by Rian Kelley
“Exactly. Just give me your best guess and we can negotiate a compromise if needed.”
“Five hours?”
She pursed her lips, considering. “No. Three. You pick your date up, you drive to the restaurant, order, eat, have some conversation over the food. Coffee afterwards and maybe you share a piece of cake.”
“So you’re saying there’s a certain order to how this meal should go down?”
“No. That’s not my point at all. I’m generalizing for the sake of arriving at an agreeable time.”
“You’re willing to spend only so much time with me?”
“No, we’re defining a typical date, Jake. And I think three hours tops. Per date.”
“We’re not typical,” he pointed out.
“But you want us to be,” she returned.
“Okay.”
She glanced at her watch. “You picked me up at the hospital at ten after seven,” she pointed out. “It is now three minutes after nine. We’ll round that to two hours,” she informed him. “And add that to the time we spent together on Sunday, which was another three hours. So, halfway through dinner tonight, we’ll be into our third date. Do you remember what you said about third dates, Jake?”
She could tell by the way his eyes flared that he was now following her thinking just fine.
“It means that whatever activity we choose for our next date, it will have to be short. We’ll be an hour into it when it’ll be time to head for the sheets.”
She watched him swallow. His features tense.
“Now is probably not the time to bring this up,” he started, “but I report for duty tomorrow.”
“What does that mean?”
“Normally, it would mean seven-to-four. But we’re preparing for maneuvers. We have a training exercise coming up that will take us over land and sea and we need to be ready for that.”
“And so you’re working longer hours?”
“Overnight through Friday.”
“So we’ll see each other Saturday?”
“I thought we could take one of those trolley tours of the city,” he offered.
She shook her head. “Too long. And I work until midnight the night before,” she
explained. “I’d like to sleep in.”
“Ok. How about a dinner cruise?”
“Does the boat come with overnight accommodations?”
“No, but a prime rib dinner and dancing.”
“Sounds lovely,” Ivy agreed. “We’ll definitely have to try that, but not on date three. You can pick me up at my apartment at four o’clock. They have a rock climbing gym around the corner form my place. In fact, we can walk there, climb a wall, and run home when the clock chimes five.”
He was frowning and Ivy didn’t understand it. He wanted three dates—she was giving it to him. He wanted them to get to know each other more, to have a stronger foundation before they got down and dirty—he was getting that, too.
“What are you afraid of, Jake?”
“Losing you before we even have a chance,” he stated bluntly.
“You can’t think the sex is going to do that,” she returned. “Remember? I believe you promised an explosive experience.”
“It will be that.”
“I have no doubt about it, either,” she assured him.
“Your treating us like a fling might do us in.”
“We’re beyond that,” she admitted. “A fling transpires between two people who
acknowledge the brevity and superficial manner of the arrangement.”
“You get that from Webster’s?”
“No, from Genny. The night nurse. According to her, you’re playing for keeps, and definitely worth keeping.”
“Genny is a smart woman.”
“So, the rock wall on Saturday,” Ivy recapped and then released her seat belt. “And no touching until then,” she said, sliding out of the truck and standing in the open door. “Those are the rules of engagement.”
“Define ‘no touching.’”
“None. Nada. No holding hands. No standing close enough we might brush against each other. I’ll open my own doors, pull out my own seat—just in case.” She leaned into the cab. “It hurts too much, Jake, having you touch me and knowing it’ll go nowhere.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
They took a table on the patio. The heat lamps were on, holding back the mist that came off the rolling surf. By the time they were seated, the sky was a deep indigo. A few stars, a sliver of moon and nighttime running lights on boats heading to dock did little to illuminate the vast darkness of the ocean. Across the table, he caught a glimpse of Ivy’s face as she turned a page in the menu. Other than ordering a glass of sangria, she had said little since delivering her expectations in the truck.
He winced when he thought about the pain sexual frustration was causing her. He felt it himself. When it was at its most acute, he stepped into the shower and took care of himself as efficiently as possible but he knew that paled considerably in comparison to the release he would find in Ivy’s arms. Just thinking about it made his balls ache.
“I’m having the sea bass,” he announced. He wasn’t able to focus on the menu and gave up trying. He also wanted to test her level of tolerance for him at this point.
She lowered the menu and spared him a glance. It held no animosity but the look she gave him wasn’t encouraging, either.
“I can never pass it up,” he told her and smiled, hoping to soften her mood a little. “How about you?”
“I like to try new things,” she told him and let her glance flicker over him. Not quite condescending, but he was definitely lacking in adventure if her expression was anything to go by. “I’m thinking the New York strip steak and king crab legs.”
“Great choice.”
“We should start with an appetizer,” she suggested. “Maybe the lobster strudel?”
“I like shellfish,” he agreed.
“And then a salad. Spinach. I’ll take my dressing on the side. What about you?”
He wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible she was trying to stretch the evening out as long as possible. He said as much and watched the gleam in her eyes thicken to challenge. And damn if it didn’t get his blood pumping.
“It’s totally possible to close this place down,” she said.
Her confidence was delightful; her desire for him heady and tampered with his resolve. He laughed, which only encouraged her.
“And the average date being three hours means that some are shorter.”
“And some longer.”
“Yes, like the fourth or fifth date. That boat cruise is five hours easy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman work so hard to get me into bed,” he said.
“That’s because until now you were thinking with your dick.”
“You’re right. And it has a one word vocabulary: ‘Now.’”
“And you’re trying to think about later.” She nodded. “Thank you. Really. I’m glad you know I’m worth it. But I’ll be as worth it tomorrow as I am today.”
“And next week, too,” he agreed.
“And maybe even next year.”
“That’s just it, Ivy. I can see tomorrow with you. I can see next year and, if I let myself go there, I can see diamond rings and make up where my razor should be.”
She frowned. “We’ll need a bigger bathroom.”
“I’m serious.”
“How can you be? We’ve known each other--" she glanced at her watch, “Five hours
and forty-five minutes.” She peered at him with suspicion. “Nice try.” The compliment was issued with a twist of her lips before she changed tactics, “Did you know there’s a whole school of thought that believes the world will end September thirteenth, two-thousand and thirteen. It’s a Friday.”
“They believed the end of the Mayan calendar meant the end of human life, too.” He spread his arms to indicate all the tables surrounding them, each one occupied. Callahan’s was popular, even
after the traditional dinner hour. “Anyway, we’re a few weeks from Armageddon.”
“You wouldn’t want to spend your last breath wishing you’d had more of me,” she taunted.
Her words hit home. Except the present moment, nothing about life was guaranteed. When he was in Afghanistan, he’d lived with that on a daily basis, held proof of it in his arms as Arturo died. Her words made him think about how temporary life could be. How we often lived our days doing more of what we didn’t want to do, and far less of what we longed for. But he was done with the any port in a storm thinking. He wanted more than that. He needed more than that.
The conflict waged inside him as he considered her determination. Ivy knew her mind. He should respect that. And not just because it served him well, though for that reason he began to pick apart his easy capitulation. Coming together had to be good for both of them. Physically, he would make sure that Ivy got everything she needed and more. Emotionally, he’d gotten a lot of push and pull from her. He suspected she didn’t know where she stood as far as developing a relationship with him. And he wanted her to be sure. Would sex confuse her emotions? Or would intimacy nurture the positive? And shouldn’t she have some control over where they went and how fast?
Ivy seemed to need that. She’d made it pretty clear—she resented his position and had sought to weaken it.
He let his gaze rest on Ivy’s face. She was beautiful—expressive eyes and full lips—but he saw more than surface qualities. Her inner strength made her gaze direct. It lifted her chin and created an air of challenge. It did crazy things to him—made him want to meet her on the mats, but hold her close and be her shield when needed. It was an intoxicating combination bottled in perfection. He had no chance against it. And very little fight left in him.
“Okay.” He nodded, glancing at his watch. “Let’s call it six hours. Which means we need to get through three more before we start taking off our clothes.”
His agreement caused her pause. She folded the menu and laid it on the table. “We’re having sex in three hours?”
“That’s right.”
“At twelve-thirty am,” she further clarified, glancing at her watch.
“Yes. August twenty-first,” he confirmed.
“Of this year?”
He laughed. “Getting cold feet?”
“Hardly. You just gave me a brain freeze for a moment. Why the change in plans?”
“A combination of things. But you’re right. I definitely don’t want my last breath to be full of regret.”
He watched emotions chase across her face. Anticipation dampened by a somber cast before her thoughts formed on her lips.
“I didn’t mean to call up bad memories for you,” she said. “I should have chosen my words more carefully.”
“No. You’re right. We should live with more urgency. I just want to make sure that the decisions we make today don’t lead to regret later.” He turned a fork over with his fingers and studied the tines as he sifted through words for the ones that felt right. “I told you I lost a man my last tour. He was married. Had a few kids. But you know what? He lived life. The guy was always smiling. He had only one greeting. ‘Seize the day.’ And he lived it.”
“Why were you ordered on R&R?”
Jake glanced toward the ocean. Only the whitecaps were visible, like sheets undulating in the wind. “I needed it. I went back for Arturo,” he confided. “The gunfire was close and they were using hand held missile launchers, too. It made hearing each other almost impossible—caused static on our radios and forget trying to shout to each other. But I heard him. For one clear moment, with artillery flying and the discharge from automatic weapons shattering the air, there was a moment of nothing. And that’s when I heard him.” He paused, caught a breath of air, and continued. “No words. He wasn’t capable of any. But his last breath.
“I couldn’t leave him there. His family needed closure, needed something to bury.” He shook his head. “And there was just no way I could leave his body out there, to become a symbol
of enemy taunting.
“I put him over my shoulder and ran a quarter mile to our transport. That was May eleventh. I’ve been in fast-forward ever since.” Until he saw her on the side of the road and then everything inside him came to a screeching halt. “My CO thought a break would do me good. The General agreed. I wasn’t happy about it. Not at first. But then I found you, half-naked on the side of the road, and realized that I’d struck gold.”
“I wasn’t half-naked,” she protested, but her voice was mild. “I’m sorry you lost Arturo. You’re a brave man, Jake. And honorable.” Her fingers pleated the cocktail napkin her wine glass rested on as she dipped into her thoughts. “I’m sorry I’ve been pushing.”
She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Jake noticed the color in her cheeks and the way her teeth sawed her lower lip. It made him want to reach across the table and suck that lip into his mouth, kiss her deeply, make her cheeks flame with passion.
“Especially since I agreed to Saturday night.” She shrugged. “I’m impatient. I don’t remember being this way since, well ever. You don’t even have to touch me. Sometimes it’s the way you look at me, or its standing close enough I can feel your warmth, breathe in your scent, and I want you. We’ll wait until Saturday. And we’ll have a normal date. We’ll do that dinner cruise—“
“Whoa!” Jake pushed his menu aside and leaned across the table. “Hold up. You’ve got me where you want me.”
“I know you told me I could take advantage of you,” she smiled, but her amusement fast turned sultry. “And I’d really like to do that, but it wouldn’t be right.”
Jake’s head was spinning. Three hours. He was primed. He was ready. He wanted it. And so did she.
“I was kidding.”
“I know.”
“I’m not now,” he wanted to make that clear.
“I don’t want you to compromise your principals,” she explained.
“We’re having sex tonight,” he told her, glancing at his watch. “In two hours and forty minutes. And it’ll be the best decision we’ve ever made.”
She gazed at him, considering. “That’s a lot of confidence for a man who five minutes ago was worried sex would blow any chance we had of something deeper.”
“I’m trusting your instincts,” he told her. “Women are much better at intuitive living.”
Ivy’s eyebrows arched. “Where did you get that phrase?”
He shrugged. “My sister may have used it a time or two.”
“In relation to what?”
“Whom,” he corrected. “Like I said, I wasn’t good about timing. At setting a foundation and building up. She told me I need to slow down and feel. Get a feel for the woman I’m with, for what she wants. So I’m doing that.”
“Giving me what I want,” Ivy affirmed. “And taking time out of the equation.”
He leaned across the table. “What do you think about time and us?”
She met his gaze. “I think more about now, this minute, than I do tomorrow,” she admitted. “But I’m open to possibility.”
Chapter Nine
“Tell me more about your childhood,” Jake invited.
“The way to my heart is through my psyche, Dr. Freud?”
“We have two hours to learn the most important things about each other,” he corrected. “Enough’s been said that I think our childhoods rank significantly in shaping who we are today.”
“So you start then.”
He nodded. “Ok. I have an older sister named Jenna. Our parents were older than the norm, back then anyway—thirty-three and thirty-seven when I was born. My father was a contractor. I don’t have any meaningful memories of him. Some feelings—like being excited when he was due home. Anticipating adventures, so I’m pretty sure he was an active dad when he was around.”
“What happened?”
“He was killed in an overseas bombing. He was one of the early contractors who traveled to Saudi Arab
ia to aid in the emerging. I was four years old.”
“I never knew my father,” Ivy admitted. “I have no memories of him, good or bad. I
guess I always thought of him as selfish. He left us. He had to know our mother was a drunk, that she couldn’t keep a job.” She felt herself falling back into memory. “She told us he went back to Mexico, where he was born. Holly thinks this part is true. My sister is two years older than me and has a few memories. But the way our mother remembered it, our father was supposed to return. Three months tops. Holly says he was as good as gone the minute he walked out the door.”
“Why does she say that?”
“They fought a lot, our parents. It wasn’t the first time our father walked out.”
“Where is Holly now?”
“Vegas.”
“She’s the reason we found each other.”
“I visit two weekends every month,” Ivy said. “I don’t miss it. Ever,” she underscored.
“Ok.”
“Those weekends are usually my only days off.” She sifted a hand through her hair. She’d let it out of the ponytail clip earlier and the wind off the ocean was sweeping it across her eyes. “She needs me right now.”
“Then you never miss a visit,” he agreed.
A frown pleated the skin between her eyebrows. “Has it really been two years since you’ve seen your sister?”
“Two years and two months,” he confirmed. “I need to be better about it. My nephews are growing up fast.”
“How old are they?”
“Ten and seven.” He ran a hand over his face and Ivy recognized it as a habit he indulged in to rub away tension. “I spoke to my sister last night,” he confided. “She and my brother-in-law have been going through a rough patch. Looks like they’re not going to make it.”
“She needs you right now.”
He nodded. “That’s one of the trips I mentioned. I thought I’d go at Thanksgiving. It will be their first holiday with the family split up and they’ll really need a distraction.”
Ivy thought about that. Jake was a compassionate man. Another quality that went into the positive column. She was beginning to wonder if he had any bad traits. She wasn’t sure if being too eager in relationships counted.