The Marine and Me

by Cathie Linz

  “Okay, I admit I may not have been thrilled to see you,” Steve admitted, “but it had nothing to do with you or how you looked.”

  “Right,” Chloe scoffed.

  “Look, I was just feeling a little…aggravated with my matchmaking grandmother for her heavy-handed attempts to hook me up with the girl next door.”

  “So you would have reacted the same way had a gorgeous lingerie model walked into your grandmother’s kitchen?”

  She had him there. And she knew it. He hated when that happened.

  That didn’t stop him from trying to defend himself. “I recognize your attack for what it is, an attempt to deflect attention from your own behavior.”

  “I behaved perfectly fine.”

  “By dressing up like a frumpy librarian?”

  “I told you, I was wearing a costume—”

  “You certainly were. And not just for that mystery thing last night. You didn’t want me to know how good-looking you really are. Why?”

  Instead of answering his question, she said, “I need more coffee. And I need to get dressed. Coffee first.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.

  “No need to do that on my account.” If he were a better man, Steve would have told her that the afghan still left a tantalizing display of her bare thighs for his appreciation. Instead he noted the way she managed to walk all uptight and offended and still be sexy.

  She removed an extra mug from the cabinet and reluctantly nudged it across the counter toward him. “I suppose you could drink a cup while I get dressed. Or you could go home….”

  “No chance of that.”

  Chloe took her coffee mug filled with coffee into her bedroom with her, no easy feat given the fact that she was still holding the afghan around her body. Fifteen minutes later, the caffeine was finally hitting her system, giving her the energy to face the sexy but exasperating Marine in her kitchen.

  She was dressed in a pair of tailored khakis and a white shirt, but she didn’t like the way she looked in the mirror above her cherry dresser. So she changed and put on a T-shirt. A plain navy one. She’d quickly run a brush through her shoulder-length hair and decided not to take the time to do more with it. Who knew what Steve might be up to in her kitchen?

  He was up to the sports section of her newspaper, calmly sitting at her kitchen table, looking as comfortable as if he’d been there every morning for the past year.

  He glanced up and then gave her a slow smile. “So you’re a Bears fan, huh?”

  It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to the nightshirt she’d worn when he’d first arrived. That’s because she was thrown by his smile and the effect it had on her. His smile was entirely too disarming. Wicked and tantalizing at the same time. Very much like the man himself, she suspected.

  She had to remind herself that this was a man accustomed to seducing women. Not that Wanda had exactly put it like that, but she’d said how “popular Steve is with the ladies.” Chloe could tell that much on her own. Steve possessed the same kind of inherent confidence that Brad had. And he was even better looking than Brad. Not a good mix.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your grandmother’s house?” she said.

  “Not until I get some answers. You still haven’t told me why you deliberately tried to deceive me.”

  “That’s rather egotistical of you. Assuming that everything revolves around you. That my behavior was a result of you.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  His directness rattled her. So did the ease with which he made himself at home in her domain. He should have looked like a bull in a china shop. But he didn’t. He fit in.

  No, stop that thought right there! Delete, delete, delete. Maybe if she answered his question, he’d leave. “Look, suffice it to say that you’re not the only one Wanda practices her matchmaking on.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Your grandmother is a sweetie, but she’s been raving about you for weeks. And when you suddenly decided to visit her during your leave, she was over the moon. She was also intent on my meeting you.”

  “And your objection to that was…?”

  “As I said earlier, I know your type.” She still stood, her hands gripping the back of the oak kitchen chair as if doing so would prevent her from something she might later regret. Grabbing him or tossing him out—she couldn’t be sure.

  “What type would that be?”

  “A player. And having just been through a bad experience with a man who informs me that it isn’t natural for a man to settle for just one woman, I wasn’t interested in being played, okay?”

  To her surprise, his expression turned serious. “Okay. I can understand that. I just came off a bad experience myself. Which is why I got so upset about you conning me.”

  “That’s not the way I’d describe it.”

  “That’s how I viewed it. You wore those clothes to keep me at bay.”

  “You’re only interested in me now because you think I look prettier than I did last night.” There, she’d said it.

  “I tried to get to know you last night, but you weren’t cooperating.”

  “You were just taking pity on the frumpy girl,” Chloe retorted. “You didn’t really mean it.” This was a sore point for her. “I’ve already been dumped by a guy who I thought was interested in me, only to find that he was merely biding his time until a prettier woman came along.”

  “Ah, betrayal. That’s something we have in common,” Steve said. “Bad luck in the romance department.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve got bad luck that way.”

  “Believe it.”

  “That’s not what your grandmother thinks. She never mentioned anything about bad luck.”

  “She doesn’t know everything, although she’d like me to think she does.”

  The devil on her right shoulder warned her that Steve could be conning her, trying to gain her sympathy. “Your grandmother is a wise woman.”

  “And a stubborn one. She’s not going to give up on getting us together, you know.”

  “That doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it.”

  “Trust me, my grandmother has a way of wearing you down,” Steve noted.

  “And I suppose you have a plan to counter that?”

  “Of course.”

  “First tell me about the woman who betrayed you.”

  It was a test. She half expected him to toss off her request with some slick response. When he hesitated, she added, “I told you what went wrong with my relationship.”

  “Yeah, you were going with a jerk.”

  That stung, indicating that her judgment where men were concerned was faulty. Which might be true, but she sure didn’t appreciate him pointing out that fact. “Don’t you have someplace else you need to be right now?”

  “No. You asked me a question, and I’m going to answer it. Want some more coffee?”

  “I can get it myself.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  “And I suppose you’d like me to pour you some more coffee while I’m at it?”

  “If you do, I’ll share these with you….” He held up a bag from a local bakery.

  “Where did those come from?”

  He read the side of the bag. “The Busy Bee Bakery.”

  “I meant how did they get here?”

  “I brought them.”

  “When?”

  “This morning.”

  “You’re telling me you went to the bakery in the fifteen minutes I took to get dressed?”

  “No.”

  She tried not to grit her teeth in frustration. “Are you always this exasperating?”

  “No, I can be much worse.”

  “That’s great to hear.”

  He held up the bag and waggled it. “So, do you want some or not?”

  “What’s in the bag?”

  If he’d said a chocolate éclair, she could have resisted the temptation. But when he said, “Brownies
,” she knew she was a goner.

  “Are you interested?” he said.

  “An even trade. A refill on your coffee for a brownie.”

  “Works for me.”

  She loosened her grip on the chair and busied herself getting plates out of the kitchen cupboard before taking the coffeepot over to the table to refill his mug. “I still don’t know how you got these here.” She pointed to the bag of brownies.

  “I carried them.”

  “When? And don’t tell me this morning unless you’re ready to suffer the consequences.”

  “I had them in my hand when I first arrived, but when you reached for me…”

  “I was reaching for the paper!” she corrected him.

  “I dropped them on your front porch.” He peered inside the bag. “Luckily they didn’t suffer from that little mishap.”

  “And you retrieved them from my porch while I was getting dressed?”

  “That’s right. Are you always this intent on solving mysteries?”

  “I like things to be in order.”

  “Marines like order, too. See, that’s something else we have in common.”

  Chloe wasn’t so easily convinced. “Before you distracted me with decadent baked goods, you were going to tell me about this romantic bad luck you had.”

  Steve wasn’t sure what to say, which wasn’t unusual for him. Confiding had never been his thing. And telling her about Gina meant telling her about his inheritance.

  Who was he kidding here? His grandmother had probably already told Chloe about the money.

  Was that why Chloe had acted the way she had? Was this all an elaborate hoax to get his attention by pretending to avoid it?

  He couldn’t help being suspicious, given his recent track record where females were concerned.

  Then his logical side reminded him that he had no intention of falling for Chloe. There was no danger of that. Sure he was a bit intrigued by her, but he was only here in Chicago for a short period of time during his leave.

  Not telling her would mean he was afraid to. So he bit the bullet and started talking. Reluctantly. In his own way and in his own time. “Well, you’ve probably heard the sad story before—poor guy inherits money and a beautiful woman cons him into thinking she’s in love with him when all she really wants is access to his bank account.”

  “Were you in love with her?”

  Love. That four-letter word that had ended up sucker punching him without warning. “I thought I was.”

  “How do you know she was only interested in your money?”

  “I don’t tell many people about it. I’m assuming my grandmother told you, right?”

  Chloe nodded before hurriedly assuring him, “Believe me, I’m not interested in your bank account.”

  “You’d hardly tell me you were, now would you?”

  “True.” She shifted uncomfortably before quickly returning the spotlight on him. “But getting back to your story.”

  He could tell she didn’t like talking about herself. Something else they had in common.

  “This girl—” Chloe was saying when Steve interrupted her.

  “Her name was Gina. She was smart and classy. Gorgeous. A real knockout. And I discovered the truth when I found her with a good buddy of mine. I overheard them talking. He’d told her about the money. I’d told him, never thinking…” His jaw tightened. What an idiot he’d been. “Anyway, they both duped me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Walked in and told them the game was over. Gina tearfully tried to tell me that I’d misunderstood.”

  “Had you?”

  Steve shook his head. “I saw the guilt in my buddy’s face.”

  “So it was actually a double whammy. You were betrayed by both a gold-digging woman and by your buddy.”

  “At least he wasn’t a Marine,” Steve said. “He was a civilian.”

  “Oh, that explains it then,” Chloe noted dryly. “Civilians aren’t to be trusted.”

  “Hey, I spill my guts to you and you respond by mocking me?”

  “You were reciting facts of what occurred. That’s not the same as spilling guts.”

  “Like I’m ever gonna get all sappy about stuff,” he scoffed.

  “That would never happen, right?”

  “I’m a Marine.” His voice was brisk and powerful. “We don’t do sappy.”

  “Right. You do tough and in control.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Except where it comes to your grandmother?”

  “Affirmative. But I do have a plan.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that…?” Chloe murmured before taking her last bite of brownie.

  “The way to combat my grandmother’s matchmaking moves is not to launch a counteroffensive. That would only make her dig in her heels more. Instead, we lull her into thinking she’s winning the battle.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “Simple.” He grinned at her again. “We move in together.”

  Chapter Three

  “Wha-at?” Chloe almost choked on the coffee she’d just sipped. “Wha-at…” Cough. “Did…” Cough, cough, cough. “You…say?”

  In the blink of an eye, Steve was around the table, patting her back. His hands were large and powerful enough to pound, but they were surprisingly gentle. And they felt surprisingly good. “You’re entirely too easy to set off, you know,” he chided her.

  “So you were just kidding?”

  “About moving in together? Yeah.”

  “I had no idea Marines were such jokesters,” she noted tartly before standing and gathering the beige stoneware. The sharp clinks of the plates indicated her irritation.

  “I wasn’t kidding about the rest, though. About making my grandmother think she’s winning the battle. All it requires on our part is spending some time together. Because I’m telling you, she won’t stop. If she doesn’t succeed in hooking me up with you, she’ll just set her sights on someone else.”

  “Better the devil you know than the one you don’t?” Chloe asked, setting the dishes on the counter next to the sink.

  Steve nodded. “So what do you think?”

  “That you’re out of your mind.”

  “By that I take it you have a few reservations about my plan?”

  “A brilliant deduction. And an accurate one.”

  He appeared unfazed by her reaction. “That’s understandable I suppose. Because you haven’t thought the plan through.”

  “And you have?”

  “Formulating successful mission plans is what I do.”

  “And here I was thinking Marines were fighting for home and country.”

  “We are. All over the world. But this mission is different.”

  “It certainly is. It involves your grandmother.”

  “I’m not proposing we lie to her.”

  “No?”

  “No. We really would spend some time together. Neither one of us wants romantic entanglements, and this is a sure way to avoid them. You and I…we’d both be on the same page.” His grin was a gradual progression from a smile, making it even more potent. “Hey, a book analogy. That should be one you’d appreciate.”

  “Yes, well, forgive me if I don’t appear suitably impressed.”

  “See, I like that about you.”

  “What?”

  “That you speak your mind. That you’re not easily impressed. We have a lot in common. Tell me some more about yourself and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “What’s there to tell?” She efficiently placed the plates in the dishwasher before closing the door. “You already know that I work at the library.”

  “What do you do for fun?” Steve asked.

  Chloe was at a momentary loss. Fun wasn’t something she’d actually had a great deal of experience with. There wasn’t time. She had things to do, goals to accomplish. She’d always kept her eye on the ball….

  “Do you like watching football?” Steve asked her.

  She b
linked. “What?”

  “That Bears nightshirt you were wearing so well.”

  “It was a grab-bag gift from the Christmas party at the library.”

  “Okay, so you’re not a big football fan. What else?”

  “I enjoy reading. And I do some knitting.”

  “And?”

  “And…I don’t know. I’ve been too busy to have fun.”

  “We can fix that.”

  “That’s not necessary. I think it would be better if we simply tell Wanda that this isn’t a good time for matchmaking, that neither one of us is interested in a romantic relationship right now. She’ll honor that.”

  Steve just shook his head sadly. “You don’t have much experience with stubborn Polish grandmothers, do you?”

  “She’s not my grandmother.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s mine. And she’s got both of us in her matchmaking sights. I’m telling you, there’s no convincing her.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t said the right thing to her. I think we should try talking to her sensibly first.”

  Steve shook his head. “Big mistake.”

  “I think that what you’re suggesting is a big mistake.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “She’s your grandmother. It’s not my problem.”

  “That’s what you think. You’ll see. Until then, I took a look at your car earlier this morning. You need a new battery. I can install it for you if you’d like.”

  She blinked at his sudden change of subject. Was he giving up that easily? That was a good thing, right? That meant she’d persuaded him with her logic. Good for her.

  The news that she needed a new car battery was not good. It was definitely bad for her. Chloe hadn’t budgeted for auto repairs this month. Librarians weren’t in the profession for the money. Her paycheck would never be filed under “higher tax bracket.”

  “I’ve worked on cars and stuff since I was thirteen,” Steve was assuring her. “I spent a summer in Texas with my mom’s father who was totally aggravated with me for being more interested in engines than in the oil and gasoline that goes into them. I’ve always been good at it.”

  “At aggravating your grandfather?”

  “Well, yeah, that too. I meant at working on engines, repairing things.”

  “Is that what you do in the Marine Corps?”