Night After Night...

3

CHRISTY WATCHED JASON explode out of the water. He was like Adonis rising from the depths even though it was really the shallow end of the swimming pool. His golden body shed the water in sheets while errant drops clung and sparkled in the sunlight. It was a sight that could have been shot in slow mo and aired on movie screens all over the world. But you couldn’t tell that from his face.

No, despite the fact that Christy was only one of several women ogling his taut body and skimpy Speedos, Jason looked furious. It was a tightly controlled anger. He was a marine, after all, and she suspected he rarely lost control. But as he grabbed a towel and collapsed onto a beach chair, Christy felt his frustration as clearly as if it were tattooed across his rippling pecs.

So she did what she always did when she felt someone was in pain. She grabbed a bribe and waded right in.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked up and squinted at the bowl in her hand. “Hey,” he said.

“I brought this for you. It’s my specialty.” She tucked her sundress skirt beneath her as she settled into the chair beside him.

He took the bowl from her hand, probably more out of politeness than interest. But his eyes had lightened with humor as he looked back at her. “Ice-cream soup?”

She nodded. “I figured after that workout, you needed the calories way more than I did.”

His gaze traveled to the pool and his frown returned. “Yeah. Thanks.” He said it as if he meant it, but he set the bowl aside.

“Punishing yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

His gaze cut to her and there was a coldness there that would have been daunting to anyone who hadn’t grown up with two brothers. But she had, so she wasn’t fazed when he spoke in a clipped tone. “What did you say?”

She shrugged. “Yes, I know I’m being pushy and a busybody, but after that display, I figured someone had to talk to you before you ended up back in the hospital.” She’d done some subtle checking on her kitchen-mate since this morning. She hadn’t learned much. Just that he was here recovering from a medical problem. Since he wasn’t obviously limping or anything—though some of his scars looked very new—she guessed he was on the tail end of his physical recovery. About the time when the psychological stuff became really brutal.

His stare threatened to become a glower, but he held it back. Again, probably because he was being polite. “What display?” His voice was low and quiet, and it sent shivers down her spine.

She tried to speak gently. “You were attacking the water like a boxer might do to a punching bag, but it was water. And you were mad.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. She already knew he was about to tell her to go to hell. But she had extremely macho brothers, which gave her experience, and a need-to-help heart, which made her super-nosy. She couldn’t help it. It was how she was wired. “Summer of change” or not, that part of her personality wasn’t going anywhere.

“I know I’m butting in, so let me be short and sweet. My guess is that you’re pissed off because you somehow think your body has failed you. Logic doesn’t matter. Reason doesn’t make a dent. You’re a guy and a powerful one at that. Something happened and you realize that you can’t will your body into submission. So you’re mad and you’re punishing yourself—or rather your body—because of it. And again I say to you, that’s not going to get you where you want to go.” Then she picked up the ice cream and shoved it back into his hands. “So get some sugar into your blood, and then—after you’ve finished that bowl—you can tell me what I can do with my advice.”

He just stared at her. She’d seen the look before. Her brothers or her father would glare just like that when she managed to bully them into submission. She, the one who some days could barely walk, still had the spirit—and the mouth—to corner them. Annoyance was always clear on their faces, but also resignation. And a grudging respect. That was the best part: when her big bad brothers gave her a little respect.

Thankfully Jason was no different. He started to speak, but she quickly pointed to the bowl. So he lifted the spoon and began to eat her ice cream. And since he couldn’t talk, she decided to fill the silence with chatter.

She knew from experience that crowing about her victory was a bad choice. So she leaned into her chair and looked out across the crowd at the pool. “I didn’t spit in it or anything,” she said. “You probably weren’t thinking that, but my brothers would be. No, I just shared hot-fudge sundaes with my new student Judy. That’s her over there.”

She gestured across the pool to a freckle-faced twelve-year-old with strawberry-blond curls and a stick-thin figure. Jason followed the gesture, his eyes narrowing as he took in the girl who was hanging out at the side of a group of preteens. Judy’s whole posture screamed awkward, especially as she perched a half step back from the group, neither fully engaging nor backing away. Christy’s heart broke seeing the girl hovering there, watching life go by without grabbing hold.

“I’m tutoring her in algebra. Not my most favorite subject, but I’m beginning to realize math isn’t the real problem.” She fell silent, watching as Judy laughed too loud at some joke.

“What is?” Jason’s voice didn’t startle her as much as abruptly bring her attention back to him.

“What?” she asked.

“What is her problem if it’s not math?”

“Oh. Well, what is everyone’s problem at twelve? ‘How do I fit in? I’m ugly. They think I’m a dork. I am a dork.’ You know how it goes.”

She glanced over at him, seeing his thoughtful gaze on the girl. He didn’t say anything, and Christy noted with approval that he had indeed finished all the ice cream. Then she realized what she’d just said. He wouldn’t have been an awkward twelve-year-old. More likely, he’d been the scrappy kid everyone allowed into whatever group simply because no one could ever say no to him.

“Oh,” she said out loud. “You probably don’t remember an awkward phase. That wouldn’t have been your problem.”

His gaze cut hard back to her. “And what would have been my problem?”

“Not failing at anything you put your mind to.”

His eyebrows arched. “That’s a problem?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it is, the minute you hit an obstacle you can’t will your way through.”

He snorted. “I’m a marine. I’m used to impossible obstacles.”

“Which you overcome. Until you hit the one you can’t.”

He shrugged, but the gesture appeared forced. “There’s always a way through or around something. And if there isn’t, you learn how to accept and go on.”

She stretched out her legs in front of her. “So how’s that going, big guy? The accepting part?”

He didn’t answer and in a moment, she wasn’t surprised when he turned the conversation to her. Conversational aggression, a patented guy technique to avoid facing more personal issues. “So what are you going to do about Judy?”

She looked at him. “Do? What do you mean, do? I’m going to tutor her in algebra.”

“But you said that’s not her real problem.” He gestured again to where the girl was still half attached to the group as the others gathered their stuff to go somewhere. Even from here, she could hear the girl thinking: Do I force myself on them? No one invited me to join. Am I pushing in where I’m not wanted? I should just go home. No one wants me here anyway.

Sure enough the other kids started moving away. One of the girls hesitated, looking back uncertainly at Judy. But then one of the boys said something and she turned away, the invitation unspoken. Judy lifted her hand in a sad little wave as everyone else moved on. Then a second later, she swatted at a nearby chair and shuffled off in the opposite direction.

Heartbreaking.

Christy sighed. Childhood sucked. It shouldn’t, but it usually did.

“Someone needs to talk to the other kids. Get them to bring her along.”

She canted a glance at Jason. “‘Cause that’s gonna help. An adult ordering the others to accept her. Any friendships she makes will always be cast in doubt.”

His frown deepened. “So you just leave her to sink or swim on her own?”

“So I feed her ice-cream sundaes even though I’m on a diet and I get her to talk about who she is inside. If I accept her, maybe she’ll be strong enough to risk showing that to someone else too.”

He chewed on that for a moment. “That’s pretty deep for a summer tutor.” He said it like a compliment, so she took it as such.

“There are no shortcuts, even in childhood. Especially in childhood. We want to go fix it for her, but all we can do is give them the space to be who they really are. The rest falls where it will.”

“Voice of experience?”

She laughed. “You asking if my early years in teaching had me telling kids who to accept and how to play? Well, yeah, it did. But I also spent a lot of years watching from the sidelines. I picked up a few things along the way.” She smiled. “Mom used to say I was psychic. I knew things about people without being told. Truth is, I’m just really, really observant.”

“I’m observant,” he said. “You’re … a lot more than that.”

“Okay, so maybe observant plus experienced.” She glanced at his empty bowl. “Feeling better now that you’ve got some blood sugar?”

He snorted again, obviously about to deny it. But he didn’t speak. Instead he gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, all right. Maybe things look better after ice cream.”

“Always my motto.”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m sitting next to a gorgeous woman who does not need to be on a diet.”

A smooth move if ever there was one. Smooth and obvious, but that didn’t stop the zing of excitement deep in her belly. But before she could respond, a quick flash of regret hit his face before he turned away. Like he was sorry for taking the conversation to a sexual level.

“Jason?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking that I’m feeling restless. It’s not good for a marine to be restless. I need to do something.”

Now, it was her turn to snort. “So we’re back to punishing yourself.”

“What?” The word was clipped and hard.

She gestured again at the pool. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that your extra anxiety has nothing to do with a problem you can’t solve. Tell me that you’re not burning energy out of anger and I’ll shut up. But you seem awful pissed off to me.”

“I’m not angry!” he snapped. Then he abruptly flushed and moderated his tone. “I mean, yeah, maybe I’m frustrated, but when I’m angry, believe me, you’ll know it. Everybody knows it.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward a bit. “I’m a yeller. When I get angry, I get right in the asshole’s face and just let fly.”

“That’s not anger. That’s a military thing. You call it discipline and whatever. But if I had to guess, you tuck fury deep inside, bury it hard. Then you go blow something up. Don’t marines like explosives? Like to an unhealthy degree?”

He didn’t answer for a long while. She found she liked that about him. That he didn’t blurt out the first thing that came to his mind like she often did. No, he was a thoughtful man. And then, he smiled at her. A slow smile that had her thoughts heading somewhere very different indeed.

“I’m going with your mom,” he said. “Definitely psychic.”

“Don’t I wish. It would make tutoring a zillion times easier. Or maybe not. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what my fifteen-year-old boys are thinking.”

Jason chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you already do know what they’re thinking. Especially if you were wearing that dress. And I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be in words. More like graphic—”

“Stop!” she said, laughing. “I really don’t want to think about my students in those terms.”

“Fair enough!” he said as he abruptly surged to his feet. “Come on. I feel like a bike ride. Wanna join me?”

She smiled up at him. He was holding out his hand, offering to help her up. She took it, almost shyly, not because she was embarrassed about touching him. On the contrary, with the things she was thinking, hands were the smallest of touches she wanted to share with him. It was more about his unexpected offer. A bike ride. When was the last time someone had asked her to go riding?

“I …” she began.

“Do you have another tutoring appointment?”

“No. No, I’m done for the day. But …” But what? She rapidly thought of an excuse. “I don’t have a bike.”

“That’s okay. They rent them along the beach. Come on. It’ll be my treat.”

She shook her head. “There’s no way I can keep up with you. You’ll spend the whole time irritated because I’m huffing and puffing behind you.”

He frowned. “What am I? Eight? I’m not talking about training.”

“Good, because you already did that in the pool.”

He shrugged. “I’m talking about a leisurely bike ride. I’ll show you the base and stuff.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, wasn’t this why she was in Hawaii in the first place? To do things that no one ever asked her to do? To push her limits without someone coddling her? An afternoon bike ride was exactly what she needed to do. She’d be fine if they went slow.

“Okay,” she said. “Lead on. I’ll follow.” Or die trying.

4

WELL, SHE CERTAINLY WASN’T an athlete. Jason smiled as Christy huffed out another breath. They had finally biked their way to the rise on a very small hill. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts bounced distractingly as she moved, and she was so cute that he was rock hard just from seeing her pant.

“Look at that view,” she breathed as she gestured out at the rolling waves of the Pacific.

He was looking at the view he wanted to see, but he forced himself to look away. Especially since he was not in a place right now to start a relationship. Even a temporary one. And definitely not one with a settle-down-and-marry girl like Christy. Still, it was awful hard to bring himself to look at the waves.

“Ooh! I think those are dolphins!” She hopped off her bike. He saw her grimace as she stepped down and wondered if she’d twisted her ankle, but she was walking just fine as she stepped to the edge of the path. The view wasn’t all that great. She had to peak through a small break between two buildings and below the waving fronds of some big tree. That, naturally, had him stepping right up behind her to see where she was pointing.

His hands actually itched with the desire to wrap around her waist and pull her against him. She was wearing shorts and a loose tee that could be lifted up with the slightest effort. Her scent spiced the air and just the tiniest tilt of his head would have him nuzzling her neck. But he held himself back.

“Nice,” he said, not meaning the dolphins.

She twisted to look back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were sparkling. “You’re not even looking.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered absolutely deadpan.

She tried to shove him backward. He didn’t move. He liked being close to her, even though he’d just told himself to leave her alone. Truthfully, he liked everything he’d discovered about her. Easy on the eyes was only one of her attributes. She laughed a lot. She spoke her mind. And she even had a kid’s enjoyment of biking even though she was obviously not used to it. It was as if this whole bike ride was a special treat for her. One that he got to share.

That was sexy as hell, and he had to remind himself to remain a gentleman. Meanwhile, she rolled her eyes.

“You guys are all the same. Never notice the tropical scenery. Just the girl in the bikini.”

“Wait,” he said with a mock frown. “There’s a tropical scene somewhere?”

“The bikini girls are over there,” she said, gesturing down at the beach.

His gaze didn’t even flicker. “You don’t need a bikini to make guys look at you.”

He spoke the absolute truth, but she turned away as if embarrassed. It wasn’t false modesty, he realized. She really was uncomfortable with her body’s appearance.

“Hey,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

She twisted to face him, bit her lip, then said, “You know how you always want what you don’t have? Well, I’ve always wanted to be fit and toned like them.” She gestured toward the girls playing beach volleyball. “Instead, I’m soft, round and have a full rack.”

He arched his brows at her semicrude term, but it didn’t throw him. He liked that she was speaking honestly to him, so he answered in kind. “Guys like full racks.”

“That’s all guys see. Clothes never fit right, guys assume I’m easy, and people think I’m lazy because of the weight.”

He didn’t know how to answer that. She was right in part. Her breasts were the first thing people noticed about her. But in a good way, not bad. At least as far as he was concerned. She crossed her arms, distracting him again, which probably made her point.

“You’re not fat,” he said emphatically.

“Thank you, and I know I work hard to keep it that way. I just wish … I just wish I had a different body, that’s all.”

He frowned, a little disappointed in her. She seemed like such a confident woman, it surprised him that she had issues with her appearance. He’d known scores of women who obsessed endlessly about ridiculous “flaws” in their appearance. Your body was your body. There were lots of ways to get it healthier, but wishing to be taller, chestier or whatever was a waste of time.

She was moving back to her bike, slipping around him as best as she could. Moving completely on impulse, he held out his arm to block her path.

“I could help you get more fit,” he offered. “Simple exercises to improve your cardio, light weights. Nothing—”

“Nothing like what a marine does before breakfast?”

He flashed a rueful smile. “No one expects you to be a marine. But if you want to be more fit, then do it. An hour a day—”

“Will keep the doctor away. Maybe for you, but I’m civilian all the way. I’ll never be able to keep up.”

She moved around him to get back to her bike, and this time he let her. She walked stiffly while he just stood there and watched her, pieces slowly fitting into place. “Your father was military, right?”

“Air force. Why?”

“And did you have brothers?”

“Two. Air force and navy, respectively.”

“So you were the only girl?”

“Yeah. The youngest of three.”

Now he began to understand. “That must have sucked growing up. No way a younger girl can keep up with two older brothers. Physically it just can’t happen. So why bother?”

She studied him, obviously thinking. He liked that she was listening to him, actively processing his words instead of merely reacting. In the end she released a heavy sigh. “You know why I teach kindergarten?”

He shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn’t known what grade she taught in Ohio.

“Because the kids don’t let me tank out. Any other grade, you can sit at a desk at least part of the time. You can rest a bit, take a load off, do something less physically demanding.”

“Not in kindergarten, huh?”

She scoffed. “The last time I took a five-minute break, Joey stuffed a Barbie shoe into his nose.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. You’d think he wouldn’t have pushed something that pointy up there, but he did.”

“And you learned to never sit again.”

“Oh, I do. After school. But for eight hours a day—I teach both shifts—I’m moving all the time. Because the kids demand it.”

He frowned, working to sort through her message. “Are you trying to say that you work hard enough?”

“No. I’m saying that without someone forcing me, I don’t work at all. A little cardio would be good for me. I can try an hour a day.”

“I’m not forcing you,” he said. “You have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted. “You’re not forcing anything on me at all.” Then she eyed the path, looking both ahead and behind. “So you think you can find a way back that will take an hour? A light hour.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”

In truth, the journey took an hour and fifteen, and at the end of it, he could tell she was wiped. By the time they made it to her room door, he could tell they’d overdone it. Her gait was very stiff, but she was also smiling, clearly happy. And he had never felt so relaxed either. They’d managed to talk for almost the entire ride. He used it to gauge her exertion level, but honestly, it had been awesome to swap childhood stories.

She’d grown up on base with older brothers who found ways to run wild. He’d grown up on the poor side of Indianapolis where running wild was the only way to survive. There was a lot in common between them, yet also enough of a difference to make the telling exciting. But now that the time was over, he found himself looking down into her eyes and wanting something so much more from her than shared stories.

“This was great. I had a great time,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her lips. “Um, hey, make sure to pop some ibuprofen. Don’t want you sore tomorrow.”

An expression flashed across her face that he couldn’t read. Humor? Regret? Annoyance? He really had no idea and the second it registered, it disappeared. Then it occurred to him that she might not have any pills. It probably wasn’t the lifesaving staple that it was for marines.

“You know, I have a whole bottle—”

“I got some. Don’t worry. I’ll medicate.”

And then they both just stood there, her with her back to her door, him leaning over her about half a breath away from kissing her.

“You were right,” he said abruptly.

She blinked. “About what?”

“Earlier. When you said I was mad about something. About how my body has betrayed me somehow.” He slumped against the wall, knowing he needed to confess this now or he’d never get it out. “I was in a jeep and we drove over an IED.”

She gasped. “An IED like a bomb IED?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We were lucky that it was really badly made. Five of us, and we all got out alive.”

He saw the shudder run through her whole body, and remembered why he didn’t talk about these things with civilians. It was horrible, but it was also something marines learned to deal with from day one. They could get blown up any minute. If you were lucky, you survived. Nobody liked it, but you either dealt with it or went nuts.

“I’m fine, obviously. Weak, out of shape, but coming back.”

“You’re not weak, Jason. You’re a moron if you think you’re weak.”

He dipped his chin. “Okay, I’m weaker than I used to be. But like I said, my strength’s coming back. But there’s a different problem.”

She watched him closely, clearly waiting for him to continue without pushing him to speak before he was ready. It took him a breath, but he got there.

“I’ve got amnesia. I can’t remember stuff before or after getting blown up.”

“I’d think that was normal. And that you probably won’t get everything back.”

He nodded. “That’s what the docs say.”

He’d gone over it a thousand times in his head. The mission had been to find a biological weapons factory. They knew it was somewhere in the Philippines. That’s it. Somewhere in a whole freaking country. But using logic—and a lot of footwork—they’d found it. Or rather, Jason had found it. He’d figured out where the thing was right before getting blown up by the IED. And now he couldn’t remember where it was.