“Nothing wrong with dreams.”
“No, nothing at all,” she agreed. “So where are we sitting?”
“This way.” He secured her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her toward the big table where the other bridesmaids and groomsmen settled in.
“Do you think you could do me a favor?” she murmured.
“Anything.”
“When they pass the champagne, I don’t want any more. I’m likely to pass out on my feet.”
“Then we’ll do water together.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that. You’re here for a good time, too.”
“Oh, I’m having a great time.” And it’s only going to get better. He liked her. Fifteen minutes in her company and he wanted more. But first, they had to get through the reception and the couple’s first dance, and then he planned to sweep her onto the dance floor and get to know her better.
Chapter Two
Lillianna loved dancing, more than she cared to admit. Her escort turned out to be a great partner. Paul whirled her around the dance floor, his ability to waltz catching her off guard.
“You do this far better than I’d imagine a grunt would.”
“Thank you, lessons at the Y.” He winked and turned her again. The playful winks were a flirtatious habit, but somehow he made them charming.
“You deflect well, too.” She kept her hand on his exquisitely hard shoulder beneath the uniform, intimately aware of his hand heating her back where it rested.
The amusement in his eyes belied his frown. “I’m not deflecting. I really did learn to waltz at the Y from Mrs. Carter.”
She raised her eyebrows in silent question, following his sweeping steps as he kept them moving in and around the other couples dancing.
“You want a confession, I see.” His generous mouth spread into a beautiful smile. “Let me buy you a drink?”
“From the very open bar?” She couldn’t resist teasing him.
“Yes, from the very open bar. I will buy you a very large glass of water, and if you’re very nice, I’ll throw in some of those hot cappuccinos I can smell them serving.” He guided them to the edge of the dance floor and offered his arm.
The man must have been born with manners. He exuded propriety and politeness. A nice change of pace from the ER doctors and interns who often didn’t have time for a hello, much less anything else. They were all orders on the go, and silence when they hurried elsewhere.
“Well, it sounds like it pays to be really nice.” Their empty table waited, with much of the bridal party either dancing or chatting with others. She sat gratefully. The silver shoes went beautifully with the jewelry and complemented her dress, but they were hell on her toes.
“Sit tight. I’ll get you the cappuccino and the water….” He paused mid-step and nodded to her feet. “Take the shoes off, wiggle your toes. The cold floor will ease the ache.”
And he apparently missed nothing. Her face warmed, but she kept a game smile in place. He disappeared in search of the drinks. Taking advantage of the alone time, she slid first one and then the other of her shoes off. The ache in her toes and arches spread as the blood rushed to her feet. She stretched her legs and flattened her feet against the hard tile. The coolness definitely helped and it served to wake her sleepy mind. Good food, good champagne, good dancing, and God help her, good company relaxed her more than a lullaby.
Uniforms filled the room, but there were easily as many—if not more—civilians. A number of jackets were left to hang on the back of chairs as the dancing increased. The music shifted tempo and the waltz gave way to a far hipper tune that required a lot more bopping than she was up to.
They’d sat just in time to keep her from embarrassing herself.
“You look like you’re feeling better.” Paul set a tall, steaming mug of the frothy coffee in front of her.
The combination of his nearness and the sweet scent of the coffee coaxed another smile. “I do feel better. Good plan about the shoes. I knew cool floors helped cramps, didn’t occur to me that they would help sore feet.” She sipped the coffee and sighed happily. “Okay, so thank you for the suggestion and the cap. Now you were going to tell me a story.”
“Darn, and here I hoped you’d forgotten about that.” The ‘aw shucks’ demeanor didn’t wear well on him, but the amused grin did.
“No such luck.” She propped her chin in her hand and stared at him until he hooked his chair closer. The great thing about Paul was his absolute focus on her despite the huge party playing out all around them.
“I wasn’t always a Marine.” Hell of a place for him to begin his story.
She laughed.
“What?” Mock surprise filled his expression. “This shocks you?”
“No one is born a Marine. But please continue.”
He chuckled and sipped his coffee, skipping alcohol right along with her. In fact, he hadn’t touched more than a couple of sips during the toasts before setting his glass aside. More of his gentlemanly behavior or a dislike of the drink?
Curiousier and curiouser.
“As I was saying, I didn’t grow up Marine. In fact, my father worked in a bodega for most of his teenage years and met my mother at school. Well, teens being teens, I was one of those babies born before they graduated. But they got married, raised me the best they could and I have three younger brothers, just like me. So they did something right.” Another flash of his easy grin and Lillianna had to look away, smiling until her cheeks ached.
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”
“No?” He tapped the back of her hand, a fleeting caress that sent her pulse rabbiting.
“No, I don’t know if the world is really ready for four of you.”
“They do okay. I got most of the handsome and all of the charm.”
The effortless delivery killed her. She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed until tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “And none of the modesty, I take it?” she managed, her mirth barely under control.
“Modesty? What is this modesty you speak of?” He rubbed his chin and squinted as though truly puzzled.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Good-looking. Funny as hell. Thoughtful. Good dancer. I so need to run away now…. But she didn’t move, because she was tired—or at least that’s what she told herself. “So your parents were high school sweethearts.”
“Yeah, they didn’t have much, but not many of the families in our neighborhood did. One of the last urban holdouts where your neighbors knew you and looked after you just like your parents did. Not the postage stamp yard surrounded by white picket fences, but we knew it didn’t matter if Mami or Papi weren’t there to see us, Mrs. Guitterez or Mr. Martinez, they would whoop us good and then tell Mami and Papi.” Another easy grin. He obviously enjoyed the childhood memories.
“But you still managed to find trouble.”
“A little here, a little there.” Paul stretched his arm along the back of her chair, comfortable and intimate. “Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a lot of hard work and my papi glaring at me.” His smile dimmed. “At least ’til I turned sixteen. Started running with a crew that wasn’t anything but trouble. I thought it made me cool. Because, when you’re sixteen….”
“Stupid is cool.” She raised her hand and wiggled her gloved fingers. “Hot-wired my first jeep at sixteen. Would have done it at fifteen, but I accidentally ripped all the wires out instead of stripping them.”
He laughed. “Exactly. Small time stuff, shoplifting a beer because we wanted to drink it, or grabbing some snacks. Started at my dad’s bodega and, well one thing led to another and I began boosting cars before my senior year. Told myself it was a nest egg, didn’t want to be my papi, get some girl pregnant and be stuck raising the kids.”
Lillianna winced.
“Trust me, I was the punk, not Papi. I thought I knew everything. Didn’t work out—because stupid doesn’t usually pay off. In this case, it failed spectacularly. We wer
e boosting a car, me and my crew, and a guy tried to stop us. A couple of the others panicked and beat him. We were all arrested for assault and I had to sit there in a cell and wait for my papi to come and bail me out.”
The fun of the evening drifted by and her heart squeezed for him. Even under the best of circumstances, that couldn’t have been pleasant.
“Anyway, Papi didn’t come that night, he let me stay in jail until my hearing. He did come to see me the next day and told me if I wanted to behave like a man with no respect for the rules, then I needed to learn what it meant to be one. He also brought Mrs. Carter. She worked at our community center and told me she’d made a deal with the judge and I had to do community service. But I was almost eighteen, if I didn’t get it together, that cell was my future.”
“And you obviously got it together.”
“I think so. Mrs. Carter brought me lots of options and introduced me and my crew to a recruiter. He was toughest guy I ever met. I enlisted the day after I graduated. Had to make sure that my record stayed clean and Sergeant Tommy had to vouch for me, but I made it in. And here I am.”
She eyed the chevrons on his rank insignia. “A sergeant yourself—Master Sergeant?”
“Master Sergeant.” He inclined his head. “Good eye. Military brat?”
“Oh, yeah.” Not her favorite subject, but she dialed back her natural reticence. He’d shared something personal and managed to be funny. She didn’t need to let her inner bitch out to play, tired or not. “Army.”
“Dad, right?”
“Right again. Am I that obvious?”
“No.” He twisted the cappuccino cup around on the table, turning it in circles. “You don’t seem that comfortable with the uniform and you’re second-guessing yourself. My papi can still do that to me even if I’m standing in front of him in full dress blues.”
She appreciated that. Lifting her cup, she eyed his. “To stern father figures and the impressions they leave behind.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He clinked his coffee cup to hers. The music changed again, the fun and bubbly taking over the dance floor. “You up for another spin?”
She glanced at her shoes with a grimace.
Paul pushed his chair back and nudged her shoes under the table. “Leave them. You don’t need them and you’ll have more fun.”
He held out his hand and she drained her coffee and put it aside, before letting him help her rise. The respite worked, she had a second—or maybe her twenty-second wind. “I love that you love to dance.” I’m not falling for him, we’re just having fun.
“Well, I definitely love dancing with you.” He tugged her with him and she laughed at his hip-shaking motion to the beat. It didn’t occur to her until he said that but he hadn’t danced with anyone else.
Not even the bride and there was still a line of Marines taking turns dancing with Rebecca.
Paul spun and caught her around the waist, pulling her close until they were swaying together.
Do not fall for him. Do not fall for him. Do not fall for him.
***
“Congrats, Captain,” Paul gave Luke a firm handshake and clapped him on his shoulder. “Brody sent his regards, said he was sorry as hell to miss you letting the past catch you.” The lieutenant demanded Paul memorize the message when he got word that the Master Sergeant would make the wedding.
Luke snorted. “All I had to do to let it catch me was stop running. How about you? We haven’t had a lot of time to talk. When do you leave for your next deployment?”
“Three days. Not a hell of a lot of turnaround. But it’s Germany, so a virtual vacation.” Turning around, he leaned against the bar, sipping a second cappuccino. His gaze tracked Lillianna where she and the other bridesmaids clustered around Rebecca. Luke’s blushing bride held onto Lillianna’s hand, chattering animatedly.
“Intelligence training?”
“Something like that. What do you know about Lillianna?” He enjoyed the hell out of her company, so much so, he itched to liberate her from the girl talk and dance again.
“She was Becca’s roommate in college and she doesn’t like me.” The captain chuckled. “I don’t mind, she’s got the right. I acted like a dick and she holds me responsible for my actions.”
“You tell her that?” Tough. Beautiful. Loving. Lillianna looked better and better.
“I’m thinking accepting her disapproval and not making waves for Becca with her friend is the least I can do. In thirty or forty years, she can forgive me after I prove I’m worth it for Becca.” The man had that rare look on his face—bliss.
“Fair enough.”
“Captain.” Logan arrived and slung an arm around Luke’s shoulders. Zach appeared, along with their wife—two men, one wife—not Paul’s idea of a marriage, but whatever worked. Next came James, Damon, Matt and about ten others Paul didn’t know on sight.
“We, the married, want to welcome you to the club.” Zach grinned. “We’re also here with your deployment orders.”
Luke’s brows climbed and Paul hid a smile of his own. This particular surprise he did know about. From the squeal of laughter across the room, the bridesmaids had delivered their present to the bride.
“Deployment orders?” Luke set his drink on the bar and eyed his men. Logan held an envelope out.
“Travel arrangements, Captain. Your gear is packed and waiting in the limo. Lauren took care of Mrs. Dexter’s supplies; Zach and I took care of yours. What you have in your hand are airplane tickets and itinerary for three weeks in Cabo. You, your bride, sunshine and sand.” Logan’s wide smile held pride.
“As for the orders,” James interrupted, “No thinking about Mike’s Place, no worrying about meetings, supplies, duty rosters or patient rotations. The seven of us can do that job. You and Rebecca haven’t taken more than a weekend off together since you found each other again. This is her time—and yours. We appreciate your service….”
Luke didn’t say anything for the longest moment, and stared not at his men, but at the envelope. “I have no words.”
“You don’t need them, sir.” Matt spoke up. “Of all of us, I think I can say it best. You’ve given us a place and a welcome, and you’ve had our backs every step of the way. This is the least we could do.”
Gripping each man’s hand in a quick, hard handshake and blinking back what suspiciously appeared to be tears, Luke took Matt’s advice to heart and said nothing. Shaking Paul’s hand last, the captain cleared his throat. “All right. Well, try not to burn the place down, and whatever you do, don’t rearrange Becca’s carefully planned calendar.”
“Oh, hell no,” Jazz murmured and the rest laughed.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to go kidnap my bride. We have orders.” He strode away and they all paused to watch him sweep Rebecca up in his arms and they were off.
“Damn. Did not have to tell him twice.” Damon gestured for the bartender to bring refills for everyone.
“No. He wanted to give her a big honeymoon, but they’re both wildly invested here. Hard to plan to be away when it means leaving work unfinished.” James accepted his drink. “One for me, and then I’m going to wrap this up. Damon, you’re in charge of the rest of the reception, make sure cleanup gets handled. Matt, if you and Naomi don’t mind taking care of the band. Logan, you and Jazz will be handling the exit interviews this week for anyone checking out. Zach, you get entrance….” The conversation migrated with the psychologist, but Paul didn’t listen.
With Rebecca’s departure, Lillianna drifted away from the other bridesmaids—heading back to the table they’d shared earlier. She moved with purpose. Abandoning his coffee, he followed. Over the last few years, he’d gone through women like an alcoholic through a case of schnapps.
Lillianna was single malt scotch.
And damn if he wasn’t in the mood for that.
By the time he reached the table, she stared at her shoes with a grimace.
“Need a ride home?” he murmured.
“You don’t give up, do you?” Laughter and fatigue twined in her voice, giving her a husky quality. Would she sound that way in bed, well-pleasured and languid? His body tightened at the mental image.
“No, ma’am. I do not.” No sense in denying it. “You’re one hell of an attractive woman, you’re funny, you’re smart…and you haven’t said anything about there being a man in your life. So would I be stepping on any toes?” Say no.
“Paul, you’re a nice guy, but….”
“No nice guy speeches.” He frowned. “They cut a man off at the ego.”
Her snort of laughter entertained him. “I think your ego would survive.”
“Maybe.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “And if you abandon me, it means I don’t have a good excuse to leave early.” So close, the sweet scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils. She really was lovely, exceptionally lovely, and her eyes were softer brown, with just the hint of gold. Or maybe they simply reflected the lighting. But between her rich cocoa skin and faintly golden eyes, she looked like an African goddess and he wanted to be her supplicant.
Pursing her lips, she glared at him. “Are you playing me?”
“Not at all. If I wanted to play you, I’d make a lot of excuses to get into your pants.” He raked her form with an appreciative gaze. She really looked spectacular in the dress. “But I’m honest in my intentions. Do I want to take you to bed? Absolutely. Am I planning to push my luck or trick you into my bed? Not a chance. When you ask me—and yes, you’re going to ask me—you’ll want it as much as I do.” This close, he enjoyed the way her pupils dilated and her swift inhalation.
“Bold.”
“It doesn’t always pay to be subtle.” Tempted beyond reason to kiss her, he reached down to retrieve her shoes. “So what’s it going to be, Cinderella? Do you want to turn into a pumpkin or would you let me sweep you off your feet?”
Hesitation seemed to roll off her in waves. Tempting, aren’t I? He edged a little closer, imagining the invisible barrier around her evaporating. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”
Marine Ever After (Always a Marine) Page 2