Married to a Marine Page 3

  So was hers. “What’s wrong, is my vocabulary too big for you?”

  “I’ll try and keep up.”

  “I hope it isn’t too much of a strain for you.”

  “I think I can handle it.” And you. The look he gave her made that much clear.

  She’d forgotten how blue his eyes were. It was like being bathed in the deep ocean, his gaze washing over her.

  “We’ll have to see,” she replied, backing away from him…and temptation.

  “Want me to deal?”

  “No, I’ll deal. I feel it only fair to warn you that when I play cards with my nursing buddies, I often end up winning.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots.”

  Actually he was barefoot. He had nicely formed feet leading up to muscular calves and thighs. Don’t go there, she sternly warned herself, tearing her gaze away.

  “I feel it only fair to warn you that when I play cards with my Force Recon buddies, I always win,” Justice said.

  “Then we’ve both been warned.” She sat down at the table where they’d recently eaten and waited patiently for Justice to join her before adding, “May the best woman win.”

  Kelly didn’t feel one iota of guilt for not informing him of the summer she spent working at an Atlantic City casino and learning card tricks from a seventy-year-old gentleman gambler named Diamond Mick. She deliberately dealt the cards a tad awkwardly, not like a complete novice but not like one confident of winning. She didn’t want to overplay her hand here. Let Justice think she was a bit nervous.

  The truth was she never cheated when playing gin rummy with her nursing buddies. But poker was another thing. She rarely got the chance to practice what Diamond Mick had taught her, other than practicing in front of a mirror to make sure she hadn’t lost her touch.

  They only played one hand. As it turned out she didn’t have to cheat, she was dealt a fantastic set.

  The problem was that Justice looked equally thrilled with whatever he had. What if he cheated?

  She’d have to count on a Marine’s code of honor preventing him from doing that. Maybe his confidence was his way of trying to bluff her into folding. That wasn’t going to happen.

  She called his bet. Justice set down his cards, spreading them out with a confident grin. “Read ’em and weep. Four of a kind.”

  “Very impressive. But I believe a straight flush beats four of a kind every time.” And she set down her own cards.

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “I didn’t cheat.”

  “I know you didn’t, I was watching you like a hawk.”

  Kelly was relieved that she hadn’t had to practice her card trick skills after all. She’d forgotten that as a Force Recon Marine, Justice had unusually acute powers of observation.

  “So we’re agreed. I stay on as your physical therapist. Good.” Kelly didn’t even wait for him to reply. “That’s all settled, then. Well, it’s getting late and I’ve had a full day. I think I’ll turn in.”

  “Go right ahead.” His look dared her to get ready for bed in front of him.

  She had no such qualms. Once her sleeping bag was comfortably arranged on the couch, she tugged on a huge sleepshirt over her head and upper torso. Under cover of the thick cotton material she expertly wiggled and maneuvered her T-shirt and bra right off, tugging them out the armhole and into her backpack in one deft operation.

  Justice appeared stunned by her behavior. Good. She liked to keep him on his toes. She was not about to retreat into the bathroom to get ready for bed like some shy miss. She could adopt as much of a don’t-mess-with-me stance as any Marine. It was all about attitude with a capital A.

  “Where’d you learn to do that?” Justice asked.

  “My co-ed college dorm. Were you suitably impressed?”

  “Were you trying to impress me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good.” His voice was curt. “Because I don’t need you going all goofy over me like you did as a teenager.”

  Kelly wanted to disappear into the floorboards. She hadn’t realized he’d noticed her crush. He’d never said anything at the time. Probably because he’d been too nice. He wasn’t nice any longer. That much was clear.

  She couldn’t let him know he’d bothered her. Tucking her “sensible” facade around her once more, she managed a brilliant smile. “Jeez, Justice, that was ages ago. Get over yourself, would you? The bottom line is that you can relax because overbearing Marines aren’t my type,” she assured him. “I promise not to go all goofy over you. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

  The question was, would she be safe with him?

  Chapter Three

  The kiss was divine. A warm masculine mouth tenderly parted her lips. Hands slipped over her willing body, caressing her with skill and passion. The moment had come. The waiting was over. This was it…

  “Rise and shine!” a voice boomed over Kelly’s head.

  Startled, she jerked awake and almost ended up rolling right off the couch in her sleeping bag.

  “Hold on there.” Justice grabbed her with his good hand.

  She’d been dreaming. Blinking rapidly, Kelly tried to take stock of her surroundings. But her immediate attention was focused on Justice.

  He’d caught her, preventing her fall with his body. He was so close to her she could feel the warmth of his lean body, could almost hear his heartbeat. She could certainly feel her own heart beating wildly.

  She could also feel every one of his fingers. He wasn’t holding her that tightly. She was just super-sensitized to his touch, deliciously rough against her soft skin. He had calluses. He smelled of soap and shaving cream. She was wildly tempted to sniff his cheek, to lean closer and fall into his incredibly blue eyes….

  “Hey,” he said gruffly, “I thought you promised that you weren’t going to throw yourself at my feet.”

  A bucket of cold water couldn’t have snapped her out of her momentary reverie faster. “I’d like to throw something, all right,” she muttered, shifting away from him on the couch. “And not at your feet. At your head. What time is it?”

  “O-five hundred.”

  “Five in the morning?” She hadn’t gotten to sleep until after one, tossing and turning on the couch. And that dream she was having was just getting really good. Not that she’d been dreaming about Justice. She hadn’t. She was sure that the man in her dreams bore a striking resemblance to the sexy actor Dylan McDermott. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

  “Affirmative. Time to rise and shine and get this physical therapy thing going,” Justice stated. “The faster we get started, the faster we’ll be done, and then you can go your way and I can return to my tour of duty.”

  “First I need to see your medical records.”

  “I’ve got them here.” Using his left hand, he waved them in front of her sleepy face. “Had them faxed from the mainland.”

  “Fine. I’ll read them.” She barely stifled a yawn. “But first I need coffee and a shower, in that order.”

  “Go ahead, but be fast about it. No dawdling for an hour in the bathroom trying to make yourself beautiful.”

  “I could stay in the bathroom for a week and I still wouldn’t be beautiful,” she wryly retorted. “I told you, I’m not my sister.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  “Oh, so you are capable of learning? That’s an encouraging sign.”

  “You sure are a feisty little thing, aren’t you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh puhlease! For one thing, I’m not little. I’m five foot seven in my bare feet. For another I’m not feisty.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Yes, but then you’re a Marine, easy to fool.”

  “You’re just saying that to get to me,” Justice calmly replied. “See? I am learning.”

  “Yes, you are. And you’re blocking my way to my morning caffeine so move, or face my wrath.”

  “Wrath, huh? Is that anything like trifling with a troun
cing?”

  “No, it’s much worse. Now move.”

  “Not a morning person, are we?” At her fiery look, he backed up. “Okay, okay, I’m moving.”

  Still bleary-eyed, she headed for the kitchen and the thermos of coffee she’d left there last night. Cold coffee was better than no coffee. It was actually still a little warm, and she felt the caffeine hit her system as she grabbed clean clothes from her backpack on her way to the bathroom.

  A shower helped restore her. She dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair was still damp as she returned to the kitchen to confront Justice.

  Only now did she notice the shirt he was wearing, which was one of those brilliant multicolored Hawaiian designs. How could she have missed that before? “Nice shirt,” she noted.

  “It’s not mine,” he growled. “My buddy Striker owns this beach house and a collection of gaudy Hawaiian shirts.”

  Judging from Justice’s disgusted expression, she figured he hadn’t chosen to borrow his friend’s clothes out of a desire to make a fashion statement. No doubt his injury made getting in and out of a button-down shirt easier than a T-shirt like he’d been wearing last night. And no doubt Justice hadn’t brought any shirts of his own, or he’d be wearing them and not this tropical number. He hadn’t done up all the buttons, leaving a sexy amount of his chest bare.

  Time to change the subject, she decided. “So what’s for breakfast?”

  “Toasted physical therapists,” he drawled.

  Kelly cracked up. “I don’t believe it. The brooding Justice Wilder actually made a joke. This has got to be a first.”

  “Who said it was a joke?”

  “I’m tougher than I look. You don’t want to dine on me, believe me.” She opened the fridge and pulled out the fresh eggs in the box of provisions she’d brought with her yesterday. “How do scrambled eggs sound?”

  His growling stomach was answer enough. Hers quickly followed suit. “Okay.” She reached for a frying pan. “A big rasher of scrambled eggs coming right up.”

  Justice surreptitiously watched her as she moved around the kitchen with a speedy efficiency. She was into multitasking—beating the eggs with a fork in one hand while she popped pieces of bread into the toaster with the other. She seemed to have recovered from her earlier grouchiness.

  Today she was wearing a pair of khaki walking shorts and a plain pink T-shirt. The sandals she wore displayed her feet and the neon pink nail polish on her toenails. Her question mark earrings once again dangled in her ears. Her damp hair was gathered up in one of those plastic clip things to keep it out of her way. She didn’t look particularly gorgeous but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

  Maybe it was her can-do attitude, or her off-key humming of a Faith Hill country song. She wasn’t her sister. She hadn’t spent a lot of time in the bathroom messing with makeup. In fact, he doubted she was wearing any. But as she passed by his seat at the small dining table, he noted that she smelled really good. Not all perfumy, but fresh and sexy.

  Sexy? Dismiss that thought. This was his ex-wife’s baby sister here. Okay, so she was only five years younger than Barbie, which also made her five years younger than he was. Not a big deal. Age wasn’t the issue here. Family connections were.

  She was here for one purpose, or so she said. To increase his chances of recovering the full use of his right arm. His shooting arm. He’d been one of the best sharpshooters Force Recon had ever seen. And now he sat here barely able to pick up a damn cup of coffee.

  “What makes you think you can do anything to help me recover the mobility in my arm?” he abruptly demanded.

  “The fact that I’m good at what I do. But I need to review your medical records before I can tell you anything definite, read the doctor’s orders for your treatment.”

  “It’s all right here.” He impatiently shoved the file across the table, wanting those incriminating papers away from him. He already knew what they said by heart. Prognosis: unknown. Critical ligament damage…full recovery of mobility unlikely.

  Well, Justice had dealt with “unlikely” and “unknown” before. More times than he could count, in fact. It had been unlikely that he would survive that last mission in a certain Middle Eastern country rumored to harbor terrorists.

  But he had survived. Only to come back to the States to get injured.

  “I forgot to ask you last night, how does it feel to be hailed a hero for rescuing that little boy from that burning car?” She placed a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs in front of him.

  “It stinks.”

  “Hey, I’m not that bad a cook,” she protested. “So I overcooked the eggs a little.”

  “I meant that stupid hero thing. It’s not true.”

  “It’s not true that you rescued a toddler from the back seat of a burning car after you witnessed a car accident near Camp Lejeune?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Justice growled.

  “Fine.” She shrugged and sat down across from him, digging into her own breakfast. “We can discuss something else. Like how much you love my gourmet cooking.”

  “The eggs are good,” he grudgingly admitted.

  “Oh, my! I do declare that such flowery praise will surely go to my head.” She dramatically placed the back of her hand across her forehead in the manner of a swooning Southern miss.

  Instead of acknowledging her mocking comment, he said, “How long will it take you to review my medical records?”

  “Not long. I’m a fast reader.”

  “Good. Because I want to get started on this op as soon as possible.”

  “Op?”

  “This operation, this mission.”

  “I see. So you’re considering your recovery as you would any mission assigned to you? That’s a good thing, I suppose.”

  “A Marine never fails.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  “If you’re referring to my failed marriage to your sister—”

  “I wasn’t,” she quickly interrupted him. “I meant that no one can guarantee a 100 percent success rate at anything.”

  “No excuses, no exceptions.”

  “Seems like a pretty tough philosophy to maintain.”

  “The Marine Corps is supposed to be tough. It’s not a place for wimps.”

  “Yeah, physical therapy is like that. Not a place for wimps. Oh, I almost forgot…” She returned to the counter to hand him the special concoction she’d mixed up in the blender. It did not escape his notice that she’d only poured one glass, not two. One glass, just for him. “Here, drink this.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “What did you put in here?”

  Startled, she tried to pull away.

  “Answer me. What did you put in here?”

  “Wheat germ, a banana, some strawberries, orange juice, a little vitamin B.”

  “And what else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  “Do you swear on my mother’s life?”

  His expression made her shiver. “Yes.”

  He abruptly released her wrist.

  “Why?” Her voice was husky with emotion. “What did you think I’d put in there?”

  “My pain medication.”

  She stared at him in amazement. “You thought I was trying to drug you against your will?”

  “That thought did cross my mind, yes.”

  “You clearly have a suspicious mind.”

  “It’s kept me alive more times than I can count.”

  “We’re not in a battle zone here.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s an ingrained part of my training, thinking of scenarios and outcomes, thinking of everything as a weapon, even this fork.” He used the utensil to eat the last bite of scrambled eggs. “You call it being suspicious, I call it being alert, never letting down my defenses.”

  She realized then how deep his distrust truly ran—not just of her but of everyone and everything around him.

  “If I gave you my word that
I won’t drug you, that it’s completely unethical for me to do so, would that make you feel better? If I swore on your mother’s life, as you put it, would that make you feel better?”

  “The only thing that will make me feel better is regaining complete mobility of my arm and rejoining my squadron. Anything less than that is unacceptable.”

  Kelly had worked with patients before who’d been unable to accept their injuries and the limitations that had subsequently been placed on them. Inevitably it made their recoveries slower. But there was no speeding up the acceptance process. Each individual had to get there at their own rate, in their own time, in their own way. She had a feeling that Justice’s way would be the hard way. He wasn’t a man to take the easy route.

  She didn’t even realize that she was absently rubbing her wrist until he spoke.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t trust me,” she replied. “That’s bound to make this process more difficult.”

  “I told you, I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Not even your own family?”

  “Of course I trust them.”

  “Then trust that your mother knew what she was doing when she sent me to you.”

  “I trust her, not her judgment about everything.”

  “Oh, so you think I conned your mother into sending me here?” Kelly asked mockingly. “Sure, I can understand that. After all, she’s such a gullible lady. Very naive. Easy to fool. Nothing to pull the wool over her eyes. An easy mark. A real bubblehead.”

  “Hey, nobody calls my mom a bubblehead,” Justice growled.

  “My point exactly. She’s one of the sharpest women I’ve ever met.”

  “Okay, okay, so my mother is not easily fooled. Point taken.”

  “I hope so. I’d rather not have this conversation every time I offer you a drink. Think of all the energy you’re expending on that distrust.”

  “It’s not wasted energy.”

  “Yes, it is. That mind-set may be useful during one of your covert special ops, as you called them, but you don’t need that kind of defense mechanism in this situation. You’re safe here.”

  Didn’t she understand that he wasn’t safe anywhere? He’d let down his guard when he’d rushed in to save that toddler, and look where it had gotten him. If he’d been more alert, he might have fallen differently. He’d been trained to drop and roll and had avoided injury so many times in the past. It was one of the reasons he’d gotten his nickname.