21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (109 page)

“Hey,” he murmured and kissed her shoulder. “It’s almost dawn.”

“I know.” They lay side-by-side, she on her stomach and he on his back. Fresh flutters of desire began to beat in her breast despite her exhaustion. Looking at him, touching him—it was all a gift that she could never have imagined. “I don’t want tonight to end.”

But that’s what she signed up for—a one-night stand, an escape from her life to enjoy the passion she loved to write about.

“It doesn’t have to.” Greg rolled onto his side and rested his head on his knuckles. He ran his finger up and down her spine, lazily tracing her skin from her ass to her shoulders and down again.

“No?” She pushed up onto her elbows, trying to ignore the hope flaring in her heart. “But I thought you wanted a one-night stand?”

“Not anymore.” His voice darkened with need. A frown marred his forehead. “Unless that’s all you wanted.”

The glimpse of vulnerability undid her. She was so used to fighting for what she wanted, whether it was getting a book published or getting her grandfather to take his meds and look after himself, that she hadn’t allowed herself to think that a one-night stand could answer the most basic need in her—the need to share her life with someone.
Whoa. Getting way ahead of yourself.

Licking her lips, she tried to organize her thoughts. To find the rational argument. “I wanted—you. I signed up for the service because I heard about it during research I did for a book, but the owner never answered any of my requests for an interview or research. I’d half-forgotten it until….”
Oh, this is embarrassing
. But if he wanted to pursue anything with her, it was better to be honest.
Right?

“Until?” he prompted her; his gaze practically pinning her to the spot.

“Until you got me all hot and bothered the night you walked me to my car.” Not allowing herself to look away, she waited for his response.

“You signed up because of me?” He seemed to be verifying his facts.

“Yeah. Stupid, huh?”

“No.” He surprised her. “Because I signed up for you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. I even wrote a description of you for my application.” For the barest moment, embarrassment flickered in his beautiful face and she melted further. So strong, so raw, so terrifically masculine, but beneath it all—his soul was so exquisitely real. “I wanted to ask you out, but I always seemed to be pissing you off.”

She should be ashamed, but she wasn’t. “I was jealous of my grandfather. I wished you were my friend and coming around to see me. Wow, you must think I’m an idiot.” Writing romance and being good at it were completely different things.

“No, I think you’re complicated.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder again. “Beautiful. Sexy. Funny. Loyal.”

“Complicated?” The way he said the word made it sound like a compliment.

“I like complicated.” He tucked a finger under her chin. “Last night, I got to know you, and I want to keep getting to know you.”

Nervousness bubbled up beneath the thrill of those words. “Until you have to go?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled. “A.J.’s asked me to stay and I plan to.”

“Really?” She could work anywhere, but she didn’t want to and wouldn’t leave her grandfather.

“Really.” He nodded. “You’re stuck with me.”

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. “So—we’re not a one-night stand?”

“Not even close.” He cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her with such tenderness, tears filled her eyes. “I can’t wait to get to know you, Georgia Crane.”

“I’m not calling do over on this,” she warned. Her heart threatened to burst. She could fall in love with him so very easily. Rugged hero, wild lover, and gentle soul, all rolled into one amazing man.

“Good.” He wrapped his arms around her. “We’re going to date for six months, you’re going to share custody of your grandfather with me, and this Christmas, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Her eyes widened and she curled into him. “You have a plan.”

“Hmm-hmm.” He kissed her forehead. “I have a plan.”

“And if I don’t agree to this plan?” She couldn’t help but tweak him.

He grinned. “It’s my job to convince you. And I will.”

Of that, she had no doubt. “Do you know what happens in my books at this point?”

“Please tell me it’s more not-fading-to-black scenes?” he teased and cupped her breast.

“No, it’s more….” She leaned up to kiss him, and whispered, “Fade to happily-ever-after scene.”

“With lots more sex?” He nibbled her lower lip and the desire in her roused, hungry for him again.

“Lots and lots. You have ’til Christmas to convince me, after all.”

He rolled her over and pinned her to the bed, his naked and very aroused length pressed against her. “Challenge accepted.”

The Saturday after Thanksgiving dawned bright and cold. A fresh blanket of snow carpeted the town and turned it into a winter wonderland. Shops were open and the first wave of Christmas could be seen everywhere in the decorations and cheerful greetings. Miller and Jones left the ranch the week before Thanksgiving, happier, more settled Marines than when they’d arrived.

Greg felt the same. He didn’t wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat regularly and, when he did, Georgia was there to soothe him back to sleep. Everything was better after the summer—his body, his heart and his soul.

After a long summer of work, A.J. and Greg had the ranch all ready for winter and had a plan for spring. They would open the doors to recovering veterans who needed additional time, physical labor, and a place to get away from it all when they were done at Mike’s Place. The ranch wouldn’t be a full-fledged center, not the way Luke built his facility in Texas, but it would be the place they could go to
Turn the Corner
.

Which also served as the new name for the ranch. The deeper snow also meant Crane couldn’t go on his long walks up through the woods, but Greg made sure to meet him every day around lunchtime to walk the town—and get his education about Freewill history. Today, he intended to broach a different subject.

One he’d not brought up before.

Georgia
.

“She’ll say yes,” Crane commented as they walked toward the big tree in the town square. The annual lighting ceremony would kick off at dusk with music, food, and merriment—despite the brutal cold.

“How do you know what I plan to ask her?” He meant it more as a rhetorical question. He’d learned over the last several months that Crane knew just about everything about everyone—usually before they did.

“A man knows that look. You’ve wanted to ask for a while, but you are a planner. You owed an obligation to A.J. and you wanted to be sure to see it through. You wanted to prove to my stubborn granddaughter that you are a man of your word.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And you’ve done both these things.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think so.” He believed it. He and A.J. shook hands on working together at the ranch. He had a home there and it wouldn’t be long before A.J. sold him a small section to build his own place. A.J. insisted. Greg had an idea for the house he would build—and exactly where. On the hill overlooking the vistas with plenty of room for Crane, so he could walk and listen to the wind whenever he cared to.

The old man might be harder to convince than Georgia. But he had a plan for that, too.

“You will ask her tonight?”

“When they light the tree. You don’t mind going with Sheri and A.J., do you?” He’d already checked with the other couple. They were more than happy to look after Georgia’s grandfather. Particularly since Greg rented the remote cabin again and planned to steal away with Georgia for the next few days.

“Why would I mind? It is good you plan to ask her at the tree lighting.” Crane paused outside of the barbershop. He and the owner often played cards together in winter when business was slow. The older Indian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a book. He held it out. It was one of Georgia’s. “You’re ready to listen to the wind.” Crane winked and went inside.

Greg laughed. He hadn’t seen this one, but he recognized the setting in the background. He flipped the book over and read the back of it. He recognized the hero and heroine, too. Curious, he flipped to the end and read the last chapter.

The woman wrote about her own marriage proposal—right down to the question being popped at the tree-lighting ceremony.
Complicated. Beautiful. Charming
.

He memorized the dialogue and grinned. Whistling, he tucked the book into the inside of his jacket. He’d left behind a piece of himself in Iraq, a piece he would never get back. But it was okay. He’d come to Freewill and found so much more with Georgia.

Hell yes, he would listen to the wind.

A 1Night Stand Story

Always a Marine - Book 16

By

Heather Long

~Dedication~

This is for all of my readers, seriously. I have some of the best readers in the world, the enthusiasm and love you show my Marines never fails to make me smile. Thank you so much for going on this journey with me
.

Kara Childs hated being late more than anything else.
Well, maybe not more than cooked carrots, but pretty damn close
.

Locking her desk, she sped down the hall while digging for her car keys. She was late, but she loved her job—and the veterans she worked with were worth the investment—even when unexpected patient needs led to schedule snafus. The veteran’s rehabilitation facility started as a project by Marines for Marines, but had grown to include all branches of the military, as did the staff. While she’d never served, her older brother deployed to Iraq, and her family got a flag and empty coffin to bury in return.

Her parents hadn’t wanted her to take the job, not when the ghost of her brother’s service might surround her. They struggled with their own anger and grief—anger at the Marines for taking him away, and grief for his loss. But from the moment Captain Luke Dexter sat down in her parents’ Atlanta living room and described his goals, she had to be a part of it.

One week after they’d accepted their first patients, she moved into an apartment on the campus and dove into the work as a physical therapist. Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, working there helped her feel closer to Keith—as did helping the men and women who made it home even when her brother hadn’t.

She worked hard—particularly with some of the stubborn souls who walked through the gym doors—but adored every minute. Whether conducting classes in yoga and flexibility to decrease wounded soldiers stress and increase strength, or just hearing them out, she couldn’t ask for more rewarding work.

Tonight’s planned therapy didn’t help anyone but herself. Working around Marines every day reminded her of what she’d lost—both her brother and his best friend, one who refused to do more than keep a polite distance.

Stubborn bastards, both of them
.

She waved at Logan Cavanaugh, who headed in for his shift as she exited hers, but she refused to slow her pace. She’d already worked extra hours to cover for another therapist out with the flu and had just under ninety minutes to shower, shave, and primp for her date. Not that she had to rush or anything.

“Kara!” Logan called out.

Dammit
. Swinging around, she gave him a distracted and harried wave. “Hey sweetie! I’d love to chat, but I’m going to be late.”

He didn’t let her blow him off, pacing toward her until she had no choice but to stop and wait. “Be careful tonight. Have a good time, but keep my cell number handy. I’m free to come pick you up, if you need it.”

Frowning, she studied the scarred visage in front of her. One corner of his mouth didn’t tilt all the way up. He’d been a good-looking man before his accident, but the scars added intensity.

“Who have you been talking to?”

“Don’t worry—only Jazz. She told me you signed up. Told both of us. Just…be careful.”

Oh, this is rich
. Especially coming from one of Jazz’s two husbands. Kara loved the female Marine, one of her personal clients, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t throttle her for throwing Kara to the wolves.

“I’m going on a date. You know, the kind you met your wife on? I think I’ll be fine.”

Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned away, staring down the end of his nose at her. “Call me a hypocrite, but it’s a little different.”

“You didn’t have pushy, overbearing, older brother-types telling you to be careful?”

Glib could have been her middle name. Growing up the baby sister to Keith Childs taught her that if she didn’t stand up for herself and put the brakes on her brother’s need to insulate her from the big bad world, she’d never have any fun—at all. Guilt pinged against her conscience. He’d been gone five years—five long, empty years without his comedic messages or acerbic observations about her choices.