Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 10

  Anyway, he was trying to be.

  Sometimes when I have trouble falling asleep, I take a warm bath, Samantha offered.

  Okay, there was an image he didnt need. Samantha wet. Samantha naked. Samantha with her round breasts floating on the surface of the water like a couple of lilies.

  He shifted and the mattress creaked.

  No baths, he said. The hot water tank seems to be working, but were on a well here. Tomorrow, after I get the generator going, Ive got to prime the pump and test for water contamination.

  How do you know that? Samantha asked.

  Talking was good. Talking was better than thinking what he was thinking.

  I grew up on a farm.

  Your parents are farmers?

  My father is a former navy doc who made a pile of money as a hotshot brain specialist in Baltimore. My mother is Conover Pointe country club and DAR all the way. But they raise horses.

  And children. She sounded wistful.

  Yeah, but the horses never let them down.

  His jokeif it was a jokefell flat in the darkness. He could hear Samantha breathing. He could feel her waiting. He could keep talking into that warm, receptive silence or he could roll over and

  Talk, lunkhead.

  Im sure no brain surgeon, he said.

  Is that what they wanted? she asked quietly.

  Hed never known and he didnt have a clue how to ask. Hed been ten years old when he went to live with the Evanses: a too big, too quiet kid who struggled in school, a freak with nightmares and no memories.

  He used to wonder when he was growing up if hed done something so horrible his brain had blotted it out. Something so bad no one from his life before wanted him after his parents died. Right after the Evanses adopted him he used to torture himself with the idea that maybe his birth parents hadnt died, that they didnt want him either.

  Mostly now he didnt think about it.

  They never told me, he said. I think my dad was disappointed when I turned down the football scholarships, though. I could have gone to Maryland.

  Marcus wasnt sure why he told her that.

  Why didnt you?

  I wanted to be a SEAL.

  Navy, like your father?

  And brother, he admitted. Drew was a search and rescue pilot.

  You didnt want to fly planes?

  I didnt have the scores to get into Annapolis.

  But with your fathers service record

  I didnt want to be accepted to the academy because my family pulled strings. Anyway, I went to Coronado as an enlisted and got my degree at night.

  I can respect that. I know my appointment was only a courtesy thing after Stan died. But Id like to be confirmed on my own merits.

  It was understanding on a level Marcus hadnt expected and was grateful for. So he gave back to her what he could. You negotiated that treaty on your own.

  And you went throughWhat did you call it? BUD/S?

  Yeah. Six months of the toughest military training in the world.

  Six months? That long?

  How long were you in graduate school?

  Point taken. He couldnt see her smile, but he could hear it in her voice. He felt the mattress dip as she shifted, smelled the trace of her perfume.

  He was dying and going to hell for what he was thinking now.

  He was already burning.

  To distract himself, to distract her, he said, The training never ends, really. Youve got five weeks indoctrination before the physical screening test. Basic conditioning is eight weeksthat includes Hell Week. Four hours sleep in five and a half days of continuous training. He wondered if hed get that much sleep this week. She smelled really good.

  Talk, he told himself.

  He cleared his throat. Second phase is diving, another eight weeks. Then nine weeks of land warfare, three weeks basic parachute training at Army Airborne in Georgia, fifteen more weeks at the Naval Special Warfare Center. At which pointif you havent dropped dead or dropped outyou get your Budweiser and assignment to a SEAL Team.

  You do all that and they give you a beer?

  He shook with silent laughter. No, thats what we call the pin. The Naval Special Warfare trident insignia. A budweiser. For BUD/S, you know?

  You didnt do all that for a pin, either, she observed softly.

  He had to be honest with her. In a way I did. Because that pin marks you as part of the toughest, most elite fighting force on sea, air or land. Once youve got that budweiser, you can walk onto any base, into any bar in any port all over the world, and every man there knows it. You know it. I wanted that.

  To know what you were made of.

  Yeah. And then, because that sounded so touchy-feely and he felt dangerously close to her in the dark, he added, Plus, I really dig swimming around blowing things up.

  Now she laughed, a warm, throaty chuckle that made him think of Kathleen Turner and full penetration sex.

  I can sympathize. I certainly had dayswith the Rebelian delegation in particularwhen I would have loved the option of blowing things up.

  Yeah, well, we do it so you dont have to.

  Keeping the world safe for truth, justice and the American way? she asked wryly.

  He was used to the Superman gibes. But Samantha didnt sound as if she was making fun of him. I dont know so much about truth and justice. Im not the one with the Harvard degree in government. But I do believe in my country.

  America, right or wrong?

  He shook his head, forgetting she couldnt see him in the dark. More like, America, right more often than not.

  And you would die for that. She sounded serious.

  He didnt want her serious. He didnt want to know that in addition to being tall and stacked and incredibly hot, she was also kind and perceptive.

  And so he tried to make light of both his danger and his dedication. Id fight for it. Im pretty hard to kill.

  Im glad, she said softly.

  She touched him then, just her hand, warm and light between his shoulder blades.

  At her gentle touch, his heart swelled. He swelleddamn, he swelled everywhere.

  He stuffed one arm under his head, squashing his pillow flat, and closed his eyes.

  He was going to sleep now. He could do it. He was trained to grab power naps when he could, to drop off quickly, to wake up instantly.

  He concentrated on relaxing his muscles, on emptying his mind, on steadying his breathing, in and out, and tried not to notice how his weight depressed his side of the mattress and rolled her toward him. How her body warmed the air at his back. How her scent crept to him in the dark.

  He was a navy SEAL. He could control his sleep.

  But not his dreams

  In the water, no one could catch him. He was sleek as a seal, quick as a dolphin.

  Mark, come in, his mother called, ankle deep in the blue water. Her figure wavered against the dazzling white sand. One arm shaded her eyes. />
  He laughed and dived.

  He dived.

  He divedand the water was cold and deep, and the current was fast and strong.

  He pulled against it, unafraid. He heard the boat explode behind him. So soon? Too soon. But he was expecting it, their mother had warned them, so when the water surged around him, he relaxed and tumbled with it, over and over.

  Dark. It was so dark.

  Particles stung his arms and legs. Blood roared in his ears. Fear drifted at the edge of his mind, but he pushed it away.

  He was the strong one, and the water was his home.

  He floated, orienting himself, opening his eyes against the grit and the saltwater, seeking the light. Up. There.

  He kicked. The light grew. The water rushed around him. His head broke the surface, and he gulped great, glad gasps of air. Hed made it! He was strong.

  He turned his head, laughingWe made it!and counted other dark, wet heads in the water. One, two, three

  The fear this time struck cold and sharp as a cramp.

  Where was his sister?

  His heart pounded into his throat. He opened his mouth to call, to scream, and a wave reared up and slapped him in the face.

  He choked. Spat. Gasped.

  He gasped.

  Marcus?

  Her small hand tugged at him. Her words rippled over him, warm as the sea at low tide.

  Marcus, wake up.

  He bolted upright. His heart pounded. His skin was clammy. Disoriented, he blinked at the pale, concerned face in the dark.

  Samantha.

  He dragged a shuddering breath into his lungs.

  It was only a dream, she said soothingly. You were dreaming. Everything is all right.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand, as if he could wipe the images away. Sorry.

  You have nightmares? Her voice was gentle.

  No. Yes. Hell. I thought I was over them.

  Is it the explosion? The Stoker?

  Yes. No. He didnt want to talk about it. He never talked about it. Freak. But he had woken her up. She deserved some sort of explanation. I mean, theres some sort of explosion, but I dont thinkIts all mixed up with my sister.

  Honey.

  No. The other one.

  You have another sister?

  The loss cut like a combat knife, jagged and deep. Pain flowed in to fill the wound. He took another deep breath.

  No. Sorry, he said again. I just

  Its all right. Samantha didnt press him. He was embarrassingly grateful that she didnt demand answers he didnt have. Had never had. Not since

  Her fingers spread on his chest against his damp T-shirt. Her touch seared him through the thin cotton. His heart thudded against her palm.

  Lets take off this shirt, she said. And then you can lie down and go back to sleep. Its all right.

  Obedient as a child, he helped her pull the wet shirt over his head before he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He felt her shift beside him, felt her knee brush his thigh and her hair tickle his shoulder. Her breath was warm. Her hand was steady on his chest.

  His lips were stiff, but he had to tell her. He had to thank her.

  Sam

  Shh, she soothed. Sleep.

  This time he slept without dreams.

  And woke in the morning with his body heavy and throbbing with need, and Samantha draped over him like a blanket.

  Eight

  S amantha woke with her fingers splayed on Marcuss hard chest and her nose pressed to his hard shoulder. Her smooth thigh rode his hairy one. Her elbow rested on his warm, ridged stomach.

  She stared at the tight brown nipple inches from her face and thought, Goodness. This was certainly different.

  Good different, but strange.

  For over a year, she had missed sleeping with a man. In the lonely stretches of the night, she missed the warmth and the sound of breathing. She missed the simple human contact of flesh touching flesh. Now she inhaled slowly, stealing air, luxuriating in the morning closeness of male heat and male weight and male scent. It was wonderful. Reassuring. Familiar.

  Different.

  Marcus Evans was not her husband.

  His skin was darker and firm. His hair was thick and springy. He smelled differentmuskyhis skin and his hair and his breath. She sniffed again, cautiously, and felt her insides soften and loosen.

  He was bigger than Stan, too. His chest was massive. His abdomen was solid with muscle. Legs, arms, hands, feethe was big all over. She slid her leg exploringly.

  Goodness, yes. All over.

  I dont know that I trust myself to lie next to you all night and not, you know, act like a guy. Or react like a guy. If you get my drift.

  Samantha smiled. He certainly was reacting like a guy now. She was touched, flattered and aroused by the way Marcus responded to her even in his sleep.

  Last night shed soothed him the way she would have comforted the children she longed for. Maybe she could have fooled herself into believing the tenderness she felt was maternal.

  OnlyShe looked at the sheet tenting his erection. It was quite clear this morning he was no child.

  Okay. She wouldnt pretend, even to herself, to be shocked or surprised. What did surprise her was that she was reacting to his morning arousal like awell, like a woman. The woman she hadnt allowed herself to be since before Stan died. The woman shed denied.

  His breathing was slow and even. Curious, tempted, she let her hand drift down over his hard, furred abdomen to the band of his boxers. He didnt move.

  Heart thumping in anticipation, she eased her hand under the soft elastic barrier. Her fingers combed the coarser hair at his groin before she stopped. Should she? No, of course she shouldnt. But his long limbs were still relaxed in sleep. Only the heat of his arousal strained just out of reach beyond her fingertips.

  He was less than inches away. So warm. So close. She flexed her hand and touched him, her fingers barely brushing his hot, firm, smooth flesh. She sucked in her breath. Oh, goodness. Oh, yes.

  She stole a look at his face.

  And found him watching her from under lowered lashes, his eyes as warm and brilliant as the sea off the coast of Italy.

  Gotcha, he said.

  Her cheeks flooded with embarrassment. But there was no accusation in his eyes, only a lazy appreciation that made her heart beat faster.

  She moistened her lips and did her best to sound easy and sophisticated instead of nervous and needy. It seems to me that Im the one whos got you.

  Not yet, he said frankly. But you will if you dont move your hand.

  Oh. Flustered, she started to withdraw her hand from his boxers.

  He gripped her wrist to hold her right where she was. Sure? Because in case you havent noticed, I am more than w
illing.

  She had to laugh. Oh, I noticed. Thank you. But I thinkThat is, I dont

  Too soon? he asked.

  She nodded gratefully. Im sorry. I realize when you woke up you must have thought

  That Id died and gone to heaven?

  That I was taking terrible advantage of you.

  Nope. Didnt think that. Mostly when a guy wakes up and finds a beautiful woman with, you know, her hand down his shorts, he doesnt think much of anything. Especially not that shes taking advantage.

  Im sorry, she said again.

  For what?

  This is so unfair to you.

  We could make it fair.

  She blinked. How?

  His warm blue eyes caressed her. You could let me touch you.

  Her breath clogged her lungs. Let you

  Let me touch you. To make things even, he explained.

  He had to be out of his mind to suggest such a thing. She had to be out of hers to consider it.

  Make things even, she repeated.

  Yeah. He sounded serious.

  Youre joking.

  Not really. He held her gaze a moment longer and then shrugged, making her arm move against his stomach. Okay. Bad idea. But you did ask.

  It was a bad idea. A terrible idea.

  A dangerous idea.

  You just want to touch me? she asked uncertainly.

  His eyes flashed. Actually, Id like to do a lot more than that. But touching you would even things up.

  Her pulse raced. Her body hummed. The sunshine edged the blind with gold and painted a bar of light across the foot of the bed.

  All right, she whispered.

  Marcus looked as stunned as she felt. Yes?

  Yes. Its only fair.

  He smiled the wide, bright smile she loved. Hot damn.