Surrender: A Little Harmless Military Romance (2 page)

Amanda silently swore when she dropped the tongs for the third time in five minutes. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and tried to control her heartbeat. Malachai Dupree in her house. God, it was something she hadn’t really thought would happen.

Well, it had before but this was different. She was different. The past six weeks she had been having daydreams about him, night dreams about him, and the stray thought about him had her brain scrambling and her body overheating. She had been acting more like a sixteen-year-old with a crush than a twenty-three-year-old widow.

“Did you need some help there?” he asked.

She glanced at him, and she found herself at a loss for words. He was leaning against the counter drinking a glass of water. The red polo shirt he wore stretched over his massive chest. He was beyond gorgeous. Sculpted muscles, dark mocha skin…and all that control. Amanda knew without a doubt he would be amazing in bed

That little quiver in her stomach happened again. Dammit.

“Amanda?”

God, she loved his voice. The hint of New Orleans threaded his deep baritone. Worse, any time he talked, she would watch his mouth. It was impossible not to look at it and wonder how it would feel as he moved it over her skin.

“Amanda?” he asked, the worry in his voice finally getting through to her.

She shook her head when he stepped toward her. No good would come of him touching her. Right now, she was barely keeping herself in check. “No, I’ve been dropping things a lot. Just one of those days.”

He relaxed against the counter again and smiled. “Doesn’t bode well for your wedding tomorrow.”

“Well, there is that. But I have some helpers.” And Malachai Dupree wouldn’t be staring at her. Like he was now. She glanced at him as she rinsed off the asparagus. “If you want to earn your food tonight, you need to dry these off, then wrap the bacon around them.”

He gave her a look that told Amanda he wasn’t accustomed to a woman telling him to work in the kitchen. But he still did what she ordered.

“How did you get to be such a good cook?”

She shrugged. “Mama loved to cook. It’s a family thing.”

“It’s hard to see General Simmons hanging around the kitchen.”

She shrugged. “Mama didn’t think having stars made him the commander of the household.”

Mal chuckled, and her heart danced along with the tune. It was worse, much worse, with each passing day, but there was something about him, something that made her so danged happy she couldn’t help being around him.

When she realized she was just standing there staring at him, she shook herself and pulled out a cutting board.

"Your family is very culinary. What happened to you?" she asked.

"What, you think I can't cook?" his voice was filled with mock disbelief. “Personally, I am offended.”

She shook her head. "You were buying hot wings for dinner."

"Doesn't mean I don't like to cook or can't. Just didn't feel like it tonight. And my room doesn’t really allow for it."

She sensed something in his voice and glanced over at him. "Not liking the new job?"

He shrugged. "It's temporary, only until this other person gets back. I have figured out one thing from my three weeks so far at the Pentagon."

"What's that?"

"They're all fucking crazy there."

She laughed. "Dad always called it a necessary evil for his career, but he didn't like it much either. It's why he was happy to get out with two stars. He was ready to spend time at home."

"It couldn't have been easy growing up military like that."

"There are privileges to it, too, and I’m not talking about being a general's brat, but being just a military brat. Crappy having to move every two years, but I’ve lived all over the world, and I speak four languages."

“There is that. I guess it isn’t something I thought about before my sister got married to Kade. Then with Samantha pregnant, sort of brings it all home.”

“I can assure you, it isn’t always fun. It sucks a lot of the time, but I don’t think I would have wanted to grow up any other way.” She glanced over at his bundles. "You're pretty good with your hands, Mal."

He paused in wrapping the last bundle and then her face flushed when she realized what she had just said. Hell, she was acting like an idiot. Worse, she wanted to keep this relationship. No, not relationship. Friendship. That’s all it was. All it ever would be.

She decided it was better to just pretend that she hadn't said a thing. "W-why don't you pop those into the oven? I'll get the scallops started."

It took him a second to act, and that was when she realized she was ordering him around the kitchen. Amanda knew from rumors that he was a Dom and was a member of Capital Punishment in DC. He probably wasn't accustomed to women telling him what to do.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

She noticed he'd snagged a beer. "Not at all, as long as you pour me some of that wine."

She finished mincing the garlic, then grabbed the flour and scallops. Pouring a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in the skillet, she set it to medium heat and started to prepare the scallops.

"I was surprised that you decided to stay in the area," he said.

"You’ve said that before, but I do like the DC area. Not so much DC, although I like being near all the touristy things, but I like the weather here, the people. I like the idea that I can walk down the street and hear five languages in just a matter of minutes. Even out here in the burbs."

“I guess that appeals to the military brat in you.”

She nodded. “What about you? With Berg over there in Hawaii, and a sister and brother there also, have you thought about going for one of those teams over there?”

Even as she said it, she felt her heart sink a little. The idea he would be so far away made her sad. She had no rights to him, being only his friend, but she knew if he moved away from the DC area, she would probably not hear much from him.

“I thought about it. I like Hawaii. I like it here, though.”

"Ah, you might change your mind after spending a few more days at the Pentagon."

"There is that. But as I said, it's temporary. Since the days are lean with officers, when one of us gets deployed, they grab someone else to fill in. Of course, it's odd that they picked me, being a Seal."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually, it’s a last resort that they would pull someone in a career field like mine. They spend a fortune to train us, so it isn't something they like to do. But we aren't on the schedule to be active for another three months, so I guess a couple of months of me doing this will make me happy to go back out in the field."

She knew better. They didn't just pick him. She had been around the military long enough to understand that the man was being prepped for some kind of higher-up position. They wanted him to move up out of the Seals. But she wasn't going to deal with that. Most active duty people ignored her comments. Even her husband had.

She brushed that thought aside and dropped the first of the scallops into the pan. She had let the oil get too hot and it popped up onto her hand.

"Dammit."

Mal grabbed it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little burn, nothing big."

He pulled her over to the sink. "You should be more careful."

His brow was furrowed as he studied her flesh before turning on the cold water and thrusting her hand under it.

"Mal, it's okay."

He looked up at her, and she realized that she was only inches away from him.

"Uh..."

He didn't finish. She didn't blame him. Her brain wasn't working too well, either. She could smell that unique musky scent of him as she drew in a big breath. Her breast brushed against his arm, and he shuddered.

He dropped her hand like she had a disease then turned off the water.

"You should put some cream on that hand."

Her body was still throbbing, her nipples tightened almost to the point of pain, and he was asking her to do something. Her brain would just not allow it. Not right now. It seemed to have stalled on the way his fingers had felt gliding over hers as he'd slipped her hand under the water.

She grabbed a towel and pressed it against her skin. She didn't really think she needed first aid cream, but she did need space.

"Could you keep an eye on those scallops. Turn down the heat to low while I get some cream."

He nodded and stepped out of her way. By the time she reached the bathroom, her heart was almost beating normally again. She closed the door, then leaned back against it. Holy mother of God. What the hell was that? She'd had a crush on him that she'd kept under wraps for a while. Mal was a military man, and since she’d lost her husband, she had made sure that she'd steered clear of them. It wasn't something she ever wanted to go through again.

She pulled herself together and pushed away from the door, rummaging through her medicine cabinet to find the cream. She shut the mirrored door and looked up at herself. Her face was flushed, and she could even see her pulse fluttering in her neck.

Dammit! She needed to keep away from him from now on.

But even the thought had her heart breaking. She couldn't think of being far away from him even if she wasn't romantically involved with him. She knew women who liked the thrill and would jump from military man to military man. Some even specialized in career fields like pilots or Seals. She had never been that kind of woman. In fact, even with her husband, she had avoided it. Kyle had been military through and through, and not in the best of ways. To this day, she hadn’t told a soul about what she had discovered while he had been away on that last mission. She had been too embarrassed. After that experience, she wanted nothing to do with military in the romantic way. It was hard to avoid altogether when she still had two active duty brothers and a retired general father.

She splashed some water on her face and then blotted it dry. This was just one night, one dinner. She owed Mal this home cooked meal after all he had done for her. She could get through this night and then maybe all this sexual tension she felt would disappear.

She opened the door and walked down the hall. When she turned the corner into the kitchen, the scene caught her completely off guard. Mal was standing at the stove, expertly flipping over the scallops. It shouldn’t turn her on so much, but seeing him do something so mundane, so…normal, was arousing. He glanced at her and smiled, and her stomach didn’t just quiver, it did a somersault.

Oh, mama, she was in trouble.

Mal was happy when dinner went by without incident. It was easy to concentrate just on the food. For a guy who grew up in a family of chefs, it was hard to be impressed by others’ cooking.

"So you aren't liking the Pentagon work?"

He shrugged. He'd been asked that enough from friends and family. It was as if they expected him to either say he loved it or hated it. At the moment, other than the usual problems, he just missed being in the field training.

"Too many people, too much drama. They run on a forty-eight hour day, or it seems that way."

She laughed, and he felt his heart soften. She was a woman who should always laugh. It made her eyes sparkle and her whole body shine.

And he was not supposed to be thinking about that.

"Dad talked about his first day there. He was walking in from the metro station and some guy fell down, had a heart attack. Dad and one other guy stopped. Everyone else just kept on walking."

"But he stayed at the Pentagon for a long time."

Now she shrugged. "He wanted a star. He wanted all four at one time."

"What happened?"

She took a sip of wine then set the glass down on the table. "Once he got his first star, the gold lost its shine. He had his second when mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. He said it made him realize that the next two stars didn't mean crap without her by his side, so he resigned his commission and retired."

"Oh, I didn't know your mother had been sick."

She gave him a surprised look. "How could you? I was in high school."

"She's doing fine now?"

She smiled. "Yeah, remission for years, but their slower pace life has something to do with it, I'm sure. So what are you going to do when they give you a permanent job at the Pentagon?"

He shook his head. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for the Pentagon, but he had seen the knowing looks from others.

"This job is only temporary."

She snorted and picked up her glass again.

"What?" he asked.

"Take your head out of the sand, Seal. They're grooming you."

He felt his belly tighten. Mal had been worried about that. Especially after he talked to his supervisor.

"I don't think so."

"You made O-4 early, right? And no offense, but you have an excellent record, a masters, and the big thing, you're an African-American. You are too much for all those stars to resist in the Pentagon."