Back in the Soldier's Arms (28 page)

She pursed her lips.

“I know that you thrive on opposition, believe politics should be clean, the world just and the environment protected.”

“All public knowledge,” she countered. “Especially Mark Wahlberg.”

Dan leaned forward. “I know the Chronicle is your pride and joy but sometimes it feels like an albatross around your neck.” She blinked. “I know you want kids because you grew up without siblings, and for some reason you’re now pretending you don’t.” Jo shifted in her chair. “I know it’s not commitment that scares you, but claustrophobia because I feel the same way. And that we’re friends because we give each other room to breathe.”

Her eyes widened and he felt equally surprised. Some of this was news to him, too. “I know,” he said slowly, “you wonder if your relationships fail because you’re too independent. But it’s because you’ve been dating the wrong guys. The ones who act tough but whose masculinity is threatened by a woman who can take care of herself.” They stared at each other. Dan tried to remember where he was going with this. That’s right, talking her into marrying him.

“All that makes you a good friend,” said Jo, “but there’s no spark, Dan. I didn’t feel anything when I kissed you in Auckland and neither did you. You were horrified.”

“Because I was getting a hard-on with someone I’d only ever thought of as a friend,” he said bluntly.

“You were as relieved as hell when I said it wasn’t about you.”

“I was shipping out the next night. I didn’t have time to deal with it.”

“Be honest, none of this would have come up again if you hadn’t been through a tragedy.”

He frowned. “Does it matter how we got here? You say you didn’t feel a spark when we kissed. Let’s verify that.”

She swallowed. “You mean kiss?”

He remembered that night in Auckland. Her breasts, the see-through top, remembered her bold tongue. “Unless you’ve got a better offer?”

She ignored that. “And if there’s no spark on my side, you’ll back off this wedding?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t participated in that kiss; this one he was definitely getting involved. And Dan knew how to please women.

“Fine.” She stood up, gestured for him to do the same. Before he’d fully straightened, she’d pressed a quick kiss on his lips and stepped back. “Like I said, nothing.”

“Nice try, Swannie.”

She sighed. “You mean a kiss kiss?”

HememÑ€† knew not to smile. “I mean a kiss kiss.”

“No groping … we’re talking first base.”

He ran teasing fingers over her forearm. “Just to be clear on the green zones. This okay?”

She frowned. “Quit making fun and let’s get this over with.”

His fingers continued stroking up the angora sleeve, over her shoulder and closed around the bare nape of her neck.

As he bent closer, Jo’s eyes grew wary. Nervously, she closed them and braced herself. Dan kissed her, angling his mouth over hers with gentle pressure. Her lips tightened. Under his hand, her neck tensed. Dammit, he needed this to work. Cupping her face with his free hand, he coaxed her resistant lips apart with his tongue. She tasted good, smelled good … if only she’d relax into it. But Jo remained wooden in his arms.

Now he knew how she’d felt kissing him.

Frustrated, he broke contact. “This only counts if you kiss me back.”

They tried again. Reluctantly her tongue touched his, withdrew, then came back, tentative and sweet. Vulnerable in a way he’d never associated with her. It caught him off guard. Made him feel—

Jo broke free. “Dan, I’m sorry.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “But this is too weird.”

Stunned, he removed his hand from the nape of her neck. “In that case,” he rasped and she glanced up hopefully. Dan stopped. Her irises were like thin bands of predawn gray around a black horizon.

He stroked his thumb along that stubborn jawbone and Jo’s pupils flared wider. “Nothing, huh?”

“Not a thing.”

“Your pupils are dilated,” he said. “What?”

“It’s an involuntary sexual response.”

Her lashes fell and she moved away. “That’s one reason pupils dilate. There must be others.”

Dan followed her. “Well, yeah, you could be a drug addict or have accidentally ingested jet fuel or contracted rabies.”

She turned on him. “Look, this is ridiculous, I don’t fancy you. End of story. Now call off the bloody wedding.”

Something didn’t add up. “Why are you so resistant?”

“I had coffee with your mom today. She’s worried about you.”

Dan tried not to stiffen. “It’s one of her hobbies.”

“I’m worried about you. Pat said you’re not sleeping, working too hard—”

“For the last time, I have not got post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“No, you haven’t,” she agreed.

He eyed his best friend warily. “But?”

“But you’re still grieving and you’ve got it into your head that marrying me is the way through it.”

“That’s bullshit. I’m prioritizing what’s important to me and—”

“Hear me out. Please.” Jo took his hands, her exprge2Ñ€†ession serious. “You and I have been friends forever, it’s natural we fall back on each other in hard times. Maybe make more of our friendship than we should. But your grief will pass, Dan, and so will these feelings for me. Then we’ll be friends again.” She smiled. “And you’ll meet someone you really want to marry, have multiple children and I will dance at your wedding.”

“To what?”

“Excuse me?”

“What song are you dancing to?” he inquired. “When you’re imagining my wedding to someone else?” Her smile faded. “Let’s stick to the point.” “Humor me.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed. “The chicken dance.”

He smiled. “I’ll make sure it’s on our playlist.”

She dropped his hands. “Think about it, Dan. The other day you said you wanted to live big for Steve and Lee—shouldn’t this be about us?”

“You’re right.” He managed to keep his tone even. “That’s why I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

Jo saw by his face that she’d struck a nerve so she didn’t argue. Instead she closed the door quietly behind him and rested her forehead against it. With her whole heart she wanted to give Dan the comfort he needed, but that wasn’t in either of their best interests right now.

Especially given her unexpected response to his kiss. It had taken everything she had not to kiss him back. God, no, she thought despairingly. Why did she have to want him now?

At the sound of approaching footsteps she straightened. When Polly entered the room, Jo was clearing the champagne flutes.

“Rosemary’s settled in the conservatory with her jam-making recipes,” said the nurse. “There’s a shepherd’s pie in the oven for dinner.”

“Thanks, Pol, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“He asked me how I knew you.” Jo paused. “What did you say?” “I made something up. Jo, why did you never tell him the truth?”

With a sigh, Jo gestured to a chair and Polly sat down. Pouring the nurse a glass of champagne, she picked up her own but didn’t drink, absently watching the bubbles rise through the pale straw-colored liquid. “He’d take Nan on in a heartbeat, you know that? He didn’t even flinch. But then Dan’s always shouldered more than his fair share of responsibility. Walking his little sisters to school, minding them at home. He was always the go-to guy for our friends. He said to me once, ‘You’re the only person I never worry about, do you know how restful that is?'”

“And if you told him that will change?”

She said slowly, “I think if I saw pity in his eyes I’d shoot him and then myself.” Jo put down her glass. “I know it’s not rational, but I’ve always needed him to see me as someone as strong as he is. It got me through a lot this year.” She shrugged. “Something has to stay the same, you know?”

The other woman nodded, sympathy in her gaze and Jo looked away. “Anyway, this isn’t about me. Dan lost two of his mates last year…. I think this is really about coming to terms with his mortalitye tÑ€†.”

Polly winced.

“Exactly,” said Jo and stood up. “So, shepherd’s pie you say?”

Back in the Soldier’s Arms/Here Comes the Groom

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CHAPTER SEVEN

DAN PUSHED HIS MEAL around the plate, too aggrieved to do more than pick at his mother’s excellent roast beef. He’d only accepted Pat’s dinner invitation because she’d started complaining that Herman was getting all their son’s “quality time” and Dan didn’t want her thinking he was taking sides. And how had she repaid his loyalty?

With a knife in the back. He stabbed a portion of beef. “Can you please quit telling people I’ve got post-traumatic stress disorder?” he said curtly. “I wasn’t even on patrol for f … flock’s sake.”

“It wasn’t people,” his mother corrected. “It was your best friend.”

“What were you two meeting for, anyway?”

Pat took her time finishing a mouthful of baby peas. “She’s worried about you … and your strange behavior over this wedding. So are your father and I.”

Herman raised his eyes from his roast potatoes, met Dan’s hard stare and dropped them again. “Let them sort it out,” he advised his wife.

“You mean do nothing and hope the problem will go away,” Pat returned. Silverware chinked against china as she put down her fork. “Danny, will you please tell your father you can manage August ewe vaccinations without his assistance? We’ll miss the whole northern summer at this rate.”

It was Dan’s turn to receive a hard-eyed stare from Herman. How the hell did he end up monkey in the middle again? “I’m staying out of your private life, Mom,” he reminded her, hacking through a dinner roll. “In fact, maybe you could take a lesson from that. And quit deflecting—I’m the injured party here.”

He pointed his knife accusingly at her as he continued. “You don’t want me to marry Jo so you engineered a get-together to sow more doubts in her mind. As if I don’t have enough to deal with already, without you adding new ones.”

Angry color flagged Pat’s cheeks. She leaned forward, her pearls swinging dangerously over the gravy boat. “If you must know, Jo organized the meeting to tell me she isn’t marrying you.”

Dan’s sense of ill use grew. “I’m guessing you two really bonded over that.”

“I have to say I liked her more than I ever have.” Pat sat back and picked up her cutlery. “She has no intention of taking advantage of your emotional fragility.”

“My what?“ Okay, now he was really pissed. “I’ve spent the past five days trying to get that woman to take advantage of me. Now you’ve taken me back to square one with this psycho-babble bullsh—”

“Son,” Herman warned. Mouth trembling, Pat looked down at her plate.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “I know you believe that stuff.” As an apology it sucked but right now it was the best he could manage.

“I only want you to be happy,” she said in a small choked voice.

“I know you do, but—”

“And self-help books can be transformational.” Dan hid his incredulity. “I gave Jo a wonderful book called Contented Dementia but she accidentally left it behind.”

Accidentally, my ass. “What a shame.”

“I’ll get it and you can drop it off in the morning when you’re trimming the hedge.” As soon as she left the dining room, Dan and Herman exchanged a look.

“You two better not be rolling your eyes in there,” Pat called. Returning with the book, she laid it by Dan’s plate. “It wouldn’t do you any harm to read it, either.”

How had they got off topic again? “Just promise you’ll keep your opinions on my so-called emotional fragility to yourself in future,” he said irritably. “And you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Pat snorted as she took her seat. “You can talk, Daniel Jansen. You said you’d stay a neutral party in my battle with your father over Italy and yet you’re constantly enabling him.”

“Enabling?” Dan looked to Herman for an explanation but his father’s expression was vacant. See no Pat, hear no Pat, speak no Pat. Honestly, these two were as bad as each other.

“Letting him spend all his time at the farm,” Pat explained. “How am I supposed to pry him out of the rut when you’re making it comfortable?”

Dan pushed his plate aside. “Is this about ewe vaccination? Just because I’m not pinning Dad down to a handover date, Mom, doesn’t mean I’m taking his side. We never talk about Italy.” Again he glanced at his father, who kept stolidly eating.

“Exactly,” Pat exclaimed. “You’re enabling his avoidance..

If you’re not part of the solution, Dan, you’re part of the problem. At least I try to help you where I can.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He’d had enough. “Dad, make Mom happy and set a departure date. And forget about the farm’s calendar. I can always employ contractors if I need to.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” said Herman, “I seem incapable of making your mother happy.”

Great, now he was in a snit.

“Incapable?” Pat sniffed. “Unwilling more like.”

Herman threw down his napkin. “I had this town house built for you, didn’t I? Wait a minute … wasn’t that suppose pဆed to make you happy?”

Pat’s eyes flashed. “Don’t take that hard-done-by tone with me. You know it was only the first stage of our retirement plan. And what’s the point of this place anyway, if you’re hardly here?”

“Okay, you’re talking now,” Dan ventured cautiously. “Keeping the communication lines open … that’s good isn’t it, Mom?”

She ignored him in favor of glaring at his father. “Herman, if you don’t set a retirement date right now—”

It was like watching two locomotives steaming toward a head-on a collision. “Venus and Mars, Mom,” he reminded her. “You know men don’t respond well to ultimatums.”

“Well, Herman?” Pat said in her dangerous voice.

Dan swung his attention to his father. “Dad, make a concession.”

Instead Herman folded his arms and jutted out that stubborn Dutch chin. “Patricia, this isn’t the way forward.”

“As long as I’m moving, I don’t care anymore,” Pat cried. “I’m so sick of this standing still.”

“C’mon, Dad, you can do it. Cut the hot wire.” Defuse the goddamn bomb.

Instead his father broke the most basic rule of Understanding Women 101. He shrugged.

Dan dropped his head in his hands and waited for the detonation.