Книга - Basic Training

Basic Training
Julie Miller


She wants him to what? That's Marine Corps captain Travis McCormick's reaction when his old friend Tess Bartlett asks for basic training in sex. He's back in his hometown to recover from injuries and is glad that sweet, easy-to-talk-to Tess will be his physiotherapist.But the last thing he expects is that she'll ask for a trade: she'll heal him if he'll bed her!Turns out inexperienced Tess wants to explore her sexual side. Travis is happy to comply–she's incredibly desirable and doesn't even know it. But when a fellow marine sets his sights on Travis's new recruit, he realizes that sexually liberating Tess may have been a tactical error. And he'll need all his seductive skills to make sure she's signing up for a permanent post in his bed–and no one else's!









Base to McCormick. McCormick, come in! Retreat! Retreat!


Even disguised in his commanding officer’s voice, the warning signals firing off in Travis’s head couldn’t get through the static of full-blown desire that was short-circuiting every common-sense impulse in his body.

Tess was wrong. He wasn’t laughing. And he sure as hell wasn’t thinking of her as his sister!

This girl was a natural. Every move he made, she answered back with her lips and a chorus of hot, sexy moans that hummed in her throat. He wanted her closer and she’d obliged. No, she’d taken charge with innocent abandon, crawling on top of him, spreading her knees beside his hips, rubbing her breasts against his chest and sinking that white promise of satisfaction against his throbbing groin.

He dragged his lips to her throat to taste the drumming beat of her pulse beneath his tongue. “Trav—” she gasped, arching her back and inviting his lips into the unbuttoned gap of her shirt.

Retreat, soldier! Retreat!

But his mind was lost in the moment—lost in his reawakening sense of power, of virility. He was lost in a woman—his old friend, Tess. And he suddenly knew his life would never be the same again….









Dear Reader,

As my brother headed into a war zone for the second time in his life, I found it difficult to get started on this story with a wounded military hero the way I’d originally envisioned it. But after some introspection (and good talks with my family and the families of other military personnel—you guys rock!), I decided the focus wouldn’t be on the thrills and dangers inherent in such a career—though that still plays a key role in the story—but rather on the joys and challenges of coming home after being in the action.

Many military spouses, parents, siblings and children I spoke with talked about how some things never change when a loved one is away, serving his or her country, while other things change greatly. Expectations must be flexible, and often family members and service personnel must adapt to new roles while apart, and again when reunited.

Dealing with such changes became the focus of Basic Training. Tess and Travis have returned to the town where they grew up—and on the surface, it seems like old home, old friends, old times. But they soon realize that she’s no longer just the girl-next-door, and her Marine Corps hero is more than the hunky best bud he used to be.

I hope that readers can feel the happiness, pride and relief of family, friends and community welcoming home one of their own. I also hope you’ll enjoy the journey as Tess and Travis evolve into their new roles—deeper, bolder, sexier and closer than two friends have a right to be.

Happy reading,

Julie Miller




Basic Training

Julie Miller







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For the 110


Engineer Battalion.

Prayers and pride for those soldiers and their families.

And for my favorite Captain, in particular, be smart,

watch your back and take care.

Love you.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13




1


TRAVIS MCCORMICK had come home.

“Travis,” Tess Bartlett whispered. She tucked her suitcase into the closet of her old bedroom and hurried to the window to see with her own eyes the return of the conquering hero.

He’d come so far. Been through so much.

Tess was almost ashamed to admit that she’d barely ventured away from the homefront. After college, one thing after another had seemed to draw her back to Ashton, Virginia. She’d come home when a cancer scare had left her widowed mother feeling vulnerable and alone. Then, she’d done her physical therapy internship here and stayed on when the hospital had offered her a generous salary to become a member of their staff.

She had her own apartment, her own career. She had old and new friends who were an integral part of her life. And when push came to shove, she could even finagle herself a date on a Saturday night.

But in one way, Tess had never moved on. Tess had never shared a bond with anyone, not even her sister and mother, like the one she shared with Travis. She’d lived so much of her life vicariously through him. He was a military hero with skills and knowledge she could only guess at. As a Marine, he’d traveled the world. Fought beside the bravest warriors and strategized with the best military minds.

And yet she’d always, always believed he was glad to come back to Ashton to see her, his little buddy Tess.

Over the years of their friendship, he’d confessed triumphs and tribulations that were their secrets alone. He never hesitated to offer a hug or a wink or a smile. He’d stood beside her and taken the heat when their youthful practical jokes had gotten them into trouble. And she’d stood beside him and listened and held his hand when that strong United States Marine hadn’t been quite strong enough.

Would their friendship take up where they’d left off before he’d been called up for a covert assignment more than a year ago? She was thrilled that he was finally coming home to Ashton after spending most of that year in a hospital and therapy. But she knew he wouldn’t be thrilled that he’d been injured while training for that mission—before ever shipping out overseas.

Despite the circumstances, was he looking forward to reconnecting with an old friend for a few weeks as much as she was?

Hidden by the glare of the afternoon sun off the water from Chesapeake Bay, Tess peeked through the curtains of the second-story bedroom window in the house where she’d grown up, next door to the McCormicks’ bayside colonial. She and her older sister, Amy, had timed their annual summer get-together with their mom to coincide with the U.S. Marine Corps captain’s homecoming. They were all invited over that evening for a welcome-home party, but Tess couldn’t wait that long to see him with her own eyes. She couldn’t wait to reassure herself that the boy next door—her classmate, teammate, and longtime friend—had finally come home after a full year.

She was thirty-three years old, had known Travis for more than half her life, and she still couldn’t stop that little hitch in her breath each time she saw him. Damn the man. He was that good looking. Each reunion stirred her blood—as if she were discovering that well-sculpted hunk of testosterone for the first time. Discovering those clear blue eyes, that sexy crop of dark blond hair hugging the perfect shape of his head, and those shoulders broad enough to lead men and seduce women with equal success.

Tess closed her eyes and diligently ignored the heated rush of hormones that tripped along her pulse. She and Travis had been friends for far too long. She knew his taste in women—everything from busty and mysterious to slim and flirty. Blondes, brunettes, redheads all qualified—just as long as they weren’t afraid of their sexuality, and weren’t hung up about the whole commitment thing.

Tess opened her eyes on a frustrated huff. She might as well enjoy the view because that’s all she’d be getting. No way in hell did she qualify as more than a friend to Travis. They’d shared just that one awkward kiss in college—and fortunately, Travis had been too drunk to remember it. Her inability to turn his head was probably why they’d been able to remain such good friends over the years.

First, the word sexy simply didn’t apply to her practically-proportioned body, which was better suited for softball than seduction. Her bland hazel eyes and generic brown hair had never turned heads. Even with contact lenses to halt the nickname of “Four Eyes” from high school, and a few golden highlights to give her ponytail some pizzazz, she still oozed smarts and sensibility—not sex appeal.

Second, her sense of humor and reliability, which made her a trusted ally when it came to pulling off practical jokes and keeping secrets, made her a dud in the come-hither department. Back in high school she’d learned that sweaty shortstops and salutatorians didn’t get asked to the senior prom if they lacked the boobs or legs or feminine mystique to compensate for an error-free season and nearly perfect GPA.

And third, in a small town like Ashton, Virginia, once you got labeled with a reputation for being a brainiac or tomboy or good ol’ gal, you were stuck.

Tess had been stuck for fifteen years.

“Hey, Tess. You upstairs?” Ah, yes. Her big sister, Amy, had much nicer labels. She had managed to get the right blend of genes to allow her to be smart, accomplished and sexy. Of course, she also wound up with the gene that allowed her to marry a real loser, and now the newly divorced school teacher had returned to her roots as much to heal from the nasty breakup as to support the Bartlett women’s summer tradition of helping out at the festival. “Tess?”

Tess drew back from the window as if the call might alert the McCormicks to her subtle spying. “In here.”

But she couldn’t walk away. Not until she saw for her own eyes that Travis was alive. That the bomb that had shredded his body hadn’t killed him. That his handsome mouth could still smile and those devilish blue eyes could still sparkle with mischief.

Tess answered the soft knock at her door without turning away from the scene visible through the lacy sheers at her window. “Come on in.”

“Getting a sneak peek before tonight’s festivities?” Amy asked, curling her long legs beneath her as she perched on the corner of Tess’s bed.

“I’m just anxious to see Trav,” Tess admitted, watching Travis’s father, retired Brigadier General Hal McCormick, climb out from behind the wheel of his silver Chevy Suburban and stride up the sidewalk to the front door. Even at age 60, with a dusting of silver in his short blond hair, the man’s military bearing was unmistakable. “The last time I talked to Travis in the hospital, he told me not to come visit. Said he’d be home soon enough.”

Amy frowned as she joined Tess at the window. “What was that—two, three months ago?”

“Try six.” She hugged her arms around her waist, trying not to feel the lingering sting of his rejection. “He’s been out of the hospital since then, but I doubt he’d be in Ashton now if he hadn’t finally been ordered to take some R and R. Hal said he’d been working a desk job, but that Travis was so gung-ho about getting back to his Special Forces unit and whatever mission they were prepping for that he overdid his physical training and actually set back his recovery.”

A pretty, perky brunette Tess identified as Travis’s sister-in-law, J.C., climbed out of the backseat and opened the back of the Suburban to retrieve a couple of suitcases. J.C.’s husband, Ethan McCormick, followed right behind her in his khaki and olive green lieutenant colonel’s uniform. He took both suitcases from her. She snatched one back. The argument that flared briefly between them ended with a perfunctory kiss. And then another, lingering this time. Then one more that lasted long enough for Amy and Tess to sigh in unison.

“You know, I always thought that at least one of us would wind up with a McCormick.” Amy crossed her arms to match Tess’s stance. They both giggled as Ethan’s independent wife let him have the suitcase he insisted on carrying, but then pulled another bag from the car and scooted around him to follow Hal before Ethan could stop her. “We’ve lived next door to those two hotties for how many years? Now I’m divorced from Barry Can’t-Keep-His-Pants-Zipped, and you’re…”

Doomed to spinsterhood? Sentenced to celibacy?

Amy pursed her lips, searching for the right word to finish her sentence. “Unattached.” Her brown eyes were full of honest regret as she looked down at Tess. “You know I don’t mean anything by that, right? You could have any man you wanted if you stopped listening to what the busybodies in this town have to say and just set your mind to it. Mom said you’d been dating Morty Camden,” she added hopefully.

“Sure. Rub salt in an old wound. Morty might be the one person in town who’s getting less sex than I am.”

Her big sister didn’t seem entirely relieved that Tess had made a joke of it. “But sex isn’t the only reason to go out with a guy, right? He’s a nice guy, isn’t he? Doesn’t he run his own business?”

“He’s nice enough,” Tess agreed. She was having a hard time picturing Morty’s earnest face and receding hairline as she waited for Travis to emerge from the vehicle below them. “He has his own accounting firm. But he’s just a friend. Basically, we’re each other’s escort whenever something comes up.”

They served together on the same committee that organized the fishing competition and other events for Ashton’s annual Summer Bay Festival. Slated to start the following Monday and run the first full week of July, the festival drew in tourists, locals and a slew of sailors, Marines and soldiers from nearby bases for a celebration both on and off the water of Chesapeake Bay. Her “dates” with Morty had been little more than friendly business meetings. The closest they’d come to bodily contact was a little hand holding and a few high-five’s.

But Tess didn’t elaborate. Ethan had closed the rear hatch and was circling the car now. Leaning forward ever so slightly, Tess peered through the slit in the curtains. “Don’t you think there’s something a little too big-brotherly about Ethan and Travis for us to get involved with either of them?”

Man, she wished she believed what she’d said. But she’d lusted after Travis for too many years. And that one collegiate kiss had confirmed that brotherly wasn’t really the way she felt about him. But it was the way she had to feel. He was her best bud. And since he’d never see her in any other way—not while sober, at any rate—

“I don’t know. I dated Ethan that summer after high school—before he took off for Annapolis.” Amy’s husky sigh left Tess wondering just how far those dates had gone, and whether she was the only Bartlett with lust in her heart.

“Did you and Ethan ever do it?”

“Tess!” Amy’s flawless skin darkened with a rosy blush.

Tess pointed an accusatory finger, but she was laughing. “Tell me.”

Her sister tucked her thick, honey blond hair behind her ears and bought some time before she answered. “Even back then, Ethan was all about being a Marine. As sweet and smart as he was, he was saving himself for the Corps. I don’t think he would have jumped my bones even if I had USS Amy tattooed on my boobs.”

Tess narrowed her gaze. She wasn’t getting the whole story. “But you blushed. You’re holding back.”

Amy arched a golden eyebrow in that mystery-woman expression that men found so irresistible. Tess had tried to duplicate the same maneuver for years, but could only manage to arch both brows at once and come off looking more like Larry, Curly and Moe than any femme fatale. “We never went all the way. Let’s just say, he scouted out the ship.”

“You rat. So…how was he? Is Ethan a good kisser?” Maybe it was a family trait.

Amy’s wistful smile gave the answer before she spoke. “J.C.’s a lucky bride. And not just because he’s such a stand-up guy.”

“So, are you okay with Ethan marrying someone else? Do you wish things had been different?”

“You mean do I wish I’d married Ethan instead of Barry?” Her resolute sigh spoke volumes. “It wasn’t in the cards for Ethan and me. The chemistry just wasn’t there—not like it is with J.C. Even at eighteen, we were smart enough to know we made better friends than we’d make lovers. On the other hand, I had chemistry up the wazoo with Barry. Sex was always great with him. Of course, apparently, it was also great with all the other women in his life.” She hugged her arms around her own waist as she shared a painful nugget of hard-won wisdom. “I needed Barry to be a better friend.”

Tess had already suspected as much. “So you’re saying that you can’t mix the two—that a man can’t be a great friend and a great lover?”

“It’s been impossible for me.”

Maybe Tess held her sister’s gaze a moment too long and gave something away. By the time she’d turned back to the window to spy on Travis, Amy was wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“That was my experience, kiddo. I’m sure it’s different for other men and women.”

Not for her. Tess had more male friends than she could count. She hadn’t had a lover since…oh, crap…had it really been three summers ago? A forgettable one-night stand with a visiting soldier she’d met in a bar during the Bay Festival. Yikes. How trite.

At that time, she’d been thinking way too much about Travis’s kiss and wondering why no other man’s passion had ever equalled that one, perfect, stupid night. Maybe over the years, she’d idealized what had almost happened between them. So instead of wallowing in what-if’s and why-not’s, she’d thrown caution to the wind and jumped into bed with the eager soldier. Ugh. So much for life on the wild side. She hadn’t seen any action since.

Big sis gave Tess a stern shake. “Hey. The right man is out there for you—one who can flip your switch and you still trust him in the morning.” She peeked out the window. “Who knows? Maybe he’s right under your nose.”

Tess scoffed. “Travis?”

“Why not?” Amy shrugged. “Since I’m currently off men at the moment, and Ethan went and found his own woman, that means it’s up to you and Travis to finally bring the Bartletts and McCormicks together.”

“Yeah, right. You just said men and women can’t be friends and lovers.” Tess managed to smile. “Hal hired me to be Travis’s physical therapist while he’s at home. I’m not his dating service. I’m sure once the ladies of Ashton hear that the ‘Action Man’ is back in town, they’ll be lining up with chicken soup and skimpy negligees, ready to fulfill his every need.”

Amy reprimanded her little sister with stern brown eyes. “Hey. Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll bet Travis or Morty or a dozen other men in this town would love to see you in a skimpy negligee.”

“Two problems with that scenario,” Tess insisted. “One, I don’t own anything skimpy, and two—”

But she never got to the joke about how she knew more about making chicken soup than seducing a man.

Instead, she pulled the curtain aside and held her breath as Travis unfolded himself from the backseat of his father’s car—with Ethan’s help. She frowned as the green camouflage uniform stiffly straightened itself to take the shape and form of the man whom she’d always cared so deeply about.

Travis was a leaner, harder version of his more muscular brother. The athleticism that had fine-tuned his body for battle was still evident, but his balance was off. Travis hauled himself up by the car frame, plopped a cloth cap over his short, burnished hair. Then he held on to Ethan’s arm while he retrieved something from the backseat.

A cane.

“Poor Travis,” Amy whispered in sympathy. “I had no idea.”

Tess’s hand fisted around the edge of the curtain, betraying the concern and compassion that gripped her chest just as tightly.

Once he was free of the car door, Travis shook Ethan off and proceeded up the driveway to the front door under his own power. But Tess’s sharp eye for physical weaknesses and pain could tell that, despite the unwavering set of his shoulders, Travis was relying heavily on that cane. His left leg was stiff—probably from the long drive from the Quantico military base near Washington, D.C. And she suspected that if he didn’t have the hardheaded determination of the Corps drilled into him, he’d be limping.

That perfect body had taken a few more hits than she’d been led to believe.

He wasn’t even smiling.

Whether playing a joke, flirting with a woman, or striking out a batter, Travis McCormick almost always smiled.

Splaying her fingers against the glass at her window, cool from the air-conditioning, Tess reached out to her friend. Ashton’s hometown hero had come home, all right. But he hadn’t made it in one piece.

“Trav,” she whispered, her warm breath close enough to fog the glass.

Travis paused on the front sidewalk, almost as if he’d heard her soft plea.

By the time he turned and looked up, Tess had swiped the pane clear and ducked away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. Somehow, it seemed wrong to be spying on her childhood friend and longtime hero when he wasn’t feeling up to snuff. He’d always been so strong. So sure of himself. So perfect.

Tess retreated another step, pulling Amy with her toward the center of the room. “Did you come up here for a reason?”

She had to change to subject, focus her mind on something else, before she ran downstairs and across the yard to see Travis face to face. To hug him, touch him, ensure with her own two hands that his body hadn’t been damaged beyond repair—and that the scars and weakened leg didn’t mean that his fighting spirit and wicked charm had been wounded as well.

“Mom wanted your opinion on the cake she’s baking for tonight. She said you’d know Travis’s tastes better than either of us. Does he like chocolate? White?”

“Lemon.” Travis had always had a taste for food with a little attitude. Just like his women. “He’d want a lemon cake.”

At least the old Travis would. Now she was beginning to wonder how much of the old Travis still existed—and wonder how she could help heal this newer, harder, humbler version of the man who had always been her best friend.

“I’ll tell her.” If Amy had any inkling of the turmoil spinning inside Tess’s head, the only sign was the teasing tug on her younger sister’s ponytail. “Come on down when you’re done unpacking. We could use your help before the party. Mom’s fixing enough food to feed the entire town.”

Tess nodded. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

By the time Amy left and Tess dared to return to the window, Travis had gone inside the house with his brother.

She’d been patient for twelve long months, ever since she’d first gotten the news that he’d nearly died in that accident.

He was hurt. He was her responsibility as his therapist. He was her friend.

Screw waiting until tonight.

Tess tucked her T-shirt into her denim shorts and dashed down the stairs.

“Tessa, I need…Where is that girl going?”

“Give her a few minutes, Mom.”

Her mother’s and sister’s voices were cut off by the noise of the screen door slamming behind her. Tess jogged across the lawn separating the two houses, and tucked a few stray waves into her ponytail as she slowed to a walk to climb the steps to the McCormicks’ front porch. She knocked, then fixed a grin on her face as Hal McCormick answered the door.

The older gentleman’s welcoming smile reminded her of her late father, who had died the same year Hal had lost his wife to cancer.

“Hey, Hal.”

“Tess Bartlett. Come here.” He scooped her up in a bear hug and set her down inside the tiled foyer of his home. “Is it girls’ week at the Bartletts’ again? I swear, Tess, you look prettier every time I see you.”

She waved aside the compliment. “And you’re more full of the blarney every time I see you. Did you have a good trip?”

He shrugged. “As good as could be expected. You and your family are coming tonight, right?”

“We’ll be here.” She let her gaze scan up the stairs to the second floor where Travis’s old bedroom was located. Surely, with his injured leg, they’d prepared a room downstairs for him. But she didn’t see anyone else moving about. “I know I’m early. And I promise I won’t stay long. But I saw the car and wanted to welcome Travis home. I’ll give him a hug, then get out of your hair so you guys can rest up.”

“He went to the guest room, and I don’t—”

A king-size belch, starting deep and covering a variety of pitches, dramatic in its longevity and loud enough to tickle her funny bone, erupted from the back of the house. An instant later, Travis materialized in the archway leading to the kitchen, holding a can of soda.

Tess grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Nice one.”

Clear blue eyes swallowed up her seeking gaze from across the room. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Travis Harold McCormick. There’s a lady in the house.”

She’d never envied Travis and Ethan for getting the double whammy of a superior officer’s tone and a father’s voice rolled into one. But the McCormick boys didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s cool, Dad. It’s just Tess.” He downed the last of the soda and reached around the archway frame to set the can on a counter. “Hey, T-bone.”

Tess shook her head at the goofy nickname, but her eyes never wavered as she studied him from head to toe. The killer smile was still there, bemused and sexy, even if it looked a little ragged around the edges. But there were other subtle changes. There was a gauntness to his chiseled features that hadn’t been there before, a tension, a maturity. And a wash of pale beneath his golden tan indicated that the deepening web of lines beside his eyes had more to do with stress and fatigue than with time spent outdoors.

“Keep it short, son. The doctor said you need to get off that leg as soon as possible.” He held up a stern, paternal finger. “And mind your manners.”

“I’ll make sure he follows orders, General.” Tess smiled with reassurance.

Hal gave her a wink, then excused himself from the foyer.

“Good to see you.” Travis had tossed his hat onto the living room couch beside his cane, and with a nonchalant defiance, he closed the distance between them. The stiff set of his jaw told her what it was costing him to hide his limp without the aid of his cane.

Tess hurried to meet him halfway.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Her words caught in a strangled whisper as she fought the sudden tears burning in her throat. “Welcome home, Captain.”

She reached up to touch the tight lines of strain beside his mouth. She brushed her fingertips across the pale pink scars that lined the left side of his square jaw and dotted his neck. She caught his chin and turned it from side-to-side, inspecting every mark.

The eyes were as blue as she remembered, the nose the same sharp blade. The amusement on those firm, flat lips was genuine. “You just gonna stare?” he teased, spreading wide his welcoming arms. “Or am I gonna get some action?”

Exhaling a cry of relief, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his smooth, angular cheek. Then she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Riding the deep breath that filled his chest, Tess held on as Travis wrapped his arms behind her waist and lifted her off the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her nose in his collar. He smelled of soap and hospital and the starch in his uniform. Intoxicating. Worrisome. Strange yet familiar.

“Couldn’t get a good enough look through your window?”

His teasing voice rumbled against her ear, and Tess was suddenly aware of how tightly they held each other. How distinctly non-platonic this felt. Her nipples beaded where her small breasts pillowed against the hard plane of his chest. Her cotton T-shirt and his canvas uniform couldn’t mask the heat seeping from his skin into hers.

Or maybe she was the one whose body temperature had suddenly soared. “You saw me?”

He laughed out loud as she squirmed away, sliding down his body and creating a friction that sparked every nerve with an embarrassing hyperawareness.

Travis reached out and cupped her blushing cheek. “I saw the curtain move. I remembered all the times we sent messages back and forth between our upstairs bedroom windows and put two and two together. Nice to know you’re still lookin’ out for me.”

“I’m going to be doing more than that, Trav.” She retreated another step to gain some much-needed distance. “I’m in charge of your therapy while you’re here.”

The smile vanished. “Therapy? I’m on forced R and R.”

“Your physical rehabilitation. Starting Monday.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, wondering at the rapid cooldown in Travis’s mood. “I’m a licensed therapist, remember? I work with sports injuries, accident victims, stroke patients, wounded veterans.” She shifted back and forth on her feet. Travis was damn near glowering now. “You dad told you, didn’t he? I’ve read the reports from your doctors and have outlined a recovery plan that should have you back to Quantico in four to six weeks’ time. All we have to do is set up a schedule that’s convenient for you.”

A glimpse of the tough, six-foot, two-inch, Special Ops Marine surfaced as he leaned in. Leaned over her. All traces of the familiar camaraderie he’d greeted her with were gone.

“You’ll be waiting by your phone a long, long time. I’m here for two weeks, tops,” he insisted. “And if I wasn’t concerned about the strain on Dad’s heart from worrying about me, it’d be less than that.”

Tess stood there and gaped, absorbing his anger, wondering at its cause. She curled her hands into fists at her side, unsure whether she wanted to slap him or hug him at his outburst, but knowing neither touch would help right now. “Look, Captain, I was only trying to help give you what you need.”

“I know what I need—and it’s not being stuck down here in Podunkville for six weeks while the Corps forgets about me. So unless you’ve got some miracle up your sleeve that can get me back on the front lines with my unit, there isn’t going to be any rehabilitation.”




2


TESS BARTLETT had tits.

Theoretically, Travis had always known they were there. But he’d never really noticed. Not the way a guy noticed an attractive woman. His body hadn’t cared before.

But there they were, small but scrumptious things, sitting high and proud, on the opposite side of his father’s living room where Tess chatted with her mother, Margaret, and one of the matriarchs of the community, Nixa Newhaven. He was damn sure Miss Newhaven hadn’t noticed the beaded tips outlined beneath the cling of Tess’s lavender T-shirt. No doubt they were jutting out in protest of the air-conditioning that ran constantly in the summer heat as partygoers streamed in and out of the house.

But Travis noticed.

His body had been misfiring with overheated aftershocks of physical awareness ever since that hug this afternoon. He’d felt them then, pressed against him like…well, not like Tess.

Hell, yeah, he’d been glad to see her. The two of them had hugged before. Countless times. But this afternoon it was…well, not like Tess.

He’d been pleased at first to see her. Finally, someone with whom he could drop the brave face and relax. He’d been on his best behavior at Quantico, not wanting to give his superiors any more reason to drum him out of the Corps. His father and brother were far too worried about his recovery, adding guilt onto the layers of frustration that already plagued him.

Maybe Hal could be content with retirement, spending half his time on his fishing boat, or camping in one of the ocean-view parks. But Travis had been bred and built for action and adventure. A dozen steel pins in his left leg weren’t going to stop him from getting back to the job he loved so much.

Though they’d done a damn good job of it so far.

That was the truth that scared him the most. His injuries might be the one enemy he couldn’t defeat. Captain Travis McCormick, leader of a Special Ops unit that was the Marine Corp’s equivalent of a Navy SEALs team, wasn’t used to feeling fear. He wasn’t used to feeling like a member of the losing team.

That’s probably what had made him so testy this afternoon. So quick to jump down Tess’s throat when she mentioned physical therapy. Man, he needed to apologize for being such an ass. Instead of trading hello’s and falling into their comfortable routine, he’d dumped on her. No wonder she’d found a way to stay on her side of the living room all evening long.

But he couldn’t afford four to six weeks of R and R at home, squeezing a rubber ball between his knees and lifting weights. He had to get back to his unit. They’d already assigned a new commander, but there was a chance he could still rejoin the team. They’d be stateside within the month, home to regroup, retrain and refit the team for a new assignment. He had to be there to join them. He had to prove he still had what it took to get the job done. Or else he’d be stuck serving out the remainder of his military career pushing papers—or worse, he’d be drummed out on an honorable discharge because he just couldn’t cut it as a Marine anymore.

Yeah, that’s all this crazy notion about Tess was. That was T-bone standing over there, making nice with her mom’s friends—not some sexy woman he was itchin’ to get his hands on. With his future in limbo, he just wasn’t feeling right in his own skin, so his perception of things was way off.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture her in her softball uniform, complete with sweat-stained visor and clunky cleats. He remembered the first day he’d met her, a gawky fourteen year-old, ankle deep in mud with her wavy brown hair flying in all directions, crabbing in the slough at the end of the street.

Travis opened his eyes and glanced across the room.

Nope. They were still there. And she had a mighty fine pair of ’em from where he was standing.

Correction. From where he was sitting on the sofa, being waited on hand and foot like some damn invalid. It seemed as if most of Ashton’s nontourist population had filed through his father’s front door to shake his hand or kiss his cheek and wish him well as they welcomed him home. Every woman over the age of eighteen, it seemed, had brought some kind of food to tempt him with. Every man, it seemed, had some sort of anecdote to tell about his own service experience. Travis had a beer, an iced tea and a frosty lemonade all within his reach, and enough plates of food to feed his entire platoon. He could quote stories from Omaha Beach to Grenada to Iraq.

But neither the tiring hoopla nor his worries about his military career could completely distract him from his recent discovery.

Damn. Travis shifted uncomfortably in his seat and reached for the beer beside him. He drank two long, cold swallows and forced his attention back to Morty Camden, who didn’t have a war story to share, but who had an apparent fascination with statistics and the numbers of troops from nearby bases at Norfolk, Newport News and Camp Pendleton he expected to flood the town for the Summer Bay Festival.

Travis dutifully listened to the amount of money that would pour into the town coffers next week. But if Tess Bartlett didn’t stop propping her hand on her hip and standing in a way that made those little marvels jut out like temptation itself, then certain parts of his anatomy were about to prove, despite the opinion of a dozen doctors and half that many months of rehabilitative therapy, that he was no invalid.

He took another drink.

She was the girl next door. The tomboy who’d saved the world right by his side in their imaginary neighborhood games as kids. The good buddy who’d gotten him through Physics and Calculus, and introduced him to the three best dates of his high-school and college years.

Tess Bartlett was one of the guys. Somebody he could drink a beer with and rag on the Redskins to. She’d sent those newsy letters when he’d been stationed overseas and held his hand when he’d finally gotten home to visit his mother’s grave.

Tess Bartlett was every bit the buddy that his dad, his brother, and a handful of Marines he’d served with were.

So when the hell had she sprouted boobs?

Morty adjusted his plastic-framed glasses on his nose, reminding Travis that his attention had wandered again. “We hope that you’ll be able to help us with one of the booths or competitions next week.” Morty dropped a glance to where Travis’s black boot was propped up on the coffee table. “If you’re up to it, that is.”

Travis tugged at the leg of his camo pants and rested the beer bottle between his thighs. Oh yeah, he was gettin’ up to something, all right. And my, my, wasn’t that an uncomfortable realization to make.

He should go over there and apologize to Tess, then hook up with one of the willing young ladies who’d come to the open house, and get this unhealthy fascination with Tess Bartlett out of his system.

“We’ll see.” He had nothing against Morty. Like Tess, they’d been classmates back in high school, even if his jock-centered path had rarely crossed with the nearsighted valedictorian’s. Still, he didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.”

“Well, at least we hope you stick around long enough to come down and have some fun.” Morty stuck out his hand and Travis automatically shook it.

Surprised at the solid strength of Morty’s grip, Travis shook hands a second time. Either Tess wasn’t the only Ashton resident who’d gone through a few changes since he’d been gone, or he needed a mental evaluation to go along with the physical he’d flunked last week. “Thanks, man. Appreciate the invitation.”

Morty nodded and pushed to his feet. “No problem. I know you’ve got lots of folks you want to spend some time with so I’ll head on out. Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

Using Morty’s departure as a chance to effect his own escape, Travis braced his hand against the back of the couch. He lowered his foot to the floor and pushed himself to a standing position. A pathway cleared instantly, and the roomful of guests turned in his direction.

He’d have laughed at all the unwanted attention if he wasn’t so busy gritting his teeth while his left leg adjusted to holding his weight, and the sharp shaft of pain eased to a dull ache.

“No show here, folks.” He waved aside his father, brother, and a couple other offers of help. Standing at near attention, he fixed a trademark smile on his lips, reassuring everyone enough to return to their conversations. He made an excuse to be dismissed. “I’m just off to the latrine. I think I can manage that on my own.”

Fresh air was the ticket. Night. Solitude.

But if locking himself inside the john was the only way to get some time to himself so he could get his head on straight, then that was exactly what he planned to do.

His careful stride took him past Tess, allowing him to eavesdrop on the plea coming from Nixa Newhaven’s pruney lips. “It would only be for four hours on Monday evening.”

Four hours sacrificed for Miss Newhaven and her dowager cronies? What a downer.

A kindred spirit of being forced into something unpleasant made Travis stop there and exchange a few words with his father regarding his sister, Caitlin, her husband, Sean, and how they were going to make Hal a grandpa in the next two weeks. He already knew the facts and was delighted he was about to become an uncle, but at the moment, Travis was only listening to the short list of prospective baby names because it gave him an excuse to linger close enough to hear Tess’s response.

“I was hoping to check out the festival myself Monday night. Before things get too crazy.” Her tone, while polite enough, lacked the conviction to talk Miss Newhaven out of anything. “Besides, I’m working three other nights at the concession stand already.”

Nixa tutted between her teeth. “Do you have an escort to go with you?”

“You mean a date? Well, no, not yet. I thought Amy and I—”

“You girls can’t go out by yourself.” Nixa’s silver hair bent closer to Tess’s golden brown ponytail to whisper, “There’ll be sailors in town.”

Oh, the shock of it all! Travis twisted his lips to hide his grin. There’d be Marines and soldiers and civilians, too. And he’d bet good money that if any one of them was a little too forward with Tess, she could handle herself just fine.

Of course, she might be wanting one of them to be a little forward. Maybe a lot forward. Travis’s grin slipped. He hadn’t been home to Ashton for a year. Maybe he didn’t know Tess as well as he thought he did anymore. Was she seeing someone now? Dating around? Just because he’d never thought of her in that way before didn’t mean some other guy hadn’t noticed what a sweet package she’d morphed into.

Was she looking to meet someone? Get married? Have a fling? A one-night stand? And why the hell should her love life—in whatever form it might exist—get him all curious and itchy inside his skin like this? It wasn’t any of his business. She was a grown woman—She could sleep with anyone she damn well liked. As long as the man respected her. Made it good for her.

Hell. Why was it turning him inside out to think about Tess and sex in the same sentence?

No. Tess and sex with some man Travis didn’t know. Some jerk who wasn’t good enough for her.

“Miss Newhaven,” Travis heard Tess pipe up, “I have a right to a social life.”

“Of course, you do, dear.” Nixa Newhaven was patting Tess’s hand now. “But you’ve always been so good about helping out when you’re needed. I don’t know who else to ask.”

A breath of cool-headed logic seeped in to calm the unsettling stab of emotion. Tess had said she was working three nights next week. Nixa Newhaven seemed to think she was available to work a few nights more. And the older woman had asked whether Tess had a date.

Tess was unattached. Safe. He’d gotten himself all worked up over nothing.

Travis shouldn’t be breathing any easier, but he was.

He relaxed and savored his next swallow as Tess tried again. “Miss Newhaven—”

“I don’t claim to understand all these modern mores that you young people follow. But I really could use your help. Doris Mead simply can’t tolerate the heat the way she used to and I said I’d find a replacement to work her shift at the concession stand. Since you don’t have any specific plans…”

Since there was no date currently in the picture, Travis should do the gallant thing and give Tess the excuse she needed to get out of the assignment by asking her out himself. Yeah. He could just step up, offer Nixa a bit of a flirty smile to knock her off her garters, then chime in with something like, “Sorry, she can’t be bored to tears for four hours. Tess and I have plans—sharing a couple of carnival rides, strolling through the historic shops of Ashton’s Main Street, sipping margaritas on the dock, and then maybe taking a sailboat out onto the water to do a little canoodling under the moonlight.”

Sure, he could do that. An unexpected rightness seemed to lift his mood. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time he’d offered his services to a damsel in distress. He turned to join their conversation. Nixa tipped her chin, waiting expectantly when he smiled down at her. It sounded like a perfect evening. It sounded…

Wrong with Tess.

He swung his startled gaze over to lock onto Tess’s green-gold eyes, tilted up with curiosity. “Trav?”

Travis rubbed his knuckles along the newly healed skin at his jaw, frowning at the bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t be thinking about canoodling with Tess. Or kissing or hugging—or stripping off that lavender T-shirt and whatever sensible thing she wore underneath to get a firsthand look at those perky, provocative breasts in all their naked glory.

“I’m sorry,” he finally ground out between clenched teeth. He turned away from plain, practical Tess and mustered a smile for Nixa. “I figured you’d be turning in early, and just wanted to say goodnight in case I missed you later.”

“That’s so considerate of you. Isn’t it, Tess?”

“Yes.”

Before he could hear what else either of them had to say, before the intuitive concern shining in Tess’s eyes figured out his crazily inappropriate urges, Travis walked away.

No. He limped.

He wasn’t in a position to rescue anybody—even from something as harmless as Nixa Newhaven’s pushy assumptions.

He had to get out of there. And fast.



TRAVIS HAD ROLLED up the sleeves of his camo shirt and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He stood in the shadows beneath the log pier and watched the moon rise high into the midnight sky.

The gray-green water of Chesapeake Bay lapped against the Virginia shoreline, throwing up an occasional spray to cool the steamy July night. Tomorrow, he’d get to dress in his civvies. Shorts or jeans, and a beat-up top that would be thin enough and cool enough to deal with the summer heat.

But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

The Corps actually expected him to shed his uniform for four to six weeks. Forced R and R to get his body back in shape and his head in the right place. Even two weeks was too long to suit him. It felt like quitting. Like throwing in the towel when he knew there was still some fight left in him.

But what if he didn’t have it in him anymore—the skills, the edge, the drive—the able body and clear-headed mindset to be a captain in Special Ops? If that were the case, he’d have been better off if that explosion had killed him.

“Hell.” He shook his head and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, focusing his attention on the gentle rocking of the boats anchored beneath the pier. He didn’t need to go to that dark place again. Men and women in uniform died every day, not because they wanted to, but because they understood their duty. They fought to survive, to carry out their assignments, driven by the faith put in them by their country and the Corps.

He needed to fight just as hard to carry out his duty.

Because if he couldn’t fight his way back to his field service assignment with the Corps, he didn’t have a clue about what he would do.

His hometown thought he was some kind of hero. What a joke. He couldn’t even help an old buddy get out of a boring night working the fair next week. The Action Man might not be fit for action anymore. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that? It scared him senseless.

But Travis’s senses weren’t so far gone that he couldn’t hear the soft squish of footsteps approaching across the golden sand beach. That he didn’t recognize the intruder who’d found his childhood hiding place, even before she spoke.

“Hey, stranger.” Tess’s familiar voice feathered across his eardrums like a soothing breeze in the night. “Skipping out on your own party?”

“I’m not much of a partier.”

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder as she stood barefoot beside him. “Since when?”

Since blowing my body to kingdom come and being sentenced to half a life because I can’t function as a man or a Marine should any longer.

He stared sightlessly out into the water. This was as comfortable as he’d been since leaving the hospital at Quantico with his dad and Ethan. This hiding place reminded him of simpler times. Or maybe it was Tess’s rock steady presence that had finally taken the edge off his mood.

Travis shrugged. “Since I got tired. Seems I get that way a lot lately.”

“It’s not surprising. You almost died. You’ve been through several major surgeries. Months of rehabilitation. Your body’s still in the process of healing. You have a right to be tired.”

“It’s no excuse.” He turned to face her. He captured a caramel-colored tendril that blew across her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “It’s no excuse for jumpin’ down your throat the way I did this afternoon.”

Her smile glinted in the moonlight like a fond memory. “You have many fine qualities, Travis. But patience has never been one of them. Your body needs time. Your spirit, too, from the sound of things.”

He nodded and pulled his hand away before sensations of silky hair and warm skin imprinted themselves on his fingertips. “I know Dad’s worried about me. Hell, half of Ashton’s worried. But I don’t know if I can do the vacation thing here. It feels like I’m hiding out, like I’m running from the fight.”

“Do you want to hire someone else to do your PT?”

“No. I don’t want to admit that I still need four more weeks of physical therapy, period.” A bit of the now-familiar frustration licked through his veins again. “My men are in a war zone right now. Hell. They’re not even my men anymore. I need to be there. I need to do my job. I’m letting them down.”

“Because you nearly lost your leg? Your life? I know you McCormicks live and breathe the military, but do you really have to be a superhero every waking moment?”

“You wouldn’t understand, T-bone. There’s never been something you wanted so bad for so long that that wanting becomes a part of you.”

With a sound that was almost a snicker, she turned away, leaving the shadows of the pier’s giant support pylons and heading along the beach, back toward their homes a half-mile away. Her dismissive sigh was a sobering reminder that he really knew how to spoil a mood these days. After grabbing his boots and socks, he followed her down near the water and watched her pick up a small stone. She drew back her right arm, waited for the right moment, and skipped the stone across the waves. Four, five, six hits. Nice.

“Hey, I see you’ve still got your throwing arm. Did you ever figure out how to hit a curve ball?”

Tess laughed and he felt a little less like the jerk he’d been earlier, a little more like the friend he’d been forever. She scooped up her sandals in her fingers and fell into step beside him. “I don’t play much hard-core softball anymore. The hospital has a team, but it’s pretty much for fun and not all that competitive. Not like what we played back in school.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Travis!” She swatted his arm and dashed ahead to pick up a relatively straight piece of driftwood, about three-feet long. She dropped her shoes, turned and lifted the skinny log up onto her shoulder like a baseball bat. “Okay, hotshot,” she dared him, “let’s see if you still have a curve ball before you start criticizing my game.”

He laughed. This was what he needed. Something normal. Something familiar. Something that didn’t depend on the state of his leg or his questionable ability to play the hero. “You want me to throw you a curve ball?”

The bat danced against her shoulder. “If you think you’ve still got it in you. Find a rock.”

He followed the nod of her head and picked up a palm-size rock. The little lady wanted to play, huh? Travis dropped his boots, spit on the rock and rubbed it smooth between his hands. “I led the baseball team to a state championship my junior year,” he reminded her.

“And I led the softball team my senior year.” She pointed the bat in his direction, tapped the sand, then put it back on her shoulder. “So far, you’re just a bunch of talk, McCormick. Let’s see some action.”

It didn’t take long to get into the spirit of a midnight game of stickball on the deserted beach. With his stronger right leg to brace himself, Travis reared back, went through the dramatic motion of an overhead pitch, then stopped his momentum to toss it underhand. Tess swung and missed, and the rock plopped into the sand behind her.

“What, are you afraid I’m going to actually hit the thing?” She tossed the rock back to him. “Now put it over the plate.”

Travis pitched. Tess swung. The smack of rock against wood startled them both into laughter. She jammed the rock into the sand just a few feet in front of her.

Travis snatched up the rock and moved in behind Tess. “You call that a swing?”

“You call that a pitch?” she countered.

“Like this, T-bone.” Travis grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. He tucked his chin against her temple and adjusted the bat over her shoulder. With one hand covering both of hers on the bat, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and turned her so that she was lined up with the imaginary plate. He tossed the rock into the air and swung the bat with her, making solid contact with the rock and driving it deep into Chesapeake Bay. He moved the makeshift bat back up into place and repositioned her, repeating the movement a second time. “You have to swing under it like this so you can drive the ball up instead of down into the ground.”

The sharp catch of Tess’s breathy sigh reached him over the rustle of waves on the beach. She went still in his arms, except for the curly tendrils of golden brown hair that blew against his cheek.

Travis froze. But he didn’t move his hand from the nip of her waist or move his face from the salty fresh dampness that clung to her hair. He didn’t want to move. Unless he moved closer.

Oh, man. He was in worse shape than he’d thought. This was not normal. If he was in this position with any other woman, he’d be nuzzling her neck right now. He’d be tossing the bat and pulling her down into the sand. He’d slide his hands beneath her shirt and unzip her shorts.

But Travis stood there, holding his breath.

This was Tess! A year off his game couldn’t have short-circuited every instinct in him, could it? Hot, needy urges careened through his body, but his brain couldn’t make any sense of them. This was so completely not the feeling he usually got hanging out with her. Yet the evidence was right there, nestled against his crotch and stirring things that were better left alone.

Tess Bartlett had a rockin’ ass to go along with those tits.

And he wanted them. He wanted her.

Bad.




3


“I’M AFRAID I’m gonna have to cancel our trip out to Longbow Island this week,” Hal McCormick’s chest-deep sigh revealed the depth of his disappointment.

Travis paused outside the kitchen, leaning on his cane as he eavesdropped on his father’s telephone conversation. Cancel? His father loved fishing.

“That’s not it,” Hal continued. “From what I hear, the striped bass are biting in the rock piles along the shore. We could catch our limit and have plenty to throw back…. Nope, that’s not the problem either. There’s a line of storms due in mid-week, but everything looks great right now.”

Was he hearing things right? Only the threat of severe weather kept his father on dry land these days. As a family, they’d always loved outdoor sports, but since the death of Travis’s mother nearly a decade ago, spending time on the water—preferably with a fishing rod in his hand—had become a way of life for his father.

After developing a heart condition, forced retirement from his position as a brigadier general in the USMC’s Quartermaster Corps had left widower Hal McCormick with two obsessions. One was his three children, and the other his fishing boat, which seemed to grow larger and newer with each passing year.

Travis tilted his head to spy out the sliding glass doors that faced the presently tranquil waters of Chesapeake Bay. Not a cloud in sight this afternoon. What was his dad up to? Frowning, Travis leaned back toward the archway to the kitchen. He had a bad feeling about this.

“There’s nothing wrong with the trawler, either,” Hal continued. “I would have loved you and the missus to come visit us but, well, it’s Travis. Personally, I’m just grateful he’s alive after that explosion. But he’s having a hard time with his recovery. It’s mental as much as physical if you ask me. You know how hard it is to keep a Marine down when his buddies are in the line of fire. You and I were the same way. A couple decades ago, at any rate.” Hal laughed as guilty bile pooled in the pit of Travis’s stomach. “Trav won’t even consider retirement from Special Ops. If he’s not careful, he’ll permanently cripple himself doing too much too soon. I need to be here to keep an eye on him.”

Well, didn’t that make him feel like he was about five years old again? Apparently, Travis wasn’t the only McCormick whose life had been altered by the accident.

“Ethan and J.C. helped me get him home, but Ethan has to report back to Quantico to prep for his class on Monday.” Travis had thought getting big brother out of the way would mellow out the elevated level of concern around here. Instead, it sounded as if his father was dialing his stress up another notch. “No, Caitlin and her husband couldn’t make it,” Hal went on. “She’s so close to term on her pregnancy, Walter, that I can’t ask her to leave Alexandria to take care of her brother. Maybe if she wasn’t in her ninth month.”

Travis shook his head, cursing silently. He was thirty-three. A grown man. A Marine captain. Not a child. And certainly not a wash-out who needed his daddy or anyone else to babysit him.

He could add guilt to the layers of frustration already weighing him down. Yeah, he had issues. But they were his problems to deal with, not his family’s. His life might have been put on hold for a year. but they weren’t going to suffer the same fate—not on his account.

Travis silently leaned the cane against the wall outside the kitchen. If the Velcro on the brace binding his left leg from thigh to ankle wouldn’t have made such a noise, he would have removed it as well to make the illusion complete. As it was, he tugged the frayed edge of his cut-off denim shorts over the top of the brace, fixed a grin on his face to counter the ache in his bones, and strolled into the kitchen to raid the leftovers from last night’s party.

“What, am I dying?” Travis teased, unwrapping a tray of cookies on the counter and studying them as though choosing between chocolate chip or ginger snap was the biggest challenge he had to face that day. “You aren’t seriously giving up a fishing trip for me, are you?”

Hal covered the receiver with his palm. “You’ve come home for a reason, son. I’m not about to abandon my duty. Walter understands.”

The sweet, spicy cookie he munched on suddenly tasted like sawdust.

Walter. As in General Walter Craddock. One of his father’s military cronies. Travis’s older brother, Ethan, had once reported to Craddock at the DOD—Department of Defense—at the Pentagon. He was one of the chiefs overseeing personnel assignments. An officer whose recommendation—or lack thereof—could make or break Travis’s chances of returning to Special Ops.

Not a man he wanted to appear weak in front of.

Travis swallowed the lump of sawdust and gestured for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”

“It’s General Craddock.”

Travis took heed of both the concern and the warning in his father’s blue eyes. “I’ll make sure I salute.”

“Uh-huh.” Reluctantly, Hal turned his attention back to the phone. “Walter, my son would like to have a few words with you. Go easy on him.”

Go easy? Hell. Why not just tell the general he was a panty-waist who couldn’t cut it in the Corps anymore?

But Travis buried his knee-jerk reaction behind a charming, chilled-out facade. He perched on a barstool at the end of the kitchen counter, taking the weight off his leg so he could concentrate on saying all the right things to reassure both his father and Walter Craddock. “General. Travis McCormick here.”

“Captain. I’m sorry to hear about your relapse. Do they have the proper medical facilities there in Ashton? If there’s anything Millie or I can do to help, let us know.” A touch of something that just might be construed as pity colored the general’s voice.

Convincing the doctors, the Corps, his friends and family that he wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture was going to be an uphill battle all the way. He might as well draw a line in the dirt right now and start the good fight. Forming a vague plan in his head, Travis watched his father cross the room to check the cookie tray for himself. “The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, sir. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good to hear. The Corps relies on men like you.”

He hoped so. “Actually, General, I need to ask you a favor. From one Marine to another.”

“Name it. What can I do for you?”

“You can keep your plans with Dad.” Travis let a grin filter into the timbre of his voice. “If you and Mrs. Craddock don’t drive down from D.C. tomorrow and give him a chance to try out his new Mainship Trawler, we’re going to have a national crisis on our hands. Chesapeake Bay could be overrun with striped bass.”

“Travis Harold McCormick…”

Craddock’s laugh drowned out his dad’s reprimand. “Hal’s cramping your style?”

Travis didn’t want to make light of his father’s concerns; he just didn’t want the stress-free retirement his father had earned to be another casualty of Travis’s lengthy recovery. “I know he was looking forward to your visit. And trust me, if I can survive four weeks in a Central American jungle with nothing but MRE’s and a sidearm, then I can manage a couple of days in a well-stocked beach house with satellite TV and a remote control.”

“It’s that bad, eh?”

“Save me, sir.”

Craddock laughed over a rustle of papers at his desk. “Millie and I were looking forward to getting out of the city for a few days.”

“There’s no need for you and Mrs. Craddock to alter your itinerary on my account.”

“I was going to ask your father about bringing along a family friend as well.”

“The more the merrier,” Travis insisted.

“Unfortunately, that could be a problem. I can’t guarantee how merry she’ll be.”

“She?”

“Eileen Ward. She’s my secretary here at the DOD. A civilian.”

Was the general playing match-maker to his dad? From the corner of his eye, Travis watched his father studiously debate between the chocolate chips and ginger snaps, then ultimately choose one of each. Was that the old man’s idea of conflict and excitement these days?

Though he was a little gray on top, and definitely set in his ways, Hal McCormick was still in pretty decent fighting shape. He had pills he took regularly for his heart, but his outdoorsy hobbies and regimented diet—okay, so he still had a weakness for sweets—kept him trim. According to a few articles Travis had read, a sixty-year-old man in his father’s relatively sound health and secure financial position made a pretty good catch. Still, he’d remained steadfastly unattached since being widowed. He didn’t date, didn’t flirt. He just…fished.

Travis frowned as Hal gazed out the window above the sink and chewed. Was his father content with his early retirement? Was he bored? Lonely? Looking for action? Did Hal McCormick even remember what action was?

Eeuw.

Travis cringed, remembering his own body’s wildly inappropriate reaction to Tess Bartlett yesterday afternoon and last night on the beach. His skin prickled with an instantaneous, self-conscious awareness as he recalled vivid details from the erotic dreams that had haunted him through the night.

His and Tess’s second-floor bedrooms faced each other. Only, instead of replaying their silly childhood hand signals that they’d once used to communicate with each other after lights-out, he’d pictured her trim, athletic body standing buck naked in her window. Definitely all grown up. And the gestures she’d sent across the moonlit night between them had all been provocative invitations. In his dreams, she’d touched herself, pleasured herself, served herself up on a silver platter for him to watch and want. And then they’d been on the beach together. In the water. In his bed. He’d been inside her mouth. Inside her body. He’d tasted her from stem to stern. She’d tasted him. He’d been the Action Man in his prime, and she’d been his match in every sexy, seductive way possible.

In his dreams.

Travis had awakened, tangled in his covers, feeling hot and achy and unsatisfied. And mortally concerned that he’d been fantasizing about his best friend in such a raw, uncensored fashion. Apparently, a year of recuperation had taken its toll on his sanity as well as his body. He’d certainly found that out at the beach last night. The only thing that had stopped him from taking her for a roll in the sand had been her reluctant but necessary suggestion that they should get back to the party.

Friend or no, did his father have fantasies about a woman the way Travis had about Tess? Did Hal ever crave that kind of action?

Did Travis really want to be thinking about father and action in the same sentence?

“Damn.”

“McCormick?”

Focus.

Travis shifted on the barstool, uncomfortably aware that his life was completely out of whack. He hadn’t done a very good job of taking care of himself this past year. He didn’t intend to jeopardize his future friendship with Tess by listening to his lusty hormones.

But in the here and now, he could pull it together and help his dad. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hal McCormick had put his whole life on hold for the sake of his children—the same way he wanted to put this fishing trip on hold.

Pulling his shoulders back to attention, Travis concentrated on a brand new strategy. Time to redirect the opposition. He raised the volume of his voice so Hal could hear every word. “Tell me more about this Eileen who’s coming with you.”

“Eileen?” Hal stopped mid-chew and frowned. “Who’s Eileen? What happened to Millie?”

Good. His father’s attention had just shifted to a new topic. Travis patted the air with a placating hand, silently telling him not to worry, yet secretly glad he was distracted.

General Craddock gave the low-down. “Eileen’s been with me for years. Works her butt off. She’s not much for socializing, but her ex is getting re-married this weekend, and Millie thinks Eileen needs to get out and meet some people instead of moping at home.”

Hmm. Depressed hermit. Obsessed with work. Been with the general for years. Eileen sounded like a real stick in the mud. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about that bothersome picture of his sixty-year-old father getting some action. “Does she enjoy being on the water?” Travis asked.

Unable to stop his curiosity, Hal brushed the crumbs from his hands over the sink, then crossed close enough to whisper, “This woman’s coming here with Walter?”

Travis hushed his voice as well. “It’s his secretary, Dad. Millie and Eileen are both coming.”

“I have no idea what her hobbies are, besides the plants she always has on her desk. She doesn’t talk about her personal life much.” Craddock’s tone altered with a mix of apology and admiration. “I don’t know if you remember my wife, but Millie can be quite formidable once she sets her mind to a thing.”

It was Travis’s turn to laugh. He’d heard that Millie Craddock had played a small but key role in getting his brother, Ethan, and his wife, J.C., together.

“I remember her.” Mrs. Craddock’s determination might prove his best ally when it came to easing his guilt. Whether this Eileen proved date-worthy or not, Travis would see to it that his father didn’t sacrifice one more thing on his account. “It doesn’t sound wise to disappoint the missus, sir. You come on down to Ashton and bring your guest. Dad will appreciate the company.” Now for the lie. He raised his voice a notch. “I’ve got plans myself, anyway. Dad’ll be here by himself if you don’t come.”

Hal rested a warning hand on Travis’s shoulder. “What plans?”

Travis winked to reassure his dad, but spoke to the general. He was making this up as he went along. He may have a bum leg, but his bullshit skills were completely intact. “I have a class reunion thing going on, meeting with some high school friends.” Why not go all the way? “I promised I’d help them with the Bay Festival this week. I don’t know why Dad wants to hang around the house—I’ll be gone most of the time, anyway.”

Hal’s grip tightened. “When did you make these plans? The doctor said you needed rest.”

“Rest and recreation, Dad. This is the recreation part. Besides, I’ll be hangin’ with Tess. I can’t get any safer than that, can I?” Travis offered a brief explanation to the general. “One of my classmates just happens to be my physical therapist. She’ll keep an eye on me.”

“You’re sure?”

Positive. “What time shall I tell Dad to expect you?”

Though Hal knew his younger son well enough not to be completely swayed by his reassurances, he seemed to reclaim some of his excitement when he got back on the phone to make final arrangements with General Craddock. “I guess we’re still on then, Walter. If Trav has Tess to watch over him, he’ll be all right. She’s a good kid. Who’s this Eileen person? Does she know her way around a boat?”

Travis excused himself and headed for the front door, pulling his cell phone from the waistband of his cut-offs. He took a short-cut across the yard as he punched in a familiar number. He had to get ahold of Tess. He needed to shove aside the lust still sparking through his system and ask his old buddy for a favor.

Schedule me a PT time. Get me out of the house and keep me occupied long enough so that Dad will quit hovering and go back to living his own life. Travis needed an alibi so that the story he’d just told his father and the general wouldn’t make a complete liar out of him.

He was dragging his sorry leg up the back steps to the Bartlett’s patio door before anyone answered. “Hello?”

“T-bone.”

“Trav?”

Searching through the sliding glass door, he spotted her in the kitchen and breathed a momentary sigh of relief. But then his pulse hammered into overdrive as he shamelessly watched her through the window. She wasn’t naked; she wasn’t pleasuring herself the way she had in his dreams. But suddenly he was drop-dead stupid with want for her. He edged closer to the window.

Tess wore a Washington Nationals baseball jersey with Frank Robinson’s number on it. Classic choice. But just like last night on the beach, he couldn’t concentrate on baseball. Either that jersey was way too long, or her shorts were way too short—because he was looking at nothing but smooth, tanned skin on that long stretch of thighs. Capped off by the swells of her sweet backside when she bent over to pull a tin of muffins from the oven, the only thing he could think of was bending her over the counter and getting a little sugar for himself.

Tess frowned as she straightened and tossed off the oven mitt. She pulled the phone from where she’d wedged it between her ear and shoulder. “Travis? Are you there?”

He saw a glob of batter dotting her cheek when she craned her neck to look through the west windows toward his house. That glob should have reminded him of the food fight they’d had in junior high school and how going to the office together as comrades-in-arms had been one of their first bonding experiences. Instead, he wanted to lick off that batter and find out if the skin beneath tasted just as sweet.

“Travis?”

“Forgive me for anything I’ve ever done to you.” Including lusting after you like a Marine who’s just seen his first female in twelve months.

“What are you talking about?”

Travis curled his fingers into his palm and tapped on the glass to get her attention. When she turned, her familiar smile of recognition and welcome warmed him down to his toes like a comfortable hug, and some of that unexpected obsession shouting through his veins quieted. Yeah, T-bone would help him out.

But as she hung up the phone and approached, images of other recent hugs surfaced. The tight knots of those perky breasts smushed against his chest. The streamlined curve of her bottom snugged against his groin. Nerve endings and cell membranes and even bigger body parts leaped to attention at the thought of her stopping on her side of the window and stripping down to make his erotic dreams come true.

Son of a bitch. Travis slapped his phone shut against his temple, ending the call and knocking some sense into his head. Where were these impulses coming from? Why now? Why Tess?

He stepped back onto the patio as she opened the door—without undoing a single button. “What’s going on?”

“I want your ass.”

Shit. Had that just come out of his mouth?

Tess’s green-gold eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Smooth one, McCormick.

Travis swallowed hard, silently dressed down his libido and articulated his request as though he’d never uttered any indication of his crazy new attraction to her. “I need you to save my ass.”



CAPTAIN KYLE BLACK knocked on the door frame marking Walter Craddock’s office and ushered himself inside as the general hung up the phone.

He carried in the report Craddock hadn’t asked for until next week and set it on his desk. Seventeen hundred hours was generally quitting time, but it was never too late in the day to make an impression on his commanding officer. “Taking off for the weekend, sir?”

Craddock nodded as he leaned back in his chair. “Actually, I’m heading out of town with Millie for a few days. Eileen’s coming with us, too. I’ve decided the only way to get that woman to take a vacation is to order her to.”

“She’s not military, sir.”

“Well, I won’t hold it against her.” Kyle grinned at the general’s dry humor. “We’ll be back in the office Tuesday morning.”

“I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone, sir,” Kyle reassured him. He’d gotten assigned to the general’s office six months earlier. If Kyle’s career plan stayed on track, he’d make major and be running his own staff within the year. Moving up the chain of command was as much about making nice with the man who headed up the Corps’s promotions committee as it was doing an impeccable job. So he asked, “Where you headed?”

“Ashton, Virginia.” The general rose, tucking his khaki shirt into his green gabardine slacks.

Damn, Kyle thought. That’s where the traitor lived.

Anticipating the general’s every need, Kyle retrieved his gold-trimmed, flat-topped hat from the stand beside the door. “Down on Chesapeake Bay?”

“You’re familiar with the place?”

Judging by the general’s questioning squint, Kyle must have revealed something in his own expression. Handing over the hat, Kyle held the smile on his face as if the mention of Ashton, Virginia, hadn’t just twisted like a hot knife in his back.

“I’ve been there before.” Twice, to be precise. The first time had been with his buddies during their first leave from Officers Training School at Camp LeJeune. He’d learned who his real friends were then. And who his real competition was.

Travis McCormick had walked around as if he were in a spotlight 24/7. The others in their unit had looked to the Action Man, not Kyle, for leadership, even though he’d earned just as many ribbons and points of distinction. Because he’d been flashier, drawn more attention to himself, McCormick had received the first promotion, drawn the coveted assignment to Special Ops—gotten the girl.

But because he was all about precise planning and perseverence, Kyle had returned to Ashton a second time. With a purpose. On a very personal mission.

He’d been shot down in flames. Made a fool of. Because of Travis McCormick. Again. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to make that right.

But instead of venting any history, Kyle scratched his fingers across the back of his coal black crew cut and feigned nothing more than a passing knowledge of the place. “It’s one of those quaint little towns on the southern coast, right off the Atlantic. They have a big fair and celebration there every summer, don’t they? Is that where you’re headed?”

Craddock tucked his hat beneath his arm and headed toward the door. “The Summer Bay Festival. Starts Monday. Frankly, I’m hoping to avoid all the hoopla. I’m going down to hang with an old buddy of mine, Hal McCormick. I hear the fish are biting.”

“McCormick?” The knife in Kyle’s back twisted down to the hilt.

Craddock paused and glanced over his shoulder. “You know the Brigadier?”

The brigadier. Right. Kyle resumed his veneer of indispensable efficiency and shrugged. “By reputation only, sir. I was aide to his son, Ethan, until his transfer to Quantico. Then I came to your office.”

“That’s right. Lieutenant Colonel McCormick’s recommendation is why I selected you for this assignment.”

At least one brother had done right by him. “I appreciate that, sir. Did you and General McCormick serve together?”

His superior’s craggy face eased into a smile. “For a lot of years. Hal owes me at least one trip on his boat.”

Travis McCormick owed Kyle a lot more than that. But Kyle had no intention of letting anything but friendly respect show in his face and posture. “Then I’ll say, ‘Bon voyage.’ You’d better hit the road unless you enjoy the rush hour traffic out of D.C.”

The general strode through the doorway. Kyle paced after him, turning toward his desk. But Craddock’s curse stopped him before he reached his chair. “Did Eileen leave already?”

“She was taking those files down to the JAG’s office on her way out.” Kyle reached for the phone on the corner of his desk. “You want me to page her?”

“No, if she just left, I’ll run her down.” The general hesitated at the door. “If my wife calls, tell her…hell, I was supposed to talk to Eileen before she left. Tell her—”

“—You’re heading straight home after you touch base with Mrs. Ward? I’ll call the JAG’s office to detain her, just in case.”

Craddock smiled. Point scored. “You’re a good man, Black. You got plans this weekend?”

Kyle nodded. He always had a date.

“Enjoy it.”

“Thank you, sir.” They traded salutes and the general left. As soon as he finished the call to the JAG office, Kyle was pulling up a duty assignment on his computer.

Kyle scanned the information on the screen, memorizing every detail. Captain Travis McCormick had been assigned a six-week medical leave, following six months in hospital and six months on light duty at Quantico. Six weeks? Medical? Someone was worried. If he knew McCormick, he’d be bustin’ his butt to turn that leave into four weeks, or even two.

“You’re not Superman anymore, are you?” he taunted the computer monitor in lieu of McCormick’s face.

Kyle had plans, all right. But the model he’d been seeing the past two weeks held little interest for him at the moment. He was too busy typing in the necessary info to request a temporary leave himself. Just a few days. The Summer Bay Festival and its draw of military personnel from up and down the East Coast would provide the perfect cover. Once General Craddock returned, Kyle would hit the road for Ashton himself. He could do a few scouting jaunts beforehand, learn McCormick’s routine, devise a plan.

To Kyle’s way of thinking, this wasn’t about striking a man while he was down. It was about locating the enemy’s vulnerability and using that weakness to his advantage to ensure victory.

It was about payback.




4


“A LITTLE HELP?” Tess grabbed Travis’s unshaven jaw and turned his appreciative gaze away from Robin, the brunette ward clerk who’d retrieved his signed consent form with a wink and an encouraging smile. With the door to the otherwise empty PT room closing on the distraction of Robin’s backside, Tess pointed to her own eyes. “Right here, McCormick. Concentrate.”

“Come on, T-bone. I haven’t had a chance to play for twelve months.” He offered up a “poor me” look as he leaned back against the weight machine’s padded seat. “Don’t begrudge a wounded man the chance to get out and see the sights. The hospital’s new PT wing really does have nice scenery.”

“So does the Grand Canyon. Which I’m tempted to shove you into if you don’t start taking this seriously.”

“I had a drill sergeant like you once.”

Tess ignored the teasing gibe. “Screwing around could get you hurt.”

“I think my mother gave me the same advice back in high school.”

“Travis,” she snapped. He could joke around about this all he wanted, but she’d seen his X-rays. She knew how far he’d come and how far he still had to go. It was a precarious balance of strengthening the right muscles while protecting weaker ligaments and knitted bones. Healing was dead serious business, and if he truly wanted to return to hazardous duty as a Marine in just a couple of weeks, then it was her responsibility to keep him from doing any more damage to himself on the homefront. “If we don’t do this right, there’s no sense doing it at all.”

“Yes, sir.” He snapped her a salute. “Doing it right, sir.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Securing Travis’s feet beneath the T-bar, she tested the resistance on the machine to make sure the pressure rested on his thighs and calves instead of his rebuilt knee and ankle. She braced her hand against the muscles beneath his nylon workout pants.

“I’m still in pretty good shape, right?” Though couched as a taunt, Tess knew him well enough to hear the underlying need for validation in his tone.

She adjusted the machine, then repositioned his leg and guided him to try the weight. “Robin seemed to think so.”

“Yeah, but she never saw the before picture.”

“Trust me. I knew you before the accident, and you are still…”

Hot got stuck in her throat when she lifted her face and met his gaze. She’d intended to give him a reassuring smile, but snapping shut her mouth, which had fallen open at the look on his face, was all she could manage at the moment. There was nothing teasing in the deep blue eyes that focused on her now. The veil of laughter had disappeared, revealing a raw need in the depths of those cobalt irises. They were as complex and unfamiliar as they’d been yesterday afternoon, ogling her with a hungry intensity that made her hair sweat.

If she’d been another woman, Tess might have interpreted the rare glimpses of serious emotion as some sort of intimate, passionate, man-woman connection.

But she was Tess Bartlett. Trusty sidekick. Go-to woman when a friend needed a favor.

He was Travis McCormick. The Action Man. A nickname that had as much to do with his reputation with the ladies as it did his heroics for his country.

All he’d ever wanted from her was a bud to listen to him, to back him up, to have fun with—someone to give him a boost behind the scenes so he could still face the world with a charming smile whenever things fell apart.

That’s what the searching glance, the glimpse of vulnerability, was all about. It was a silent plea to the friendly ally she’d always been. He needed someone to bolster his ego as he learned to cope with limitations he’d never had to face before.

Tess swallowed hard and looked away to focus her attention on the movement of his leg. She couldn’t keep it casual and supportive when she wanted that look to mean something else.

“You’re lookin’ pretty fine,” she assured him, saying what he needed to hear. It wasn’t a lie. Despite the ribs of scar tissue she felt through his pant leg, the shape and dimension of the muscles underneath were the same grade-A prime that had always set countless female hormones, including her own, into overdrive. Sure, his obvious pain—past and present—triggered her compassion. But there was no reason to feel sorry for this man.

His fingers brushed across the back of her knuckles. Nerves jumped. Muscles tightened. Her mouth went dry. “You’re sure ’bout that? You had to think about it.”

Did she imagine that low-pitched husk in his voice? Or had he always had that sexy rumble?

“I’m positive,” she croaked, then snatched her hand away and cleared her throat. “You are all that, and a bag of chips. And not that cheap store-brand stuff, either. You’re name brand, all the way.”

If her playful comeback sounded forced, Travis didn’t seem to notice. Of course, Tess didn’t really bother to check. She smoothed her damp palms on her khaki shorts and turned away to fiddle with the weights before the static charges zipping from his body to her brain completely short-circuited her ability to perform her professional duty. At least one of them needed to keep track of why they were here. Resolving to ignore both the intensity of those eyes and the seduction of that voice, she patted the top of his thigh. “Let’s try it again, nice and slow this time so I can gauge your range of motion.”

“Yes, sir.” Now that was the smart-ass tone she’d come to expect from him. Still, touching him made it hard to concentrate. His thigh tightened like a rock beneath her palm as he extended his legs. “I noticed Robin wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Is that a job thing? So she doesn’t catch a finger in one of these machines or scratch a patient?”

“Subtle, McCormick.”

Like the ebb and flow of the tide, the muscle thinned as he relaxed his thigh back into place. He repeated the motion. Flexed. Hard. Filling her hand. Relaxed. She caught her breath, waiting in subconscious anticipation for the hard muscle to swell into her palm again. “So, is she unattached?”

“Travis.” She swatted the provocative flesh and stepped back to prop her hands at her hips. She didn’t need this kind of interrogation to taunt her ego while he tempted her libido. “You’re the one who insisted we start physical therapy this weekend. You know, as impossible as it is for you to believe, I do have a life. I don’t normally give up my Saturday afternoons. Even for a friend.” She flipped her ponytail from inside the collar of her uniform polo shirt, begrudgingly admitting to herself that she didn’t really have that much of a life to back up her argument. Pathetic. “Robin’s not married. And she isn’t seeing anyone exclusively that I know of.”

“Interesting.”

Tess concentrated on her breathing, in and out, so she wouldn’t stand there holding her breath, waiting for Travis to ask her to set him up on a date with Robin. The clerk had certainly sent out signals that she would be interested in getting better acquainted with the captain.

Travis unhooked his feet from the T-bar and dropped them to the floor so he could turn and fiddle with the machinery behind him. “I can handle more weight, you know.”

Tess frowned at the back of his head. She was as perplexed by his abrupt change in subject as she was relieved. The Action Man she knew would never have passed on such an easy opportunity to hook up with an attractive woman.

But then, the flirtatious hero she once knew had been an unpredictable man since coming home from Quantico. This man got angry. This man hesitated. There was a chink in the confidence that had once exuded from every pore. A chink that revealed an edge to Travis she’d never seen before. When she’d sent him off to college, to basic training, to officer candidate school, to assignments across the country and across the world, he’d always been cocky but in control—a man who knew who he was, knew what he wanted, knew what he was capable of. He was a man who delivered each and every time—and took pride in that fact.

Had his brush with death really changed him? Or was this version of Travis merely the golden boy finally growing up and learning that he was human like everybody else?

If the former golden boy had been lust-worthy, this moodier, edgier Travis touched something deeper inside her. The old Travis had needed nothing. No one. This one needed…something.

And whether it was a friendly hug, a roll in the hay or a kick in the pants, she wanted to be the one to give it to him.

She wanted to be what he needed.

Burying her own pointless urges, Tess pulled his hand from the weights at the back of the machine. “We’re not pushing anything until I’m certain you won’t cause more damage to that knee.”

Travis stood, butting her shoulder as he moved past her. “The main reason I’m here is to keep Dad happy. He thinks I need a nursemaid.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/julie-miller/basic-training/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.