Tell it to the Marine by Heather Long

Author:Heather Long
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Published: 2012-05-28T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Despite his easy manner, James’ palpable tension filled the vehicle all the way to Plano. A professional demeanor, focused concern, and watchful wariness replaced his charming smile and flirty honesty. The desire quivering in her insides sobered in the Fillmore Pub’s empty parking lot under the harsh reality of red and blue strobes. He spoke to an officer and a second man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, presumably the man who’d called him at the club.

She glanced over the others, settling on the young man sitting on the curb. His wide shoulders were framed by a too tight T-shirt that did little to disguise the muscled physique beneath, jeans and scuffed tennis shoes. The close shave haircut coupled with the empty expression on his face and the way he stared sightlessly at the damaged car to his right told her that was who they had been called to help.

Her chest constricted at the loneliness shimmering in the air around him. Dropping her purse on the floorboard, she opened the passenger door and slipped out. The pavement tilted unevenly, littered with cement cracks and blacktop repairs, but she crossed the open space to the young man before she’d fully thought through the decision.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The night air was warm, cooler than the day, but still comfortable. She wrapped her shawl around her more for comfort than heat, holding it firm with the fold of her arms.

The man glanced up, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “No ma’am, but I don’t really think a dirty curb is going to be kind to your dress.”

She chuckled, teetering down carefully to sit and stretch her legs. “That’s why I use dry cleaners, they’re miracle workers.”

The young man continued to stare at her, his confusion giving way to an open bewilderment. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you?”

“Probably not, you’re way too young and male to be in my demographic.” She extended hand her right hand. “I’m Lauren.”

“Matt McCall, ma’am.” He took her hand so cautiously she forced herself to stay still lest any motion startle him. His knuckles were black, blue, and red. She’d seen freshly ground hamburger meat that was more attractive.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Matt. Are you from Texas?” She considered commenting on his knuckles, but he withdrew his hand far more quickly than he’d offered it and tucked it back down against his leg, out of sight. He wasn’t quite rocking back and forth, but the tension thickened in the stiff set of his spine and rigid lock of his jaw.

“No.” He gave a quick jerk of his head. “Indiana.”

“Really? I’ve only been to Indiana once.” Biting the inside of her lip, she thought back to what James said at the Sybarite Club. People want to be heard. They want someone to listen. And even the most inane piece of trivia can show someone they’ve been heard. Clasping her hands together, she shifted so her butt wasn’t quite perched on the jagged crack in the cement curb.

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