by Karen Foley
“So does this mean I’m not getting my story about the rescue?” Lauren asked.
“I’ll get you a story,” Sara promised. “Just not the one you were looking for.”
She closed her cell phone and considered Rafe. He leaned back against the luxurious seat, looking every inch a dark, sexy playboy in his disheveled tuxedo.
“I heard most of that,” he admitted.
Sara sighed. “I still can’t quite believe it. I’ll give her one last story, but then I’m done with the magazine.”
Rafe frowned. “Are you sure? What will you do?”
Sara smiled and leaned forward, placing her hands on his strong thighs. “Oh, I have a few ideas.” She slid her hands higher, closing the small distance between them. Climbing onto the seat, she scooted forward until her knees bracketed his legs and she could kneel upright and thread her fingers into his hair.
Rafe smiled lazily into her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“I was just thinking that you could help me fulfill another one of my fantasies.”
“I think we may already have explored this one,” he said huskily.
“Mmm. But not in a limousine.”
His eyes darkened and his hands slid under the hem of her dress, sliding up to smooth over her buttocks. “You’re wearing a thong,” he groaned. “I didn’t know you even owned a thong.”
She smiled and lowered her mouth to his, her breathing quickening as he pushed the flimsy material to one side. “A girl has to have a few secrets. And this is a really great fantasy, but it’s not the fantasy I was referring to.”
“No?”
“Nope. You’re my fantasy,” she breathed. “Being with you is my fantasy. Loving you is my fantasy.”
Rafe looked at her, his expression soft and sexy. “That’s an easy one to fulfill,” he rasped, “because you’re my fantasy, too.”
Epilogue
Two months later
IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT. Sara didn’t know how long she’d been curled up on her sofa, staring dreamily at the multicolored lights on her small Christmas tree. But she knew if she didn’t get to bed soon, she’d regret it in the morning. Tomorrow was a big day, and she needed all the sleep she could get. Standing up, she stretched and was about to pad across her small apartment to turn off the lights when someone knocked softly on her apartment door, causing her to jump.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me,” came the deep response.
With her heart leaping in her chest, Sara unbolted the door and flung it wide, drinking in the sight of the man who stood in the hallway. He’d only been gone a month, but it felt like much longer. He’d spent the past four weeks training in North Carolina, and although they had talked to each other nearly every day, Sara had missed him.
“Rafe.” He wore his Marine Corps dress blues and carried a duffel bag in one hand. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Her hand flew self-consciously to her hair, and then to her pajama top. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have worn something…hot.”
With a soft laugh, Rafe stepped into her apartment and dropped his duffel onto the floor before he drew her into his arms. His uniform still carried the chill of outdoors and Sara shivered as she wreathed her arms around his neck. “You do look hot. And I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to see you. To be with you.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, pressing kisses against his jaw, his neck and his lips. “I would have come to the airport to get you.”
“I didn’t call because I wanted to find you exactly like this,” he growled, hauling her close and capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. “Warm and soft and welcoming.”
“Mmm. I was just going to bed.”
“Then my timing is perfect.”
Before Sara could protest, he lifted her in his arms. She gave a startled laugh of surprise and clutched him around his shoulders, deciding she didn’t really need to sleep, after all. Rafe strode toward her bedroom, then paused. Sara twisted in his arms to see what he was looking at and her gaze fell on the most recent issue of American Man magazine. On the cover was a picture of Corporal Shay Riordan surrounded by other injured soldiers. Behind them was the Walter Reed hospital. The caption beside the photo read, True Blue American Heroes.
Sara had written a story that focused on Shay’s heroism and the Semper Fi Fund’s efforts to support the men and women recuperating at the hospital. She had emphasized the need for the public to do the same as a way to thank the soldiers who had given so much. Already, donations to the Fund were pouring in, and the hospital had reported a surge in visitors, including celebrities and people who wanted to help.
“Did I thank you yet for doing the story on the Semper Fi Fund?” he asked. “And not on the rescue mission in Pakistan?”
“I think so,” she said, “but it definitely bears repeating. Everyone is entitled to keep a secret or two. And yours are safe with me.”
Rafe carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, following closely with the length of his body against hers. “I have a whole new appreciation for the benefits of the media,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss the soft swell of her breast above her camisole top. “Why didn’t you tell me today was your last at the magazine?”
Sara rolled her head on the covers and looked at him with amusement. “Because I knew you probably already knew. And I was right. When did you find out?”
Rafe kicked his shoes off and propped himself on one elbow as he smoothed his hand over her body. “Just last week. So what will you do now?”
Sara rolled toward him, hitching a thigh across his hips and drawing his head down for a deep kiss. “I was offered a job as a staff reporter for the Washington Post, courtesy of Diane Zachary. And that was after her husband was caught in a compromising situation with a White House intern. He has a press conference scheduled later this week to publicly apologize, and to formally withdraw his bid for the Presidency.”
Rafe gave a huff of laughter. “No shit. I wonder if Diane will be at his side when he makes the announcement. Are you going to take the job?”
“Absolutely not. I think it’s clear I’m not cut out to be an investigative reporter. I found a job writing for a women’s magazine, instead. I really like the editor and I think it’s going to be a good match.”
“Congratulations. What did Lauren have to say?”
“She gave me a good recommendation, and said that if I ever want my old job back, she’d hire me in a heartbeat.”
Rafe laughed softly and pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder. “I have some news that I was going to save until tomorrow, but since we’re sharing secrets, I may as well tell you now.”
Sara waited expectantly, unable to tell from his expression if she was going to welcome the news or not.
“I’ve accepted an assignment as a military strategist at the Pentagon. I report for duty right after the holidays.”
“Rafe.” Sara stared at him, too overcome to say anything else, but the implications weren’t lost on her. He wouldn’t return to Afghanistan or Pakistan. His life would no longer be in danger. He wouldn’t have to leave her again. She buried her face against his shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.
“Hey,” he said gently, tipping her face up. “Are you crying? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am,” she assured him, swiping at her damp cheeks. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I don’t have to worry about your safety anymore.”
“Better yet, I’ll be right here with you, which means I won’t need to worry about your safety anymore, either.”
Sara wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer. “I’m so happy. You see, I may need you around to help me fulfill my remaining fantasies.”
Rafe groaned and hauled her closer. “Sweetheart, I am definitely the man for the job. Let me show you…”
It turned out, Sara thought happily, that all of the be
st things happened after midnight.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1402-6
DEVIL IN DRESS BLUES
Copyright © 2011 by Karen Foley
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