It wasn’t hard to pick out the ones Maria had taken. Most were off center and not quite in focus. A couple were surprisingly good, though. One in particular snared Alex’s gaze. It was obviously a selfie. Maria’s face nested cheek to cheek with Ben’s. Their chins were tipped, their lips stretched into wide grins and their eyes filled with laughter.
“What was so funny?” Alex wanted to know.
“Me,” Ben admitted wryly. “I was trying to balance on my good leg, hold Maria with one arm and shoot the selfie with the other. We both almost went butt-first into a prickly pear.”
Alex didn’t quite see the hilarity in that. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t relish the thought of tweezing cactus needles out of your behinds, as cute as they both are.”
That made Maria giggle and Ben smother a snort. Thankfully, he didn’t remind Alex that she’d delivered a somewhat more descriptive assessment of his posterior only this morning. At the time, he’d been lying on his belly while she straddled his thighs and massaged all accessible areas. The contrasts had fascinated the artist in her. The tanned skin of his shoulders and back. The crinkly hair at the base of his spine. The taut, white buttocks above those muscular thighs. And then he’d rolled over and treated her to another palette of...
“Ben thinks we should get a kitten.”
Jerked from her erotic memories, Alex blinked. “What?”
“We should get a kitten,” Maria repeated. “’Cause, you know, that’s what you call me.”
Alex shot a reproachful glance over her shoulder before replying. “We talked about this before. You’re in school and I’m working. It’s not good for a kitty to be alone all day.”
“School gets out in two weeks. I could stay home and play with it.”
“You’ll be at day camp.”
“I don’t want to go to day camp. It’s stupid and boring. I want a kitten.”
“Maria...”
“You promised. You did, Alex.”
“I said we’d consider it when you’re a little older and can take care of a pet.”
“I can take care of it now. I’ll put milk in its bowl ’n’ scoop up its poop ’n’ comb its whiskers. Besides,” she added with a pout, “you ’n’ Ben get to play together. All that kissing ’n’ stuff. I should have someone to play with, too.”
“She’s got a point,” Ben murmured.
Not sure she liked being ganged up on, Alex beat a strategic retreat. “Let’s talk about it again when school’s out.”
And there it was. The ominous lip jut. Accompanied by beetled brows and crossed arms. “I want a kitty now.”
“We’ll talk about it when school’s out.”
“That’s two whole weeks away. I—”
“Don’t be a pog, kid.”
Maria turned her scowl on Ben. “What’s a pogue?”
“Pog. P-o-g. Originally, it referred to ‘people other than grunts.’”
The arms dropped and curiosity replaced the pout. “What’s a grunt?”
“Someone in the infantry. A ground pounder. Nowadays it pretty much means anyone who’s a sorry excuse for a soldier.”
“I’m not gonna be a soldier. I’m gonna fly airplanes, like you do. C-one... C-one...”
“C-one-thirties.”
“Right.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not those sissy fighter jets.”
“That’s my girl.”
Alex listened to the exchange with growing surprise. Not at Maria’s newest career choice. Last week she’d wanted to be a doctor. The week before, a nun like Sister Mary Catherine at school. What had Alex’s heart pinging was the way Ben had turned her sulk into a beaming delight with a simple smile of approval.
“Why don’t you pull up pictures of the 130 on your iPad and I’ll show you all the moving parts?” he suggested.
“’Kay.”
When Maria hopped off the sofa and shot out of the room, Ben took her place. He sank into the cushions, propped his crutches against the coffee table and hooked an arm over the sofa back. His fingertips burrowed under Alex’s hair and stroked her nape. The touch was light, casual and electric.
“Sorry about the kitten,” he said ruefully. “I should’ve guessed it was still up for debate when Maria assured me you’d sort of, pretty much, mostly agreed to one.”
“I sort of, pretty much, mostly did. Sometime in the future.”
“Looks like the future may arrive sooner than expected.”
“Looks like,” she agreed as the pads of his fingers teased the fine hair on her nape. Each one seemed to stand up and quiver in ecstasy.
He leaned closer, almost tipping her into his lap, to peer at her sketch pad. “You’re working on a jazzed-up version of the 58th Special Ops patch?”
“I am.”
She’d downloaded a JPEG of the trapezoidal patch with its depiction of Diana the Huntress in full warrior mode. After printing it onto paper, she’d tried different colored glitter pens to pop the colors.
“I thought I’d use gold crystals to highlight the edge of the patch. Then a paler gold for her armor and silver for her bow and arrows. The stags harnessed to her chariot I’ll do in amber, the chariot itself with just a touch of pearlescent. What do you think?”
“I think it’s sierra hotel. Shit hot,” he translated at her blank look.
Obviously, both Alex and Maria needed a tutorial in military slang. Tucking sierra hotel away for future reference, Alex studied her sketch.
“You really like it?”
“I do. I wouldn’t want all those sparkles on my uniform during a night approach using NVGs. Night vision goggles,” he interpreted again. “But I’m betting every female in the squadron will want this version of the patch on a ball cap or T-shirt.”
She bit her lip, alternating between pleasure at his approval of her design and shivery delight at his touch. She had to stop, take a breath and remind herself that Maria would bounce back into the living room at any moment.
In almost the next breath, she caught herself wondering if she could arrange a sleepover for Maria at her friend Dinah’s house. Just for tonight. And maybe convince Dinah’s mom to take her to church with them tomorrow. Then Alex and Ben could “play” all night. Sleep late in the morning. Laze over coffee and a bagel. Hit the sheets again.
Guilt washed over her. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering dumping Maria on the Madisons just to wrangle an extra few hours in the sack with Ben. Disgusted with herself, she added a final stroke or two to her sketch.
“I’ll transfer this to my computer and make up a sample T-shirt. If it doesn’t violate some rule or regulation, maybe you can take it into the squadron and conduct some market research.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you make up a sample T-shirt and wear it to the Memorial Day picnic? Better yet, make two. One for you and one for Maria.”
She angled around and found herself cradled in the V of his arm. “What Memorial Day picnic?”
“The one sponsored by the 58th prior to the air show. It’s more or less a mandatory commander’s call for anyone not deployed or otherwise out of town. The old man believes in wholesome family outings.”
“Unlike the annual Badger Bash,” Alex said drily.
“Extremely unlike the Badger Bash. I usually try to avoid these picnics like a bad case of the cl—” He caught himself and grimaced. “Let’s just say grilling hot dogs and making balloon hats don’t figure real high on my list of fun things to do. Or haven’t up to now.”
The guilt rolled in again. “You don’t have to do either for us, Ben. Maria and I will get along fine without hot dogs or balloon hats.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” He tightened his arm and gave her shoulders a squeeze. The pressure tipped her just enough to topple against his chest. “No way you’re bailing on me, woman. If I have to go, you have to go.”
She grinned and was about to confess that she had a secret weakness for hot dogs when a loud huff sounded behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed Maria with her iPad tucked under her arm and a thoroughly indignant expression on her face.
“That’s what I mean,” the girl accused. “You get to play with Ben. I should have someone to play with, too.”
Alex knew when she’d been outmaneuvered. Sighing, she acknowledged defeat. “Okay, okay. We’ll get a kitten.”
With a happy screech, the seven-year-old launched herself at the sofa.
“Be careful of Ben’s foot!”
Alex’s warning came too late. Maria landed in a joyous bundle. Ben grunted and quickly hiked her off his bad leg. Then the three of them collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs.
* * *
After her unconditional surrender, Alex knew she couldn’t hold out long against Maria’s pitiful, soulful, doe-eyed demands to know when they could bring home a kitty. Once again yielding to the inevitable, she agreed to sooner rather than later.
The following afternoon the three of them made a visit to the only animal shelter in Albuquerque open on Sundays. Less than an hour later, Alex, Ben, Maria and a pink-nosed, gray-and-white bit of fluff found abandoned by the side of the road some days ago left the shelter. The kitten had been dewormed and given its shots but was skin and bones under her fur and cringed at every loud noise. She dug her sharp little claws into Maria’s T-shirt and wouldn’t let go even during a stop at a pet store to stock up on kitty necessities.
A hundred and fifteen dollars later, Alex stashed a bed, a climbing tower, a litter tray, a sack of kitty litter, and an assortment of toys, canned food and treats in the back of Ben’s SUV. He’d insisted on picking up the tab as payment for his part in precipitating the cat crisis. He’d also engaged Maria in a lengthy discussions over a name for her new friend. So when they left the store, Sox—a personalized, shortened version of Special Operations Command—was wearing a pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that gave her name and a phone number to call if found.
* * *
Having spent that Sunday morning researching how to introduce a cat into a home with young children, Alex wrangled Maria’s reluctant agreement that Sox would spend the first few nights in the quiet of the laundry room with her bed, climbing tower, scratching post and other toys. They’d also make sure she had accessible food and water. Once the kitten acclimated, that could change.
Alex had also drawn up a list of tasks for Maria that included changing the water in her bowl daily and emptying the litter tray when necessary. At Ben’s suggestion, she had Maria plaster sticky notes on the front, back and patio doors to remind them all to not let the kitten slip out and get lost.
Even with all the research, Alex wasn’t prepared for the instant impact the tiny bundle of fur had on both her heart and her home. To her surprise and Maria’s delight, Sox transitioned with astounding rapidity from timid and frightened to curious and playful. All it took was a tentative exploration of her new environment, a hearty meal and a feather ball on a string.
Maria’s infectious giggles as the kitten chased and swatted at the ball put a happy glow in Alex’s heart. And later, after she finally got the excited girl down for the night, the sight of Ben dozing on the sofa with a sleeping kitten curled up on his chest stopped Alex in her tracks. She stood at the entrance to the living room, one hand on the curve of the arch, and felt the floor beneath her make a seismic shift.
Oh, God! She could fall in love with this man. Hell. Why kid herself? She was already more than halfway there. Liking him and lusting for him and being so, so grateful for all he’d done for her and Maria were all balled up together inside her now. And as the old cliché always pointed out, the sum was so much greater than the individual parts.
Not exactly sure what to do about the tight wad of emotion squeezing her chest, Alex stood where she was a few moments longer. Then she eased down beside Ben, propped her feet next to his on the coffee table and let herself simply enjoy his warmth and the soft little rumbles emanating from the kitten.
* * *
Alex must have dozed off, too, because the chime of her cell phone startled her as much as it did Ben and Sox. She jerked upright and fumbled for the phone she’d left on the coffee table while Ben winced and gently extricated sharp little claws from the front of his knit polo shirt. Wide-awake now, Alex gave the caller ID a quick glance.
“It’s Chelsea,” she told Ben as she stabbed the talk button and put the phone to her ear. “Yo, girl. What’s happening?”
“New hair, new shoes and a new show,” her former roommate replied gleefully.
“Where? When? Tell me all,” Alex demanded, thrilled for her friend.
“The hair this morning. Turquoise and silver streaks. Very chic, if I do say so myself. The shoes this afternoon. Ankle-strap sandals with four-inch heels in screaming red. The show’s at Bellagio. I’m going to be performing in the freakin’ Cirque du Soleil.”
“Oh, Chels! That’s fantastic!”
“I know. I’m très jazzed.”
“You should be. You’ve worked... Hey, wait! Isn’t the show at the Bellagio aquatic? With synchronized swimmers and high dives and dolphins or something?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So you don’t know how to swim.”
“I do, too.”
“Chelsea! You almost drowned in the kiddie pool at our apartment building.”
“Only because I tripped and fell in face-first. Besides,” she said airily, “every cast member has to go through compulsory training in water aerobics before joining the show. If I survive that, I’m in.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. It doesn’t start until next week, though. So I thought I’d zip up for a quick visit.”
“Come ahead. We’d love to have you.”
“‘We,’ huh? Sounds like you and Major Hottie are getting cozy there.”
Even more than she knew, but with Ben listening to the one-sided exchange Alex didn’t think this was the time to explain that they’d decided to give their fake marriage a shot at becoming real.
“How’s Maria handling having a man around the house?” Chelsea wanted to know.
“Very well, actually.”
“How about you?”
She thought about the previous night, and Ben’s body all slick with sweat under hers. “Also very well.”
“Hmm.” Her friend thought about that for a moment. “I don’t want to intrude on you newlyweds but I’d really like to see the kid. So why don’t I boogie on up and stay with her while you and hubster go off somewhere for a belated honeymoon?”
When Alex hesitated, Chelsea picked right up on the brief pause.
“Don’t tell me the bloom has already worn off the marriage license,” she hooted. “You guys have been married, what? Two weeks?”
“Three.”
“Have you had any alone time? Except in the sack, that is?”
“Not much.”
“That’s what I thought. You need to get your man off and all to yourself. So here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said in a brisk, authoritative tone. “I’ll fly up for the Friday afternoon. You and Hot Cheeks can check in to some ritzy resort or hotel in Santa Fe. And neither of you will pack anything except a toothbrush and a smile.”
“His work’s been crazy, Chels. Mine, too. I’m not sure either of us can just pack up and take off for a weekend.”
That got Ben’s attention. He eased out of his slouch, careful to cradle the kitten as he did, and shot her a quizzical look.
“Talk to him and get back to me,” Chelsea ordered.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bossy bitch?”
“You have, numerous times. Call me back.”
When Alex hung up and angled toward Ben, she could see he’d obviou
sly absorbed the salient points of the conversation.
“This coming weekend?” he echoed. “I think I can swing it if you can. Right now the schedule calls for us to get the last check ride done by Friday noon.”
Alex could probably swing it, too. She and her team had worked like lumberjacks on steroids to fill the Paris Casino order. Still, she hesitated to push Ben, especially with his leg still in a cast.
“Seriously, we don’t have to do this.”
“Seriously, I think we do.”
The blunt response took her aback. Surprised and a little hurt, she tipped her chin. “Why? I thought we’ve done pretty well given our unconventional start.”
“We have. Extremely well. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t jump at the chance to get you all to myself for an entire weekend.” Easing his feet off the coffee table, he transferred a stretching, yawning Sox onto the cushion. “And don’t interpret that to mean I want to get away from Maria. I’m more in awe of her than I ever imagined I would be of a seven-year-old. She’s smart and fun and totally fearless.”
“Not totally,” Alex countered softly, remembering the times the little girl had sobbed in her arms after Janet died.
“Okay, maybe not totally. But she’s got it together enough to spend a weekend with her aunt Chelsea while you and I go someplace we don’t have to keep the noise level to a minimum.”
“Noise? You’re worried about making noise?”
“Not me, sweetheart. You.” Grinning, he reached out, cupped a hand around her nape and tugged her closer. “Those little grunts you make? Just before you climax? They’re really screams fighting to come out.”
“I do not grunt. Or scream.”
“Oh, yeah, babe. You do.” His mouth brushed hers. “I’m thinking we need to reserve an end unit. Or a separate unit altogether. I’ve got a real itch to hear you let go.”
* * *
Alex didn’t need any further incentive. When Ben called the next morning to confirm that he’d be able to get away by noon on Friday barring any unforeseen crises, she advised her employees that they would be shutting down for the weekend a few hours early and was on the phone to Chelsea mere moments later.
Marry Me, Major Page 11