Читать книгу Night After Night... - Kathy Lyons - Страница 7

CAPT. JASON WHITE WAS FACED with a no-win situation. He could turn tail and run, never a good option in his opinion. Or he could go for the coffee and face the subject of his weirdest erotic dream.

He had never wanted to be one of those metro guys who dressed fashionably and talked manicures. So why the hell had he dreamed he was giving a facial to his kitchen-mate? Not that it had been a bad thing. Turns out the chestnut-haired schoolteacher had bombshell breasts and he had gotten off on doing wonderful things with them. So had she, apparently, but he felt a little cheated that his own wet dream had stopped before the glorious finish. At least from his perspective. He didn’t mind being gentlemanly in real life. In fact, he insisted on it. But in the privacy of his own nighttime fantasies, he wanted his fair share.

But now he was standing right in front of the object of his most lustful fantasy. And worse, she was wearing a sundress that hinted at the glory of her breasts but didn’t actually confirm anything. And damn it, he wanted to know if what he’d dreamed was anything like the reality.

“Uh, good morning,” she said over her bowl of cereal as she hastily stepped back to give him room. Given the galley kitchenette, there really wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and she backed straight into the refrigerator. Her face was flushed, probably from her shower. And the towel that wrapped her hair started to tilt as it bumped the freezer handle. “Oh!” she gasped as she reached up to grab the towel. But in her hand she had a full bowl of Froot Loops, which was beginning to slosh.

He reacted on instinct. He grabbed her bowl, keeping it from spilling, but also wrapping his hand around one of hers. She had lovely hands, the fingers long and elegant but with blunt, unpolished nails that didn’t stab him. Her free hand went up to brace the towel, but it was too late. The thing came undone and her wet hair tumbled down.

Again, he just reacted. He caught the towel with his other hand, and then they were standing there, both of them with one hand on a bowl of cereal and the other on a wet towel. And all he could think was that she was close enough to kiss.

He watched her gaze dip to his chest and back up, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He wasn’t vain or anything, but some things were obvious. He was just wearing a pair of shorts and after being blown sky-high in the Philippines, he’d lost a stone in weight. That left him thinner and weaker, but also gave him muscle definition like never before. In fact, his sister had asked if he could pose for her Men of the Military calendar. He’d declined that offer, but he wasn’t about to say no to his living erotic dream.

Too bad the woman wasn’t asking. She was just thinking, and as a gentleman and an officer, he just couldn’t make the first move. Not to a near stranger. So he opted for a simple “Good morning.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shy backward even farther though there was nowhere to go. “I’m such a klutz. Especially in the morning.”

“You weren’t being klutzy. It was the towel’s fault.” And so saying, he lifted the bowl from her hand to set on the counter. She went for the towel and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes.

“Dumb towels! Always getting in the way.”

“They’re a menace,” he said, nodding gravely though his lips were twitching. She made him want to smile, and given his past month, that was beyond incredible. Sadly, the humor faded as they both just stood there staring. She had beautiful eyes. Rich, brown and large, but there were crinkles on either side of them that told him she smiled a lot.

Lust slammed through him hard. From the moment his friend had given him the details on his new kitchen-mate, he’d known he was in trouble. He’d learned she was a hot, single kindergarten teacher, and since he’d always had a wholesome-girl fantasy, a sexy dream was the next logical step. He got off on the girl next door with the easy laugh. Given his rough childhood, he hadn’t known many girls who fit that profile. And here she was, standing before him like a Christmas present, waiting to be opened by him. Or so his libido believed.

Meanwhile, her blush was growing deeper, painting the skin of her chest a rosy hue. “Um, I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said. “I’m Christy Baker. I’m here for a few months to help with summer tutoring.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw you when you moved in and my buddy in housing mentioned it to me.” He didn’t mention that his buddy Mac had probably handpicked Miss Baker as his kitchen-mate for a not so ethical reason. Mac thought Jason desperately needed to get laid. Given his reaction to her, he couldn’t really argue. Jason held out his hand. “I’m Jason White. I’m here to … I’m here for a while. Hopefully not long.”

He was here on indefinite medical leave while the docs tried to get him to remember his last mission. There was something really important right there at the edge of his very messed up memory that he knew he had to get to. But it remained a stubborn blank wall. So he remained here.

“Um,” she said again, her blush reheating. “I’ve really got to get to school. Got a new student …”

It took him a second to realize she wanted out of the kitchenette. Well, of course she did. He probably looked really scary, some scarred-up stranger staring at her. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Right. Sorry.” He backed out of the tiny galley. “Can’t think right now.”

“Go ahead and take the rest of the coffee. I always make too much.”

“No such thing,” he said automatically. But that wasn’t the reason for his confusion. No, it was because all his blood was down south of his brain.

He backed up far enough that she didn’t have to touch him as she scooted out of the galley. But it wasn’t far enough to keep his lust in check. He got a full view of her profile, and damn, yes, there were those bombshell breasts bound in some iron-tight women’s bra. But what hit him just as hard was her scent. Clean and sweet. Some herbal shampoo and fresh water. No perfumes, no sweat, just clean, sweet woman. It was all he could do to stand there and not drag her into his caveman home.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. She was ducking into her room and quietly shutting the door before he lost control of his inner Neanderthal. Sadly, it didn’t help much. The flimsy door and the equally frail lock would be no match for him if he ever descended into real caveman mode.

The problem was that Miss Bombshell Schoolteacher was not a summer fling kind of girl. She was the marrying kind, and that made her strictly off-limits. He didn’t miss the irony that all those things that made her off-limits were the exact reasons he wanted her so badly. Completely aside from his girl-next-door fantasy, he’d just turned thirty last month. That was old enough to stop wanting to run around swamps looking for bad guys and start thinking about living stateside with a wife and kids.

But whereas Miss Christy would make a great wife and mother, he would make a lousy husband and father. Not with this hole in his memory and the nagging feeling that lives were at stake because he couldn’t get his brain to work right. His unit was still out in the Philippines, risking their lives looking for the chemical weapons factory that intel said was somewhere out there. And he knew he had the answer locked somewhere in the recesses of his memory.

Or at least he thought he knew it. Or he hoped he did.

He reached blindly across the kitchen for his mug of coffee.

He wasn’t a whole man. And only a cruel bastard got involved with a woman like Christy when he couldn’t move forward with his life. Not until he resolved this damn dilemma.

Problem was, his dick didn’t like thinking about “fair” or “forever.” His dick only wanted what it wanted.

Lord, he had better remember what he’d forgotten soon. Otherwise, his next-door schoolteacher was in for one hell of a summer.

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! Christy thought the words over and over as she left the kitchen to relive her mortification in private.

He was so hot! Ripped body, gorgeous tan and blue eyes. He had blue eyes! What angel had smiled on her to give her such an awesome kitchen-mate? No wonder she’d been dreaming about him. She’d probably seen him coming or going sometime yesterday and had constructed a fantasy. Who wouldn’t?

Oh, my God, was she still drooling?

And why was it the first time they’d met, she’d had her hair wrapped in a towel and was slurping Froot Loops. God, she had the worst luck ever. She took a deep breath and tried not to feel completely stupid over their encounter. But instead of reliving her humiliation, her mind went straight to that moment. It was the one where he’d been close enough to kiss.

He’d just taken the cereal from her suddenly weak wrists and she’d pulled the towel out of the way. And they’d just stood there looking at each other. She hadn’t thought about the wet strands of hair plastered against her cheek or that she probably had milk on her chin. She just had the strongest desire to kiss him. It would have been so easy! And he’d been right there.

She hated that her mind had gone straight to some very wicked places just because he had an amazing rock-hard body.

So she hadn’t given in to her dark fantasy. He was a person, damn it, not her personal sex toy. But wow, she’d give a lot to have a summer fling with him. That was not a politically correct thought, but right now, she didn’t care. She’d come to Hawaii to make a change, do new things, and a summer fling was something she’d never, ever done before. All the men she’d dated at home were bland, boring and treated her with kid gloves. A hot marine was as opposite from them as she could get.

Of course, there were a zillion sexy military guys all over this base, but Capt. Jason White was the one she wanted. He was the guy she prayed would fulfill her adolescent dream of a man out of his uniform. So long as he wasn’t in a relationship—and assuming she was clear that at the end of the summer, she was headed right back to Cincinnati—then there was nothing to stop two consenting adults from steaming up the Pacific island.

That was her plan. She was going to have a fling with her kitchen-mate. She just had to think of the right way to seduce him.