The Marine and Me Page 4

  “No. I’m a captain in the Marine Corps. But getting back to your car, you can check with my grandmother if you need a reference.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll have it repaired by a mechanic.”

  “It’ll cost you. I could get it done in no time and you’d only be out the price of the battery itself.”

  She hesitated.

  Steve continued, “You’ll pay three times more if you have your car towed to a repair place and have them install it.”

  “What would you want in return?” She’d learned the hard way that there were always strings attached to offers of help.

  “Hey, it would be great if you’d agree to my plan regarding my grandmother, but I really don’t want anything in return.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Okay, feed me. That would work.”

  “I’m not as good a cook as your grandmother.”

  “Few people are.”

  “But I do make a mean grilled-cheese sandwich.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  Chloe wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somehow he’d managed to insert his way into her day. In no time at all he’d gone to an auto-parts store and returned with the battery.

  Chloe sat on the middle step of her back porch and watched Steve work. She had a scarf to complete by Monday for a raffle at the library to support literacy.

  But her knitting sat in a pile on her lap as her attention strayed from knit one, purl two, to the sight of Steve’s denim-clad backside as he bent over her car.

  One of the library’s regular patrons, Mrs. Denallio, had a T-shirt that she’d picked up on a trip to Las Vegas. Girls Go Nuts for Cowboy Butts.

  Chloe was no expert on cowboys, but this Marine certainly had a very nice…backside.

  She felt naughty for even thinking such a thing. What was wrong with her? She’d certainly never ogled Brad’s posterior. Yet here she was, unable to look away from Steve. His jeans fit him to perfection.

  She could tell he kept his wallet in his right back pocket. The denim there was lighter. Not that his wallet was thick or bulging.

  Bulging…oh jeez. Now her thoughts turned really naughty.

  She blushed. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t an adolescent making cow-eyes at some guy in study hall.

  “Hand me that wrench, would you?”

  The sound of Steve’s deep voice made her jump guiltily, her knitting needles tumbling off her lap onto the steps with a clatter.

  “Sure.” Her own voice sounded as squeaky as a mouse. She came closer and looked at the metal tool-box open on the ground. Finding what she needed, she handed him the wrench he’d requested.

  He didn’t look up as he held out his free hand for her to give him the tool. Her fingers brushed his as she transferred the metal object from her grasp to his. A startling hum of awareness traveled up her arm at the simple touch. Not a good sign.

  She gathered her tattered self-control. “How’s it going?” Translation—how long are you going to be draped over my car looking like an Adonis and making me drool like an idiot?

  “No problems.”

  Easy for him to say. She had plenty of problems, not the least of which was her reaction to him. You’d think that her experience with Brad would have short-circuited any possible response to a great-looking man, but no. Not in this case.

  She tried looking over his shoulder, as if she knew what he was doing.

  “There, that should do it.” Steve stood so quickly he almost knocked her off her feet.

  “Oops. Sorry about that.” He caught her, his hands gripping her arms with strength and seduction. The seduction part came from the soothing brush of his thumbs over her bare skin. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

  Right. That’s the way she’d wanted it. To be invisible. That was in her comfort zone. This wasn’t.

  She stepped away and slid her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll go make our sandwiches then. You can clean up in the bathroom. It’s down the hall,” she added as he followed her into the house.

  “Yeah, I know. This floor plan is like my grandmother’s.” But where his grandmother had her knick-knacks all over the place, Chloe only had a few things. She did have lots of books, though. They were on every shelf, every tabletop. Even so, they didn’t make the place look messy.

  As he washed up, Steve considered his reaction to Chloe. A knitting librarian who read for fun. She needed someone to show her how to have a good time. Not sexually, he wasn’t the kind of guy to seduce a woman and leave. He was only in town for a few weeks, after all.

  It seemed so simple to him. Neither he nor Chloe were looking for any kind of romantic entanglements in their lives. So it made sense for them to join forces.

  Now he just had to convince her of that. But the moment he walked into the kitchen, he could tell by her defensive posture that she was ready for him to pitch his plan. Well-versed in tactical maneuvers, Steve decided to do the unexpected, and not bring up his plan.

  Instead he made simple conversation, telling her about his drive on his Harley from California, where he was based at Camp Pendleton, to Chicago. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. She asked intelligent questions and was a good listener. She also laughed in all the right places, which pleased him no end.

  She really did have the most expressive face. Even though her black-framed glasses occasionally shielded her eyes, the emotions still shone through. So did their sparkling blue color.

  She wasn’t frumpy. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous either. She was somewhere in between. And she wasn’t obvious. There was real depth here. Not all surface flash.

  And she could cook. The grilled-cheese sandwich was as good as she’d promised. He ate two. She’d also added big bowls of tomato soup, complete with those little fancy crackers floating in it.

  He could see her relaxing as time went on, making him think this would be a good time to reintroduce his plan into the conversation.

  “You see, I’m not so bad, right? So maybe now the idea of our joining forces doesn’t seem such a bad one.”

  “I still think being up-front with your grandmother is the best way.”

  He could see her getting all prickly again, so he didn’t push it. She had a stubborn streak, and the more he pushed her, the more likely it was that she’d just dig in her heels.

  So he changed the subject again, and proved he knew his way around a kitchen by clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.

  “You cooked, it’s only fair that I clean up.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Thank you. Thank you also for fixing my car. I appreciate it.” Her voice was very polite. “But it doesn’t mean I think your idea of us joining forces is a good one,” she felt compelled to warn him.

  “I just haven’t convinced you yet. I will.”

  Steve was gone before Chloe could contradict his outrageous claim.

  His self-confidence really was amazing. Well maybe not, given how good-looking he was.

  And, in addition to that, he was a Marine. They were hardly known to be shrinking violets.

  Chloe wondered what it would be like to be so sure of yourself. She had no idea. She’d never felt that way.

  Or maybe she had before her parents had died. If so, she had no memory of it.

  She’d learned to be self-reliant, but it wasn’t really the same as self-confident. Not by a long shot.

  The bottom line here was that for some reason, Steve brought out a certain wildness in her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Not sure at all.

  Chloe always did her grocery shopping on Saturday afternoon. Today was no exception. It didn’t matter that her morning had started out with Steve on her front step. It didn’t matter that they’d had lunch together after he’d finished repairing her car. She had a schedule and she stuck to it.

  So it really, really didn’t matter that he’d looked so sexy draped over her car that she couldn’t get that image out of her mind and was even now totally distra
cted by the memory.

  The crash of another cart into hers made her jump. “I’m so sorry,” she automatically said before belatedly realizing who she’d just hit. Or had he rammed his cart into hers? “What are you doing here?”

  Was no place safe from sexy Marines? Not even the produce department in her local supermarket?

  “Me?” Steve reached out for the nearest piece of produce. “I’m just standing here squeezing squash. How about you?”

  “What are you talking about? You don’t squeeze squash.”

  “Sure I do. Look.” He rotated the vegetable in his capable hands.

  “That’s an eggplant you’re holding.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, so I admit I’m no expert when it comes to vegetables.”

  “A meat-and-potato man, are you?”

  “Affirmative. And you’re probably one of those fancy-salad women, right?”

  She wanted to cover up the three bags of salad she’d tossed into her cart. “I’ll leave you to your shopping then.” She took off.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  Oh, no. He was coming after her.

  She needed time to recover. Where to hide?

  Then it hit her. She turned left into aisle fourteen. The one with the feminine hygiene products.

  Sure enough, he didn’t follow her.

  Good.

  Okay then.

  Chloe took a deep breath and practiced some of the meditation techniques a yoga instructor had given at a presentation at the library a few months ago. Close your eyes and think of a happy place.

  She thought of her bungalow. All completed. Everything perfectly done. Everything in place. Everything in order.

  Yessssss. That was calming. She opened her eyes, a new woman.

  A new woman…who turned the corner into the next aisle and bumped into Steve’s cart again.

  “What do you think? Barbecue or vinegar potato chips?” He held up the two bags for her perusal.

  Okay, now she was getting aggravated. “Why are you following me?”

  “Me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you following me? I was here in the snack aisle first.”

  “I’m here to get things for Wanda.”

  “Me, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She gave me a list.”

  “But she gave me a list, too.”

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” His voice went all low and sexy all of a sudden, making her think of rumpled black satin sheets and how he’d look spread out on them.

  How could he have this kind of effect on her in the middle of a brightly lit supermarket? How was that possible? Was she coming down with something? Did she have a fever? Is that why she felt so hot all of a sudden?

  The gleam in his green eyes told her that he knew he’d gotten to her. That immediately stiffened her resolve. “Here.” She waved the list at him. “Where’s yours?”

  “Right here.” He held it out for her inspection.

  Chloe frowned. The lists were the same. “I don’t understand. I called to tell her I was on the way to the store, as I always do, and asked if she needed anything.”

  “Bingo.”

  “What do you mean? She knew I was getting the things she needed. Why did she send you?”

  “To bump into you. She told me I had to hightail it to this grocery store immediately. I did try to warn you that she’d be ruthless about her matchmaking.”

  “I hardly call this ruthless.”

  “Just wait, it’ll get much worse.”

  “Has she done this to you before?”

  “She’s tried to. Normally I’m not around long enough or if I am, I’m able to talk my way out of it.”

  “Then do that now.”

  “I can’t. She’s wise to my moves.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Then come up with new moves.”

  “I don’t want to spend my entire leave trying to dodge her. I’m telling you, it would be much simpler to just make her think she’s succeeded.”

  “Simpler for whom? You maybe. I don’t see the advantage to me.”

  “I have one thing to say to you. Roland Knab. You know who he is?”

  Chloe nodded. “He runs an accounting business out of his home. He lives with his mother across the street from us.”

  “He’s next in line.”

  “In line?” she repeated with a frown.

  “As a candidate to be the man in your life.”

  “He’s got to be fifty and he’s almost bald.”

  “But he has a great personality, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Too bad.”

  “What makes you think your grandmother would try and pair me with Mr. Knab?”

  “Insider intel.”

  Chloe couldn’t help wondering why on earth Wanda would think that Chloe had anything in common with the accountant. Was it because they were both the introverted type? Unless Steve was trying to con her? “Why should I believe you?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Because I’m telling the truth. On my honor as a Marine.” He solemnly placed his right hand over his heart. Of course that just drew her attention to his dark pullover and the breadth of his shoulders.

  “Well, we’ll just see about that.” With those brilliant words, she took off, heading for the checkout line posthaste.

  “Thank you so much for picking up these things for me at the grocery store,” Wanda told her as she ushered Chloe into her kitchen a few minutes later. “Sit. I have some cookies just out of the oven.”

  Chloe wasn’t sure where Steve was. She’d lost him in the crowd at the checkout line. “Umm, is your grandson around?”

  “Not at the moment, no. You like him though, yes?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that one. If she were a bolder person she’d just confront Wanda and ask why she’d sent them both out for the same groceries.

  But Chloe wasn’t into confrontation. That made waves and she’d spent too many years avoiding them.

  So she just made some noncommittal murmur and took a bite of the cookie.

  Wanda didn’t look all that imposing a figure. She was petite but a powerhouse. Her vivid light blue eyes had a way of looking at you and ferreting out your deepest secrets. She was warm, compassionate and caring. But she was also gazing at Chloe with clear expectation of an agreement on Chloe’s part that Steve was the best thing since sliced bread.

  Chloe needed a distraction. “Um, is that a new addition to your turtle collection?” She pointed to the ceramic figure on the kitchen table.

  “Yes, it is. My grandson Striker sent it to me from Texas. It’s a Texas turtle. See the little Stetson on its head?”

  Chloe nodded.

  Wanda had turtles all over the house. Dozens of them filled the shelves of the display cabinet in the living room. Ceramic, glass, silver, it didn’t matter. She collected them all.

  “Have I told you why I like turtles so much?”

  Chloe shook her head, glad for the reprieve from a conversation about Steve.

  “Because it carries its home on its back. If the turtle wants to move, it has to stick its head out. That means it has to take a chance. Otherwise it doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Chloe wasn’t sure if there was a message hidden in there someplace.

  “My parents took a chance and got me out of Poland during World War II. I took a chance and married an American G.I. after the war, having only known him for two weeks. And he brought me to America.” Wanda ran her hand over the ceramic figure. “The turtles remind me of the good that can come from taking chances. And from keeping your home with you, within you, so it goes where you go. All you have to do is stick your head out and look at the possibilities.”

  “By possibilities do you mean going out with your grandson?”

  Wanda’s expression brightened. “He’s very good-looking, yes?”

  “Yes. But honestly, Wanda, I’
m really not looking for any kind of romantic relationship at the moment.”

  “So like the turtle you keep your head tucked in and move no place.” Wanda clucked her tongue and shook her head. “This is not good.” She reached across the table to pat Chloe’s arm with concern.

  “Sure it is.” Chloe put as much reassurance as she could into her smile. “It’s good for me right now. It’s what I need.”

  Wanda didn’t agree. “You need someone to love you. But if you don’t like my grandson, I have someone else in mind for you. Roland from across the street is a turtle like you, not wanting to move. Two turtles might be good for each other.” Wanda paused a moment to consider. “Yes, the more I think of it, the better that could be.”

  Chloe spent the next fifteen minutes trying to convince Wanda to leave well enough alone, that she didn’t need a man in her life. To no avail. She was unable to make one iota of change in Wanda’s thinking.

  Chloe had just made her escape from Wanda’s matchmaking clutches when Steve pulled up in Wanda’s car. He stood there watching her as Chloe joined him.

  “Tell me your plan again.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as desperate as she felt.

  Had his smile held one bit of I-told-you-so, she’d have willingly kicked him. Instead his grin was quick, reflecting pure masculine pleasure. “I’d be happy to. We can discuss it tonight over dinner.”

  Chapter Four

  “Who am I kidding?” Chloe tossed another gray skirt onto the pile already gathered on her bed. “Nothing I wear is going to make a difference. It’s not going to change me into something I’m not.”

  “Okay, that kind of talk is just untrue,” her friend and co-worker Lynn declared, having joined Chloe after an agitated phone call for help. “Clothes are a costume. Look at what you wore to the mystery night. That wasn’t you.”

  “I’m afraid it might be,” Chloe noted glumly. How had her wardrobe gotten so blah? When had that happened?

  Lynn placed a supportive arm around Chloe’s shoulders. “Listen, if you can handle the reference desk at a branch of the Chicago Public Library, you can handle this with one hand tied behind your back.”

  “Maybe I’d look better that way.”

  “You’re making a stand for librarians everywhere. This is a chance to break all those stereotypes of us as mousy bookworms.”