Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!)

by Tori Carrington

  At one point, she’d ordered herself to stop. Mace was a military pro and episodes of this nature were a regular part of his job.

  But this wasn’t Afghanistan: this was Colorado. And stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen.

  After delivering the plates and refilling coffee cups, she caught herself standing in front of the television again, coffeepot in one hand, thumbnail of her other between her teeth. At this point, they were merely rehashing earlier events. There was no new information, no footage that included a shot of Mace.

  It was just after five and while “Breaking News” was stamped in a special red icon in the upper right of the screen, the station had rolled into its usual pre-news hour.

  She found it ironic that one of her basic reasons for never dating a man in the military had been because of the long separations that frequently found the object of a stateside lover’s attention wandering. She’d never really considered the risk angle—the fact that the lover might wander off…permanently.

  She’d turned her cell phone volume on high. It loudly chirped now.

  Geneva fumbled to get it out of her apron pocket, nearly dropping it. Those aware of her connection to Mace stopped to stare at her.

  A text.

  From Mace.

  Her relief was so complete, her knees nearly gave out.

  She made it to the counter where she leaned against it for support as she accessed the text.

  Running late. Meet you at the dance…

  She stared, dumbfounded, reading it again.

  He was okay.

  The word swirled around and around her head.

  He was okay.

  “So?”

  She looked to find Trudy hovering.

  She blinked. “He says he’ll meet me at the dance.”

  Dance?

  She realized she’d completely forgotten about the dance.

  “Girl, I need you here.”

  She nodded, then pressed the needed buttons to respond to Mace’s text.

  No way was she going to work overtime at the diner when she had a chance to see Mace.

  She wrote, then rewrote the text. Finally, she settled on a simple Okay.

  She sat for long moments, cell phone crushed in her hand, staring at the television screen, attempting to connect the surreal scene continuing to play out with the mind-blowingly normal one going on in her life.

  “Running late. Meet you at the dance…”

  His words as casual as if a meeting he was in was going long or he’d been caught in traffic.

  Not that he’d been involved in a car-bombing incident that nearly took two men’s lives.

  “Table Five needs service,” Trudy said, passing her.

  Geneva looked at her blankly, her words taking a moment to register.

  An hour. That’s all she was going to give the diner. Then she was going home to stand in the shower until the water ran cold, or until her thoughts started to make sense. Whichever came first.

  And then she was going to that dance.

  19

  HE SHOULD HAVE CANCELED.

  Mace knew that.

  Still, even though his mind was occupied with the day’s event, he was late as hell and probably in hot water, the thought of seeing Geneva, even for a few minutes…well, it eclipsed everything else.

  He straightened his Marine full-dress uniform jacket and scanned the good-sized crowd at the outdoor dance, his mind still going over the second attempt against Norman’s life.

  After pinpointing the position of the assailant, he’d rushed into the business building with backup on the way only to find the vacant office from which the rocket had been launched empty…although very recently occupied. The suspect had left behind items he probably hadn’t intended to, which indicated Mace had just missed him. A scope bore a good fingerprint that Mace had immediately entered into the system. While nothing had come back yet, he had men out pulling samples from hotels and motels in the area hoping for a match and a further lead. He also had guys reviewing video from cameras in the area.

  The two security men in the target car had suffered minor burns and concussions but thankfully, they were okay.

  And General Norman had gone on to his rally as if nothing had happened, not learning the full extent of the second attempt until afterward.

  It had been after seven before Mace realized what time it was…and remembered his promise to Geneva.

  Now it was after nine.

  The Harvest Dance was set on a farm outside Colorado Springs in a hulking old barn. A big band was set up in a corner among hay bales and there was a large dance area in front of the makeshift stage, while tables full of those taking advantage of the unseasonably warm night were set up both inside and outside the barn under large tents.

  He didn’t know how he was going to find Geneva. He hadn’t heard anything from her after her simple “Okay.”

  Maybe he should call her.

  Then he spotted her.

  His stomach tightened in a way not all that different than it had in the wake of today’s events, yet was entirely different. She was standing near the barn doors, a glass of what looked like wine in her hand though he guessed it was likely juice, her profile turned to him as she took in the scene. She had on a red high-waisted dress and heels, her hair swept back from her beautiful face, looking perfectly matched to the nostalgia-era setting.

  He stood still, merely watching her when she seemed to sense his presence. Her chin went up and she turned her head, meeting his gaze.

  Her smile erased everything that had happened that day. Nothing existed but her.

  They met in the middle of the distance separating them and she hugged him. He happily hugged her back.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” she whispered into his ear.

  She smelled of gardenias and something spicy. It was all he could do not to press his lips against the long line of her neck. Damn, but she looked beautiful.

  He hadn’t thought about her worrying earlier. It wasn’t until later he’d discovered the news about the car explosion had been pretty much broadcast live, which meant she’d probably seen it.

  “I’m even better now,” he whispered back, settling for brushing his lips against the shell of her ear as he pulled her slightly closer.

  She smiled up at him.

  As he smiled back, he couldn’t help feeling as if he’d known her forever…yet as if they’d just met.

  “You want something to drink?” she asked.

  He watched her mouth say the words, but didn’t immediately register them. The band had launched into a slow classic.

  “What? Oh. No.” He offered his arm. “But I would like to dance with you. Do me the honor?”

  “The honor would be mine.”

  He took the glass from her hand, placed it on a nearby table, then walked her the short way to the dance floor. As he pulled her close, he couldn’t help thinking there was nowhere else he’d rather be in that one moment. She fit just so against him, her soft sigh communicating she likely felt the same.

  It had been a good long while since he’d danced with anyone. But Geneva wasn’t just anyone. She was…she was…

  He looked down at her.

  She was beautiful. In every way.

  “I was worried about you,” she said softly.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should have called.”

  “I know you had more important matters to attend to.”

  Just then, he couldn’t think what those could be. He was filled with the sweet scent of her, the feel…and wanted more. Oh, so much more.

  “I was afraid you weren’t going to make it tonight,” she said.

  “I was, too.”

  He smiled down at her a
nd then held her closer still.

  He closed his eyes, listening to the music, content to feel her heart beating against his, for now.

  “About your text this morning…” she said so softly he nearly didn’t hear her.

  Had it really been only that morning since he’d texted those three words? Yes, he realized, it had been.

  “Shh,” he said into her ear. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”

  Her head nodded against his cheek.

  He pressed his lips against her temple.

  So much, so quickly. From one extreme to the next. Given the drastic swings, part of him wondered if his instincts and emotions could be trusted. But it was a small part, if only because this felt so right.

  A tap on Mace’s shoulder. “May I?”

  He turned to look at Dustin.

  He grimaced as he gazed into Geneva’s surprised face.

  She looked back at him.

  “Sorry. The lady’s dance card is full,” he said, experiencing a possessiveness with which he was unfamiliar.

  Geneva gave Dustin an apologetic smile and then Mace danced her away from reality back into the dream…

  * * *

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Geneva reluctantly left Mace with some friends to go in search of Dustin. She’d much rather stick by Mace’s side, get to know more about him and talk to his friends’ dates and wives and girlfriends, but she needed to talk to the man who was making it his business to complicate her life in ways she didn’t appreciate.

  There. She found him talking to Tiffany from the diner near the open bar set up outside.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?” she asked, after saying hello and telling Tiffany she looked great.

  “Dance?” Dustin asked.

  “Talk.”

  They both looked at Tiffany, who appeared curiously disappointed.

  “Sure.”

  Geneva led the way and stopped on the fringe of the happy crowd.

  “You’ve got to stop this, Dustin.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what,” she said. “You’ve got to stop acting like we’re anything more than just friends.”

  His gaze dropped to her belly. “Oh? I’m thinking you need to stop acting like we’re just friends.”

  “We’re going to share parenting, but as for anything romantic…”

  She watched as his expression darkened.

  She touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry if this flies in the face of your basic instincts, Dustin. Really, I am. But…well, I just don’t feel that way about you. And the days of marrying just for the sake of a baby have long since passed.”

  “But…”

  “There really isn’t a but.”

  Then it struck her. She suddenly realized because she spent so much of her time dodging his advances, she wasn’t including him in a way that might allay some of his fears…and get him to accept a more fitting role.

  “I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week,” she said quietly.

  His brows raised.

  “Would you like to come with me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’d love to come with you.”

  She smiled at his quick answer.

  “Will we learn the sex of the baby?”

  She laughed. “No. Not yet. We’re still a few weeks away from that, but you’re welcome to be present then, as well.”

  He seemed to search her face long and hard.

  “I’m not going to exclude you, Dustin. You are the baby’s father. You’re welcome to participate any way you’d like in that role.”

  “But nothing more.”

  “Friendship. You know, like what we shared before.”

  He nodded.

  Thankfully, he appeared more thoughtful than genuinely hurt.

  Had he really been afraid she’d cut him out?

  “And Mace?” he asked.

  “Mace?”

  Then it struck her: Dustin wasn’t only afraid of being cut out; he was concerned he might be replaced altogether.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

  While she hoped Mace might play a role in her future—and by extension in the future of her child—well…

  “But whatever tomorrow holds,” she said to Dustin, “you’ll always be the baby’s father.”

  He appeared satisfied with that. More than satisfied, he looked happy.

  “Can I be there for the birth?”

  Her eyes widened and she laughed. “How about we leave that decision for when we’re closer to the birth?”

  He grinned. “Fair enough.”

  She looked over his shoulder at the way Tiffany was watching them in a curious way.

  She squinted.

  Oh. Another light bulb moment.

  Geneva cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve settled that, it looks like someone might like to dance with you.”

  “Who?”

  She nodded in the other woman’s direction.

  “Tiffany?” he said incredulously. “We’re just friends.”

  “So are Mace and I…” Geneva said. Then she smiled.

  20

  SHE DESERVED BETTER…

  Mace hated parting ways with Geneva at the end of the dance, but he needed to hightail it back to Denver before the suspect trail grew cold. Now, hours later, all he could think about was her, all warm and sleeping in that big bed of hers, alone. And how much he’d like to crawl in behind her, draw her close, then lose himself in the touch, feel and taste of her.

  He couldn’t recall a time when a woman had captivated him to the degree where she was always on his mind. To where his every thought, every action, automatically extended to how it might affect her or them.

  He’d never achieved that state of…consumption with Janine. In fact, every time he found a message waiting for him on his cell phone, which had thankfully trickled down to once a day instead of several, he was mildly surprised to find he’d forgotten about her.

  “Match.”

  Reece’s one word snapped his attention away from thoughts that might concern him if given further examination. He looked up from where the documentation on yesterday’s reports from various team members was spread out on the conference room table before him.

  Jon came over to where he sat. He placed a printout of the fingerprint found at the scene yesterday next to another. “Falcone lifted this from the front desk counter at a budget motel on the outskirts of town an hour ago.”

  They had their man.

  Though if he was correct in that assumption, there was little chance their guy was still at the ratty motel on the edge of town. Especially if he’d spotted Dominic Falcone.

  Still, it was a lead where previously there hadn’t been one.

  “Falcone still on the scene?”

  “No. He’s moved on.”

  With countless hotels and motels in the metro area to accommodate conventions, there was a lot of ground to cover, so it was anybody’s guess where any of the men were at that given moment.

  Mace pushed from his chair and grabbed his jacket. “Then let’s go…”

  * * *

  GENEVA SAT AT THE DINER counter, the breakfast rush having slowed to a hushed trickle, proposals from her other job open before her in preparation for a meeting in an hour scheduled to take place at the eatery, since she wouldn’t have time to go home and change and get back in time to meet her client.

  Trudy plopped down on the stool next to her and sighed, slapping her morning paper onto the counter. “What a morning.”

  Geneva made a notation in the margin of the proposal. “Any luck replacing Cindy?”

  Trudy made a sound that verified what Geneva had already suspect
ed. “I haven’t had time to interview much less hire anyone.”

  “You could always hire her back.”

  “I could…”

  Geneva raised her brows. The usual Trudy response to such a suggestion would have been a snort and a dismissive scowl. Far be it from her to rehire someone who’d already proven herself unworthy. Her tolerance threshold was wide, but surpass it and there was no going back. Once you were out with her, you were out for good.

  At least that had been the case before.

  Although now…

  Trudy opened the paper, pretending not to notice her open scrutiny although Geneva knew perfectly well she was aware of it; Trudy was aware of everything.

  “Should I give her a call? You’re going to be shorthanded this weekend.”

  Trudy didn’t respond, indicating the moment of Zen breakthrough had passed. At least for the time being.

  Geneva returned to her proposal, figuring her suggestion was at least worth a shot. Truth was, considering how busy it had been lately, they needed an extra pair of hands. And while Cindy was known to call in sick once or twice a month without a hint of the sniffles, she was a good worker.

  The idea of training someone new when there was already a well-trained waitress available was unthinkable.

  And, according to Tiffany, Cindy was very much interested in having her old job back. Her new one at a nearby chain restaurant wasn’t exactly working out the way she’d hoped.

  “What are you doing next Tuesday?” Trudy asked.

  Geneva glanced up from her proposal. Tuesday. Was it really only four days from now? It seemed so far away…yet so soon.

  She hadn’t taken much note of the time lately. She’d been existing in an oddly enticing clockless bubble full of emotion and sighs. But now that she was being asked, she realized only two days remained of Mace’s leave. Next Tuesday…

  Next Tuesday, he would be long gone.

  Her heart stopped pumping.

  “Geneva?”

  She looked at Trudy, but didn’t really see her.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “What? Oh. Yes. I heard you.”

  “It’s not a complicated question.”

  Maybe not. But it did involve a complicated response. Albeit one she would never dream of sharing with Trudy.