Distinguished Service

“Shoot,” he encouraged now.

“Okay. I’ve given you a brief rundown on how quickly Lazarus has grown in such a short time. And with that, comes growing pains. Most notably, we’re attracting some high-profile contracts I’m sometimes afraid we’re not prepared for yet. This one falls solidly into that category.” He paused. “There’s an ex-general, now a political radio pundit, coming into town the day after tomorrow for a three-day stay, including two public rallies. We’ve been hired to handle security for the public end of his schedule—transportation, et cetera—in cooperation with his personnel and local law enforcement. While I’m sure we can handle it, well, it would be stupid not to utilize our assets. And I see you as a definite asset in this case, what with your background and your connections.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, in a nutshell, I was wondering if you would consider sitting in as co-lead on this one?”

Mace sat back, carefully considering what Dari was saying … and not saying. His friend went on to share some additional details, such as the name of the dignitary. He was familiar with the guy. Hell, nearly everyone in the western hemisphere was familiar with him, if only because of his skill at gaining attention, usually by exhibiting offensive behavior.

“Okay, I get the military connections and the growing pains. But this job sounds pretty run-of-the-mill, tooling around with a political celebrity. What is it you’re not telling me?” Mace asked.

“There have been threats.”

“Threats.”

“Yes. Specific to his visit here.”

For the past few years, Mace’s military career focus had been counter-terrorism, so this was right up his alley. But …

“And …?” he led.

Dari chuckled and pointed a finger at him. “Never could get anything by you. Truth is, these threats are serious enough to concern his security personnel and serious enough to concern me.” He checked the cell phone he had on the table next to his wrist. “And … well, if I’m hoping that by pulling you in on this job, it’ll convince you to sign on with us when your tour’s over in six months … that’s between me and the wall.”

Mace considered him.

Dari grinned. “Did I mention that it won’t hurt business to have a Navy Cross recipient on board with us? No? Well, then there’s that.”

He grimaced at the reminder.

“By the way, Megan and I are looking forward to attending the ceremony Saturday.”

“You’re going?”

“Of course, I’m going. My ass is part of the reason you’re getting the sucker. What makes you think I wouldn’t be there?”

He took a deep breath.

“I plan to sit up front and center.”

“Refill, gentlemen?” a knockout blonde smiled at him suggestively as she held up a coffeepot.

Mace found himself looking for the pretty brunette even as he and Dari held up their cups. The waitress topped them off then hovered for a moment before finally moving away.

“You didn’t even look at her,” Dari said.

“Sure I did. She’s too young and too …”

“Eager?”

“That, too.”

They shared a laugh.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll do it. Where do you want me when?” He laughed and looked around the diner again.

There she was.

He found himself relaxing in to the booth as the waitress who’d garnered his attention came through the kitchen door looking even more attractive.

She brought their meals quickly despite the busyness of the place. They ate while Dari outlined the specifics of the assignment.

This beat the hell out of staring at the cracks in his motel room ceiling, feeling guilty about not spending more time at his parents’ any day.

And it made him forget about those shadow hands pressing against his neck for a much-needed while.

Mace’s gaze followed their waitress where she bussed the table next to theirs, even as another couple moved to occupy it. She was calmly efficient and attentive, smiling warmly despite the obvious crowdedness of the diner as she took their drink orders.

He couldn’t help noticing that there was a guy about his age seated at the counter who kept trying to get her attention for more than a second at a time … and that she did everything politely possible to avoid giving it to him.

She briefly glanced in his direction and their gazes met, inspiring something a little more than respect in his response to her.

He smiled and she returned it before she moved on to another table then went back into the kitchen.

Oh, he’d bet she was the type who’d be up for anything, any time. A challenge, a new experience, a new restaurant, it wouldn’t matter; she’d be in … and make it doubly worth it just by being there.

“Okay, I’d better get moving,” Dari said, edging from the booth. “Megan’s already at The Barracks.” He stood, pocketing his cell phone. “Thanks for agreeing to come in on this job for me, Mace. You have no idea how much of a relief it will be having you aboard.”

“You haven’t seen what I charge for babysitting a political big mouth yet.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be more than worth it.” He peeled off a couple bills to pay for his half of the meal. “Sure you won’t change your mind and join us for a drink?”

“I’d rather step directly into enemy fire.”

“I believe you would.” They shook hands and agreed to meet at Lazarus the following morning, then Dari left.

Mace sipped on his coffee and watched his friend through the front window of the diner, even as more customers approached.

He glanced around. The place was more than busy, it bordered on chaotic. At different times, he was aware of a woman swearing in the kitchen, a couple of tables complaining about the lateness of their meals and from what he could tell, there wasn’t a busboy to be found.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out to find Janine’s name highlighted again. He sat and watched the screen blink until her call finally rolled over to voice mail.

Why was she being so persistent?

He couldn’t even begin to guess. So he didn’t try.

He slid the cell back into his pocket without checking the message.

“Dessert?” the pretty waitress asked.

He looked up at her. Despite everything, she managed to treat him as if he was her only customer, where the other waitress practically shooed people from the tables the instant they took their last bite.

“Trudy’s chocolate marshmallow pie is the house specialty.”

He took her in, noticing how the world seemed to rush around her in a blur while she stood perfectly still.

Of course, that could be just him.

The vintage jukebox in the corner. Definitely the jukebox. He’d play a song—an old one—pull her into his arms … lean her against the machine and work his hand up her skirt to find out just how sweet those thighs and what lay between them were … watch her smile melt into a sexy sigh.

“Maybe later,” he said.

He didn’t detect any flicker of disappointment that he wasn’t leaving to free up the table for another diner.

“And only if you promise to have a piece with me. It’ll be my price for having leant a hand …”

THREE HOURS LATER, Geneva was even more impressed with Mace Harrison than when he had first slid from the booth, introduced himself, then asked for an apron and bussing tub.

What guy did that?

None that she knew of.

And certainly not a complete stranger. She’d verified he was new in town since none of the staff nor Trudy could remember seeing him in there before, much less knew him.

And certainly not a completely hot stranger who made her feel like a wanted woman instead of the host of other titles to which she’d grown accustomed lately.

Refusing his generous offer hadn’t even entered her mind. Truth was, they were busier than she could ever remember being and Trudy’s usually easily dismissed sounds of dismay had begun turning into very real ones.

Mace had been as good as gold, a natural as Mel had noted, his sheer size and impressive presence not interfering with his assisting without being asked, and doing at least two of the jobs for which they were short staffed, lightening the load for the rest of them.

Was he military? She guessed yes. And that normally would have counted as a strike against him in her personal notebook, considering her experience with members of the armed forces.

But what had happened tonight was anything but normal.

And what was happening to her fell solidly into the same category.

Finally, one by one, satisfied customers began to ease to a workable trickle, and then the staff began to leave, including Trudy herself, who begged off with a migraine. Thankfully, Dustin had given up trying to corner her an hour ago and left, as well. Only Mel remained. But seeing as closing time was in ten minutes, he had only one order to finish up and she knew he’d be leaving, too, as he always did to get home quickly to his wife and family.

Now, as Mace stood spraying dishes to go into the washer, she couldn’t help staring at his hands. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt while the full-body white apron covered the front from his chest down to his knees. If his feet hurt in his dress shoes, she couldn’t tell, even though he’d been on his feet all night.

Her own dogs were barking loudly and she wore the equivalent of gym shoes.

Geneva absently wrapped up the little that remained of the meat loaf and mashed potatoes, not realizing she was still staring at Mace until he asked, “Did I spill something?”

She met his gaze, reading the telltale grin there, then smiled herself. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Tiffany had left in a huff about the same time Dustin had, apparently disappointed that her obvious flirting wasn’t gaining her any more attention from the unhired help than Mel got.

Actually, Geneva was pretty sure she’d gotten less.

Interesting. Not many men were capable of refusing the pretty blonde’s charms at normal speed, much less when she amped them up. And she’d definitely set her sights on Mace.

A few minutes later, Mel removed his apron and grabbed his jacket. “Well, it’s that time again, kids.”

Geneva held up the paper bag she’d readied for him and he took it, giving her a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, doll. See you on the morrow.”

“Tell Alice hi.”

“Will do. ‘Night.”

“‘Night.”

And just like that it was only her and Mace.

Well, and three people at two tables in the other room.

He finished up the dishes while she closed the last of the garbage bags then washed her hands.

“How about that pie?” he asked.

“How about it? Take a seat at the counter. I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Deal.”

She watched as he did as suggested, trying hard not to stare at his tight rear end and failing.

All right, she could be forgiven this once, right? For being selfish? For being needy?

For being a woman?

She went about wrapping up and putting away a few other items. It had been a long day. Still, strangely she didn’t feel tired.

She peeked around the window that opened up into the dining area, catching Mace’s gaze.

“Be right there,” she said.

“Take your time.”

She ducked back away and caught her breath.

Okay, she could do this. All she had to do was serve him pie and coffee and tell him she was pregnant. That was sure to douse whatever spark had ignited between them but quick.

Only she was hoping it wouldn’t …

3

MACE CLEANED UP after the last of the customers, then fed change into the vintage jukebox that had remained pretty much silent all night, selecting a few ‘50s classics before sitting back down at the counter. He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed since Geneva had said she’d be right there. He’d noticed an employees’ locker room off the kitchen and guessed she’d taken advantage of it. He realized he was still wearing the borrowed apron and took it off, laying it on the stool next to him.

The past few hours had passed in a welcome flurry of activity. The best decision he’d made was to trade his night of motel sitting for lending a hand at the busy diner. He’d never done very well left with too much time on his hands. And even he could jog only so long before his muscles protested.

Bussing tables and doing dishes and occasionally filling coffee cups had given him something productive to do. And feeling like a part of a team hadn’t hurt.

If Geneva’s gratefully surprised and sinfully sexy smile every now and again had anything to do with his sense of satisfaction, he wasn’t copping to it.

“Sorry,” she said, finally coming out of the kitchen. “I just wanted to finish a few things up.”

He blinked. She still wore the same gray uniform and ruffled white apron, but she looked … different somehow. Refreshed. And hotter than hell.

She put down something in a bag and then moved to the pie case while he rounded the other side of the counter.

“Coffee?” he asked, holding up a pot.

“I’d love a cup of decaf.”

“One decaf coming up.”

He poured two cups and placed them on the counter while she took not one, but four different pie plates out of the display case. Each held at least two pieces. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a can of whipped cream, placing it next to them.

He sat down and she took the stool beside him.

He was abnormally taken with the can of whipped cream; the thought of licking a line of it off her skin from collarbone to toes, stopping for longer stays along the way that seemed particularly tempting.

He wondered what she’d say if he suggested it …

“I figured since you wouldn’t let Trudy pay you, you’re entitled to as much pie as you want.” She handed him a fork.

“Part of the deal was that you join me.”

She held up her own fork.

He chuckled, watching as she dug into what he guessed was the chocolate marshmallow one. Damn, but she had a sexy mouth. What made it even sexier still was that she didn’t appear the least bit aware of the effect she was having on him.

“So, tell me,” she said around a bite, “are you from around these parts, soldier?”

He chose the blueberry. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Dubious answer to a yes or no question.”

To his surprise, he found himself explaining his being a military brat and staying with his grandfather as a teen. Even more surprising was the casual way in which he did so. He wasn’t usually given to sharing information with anyone. But she made it easy, her face open, her interest unselfish.

There was something strangely … intimate about sitting, just the two of them, in an empty retro diner, ‘50s music playing on a jukebox, the street beyond the front windows quiet and dark.

Even as they talked, he watched her eat, something he found strangely erotic. He couldn’t remember enjoying watching a woman eat. Then again, he could barely recall a woman eating in his presence, unless she was a colleague or a friend.

But watching Geneva savor the blueberry pie didn’t qualify as either.

“Which branch?” she asked after he’d fallen silent for a moment, reflecting on what he’d said; reflecting on her.

“What?”

“Which branch did you choose?”

“Marines.”

“Same as your father?”

He paused. “No.”

Curious, he’d forgotten having chosen a different path than his parent.

Funny how things worked out.

“I can relate.” She got up. “I could go for a glass of milk. How about you?”

Surprisingly, the idea appealed to him. “Sure.”

She poured them two large glasses then sat down again.

“I take it that means you’re from around here in a manner of speaking, as well?” he asked.

She nodded, then licked a milk mustache from her upper lip. Mace felt his pants tighten at the innocent move.

“I followed … someone here five years ago. I’ve been looking for a way out ever since.”

“He still around?”

She smiled. “Who said it was a guy?”

“I did.”

Her smile widened. “No, he was history two months in.”

For reasons he couldn’t be sure of, he was glad that not only was the guy part of her past, but she didn’t seem to have a problem with leaving him there. “Where are you from originally?”

“Ohio. Toledo. Whipped cream?”

She shook the can and then held it above the pies.

Mace felt the urge to reposition the tip above her lips so he might kiss it from them.

“Sure,” he said instead.

“Tell me when …”

She began spraying …

And spraying …

Covering what remained in all of the pie pans.

“When?” she asked.

“Huh?”

She stopped spraying and laughed. The sound was deep and husky … and made him want to kiss her all the more.

“I was waiting for you tell me when.”

He chuckled and switched his attention to the cherry pie, taking an extra-big bite to assuage the growing desire to run his fingers up her knee, which was left nicely bare by her skirt.

“So tell me about the other guy,” he said.

She held a hand under her cream-dripping fork as she moved it toward his mouth. “What guy?”

He began to refuse the bite of chocolate marshmallow pie, or rather her offering of it, then did the opposite by opening his mouth instead.

“The one at the counter panting after you all night,” he said with his mouth half full.

“Dustin? Dustin doesn’t pant. He moons.” The smile eased from her face and she suddenly avoided his gaze.

Then she appeared to make her mind up about something and her expression opened up again.

She brushed her hands together then went to the register, taking out a handful of change. The jukebox had gone silent while they talked.

“Any requests?”

“B-17.”

She laughed.

He liked that she got the reference.

“Who sang that song?” she asked. “No, wait … don’t tell me. I’ll get it.”

“I’d tell you if I knew. Female, I know that.”

“Olivia Newton-John.”

“Yeah … yeah. I think you’re right.”

She made her selections then came to sit down again. “I know I’m right. B-17 is the song.”

They shared a laugh as she picked up her fork again.

God, but he couldn’t remember a time he’d enjoyed an evening more. Her easygoing demeanor, sexy smile and revitalizing openness made Geneva great company.

And, he hoped, great in bed.

“So, does it always get that insane in this place?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised by how popular Meat loaf Mondays are.” She smiled and licked her fork. “It’s usually pretty busy all the time, but right now the flu is knocking down a few more staff than usual.” She sipped her milk, reminding him of a kitten lapping cream. “Well, that and blind dates.”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the missing waitresses had a blind date, I guess. At least that’s the rumor.” She toyed with a bit of crust. “I hope it’s not true or Trudy might fire her.”

“Can she afford to?”

“Afford to or not, she will. Trudy’s funny that way. You could break every glass in the place, but if you’re honest and here on time, she’ll keep you on.”

“I’m thinking honesty is important in a business of this nature.”

“Yeah.” The song changed from an upbeat to a slow tune on the jukebox. “So how long are you in town?”

“A week.”

The reminder of why he was back here was enough to loosen the fit of his pants a bit, but not much.

“You staying with family?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Bunking at the motel on University. You?”

“I live here.”

He chuckled. “Right. Sorry.”

“My mom and I did live together for a while, though …”

Something in her voice captured his attention.

She cleared her throat. “She passed a little over two months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Damn. Talk about a pants-loosening change in conversation.

“Thanks. She was sick for a long time. Lymphoma. She was diagnosed shortly after she moved here.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

They ate in silence for a while.

Then she leaned back and groaned. “God, I can’t believe I ate so much of this. I feel like I’m going to burst.”

Mace looked at where they’d nearly polished off all four pies. “I can’t believe it, either. Although I think I have a ways to go before I reach bursting stage.”

She smiled. “I may have room for a bite or two more.”

Geneva Davis was unlike any woman he’d met in a good long while. By now, most of the women he usually dated would have checked their lipstick at least twice and made one run to the ladies’ room to check on the rest of their appearance.

Of course, he allowed that this wasn’t much like a date, either.

Still …

“Are you career?” she asked.

“Military? Nah. Six months to go.”

He found it interesting he’d answered in the negative. When had he made the decision not to sign up for another tour?

Just then, he realized. No matter what happened at Lazarus this week, he knew he didn’t want to exchange active duty for a desk job in Washington.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For asking me that. I didn’t know what my answer would be until you did.”

“You were considering staying longer?”

“I was.”

“But not anymore.”

He took in her pretty face. “Not anymore.”

His cell phone vibrated at the same time hers rang.

They laughed. Mace took his out of his pocket even as she consulted hers.

Janine.

Damn.

He refused the late-hour call and put the cell back into his pocket, watching as she pretty much did the same thing.

Then she began toying with the crust again.

“Someone you don’t want to hear from?” he asked.

She nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.”

Then, surprisingly, he found himself telling her all about Janine and what had gone down eight months earlier.

He couldn’t be sure how long he’d talked, or exactly how much he’d revealed, but she’d patiently listened, nodding when the situation called for it, making encouraging sounds when he needed them.

“So … just to be sure I’m following you,” she said once he finally stopped talking and teetered on the verge of regret for having said too much. “She not only left you for someone else because you were gone too long … She was messing around with him while you were still a couple, even introducing him as a friend to you during your last leave and including him in things you did together…. And now that you’re back, she wants to see you again?”

He grimaced. “That would be the long and the short of it, yes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He raised his brows and leaned back. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. Not really.

He did know he didn’t want to get involved with her again.

She fell silent.

“And your phone call?” he asked.

She blinked up at him. “Huh?”

He repeated the question.

“Oh. Dustin.”

“Ah. The panter.”

“The mooner.” She rested her chin in her hand, her elbow propped against the counter. “Or, as the rest of the diner staff like to call him, my baby daddy.”

She tilted her head slightly to look at him as if waiting for his response.

“Oh. You have a child together.”

“No. Not yet.”

He squinted at her. “Now I’m not sure I’m following you.”

She looked away as if weighing whether or not to continue, then met his gaze fully, her chin coming up a tad higher than before. “I’m pregnant … and he’s the father….”

4

THERE. SSHE’D said it.

Geneva paid an inordinate amount of attention to the crust she was pushing in and out of the whipped cream that remained in the chocolate marshmallow pie pan. By rights, she should have said something much sooner. The minute they’d sat down at the counter. Maybe even found a way to casually mention it early on. Something along the lines of, “Gee, I can’t remember my feet ever hurting this badly when I wasn’t pregnant,” or “Boy, if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d take you back to my place and do all the naughty things I see playing out behind your sexy eyes.”