Derick (Delta Forces Book 3)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  But Derick didn’t want to use those systems to find out the mystery of “Jolene”. For some reason, he felt that checking into her background would be a violation of her trust. And a violation of her privacy. She hadn’t done anything illegal that he knew of. So, he had no justification, other than curiosity, to delve into her past.

  Plus, he wanted her to tell him. She was strong and a damn good carpenter. He’d also seen into her house while pulling up some of those boards yesterday. She was doing a fantastic job on the interior as well. To a casual observer, the house looked ruined. The woodwork was all torn up from a sander, the walls patched up with caulk and drywall plaster. There was dust just about everywhere. But because Derick had done, and was still doing, the same sorts of repairs to his house, he understood the process. He recognized the priming of the walls and wood prior to applying the finishing touches.

  In fact, Derick realized that he was anticipating the challenge of getting her to trust him. After years of living out here by himself, the idea of having a neighbor, especially a pretty, mysterious neighbor, was enticing.

  Carrie watched as Derick snipped and tied up the cucumber vines, coaxed the bean vines around the poles and cushioned the budding squash plants. His hands were gentle and caring. He never pulled too hard and touched every plant and fruit with…almost reverence.

  And he was right to treat the plants that way, she realized. These were life-giving plants. These plants didn’t just provide oxygen, but they brought forth fruit and health and vitality!

  She almost fell on her bottom when she realized that he was coaxing her out of her shell as well! Just like a plant! After living next to the man for only a week, he’d coaxed a smile from her. That’s something she hadn’t done in…too long. Carrie hadn’t had a reason to smile. And yet, after only a few conversations with him, he had her smiling like a goofball.

  Not to mention, the way he was touching those plants made her think about what it would be like for him to touch her that way. Would he have such reverence when he touched her? Would he look at her with pride and awe when his hands cupped her breasts?

  Just thinking along those lines caused her body to tingle in odd places. Places she had thought dead. Beaten to death a long time ago.

  “Why are you doing that?” she asked, nodding towards his hands, which were carefully pinching the flowers off a vine.

  He glanced at her, but she couldn’t see his eyes very well through his dark sunglasses.

  “It makes the plant healthier if it only has to produce one fruit or vegetable,” he explained patiently. “Imagine a woman giving birth to one child versus the risks of giving birth to five or six at once.”

  She shuddered at the idea. “Pinch away!” But that wasn’t the only question she had. As they worked, she asked more questions, thrilled that he was patient enough to answer them. She also pulled weeds as she went along, tossing everything into the grass, just as he was doing.

  By the time the sun was overhead, he called a halt. “We’ve done enough for today,” he told her, walking over to take the twine and scissors back. “Thank you for your help. Would you like some lemonade?”

  She looked around, a teasing sparkle to her eye. “No lemon trees?”

  He grinned, then tilted his head toward his house. “They’re inside.”

  Carrie’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding, right? I was just teasing.”

  He led her over to the shaded porch and waved towards one of the chairs. “Not kidding.” He disappeared inside, then returned with a pitcher of lemonade. “I made this earlier today, knowing I’d be out in the sun today.” He poured lemonade over two glasses filled with ice, then handed one to her. “Lemon trees are tropical plants. They wouldn’t be able to survive in this area during the winter months.”

  She watched, thinking that even the way the man drank was a turn on. He gulped down the lemonade and she watched his Adam’s apple bob, thinking that the man was fascinating.

  He glanced at her untouched lemonade. “You don’t like it?”

  Carrie pulled her gaze away from his throat and looked down at her glass, praying that he couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.” She lifted the glass to her lips and tasted, then took a longer sip. “Oh my, this is really good!”

  He nodded, and poured himself another glass. “Thanks for your help out there. I enjoy gardening, but sometimes, the plants get a bit out of control. Especially in June after the spring rains and the heat from the sunshine.” He paused and took another long sip. “By August, there won’t be as much to do, other than control the bugs.”

  “That doesn’t sound as interesting.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, it’s not. But all this,” he said, indicating the large garden, “is worth it.”

  She followed his gaze, admiring the plants. “I agree. It’s pretty amazing, everything you’ve planted and grown. Very impressive.”

  He looked at her, and she could see the indecision in his eyes now that he’d removed his sunglasses. She wondered if she was imposing on him. Maybe he had things he needed to get done. And here she was, just sitting on his porch enjoying the view. “I’d better get…”

  “One of my friends made some homemade pasta the other day,” Derick interrupted. “With that, plus your pasta sauce, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” He eyed her curiously. “You don’t have other plans, do you?”

  Carrie knew that she should say she had something else to do. She didn’t, but she could easily get into her truck and go…somewhere. Anywhere. Just so that he didn’t know that she was sitting at home tonight, not doing anything.

  So, it was a surprise when she heard herself say, “No. I don’t have any other plans. Pasta would be really nice.”

  “Good,” he replied, nodding. “How about if you come on back around six o’clock?”

  Carrie checked her watch. That was only a couple of hours away. She shouldn’t do it. He was a big, muscular man. But then she remembered the way he’d touched the tomato plants. The gentle way he’d touched all of the plants. Could she risk it? Just this once?

  It wasn’t as if she were going to have sex with him. It was just dinner. And she could hurry home afterwards. She had a safe haven to return to tonight. With heavy locks on the doors.

  “Yes. Six o’clock. That would be great.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’ll see you at six.”

  She nodded as well, and felt a bit silly, just standing there, staring at him. So she looked down at the glass, surprised to find that she’d drank all of the lemonade. It was surprisingly good. She set the glass down on the table and walked down the steps. Without saying anything else, because Carrie had no idea what else to say, she walked back to her house.

  Once inside, she leaned her back against the door, closed her eyes, and tried to slow her breathing. Dinner. With a man! Just a meal, she told herself, trying to tamp down her nervousness. And excitement.

  “Just dinner,” she whispered. Then she pushed away from the door and hurried up the stairs. She was hot and sweaty and, when she looked in the mirror, Carrie gasped at her reflection. She looked like a hag!

  Oh no! This wouldn’t do! Her feminine instincts, long suppressed, flared at the horror in the mirror. “Time to pretty up,” she told her reflection.

  Chapter 6

  Derick’s beer froze midway to his mouth as he stared at the image walking towards his house. “Jolene” had abandoned her baggy jeans, tee shirt, and work boots for tonight. Instead, she wore a dress. A short, flirty summer dress that ended several inches above her knees. She’d also found a pair of wedge heels that made her legs look…hot!

  The dress had obviously been purchased when she was a larger size, because the material floated around her body. But that didn’t matter. It made her appear almost ethereal as she crossed their lawns, the early evening sunshine glowing behind her. That backlit sun highlighted her figure, making the material of her dress almost translu
cent.

  “Holy…!” he muttered to himself. “You’re going to be in pain by the end of this night.”

  The beer thudded onto the bannister, the liquid inside foaming up and over the top in protest. But Derick didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to “Jolene”.

  She’d done something with her hair. And she wore makeup. Not a lot, but enough that it highlighted her huge eyes and…brown eyes. Huh! He’d been so focused on other things that he hadn’t noticed that her eyes were a beautiful, rich, chocolate color that left him thinking about pouring warm chocolate all over her. Then licking it off.

  Freckles, he realized when she came closer. She had cute, sexy freckles all over her nose and along her cheekbones. His eyes lifted, noticing her hair. There was something odd about her hair, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. But for some reason, he’d always associated freckles like hers with redheads.

  “Am I late?” she asked.

  Derick could barely breathe, much less respond. His lust was disrupting his thoughts. He must have shaken his head, because she smiled up at him.

  Lashes. Her lashes weren’t dark like her hair, he realized. She’d added a touch of lipstick…well, more like tinted lip-gloss, and he wasn’t sure if she was blushing or if she’d added some color to her cheeks. But whatever, it looked really nice! But her lashes were…they seemed a different color. It was hard to tell since her beautiful, chocolate eyes kept drawing him in. But yeah, there was something off about her lashes. And eyebrows?

  Hell, what did he know about women’s makeup tricks? He appreciated every damn thing that a woman did to herself, but telling the difference between real and illusion…he was clueless. In the past, if a woman had been willing, and he was interested, he hadn’t much cared what was real and what wasn’t.

  So why was it so important to him with “Jolene”?

  Because he knew that “Jolene” wasn’t her name. And now he knew that…hell, her lashes should be brown. Yeah, that was the issue. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were the wrong color. A woman with dark hair would normally have dark lashes and dark eyebrows. But “Jolene” had light lashes and her eyebrows were barely visible.

  Blonde. “Jolene” was a blond! Hell, why would anyone color her hair dark when she was a natural blonde? That made no sense.

  Just another piece of the puzzle, he told himself.

  Pulling himself together, he pushed away from the porch railing, remembering his manners. “Would you like a beer? Or wine? I have some wine.”

  “Jolene” looked around him and spotted the beer on the railing. “A cold beer sounds great right about now.”

  He nodded, then moved around her to retrieve two more beers. The one on the railing was mysteriously empty. He must have finished it off while watching her walk towards him. Derick was pretty sure that he’d never forget that moment. Never!

  “It’s still pretty hot out here. Why don’t we go inside?”

  She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two beers, twisting the tops off each before handing one to her. “Would you like a glass?” he asked, trying to remember the small things that women preferred. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d tried to impress a woman.

  “This is fine,” she said, then took a long drink. Derick watched, more turned on by the minute. He should look away, but hell, a woman drinking beer was…hot! That word just kept popping into his mind.

  “I put some cheese and crackers out. Help yourself,” he told her.

  She sat at the counter, perching herself on the stool while admiring his kitchen. “Your house is lovely. Did you do most of the work yourself?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, turning on the heat to boil the water. “I like working with my hands.”

  Those words hung in the air around them, the tension increasing. Carrie watched him, wondering what his hands would feel like. After working with him today, she knew that his hands were callused, rough. But strong and capable. Tender even.

  “The…” she cleared her throat. “The cabinets are new. Were the old ones too far gone to save?”

  He pulled his eyes away from her and looked at the cabinets. “No. They were fine. I just wanted something different. These had cleaner lines.”

  “They’re nice,” she said, nodding her head. “What else did you change?”

  He shrugged. “Just recently, I pulled up the carpets. There were great hardwood floors underneath!”

  “I prefer hardwood floors,” she replied, still nodding her head. “They add such warmth to a room. I also like the way that they sound when I walk over them. Carpets are nice too, but there’s something homey about hardwood floors.”

  “I agree. I was surprised to find them in such good condition.”

  While he cooked the pasta and stirred the sauce, they discussed the various renovation projects that they’d tackled over the years. He’d fixed up this house and one he’d lived in prior to here. But Carrie had more experience, since this was her fourth renovation.

  When the pasta was ready, he gave her a heaping serving of the obviously homemade pasta, then poured lots of sauce over the top and a generous layer of cheese.

  “I don’t think I can eat all of this,” she protested, laughing at the huge mound of pasta.

  “You’re too skinny,” he told her, then brought his own bowl over to the table. “Eat!”

  Carrie laughed and felt a warm glow ease over her. “I used to be overweight,” she admitted. “It’s weird to hear someone say that I’m too skinny.”

  His fork froze. “Overweight?” he echoed. “Did you fill out that dress before?”

  She grimaced and nodded. “Yes. The dress used to fit me perfectly.”

  He shook his head. “Then you were too skinny before. And even more so now. So eat. I also have cookies for dessert.” He pointed his fork towards the bread. “And the same guy who made the pasta also made the bread today.”

  She took a slice of the bread. “Today? The bread was just made today?”

  “Yep. A friend of mine likes to bake when he’s stressed. Since his wife is about five months pregnant, he’s stressed a lot lately. So, he’s been baking up a storm.”

  Carrie laughed. “Is this guy as big as you?”

  “Bigger actually. Zeke tops me by at least an inch.”

  “Wow!” She laughed again. “And is he just as muscular?”

  Derick looked at her with a glare. “Nope! He wishes! He’s a wimp compared to me.”

  Carrie smiled, suspecting that Derick’s friend was just as buff. “I’m sure he’s not as handsome,” she assured him.

  “Not even remotely. Now eat.”

  She smiled and twisted more of the amazing pasta onto her fork. “This is really good.”

  “I can’t take credit for anything other than the vegetables. Zeke made the bread and the pasta and you made the sauce. It’s wonderful, by the way. I like the fresh basil.”

  “My mother loved to make fresh sauce. She said that there was no reason to waste money on jarred sauce when fresh was better.”

  “I have to agree.”

  Carrie blushed with his praise.

  After dinner, she helped him clean up even though he told her to go outside and sit on the porch. “I’ll be right out. I’ll just rinse these off and put them in the dishwasher.”

  “I can help,” she countered, then flinched, startled that she’d dared to argue with him. But since his back was to her, Derick didn’t see her terrified cringe. Nor did he see her force herself to relax as he replied easily, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

  The idea that she could voice her opinion and disagree without repercussions was startling. She smiled as she helped him clean up.

  Afterwards, they sat down on the porch together and he handed her a glass of amber colored something that smelled wonderful. The porch awash in moonlight, the music of the crickets as a backdrop.

  “So, what do you do?” Carrie asked.

  “I’m an offic
er in the Army,” he told her.

  Carrie smiled, nodding her head. “I figured as much. You have that look about you.”

  “What’s that look?”

  She grinned. “The look that tells the world to do what you tell it to.”

  “You don’t,” he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice even if his face was shadowed.

  “I try to follow orders.”

  He snorted and she could feel him shaking his head. “Only when you agree with them.” There was a long silence that didn’t feel awkward. A tension, but it was more of an awareness than anything else.

  “I should probably go,” she finally said, reluctantly standing up. “Thank you for dinner. And for the brandy. It was exceptional,” she told him, handing him the glass.

  For a long moment, she stood there, gazing up at him. He was so tall and so handsome. And she really wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a man like Derick.

  As soon as that thought popped into her mind, she pulled back, terrified. “Well, thank you.” Then she was gone, literally running across the grass towards her house.

  Once inside, with the doors locked, Carrie took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. “Don’t go there!” she whispered to herself. “Don’t even think about kissing him! You know where kisses lead and you’re not going to risk it again!”

  She sank down onto the dusty floor, wrapping her arms around her legs, trying to keep herself from falling apart. “Not again!” she vowed. “Never again!”

  Chapter 7

  The next two days were rough on Carrie. She stayed out of sight until she saw Derick drive off to work each morning. Then she worked frantically on the various projects around the house, scraping her arm with the sander one day, slicing her thigh with a chisel the next. Carrie ignored the pain in her arm and her leg, pushing as hard as she could to finish each project she’d assigned herself before six o’clock. Which was generally the time Derick arrived home from work.