Six Hot Summer Nights

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing like what a marine does before breakfast?”

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

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

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

“Air force. Why?”

“And did you have brothers?”

“Two. Air force and navy, respectively.”

“So you were the only girl?”

“Yeah. The youngest of three.”

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

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

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

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

“Not in kindergarten, huh?”

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

“Ouch.”

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

“And you learned to never sit again.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You know, I have a whole bottle—”

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

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

“You were right,” he said abruptly.

She blinked. “About what?”

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

She gasped. “An IED like a bomb IED?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His unit continued on, doing what they’d been doing. Logic, intel, on-foot searching, the whole nine yards, but they weren’t getting anywhere. Jason could fix it all. He had the answer. It was just locked up tight in his brain, hanging there behind a big wall of nothing. He couldn’t even begin to express how frustrated and angry that made him.

Meanwhile Christy touched his chest. She put her fingers right on his sternum, and it was like getting touched by a branding iron. He felt every one of her fingertips. Not painfully hot, but just there. Like he would remember her fingers on his chest until the day he died.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked gently.

“There’s something important that I have to remember. That’s the one thing I do remember—telling my best friend that I knew where it was. See, our mission was to find something. And Danny said I’d just figured it out when it happened.”

“When you drove over the IED?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed and looked down at the floor wishing for the zillionth time that he could break through the damn wall in his brain. “I knew something. I knew where it was. I’m sure of it.”

“But you can’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“So you’re pissed.”

“Yeah.” She’d summed it up perfectly. He was angry about getting blown up. Angry that he couldn’t remember. Angry that it was right there, but he couldn’t grab hold of it. “My guys are still searching. They’re still risking their lives because I can’t think of where the damn thing is. And I’m … here.”

“Healing,” she said firmly. “You’re here healing. You have to do that before you can remember.”

He banged his head against the wall, then stopped when he saw her wince. “I know,” he said, forcing himself to keep his tone level. “I know, but I’m impatient.”

“There’s a shocker … not.”

He smiled at her wry tone. “The thing is,” he said slowly, without looking at her, “I’m messed up right now. I’m angry and frustrated and in therapy, which really is no fun at all.” He heard her chuckle at that but didn’t move. “And the minute I do remember, I’m out of here. I’m going to have to go back to my unit and help them. That’s my job.”

“Okay,” she said. “Why are you telling me this?”

He opened his eyes and went for brutal honesty. “Because I want to kiss you right now, but I can’t. First off, I’m not me. Not the normal me.”

“You’re changing. That’s not abnormal, it’s just different.”

“Different is still not the time to start things with a girl.”

She grimaced, but he didn’t let her comment.

“And besides,” he rushed on, “I’m leaving at any time. The second I remember, I’m gone. No warning, no nothing. I’ll just be gone.”

“I grew up on base. I know about here today and gone tomorrow.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. God, she was so pretty. Her eyes were huge, her skin soft, and her lips were right there. What he wouldn’t give to sink right into them. Into her.

“I’m not going to do that to you. Or to me. I don’t want to be thinking about you when I should be focused on my men. On whatever it is I need to remember—”

“I get it.” She’d interrupted him, her voice low, but she repeated it louder when he stopped talking. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I’ve learned that when a marine gets stubborn, there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.”

He frowned, startled by a sudden surge of jealousy. “You spend much time with marines?”

She laughed, the sound light, and it warmed him despite the fact that he was putting the brakes on their relationship. “Let’s just say that in some ways, there’s little difference between a stubborn marine, a stubborn air force officer and a stubborn six-year-old. You’re not going to listen to me. All I can hope is that you’ll catch a clue and come knocking on my door sometime soon.” Then her eyes met his. “No strings attached.”

His breath caught. She was offering him a fling. A no-strings-attached hot—

She kissed him. She had to go up on her toes to do it, but one second she was looking at him and the next her mouth was pressed up to his. And she was doing something with her tongue that shorted out his brain.

A split second later, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her tight. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he went straight in. He heard a soft sound, a womanly sound that was half delight, half surrender, and his blood fired hot. He pressed her against her door and owned her mouth like he was staking a claim.

It went on for much too long. Or not long enough. He adored the feel of her, soft in the right places and solid in the rest. She kissed like a dream, and he was finally skimming his hands underneath her shirt when a noise in the hallway alerted him.

It was nothing really. Some kids were playing outside. One of them laughed, loud and raucous. But he was a marine and trained to pay attention to outside noises. To realize that he was about to strip her naked in a public hallway. And to know that this was a bad idea even though every cell in his body was pushing him to take the two steps into her bedroom and do what they both wanted.

So he broke the kiss, dropped his forehead against hers and just breathed. Breathed in, breathed out. And waited for the lust to fade.

It took a really long time.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” she said, her breath curling about his neck and kicking his pulse into overdrive.

“It’s too fast,” he said. “I can’t think.”

She laughed, though the sound was forced. “I never thought I’d be the one trying to convince a guy to have a summer fling with me.”

His body tightened against her despite his intention to pull away. She gasped and his blood roared. But he was a man, damn it, not an animal. He was not a slave to his lusts, and he would not walk down a road that he knew was wrong. Despite her words of a summer fling, she would fall deep and hard. She was just that kind of girl. And, truthfully, he was that kind of guy.

“I don’t have summer flings,” he said. “I don’t have a girl in every port and I don’t seduce women just because it will feel so damn good.”

She touched his face, her fingers gentle and her question honest. “Why not?”

“Because when I go for a woman, I go for keeps. I proposed to my high school girlfriend and when I caught her with someone else I joined the navy. I’ve dated other women, but they weren’t right and I knew it.”

She let out a little moue of regret. “So you already know I’m not the right one.”

“I don’t know any damn thing!” he snapped, his frustration making his hands fist against the wall. “I only know that I can’t remember and that I have to and you’re a distraction.”

“Sometimes a distraction is a good thing. Ever think you’re trying too hard?”

“Every damn day. But I can’t not think about it either.” He forced himself to step away from her. It was hard, but he did it. “I’m messed up, Christy. Which means that this is not the time for me to do anything with a woman. It’s not fair to either of us.”

She nodded. The gesture was slow and filled with an embarrassed kind of pain. He’d rejected her and that had to sting. But he knew she understood. He wasn’t rejecting her, he was rejecting the situation. Romance was not a complication he could afford right now.

“Maybe after I remember … After I figure out—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t make it worse, Jason. You’re not ready for anything more. I get it.” She sighed. “And you’re probably right. I don’t know that I’m good at flings either.”

It bothered him that she was even thinking of a summer fling. It bothered him in a Neanderthal kind of possessive way, and he ruthlessly pushed that thought aside. Meanwhile, she opened her room door.

“I think I’m going to take a shower now. Maybe a bath too.”

He didn’t understand what that meant, but didn’t comment on it. “Good idea. I might do the same.” Though the idea that they would both be wet and naked some few feet away from each other was not going to help their situation.

“I still had a great time today, Jason.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she gave him a little wave and stepped into her room. He stood there watching the door close, feeling like a rejected suitor—and the irony of that wasn’t lost on him. Then he shoved his hands into his shorts and headed for his own shower: a cold one.

It worked for a while. He managed to not think about her for at least two or three seconds. He grabbed some dinner and ate it morosely, all the time wondering what she was eating and what she would think of the soggy fries or the bad O-Club decor. And when he wandered back to his room that evening, he looked at the stars and remembered how she had been so excited at seeing the dolphins.

And then he went to bed and dreamed about her.

5

CHRISTY WAS DREAMING. She knew she was dreaming because she felt no pain. She was walking through the base on her way to the swimming pool and her knees didn’t creak, there was no persistent ache in her hips, and even her spine felt like it was fresh and new.

She took a deep breath, loving the feel of such easy movement. And as she exhaled, she saw him: Jason. Adonis rising from the depths of the swimming pool, his body all sleek and golden. She saw his scars with new understanding now. She recognized the anger that haunted his expression and added a clipped edge to his gestures. She knew the source now, and her heart ached for him.

But this was a sunlit dream, and there was no time for pain here. So when a child ran past her chasing a Frisbee, she laughed at his antics. He tripped over something, but he scrambled to his feet and ran on. If she wanted too, she could run after him. She could run and play as she’d never been able to as a child. There was no pain here. Except, of course, Jason’s pain.

She turned away from the children. She was interested in more adult entertainment anyway. So she took Jason’s hand and together they walked. They ended up on the beach, the people and the background melting away as they can in dreams. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the man beside her.

“I understand your choice,” she said. “You were probably right to stop us before.”

“Christy,” he said, the word half worship, half desperate longing.

She touched her fingers to his lips. “This is a dream, Jason. And here, I can do what I wanted to before. Here, I can give you some little release because you won’t let me in real life.”

“I wanted to. I wanted you,” he said against her fingers.

“Shh,” she whispered as she pulled her hand back so she could kiss his mouth. “Let me do this. Because I really want to.”

She stroked her tongue across his lips. He opened for her and they played together like that for a bit. His arms wrapped around her and she gloried in his strength. But soon, she wanted more and so she broke from his arms.

“Don’t move,” she said. “Not even a little bit.”

He tilted his head, his brows arched in surprise.

“My dream. My rules.” Then she grinned at him. “Parade rest, soldier.”

“I’m a marine, Christy.”

“Oh, right. Parade rest, sailor.”

“Aye-aye,” he answered. Then he widened his stance and locked his hands behind his back. She stepped back a bit to admire him. His broad shoulders, his golden skin over washboard abs, and his wonderful erection. Clothing was strictly forbidden in her dream.

Now she could kiss him at her leisure, wherever and however she wanted to. His mouth, his chiseled chin, and his neck were first. But she quickly went lower, glorying in the ripples of his chest, the tight bud of his nipples, and the way his heart thundered beneath her lips.

He tasted like sunshine and strength to her. Like every stroke of her tongue brought forth sparks of bright light that tingled in her mouth. And when she swallowed, she brought his lightness into herself, letting it warm her body and electrify her blood.

The strength came from her, though. Because in this dream, her joints were normal and movement was easy. She could do as she willed with him, without fear of spending days in aching stillness on her bed. And better yet, as she used her most powerful body, she could bring this god of a man to quivering lust. She could make him weak with hunger until he collapsed at her feet.

At least that was her plan, and so she set about doing it with leisurely skill.

She kissed down his belly, nipped at the tattooed bird on his hip, and then inhaled deeply of his musk as she finally got to stroke his erection. She was on her knees now before him, but it was a ridiculously easy position to hold. One glance up at his face told her his breath was coming in ragged pants and his eyes were burning for her.

“Christy—” he began, but she shook her head.

“Not a word, not a move, Jason. Not until you collapse at my feet.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she said.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. And then as he exhaled, she felt his buttocks tighten and his body ready itself for her. Then just before she took him in her mouth, he said something that stopped her cold.

“You don’t have to do it clothed, do you? You can give me a peek, can’t you? Even if I can’t touch.”

She blinked, startled that he would ask such a thing in her dream. Her attention had been on what she was about to do, not on how she looked. But he’d made her think of it, and so she complied. Better yet, since this was a dream, she could perform acrobatic feats that would be impossible in real life.

“Very well,” she said. Then she rose up before him. She was dressed in her usual yellow sundress. Nothing fancy, but this one had a zipper in back. It was a simple matter to reach behind and slowly pull down the zipper. And then she let the dress drop off her shoulders to pool at her feet. Even in dreams, she wore a full support bra and panties. Though this set was made of black lace that stood out against her stark white skin.

“You have the most gorgeous body,” he breathed. “Great breasts, and your waist is perfect. And turn around. Please turn around. I’ve been staring at your ass for two days now and all you’ve worn are skirts or loose shorts. Let me see it for real.”

She straightened, surprised by his words. Had he really been looking at her butt? Really?

She stood before him, slowly stretching her arms above her head. She watched his eyes flow over her breasts and he licked his lips. Slowly she turned around, but twisted enough to see his face. Damn, his eyes definitely dropped to her bottom.

“Permission to touch?” he asked.

She grinned. It was thrilling to have a man look at something other than her oversize breasts. “Granted, sailor.”

His hands found her bottom immediately. And though he’d gotten to her fast, his caress was anything but. He stroked slowly over her hips before cupping her ass. Just to see how he’d react, she slowly bent over.

He groaned, and the sound seemed to travel straight from the depths of him, enough to make her arch.

“Christy,” he whispered, and she felt him step forward.

She leaped away because here she could do that without wincing. “Back into position, sailor!” she cried.

He froze, and the look on his face was comical. “But—”

“My dream. My rules.”

He frowned at her and returned to parade rest. But he seemed downright confused as he shook his head. “I must have a really twisted subconscious.”

She smiled and returned to facing him. “You mean my subconscious, sweetie.” She popped her bra and pulled it away. His eyes practically bugged out of his head. “And why wouldn’t I want to dominate a ripped marine?” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her thong and shimmied it down.

His penis twitched as she moved. She knew he was holding himself back, but his gaze all but burned her wherever it touched. And it did touch her everywhere.

“I take it back,” he said. “My subconscious knows exactly what I like.”

“Really?” she said as she teased him. “Does it like this?” She lifted her breasts, one in each hand. She began to knead them, pretending to get herself really hot. Except, of course, it wasn’t pretend. Especially as she widened her legs and began to stroke herself. She’d never done that in front of a man. Couldn’t even imagine doing it anywhere except for right here. Right in front of a man who could overpower her in a second, but chose—by her command—to keep himself absolutely still.