Читать книгу Last Virgin In California - Maureen Child - Страница 11

“Do you ever do what you’re told?” he asked, voice tight.

“Almost never,” she said softly.

And damned if she didn’t sound proud of that little fact.

Standing here in the dark with her, Kevin wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle her or kiss her. Either way would only lead to trouble though, so he resisted both impulses.

Still, he felt her warmth, felt it drawing him in. And after being so cold for so long, the temptation to step closer was a strong one. Warning bells went off in his mind, but unfortunately, his mind wasn’t in charge at the moment.

Moonlight barely reached into this one little darkened corner of the base. But even in the dim light, he had no trouble making out her delicate features, the paleness of her skin or that wild tangle of hair lying about her face and well past her shoulders. He caught a whiff of her perfume and it tantalized him, making something inside him clutch up tight and hard. And he damn well resented it.

What was it about this one tiny woman that seemed to be getting past every defense he’d erected over the last couple of years?

“How’d you know I was here?” she asked, keeping her voice low enough that no one else would hear her. Especially over Staff Sergeant Michaels’s shouting.

How to explain that, he wondered. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d sensed her presence. He would cheerfully stand up against a wall and smile at a firing squad before confessing that he’d actually been looking for her. So he picked up her left wrist and gave it a gentle shake.

Silvery music tinkled into the darkness from the chimes she habitually wore.

“Ah,” Lilah said. “I knew I should have dressed a little more covertly.”

“A little more?” he asked, letting his gaze drift down her compact, curvy body. Even in the dark, he could see that she wasn’t exactly dressed for espionage. She wore some light-colored full-length sweater over yet another swirly skirt and a pale blouse. She couldn’t be more noticeable if she were doused in glow-in-the-dark paint.

“So I’m not spy material,” she quipped. “Besides, I don’t look good in black.”

He was pretty sure she’d look good in whatever she wore, but he had no intention of saying so.

“C’mon,” he said, still keeping a grip on her wrist. “I’ll take you home.”

She dug in her heels. “I could just stay here and—”

“Forget it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to where the new recruits were being hustled in out of the damp fog and into the receiving center. “Show’s over.”

She looked past him, then lifted her gaze to his. “Okay, I’ll go. But you don’t have to walk me. Sergeant Michaels is probably expecting you inside.”

True, he thought, looking from the tiny woman beside him to the well-lit glass doors to his left. But there were more Marines inside who could help out. And he didn’t think the Colonel would appreciate his daughter left to walk across the base alone in the middle of the night.

Decision made, he said, “Wait here.” Then he dropped her hand and marched off to receiving. It only took a moment or two to tell Michaels that he was taking off and then he was stepping back into the damp night, peering into the mists of fog drifting across the yard.

He glanced at the spot where he’d left her with orders to stay put. Naturally, she wasn’t there. Knowing her, she could be anywhere on base by now. “Dammit,” he muttered.

She laughed from somewhere just ahead of him. “Have you ever tried meditation?”

“No,” he said, narrowing his gaze to stare into the fog, looking for her.

“You should. It would help with that temper.”

“You know what else would help?” he asked as he moved forward quietly, scanning the area, searching for a glimpse of that pale sweater.

“What’s that?”

“People doing what I tell ’em to do.”

“Like giving orders, do you?”

“Better than you like taking them, apparently.”

Then she was there. Right in front of him. Materializing out of the fog as though she were a part of it somehow. Mist clung to her hair and body and shone in damp patches on her cheeks. She tilted her head back, smiled up at him and he felt a cold, hard fist close around his heart.

“You should keep that in mind then, huh?”

Oh, there were a lot of things he’d have to keep in mind about her, Kevin told himself firmly. Not least of which was the fact that she was the engaged daughter of the Colonel and only here temporarily.

“Doesn’t it look eerie out here?” she whispered and her voice was softened even further by the heavy mist surrounding them.

“Yeah,” he said. “It does.”

“Sort of like a horror movie.”

He’d never really noticed that before, but got into the spirit of things. “Just before something comes lurching out of the fog?”

She took a step closer to him and let her gaze sweep across the shrouded base. “Okay, bad idea to go down that road.”

“Scaring yourself?” he asked, surprised. Hell, he would have been willing to bet that nothing scared her. Certainly not her father. Or him. But apparently, the boogeyman could do it.

She linked her arm through his as he started walking. He knew this base like his own backyard. Foggy or not, he could get her back home with no trouble.

“Not a big fan of scary movies,” she admitted. “I get too involved, too drawn into the plot, then it’s like I’m the one being chased by a knife-wielding maniac.” She shivered. “Nope. Give me romantic comedies.”

The fog acted like a blanket, keeping them wrapped in a small cocoon of silence. Only their own footsteps sounded out, like twin heartbeats, thumping in time. The grip of her hand on his arm was strong and warm and damned if Kevin wasn’t enjoying it. It had been too long since he’d taken a walk with a woman. And even though this was strictly business, so to speak, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

“Me,” he mused aloud, “I’m more of an action-adventure movie person.”

“Gee,” she said with a half laugh, “there’s a surprise.”

He chuckled, too. “Nothing better than a few good explosions and a couple of firefights.”

“Ah, the romance.”

“Ah, the glory.”

They walked on in a companionable silence for another minute or two and then she spoke. Kevin had been wondering just how long she could go without talking. Clearly, not very long.

“So what do you do when you’re not being Gunnery Sergeant Rogan?”

“When am I not?” he wondered aloud.

“Vacations,” she supplied, “days off. R and R.”

It had been so long since he’d taken any personal time, he couldn’t remember what he’d done. Of course, before the divorce, he’d had plenty of plans for vacations and even retirement. Maybe buy a boat and run a charter fishing service off one of the islands in the Caribbean.

But then, his neat little world had dissolved and so had the plans.

Her question was still hanging in the damp air between them though, so he found an answer that would satisfy her curiosity. “I go see my sister and brothers. And my new niece.”

Lilah heard the pride in his voice and smiled wistfully to herself. As an only child, she would never get to be Aunty Lilah. And at the rate she was going, she’d never get to be “mom” either. Suddenly, she saw herself thirty years from now, curled up in her same apartment in San Francisco, surrounded by cats and peering through the curtains at the world going on without her.

Not a pleasant prospect, by any means.

“You know,” he said, “when you’re quiet, it’s a little scary.”

She chuckled. “A Marine? Scared? I don’t believe it.”

“Worried more than scared. What are you thinking about?”

Since the image of her older self alone with cats sounded a little too “pity-party,” she said, “Just wondering what it was like to grow up with brothers and sisters.”

“Loud,” he said.

“And fun?”

There was a long pause while he thought about it. Then he said, “Sometimes. Most times, it was work. I’m the oldest, so I was usually left in charge and—”

“So giving orders really comes naturally to you.”

“All right…”

“Sorry,” she said. “Go on.”

“Not much more to tell.” She felt him shrug. “I have one younger sister and three brothers. Triplets.”

“Triplets. Wow. Identical?”

“Oh, yeah. Almost no one can tell them apart.”

“But you can,” she said, enjoying that hum of pride in his tone again.

“Sure. They’re my brothers.”

“And your niece?”

“Ah,” he said, his voice warming, “Emily’s a heartbreaker. And since she’s walking now, she’s driving Kelly, my sister, nuts.”

Lilah enjoyed hearing about his family. Love filled his voice when he spoke about them and as he painted word pictures, she drew their images in her mind. The brothers looked like Kevin, she guessed, although she was willing to bet they weren’t as handsome. After all, what were the odds of having four gorgeous men in one family?

She imagined Kelly and her baby and—

“What’s Kelly’s husband like?” she asked, assuming the woman was married. She couldn’t imagine Kevin Rogan, master of all he surveyed, allowing his sister to be a single mother.

Beneath her hand, the muscles of his arm tensed slightly before relaxing again. Hmm. Not too fond of the brother-in-law, was he?

“Jeff’s a Marine. He’s on duty now. Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

“He’s Recon. Kelly doesn’t even know where the hell he is.”

“And you’re not happy about that,” she said.

He shrugged again and Lilah wished she could see his expression, but the fog was still too thick, sliding past them like phantom fingers.

“Marines make lousy husbands, that’s all.”

“Kind of a generality, don’t you think?”

“Personal experience.”

Ah. She remembered what her father had had to say about Kevin’s ex-wife leaving him a mess, so Lilah trod carefully. She didn’t want him to know she’d heard anything about his past. He didn’t seem the kind of man to enjoy knowing that his private life was still being talked about.

“So you were a lousy husband?”

His footsteps faltered slightly, then he went on and if she hadn’t been paying such close attention, she might not have noticed the hesitation at all.

“My ex-wife must have thought so,” was all he said.

“Was she a good wife?” She probably shouldn’t have asked that, but Lilah’s nature was something she couldn’t fight. She didn’t mean to be nosey, exactly. It was simply that she couldn’t keep herself from trying to help. Whether that help was wanted or not.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“It might help,” she said. “Sometimes telling a stranger your problems makes them easier to solve.”

“There’s nothing to help,” he said, his voice low and sharp as a knife. “It’s over. My marriage ended a couple of years ago.”

Maybe, she thought. But there seemed to be a part of him that hadn’t let go. Though she doubted he’d admit that under threat of torture. And, since she’d been enjoying herself up until this minute, she let the conversation end. No point in starting a fight.

She stumbled over something in the dark and would have pitched face forward into the dirt if he hadn’t caught her.

His hands at her waist, he held on to her while she steadied herself and Lilah tried not to feel the heat from his hands pouring into her body.

This was ridiculous. She was twenty-six years old. The last living virgin in California. She had a pretend fiancé and absolutely no business being swept away by a good-looking Marine with a bad attitude and a glorious smile.

And yet…

She stared up at him and the mist enveloping them parted, drifting away on the sea air and leaving them in a patch of moonlight. He hadn’t let her go and Lilah felt every imprint of his fingers, right through her sweater and the shirt she wore beneath it. His pulse beat seemed to hammer into her, accelerating her own heartbeat and twisting her stomach into knots.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, his gaze moving over her face as if seeing her for the first time.

“Terrible,” she agreed.

“We have nothing in common.”

“Absolutely zip.” She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and watched his gaze follow the action. Her stomach pitched again as though she were on some high-flying roller coaster and taking the long dip in a rush of speed.

“You’re only here for a month.”

She nodded. “Maybe less.”

“You’re engaged.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And,” he whispered as he lowered his head toward hers, “if I don’t kiss you right now, I just might lose what’s left of my mind.”

She went up on her toes, rising to meet him. “Can’t have that,” she said on a sigh.

Lilah kept her eyes open and watched him come closer. But when his lips came down on hers, her eyes closed and breath left her body. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have dropped, because her knees gave out the instant his tongue touched hers.

She groaned and leaned into him. His arms came around her like an iron vise, pressing her to him, holding her length along his. His hands swept up and down her back, stroking, caressing.

His mouth tantalized her, his breath dusted across her cheek and she felt the pounding of his heart slamming against her chest. He explored her mouth, tracing the tip of his tongue along her teeth, her cheeks, drawing the last of her breath from her. She gave as good as she got, returning his caresses while she clung to his shoulders in an effort to keep from puddling on the ground at his feet.

Never, she thought wildly, as sensation after sensation coursed through her body. Never had she felt anything like this. It was as if sparklers had been set off inside her. Her blood dazzled and bubbled in her veins as a low down, deep-seated throbbing pulsed to life within her.

He growled. Actually growled. And tightened his hold on her. His kiss deepened until she was sure he was trying to devour her and Lilah was so afraid he wouldn’t.

She wanted more. Wanted to feel his hands on her. Wanted to slide, skin to skin and relish the experience of having Kevin Rogan be the man to finally broach her body’s last defenses.

She felt as though she’d been waiting all her life for this one moment. Here in the moonlight, with the patchy fog drifting like gossamer threads around them, she’d found the skyrockets that all the romance novels she’d ever read had promised.

The question was, what was she going to do about it?