Читать книгу The Taste of Romance Collection - Maureen Child - Страница 28

CHAPTER FOUR

“THIS FEELS WEIRD,” Jamie said as they walked through the door of the bar.

Brett couldn’t have agreed more. He felt like they were on a date, the two of them heading out for the evening, and it didn’t help that he was thinking things he wished he wasn’t about Jamie. The music was loud but not overpowering, and because it was still early it wasn’t completely packed with people yet.

He looked around for Logan, desperate to see him. Once they found him, he could go get some drinks, leave the pair of them to catch up and deal with getting his head in the right space. It was bad enough that he’d spent the day before with Jamie, but seeing her again tonight was too much, too soon.

“There he is.”

Jamie was leaning into him, talking into his ear over the noise and the music. He looked where she was pointing, groaning as she took hold of his hand. He got it; she was probably nervous about being out on the town without her husband, was reaching to him for support. But the way he was feeling right now, he didn’t need her hand thrust into his, fingers interlaced as she walked slightly ahead of him toward Logan.

When they reached him Brett pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair instead. He needed to get it together, and fast. Logan would notice straight away if anything was going on, and he didn’t want to be interrogated by anyone—especially not his best mate. Logan would be the first person to call him to task if he knew even the half of what he’d been thinking.

“Hey, Jamie.” Logan jumped off the bar stool and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big hug.

When he let go, Brett stepped forward and greeted him, grabbing hold of one of his hands and slapping him on the back at the same time. They hadn’t seen each other in months.

“How are you, stranger?”

Brett shrugged. “Better now I’ve seen you.”

They stared at one another, so much unsaid, but it only lasted a moment. Logan knew what had happened, would be the only person in Brett’s life who would ever come close to understanding what he’d experienced, although even he couldn’t imagine how disturbing it had been, how violent. They hadn’t seen each other in a long while, had a lot of catching up to do.

Brett shook off his thoughts. “What are we drinking? My shout.”

“Start with a beer or straight to bourbon?” Logan asked.

Jamie laughed, and Brett angled his body to better include her. He’d been so wound up in seeing Logan again that he’d almost forgotten about her. Brett touched his palm to her back, moving her forward between them and taking a step back to make room for her.

“I think we’ll start with beer. How about you?”

Jamie smiled. “Um, maybe a cocktail for me.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and Brett laughed. “So maybe we’ll start with bourbon then, if you’re hitting the strong stuff straight away.”

Jamie leaned over the counter to reach for a menu. “It’s been a looong time since I’ve been out. Can’t you tell? The only cocktail I can think of is a Cosmopolitan from Sex and the City, but there must be something else....”

“Long Island iced teas,” Logan announced. “Three of them.”

Jamie pushed her shoulders up, shrugging, an innocent expression on her face. Brett needed to warn her.

“They’re kind of potent,” he said.

Her smile was sweet enough to make him feel dirty for admiring her cleavage when she leaned forward.

“Lucky I have you two to look after me then, huh?” She put an arm around each of them, her smile infectious. “I need a night of just having fun, so order away, boys. I’m in.”

Brett did as he was told and watched her walk off with Logan, looking for a quieter, more comfortable place to sit. They all had a lot to talk about, or maybe they didn’t. Maybe tonight was about letting Jamie have fun without feeling guilty, just being there for her and making sure she had a good time and got home safely at the end of the evening.

He just had to remind himself that he would have plenty to be guilty about if he ever let himself give in to the way he was feeling about her. Brett paid for the drinks and stuffed his wallet back in his pocket, before carrying their drinks to the table. He could see Jamie leaning toward Logan, talking, touching his shoulder as they discussed something that had her smiling. Logan was rock-solid, the perfect guy to be spending time with Jamie, because he would honor his word and never do anything that would jeopardize their friendship or the one he’d had with Sam. Trouble was, it wasn’t Logan who was spending time with Jamie, because he was still working.

“Drink up,” he announced, placing the tall glasses on the table and sitting down beside Jamie.

The way she looked at him took him by surprise, made him hope that Logan hadn’t noticed it, but maybe he was just being oversensitive.

“To Sam,” Logan said, holding up his drink. “A good soldier, a damn good friend and husband to the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”

Brett glanced at Jamie, saw her eyes were damp. He held up his own glass. “Cheers to that.”

They all took a sip, but Jamie was spluttering as soon as she’d swallowed her first mouthful.

“Are you guys trying to kill me? This stuff is like poison.”

Brett laughed. “It gets better. Just keep drinking.”

“Has Brett shown you his new tattoo?” Logan asked.

Jamie shook her head, looking at him. “Nope.” She took another sip and grimaced again.

“Brett had his done as soon as he was out of recovery, and I got mine when I touched down in Australia.”

“You have new matching ones?” she asked. “Can I see?”

Logan pushed his T-shirt up, rolling his arm around to show the words marked in black ink, curling letters over four short rows.

“‘Fight a battle for a cause that’s worth the victory. Fight a war that’s worth dying for. Remain brave in death. Honor those you love.’” Jamie stared at Logan’s arm as she finished reading the words.

Brett knew she was fighting emotion, because her voice had become low and husky, a deeper tone than he’d ever heard from her. He responded by rolling up his shirt until he could show her his matching ink, only just able to push the fabric high enough for her to see it.

Jamie turned to inspect his properly, trailing her fingers across each word as if she were writing them, committing them to memory. Her touch was light, and when her hand dropped to land on his thigh, it almost made him lose the drink he’d just reached for.

“You did these for Sam, didn’t you?” she asked.

Brett nodded when she looked at him, and Logan did the same.

“Well, they’re beautiful,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Maybe I should get one, too?”

“No,” Brett said, faster than he’d meant to.

“I don’t think so,” Logan chimed in, almost as quickly.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. “Because I’m a girl? They’re not exactly military tattoos, are they?”

Brett looked to Logan for help but didn’t receive any. He cleared his throat, not wanting to dig himself a hole that he couldn’t claw his way out of, but not having any intention of letting her ink herself.

“Your skin is beautiful and you don’t need any ink, Jamie. Don’t go rushing into anything.”

“Just keep wearing that tag,” Logan added. “It’s what he would have wanted.”

She laughed and took a hearty sip of her drink, before slowly downing the rest of it.

“Bottoms up, boys,” she announced, grinning at them over the top of her glass.

Brett and Logan exchanged looks before shrugging and following her lead.

“My round this time. Another?” Jamie asked.

They both said yes and watched her walk away, like two bodyguards ready to pounce on anyone who so much as bumped into her.

“‘Your skin is so beautiful’?” Logan mimicked, punching him in the arm. “Seriously, couldn’t you have come up with anything better than that?”

Brett glared at him. “It wasn’t like you were stepping in to help me out.”

“Yeah, I was too busy watching you swooning over her. You know she’s out of bounds, right? Because I’ll...”

Brett gave him a playful shove, trying to laugh the comment off. “You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

“I miss him, Brett. I seriously miss him.”

Brett leaned back in his seat, watching Jamie at the bar as she leaned toward the bartender to place her order. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the dog tag she was wearing around her neck, but then he’d been trying his hardest not to look at her chest, and the way the tag was being swallowed by her breasts... Brett cleared his throat. That wasn’t something he needed to think about right now. Sam had been like his surrogate brother, and he would never disrespect anyone he considered family.

“I can’t stop thinking about that day. It’s screwed up, Logan. The things I saw, what happened, I just wish I could forget it all, for good.”

Brett shut his eyes, blocked the memories out, doing what he always did. Because forcing them away was a damn sight easier than dealing with them, and he didn’t want to go there, not now.

“I’m going to go help her carry the drinks back,” he announced, needing to move.

Before Logan guessed that he also couldn’t stop thinking about Jamie, in all the wrong ways.

* * *

Jamie leaned back into Brett, eyes shut, the room starting to spin. She’d had three cocktails, but she wasn’t exactly used to drinking and it felt like three too many.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Brett’s arm was suddenly looped around her shoulders, holding her closer to his body. She opened her eyes to look at Logan, but he was starting to blur.

“I think someone needs something to eat,” Logan said.

“And water,” she mumbled.

Logan jumped up and gave her what she guessed was a salute. “Glass of water and greasy fries coming up.”

She tucked back tighter into Brett, starting to feel sleepy.

“Thanks for looking after me.”

His chuckle made his chest vibrate beneath her ear.

“They were pretty potent,” he told her, his hold on her shoulders loosening as he bent forward to retrieve his drink. “We shouldn’t have let you have more than two.”

Jamie groaned. “You’re going to take me home, right?” She didn’t want to have to flag a taxi on her own in the dark, not to mention go home to an empty house. Most nights, she tried to remind herself why she was okay alone, but tonight her brain just wasn’t cooperating.

“We weren’t exactly going to get you drunk then let you find your own way home.”

Jamie shut her eyes again, wishing she had only had two drinks. They’d been having so much fun, and she hadn’t been out in so long.

“Brett, can you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

Jamie thought she felt his body stiffen, but maybe she was imagining it.

“Ah, I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll see you home, though.”

Jamie shook her head and turned, hand on Brett’s shoulder as she stared up at him. “Please? I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He looked down at her and she couldn’t read his face. Having her eyes shut and sitting still for a few minutes had made the spinning stop, but she was still feeling less than average.

“If you still want me to stay when we get to your place, then I will,” he finally said. “Just don’t go saying anything to Logan because he’ll go off and get the wrong idea and I don’t need him getting all crazy protective over you.”

She smiled up at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. It was warm and slightly stubbled, but where she kissed him was soft enough to make her want to keep her lips there. Jamie had only meant it as an innocent thank-you, but she could have easily moved slightly to the left, kissed his lips instead. She was staring at them, eyes unable to leave his mouth, even as his hand came up between them and gently pushed her back into her seat.

“Let’s not do anything we’d regret sober, okay?”

Brett’s voice was soft, but the hungry eyes staring back at her were telling a different story entirely.

“Who’s hungry?”

Logan had returned with the bar food, which looked perfect and greasy.

“Me, please,” she responded, her thigh pressed to Brett’s as she leaned forward. She was telling herself she needed it there to anchor her in place, keep her steady, but she knew better.

She was drunk and coming on to her husband’s friend. It was a hundred shades of wrong, but it felt every shade of right. Jamie reached for a fry and dunked it in ketchup, closing her eyes with delight at the salty, greasy taste.

“These are sooo good,” she murmured.

Logan laughed. “Drunk as a skunk.”

She didn’t care what they said. Tonight had been better than good, it had been amazing. For the first time in forever, she felt like herself again, and it had been a long time coming.

Because for a while there, she’d wondered if she’d lost that Jamie forever.

* * *

Jamie held on to Brett’s arm as she stepped out of the taxi, and she didn’t let it go as they walked to her front door. He hadn’t said anything about staying or not staying, and even though she’d sobered up a heap, she still didn’t want to be alone. Nights like tonight brought everything crashing back to her, even though it had been over a decade ago.

It had been pitch-black outside, and she’d been tucked under a blanket, alone, waiting for her mom to come home. She knew she’d be drunk, but she wanted to wait for her to come back. When the door had opened, she’d stayed still, not made a sound, knowing her mom would just make her way upstairs and collapse on her bed.

Only it hadn’t been her mom. She’d hidden, terrified, as two men in balaclavas had burgled their house, never making a noise so they wouldn’t know anyone was home. Tears had choked in her throat, but she’d stayed silent, wishing that her dad had made it back. Knowing that if he’d been alive, her mom would still be holding it together, that she would have been safe.

“So here we are,” Brett said when they reached the door, jolting her from her thoughts.

She fumbled in her bag for her keys and called out to Bear as his loud bark boomed through the door. Letting her memories take hold was not something she usually let happen, not that easily.

“Just me,” she told her dog, “it’s only me.”

His barking stopped and she turned the key. Brett leaned past her and pushed the door, standing his ground as she dropped to give the dog a cuddle and then usher him back inside.

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” he asked, looking uncomfortable, hands jammed in his pockets.

Jamie wasn’t going to lie to him, especially not now. “I’ve never been okay on my own,” she admitted. “Every time Sam went away, I’d pretend to be all brave because I didn’t want him worrying about me, but when he was on tour I hardly ever went out unless I could be back before dark. I was just too nervous coming home to an empty house.”

His expression changed, his face sad. “Is it better with Bear here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“You still want me to stay tonight, don’t you?”

Jamie nodded again. Relief took away the tightness in her shoulders as she realized she was actually going to have someone in the house. That Brett, one of the people she trusted most in the world, was going to be sleeping under her roof, protecting her, letting her have a good night’s sleep without her worrying about every creak or rustle outside the window. Without her thinking someone might find their way into her home.

Brett smiled when she stepped back, and he walked into the house and locked the door behind him.

“I’ll just bunk on the sofa,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

“I can make up the spare bed,” she told him, flicking on a light and fumbling in the pantry for coffee. “I don’t want you being uncomfortable.”

“Hey,” Brett said, coming up behind her and taking the coffee. “You go sit down, I’ll make us both a cup. I’m sure your head could do without all the movement, might help the pounding stop.”

His hand over hers made her freeze, and she resisted the urge to push back into him, to rock her body back into his like she was so desperate to do. She craved his touch like a desperate woman who’d never had the pleasure of a man before.

“Go sit on the sofa,” he ordered, voice low.

Jamie reluctantly did as she was told, listening to Brett as he moved around the kitchen. She flopped onto the big sofa, tucked up against a cushion, eyes back on him as he stirred two cups and then carried them over. He placed them down and went to sit on the armchair.

“It’s way more comfy over here,” she told him.

He hesitated before coming over to sit beside her. Jamie tucked her feet up and changed position, her body against Brett’s instead of the oversized cushion. Now she had an oversized, warm, muscled man to lean into.

“Thanks for tonight,” she told him.

“My pleasure,” he responded, staying still but looking down at her.

Jamie knew she was still a little drunk, that she needed to just sleep it off and not do anything stupid, but ever since she’d kissed Brett at the bar, on the cheek, she’d thought of nothing other than his lips; his full, kissable lips.

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached up to touch his face, tracing her fingers over his mouth before leaning on him and putting her lips there. It was a sweet kiss, a warm kiss, a kiss that made her skin tingle. And it wasn’t easy to pull back from. Brett didn’t resist, didn’t push her away, but he didn’t move closer, either. He just moved his lips enough for her to know that he was kissing her back, that he wanted it, too. Or at least that’s what she wanted to think.

He didn’t say anything when she pulled away, and neither did she. Brett reached for a cushion, put it at the end of the sofa and leaned back into it, letting her fall down against him. She put her head against his chest, tucked up beside him, like a cat purring into his hold as he put his arm around her.

She should have gone and found a blanket to keep them warm, but she didn’t want to move and Brett was warm and snuggly even without anything covering them. Instead she shut her eyes and let sleep catch her and wrap her in its equally warm embrace. She couldn’t have fought it if she tried, and Jamie had a feeling that for once she might actually sleep through the entire night without waking, terrified, like she usually did.

* * *

Brett stared down at Jamie. She was asleep, he could hear the change in her breathing, but it didn’t make him even close to being sleepy himself.

Jamie, Sam’s wife, had just kissed him. And he’d done nothing to stop it and everything to encourage it.

Granted, he’d had a lot to drink, but not enough to make him drunk or to make him forget that she was forbidden. Even Logan had reminded him, just in case he’d managed to forget himself, that she was the one woman he wasn’t supposed to think about, like that. And yet she’d come on to him and he’d willingly accepted her advances.

But then he’d known he was a goner tonight from the moment she’d traced her fingers down his inner arm, along the words of his tattoo, and he’d known he was incapable of doing the right thing when she’d kissed his cheek in the bar. The heat of her breath against his skin, her warm lips, the look in her eyes...like she wanted him, trusted him and needed him, all rolled into one stare. Into one gentle touch that he found one hundred percent irresistible.

Brett groaned, but there was no getting away from her, not now that she was clutching his shirt between her fingers and her head was tucked against his chest like it was her own personal pillow to snuggle up into.

The light in the kitchen was still on, but unless he could teach the dog how to turn it off, he was just going to have to shut his eyes and do his best to ignore it.

He caught sight of Bear watching him, head between his paws, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Brett told him, scowling.

He didn’t need a damn dog to make him feel even more guilty than he already felt.

“And don’t you be forgetting that I saved your life,” he muttered, before shutting his eyes.

The truth was that Bear had saved all of them that day. He’d stopped after Sam had sent him out, body dead-still, tail quivering, head cocked to the side. It had been Bear who’d alerted them to the bomb—only trouble was that it wasn’t a standard improvised explosive device. This IED had been remote-detonated, most likely from a local hiding where they hadn’t been able to find him. Someone watching, in wait, to explode an entire 4x4 full of SAS soldiers, wanting to blow them all into pieces.

Sam and Brett’s dog had been the casualties that day, so maybe he should be showing Bear some respect and thanking him for saving his life.

He shut his eyes, knowing sleep wouldn’t come easily, because it never did these days. If he managed to fall asleep, he’d wake up in a sweat and twisted in his sheets, mind full of the darkness of that day he was trying so hard to forget. And then he’d lie awake, scared of shutting his eyes again because of the memories that flashed like scenes from a movie beneath his eyelids.