Operation K-9 Brothers

by Sandra Owens

  “I used to be.”

  “But not anymore?” Why did he think that when he easily made her laugh?

  “Didn’t have much to laugh about after getting hurt. Things are starting to amuse me again, though. A part of that is that I’m healing, and I’ll be back with my team soon, and a part of that is because of you. You make me happy.”

  How was she supposed to resist falling for him when he said things like that? When he looked at her as if she was the reason for that sweet smile on his face? Did she even want to try? Not really, but she had to. Once back with his team, he’d forget about her. But he was here now, and she was going to enjoy him while she could.

  “I had an interesting day,” he said, leaning his back on the counter. “Did you know there’s a service dog training facility out on Old Mill Road? That’s out past Leicester.”

  “No, I’ve never been out that way.”

  “It’s a pretty drive. We’ll take a ride there sometime. Anyway, I stumbled on the facility and met the owner.”

  “That sounds like something you’d really enjoy,” she said when he finished telling her about the volunteer opportunity. She loved how his eyes lit up with excitement.

  A buzzer chimed, and he shot her a grin over his shoulder as he opened the oven door. “Yeah, it does. And I’m going a little stir crazy with nothing to do except physical therapy three days a week, so it gives me someplace else to go.”

  A few minutes later he placed a salad and a plate of Mexican lasagna in front of her. She’d never dated a man who’d cooked for her, never been with a man who’d made her feel special. Bit by bit, he was chipping away at her heart. How would he react if he knew that?

  He’d been up-front that he would be leaving, and she guessed that it was best if she hid these growing feelings she had for him. If he knew that she was falling for him, he would disappear.

  The food was delicious but the serving huge. She pushed her plate away after making her way through half the meal. “I can’t eat another bite. That was delicious. What else can you cook?”

  “Why? You looking for a personal chef?”

  “Wouldn’t that be awesome? My dream man is both a chef and hairdresser, and since this is my fantasy, he’s amazing in bed.”

  His grin was positively wicked. “Got two of those covered, but tomorrow I’ll enroll in hair styling school.”

  She tapped her fingers over her chest. “Be still my heart.”

  He shook his head. “Stilling your heart is not the objective tonight. In fact—”

  Pink’s song “Trouble” sounded from his phone, and he groaned. “Grammie.” He scooted his chair back. “Sorry. If I don’t answer, she’ll just keep calling until I do.”

  “So, ‘Trouble’ is her ringtone?” That was funny. She needed to meet his Grammie.

  “Yes, and more fitting than you can imagine.” He grabbed his phone from the counter. “What’s up, Grammie?” As he listened, his eyes widened, then they slammed shut. He dropped his phone against his leg, opened his eyes, and looked at her. “Please tell me today is April first. Lie if you have to.”

  Oh, boy. What had his grandmother done now? “Sure, for you I’ll lie. It’s April Fool’s Day.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” He put his phone back to his ear. “Take it down right now, Grammie... I don’t need help finding a girlfriend. I have one.”

  A few seconds after saying that, he pressed his phone against his leg again. “I didn’t mean to say that. Now I have to bring you to Saturday morning pancake breakfast.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he slammed the phone to his ear again. “She might be busy.” He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not making up a fake girlfriend.”

  Nichole’s amusement grew with each minute he talked to his grandmother. Finally, she couldn’t hold back her laughter. His gaze fell on her, and he narrowed his eyes. Not funny, he mouthed, but his lips twitched.

  “No, I do not need a backup plan in case it doesn’t work out. Take it down, or I won’t bring Nichole to breakfast... Yes, it’s a pretty name, and no, I’m not sending you a picture. Gotta go, Grammie. See you Saturday.”

  “What did she do?” Nichole asked after he disconnected. Instead of answering, he walked out of the room, returning moments later with a laptop. After sitting in the other chair, he logged onto the computer.

  “I never should have taught her how to use a computer,” he muttered.

  “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I didn’t think she could top the cock sock, but I was wrong.” He turned the screen toward her.

  “She put you on a dating site?”

  “If only that was all she did. Read my bio.”

  Hello. I’m Jack

  A man with impressive sacs

  I have other remarkable parts

  And I’m not just talking about my heart

  I will treat you like a queen

  Even give you my spleen

  If you are the girl of my dreams

  I will make you steam

  As you cry out my name

  When we play our bedroom games

  I will make you mine

  For all time

  Jack watched Nichole read the ridiculous poem or whatever it was that his grandmother had posted, no doubt with Dirty Mary’s help. Amusement filled her eyes, and she pressed her lips together as she tried not to laugh.

  He sighed. “Go ahead and laugh.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said after regaining her composure. “Now I know where you got your sense of humor. Your grandmother’s a riot.” She scrolled down the page. “And look, you have seventeen responses already.”

  He slapped the laptop closed. “Grammie can answer them, ’cause I’m not.”

  “Aren’t you even curious? The girl of your dreams might be there.”

  He stroked a finger over her bottom lip. “The girl of my dreams is sitting right in front of me.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  “Nichole...” He almost asked her if she’d wait for him when he was on deployment, but neither one of them were ready for that question yet.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he said instead, swallowing the words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

  “Yes, please.”

  Surprising him, she crawled onto his lap, straddling his legs. He put his hands on her hips, stared into those beautiful golden-brown eyes, and wondered what it was about her that had him thinking of a future with her. And even more remarkable, he was good with it.

  He lifted a hand to the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his. Her lips were soft against his, her scent washed over him, and he knew that he was lost to this woman. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, needing to taste her, and damn, she tasted delicious.

  She pressed against his chest, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart, proof that she was as affected as him. He growled his satisfaction. Their breaths mingled until he didn’t know where his ended and hers began.

  “I want you, Nichole. I need you.” He didn’t care that he’d just given her power over him by admitting his need for her. She could rip him to shreds, and he’d let her. But maybe that was easy to believe because he knew to the bottom of his heart that she wouldn’t.

  He stood with her wrapped around him and headed for his bedroom, the dogs hot on his heels. “Stay,” he said, kicking the door closed before they could come in.

  Rambo whined, but Dakota was silent, and he knew she’d positioned herself in front of the door where she could stand guard. Rambo whined again as he scratched the wood. Dakota gave a sharp bark, one Jack recognized as a reprimand. He smiled when silence followed.

  “Wish he minded me the way he does her,” Nichole said.

  “Don’t wanna talk about the dogs right no
w.” He still held her in his arms, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. Just having her pressed against him was playing havoc to his self-control.

  “Me either.” She touched her lips to his.

  He turned, then fell back on the bed with her sprawled on top of him. Jack had never been much on kissing. It was too intimate, too much like saying there were feelings involved. But then, he’d never had Nichole to kiss. He slid his hands under her T-shirt.

  “Off,” he said, the word coming out as a command.

  She pushed up, gave him a sexy smile, and then pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Holding his gaze with hers, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms. She raised her brows as she crossed her arms, holding the bra against her breasts.

  Little tease. “Drop it,” he ordered.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She was playful in the bedroom, and he liked that. “While you’re thinking, I’ll just do this.” He put an arm around her back and flipped them, snatching the bra off as they rolled.

  “Where did it go?” she said, peering down at herself.

  “Away.”

  “Sneaky,” she said, grinning at him. “They teach you sneak techniques in SEAL school?”

  “Baby, I learned how to steal bras as a young whippersnapper.” That got him a laugh. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  “Oh, I do. I’m just visualizing you as a”—she made air quotes—“young whippersnapper going around and stealing bras off clotheslines.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Damn, he really liked this girl.

  “What else did you learn while whippersnapping?”

  “The answer to that is best shown.”

  “Then show me what you got, sailor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He skimmed his fingers up her stomach to her breasts. “So beautiful.”

  The navy had taught him discipline and control, and it was going to take every ounce of those teachings to not embarrass himself because every sexy inch of her had him teetering on the edge. No woman had ever gotten to him the way this one did, and that had him thinking of possibilities.

  Who was this man thinking of a forever, a word so foreign to him that he should be breaking out in a cold sweat? Instead, as crazy as it sounded in his head, he was all in.

  Was she?

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’re staring at me,” Nichole said. Desire—hot and heavy—had been in his eyes as he’d gazed at her breasts, but something else was in them now, something soft and deeper.

  “I’m a guy. Breasts are our kryptonite.” His gaze traveled up to her lips. “A woman’s mouth falls into that category, too, because of what it can do.” As if in agreement, his erection pulsed against her core.

  She grinned. “That is such a man thing to say.”

  He smirked. “We’re simple creatures. Truth, I want you so bad, baby, that I’m not even sure of my name right now.”

  “Names are overrated.” She tugged on the hem of his T-shirt. “Off.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He covered her mouth with his, and impressing her with his stealth skills, had them both undressed before she knew what was happening.

  That was because the man knew how to kiss, and when he did, the world ceased to exist, even the loss of her shorts and panties going unnoticed. From her mouth he moved to her neck, nibbled and sucked until he had her moaning, then he licked his way to her breasts.

  Settled between her legs, his erection teased her as it rubbed against her while his talented tongue and fingers played with her breasts. Need was a fire raging inside her, every nerve ending sensitive to his touch. It was too much...it wasn’t enough.

  “Jack,” she murmured.

  “Hush, I’m busy here.” He slid his hands down her sides to her hips, then trailed a path to her stomach. Then lower. And lower.

  He was very busy, and his busy was good. No, simply good didn’t come close to what he was doing to her, to the things he was making her feel. It was... “Mind-blowing.”

  “Yeah?”

  She’d said that aloud? When she came undone against his mouth, he gave a grunt that sounded like pure male satisfaction. He climbed back up her body, lowered himself over her, and kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, as if she was the oxygen he needed to keep his heart beating.

  As for her own heart, she thought it might pound itself right out of her chest.

  “I’m burning up for you, Nichole. If you knew all the things I want to do to you—”

  “Like what?”

  “Dirty things. Things that are going to make you moan my name, then beg me to make you come. But I’m not going to.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Not until you can’t take it anymore, and then you’re going to scream my name.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, biting down on it, sending delicious tingles through her.

  “You like hearing your name that much?” Was that raspy, breathless voice hers?

  “Coming out of your mouth, yes.” He lifted onto his elbows, putting most of his weight on his good arm, and stared down at her, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “You might be...no, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “For you, I want to be.” And she did want to be beautiful to this man in a way she’d never needed to for any other. She scraped her fingernails down his chest, smiling when he closed his eyes on a shudder. “Make love to me, Jack.”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom that he’d apparently put there when he’d stripped them of their clothes. The man really was stealthy.

  “Do you feel how perfectly we fit together?” he said after slipping into her, then stilling as if he felt their connection as deeply as she.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her I’m not going to fall for this man walls were crumbling around her as if they’d been erected with no more than sand, easily blown away by a mere breeze. Although there was nothing mere about Jack Daniels.

  He was going to break her heart.

  * * *

  “What’s a girl to do?” Nichole glanced at Dakota and Rambo, both sitting at her feet. Dakota whined, seeming to grasp Nichole’s thoughts. Unable to sleep, she’d slipped out of bed to sit in Jack’s living room and consider her options. There were only two, really. Keep seeing Jack until he left her behind to nurse her broken heart, or walk away now, only suffering minor damage.

  Hard choice, that. What were the chances that he’d want a long-distance relationship? That by his time to leave he would ask her to wait for him? Slim, maybe? He’d been up-front with her that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. Even after saying he wanted to romance her, he hadn’t said a thing that gave her hope he might ask her to wait for him. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t when it was time for him to leave, which left it up to her to decide if she should walk out his door right now or crawl back into bed with him.

  “Okay, guys, bark once for taking a chance on Jack or twice for I’m crazy for even thinking of doing that.”

  Dakota barked once. Nichole blinked. No way that dog understood the question. Rambo—apparently taking his cue from Dakota—barked. Once.

  “That’s easy for you two to say. It’s not your heart on the line.”

  When she’d climaxed, shattering in his arms, for a moment she’d thought they were having an earthquake. It had been that explosive, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. And when Jack had reverently whispered her name in her ear and held her close as his body trembled after his release, she’d felt cherished. That maybe he was letting her into his heart. She’d never been a gambling girl, but perhaps he was worth the risk.

  “Burning up!”

  At those shouted words, Dakota’s ears pointed straight up as she
jerked her gaze to the hallway, then she raced away. Nichole followed, stopping at the door to Jack’s bedroom and taking in the scene illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window. He thrashed on the bed, his legs tangled in the covers. Dakota put her front paws on his chest, licked his face, then barked.

  Jack sat straight up in bed, his chest heaving. He buried his face in the fur on Dakota’s neck with such familiarity that Nichole knew his nightmare wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Her heart was breaking like she had believed it would, but not for the reason she’d thought.

  This man needed her. But she sensed that he wouldn’t want her seeing him like this, so she quietly slipped away, returning to the living room. Had he been dreaming that he was burning up? A nightmare of when he’d been hurt by the bomb?

  Unsettled, she roamed around the room, stopping when she came to an end table she hadn’t noticed before. The table was next to a well-worn recliner that she guessed was Jack’s favorite seat when watching TV. She smiled at seeing the figurine he’d insisted on buying from her. Sitting behind it was a metal sculpture of a dog that she recognized as one of Forest Ellers’s. An image of a man in military camouflage kneeling in front of a dog formed in her mind, and she wished she was at her studio.

  She brushed her fingers over the girl and dog figurine, then returned to the sofa, tucking her legs under her. Tomorrow she’d search online for a mold of a soldier and dog. If she could find one, she’d make it for Jack.

  “Hey, you weren’t in bed.”

  Holy hotness. The man standing a few feet from her blinking sleepy eyes, his hair tousled, and wearing only a pair of dark blue boxer briefs, would have been her deepest fantasy if only she’d known there was a man like him to fantasize about. No reason she couldn’t start now, though.

  “Did you miss me?” She patted the sofa cushion. With those words, she realized she’d made her decision. She wasn’t walking away. If the result of that was a broken heart, so be it.

  He settled next to her. “You weren’t there,” he said, sounding grouchy.

  “My bad.” She didn’t want to tell him that she’d spent the past hour debating the wisdom of continuing to see him. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Mmm. You’re as good as sitting next to a furnace. That’ll come in handy in the winter.” Not that it would do her any good. He’d probably be on the other side of the world somewhere.