“Is he your boyfriend?”
She laughed out loud, but she didn’t look as if she found the question amusing.
“Marc is a good friend,” she said, at last. “He was just … being concerned.”
“Yeah, right.” Concerned, my ass!
“Actually, I think you’re more his type.”
Huh? Oh. He was gay? I hadn’t picked up that vibe. Normally I could tell if a guy was into dudes. And suddenly I was feeling very relieved.
But then again, if he was concerned for her, it implied that she’d told him something that he might be concerned about.
“Did you tell him about me?”
“Which bit?” sighed Caro. “It doesn’t matter: the answer is no—it’s not anyone’s business but mine.”
Then she looked pointedly at her watch.
“Sebastian, it’s late and I’m tired. If you’ve got anything else to say to me, say it quickly. Otherwise I’m going to bed.”
I stared at my hands, trying to find the words. Begging her to stay without being able to say it.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” I said quietly. “It was just … a shock … seeing you again.”
“For me, too,” she said, her voice soft.
For the first time it sounded like she felt something other than irritation or disgust for me. It made me hopeful.
“Let me make it up to you, Caro,” I pleaded, desperation seeping into my voice. “Let me take you out tomorrow. I could show you the city. I’ve been here for months—I know my way around pretty well.”
“I don’t think so…”
She shook her head, and my desperation began to crescendo.
“Caro, come on. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise—I know your travel permit hasn’t come through.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Well…” Oh shit. “That was just the impression I got. You’d have been packing otherwise. Please, Caro, I know some great Italian restaurants. It’ll be like…”
I hesitated, but then she finished the sentence for me, “…old times?”
I smiled with relief. “Do you have anything better to do?”
She sighed, and I knew she was giving in. “No, I don’t. Fine. But one false move, Hunter, and you’ll regret it.”
I couldn’t help grinning at her, relief flowing through me like cool water in the desert. “Yes, ma’am!”
She smiled back and then her gaze dipped over toward the bar. “I think I will have that drink now.”
Before she could stand, I was on my feet.
“I’ll get it. A red wine?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I remembered that Barolo had been her favorite. It was the first wine I’d ever drunk—and she’d given it to me. Although I was more of a whiskey kind of guy these days.
She looked surprised when I handed it to her, but I wasn’t sure why.
“I got you a Barolo.”
“Mmm, my favorite.”
“I know. I remembered you liked it.”
She stared at me in amazement.
I remember every second we were together, I wanted to say. Jeez, my inner 17-year-old was a real pussy.
“Oh, well … thank you.”
The tension began building between us again, and automatically my cock hardened. Things had always been intense between us: ten years hadn’t changed that.
“How was it … after I left?” she asked.
I leaned back on the sofa, my eyes closed. I usually tried not to think about that time—those had been dark days.
“Bad,” I admitted at last.
I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her—definitely not about the time my dad hit me so hard I lost a tooth; or the time he trashed my room, smashing my computer and cell phone; and definitely not the time that mom called Caro a whore, and said I was too stupid to live.
I was almost ready to agree with her. Thank God Mitch and Shirley knew what my parents were like.
“Mom and Dad were … in the end Mitch went to see them—I didn’t know what he said at the time but he and Shirley took me to live with them. Later, I found out that Mitch had threatened to go to my dad’s CO and tell him that he’d been … beating up on me.”
She looked so shocked, I knew I could never tell her the whole truth. I took a deep breath.
“On my eighteenth birthday I enlisted in the Marines.” Except that Dad blackmailed me to join, saying he’d have Caro arrested for statutory rape if I didn’t do what he said. “That’s pretty much it.”
She chewed on her lip, her beautiful eyes downcast. This conversation really wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. But at least we were talking.
“And Mitch and Shirley?” she asked. “Ches?”
Mitch was a Staff Sergeant in the First of the First, and the reason I decided to join the Marines instead of the Navy like my old man wanted.
Mitch and Shirley were good people. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have known what a real family was like. They’d done more for me when I was growing up than my own sorry excuse for parents. Ches was more a brother than a friend.
“Mitch and Shirley were stationed in Germany soon after I enlisted. Ches was studying at UCSD, so when I had leave I used to hang with him and his college buddies. He’s married with two kids now.”
I smiled at the thought, as crazy as it was true. Caro seemed to agree with me.
“You’re kidding me? Really? Did he enlist, too?”
“He was going to, but then he met Amy at college and she talked him out of it. He’s the manager at La Jolla Country Club now.”
My mind immediately drifted back to that summer and the few weeks when I’d worked at the country club, and one extremely hot encounter with Caro in a changing room storage closet. Just thinking of that dark space, our bodies covered in a layer of sweat as I fucked her against a wall, it had the blood in my body heading south.
I shifted uncomfortably as my dick tried to climb through the zipper of my jeans. Discreetly, I shrugged out of my jacket and laid it across my lap.
A faint blush colored Caro’s face, and I wondered if she was remembering the same thing. She cleared her throat.
“Are Shirley and Mitch still out in Germany?”
“No. Mitch got sent to Parris Island as an instructor. But last time I saw them, they were hoping to go back to San Diego. I guess they want to be near their grandkids.”
“Where did Donna and Johan go?”
Hearing those names was weird. Captain Vorstadt—Admiral Vorstadt as he’d later become—they had lived on the Base near us. I remember that Mrs. Vorstadt was friendly with Caro. She’d been there when we’d been ripped apart and Caro was sent away. They’d been stationed at NAS Key West after that. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.
“How did you know they went away?”
Caro hesitated before she replied.
“I wrote to them,” she said at last.
I leaned forward, staring at her, trying to ease the truth out of her.
“When?” I croaked.
“Around the time of your 21st birthday, Sebastian. And I wrote to Shirley and Mitch. My letters were returned to sender, unopened. I assumed they’d either gone away or…”
I swallowed several times.
“So, you did try to contact me?”
I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. Did that mean…?
“Yes and no,” Caro said carefully. “I wanted to believe that you’d gone on with your life and I didn’t want to … disrupt anything. That’s why I tried to contact Shirley and Mitch. I wanted to find out if my approach would be a positive thing—or not. When my letter was returned…”
She’d tried to find me? It smelled like bullshit. Two fucking letters in three years. She’d promised me that we’d be together forever and...
She was a journalist, for fuck’s sake—she could have found me … if she wanted to.
“Everyone said I should just forg
et about you.” I laughed without humor. “As if that was even possible. I tried to find you, Caro, but I didn’t know your surname—your unmarried name—and the only person who knew was…” your ex-husband. “I left messages everywhere I could think of. I asked the new tenants at your house, at Shirley and Mitch’s, and Donna’s—I asked them to forward any mail to me … I guess that didn’t happen. Fuck, Caro, we would have been…”
All these years wasted. IF she was telling the truth.
I took a long drink of wine, hoping that she hadn’t noticed my hands were shaking.
“You thought I didn’t care.”
Her voice was soft and filled with sadness. I didn’t dare believe it.
“I didn’t know what to think at first. Later … yeah, I guess I thought you’d … moved on.”
She sighed, dropping her gaze. “I did move on, Sebastian: I had to. When those letters came back … and even before I sent them, I thought you’d be better off without me. I suppose I hoped that your life would be … different. More like Ches’s. I guess that explains why you were so unpleasant these last few days.”
She was right—I’d been a prick.
“Shit, I’m really sorry about that. It was just such a fucking shock. I didn’t know what to think. It sent me into a real tailspin.”
“It was a shock for me, too, Sebastian,” she said firmly, “but I didn’t behave like a dick.”
She was feisty these days. I couldn’t help smiling.
“Not your style, Caro.”
God she was beautiful. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but there was no way she could be single after all this time, even if she wasn’t dating the French asshole.
She stared at me then leaned back in her chair.
“Just ask me, Sebastian.”
She’d always been able to read me.
“You’re so fearless, Caro, I love that about you. I was wondering … if you were seeing anyone.”
I held my breath until she answered.
“No, I’m not.”
Thank fuck. “But you were? I mean … since…”
She shook her head, but I wasn’t sure what that meant.
“I dated a couple of times,” she explained slowly, “but no, there was nothing serious. Besides, I travel too much to sustain a relationship. And I definitely don’t want to get tied down again.”
Was that her way of telling me she wasn’t interested in me?
“What about you?” she asked. “Any significant other?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Fuck, no!”
She gave me a challenging look and raised her eyebrows. “That’s not what I heard.”
“What? What did you hear?” I demanded.
She blinked a couple of times.
“About your CO’s wife—in Paris? Maybe it was just gossip.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, that. Guy was a first class bastard—he deserved it.”
Caro shook her head disapprovingly. “And did she ‘deserve’ it? His wife?”
My smile vanished. Celia, my CO’s wife, was a vain cunt who had screwed her way through half the staff before me.
“Yes, she did.” Stupid bitch.
“And the possibility of getting court-martialed and thrown out of the Corps … that didn’t matter to you either?”
I shrugged. “I don’t give a shit.” It was the truth.
Suddenly, Caro pushed her glass away.
“Well, I think I’ll call it a night now, Sebastian.”
Wait, what?
“Don’t go, Caro! We’ve only just started talking again. You haven’t finished your wine, you…”
“No, I’m tired,” she insisted.
She started to stand but I reached out, resting my hand on her leg.
“Caro, I really want you.”
Her face darkened, and I realized my words had come out really fucking wrong.
“For God’s sake, Sebastian!” she hissed, her voice quietly furious. “We have one civilized drink together and you think I’m just going to fall into bed with you?”
“You used to.”
“How dare you!”
Oh shit. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said.
But she stood up to leave so I grabbed hold of her hand, desperate to stop her.
“Caro, wait! Shit! I’m sorry.”
She shook me off.
“Sebastian, we can’t just roll back the last ten years and pretend it never happened. Too much has happened—too much time has passed.”
“Come on, Caro, don’t say that.”
“Good night, Sebastian.”
And she walked away. Again. I couldn’t believe it. How had I managed to fuck things up so sensationally for the umpteenth time?
I sat there, hoping she’d come back, even though I knew she wouldn’t. I toyed with the idea of knocking on her door again, but I didn’t think that would help. She was tired and pissed.
I’d had the target in my sights, but I’d missed.
I needed a new strategy.
Hours later, I sat in my apartment with the window open, staring out across the lake. The pool of darkness surrounded by the lights of the city mirrored how I felt.
I’d been here for months, but this wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure where that was anymore. I missed my Unit. I’d had friends then—guys I’d give my life for and who’d give their life for me. Finding out I had skills with languages had been a double-edged sword, because it left me isolated within the Corps. But I hadn’t felt this lonely since Caro first left.
I hated her—what she’d done to me, the person I’d become without her in my life. But I hated more the thought of losing her again.
I’d have to mount a charm offensive, hoping for more charm and less offense this time.
I eyed the half-full bottle of whiskey waiting by my bed and seriously thought about diving into it. But I also knew that turning up hung-over and stinking of bourbon was not going to win me any votes with Caro. Instead, I changed into my sweats and took off for a run, pushing my body to the limit, trying to drive out the demons.
Sometimes it worked.
The next morning I woke early. It was something of a novelty to wake up sober; I might even start to like it again. But my nerves were kicking in, demanding a whiskey Band-aid before I headed out. This wasn’t just some woman: this was Caro. And so far I’d fucked up every encounter we’d had.
I picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid, but Caro’s words came back to me: quit your drinking before you really do something stupid.
I screwed the lid back on and left the apartment before the urge to self-medicate became too strong. And I needed to get to Caro’s hotel fast.
My bike was a Honda ST1100; a serious machine that had the comfort of a tourer and the fun of a sportsbike. I’d bought it in Paris while I was stationed there, and ridden it to Geneva. Riding a motorcycle gave the illusion of freedom—a loose term when you’ve signed your life away to the military.
The roads were still fairly empty of traffic at this time in the morning. Unlike Paris, where you could find a party or a card game day or night, Geneva was sober and studious, but with drink and drugs and high-class hookers in hotel rooms if you knew where to look. And I did. But the Swiss liked to hide any sign that showed they were as corrupt as everyone else, like the Nazi gold that still lay hidden inside Zurich’s bank vaults.
I broke a few speed limits getting to Caro’s hotel, just because it felt good—reminded me I was alive. As if I needed reminding this morning. My nerve endings were firing like the business end of a M16.
I by-passed reception and took the stairs to Caro’s room two at a time. I knocked quickly and took a deep breath waiting for her voice, waiting for the door to open.
But there was nothing.
I knocked again, leaning my head against the door as if trying to get closer to her.
“Caro, it’s me. Look, about last night—I’m … can you open the door for a minute?”
But she r
efused to answer.
Goddamn it! The silent treatment was driving me crazy. Couldn’t we talk like adults? I know I hadn’t done a great job of that so far, but…
I pounded on the door again.
“For fuck’s sake, Caro! Can we please just talk?” Still no answer. I ran my fingers over my hair, frustration snapping at my nerves. “This is fucking crazy,” I muttered to myself.
“That’s one of the words,” said a quiet voice behind me.
Caro.
I flinched, wondering how much she’d heard. But then my eyes started wandering up her bare legs to the hotel robe wrapped tightly around her, covering her breasts. Her hair was wet and I could smell chlorine.
“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” I admitted.
“That certainly would have been one of my better ideas,” she replied coldly, and I couldn’t help wincing at her tone even though she was talking to me.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over the scruff on my face.
“Don’t be like that, Caro. Look, I’m sorry. I mean it. Around you, I just seem to open my mouth to change feet.”
“You can say that again.”
“I will if you let me buy you breakfast,” I offered, giving her my best smile, the one that usually worked on women. But not today.
“Are you stalking me, Sebastian?” she said bitterly. “I thought we said everything we had to say to each other last night.”
Ah shit.
“I just want … can’t we be friends?”
I didn’t really want to be friends, but I’d take what I could get.
“Friends? I was under the impression you wanted to fuck me out of some sense of revenge.”
What the…? No. Maybe … choose the right answer, Hunter!
“No!”
“Are you sure about that?” she bit out. “Because last night you told me that’s exactly what you did to your CO’s wife. Why should I be any different?”
I stared at her in disbelief. That was what she really thought of me? I was still gaping at her when she spoke again.
“Just go,” she said wearily, fingering the keycard in her hand.
Fuck, no!
I took a deep breath, trying to push the desperation away.
“I know I’m saying everything wrong but … we used to have fun, didn’t we?” I pleaded. “Let’s just spend some time together—get to know each other again. You’re right: we can’t pretend the last ten years never happened. Just … give me a chance. I’m not the heartless bastard you seem to think I am. I’m still me, Caro.”
Semper Fi Page 4