by Julie Miller
“There’s nothing wrong with the trawler, either,” Hal continued. “I would have loved you and the missus to come visit us but, well, it’s Travis. Personally, I’m just grateful he’s alive after that explosion. But he’s having a hard time with his recovery. It’s mental as much as physical if you ask me. You know how hard it is to keep a Marine down when his buddies are in the line of fire. You and I were the same way. A couple decades ago, at any rate.” Hal laughed as guilty bile pooled in the pit of Travis’s stomach. “Trav won’t even consider retirement from Special Ops. If he’s not careful, he’ll permanently cripple himself doing too much too soon. I need to be here to keep an eye on him.”
Well, didn’t that make him feel like he was about five years old again? Apparently, Travis wasn’t the only McCormick whose life had been altered by the accident.
“Ethan and J.C. helped me get him home, but Ethan has to report back to Quantico to prep for his class on Monday.” Travis had thought getting big brother out of the way would mellow out the elevated level of concern around here. Instead, it sounded as if his father was dialing his stress up another notch. “No, Caitlin and her husband couldn’t make it,” Hal went on. “She’s so close to term on her pregnancy, Walter, that I can’t ask her to leave Alexandria to take care of her brother. Maybe if she wasn’t in her ninth month.”
Travis shook his head, cursing silently. He was thirty-three. A grown man. A Marine captain. Not a child. And certainly not a wash-out who needed his daddy or anyone else to babysit him.
He could add guilt to the layers of frustration already weighing him down. Yeah, he had issues. But they were his problems to deal with, not his family’s. His life might have been put on hold for a year. but they weren’t going to suffer the same fate—not on his account.
Travis silently leaned the cane against the wall outside the kitchen. If the Velcro on the brace binding his left leg from thigh to ankle wouldn’t have made such a noise, he would have removed it as well to make the illusion complete. As it was, he tugged the frayed edge of his cut-off denim shorts over the top of the brace, fixed a grin on his face to counter the ache in his bones, and strolled into the kitchen to raid the leftovers from last night’s party.
“What, am I dying?” Travis teased, unwrapping a tray of cookies on the counter and studying them as though choosing between chocolate chip or ginger snap was the biggest challenge he had to face that day. “You aren’t seriously giving up a fishing trip for me, are you?”
Hal covered the receiver with his palm. “You’ve come home for a reason, son. I’m not about to abandon my duty. Walter understands.”
The sweet, spicy cookie he munched on suddenly tasted like sawdust.
Walter. As in General Walter Craddock. One of his father’s military cronies. Travis’s older brother, Ethan, had once reported to Craddock at the DOD—Department of Defense—at the Pentagon. He was one of the chiefs overseeing personnel assignments. An officer whose recommendation—or lack thereof—could make or break Travis’s chances of returning to Special Ops.
Not a man he wanted to appear weak in front of.
Travis swallowed the lump of sawdust and gestured for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
“It’s General Craddock.”
Travis took heed of both the concern and the warning in his father’s blue eyes. “I’ll make sure I salute.”
“Uh-huh.” Reluctantly, Hal turned his attention back to the phone. “Walter, my son would like to have a few words with you. Go easy on him.”
Go easy? Hell. Why not just tell the general he was a panty-waist who couldn’t cut it in the Corps anymore?
But Travis buried his knee-jerk reaction behind a charming, chilled-out facade. He perched on a barstool at the end of the kitchen counter, taking the weight off his leg so he could concentrate on saying all the right things to reassure both his father and Walter Craddock. “General. Travis McCormick here.”
“Captain. I’m sorry to hear about your relapse. Do they have the proper medical facilities there in Ashton? If there’s anything Millie or I can do to help, let us know.” A touch of something that just might be construed as pity colored the general’s voice.
Convincing the doctors, the Corps, his friends and family that he wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture was going to be an uphill battle all the way. He might as well draw a line in the dirt right now and start the good fight. Forming a vague plan in his head, Travis watched his father cross the room to check the cookie tray for himself. “The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, sir. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Good to hear. The Corps relies on men like you.”
He hoped so. “Actually, General, I need to ask you a favor. From one Marine to another.”
“Name it. What can I do for you?”
“You can keep your plans with Dad.” Travis let a grin filter into the timbre of his voice. “If you and Mrs. Craddock don’t drive down from D.C. tomorrow and give him a chance to try out his new Mainship Trawler, we’re going to have a national crisis on our hands. Chesapeake Bay could be overrun with striped bass.”
“Travis Harold McCormick…”
Craddock’s laugh drowned out his dad’s reprimand. “Hal’s cramping your style?”
Travis didn’t want to make light of his father’s concerns; he just didn’t want the stress-free retirement his father had earned to be another casualty of Travis’s lengthy recovery. “I know he was looking forward to your visit. And trust me, if I can survive four weeks in a Central American jungle with nothing but MRE’s and a sidearm, then I can manage a couple of days in a well-stocked beach house with satellite TV and a remote control.”
“It’s that bad, eh?”
“Save me, sir.”
Craddock laughed over a rustle of papers at his desk. “Millie and I were looking forward to getting out of the city for a few days.”
“There’s no need for you and Mrs. Craddock to alter your itinerary on my account.”
“I was going to ask your father about bringing along a family friend as well.”
“The more the merrier,” Travis insisted.
“Unfortunately, that could be a problem. I can’t guarantee how merry she’ll be.”
“She?”
“Eileen Ward. She’s my secretary here at the DOD. A civilian.”
Was the general playing match-maker to his dad? From the corner of his eye, Travis watched his father studiously debate between the chocolate chips and ginger snaps, then ultimately choose one of each. Was that the old man’s idea of conflict and excitement these days?
Though he was a little gray on top, and definitely set in his ways, Hal McCormick was still in pretty decent fighting shape. He had pills he took regularly for his heart, but his outdoorsy hobbies and regimented diet—okay, so he still had a weakness for sweets—kept him trim. According to a few articles Travis had read, a sixty-year-old man in his father’s relatively sound health and secure financial position made a pretty good catch. Still, he’d remained steadfastly unattached since being widowed. He didn’t date, didn’t flirt. He just…fished.
Travis frowned as Hal gazed out the window above the sink and chewed. Was his father content with his early retirement? Was he bored? Lonely? Looking for action? Did Hal McCormick even remember what action was?
Eeuw.
Travis cringed, remembering his own body’s wildly inappropriate reaction to Tess Bartlett yesterday afternoon and last night on the beach. His skin prickled with an instantaneous, self-conscious awareness as he recalled vivid details from the erotic dreams that had haunted him through the night.
His and Tess’s second-floor bedrooms faced each other. Only, instead of replaying their silly childhood hand signals that they’d once used to communicate with each other after lights-out, he’d pictured her trim, athletic body standing buck naked in her window. Definitely all grown up. And the gestures she’d sent across the moonlit night between them had all been provocative invitation
s. In his dreams, she’d touched herself, pleasured herself, served herself up on a silver platter for him to watch and want. And then they’d been on the beach together. In the water. In his bed. He’d been inside her mouth. Inside her body. He’d tasted her from stem to stern. She’d tasted him. He’d been the Action Man in his prime, and she’d been his match in every sexy, seductive way possible.
In his dreams.
Travis had awakened, tangled in his covers, feeling hot and achy and unsatisfied. And mortally concerned that he’d been fantasizing about his best friend in such a raw, uncensored fashion. Apparently, a year of recuperation had taken its toll on his sanity as well as his body. He’d certainly found that out at the beach last night. The only thing that had stopped him from taking her for a roll in the sand had been her reluctant but necessary suggestion that they should get back to the party.
Friend or no, did his father have fantasies about a woman the way Travis had about Tess? Did Hal ever crave that kind of action?
Did Travis really want to be thinking about father and action in the same sentence?
“Damn.”
“McCormick?”
Focus.
Travis shifted on the barstool, uncomfortably aware that his life was completely out of whack. He hadn’t done a very good job of taking care of himself this past year. He didn’t intend to jeopardize his future friendship with Tess by listening to his lusty hormones.
But in the here and now, he could pull it together and help his dad. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hal McCormick had put his whole life on hold for the sake of his children—the same way he wanted to put this fishing trip on hold.
Pulling his shoulders back to attention, Travis concentrated on a brand new strategy. Time to redirect the opposition. He raised the volume of his voice so Hal could hear every word. “Tell me more about this Eileen who’s coming with you.”
“Eileen?” Hal stopped mid-chew and frowned. “Who’s Eileen? What happened to Millie?”
Good. His father’s attention had just shifted to a new topic. Travis patted the air with a placating hand, silently telling him not to worry, yet secretly glad he was distracted.
General Craddock gave the low-down. “Eileen’s been with me for years. Works her butt off. She’s not much for socializing, but her ex is getting re-married this weekend, and Millie thinks Eileen needs to get out and meet some people instead of moping at home.”
Hmm. Depressed hermit. Obsessed with work. Been with the general for years. Eileen sounded like a real stick in the mud. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about that bothersome picture of his sixty-year-old father getting some action. “Does she enjoy being on the water?” Travis asked.
Unable to stop his curiosity, Hal brushed the crumbs from his hands over the sink, then crossed close enough to whisper, “This woman’s coming here with Walter?”
Travis hushed his voice as well. “It’s his secretary, Dad. Millie and Eileen are both coming.”
“I have no idea what her hobbies are, besides the plants she always has on her desk. She doesn’t talk about her personal life much.” Craddock’s tone altered with a mix of apology and admiration. “I don’t know if you remember my wife, but Millie can be quite formidable once she sets her mind to a thing.”
It was Travis’s turn to laugh. He’d heard that Millie Craddock had played a small but key role in getting his brother, Ethan, and his wife, J.C., together.
“I remember her.” Mrs. Craddock’s determination might prove his best ally when it came to easing his guilt. Whether this Eileen proved date-worthy or not, Travis would see to it that his father didn’t sacrifice one more thing on his account. “It doesn’t sound wise to disappoint the missus, sir. You come on down to Ashton and bring your guest. Dad will appreciate the company.” Now for the lie. He raised his voice a notch. “I’ve got plans myself, anyway. Dad’ll be here by himself if you don’t come.”
Hal rested a warning hand on Travis’s shoulder. “What plans?”
Travis winked to reassure his dad, but spoke to the general. He was making this up as he went along. He may have a bum leg, but his bullshit skills were completely intact. “I have a class reunion thing going on, meeting with some high school friends.” Why not go all the way? “I promised I’d help them with the Bay Festival this week. I don’t know why Dad wants to hang around the house—I’ll be gone most of the time, anyway.”
Hal’s grip tightened. “When did you make these plans? The doctor said you needed rest.”
“Rest and recreation, Dad. This is the recreation part. Besides, I’ll be hangin’ with Tess. I can’t get any safer than that, can I?” Travis offered a brief explanation to the general. “One of my classmates just happens to be my physical therapist. She’ll keep an eye on me.”
“You’re sure?”
Positive. “What time shall I tell Dad to expect you?”
Though Hal knew his younger son well enough not to be completely swayed by his reassurances, he seemed to reclaim some of his excitement when he got back on the phone to make final arrangements with General Craddock. “I guess we’re still on then, Walter. If Trav has Tess to watch over him, he’ll be all right. She’s a good kid. Who’s this Eileen person? Does she know her way around a boat?”
Travis excused himself and headed for the front door, pulling his cell phone from the waistband of his cut-offs. He took a short-cut across the yard as he punched in a familiar number. He had to get ahold of Tess. He needed to shove aside the lust still sparking through his system and ask his old buddy for a favor.
Schedule me a PT time. Get me out of the house and keep me occupied long enough so that Dad will quit hovering and go back to living his own life. Travis needed an alibi so that the story he’d just told his father and the general wouldn’t make a complete liar out of him.
He was dragging his sorry leg up the back steps to the Bartlett’s patio door before anyone answered. “Hello?”
“T-bone.”
“Trav?”
Searching through the sliding glass door, he spotted her in the kitchen and breathed a momentary sigh of relief. But then his pulse hammered into overdrive as he shamelessly watched her through the window. She wasn’t naked; she wasn’t pleasuring herself the way she had in his dreams. But suddenly he was drop-dead stupid with want for her. He edged closer to the window.
Tess wore a Washington Nationals baseball jersey with Frank Robinson’s number on it. Classic choice. But just like last night on the beach, he couldn’t concentrate on baseball. Either that jersey was way too long, or her shorts were way too short—because he was looking at nothing but smooth, tanned skin on that long stretch of thighs. Capped off by the swells of her sweet backside when she bent over to pull a tin of muffins from the oven, the only thing he could think of was bending her over the counter and getting a little sugar for himself.
Tess frowned as she straightened and tossed off the oven mitt. She pulled the phone from where she’d wedged it between her ear and shoulder. “Travis? Are you there?”
He saw a glob of batter dotting her cheek when she craned her neck to look through the west windows toward his house. That glob should have reminded him of the food fight they’d had in junior high school and how going to the office together as comrades-in-arms had been one of their first bonding experiences. Instead, he wanted to lick off that batter and find out if the skin beneath tasted just as sweet.
“Travis?”
“Forgive me for anything I’ve ever done to you.” Including lusting after you like a Marine who’s just seen his first female in twelve months.
“What are you talking about?”
Travis curled his fingers into his palm and tapped on the glass to get her attention. When she turned, her familiar smile of recognition and welcome warmed him down to his toes like a comfortable hug, and some of that unexpected obsession shouting through his veins quieted. Yeah, T-bone would help him out.
But as she hung up the phone and approached, images of other recent hugs
surfaced. The tight knots of those perky breasts smushed against his chest. The streamlined curve of her bottom snugged against his groin. Nerve endings and cell membranes and even bigger body parts leaped to attention at the thought of her stopping on her side of the window and stripping down to make his erotic dreams come true.
Son of a bitch. Travis slapped his phone shut against his temple, ending the call and knocking some sense into his head. Where were these impulses coming from? Why now? Why Tess?
He stepped back onto the patio as she opened the door—without undoing a single button. “What’s going on?”
“I want your ass.”
Shit. Had that just come out of his mouth?
Tess’s green-gold eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Smooth one, McCormick.
Travis swallowed hard, silently dressed down his libido and articulated his request as though he’d never uttered any indication of his crazy new attraction to her. “I need you to save my ass.”
CAPTAIN KYLE BLACK knocked on the door frame marking Walter Craddock’s office and ushered himself inside as the general hung up the phone.
He carried in the report Craddock hadn’t asked for until next week and set it on his desk. Seventeen hundred hours was generally quitting time, but it was never too late in the day to make an impression on his commanding officer. “Taking off for the weekend, sir?”
Craddock nodded as he leaned back in his chair. “Actually, I’m heading out of town with Millie for a few days. Eileen’s coming with us, too. I’ve decided the only way to get that woman to take a vacation is to order her to.”
“She’s not military, sir.”
“Well, I won’t hold it against her.” Kyle grinned at the general’s dry humor. “We’ll be back in the office Tuesday morning.”
“I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone, sir,” Kyle reassured him. He’d gotten assigned to the general’s office six months earlier. If Kyle’s career plan stayed on track, he’d make major and be running his own staff within the year. Moving up the chain of command was as much about making nice with the man who headed up the Corps’s promotions committee as it was doing an impeccable job. So he asked, “Where you headed?”