Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (3 page)

3

M
ACE
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

T
HERE
. S
HE
’
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.”

She couldn’t be sure why she’d been hesitant to say anything.

Yes, she could; she knew exactly why she hadn’t shared the news: because for that short time, she’d enjoyed being just her. Just a single woman enjoying flirting with a hot, single man.

“You’re…pregnant?”

The two words broke through her reverie. She tried to decide whether the emotion behind them was more of shock or regret, but all she seemed capable of concentrating on was now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, there was no getting it back in. You couldn’t exactly retract something like that. Pretend you were joking.

And why would she? For a frivolous, albeit surely hot night between the sheets with a handsome stranger?

Wasn’t that how she’d ended up as a single, expectant mother in the first place?

She grimaced and found herself eating the crust, even though she hadn’t intended to.

Comparing what had happened between her and Dustin two months ago and…well, tonight, was like saying the satin of a wedding dress and the satin that lined a coffin were the same.

She drank the rest of her milk to help wash the crumbs down.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Mace sat back as if stepping out of the path of a speeding truck. Not that she could blame him. Essentially, that’s what she was, wasn’t she?

Not that she viewed her baby in that light. While unexpected, she’d instantly grown attached to the idea of having a child growing within her. Her son or daughter. And meeting him or her topped the list of things she most looked forward to.

When it came to the opposite sex seeing her as dating material, however…well, she could understand how that would come as a major deterrent.

Was there such a thing as a pregnant-woman fetish?

She nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought.

What man in his right mind would want to make love to a woman already pregnant with another man’s child.

“So, you two were…are a couple?”

She blinked to look at him. “Dustin and I? No. We’ve always been just friends.”

He nodded slowly but she could tell he was not only not following her, he was so far behind he couldn’t make her out in the distance.

She propped her chin in her hand and tried to explain. Not that the confusing story was all that clear to her.

Taking care of her mother while her illness had slowly ultimately robbed her of the tiniest breath had hollowed Geneva out until sometimes it seemed only her beating, hurting heart remained. Her friends and everyone at the diner had been a tremendous source of support, but only she knew how deep her pain went. How watching her mom die by millimeters had profoundly impacted her.

Yes, she could have put her mom in a hospice. But she’d wanted to spend every moment with her that she could. And the only way she could work out how to do that was by having Hospice come to them at her apartment.

Then, suddenly, her mother was gone.

It still seemed…strange, somehow. The shock she’d felt at not having her mother there anymore. She’d been moving toward that end agonizing moment by agonizing moment, yet the moment she was finally released, Geneva hadn’t wanted to let her go.

And Dustin had been there to hold on to instead.

“We met when I first started taking graphic design years ago at University of Colorado, Colorado Springs,” she offered. “We’d always been friends and had never even considered dating,” she said quietly. “And I know he doesn’t want anything more now. Not really. He’s projecting what he thinks traditionally should happen on to our untraditional circumstances. Trying to do what’s right.”

She looked to find Mace still nodding…and still somewhat behind her.

Finally, he smiled awkwardly and shook his head. “I’m sorry. My response probably falls just shy of rude…or is maybe full-out rude. It’s just that I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re pregnant.”

She smiled. “Stick around. It won’t be hard in a month or so when I start showing.”

She caught herself. Of course, he wouldn’t be around in a month or so. He’d be off somewhere on his final six-month deployment. And even if he wasn’t, there was no chance he’d stick around anyway.

She squinted at him. Was there?

Behind him, the jukebox clicked on B-17.

They both laughed.

“Okay,” he said. “Time for me to stop acting like an idiot and accept the fact that I misread the signs.”

“Signs?”

His gaze moved over her face and she felt herself blush. “Yes. The regular girl-guy stuff.”

She smiled. “You didn’t misread anything. I’m pregnant, not dead, Mace.”

He wore that “speeding truck coming toward him” look again.

She reached over and touched his arm. “Sorry. You’re obviously having a hard time with this. So why don’t we just keep this simple.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Geneva Davis and I’m pregnant. Would you like to be friends?”

He stared at her hand, then her face, then her hand again. He slowly took it. “I’d love to be friends, Geneva Davis.”

* * *

F
RIENDS
…

A good ten hours had passed since his late-night conversation with Geneva in the deserted diner, the jukebox playing in the background, whipped cream, pie plates and glasses of milk littering the counter in front of them, and all he could think of was, despite everything she told him, he wanted to be much more than friends.

“Sir?”

Mace looked at Jonathon Reece, one of Lazarus’s personnel.

“Darius would like to speak with you.” He held out a cell.

He took the phone. “Thanks.”

He stepped away from the table in the downtown Denver hotel conference room. He’d been in there for an hour going over the sketchy schedule of the visiting dignitary with Lazarus reps and sheriff’s deputies, waiting for Darius to arrive.

“Hey,” he said into the phone.

“Hey, yourself. Look, I got called in on an urgent matter back at the office. Would you mind taking the lead?”

Mace glanced at the ten Lazarus reps, nine men and one woman, who were looking expectantly at him.

“I’m afraid it looks like it would be for the duration. I’ve got a kidnapping/ransom case out of L.A. that just came in….” Darius continued.

Mace grimaced. Not because he wasn’t up for the job. But because he would only have today to build up a rapport with the personnel he would be overseeing.

He took in Reece standing military tall a short ways away.

“I’d rather not. Isn’t there someone else you trust? How about Reece?”

“He’s good, but I need someone with more experience. And I’m not talking security. One of Norman’s reps will be there in an hour. He’ll give you a full rundown of what we’re looking at threat-wise. And the sheriff’s office already has several routes mapped out.”

“I’ve seen them.”

“Good.” Dari said something to someone on his end of the line. “I really wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was absolutely necessary, Mace. I’d owe you big-time.”

“Last check, your debt is already considerable.”

Dari chuckled. “Got me there. Tell you what, I’ll name my firstborn after you…”

Mace held the phone to his ear even after he’d signed off, the mention of children bringing Geneva back to mind.

Why, oh why, did she have to be pregnant?

He handed Reece his cell, took out his own and told the crew to take fifteen.

He’d gotten her number last night, but honestly hadn’t intended to use it.

Why then was he running his thumb over the cell pad, the mere thought of hearing her voice making his pulse run faster?

The room emptied out and he sat on the edge of the conference table. He pressed the button to illuminate the cell screen only to find another voice-mail message from Janine.

He sighed and rubbed his face. At his motel, he’d finally retrieved her messages. Five all told. The first two had been quietly nice. The next two longer narratives—the last one, she’d simply said she really needed to talk to him.

He didn’t like the sound of that. And, yes, he admitted, a part of him was afraid of how he’d react when he finally saw her, even though he knew, with everything he was, that he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Frank and I broke up… Well, I broke up with him…Almost immediately after you left for your last tour…Look, Mace, I know I have no right to ask you this, but it’s important I talk to you… In person… Apologize…”

But it wasn’t that message so much as the next one that proved the cause for concern:

“I’ve missed you…” A small, nervous laugh. “You know how hard that is for me to say, don’t you? Me? Who’s never wrong about anything.” A pause then, “But I was wrong about this. Wrong about you. I should never have done what I had. You didn’t deserve it. We didn’t deserve it. I really need to see you. Please…”

It had been damn near impossible to get to sleep after that one. He hadn’t heard a word from her in months. Then the minute he gets back into town, he’s bombarded with calls.

He honestly didn’t know what to do.

He caught himself running his thumb over the cell pad again, Geneva’s name and number highlighted in his address book.

He smiled.

Yes, he did. He knew exactly what to do…