Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1)

by Patty Campbell

  “Oh, I’m not wearing this thing! Char might wear it, but she’s out of her mind if she thinks I would. She knows me better than that.” He heard paper rattling. “Oh, wait a minute, there’s something else in here. OK, this is better. Not much, but better.”

  “Can I see?”

  “No! I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Her sister had bought something that had her in a total tizzy, but he’d find a way to talk her in to wearing it later.

  “Shake a leg, Danaher. I’m in a fragile state out here.”

  The minute was more like five minutes and seemed like an eternity to him. The water went on and off. The toilet flushed. A hangar scraped the back of the door. What the hell was taking her so long? The doorknob turned.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to!”

  “I’ve seen you naked, honey.”

  “Just close your eyes and stop arguing, please.”

  He crossed his arms and sighed. “OK, Miss Sunday School Teacher. They’re closed. Come out here.” The door hinges barely made a whisper.

  “OK, open them.”

  He opened his eyes, clutched at his heart, and gasped dramatically. “Your sister wants to kill me. Call a corpsman.”

  “Oh stop it! Is it too, um, daring? I feel like I should be putting out my hand and asking you for money in this getup.”

  Instead of answering, he twirled his finger in a circle. She turned slowly, the hem of the satin, leopard-print slip, trimmed with lace, barely covered her mouthwatering ass. “Look what you did to me, Danaher.” He ran a hand over the bulge in the front of his suit pants, moaned, and reached for his wallet. “How much?”

  A bright pink blush on her chest, she sauntered to him using exaggerated hip movements, her breasts swinging, and extended her hand. “Five hundred dollars. In advance.”

  He grinned. “Can I have credit for what I’ve already spent?” He pulled some bills out. “Otherwise I’ll have to owe you.”

  “People in my profession don’t extend credit, Marine. But because you’re obviously so new at this, I’ll make an exception.” She draped her arms around his neck and tilted her head for his kiss. “Just so you know, we don’t usually kiss our customers either.”

  “Where does this vast knowledge of the oldest profession come from? Is there something you should tell me?”

  Marla pressed her pelvis against his erection. “I read a lot.”

  He grabbed her bottom and kissed her until she was breathless. “I’m going to make love to you until you beg for mercy, Danaher.”

  “That’ll cost extra, Dempsey.”

  “Stay right there.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want to see what else is in that bag. I may have to run out and find an ATM.”

  “You can look, but I’m not wearing that thing.”

  He grabbed the bag and brought it to the bed. His hand closed on filmy black and white silk, lace and ruffles. When he lifted it out of the bag, he dropped his head back and hooted with glee.

  “Oh, I have plans for this, my little French Maid.” He held up a white lace cap and twirled it on his finger. “Oh, yeah. You will wear it before morning.” He took her hand. “Come here, for five hundred dollars I’m entitled to a favor.” Pulling her close, he ran his hands over her sides, back, and front, then lifted the slip over her head and dropped it on the floor.

  Eyes big, she choked out a whisper. “What?”

  “Undress me.”

  “That’s the favor?”

  “Use your imagination.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  In the middle of the night, Dwayne rolled over and laid his left arm across her stomach. For some reason she seldom noticed his two missing fingers. Sighing under his touch, she covered his hand. “How do you do it? I’m exhausted. I’m hungry.” Never having imagined what it would be like for a man to so completely overwhelm her, Marla felt like a babe in the woods.

  “Time for my next favor.” He kissed her shoulder.

  Melting with the heat of passion he’d stoked in her, she let her mental images run wild. “The price just went up, soldier.” She shifted to face him and stroked his cheek.

  “This favor’s pretty wild. Think you can do it?”

  “I doubt it, but tell me. Leave nothing out.” Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid she’d choke.

  “You’re going to get up. Put on that filmy little French Maid’s getup, and serve me crème Brulee, and you’re going to do it like the dirtiest little hooker on Sunset Boulevard.”

  She grinned, barely able to see his face in the faint city lights through the sheer curtain on the window. “I had no idea you’d spent so much time on Sunset Boulevard.”

  “I read a lot.”

  When she woke in the morning she heard the shower running. She dragged herself out of bed and took off what was left of the French Maid costume and wondered how much Char had paid for it. At least she got her sister’s money’s worth and wondered if she’d be able to crank up the courage to tell her how.

  Steam billowed from the bathroom when she opened the door. It felt wonderful on her face and body. She definitely needed a day at the spa to recover. What a good idea. She’d treat Char to the works.

  “Hand me a towel, honey. I forgot to bring one over here.”

  A huge fluffy white towel in her hand she opened the glass shower door. He swiped water off his face and smiled. When she didn’t hand him the towel, he raised his eyebrows and held out his hand.

  “In a minute. I want to enjoy the view first.”

  In answer, he stood balanced on one leg and held out his arms. Water droplets slid down his shoulders, chest, and legs. Beautiful, every inch of him, even his ruined left leg.

  Marla handed over the towel. “OK, enough for now. My turn.” She stepped aside.

  Dwayne took the towel, rubbed his head and wrapped it around his waist then with a series of hops and scoots, made it to the adjacent marble tub where he sat. “You’ll love that great shower, and best of all, I can watch.”

  He watched her for a few minutes then pulled on the thick sock that protected his stump, attached his prosthesis, and stood. “I’ll order breakfast. Don’t take too long, we have to be out of here by eleven.”

  She threw him a kiss. “Order French toast in honor of the saucy maid who gave her all.” She flashed a wicked grin then examined the shampoo bottle.

  He was on the phone when she came back to the room wrapped in a fluffy terry robe. Fully refreshed, she reveled in the afterglow of the previous night. Everything tingled and in all the right places.

  “OK, squirt, I’ll ask her. Give Grammakat a kiss and hug from me. Love you. Bye.”

  “Amber?”

  “Yep. I call her every Sunday morning. She’s having a great time with Mom, the dogs, and horses. I’ll bet she has the wranglers eating out of her hands by now.”

  “What did she want you to ask me?”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A man’s voice called, “Room service.”

  Dwayne, fully dressed, opened the door. The waiter entered, cleared the remains of their middle-of-the-night snack, ignored the satin slip on the floor, and set up their breakfast. He handed the check to Dwayne, tilted his head, and wheeled last night’s dishes to the door.

  Just before he stepped out, he smiled at Marla and winked.

  She drew in a breath. “Did you see that?”

  “Should I call the manager and have him fired?” He embraced her and kissed her on the forehead. “At least I hid the maid outfit in the shopping bag. No need to torture an innocent man.”

  “Pish, you enjoyed every minute of it, strutting around here like an Arab sheik.”

  “Yes, I did, Red. Let’s eat.” He lifted the silver cover of one of the plates. “This one’s yours.” He sat and removed the dome from the other plate to reveal a gigantic plate of roast beef hash and eggs with a mountain of country fried
potatoes. A smaller dish was piled with toasted English muffins.

  Marla leaned forward to sniff the spicy golden French toast. Half a dozen strips of crisp bacon lay alongside it. A pot of warm syrup and a small dish of sliced almonds completed the presentation. “I want to live here.”

  Halfway through breakfast she said, “Oh, you never told me how you convinced Uncle Johnny to loan you his Lincoln.”

  Dwayne’s shoulders bounced with mirth. He held up a finger, swallowed, then took a sip of coffee. “I told him I knew what he was up to and would spill it to Irene if he didn’t let me take the car.”

  “What is he up to?”

  “Damned if I know, but there must be something, because he handed over the keys without another word.”

  “I hope you take after your mother’s side of the family.”

  “And I hope you take after your father’s side of the family.”

  She grinned. “I leave Mom’s side to Charlene. They’re two peas in a pod.”

  “And a lovely pod, at that.”

  On the way back to Ventura County they passed the Getty, gleaming white on the hill above the freeway. “Have you ever been there?”

  His eyes followed her gesture. “No. Let’s do it this afternoon.”

  “We could just visit the gardens. They’re very unique and beautiful.”

  “OK, let’s do it. I’ll get off and circle back. If they have a restaurant we’ll get lunch.”

  “Oh, they do. One is a nice terrace café with beautiful views of the gardens and the city.”

  “How many times have you been there?”

  “Dozens, and it’s still not enough.”

  They strolled through the gardens hand in hand, stopping frequently to examine a certain plant or just enjoy a particularly nice spot. She noticed his limp was more pronounced than usual.

  “Is your leg hurting? Let’s sit over there in the shade and take a breather. We don’t have to do it all in one day.”

  He leaned forward and rubbed his knee. “Once in a while this thing stings like a sonuvabitch. Feels good to sit for a while.”

  “What did Amber want you ask me?”

  The stress lines on his forehead relaxed as he flexed his leg. “Oh, yeah. I’m going to the ranch when I finish the storage facility job, around the first of August. I’ll stay for about three weeks, then bring her back home before school starts. She wants you to come with me.”

  “I can’t possibly be gone for that long. I need to hustle up some real estate sales. This is the time when people with kids make plans to move. There’s not much money coming in for me until I get my building fully rented.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Have you considered a new profession? I think you have the hooker thing down pat.”

  “Shut up!” She glanced around to see if any strollers had heard. “Like I said, you have a death wish, Dempsey.” She scooted away from him.

  “Sorry, honey, I just love teasing you.” He hugged her again and kissed her cheek. “I know you can’t be away for a month, but how about a week? You could drive up with me and fly home from Sheridan. You’d love the ranch. My mom remembers you and Charlene.”

  “I’ll think about it. There’s a lot on my plate right now, a lot happening at the real estate office.” Marla’s emotions bounced like a trampoline. She loved him and wanted to be with him as much as possible, but she had a life before they became a couple. She didn’t want to lose her identity or independence.

  His sharp perception surprised her again. “Are you feeling smothered by me?”

  “No!” She shook her head, and knew her response had been suspiciously over the top. “Well, maybe a little. I’ve never been in love and I had no idea it could be so wonderful and so scary. Please don’t read more into it. I love you. I’m just…”

  He stood and took her hand. “Let’s get lunch and head home. We won’t talk about it now. Take all the time you need.”

  They made their way to the Terrace dining area and discovered it had just closed.

  “Let’s go on home, Dwayne. I can wait until we get back to Spring Grove. I’m tired.”

  * * *

  Her admission hit him like a fist in the gut. Had he gone too far, too fast? He didn’t want to lose her, but maybe she needed some space.

  He’d driven several miles when she said, “You’re very quiet. Are you mad at me?”

  “Jesus, no, honey.” He put his hand on her head and ran his fingers through her hair. He took his eyes off the road for a second and saw a tear slipping down her cheek. “Did you think I was mad at you? Please don’t cry. I have no idea what to do or say when a female cries. I love you.”

  Marla lowered her face in her hands and sobbed.

  “Oh, shit, honey, please don’t do that.” He quickly took the Sherman Way off-ramp and pulled into a Taco Bell parking lot. His stomach in knots, he turned off the ignition and gathered her into his arms. He kept his mouth shut and let her cry.

  Racked with sobs, she gasped raggedly, “I don’t know what’s wr…wrong with me. I never cry. I’m a grownup.”

  Still, he remained quiet because he was sure to say the wrong thing if he tried to comfort her. He held her as best he could with the damn console digging into his hip bone and stroked her back.

  After an eternity of him getting sicker by the minute, she wiped her face with her fingers and dropped her head against his neck. A wave of relief went through his chest when he felt her relax. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  Not sure how long they’d sat there, all he could do was wait for her to compose herself. Finally she pulled away and said, “I have to blow my nose. I need a tissue.”

  He chuckled and handed her the tail of his shirt. “This is the best I can do, honey. I can go inside and grab some napkins if you want.”

  She reached for the latch on the glove box. “Maybe John has some in here.” She shrieked and slammed back against the seat like she’d encountered a rattlesnake.

  His heart stopped for a split second. “What?”

  “There’s a gun in there.”

  “Dad has a CCP. I should have looked before I took the car.”

  “A CCP?”

  “Concealed carry permit. Don’t worry, it has a safety, you can’t fire it accidentally. Takes a lot of strength to release it.”

  She leaned into him and wiped her face on his shirttail. “Sorry. You offered.”

  “I guess I can’t complain. What say we go inside and have a cup of coffee?”

  “OK, how do I look? And don’t say beautiful!” She wiped her fingertips under her eyes and smoothed down her wild hair.

  “Like you got smacked in the kisser with a two by four. Come on, who cares?” He opened his door and stepped out. Leading with his left leg wasn’t ideal, but unless he moved to Britain, where the steering wheels were on the right side, he was stuck with the situation. He leaned in. “You coming?”

  She pushed her door open. “Yes.”

  He met her at the back of the car, took her hand, and they walked into the fast food place together.

  She smiled when he carried a tray to the table with two cups of coffee, two soft drinks, and several greasy paper bags containing tacos and burritos. “Looks like this is dinner.”

  “Looks like.” He slid onto the bench across from her and set the tray on the table.

  She leaned forward on her elbows, cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered, “Don’t let it get around, but I love their tacos.”

  He winked. “Something else we have in common. The Mexican guy who owns the Gaggin’ Wagon comes in a pretty close second.”

  “Yummy.”

  His heart bounced when she ran her left foot up the inside of his right leg. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Red.”

  “Oh, I can finish it, you common lowlife laborer.”

  When they got to her house, he asked if it was OK if he dropped her off and didn’t come inside. “I promised Dad I’d
have his car back before six.”

  “That’s fine. Charlene and I need some time to catch up before she leaves. I’ll carry my bag.”

  “Don’t you sisters talk about me.”

  “No promises.”

  “Where shall we have dinner tomorrow? My house or yours?”

  “Char and I are taking Rosie out tomorrow evening. It’ll have to be later in the week. You’re starting your new project on Tuesday, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. I’ll call you during the day Tuesday if I can find the time. First few days are pretty hectic.” He prayed she wasn’t giving him the brush-off.

  She smiled in a way that set his mind at ease. “No problem. You know where to find me, Dempsey.”

  “That I do, Danaher.” When she made a move to open her door, he grabbed her arm. “Don’t even think about leaving me without a kiss to hold me over.”

  “Never, lover man. Never.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Charlene’s car wasn’t parked in her driveway. She carried her bag to the porch, set it down, and unlocked her front door. The house was dark and quiet and the message light on the phone flashed. She closed the door, turned on the lights, and pressed the play button.

  “Hey, sis, Skipper and I are at my house. Somebody kept calling your phone and hanging up when I answered. I tried to call your cell, but you must have turned it off. There was a blue car that kept driving past the house this morning. It was creepy, so I decided to leave, call me when—”

  The message cut off. She needed to change the recording time allowed. Fifteen seconds wasn’t long enough for Charlene’s messages. Tapping *69, she waited while her phone redialed her sister’s number.

  “Charlene’s superior doggy sitting service.”

  “Hi, Char. I’m back. I’m on my way to your place. Are you going anywhere tonight?”

  “Nope. The love of my life is in San Diego, and I’m true blue. Want to have a pajama party?”