  “Wait, Dave.”

  “For what?”

  “This…this isn’t smart.”

  “Maybe not,” he murmured, his mouth a mere inch or two from hers. “Then again, it could be the smartest thing we’ve done in years.”

  Andi ached to feel his mouth on hers again. So much she hurt with it. She came within a breath of dropping her hand, lifting her lips and inviting him inside the gates again. Knowing the invitation would only lead to more hurt stopped her cold.

  Her life had made a sharp right turn in the past month or so, but Dave’s hadn’t. He was still in uniform, still living, breathing and sleeping Special Tactics. Still gone more than he was home. Andi wasn’t ready to take on either the worry or the long, empty nights again.

  “I can’t
do this. Not now. Not yet.”

  She’d left the door open. Intentionally or otherwise— Andi was damned if she knew which at that point. Dave acknowledged as much with a reluctant nod.

  “I won’t push you. Yet.”

  With that unsubtle warning, he lifted her off her perch and rolled to his feet. His hand was warm and strong as he tugged her up.

  “Tell you what. I’ve got Chinese takeout in my car. How about we chow down, then I’ll attach this bookcase to the wall and help you with the measurements?”

  “From the sound of it, your day was a lot worse than mine. Are you sure you don’t want to go home and hit the beach for a run?”

  “I’m sure. We can use the packing crate as a table.”

  TWO HOURS LATER DAVE followed Andi’s red Tahoe through the warm September night. As promised, he’d shared his spicy Szechuan beef, secured her bookcase and patiently held one end of the tape measure while she dragged the other along the shelves. All the while he’d had to fight to keep from reneging on his promise.

  Andi didn’t know how close he’d come to letting his gnawing hunger for her slip its leash. How close she’d come to being tumbled back onto a bed of cardboard packing material. If not for those unshuttered shop windows and bright, fluorescent lights…

  He’d do better next time, he vowed.

  Dave was close on Andi’s tail when she turned onto their street. He hit the garage opener but kept his vehicle idling in his driveway until she’d pulled into hers. The fact they were going to separate garages in separate houses with separate beds ate at him like acid.

  Her garage door rumbled up and the Tahoe nosed inside. Andi slid out of the vehicle, her long legs exiting first, the rest of her following a moment later. Dave was okay until she bent to reach across the driver’s seat and the hem of her blouse parted company with her jeans. When a stretch of smooth, curved spine came into view, he climbed halfway out of his vehicle.

  He could still feel the imprint of the hand she’d laid against his chest. Then there was the ache in his groin. He hadn’t stopped hurting since Andi had landed in his lap.

  The image of her overbalancing on that ladder brought him the rest of the way out of his vehicle. His shout boomed across the adjoining drives.

  “Hey, Armstrong!”

  She backed out of her car with an oversize binder and a tool bag in hand. “Yes?”

  “Are you going down to the shop tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I’ve got an electrician coming in at nine to do some wiring. Why?”

  “Promise me you won’t uncrate any more of those bookshelves.”

  “I might uncrate a couple more, but I won’t try to set them up.”

  “Dammit, Andi…”

  “Night, Dave. Thanks for dinner and, well, everything.”

  Was that what they’d come to? he thought as she hit a switch and started the garage door rattling back down. Neighbors calling good-night across separate driveways?

  Like hell!

  His jaw tight, Dave flipped up his cell phone and punched in the speed-dial number for Chief Master Sergeant Joe Goodwin.

  Dave and the chief went back a long way. So long that neither needed to bother with the formality of rank, although both meticulously observed it. Their respect for each other ran too deep to cross the invisible lines.

  “I need a favor, Chief.”

  “You got it, Colonel.”

  His eyes locked on the house next door, Dave outlined his requirements.

  “Consider it done,” Goodwin said crisply.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sue Ellen couldn’t believe her eyes!

  She’d swung by the former scuba-and-dive shop on her way home from work on the off chance Andi might still be puttering around. To S.E.’s delight, she was—assisted by what looked like acres of bulging male muscle.

  It came in all shapes, sizes and skin tones. Sweat glistened on bulked-up ebony shoulders. Freckles and reddish hair spackled arms the size of tree trunks, two of which were attached to the torso of a Viking hulk. A welterweight with melting brown eyes and skin the color of dark oak flexed an impressive set of pecs as he crab-walked a tall bookcase into line with two others.

  Dazzled by the display, Sue Ellen almost missed Andi. She was near the back of the shop, dwarfed by a sea of discarded packing materials, feeding pieces of the industrial-strength cardboard to another hunk, who folded and compressed the thick sheets like tissue paper.

  Feasting on the display, Sue Ellen wove her way through the forest of masculinity. She’d scheduled a meeting with the head of the Automotive Retailers Association in Pensacola this afternoon and had suited up for the occasion. Her silk blouse, tailored navy suit and three-inch spike heels added oomph to her five-foot-two-inch frame but didn’t make for easy navigation through half-assembled shelving units.

  “Hey, girlfriend.”

  Andi returned her greeting with a smile that showed some wear and tear at the edges. “Hey, S.E. I didn’t see you come in. Did you just get here?”

  “I did. If I’d known you were throwing a party for all these hotties,” she added, eyeing a stud with a shaved head and a bull-like neck using a crowbar to pry open a carton, “I would have stopped by sooner.”

  “I didn’t throw this party.” The comment held a blend of amusement, exasperation and chagrin. “The chief did.”

  The man wielding the crowbar straightened. He was older than the others, S.E. saw, and considerably more seasoned. What she’d mistaken for a shaved head was actually grayish hair buzzed so close to his scalp as to appear nonexistent.

  “Sue Ellen, this is Chief Master Sergeant Joe Goodwin. Chief, my friend Sue Ellen Carson.”

  He folded S.E.’s hand in a thorny paw, his smile something less than friendly. “Ms. Carson and I have met before.”

  “We have?”

  “A few months ago, when you pulled the plug on the summer training camp I want to establish for local kids. I came to your office to discuss it.”

  Sue Ellen remembered him now. He looked different out of uniform, without his badges and ribbons and his beret positioned low on his forehead.

  She also remembered their so-called discussion. That was the closest she’d come to losing her cool in more years than she could remember.

  “There are strict guidelines for the training and employment of kids under the age of eighteen.”

  “Yeah, you emphasized that point. Several times.”

  Sue Ellen was no proponent of bureaucratic red tape. Still, there were rules and then there were rules.

  “If you’d coordinated with my office before initiating your program, I would have reviewed it for compliance with Department of Labor regulations and sent it up my chain for approval.”

  “Instead you just shut me down.”

  “That’s right, I did. Submit the proper paperwork, get up-front approval and I might reconsider.”

  Andi figured she’d better jump in, and fast. The chief’s chin stuck out like the prow of an Antarctic icebreaker. Sue Ellen’s had tipped to a dangerous angle.

  “I’d better get a copy of those guidelines, too. I’ve had several kids come by asking about the possibility of part-time employment.”

  “No problem. I’ll e-mail you a copy.”

  The head-on collision avoided, Sue Ellen swept another look around the shop. Her glance met and mingled with one particularly prime specimen before shifting back to Andi.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “In those heels? Nothing.”

  “I’m here, I’m available. Might as well put me to work.”

  “Well…”

  Andi brushed back the stubborn strand that had escaped her ponytail and now dangled over one eye. She had a thousand things that needed doing, not the least of which was feeding her horde of volunteers.

  “The guys gave up their afternoon off to help me. I’ve supplied them with beer and Gatorade, but they need solid fuel to keep going.”

  “I can handle that. I’ll hit
the deli a couple doors down. Sliced ham, turkey and provolone coming right up.”

  “You’d better throw some red meat in there,” the chief advised in a dry voice.

  “Really?”

  Andi tensed as the two squared off again. With her short, feathery hair and deep purple eyes, Sue Ellen looked like a delicate porcelain doll next to the leathery chief. Just went to show how deceptive appearances could be.

  “How would you like that beef?” she asked with saccharine sweetness. “Rare and bloody or still on the hoof?”

  “However they want to slice it. These men are—”

  Andi flung up a hand. “We know, Chief.”

  She knew what was coming. She’d heard it often enough. So had Sue Ellen. The two women dropped their voices several octaves and grunted in chorus.

  “They’re Special Tactics.”

  “Damn straight,” Goodwin muttered.

  TO ANDI’S RELIEF, JOE GOODWIN and S.E. declared a truce long enough to feed the troops. Dinner was a haphazard affair. The men consumed crusty subs layered three inches thick with minimum fuss and maximum speed. Tubs of potato salad, coleslaw and baked beans disappeared with equal efficiency. The work went on around the impromptu picnic until every tub was empty and every shelf had been screwed into place.

  Andi could hardly find words to thank them. Or the chief when he pulled another huge favor out of his hat. It came in the form of a casual question.

  “Are you planning to stock any books by Roger Brent?”

  “A few, seeing as he’s only the biggest, hottest name in military thrillers these days. I’m hoping the sequel to Blood Sport will hit the stands in time for my grand opening.”

  “He lives in Mobile, you know.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Her mind was already leaping ahead to the possibility of convincing the New York Times bestselling author to drive over for an autographing. Chief Goodwin was one step ahead of her.

  “Public Affairs asked me to provide technical assistance on the sequel. Brent and I got pretty close last year. You want me to give him a call, see if he might come by and sign some copies?”