Josh’s smile fled. “Mandy.” He dropped the suitcase and took a quick step back. “I’ll leave.”
“No!” She flung out her hand. “No. I was just surprised to see you.”
He eyed her with concern. “You’re sure?”
“Please. Please, come in.”
Still, he hesitated. “I was hoping I could buy you dinner.”
He’d come to her, she thought, putting the back of her hand to her nose to stifle a watery sob. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
They ended up ordering room service. Mandy took her suitcase into the bathroom and slipped into a slightly wrinkled but very pretty organza sundress that was halter-styled and sported flirty ruffles at the knee-length hem. Wearing it, she felt feminine and even more so when she found he’d included her make-up bag. She was able to darken her lashes and smooth on her favorite lipstick. Her small bottle of perfume was intact and she dabbed on drops of that, too.
The result was worth the effort. Josh’s eyes widened as she slipped into the main room. “You look beautiful,” he said. “And you smell great.”
“Thank you. A step up from plaster dust and desperation, huh?”
He shook his head. “You weren’t desperate. You were handling yourself very well.”
They stared at each other again, that palpable pull between them running as strong as the day before. One summer, Mandy had been caught in an ocean undertow. This was like that—a current more powerful than her strength and her will was carrying her toward this man. “Josh,” she whispered, her heart aching with bittersweet yearning.
His eyes closed for a moment. “I know—”
Knuckles rapped on the hotel room door. They both started, and then Josh moved to the entry to allow in the room service cart. The waiter set it on the balcony outside her 31st-floor room. Dusk was falling and the air was warm but not unbearably humid. They feasted on a beans and rice dish, fresh fish, and a delicious concoction of corn-based dough, meat, vegetables, and spices wrapped in plantain leaves. For dessert, there were slices of tropical fruit.
Realizing she hadn’t eaten much since the morning before, Mandy ate heartily. She felt greedy, storing up the moments with Josh sitting across her table. Her leg accidentally bumped his, and he captured it between his knees, a gentle clasp that sent her pulse soaring and her skin flushing warm.
She’d never expected to feel this happy again. And she’d never felt as happy as she’d been the day before. His voice echoed in her head then, the SEAL motto. The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday. It was so easy, so right, when the two of them were together.
At full dark, he wheeled the cart through the doors to her room and then out into the hall. They returned to the balcony, sitting in side-by-side chairs as they watched the bright lights of the city twinkle like holiday glitter in the darkness. “We’re officially in the Christmas season,” she said. “Where will you be on the 25th?”
“I’m based in San Diego,” he replied. “It’s where my family lives too.”
She shot him a quick glance. “That’s not far from L.A.”
“You’re right.” He reached over and took her hand. Bending his head, he studied it like a precious object, stroking the palm, curling each finger then straightening it again.
A shiver rolled up the inside of her arm, and a voice whispered in her ear. You could have a long-distance romance. It’s not even a “long” distance. If you drove south and he drove north, you’d meet within an hour.
It wouldn’t last, of course, because she wanted to have that home-every-night guy. All her life she’d wished for that, but she could have Josh for a little while. Maybe a not-so-little while.
“The thing is, Mandy,” he said now, running the back of her hand against the clean-shaven surface of his warm cheek, “I don’t know when I’ll be returning to California. We go wheels up again tomorrow. No return date guaranteed.”
She could only have him tonight.
It made what came next simple—as simple as surrendering to that ocean current. She was ready to drown in Josh. Mandy stood, and he did too, and then they were kissing, sweet and gentle at first, hard and demanding soon after. He lifted her into his arms and she curled hers around his neck, their mouths still discovering all the delicious ways they could fit as he carried her to the bed.
He placed her there, and she watched through half-closed eyes as he drew the drapes and left just one light burning in the room. Then he sat on the mattress and cupped her face between his warrior’s hands. His forehead touched hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She pulled him down so his weight was on top of her, so wonderful to wriggle against. Her smile bloomed when she heard him groan. “You’re sure too?”
His mouth trailed a hot, shivery path down her neck. “I’ve rarely been as certain of anything in my life.”
Her hands yanked the tail of his shirt from his pants and she caressed the hot skin of his back, delighted at his shuddering response. In efficient moves, he shucked his clothes and then took a long time with hers, all two pieces, dress and panties. He kissed every inch of skin beneath the fabric, pushing it up, rolling it down, sliding it aside, until she was trembling and panting and still completely clothed.
It made her squirm even more, until he threw a leg over her thighs and kissed her pliant again, her skin throbbing with sensitivity, her mind dazed by lust. Then, finally, he removed her dress, making a big show of sliding the tickling ruffles at the hem over her twitching belly and berry-tight nipples. He ran his tongue along all the bared flesh, until she caught his head and drew it to one breast. He sucked strongly, and she rose into the hand wandering toward the apex of her thighs.
She sighed in agitated relief as he drew her panties down her legs. But his exploring mouth was still set on torture and she was begging for a surer touch than his teasing tongue. His fingers found her where she wanted him most, and pleasure rose in tornado spirals inside her, until it took off like a top, skittering bliss through her body in dizzy, delicious revolutions. Then he was right where she needed him, his condom-covered erection opening her, taking her, coming inside, shifting out, coming back in. Retreating and then returning, retreating and then returning, until his mouth fastened on hers, and he surged one last time and she clasped him to her, wishing this night could go on forever.
He had to leave by midnight, his orders requiring him to have himself and his gear ready for departure by two a.m. Dressed once more, he again sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the covers, tucking them around her shoulders. His expression was set, his mouth tight as he smoothed her hair from her face. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally confessed. “I don’t know what I can change.”
“Nothing,” Mandy said, cupping his now whisker-gritted cheek in her palm. “I’m so proud of what you do. I’m so honored to know you.”
“It’s what I am.”
“So we have nothing to regret. I know I don’t.” She tried smiling. “Someday I’ll tell my grandchildren I shagged a Navy SEAL.”
His gaze flew to hers. “What we did . . . that’s private.”
“I was teasing.” It had been the most intimate act ever. “I’ll never forget you.”
“Mandy . . . ” He looked away from her again. “Will you give me your email address? I know you want something different for your life, so I won’t use it. But I’d like to pass it to my mom, in case—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say anything like that,” she said, her chest tightening.
“Just give me your address. Please.”
And so Mandy did.
She heard nothing for weeks. Back in L.A., she scoured the newspapers and trolled the internet, trying to imagine what hot spot he might be in. She read blogs written by military families, and once she happened upon a group of military wives having coffee at her local Starbucks. She sat nearby, long after her latté was gone, listening to them share their burdens. Listening to the yearning in the voices of the women whose husbands were d
eployed. She knew the taste, the sound, the physical presence of that longing, because it accompanied her everywhere she went.
In a fit of unrequited energy, she started baking Christmas goodies, imagining what kind Josh might like. They hadn’t gotten around to discussing favorite foods, but she made peppermint brownies and peanut butter cookies topped with chocolate kisses, sugar cookies in the shape of the SEAL trident and gingerbread men covered with camouflage icing.
But her email inbox stayed empty. Finally she admitted to herself she might never know or hear more about him.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, she boxed up all the treats she’d baked and decorated, determined to take them to a homeless shelter. She didn’t have a tree or anything else festive set up, because there didn’t seem to be any sense in pretending to celebrate. Maybe in the new year she’d find some respite from the relentless ache.
With her purse under arm and her car keys in hand, she paused by her laptop to check her email. Her inbox had a new addition. Subject line: From Josh’s mom. Finger poised to open it, Mandy froze. What had he said? I’d like to give it to my mom, in case—
Was this bad news? No, she wouldn’t believe that. She couldn’t. Her hands shaking, she managed to press the button and the text flashed onto the screen. Moaning, she dropped her purse and slid into the chair by the desk.
He was all right. Though Josh had told his mother to contact Mandy only if there was an emergency, she’d decided to take the maternal prerogative. In case Mandy was interested, he’d be arriving on a commercial flight at the San Diego airport just before midnight.
Josh Frye couldn’t calculate how many hours he’d been in transit. His team had scattered once they’d hit the States, most everyone heading for a few days with family. As he walked up the jetway he rubbed his gritty eyes, then rubbed them again as he rode down the escalator to baggage claim and the exit to the taxi stand. As he stepped onto solid ground, he heard his name.
“Mom,” he said turning toward her. “Hey. Hey, Dad. I told you guys I’d visit in the morning. You didn’t need to come tonight.” He checked his watch, which he’d already changed to local time. “It’s almost midnight.”
His mother wore a blinking, “I’M VERY MERRY,” pin on her red sweater. He had to grin at that, and at just how like herself she looked in her dark jeans and red suede boots. Always the fashionista. He hugged both her and his father, admitting to himself he was glad they’d come. It was a needed distraction. The long flights home he’d only had a single thing on his mind . . . that once he landed he’d be so maddeningly close to Mandy.
“There’s someone else who came to greet you,” his father said, his voice strangely gruff.
Josh looked around. “Don’t tell me my lazy-ass brother bothered to . . . ” The rest of the words were swallowed by his surprise. He only managed to mouth her name. Mandy. Mandy.
Five feet away, she stood, three pink bakery boxes stacked in her arms. Her honey hair was longer, her face thinner, but a smile curved her beautiful lips. With slow movements, he slipped the strap of his duffel bag from over his shoulder and let it fall to the ground. Then he took a step forward, freezing again as tears filled her eyes. They were a startling blue, made only brighter by those unnerving tears.
Josh’s mother poked his back, a little too reminiscent of those months he’d taken dance lessons at Mr. Xavier’s Academy with the rest of his fifth grade classmates. The moms always had been forced to prod their sons to request a dance. “I can handle this, Mom,” he murmured to her now. This was nothing like asking Tanya with the training bra to fox trot around the room to Moon River.
This was Mandy, and what he wanted from her was so much more than just one dance.
This time it was she who took a forward step. “You’re here,” she said, gesturing with the boxes, then looked down as if she’d forgotten them. “I’ve been baking for you,” she explained with a rueful laugh. “For weeks.”
For weeks. When he’d supposed she’d been spending that same time forgetting about him. He felt his smile crease the sunburned skin of his cheeks. “That so?”
“Let me get those for you,” Josh’s mom said, bustling over to take the boxes from Mandy.
Josh didn’t look away from the face of the woman he wanted with all his soul. “Those are mine, Dad,” he called. “No sneaking any.”
“Just one,” his dad grumbled. “C’mon, it’s Christmas.”
Mandy laughed, and Josh took that as the signal that she was ready to be in his arms. He hugged her tight, closing his eyes as he swung her around, overcome with how she just . . . just fit. It had been like that since the instant he found her in her uncle’s basement. At his first glimpse of those blue eyes he’d been swamped by a wave of tenderness. Possessiveness. As a man trained to make quick decisions, wanting her for his own hadn’t come as a great shock.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered against her mouth. Because he shouldn’t take anything for granted. What he did was tough on girlfriends, spouses, and families. He understood that. He understood that his lonely Mandy might want someone who could make the kind of promises he was unable to pledge right now.
“I couldn’t stay away. I missed you.”
She lifted her mouth and they kissed, long and sweet, and God, it felt like its own vow.
“I want to be with you,” she said.
It was as if a taut line inside him finally snapped free. He yanked her close again, pressing her to his thudding heart. “Are you sure? Maybe you should take some time . . . think about it.” Then he glanced down at her, grinning. “I’ll give you until tomorrow.”
Mandy pulled back to grab his wrist and check the time. “It is tomorrow. And I’m sure.”
His head dropped back as he took a moment to revel in the words. Then he refocused on her, lifting her chin. “What made you change your mind?”
She smiled. “Lots of things.”
“You’ll get my family, you know. They’ll be here for you, whether I’m home every day or not.”
She nodded.
“The SEAL wives are a tight group, too. You’ll have them as well.”
Her eyes sparkled and one brow rose. “Is that what I’m going to be? A SEAL wife?”
“If I have my way.”
Mandy patted his chest. “You should know that it’s the SEAL motto that really convinced me.”
“‘The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday’?” he said, puzzled. “How so?”
“Because the easy days are the yesterdays I had with you. I want as many of those as I can get.”
It sounded like some sort of twisted female logic to him, and he was sure of it when he heard his mom release a sentimental sigh behind him. Of course she was listening. Josh also heard the contented sound of his dad munching a cookie. He looked down at his love, the beginning of a new part of his life. “I think my dad is eating all the stuff you baked for me.”
She had the cutest dimple in her right cheek. “There’s more where that came from.”
“There’s more everything,” Josh promised. “I love you.”
Mandy nodded, and reached into her pocket to pull out a fat, loopy gift bow that she balanced on the top her head. “I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Josh. I’m yours.”
The words sounded like music to him, and then he realized they were. Holding her close again, he whispered into her ear. “Right back at you, sweetheart. Signed, SEALed, and delivered.”
DOG HEART
Barbara Samuel
Jessie spied the truck through the window—nothing ostentatious, just a solid, late-model truck that any number of men might drive. Like the man who stepped out of the cab now, his dark hair shorn close to his head. He was leaner than he had been five years ago, and as he rounded the truck to the other side, he limped noticeably. Her heart did a little flip-flop of . . . nervousness? Anticipation?
Marcus Stone had been the love of her life from the time they were in seventh grade until the day she finally broke it off f
ive years before, when they were twenty-two. She had, finally, started dating other men. Once in a while.
If he had called for any other reason, she would not have agreed to see him. But as he came forward, that reason came into view. Staff Sergeant Thor.
Thor had been a combat dog, attached to a SEAL unit engaged in a top secret mission in Afghanistan that had gone wrong. One SEAL had been killed, five more badly injured. Thor was one of them.
So was Marcus. Jessie put a careful box around that knowledge, set it aside. She would not be drawn in.
Instead she focused on the dog. He was a brown and gold German shepherd, mixed with a little something else because he had long hair, which had gone a little raggedy. He was the kind of dog people always wanted to approach, to pat on the head, the long dark nose and soft-looking fur drawing on some ancient need in the human spirit.
Sgt. Thor was in no mood for the hungry pats of children. He wore a harness attached to a leash gripped tightly in Marcus’s powerful hand. The dog’s shoulders were hunched warily as they began to cross the parking lot. Thor, too, limped visibly. When coaxed, he moved forward a few steps, then halted again. Marcus didn’t yank on him, just waited patiently, standing alongside, then tried to urge the canine along a little more. Thor crept forward, his entire body apprehensive—belly close to the ground, head low.
“Poor baby,” Jessie said aloud. She grabbed a bag of chicken breast tidbits off the counter, and headed outside to meet the pair. “It’s all right,” she called, coming outside. “Don’t force it. I’ll come to him.”
Marcus nodded, raising a hand in acknowledgement. “Come easy. He can get pretty aggressive if you approach too fast.”
“Got it.” Jessie knelt to bring herself to a less intimidating height. From a few feet away, she said, “Hello, Staff Sergeant Thor. Would you like a treat?” She held out her hand, palm down and offered it to the dog. He balefully looked her, then up to his handler.
Jessie steeled herself to look at him, too. Marcus was not quite six feet tall, and lean. Always the leanest, strongest guy in school. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that revealed arms that were tattooed—and scarred. White marks riddled the tanned flesh of his left forearm in arcs. His laser-blue eyes zapped her, and against her will, she felt the same old burst of love/yearning/fury.
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