by Karen Foley
“Oh, Rachel,” he said softly, and his voice was rich with promise. “That’s where you’re so very wrong.”
Chapter Six
They fell into a comfortable routine over the next several days. As promised, Rachel came over at nine-thirty each morning and they ate breakfast together by the pool, before deciding how to spend the day.
The day before, they’d driven up to Whitefish and had taken a short cruise on Whitefish Lake, before spending the afternoon browsing through the shops in the quaint downtown. At Rachel’s recommendation, they’d enjoyed dinner and a couple of beers at a breezy, open-air brew pub. Jamie couldn’t recall what they’d talked about, only that they had done a lot of laughing. She’d completely captivated him. She’d been all he’d remembered from their youth, and more. Several times during the evening, he’d caught her watching him when she thought he didn’t notice.
It had been after ten p.m. when they’d arrived back in Glacier Creek, and they’d stood in her dark driveway for about fifteen minutes, just talking. He’d had a nearly overwhelming urge to kiss her good-night, but sensed it was still too soon. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off.
Today, however, Jamie had wanted to surprise Rachel by cooking breakfast for her. He’d set his alarm extra early that morning, wanting to be ready for when she arrived. Now he moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and pans. Rachel had provided breakfast for the past two mornings, and while the meals had been tasty, Jamie found he was in the mood for something a bit more substantial than yogurt and fruit, or the homemade muffins she brought from the Gingersnap Bakery. He pulled fixings out of the fridge and cupboards and went to work, determined to surprise her.
Fifteen minutes later, he heard the front door open, and she came into the kitchen with her nose in the air, sniffing appreciatively.
“Is that bacon I smell?”
Jamie grinned as she pulled out a stool and sat down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “Yes, ma’am.”
She set a tote bag onto the floor beside her and surveyed the ingredients on the counter beside him. “Wow, this looks fabulous, Jamie, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m happy to cook breakfast.”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been sitting around doing nothing for long enough. You, Rachel McCafferty, are in for a treat.”
He had sweet potatoes and onions grilling, and now he added spicy chorizo to the mix. He was comfortable in the kitchen, and liked having Rachel there, watching him. He scooped the bacon out of the pan and set it on some paper towels to drain, and then expertly cracked four eggs into the sizzling fat.
“I’m impressed,” Rachel said. “You’ve obviously done this before.”
“Many times.” Jamie indicated the toaster on the counter behind him. “Maybe you can get the toast going for me. There’s a small cup of melted butter in the microwave, and a basting brush in that drawer.”
Rachel did as he asked, and he was aware of her watching covertly as he scooped the potato and chorizo mixture into two shallow bowls, and then laid fresh slices of avocado on top. She buttered the bread as he laid two perfectly cooked eggs over each dish, and topped them with several slices of crisp bacon.
“That really looks fabulous, and it smells amazing,” she said, putting the toast onto a separate plate. “Can I make some coffee?”
“Already done,” he said cheerfully. “If you don’t mind carrying everything out to the pool for me…”
Rachel looked through the connecting doors to where he’d already set the patio table, complete with a pot of coffee, and a pitcher of orange juice.
“Jamie!” she exclaimed in surprise. “That must have taken you forever! How did you get everything out there?”
“I improvised,” he replied, winking at her.
Lifting the plates, Rachel went outside and set the dishes on the table. Jamie followed her, more slowly. He’d probably overdone it a bit, but he wasn’t going to say anything. If Rachel thought he might be tired, she’d insist he rest and then she’d leave. No way was that happening.
“Here, let me get your chair for you,” she said, studying his face. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Never better.”
Once they were seated, Jamie poured the coffee and juice, and began digging into his breakfast. Rachel took a forkful of the chorizo, avocado and egg, and then stared at Jamie in pleasured surprise.
“Oh, this is incredible,” she declared. “I can’t recall the last time I had something so delicious.”
“It’s the spices,” Jamie offered, taking a swallow of coffee. “But don’t ask, because it’s a secret family recipe.”
Rachel laughed softly. “Oh, okay. Well, I’m asking your mother for the recipe when she gets home, and don’t try to stop me.”
Jamie grinned. “Good luck with that. Like I said, it’s a family secret, so you’ll have to marry me if you want it.”
Rachel pretended dismay. “Is that a proposal?”
Jamie looked sharply at her, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Would you accept?”
For a moment, he saw something in her eyes that made him believe she was going to say yes. Then she took a hasty sip of her coffee, avoiding his eyes. “I’m too old for you.”
Jamie barely suppressed a scoffing sound of disgust. “What are you, thirty-two?”
“I just turned thirty-three.”
“So? Big deal.” He let his gaze travel slowly over her. “Look at you—you’re in better shape than most women in their twenties.”
Rachel slid him a tolerant look. “Thanks.”
Jamie shrugged and forced himself to continue eating. The topic intrigued him, since he suspected Rachel had a huge chip on her shoulder about her age. In his opinion, thirty-three was still young. He wanted to convince her their age difference didn’t matter to him, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing that.
“You act as if you’re over the hill,” he said. “Haven’t you heard thirty is the new twenty?”
“That makes you about thirteen, then,” she retorted, but she smiled as she said it, taking the sting out of the words.
“Hey, how’s Dylan doing these days?” he asked, thinking it might be wise to change the subject.
“He’s doing fine, from what I understand,” she replied. “I haven’t seen him recently, but he’s been battling a wildfire in Idaho for a couple of weeks now.”
“I’m hoping I have a chance to see him before I return to duty.”
Rachel gaped at him. “You’re actually going back?”
Jamie lowered his fork. “Of course. It’s my job.”
“But why can’t you find another job?” she persisted. “Maybe one where crazy people aren’t dropping bombs on your head?”
Jamie carefully wiped his mouth. “I’ve wanted to be a Marine since I was a kid.” How could he explain it to her so she would understand? “Those guys and gals in my unit are my family. I can’t just turn and walk away, Rachel.”
He could see the distress in her dark eyes. “But what about your leg? Will they even let you come back?”
“Hmm. That could be a problem,” he admitted.
His leg had been crushed. He’d had four different surgeries on the leg alone. He’d lain in a Bethesda hospital bed for nearly a month with an external fixator on his leg. More than a dozen screws had been attached to his broken bones through small incisions in the skin and muscle, attached to a metal frame on the outside of his leg. The contraption had looked like a mad scientist’s bad experiment. Once the bones had stabilized, they’d removed the external frame, and had put the leg in a cast. He still had plates and screws attached to the bones themselves. He hoped to regain enough strength in the limb to resume his duties, but nothing was certain.
“Couldn’t you ask for a job where you don’t have to deploy?” Rachel asked.
“Like a desk job?” He couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice. “I’d rather be dead than be cooped up in some office every day.”
“Rachel—”
Damn. He’d upset her.
She picked up her plate and made to move past him, but he caught her wrist and drew her to a stop. She didn’t look at him, but neither did she protest when he took the plate from her and set it back on the table, and then drew her down onto his good leg.
“Jamie,” she protested softly. “Your leg…”
“Shh. It’s fine,” he assured her. “I want you to stop worrying about me, okay?”
She bowed her head. She was so close, her breath was a soft puff of warmth against his cheek. He slid a hand beneath the heavy fall of dark hair and lightly cupped her face, letting his fingers trace the delicate contours of her jaw, her ear, her neck. Her breath caught, and it took no more than a slight tilt of his head to press his mouth gently against hers.
She stilled, and her body went rigid. Then she gave a soft exhalation, and her lips moved tentatively against his, returning his kiss. She tasted like sweet orange juice. She leaned in to him, and one hand crept to his shoulder, and then curled around his neck. Jamie made a sound of approval and angled his head for better access.
Her lips were soft and lush, and he could have luxuriated in their moist plumpness all morning, but the last thing he wanted was to scare Rachel off. However reluctantly, he would release her. But before he could break the kiss, she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his lips.
Jamie was lost.
With a soft groan of surrender, he fused his mouth to hers, reveling in the hot slickness of her tongue as she pressed forward. She made a humming sound of pleasure that went straight to his groin and caused his body to react. Jamie had gone without sex—or intimacy of any kind—for more than a year. Now the impact of those long months of forced celibacy hit him with all the force of a sledgehammer, more so because it was Rachel in his arms, kissing him as if her life depended on it.
She slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Jamie buried his hand in the silken mass of her hair and explored her more fully, tasting her. She shifted on his lap, and in another second she would realize just how badly he wanted her. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
Rachel’s breathing was swift and uneven, and for a long moment they just stared at each other. Then she stood up, retrieved the dishes from the table, and fled indoors. Jamie blew out his breath and sagged back in his wheelchair.
Goddamn.
He cursed the busted leg that prevented him from following her inside and carrying her into his bedroom.
He sat on the patio for several long minutes to regain control of his rampant lust. Just as he made the decision to grab his crutches and go after her, Rachel appeared in the doorway. She came over to the table and sat down across from him.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. She gestured helplessly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, and I won’t blame you if you want to fire me.”
Jamie gaped at her. “Fire you? Are you kidding me?”
Rachel gave a self-conscious shrug. “I crossed the line.”
Jamie sat back in his chair and considered her. “It was a kiss, Rachel. One that I initiated. And I’ll be damned if I’ll feel bad about it.”
Rachel drew in a breath. “Thanks. I just don’t want you to think I’m some sort of Mrs. Robinson, who takes advantage of younger men.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not!”
“That’s a damn shame,” Jamie said, with heartfelt regret.
When Rachel laughed, he relaxed a bit. For a moment, he’d been certain she would quit. He didn’t want to pressure her, but their time together was limited. He just needed to convince her how good they could be together, although he knew she’d felt the chemistry. Rachel had definitely been into that kiss. He’d been the one to pull away first, and he hadn’t misread her reaction to him.
She wanted him.
He knew the difference in their age bothered her, but as far as he was concerned, it was a non-issue. Rachel might still think of him as a kid, but he’d had his shit together for a long time, and he knew what he wanted in life. He had a sweet little condo that overlooked the ocean in California, with plans to build a timber-frame house here in Glacier Creek, both for when he had some vacation time, and for when he eventually left the military. He was financially secure, and he had no problems with commitment. In fact, he considered himself a pretty good catch. So what if he didn’t have the money or fame Deke Narducci had? Look how that had turned out for Rachel.
He watched as her face bloomed with color over his remarks. Man, he loved to watch her squirm. Now she looked at him, and he could see her struggling to compose herself.
“I have something planned for today that I think you’ll enjoy,” she finally said, changing the subject.
“Rachel, you don’t have to do that.” Didn’t she know just spending time with her was enough?
“Do what?”
“You don’t have to entertain me,” he said patiently. “I’m perfectly happy just hanging out. In fact, you could go grab your swimsuit and we could just spend the day here, by the pool. I can grill us something for lunch, and we can just have a laid-back day.”
She wavered for a moment, and Jamie knew she was tempted.
“C’mon,” he urged. “You’ve been great, shuttling me all over the place for the past few days. Don’t get me wrong; it’s been fun, but maybe a down day is just what we need.”
Rachel immediately looked alarmed. “Have I been pushing you too hard? I didn’t even ask if these were things you wanted to do.”
Jamie laughed, and shook his head. “No, you haven’t been pushing me. But why don’t we just stay here today? The temps are supposed to get up near eighty today, so it would be nice for you to be able to take a swim.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, pushing her chair back and standing up. “That reminds me—I have something for you!”
He watched with interest as she retrieved her tote bag from the kitchen and carried it out to the patio. Reaching inside, she drew out a box and put it on the table in front of him.
“It’s a waterproof protector for your cast,” she said, smiling. “This way, you won’t have to use a trash bag with duct tape.”
She leaned over his shoulder as he read the instructions on the back, and Jamie reacted instantly. She smelled incredible. Her hair fell forward and brushed against the side of his face and neck. He needed only to turn his head to press his mouth against her cheek. Frowning, he forced himself to focus on the box.
“See?” she said, pointing to a picture diagram. “This bag will fit over your cast and form an airtight vacuum seal to keep water out. And there’s no tape involved, so it won’t be like ripping off a Band-Aid every time you use it.”
“Can I swim with it?” he asked.
Opening the box, he pulled out the blue, rubbery cover and examined it, while Rachel reviewed the instructions.
“This says you can swim with it,” she said doubtfully. “But I’m not sure I’d want to take the chance.”
He tipped his head back and grinned up at her. “Then why did you buy it? It’s either going to work, or it’s not, whether I’m in the shower or the pool.”
Rachel stood up, gathering the rest of the breakfast dishes from the table. “Okay. I’ll just bring these into the house and go change into a swimsuit, and then I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Jamie said as she retreated indoors. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Seven
Rachel returned thirty minutes later to find Jamie had changed into a pair of swim trunks, patterned in varying shades of blue that reminded her of rippling water. He had removed his shirt, and was relaxing under the umbrella in one of the chaises. For a moment, Rachel just stood in the doorway to the patio and stared at him.
He had been shirtless that first day she’d returned home, w
hen she’d found herself literally speechless at the sight of him. Even relaxed as he was now, the sheer physicality of him was impressive. He had one arm bent beneath his head, and Rachel swallowed hard at the sight of his bicep. Despite the long weeks he’d spent in a hospital, his skin was a warm, golden color and the muscles in his chest and abs were more than evident. She didn’t doubt even with his injury, he’d found a way to work out and stay in shape. She crossed the patio to the empty chaise and set her tote bag on the ground between their chairs.
Jamie cracked one eye open and peered at her, and that sliver of bright blue was enough to cause Rachel to blush all over.
“You have too many clothes on,” he observed. His voice was gravelly with sleep.
Rachel kicked off her sandals and perched on the edge of the recliner, but chose to keep her white linen cover-up on. Although it was lightweight and sheer, it came down to her knees and had long, billowy sleeves. There was no need to keep wearing it, since she was in the shade, but no way was she going to remove her only protection from Jamie’s sharp gaze.
She’d spent too much time debating over whether to wear the one-piece Speedo, or the bikini. She’d finally decided the Speedo might make her seem less confident about her body, so had reluctantly opted for the bikini. She kept herself in good shape, but the small signs of her age were there, for those who cared to look closely. And she had a suspicion Jamie missed nothing.
He pushed himself higher on his chaise, and adjusted the backrest so he was no longer reclining. Reaching down, he retrieved the latex cast protector from where it lay on the ground between them, and held it out to Rachel.
“Okay, let’s check this thing out,” he said. “I can usually get a trash bag over my foot, because it’s loose, but I think I’m going to need your help getting this on.”
Rachel took the protector from his hands, and told herself it did not resemble an enormous, blue condom. Only, it sort of did. Standing up, she moved to the foot of his chaise and looked doubtfully at his leg.