Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance

by Jessica Scott

  Her lips parted as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck beneath her ear. He could almost taste her. Closer. Until his teeth scraped across her skin. She shivered and her eyes fluttered closed as the sensations rocketed through them both.

  He tugged at her hands and urged her to lower them with a slight pressure. She resisted.

  He frowned and turned her in his arms even as she pulled away.

  Shane woke with the feel of Jen’s skin on his lips, the dream ending abruptly. He turned his eyes toward the door. He’d been waiting for her, he realized suddenly. Waiting for Jen and missing her as the days ticked by and she still hadn’t returned.

  He wanted to see her eyes warm when she saw him. See her mouth turn up into that soft smile. It was a simple thing that he wanted. Just her.

  But it had been nearly a week since he’d almost kissed her. A week he’d spent watching the door, waiting for that familiar smile and not seeing it. A week he’d spent wondering how the hell he was going to fix things this time. He wanted to ask the other nurses where she was. But he had kept quiet, not wanting to spark anything in the rumor mill.

  He replayed the memory of Jen’s kiss from that long-ago night and the memory of her touch from that dream. And having her close, her body heat warming his flesh. Even though it had only been a dream, the want had nearly crushed him.

  The door slammed open and Carponti strode into Shane’s room. His heart pounded against his ribs with renewed urgency. Any pleasure that lingered from thoughts of Jen crumbled as Carponti approached and plunked a netbook on the tray near Shane’s shoulder.

  “Were you raised in a barn? Quit slamming the damn door,” Shane growled. It annoyed the hell out of him that he jumped every time Carponti banged the door against the wall, but he’d be damned if he was going to confess that to Carponti. He’d never hear the end of it.

  “Quit being such a sissy.”

  “What’s that for?

  “Check your email. The guys are bitching at me about you not answering any emails.”

  “They need to be more focused on running missions.”

  Carponti shrugged. “The new platoon sergeant is a douche bag. They miss you.”

  “Which is even more of a reason for them to focus on their jobs instead of worrying about me.”

  “Holy crap, quit whining. Damn, did they take your balls off in surgery?”

  Shane stared at Carponti openmouthed. Carponti raised both of his eyebrows, taking a long pull from a ginormous travel mug. “What?” he asked.

  Silently, Shane reached for the netbook. “How do you work this thing?”

  “Ah, power button.” Carponti reached across him and pushed the little round button. He gave Shane a funny look. “How the hell did you shave with your left hand?”

  “Shouldn’t I ask you the same thing?” Shane shot back, taking in Carponti’s recently shorn cheeks.

  Carponti snorted, and whatever he’d been drinking shot through his nose. “Ha-ha, dickhead. So that’s how it is? Make fun of the one-armed guy?”

  “If the shoe fits.” But Shane’s grin matched Carponti’s. It felt good, shooting the shit with his friend, even if he didn’t want to tell him that Jen had been the first to shave that god-awful beard. “One of the volunteers gave me an electric razor.”

  “Yeah, well, let me tell you how great it is to jerk off with my left hand. Feels like someone else is doing it.”

  Shane choked on a laugh and opened his email. “Did not need to know that. Really.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Great. Thanks. Now I need brain bleach to get that tortured image out of my head. I swear to God, if I dream about that tonight, I’m killing myself.”

  Carponti laughed out loud and sat down in the visitor’s chair, kicking his feet up on the edge of the bed like he always did. Shane let out a low whistle.

  “Lot of messages?”

  “A hundred and forty-three.”

  “Best get to typing.”

  Shane shook his head and started with the oldest message first. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t find any words at the moment that would fit past the blockage in his throat. “Man, did you know that Adkins had a baby boy?”

  Carponti nodded. “He didn’t get home in time for the birth. Named him Shane, though.” His grin was absolutely wicked. “I would have thought that meant you’d boned his wife, but apparently he just thinks a lot of you. Can’t imagine why,” he mumbled as an afterthought.

  Shane blinked rapidly, turning his face back toward the computer and away from Carponti. He’d never hear the end of it if his eyes started watering. Instead, he changed the subject. “How’s Osterman?”

  Carponti didn’t answer for a long time. “I went to see him when I got back from Austin yesterday. He’s having a real bad time.”

  “Define bad time,” Shane said warily.

  “Just … bad. Look, worry about yourself for once. I’ll worry about Osterman. But get your ass out of this bed so he can see that it’s possible to get hurt and get better. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him that losing a limb isn’t the end of the world.” Carponti looked down at his shortened, bandaged arm. “Can’t imagine why I don’t have more credibility with him.”

  Silence hung in the air between them for a moment as Shane continued to read his emails. The next email was from Trent and Shane read it out loud, needing to change the subject. “Get your ass back to work and find out what the fuck is going on with LT Randall and the Rear D. The little bastard won’t respond to my emails.” Shane frowned and glanced at Carponti. “Randall’s back on rear d?”

  Carponti leaned forward, setting the travel mug down on the floor. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this crap. They sent him back to interview all of us about the missing sensitive items.”

  “What missing sensitive items? I turned that report in to LT Miller before we rolled outside the wire that night.” Shane scrubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to remember if he’d done an inventory before they’d left. He had to have. He never rolled without conducting his precombat checks.

  “Yeah, well, apparently not. The company is missing a couple of night vision optics and an M4.”

  “What?”

  Carponti shrugged and leaned back in his chair, taking a large draw from the cup. “Yep. It’s a real big deal. Has Captain Davila’s nuts in a vice, too. Hence the reason Randall is back in the States. So far the hospital staff has been keeping him out of here, but I’m sure he’s just dying to see you since you two were such BFFs before and all,” he said dryly. “At least I can avoid him.”

  Shane snorted and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He was going to have to deal with the annoying lieutenant if and when he made his way to the hospital. “What happened after we got sent home, man?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s better that Randall’s back here. At least here he can’t get someone killed.” Carponti laughed suddenly and Shane gave him a sharp look. It was always a bad sign when Carponti made that sound, but Shane couldn’t help the slow smile that spread across his own face. “Randall is better at Intimidating Shout in the World of Warcraft than he is at doing his job.”

  “Huh? What the hell is World of Warcraft?”

  “Online role-playing game. Like Dungeons and Dragons or something. Randall is like a level seventy-six or some godlike level. It’s all he does. Other than annoy the shit out of all of us, that is.”

  Shane grinned and fired off a reply to Trent that he’d do what he could to figure out what was going on as soon as he got his happy ass out of the hospital. Shane wanted to ask after the rest of the boys but Carponti pushed abruptly to his feet.

  “I’ve got to run. You can borrow the netbook, but for the love of God, answer your damn emails.”

  If only everything were as simple as Carponti made it seem sometimes. His former platoon was going to shit. His legs looked like they were held together with chicken wire and hundred-mile-an-hour tape, and he’d run off the one good th
ing he still had in his life. He was still reading through his emails when the door slapped open. Shane looked up, hoping the weeklong drought of no Jen was over. Instead, his week took a turn for the even worse.

  Lieutenant Randall stood in the doorway.

  Chapter 10

  There were places that Jen had avoided since her illness and department stores were high up on that list. So when Laura and Nicole browbeat her into going shopping for a girls’ day, Laura at least should have known better. Instead, her so-called stalwart friend had joined forces with Nicole and coaxed, prodded, and pushed until Jen had agreed to meet them at the Arboretum for lunch and a makeover, followed by shopping for underwear, or as Laura called them, visual aids. Jen really didn’t want to know why she’d said visual aids in the same sentence as Skype. She loved Laura like a sister, but she still didn’t want to picture her friend naked in front of a webcam.

  Jen didn’t want a makeover or new underwear. Lingerie. Whatever. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure why Laura was going for any of the above right now, either. Her husband wasn’t due home on midtour leave for another couple of months and they still weren’t talking.

  So Jen sat in the parking lot of Austin’s Arboretum and waited for Laura and Nicole to arrive, feeling her scar pulse against her bra. She was surrounded by luxury cars and women who were dressed to the nines just to get their nails painted. It was times like these that she wished she owned more than capris and T-shirts. She sighed. At least her toenails were painted.

  Nicole and Laura pulled up and parked next to her. They’d gone down to the hospital in San Antonio to visit a couple of guys in the burn center and had asked Jen to meet them in Austin for a pilgrimage to their favorite holy land. As her friends stepped out of the car, Jen immediately noticed that they were both dressed to blend in significantly better than Jen. She groaned as she reluctantly left her own car. This was so not going to be fun. As if she could read Jen’s mind, Nicole narrowed her eyes at her and said, “You could try to look like you’re going to have a good time.”

  Jen offered a faint smile. “This isn’t something I’m used to doing.”

  The pretty redhead looked scandalized. “Are you serious? Sephora is like Mecca. Next you’re going to say you don’t like chocolate.” Jen didn’t answer and Nicole’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

  Jen couldn’t help but laugh. “I like it, it’s just not a need.”

  “Are you sure you’re a girl? I mean, you’re not crazy about Sephora and you don’t have an emergency supply of chocolate.”

  Jen laughed. “Last time I checked, anyway.”

  Laura, who’d been digging through her purse for lip gloss, finally looked up at them with a smile. “So, what’s first, faces or toes or undies?”

  “Did you really just call them undies? What are you, four?” Nicole raised her hand. “I’m voting faces. I need a new look, especially now that I’m home more with Vic.” She rolled her eyes. “He keeps threatening to trade me in for two twenty-two-year-olds.”

  Jen gaped, shocked and certain that Vic Carponti had indeed said these exact words. To his wife. “That’s awful.”

  “Like any twenty-year-old would want him,” Nicole said, with a laugh.

  “Yeah, well, at least he’s home,” Jen said. “How are you holding up, though?” She threaded her arms into both Nicole and Laura’s, and let herself be led into Sephora.

  “I’m okay. I think if Vic were taking things worse, I would be, too, but he’s hanging in there.” She quirked a smile. “He says that it sucks, but at least he still has the rest of the equipment he needs. Oh, shiny.” Nicole broke away, plucking a shimmery gold nail polish from a display.

  Jen decided she didn’t really want to know just what other equipment Vic might have mentioned. She eased into the mood of the moment and relaxed with her friends as they each had makeup applied. There was pleasure enough in watching them enjoy themselves, and it was fun to see them transformed beneath the skilled hands of the makeup artist. But her thoughts kept drifting an hour down the road to a hospital bed back at Fort Hood. She needed perspective on all things Shane. She’d wanted to go in and check on him, but she’d forced herself to stay away. It didn’t hurt that she’d been attending a conference at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio for the past week, too.

  That didn’t stop her from thinking about him, though. Or remembering the strength in his touch. Every time she stared into those dark grey eyes, she felt a warmth twine through her veins, making her achy. Needy. Making her want something far, far out of reach.

  “Your turn. Shelly is doing your makeup.” Laura gripped Jen’s hand and tugged her toward the hot seat.

  Jen pulled back. “Really, I’m fine. New makeup isn’t in my budget.”

  “Oh bull. You do nothing but work at the hospital. You’re getting a new look if I have to hold a gun to your head.”

  “I have a hard enough time keeping my patients from pledging their undying devotion without walking in looking like I’m ready for a TV spot,” Jen said with a smile. She didn’t need new makeup, didn’t want it.

  “What are you talking about?” Laura asked, as she pushed Jen into the chair. Shelly, a cute girl with a blond pixie haircut and in a black smock, immediately began removing the little makeup Jen did have on. Shelly’s makeup was tasteful, not overdone, and she hoped she’d keep a light hand with Jen’s new look.

  “Nothing,” Jen replied. “It’s just that sometimes, some of the patients get nursing mixed up with stronger emotions.”

  “Like …?” Nicole urged, leaning over Laura’s shoulder to spread a pale coral gloss over her lips.

  “Like one guy offered to marry me. This was after I changed his bedpan for two months running.”

  Nicole covered her smile with her hand. “Are you serious?”

  “Honey, being a nurse is nowhere near as glamorous as it looks on soap operas. Bedpans are not sexy.”

  “That’s all I need to know,” Nicole said, before vanishing down an aisle of bright eye shadows.

  Laura stayed where she was, and watched Shelly work. “You need to do girl stuff like this more often,” she said twirling a new lip gloss between her fingers.

  “For who?”

  “For you.”

  Jen swallowed, then rolled her eyes to the ceiling as Shelly patted concealer beneath them. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  She barely saw Laura move but the next instant, her longtime friend was standing right behind her, looking intently at her reflection in the mirror. “That scar is not who you are.”

  “Can we change the subject away from my boobs, please? What prompted this spending spree, anyway?”

  “Nicole needed to get away from Vic for a little bit. She’s trying so hard to hold it together for him, she’s not taking care of herself.” Laura shook her head before she backed away, pulling a tester tube of dark red lipstick from a display and running it over the tip of her middle finger. “This color is called Harlot. Really?”

  “I thought Vic was doing okay?”

  Laura smoothed the wine-red color over her lips, rubbing them together as Nicole disappeared down another aisle, cradling at least twelve different-colored boxes in her arms. Laura waited until she’d vanished again then swiped a Q-tip across the tip of another tube. “You’re the trauma expert. You tell me if he should be acting like there’s nothing wrong with him after losing an arm.”

  “Maybe he really is doing okay,” Jen suggested. She closed her eyes as a brush descended toward her eyelids. She knew how she’d reacted to losing a piece of herself. But was her reaction the norm, or was it an example of what not to do? Maybe Carponti had really adjusted to his new reality and had chosen to get on with it. Maybe instead of worrying about his nonreaction, Nicole should have been grateful he’d moved on to the next phase of his life with little difficulty. Did Vic Carponti know more than she did about getting on with life after a serious injury—even t
hough his was so fresh that it still required bandages?

  “What do you think?”

  She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror to examine Shelly’s handiwork. Light gold dusted her eyes, now lined with soft brown. She smiled and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she liked what she saw.

  Maybe it was time she took a play from the book of Carponti and embraced the life she had.

  * * *

  “I hear you’re harassing the hospital staff,” Randall said by way of greeting.

  “Nice to see you, too.” Shane was never in the mood to deal with this particular lieutenant, but today, his tolerance was at an all-time low. He had a hard enough time maintaining his military bearing around Randall when he wasn’t immobilized in a hospital bed. Seeing the man plucked a cord on Shane’s last nerve. He glanced down at the IV in his arm and wondered briefly if he could get some additional morphine so that he could punch the little prick and later claim that he’d been under the influence. Course, that would involve Randall coming close enough for Shane to reach him, and then standing still long enough for Shane’s one working fist to connect. He almost laughed at the direction of his thoughts. Carponti would be proud.

  “So I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Randall said, walking in like he owned the room. Shane prayed for patience. Or divine intervention. He wasn’t in a position to be picky.

  “Enlighten me.”

  Randall ran his tongue over his teeth before he pulled out that damned clipboard of his from beneath one arm. “Sensitive items are missing from your platoon. Since you never bothered to finish your reports, the CO sent me back to find out what happened.” Randall looked down and read off a series of serial numbers. “When is the last time you physically saw these items?”

  Anger sparked inside of Shane with each passing number. He was hurt, his men were hurt, and this arrogant son of a bitch stood here, reading off serial numbers like the equipment was the most important thing in the world. Serial numbers Shane recognized from having read them off multiple times a day every single day during the deployment. Serial numbers Shane couldn’t have cared less about at the moment. “Have you visited any of our men since you’ve been home?”