Mandy tipped her head back, taking in the one-level house in front of her. For some reason, she’d figured a guy who rode a hog and wore a leather jacket would live in a cramped, messy one-bedroom apartment. Instead, Marcus lived in a small, residential neighborhood, one of the housing developments that had begun cropping up all over the place in the last few years. The kind full of families.
Container of cookies clutched under one arm, she climbed the front porch steps and shoved the key into the door, anxiety twisting in her stomach. If she was going to keep her head in the game, she needed a target, hence her decision to surprise him with something sexy. Of course, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit she’d merely dreamed up a reason to see him. It wasn’t even the weekend.
She would most definitely not ponder how good it had felt to lie in his arms. Or how tender and generous he was in bed, making her wonder why she’d ever settled for one-night stands with clumsy, drunken lovers in the first place. Or even how confident he made her feel. Tonight’s outfit was not something she’d normally have picked out for herself. No, she’d have put on something that accentuated her breasts and disguised her bottom half.
And she was only wearing it for one reason: because she couldn’t wait to see Marcus’s face when he saw her in it.
So she was forcing herself to concentrate on the phenomenal sex. If she only had a month with him, then she was for darned sure getting her fill of him and his expert hands.
She pushed open the door. As she stepped inside, a small dog came running out from the back of the house, her tail wagging with excitement. As her gaze landed on Mandy, she skittered off into the living room and began to bark.
All thoughts of her sexy little plan went POOF!
“You must be Cammie.”
The small dog inched her way back into the foyer, barking the whole way.
Mandy released the doorknob and laughed softly. She squatted, setting the container on the floor at her feet, and stretched a hand in the dog’s direction. “I have to admit, you’re not at all what I expected. I expected you to be some huge Rottweiler or a Doberman. You couldn’t possibly weigh more than ten pounds.”
Cammie halted several feet from her and barked again, this one with enough force her tiny front feet left the ground. A tail that resembled a question mark continued to wag, and the dog crept forward, alternating between sniffing the air and barking some more. Mandy stretched further, attempting to stroke the dog’s head, but Cammie took off into the living room again.
“Come on, sweetie. I won’t bite.” Mandy wiggled her fingers. When Ferocious peeked around the tan leather sofa but refused to budge, Mandy rested her elbows on her knees. “At some point we’re going to have to make friends because, like it or not, I’m coming in.”
Bark!
Okay, so she really was adorable. She resembled the Chihuahua one of her clients had brought to a meeting once, with the small head, long legs, and big black eyes that seemed to bug out of her head. She had unusual markings though, brown fur with black stripes, no doubt the inspiration for her name.
Mandy popped the top of the container, which held dog biscuits she’d purchased at Lauren’s bakery, and held out the treat. “Do you like cookies?”
The barking immediately stopped and the little head cocked sideways, ears shooting straight up.
“Yeah, I thought you might. Bo insists these things are better than kibble.” She laughed softly and wiggled the treat. “You’ll have to come and get it, though.”
The dog stepped forward slowly and sniffed the air again. She stopped a few feet away, then reached out and took the cookie carefully, all the while watching Mandy with wary eyes. As the dog concentrated on gobbling up her treat, Mandy took the chance to make friends and stroked the little head. “Okay, so he’s right. You are the sweetest little thing.”
When the cookie was gone, Cammie promptly sat and pawed at Mandy’s hand.
“Now that we’re proper friends”—Mandy stroked Cammie’s head and the crooked little tail wagged—“how ’bout you show me around this place, huh? Then you can help me get ready. He’ll be home in about two hours, and I have a lot to do.”
* * *
Marcus set down the chopper’s kickstand and shut off the engine, but he couldn’t force himself to get off the bike. He stared at the crotch rocket parked a few feet beyond him in the driveway. Of course Mandy would choose a sport bike over a hog, and bright red to boot, to match her car and her carefree attitude.
Just the sight of that bike made his heart heavy. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the phone call he’d received two hours ago. Jason, the young soldier who’d just joined his veterans support group, had committed suicide this morning. His wife had found Marcus’s number in the young man’s phone. Marcus had given it to the guy his first night in group. All members exchanged numbers, so they’d have someone to call if they were having trouble coping.
And like every other time, talking to a family member whose world had just imploded had sent his mind on a spiral straight to hell. It had gone a little too much like the phone call he’d gotten from Gram after Ava’s suicide.
Now, the sight of Mandy’s bike in his driveway filled him with a yearning that made his gut ache. Guilt was eating him alive. What he desperately needed tonight was a distraction, and Mandy provided a lure he wasn’t sure he could resist. God knew she’d be the perfect thing to lose himself and his grief in, but it would feel like he was using her, because he’d be doing it for all the wrong reasons.
With a heavy sigh, he forced himself to get off the bike and go inside. When he pushed open the front door, Cammie came rushing out from the kitchen, her nails dancing over the hardwood floor as she pranced around him, begging for attention. When he didn’t pet her right away, she stretched her front paws up his right leg. Some part of his brain told him to at least bend down and greet her, but the sultry singing drifting from farther inside the house caught him. Mandy sung upbeat lyrics to a song he couldn’t hear. The mere sound of her voice was enough to send need winding through him all over again.
He dropped his gaze to Cammie instead and stroked the dog’s head. “Hey there, girl. Sounds like we have company.”
She wagged her tail.
“Come on. Let’s go say hello.” He followed Mandy’s voice into the kitchen and stopped in the entrance, caught by the sight of her. She stood at the sink at the far end with her back to him, washing dishes, her shapely ass swaying to the tune she now hummed.
In tight black leather pants that hugged every gorgeous curve and a matching jacket that showed off her midriff, she looked…edible. That and the containers lining the stove told him she’d gone through a lot of trouble for him tonight. And in about two seconds he was going to let her down and send her home.
Mandy shut off the water and reached for a towel on the counter. When her gaze landed on him, she jumped.
“You’re home.” She held her arms out from her sides and turned a slow circle, tossing a sultry smile over her shoulder. The heat in her eyes when she finally faced him again burned him up from the inside out. “What do you think?”
Oh, the outfit was sexy as hell. Any other day, he’d enjoy peeling her out of all that leather. Tonight, all he could think about was that poor kid and his wife, left to pick up the pieces.
He forced himself to turn away from her. “You should go. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m sorry you went through all the trouble, but I’m not fit for company tonight.”
He focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he made his way to the back of the house, Cammie on his heels. Upon reaching his bedroom, he stripped off his T-shirt, covered in a mixture of oil and gasoline, and hurled it in the direction of the hamper, seated along the far wall. It landed in a ball on the floor three feet from his target. If that didn’t just sum up his whole damn day.
“You okay?”
The sound of Mandy’s voice, soft with concern, slid along every aching nerve ending. A siren’s song, so hard to resist that if he looked at her, he’d give in to the pull.
Frustration owned him right now, though. If he gave in to her, he’d probably use her like a ten-dollar hooker. And she’d probably let him, but she deserved better. So much better. Shit. He was a selfish ass.
“Marcus, talk to me.” This time, her voice came as a quiet plea, calling to him as he popped the button of his jeans free.
Thoughts of Ava swirled in his head, combined with memories of his young friend, all of it whirling around him, pulling him off-balance. He closed his eyes and drew a breath to the count of three, then blew it out to the count of three. It was a trick he’d learned in therapy. When memories of the war threatened to suck him back, he was to take slow, deep breaths and focus on the room around him, ground himself in reality. It worked nearly every time.
This time, he couldn’t relax. Every muscle in his body tensed with the effort it took not to turn and wrap himself around Mandy, for the bliss he’d find in her arms. “It’s been a bad day, and I’m not myself tonight.”
He crossed to the dresser, yanked open the drawer with all the frustration winding through him, pulled out a clean T-shirt, and slammed the drawer shut again. Death was a part of life. On some plane of existence, he knew that, understood it, but he’d seen too damn much. Lost one too many people. At the end of their month, he’d lose Mandy, too. The thought had his heart in a knot in his chest, and if he let himself need her, that’s exactly what would happen.
No, what he needed to do was put some distance between them. Reset those damn boundaries.
A warm, soft hand touched his back, and Marcus flinched. “Let me help.”
He fisted his hands. “Mandy, in about two seconds I’m going to do something I know I’ll regret.”
He’d pin her to that wall beside her and fuck her until he couldn’t think anymore. Until the demons curling through his skull finally eased. It wouldn’t be slow or sweet, either.
Mandy slid her hands around his rib cage and up his chest, pressing her cheek into his back. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He dropped the clothing onto the bed, pulled her hands free, and turned, backing her against the wall beside the bedroom door. He set his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close, only just managing to resist the urge to seize her mouth and kiss her breathless. “New rules.”
Mandy blinked, stared wide-eyed for a moment, then straightened her shoulders. “Okay.”
“No surprising me at the shop. Consider this Vegas. What happens here”—he waved a finger between them—“stays here. I got all kinds of shit today for that little stunt you pulled this afternoon. I’m a private person, and the last thing I want or need is to wave this under your brother’s nose.”
Her lips parted, and Mandy nodded slowly. “Ahhh, so that’s what’s got you so hot under the collar. I surprised you at the shop and you haven’t told Trent we’re seeing each other. I’m—”
“We’re not seeing each other, Mandy. We’re sleeping together. There’s a huge difference.” He pivoted away from her and paced toward the bed. “The guys are asking questions, and I don’t know what the hell to tell them. I sure as hell don’t want to have to be the one to explain to your brother that I’m screwing his sister.”
Mandy remained silent behind him. For too damn long. He hated himself for saying that to her, but it was the truth. He was keeping a secret from one of his closest friends. The whole notion made him sick to his stomach. Would Trent still tease him if he knew their arrangement? That it was all about sex and he and Mandy weren’t supposed to see each other again once the month was over?
“You know,” Mandy said, a hard, determined edge to her voice, “I’m not sure what the hell happened between when I saw you this afternoon and now, but I’m not going anywhere. I can see something is wrong, so until you tell me what the hell is going on, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Marcus halted mid-stride, and just that fast, with a few harsh words from one of the most stubborn women he’d ever met, all the fight drained out of him. She had to go and say that. Remind him. Stand in front of him and refuse to let him run. When Trent had come home from his last tour she’d done the same thing for him. She’d taken care of him, despite being told more than once it wasn’t wanted, and had enlisted Lauren’s help. Now here she was, storming her way into Marcus’s own version of hell.
God, she had guts. How could he be angry at her for having courage when he didn’t?
He closed his eyes, his shoulders heavy as defeat crept over him. “How is it you’re even still here?”
“Is that what you were doing? Trying to get me to leave?”
He forced himself to face her. She deserved that much, and hell, at this point, he had nothing left. He was baring his belly, every raw nerve open and exposed and at her mercy. “Yes. I need you tonight. But it’s a completely selfish need. I got bad news this afternoon, and it’s got my head going to bad places. The only thing I could think about all the way here was you. Knowing you’d be here waiting. But I don’t have a right to ask that from you.”
“You’re too serious for your own good, you know that? I’m not going anywhere. You need me? I’m here.” She laid a hand against his chest. “What do you need?”
“A fifth of scotch? A punching bag? You? Hell. I don’t know.” He glanced down at himself. “I need a shower, though. Fuel system on the bike we’re working on sprang a leak.”
Mandy wrinkled her nose. “I can tell.”
He shook his head slowly, dejection weighing him down. “And yet you’re still here.”
“You forget. I do my own car repairs. I happen to like the smell of engine on a man. Just maybe not quite so much of it.” Mandy laughed softly and slipped her hand into his, tugging him behind her as she headed for the attached bathroom. “How ’bout we start with a bath? I did a little snooping while I waited for you to get home. You have a gorgeous tub that’s been calling my name.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, he and Mandy sat in the two-person tub in the master bathroom. She sat behind him, her supple thighs on either side of his hips. Her breasts pressed against his back as she leaned over his shoulder, slowly moving a soapy washcloth across his chest.
He dropped his head back against her shoulder. The tension that had caged his chest when he’d walked in the door had long since evaporated. His muscles were so relaxed his limbs were as limp as cooked noodles. Some part of him insisted it was childish to let her wash him, that he ought to be doing this for her, but he couldn’t resist if he tried. The simple warmth of her body against his back soothed the ache in his chest.
He slid his hand up her arm, her skin warm and slick beneath his fingers. “Thanks.”
She leaned her cheek against his, her voice low and soft. “For what?”
“This.” He captured her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “It’s nice.”
“You say that like you’ve never taken a bath with a woman before.”
The tease in her voice pulled a quiet chuckle out of him. “I haven’t.”
“Never had sex in a public place, haven’t taken a bath with a woman.” She tsked and set the washcloth moving again, this time toward his belly. “Where have you been, Marcus?”
“Living under a rock, apparently.”
She nipped at his jaw, her voice low, sexy, husky. “Well, we’re going to have to fix that.”
He turned his head and leaned back enough to see her face. “Is that so?”
He expected some sort of sassy comeback, but her hand paused beneath the water, and her expression sobered. She studied him for a long moment, then touched his cheek. “Tell me.”
He sighed and straightened, focused his gaze on the frosted window covering the wall opposite the tub. He couldn’t look in her eyes when he said the words. She’d strip him bare in two seconds flat. “Got a phone call this afternoon, not long after you left. One of the guys in my support group committed suicide this morning. His name was Jason. He was new to the group and just off a deployment. His wife called me. She found him in the upstairs bathroom. In the tub of all damn things.”
Mandy drew a sharp breath. “Oh my God. His poor wife. Did you know him well?”
“Just from group. He was army and much younger than me. Barely twenty-five.” He sat silent a moment, idly walking his fingers over the skin on her forearm. He owed it to her to tell her the truth, but he wasn’t sure he could get the words out. “There’s more.”
“I kind of figured there was.” Mandy rested her chin on his shoulder again, her voice lowering to a murmur. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Mmm. But you’ve been very patient with me.”
“That’s what friends do, right? We care for each other when needed and don’t ask questions.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?” He repeated the word, tasted the flavor of it on his tongue. Why did it sound all wrong coming from her? That had been his rule when they’d made this damn agreement in the first place. Now? He didn’t know if he could ever consider her only a friend. He wanted her too much.
She went silent, so still behind him even her breathing seemed to pause, and he could almost hear the things she wasn’t saying. He couldn’t be sure if he wanted her to voice them or not. He’d opened a can of worms, and some part of him insisted it shouldn’t bother him.
Finally, she picked up the washcloth again, rewashing his shoulders this time. “No. We’re lovers. But the idea is the same.”
He grunted. Something deep in his gut rebelled against the idea. She’d been his lover for what, two days? A week? Hell, at this point, he’d lost track. All he knew was that the word “friends” left a bitter taste on his tongue. Friends meant she’d go back to dating other men. Just the idea made him want to put his fist through something.
He shoved the thoughts away—the same way he always did—and forced himself to focus on what he could have with her. If he truly wanted a friend when this was over, he’d have to learn to talk to her. The problem was, spilling his guts didn’t come easy or natural.
He drew a deep breath and blew it out, releasing pent-up emotion along with it. “I suppose I owe you the truth. Why my friend’s death bothers me so much, I mean.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Her voice came warm and soft in his ear, lacking the judgment he’d expected.
He squeezed her fingers in a vain attempt to tell her what he couldn’t find the words to say. “It’s just…not easy to talk about.”
“Never was for Trent, either, but I’m here if you need someone to listen.”
He appreciated that. More than he could tell her.
He focused on the feel of her hand in his, on her body against his back, and let her presence soothe the wound itself. He needed that connection. Not to anyone. To her. There was something about her that calmed the storm raging through him. “If you took a tour of the house, then I assume you’ve seen the pictures?”
The washcloth paused on a stroke across his chest. “The girl? Yes. You have a lot of her. Who is she?”
“My sister, Ava.” God, just saying her name hurt. Four years had passed, but the wound was still fresh.
“She looks nothing like you.”
He gave a bitter laugh. Ava had been a dark blonde with bright blue eyes that always seemed to laugh at him. “No. She got her looks from Mom. I took after Dad. We were like night and day.”
Ava had always told him he was too serious, that he needed to lighten up a little. At least she had when she was in a manic phase. Ava had been like a bouncy ball in a small room, bright and fun and filled with energy. When the depression hit, though, it snuffed that light like someone had flipped a switch.
Mandy went still again behind him, only her breathing in his ear for a moment. “Something happened to her.”
“She died.” The memory of the phone call he’d received four years ago rose in his mind, and his chest tightened. “She committed suicide. Swallowed a bottle of prescription pills.”
“And your friend’s death reminds you of it.” Her arms released his shoulders only to wrap around his rib cage. Her legs tightened around his waist. “I’m so sorry. Who found her?”
For a moment, Marcus sat in stunned silence. She’d essentially wrapped her entire body around his back, and despite the warm water, it was her warmth that suffused him. Every breath he drew filled his lungs with the scent of soap and her, drawing him from the painful memories. He hadn’t a fucking clue how to tell her what that meant. So he set his arms over hers and held on tight.
“Gram. I was in Afghanistan. My last deployment. I’d been over there for six months when she called to tell me.” He’d never forget that conversation as long as he lived. Gram was one of the strongest women he knew, softhearted but formidable, but that day, she’d crumbled. “I should have been there for Ava. That was my job. To take care of her.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She tilted her head, her breath warm, voice low and soothing in his ear. “You go where you’re told to go.”
The guilt washed over him, tightening in his chest. “I volunteered. I’d been home for eighteen months, and I wanted to be back out there. There was a unit shipping out soon, and I needed a break. I loved Ava, but she was exhausting. She was bipolar, but she had a tendency to decide she didn’t need her meds anymore and would stop taking them. It was hard to get her to understand that she felt fine because of the medication. If she hit a depressive episode, she talked about suicide a lot, so she needed to be watched.”
Just like a child needing supervision. It was how he knew he’d never make anyone a good father. He’d lacked the patience Ava had needed.
Mandy hugged him. “Did she go off her meds while you were overseas?”
Guilt shuddered through him, catching in his suddenly full throat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, desperate to keep the wayward emotions at bay. When he was sure he could speak again without sounding like a goddamn blubbering idiot, he opened his eyes and drew a cleansing breath. “When I volunteered, she was taking her meds, seeing her therapist. Things were good. I should never have gone.”
As abruptly as she’d wrapped herself around him, Mandy released him. She braced her hands on the side of the tub and stood.
“Come on. We’re getting out of this tub.” She stepped out onto the floor mat and faced him. Buck naked and dripping, she held out a hand. When all he could do was watch the water drip off her nipples and slide down her belly, she wiggled her fingers. “Come on, sailor. Get your ass up.”
He couldn’t help his smile. God, he loved it when she was bossy. That impish glint in her eyes drew him out of the shit raging in his head.
He took her hand and let her pull him onto his feet. “Where’re we going, angel?”
Because right then, he’d follow her anywhere. She was the sun and he desperately needed her light.
She handed him a towel and smiled, eyes soft, skin glistening in the low light of the room. “My mother always insisted a full belly was the first step to solving anything. I brought dinner. I thought maybe we’d take it to Chism Park. We could take Cammie. She could get a nice walk. We could have a picnic by the water…”
Marcus shook his head as he took the towel from her and wrapped it around his hips. “I’m touched, but you really don’t have to go through the trouble. You being here is enough.”
“I know. It was supposed to be a surprise.” She cocked a brow, that sassy glint lighting in her eyes again as she picked up a second towel and wrapped it around herself. “I had plans to seduce you.”
He chuckled. She really had no idea. “Angel, all you have to do is show up.”
A smile bloomed in her face, tender, alluring. “Good to know, but I’d imagine you’re not much in the mood for that tonight.”
She was wrong on all fronts. His whole body buzzed with the need to drown in her. He’d love nothing more than to let her seduce him, but he wouldn’t use her that way. He wasn’t really in the mood to be in public, either, but she’d gone through the trouble and going out would serve as a much-needed distraction.
He smiled. “Sounds great.”