Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (8 page)

13

G
ENEVA
SAT
AT
HER
DESK
the following morning, trying to finish up some work before Mace was scheduled to pick her up for lunch. But she wasn’t having much luck.

Last night, well, last night was a mix of both the fantastic and the confusing. She and Mace…

Her mind broke off, veering from her attempt to control it, as it had so often since getting up that morning following minimal snatches of true sleep.

She released a bone-deep sigh, remembering the way Mace had kissed her, touched her, filled her, bringing her to climax again and then again. He’d moved her more than merely physically, touched something vast inside her that had everything and nothing to do with sensual pleasure. She’d felt somehow joined with him on every plane. Looked into his eyes while he was inside her and saw him, herself and everything in between, as if nothing separated them.

Then he’d shut her out as solidly as he’d closed the bathroom door.

She caught herself absently scratching her arm through her sweater and stopped.

The swing was extreme enough to leave her breathless.

She knew his emotional withdrawal was related to his brother. What had he said his name was? Marcus. Yes, that was it.

But after sharing so much with her, why had he moved away, more than just physically?

As he’d requested, she’d stayed in the room until he emerged from his shower. She’d dressed and semi-made the bed and was sitting in one of the two chairs near the window. But he’d looked the same when he came out as he had when he went in, puzzling her all the more.

She knew whatever he was going through had nothing to do with her. But she couldn’t help thinking his distancing himself wasn’t a good sign.

Baggage. Everyone carried around their fair share. She looked down at where she rubbed her belly. Would Mace open up and share his with her? Or would he move on, his psychological suitcase still securely locked?

Of course, she was assuming that they’d remain in contact when he returned to duty next week…

She squinted at the computer screen, finding the prospect of saying goodbye to him permanently somehow inconceivable.

Her cell phone rang. She fumbled to pick it up, almost desperately thankful for the distraction, reading the display screen. Not Mace.

She took a deep breath and accepted the call from her client. No doubt he wanted more changes.

Ah, well. At least it was the distraction from her thoughts she needed, if not wanted; perhaps it would spur her into action work-wise until Mace got there. Then she’d know more how to proceed with what was becoming an increasingly complicated situation.

Was it simply a speed bump? Or had the countdown to goodbye already begun?

She told herself it didn’t matter, one way or the other.

But she hoped with everything that was in her it was the former and not the latter…

* * *

T
HE
MORNING
HAD
GROANED
by without a break, but the instant Mace saw Geneva coming out of her apartment building to meet him instead of waiting for him to come up, it was as if the rain parted, allowing for a sweet ray of sunshine to shine through.

He got out of the car to open the passenger’s door for her.

“You look great,” he said, appreciating her dress and heels, while trying not to stare at her sexy legs.

“Thanks.”

She climbed inside and he closed the door after her.

In the little downtime he’d had since last night, he’d been dreading this lunch with his parents, as well as dreading what he might see in Geneva’s eyes when he saw her.

Until now…

While he wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing his parents, the open and warm expression on Geneva’s beautiful face served as an eraser to the morning’s stresses. And his own worries.

After getting little sleep, due in part to the incredible woman seated in his rental car, he’d met up with Jonathon Reece at Lazarus to review footage of yesterday’s events, trying to identify the gunman and apprehend him before Norman’s next rally, which was later this afternoon. Neither the general’s team, nor the Denver police department, had any clue who it might have been. Not even a bullet casing had been retrieved, indicating the gunman had either plucked it up after firing, or perhaps even shot through something in order to catch it, such as a Ziploc bag. And that meant they weren’t dealing with a random nutcase as they had suspected, but a possible pro. Eyewitnesses hadn’t been able to give any more description than he’d already discerned from his chance run-in with the suspect. The guy was a Caucasian male somewhere in his late twenties, early thirties, wearing a gray hoodie with the hood up and fastened tightly. They couldn’t even say what color his hair had been, much less his eyes…and neither could he.

He climbed into the car.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked Geneva.

She blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

He smiled. “This lunch. It’s not too late to back out.”

She laughed. “Sounds like you’re the one more likely to back out.”

“That’s because I know what awaits.”

“It can’t be that bad?”

“That’s because you don’t know what you’re walking into.”

She smiled back. “Well, then, it might be a good idea to put it behind us as quickly as possible.”

He shifted the car into gear. “A good idea, indeed.”

The restaurant where he’d arranged to meet was some five minutes away, making it an easy drive for him, yet far enough away from his parents’ place that they couldn’t press him into going home with them for an extended visit. The last time he’d gone, he’d barely been able to breathe. If it were possible, they’d turned the house into an even bigger shrine to Marcus’s memory than it had been before, including photos he hadn’t ever seen.

Within moments, he’d pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He wasn’t surprised to see his parents’ sedan already parked near the front in a handicapped spot since they’d picked up his grandfather en route.

His grandfather…

Now him, he was looking forward to seeing.

He didn’t realize he’d turned off the car and was just sitting until Geneva lightly touched his arm.

“Ready?” he asked, taking the key out of the ignition.

“Yes.”

And before he knew it, he was being led to his parents’ table near the front of the restaurant where they’d undoubtedly watched him pull up. He introduced Geneva to them.

Sharon and Mike Harrison were a kind couple. Friendly to everyone with whom they crossed paths. And they openly welcomed Geneva now, as he expected they would. If they were surprised he’d brought someone along, they hid it well. But he noticed his mother, especially, smiled a little more widely.

But it was his grandfather who smiled the widest.

“Well, hello,” he said in a way that would have been almost salacious had he been a younger man.

He watched Geneva for her response; her own eyes danced with the same playful light as his grandfather’s. Which is what he’d hoped. Given her position as a waitress, he guessed she encountered more than her fair share of open attention. He was glad she wasn’t insulted by his grandfather’s.

Dwayne Harrison got up with a little difficulty, leaving his cane untouched as he pulled out the chair next to him with gallant flourish. “Please, if you could be kind enough to grace an old man with your pleasant company.”

Geneva accepted while Mace returned his parents’ curious glances with a smile.

“I didn’t realize you would be bringing someone with you today,” his mother said.

“Sorry, I invited Geneva late last night and didn’t have a chance to tell you before now.” The free seat put him between Geneva and his father.

He didn’t miss his mother’s expectant expression, indicating she was waiting for more.

He didn’t deliver it.

His grandfather was busy charming Geneva who, indeed, appeared charmed.

“So, have you been dating long?” his mother asked.

Geneva nearly choked on her water. She quickly picked up a napkin and dabbed at her chin, giving him an amused glance under the thick fringe of her lashes even as his father suggested maybe the question was too forward.

“We’re not,” Mace said in answer to her question.

“I’m sorry?” Sharon said.

“Dating. We’re not,” Geneva provided. “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends…”

“Good,” his grandfather spoke up. “That means the field’s wide open for me. A man my age needs all the help he can get.”

The men and Geneva laughed while his mother appeared appalled.

Menus were brought and orders placed, Mace silently counting the seconds when the meal would be over with and he could get out of there, even as he admired Geneva and the easy way she handled his grandfather and his parents. Things were going so well, in fact, he found himself relaxing, enjoying the company rather than suffering through it.

Sharon Harrison was still an attractive woman. A golf lover, she’d kept in great shape and could easily pass for a decade younger.

His father, on the other hand, looked his age. Dedicated career military, he’d seen his share of violent conflicts, both on the front line and commanding them.

Geneva easily conversed with his parents as if she’d known them for years instead of minutes.

His mother sighed deeply. “I wish you could have met our Marcus. You two would have gotten on famously.”

And just like that the light mood fell through the floor…

14

G
ENEVA
SLID
A
GAZE
in Mace’s direction at the mention of his brother. His body language couldn’t have been any clearer: the smile vanished from his handsome face, his jaw clenched and his shoulders squared. And had he really just looked at his watch? Yes, he had.

The table fell silent at the mention of Marcus. But whether it was in deference or warning, she couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sure I would have liked him, too,” Geneva said quietly.

Sharon Harrison seemed to take that as some sort of cue and continued on Marcus, who instantly became not so much a memory but a palpable presence.

Even Mace’s grandfather had gone quiet, pretending an interest in his soup.

Within a blink, everything had gone from light and happy to somber and heavy.

While Geneva genuinely wanted to know more about Mace’s brother and his family, she had the feeling that the cloud descending on them all wouldn’t help her in that endeavor.

“I thought you all should know… I’m pregnant.”

The table fell silent.

Geneva supposed she should be appalled at her own forwardness. She usually wasn’t the type to draw attention to herself. But the growing toxicity of the current environment was making her uncomfortable. More importantly, it was making Mace unhappy. And she’d do anything to prevent that. Even make a spectacle of herself.

Luckily, her words had the intended impact by distracting her tablemates from their dark thoughts.

Sharon coughed, apparently having trouble swallowing, while next to her, Mace’s grandfather gave her a nudge even as he fixed a grin on Mace. “Harrison guns still firing straight, eh?”

Thankfully Mace laughed. Not the kind of polite, accommodating laugh but a full-out chuckle. “Wish I could take the credit, Gramps, but truth is Geneva and I met only a few days ago.”

“The baby’s not yours?” Sharon asked.

“The baby’s not mine.”

For reasons she wasn’t entirely sure about, Sharon asked Mace to trade seats with her. A waitress appeared to help rearrange their plate settings.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the older woman said with a warm smile. “I’ve spent so much time around guys, well, it’s just nice to enjoy female company. So tell me all about the baby…”

Geneva couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced such complete acceptance and excitement directed at her. Oh, Trudy and the girls were happy for her, but guardedly, realistically so.

On the plus side, Marcus’s name disappeared from the conversation. On the minus, Mace’s dad and grandfather seemed puzzled.

But it was Mace’s reaction that mattered. Just as quickly as he’d tensed up, he’d relaxed again. And when she looked to find him smiling at her, she swore she could feel it like a physical sweep of his hand against her bare back.

She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she’d done…but she hoped that she did it again soon. Preferably the next time they were alone together…

* * *

“
T
HAT
WAS
INCREDIBLE
,” Mace said quietly.

Geneva released her seatbelt after the nearly two-hour lunch with his family, trying not to feel too smug. She knew she’d saved the meal by offering herself and her pregnancy up as a willing distraction.

They’d ridden to her place in silence, but now Mace reached for her hand and held it fast in his.

Her heart hiccupped and she returned his grasp, reveling in the warm feel of his skin against hers.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked as innocently as possible. “The way I see it, I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“For a terrific meal. For a good time. For sharing your family with me.”

He looked away and grimaced.

She got the distinct impression his reaction was a preprogrammed one. Because from where she sat, the only grimace material had been that brief period before she’d announced her pregnancy.

“Your family is wonderful, Mace,” she said.

He looked at her, seeming to search her face for an answer she wasn’t sure she had, but openly allowed him to search anyway. “I’d forgotten that,” he said. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“No problem.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

It was the middle of the day and they still held hands but there didn’t seem to be a rush to leave.

But she knew he would be leaving. He needed to get back to work protecting that political bigwig.

But she’d be damned if she was going to remind him of that and miss out on sharing this closeness.

“I don’t know how late I’ll be tonight,” he said.

She nodded.

“I’d ask you to wait up…”

She smiled at him. “If you did, I would.”

He smiled back. “I’m thinking we could both do with a bit of sleep.”

She looked down and nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

She didn’t know how much time they had left together, but she wanted to enjoy every moment. Still, he was right: they did need some solid rest.

“Call you tomorrow?”

She nodded again. “Sure.”

He leaned over to kiss her.

She was sure he’d meant to give her a brief goodbye peck, but the instant his lips met with hers, they lingered.

Geneva breathed deeply, taking in the sweet scent of him. How she was coming to look forward to his kiss, his smell, his touch.

He leaned back and she sighed.

“Let me walk you up.”

She began to object but he’d already opened his door and was getting out.

She waited for him to open her door, feeling ridiculously touched that he liked to do these little things for her.

Before she knew it, they were standing outside her apartment door.

“Thank you again, Geneva.” His eyes were earnest. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed my parents’ company. Today, well, today isn’t something I’m soon to forget.”

“Good,” she said.

She reached out and touched the side of his handsome face, smiling deep into his eyes. Then she leaned in to kiss him softly, communicating more than gratitude or sexual need or even friendship.

Long minutes later, he made a low sound in his throat and pulled away.

“If I don’t go now, I’m afraid I won’t.”

“And your point is?”

He chuckled as he quickly kissed her one last time and slowly took his arms from around her. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

She watched him go, stopping every few steps to look back at her before continuing again. She didn’t go inside until she heard the downstairs outer door close behind him. Then she closed her own and leaned against it, staring at nothing and everything. She told herself she should be concerned about her wistful state. But her heart was hearing none of it…