A Few Good Men (13 page)

She reached for her jacket, ignoring as best she could that it wouldn’t cover the legs of her flannel PJs.

Scowling, she remembered him getting mad at her for using his real name just a few short weeks ago. How quickly they forgot. Even Peter’s head could be turned by the promise of fifteen minutes of fame. To be perfectly honest, her own head was practically spinning.

The Sunday paper. A brunch special named after her… Maybe just a few more dates and a few more blog entries, then she’d call it off. What could it hurt?

Peter opened the front door and then spun back. “Crap. Keys.”

She shook her head. “Great. That would be all we needed, to get locked out in our pajamas.”

“Relax. I got them.” Peter grabbed his keys off the hall table and turned to look at her. “So? You never answered me. Are you going to let all of your adoring fans down and have your next blog entry be about a night spent with your old baggy pajamas? Or are you coming with me on what will hopefully be another blog-worthy bad date?”

Maureen didn’t know whether to cringe at the thought of having to sit through yet another horrible date or get excited about more blog material. She let out a sigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

Then the full impact of what Peter had said hit her. She had fans.

Women were just plain hard. Hard to read. Hard to understand. And hard to have feelings for. John was realizing that more with each passing day. He hadn’t remembered feeling like this with his last girlfriend. Then again, that could be for a number of reasons. First of all, his last girlfriend wasn’t dating a different man each week. Second, and the more important point of which he had to keep reminding himself, was that Maureen was not his girlfriend. That meant he had no right to do anything about her dating, but the feelings of jealousy and helplessness were nearly doing him in.

So there he sat in the MWR, a place he’d barely stepped foot in before meeting her, a place he couldn’t get to fast enough now, staring at the screen of the monitor and trying to figure this woman out.

On one hand, she wrote him a beautiful email telling him she felt the same way he did and if he could get to the States she would not only be thrilled to meet him, but he would get his date with her. Then she had wished him a happy Easter and talked more about some parade there in New York.

On the other hand, in the other browser window actually, sat the evidence that since he was not in the States, she had not only gone on a date last night, but actually promised her readers they would not be disappointed. She would definitely be going on another date next week and the week after that.

What did it mean? Was he simply reading too much into her words to him? Was she just a flirt? Love the one you’re with and all that. Would he be just another in a long line of men? No, he couldn’t believe that. She seemed so sweet and sincere otherwise.

Would being with Maureen require the supreme sacrifice—his leaving the service to be with her full-time and keep her from dating other guys?

Damn
. John couldn’t even talk to Jazzy or the other guys since he had kept the whole thing secret from them. He wasn’t willing to take the ribbing he would receive once they learned he had fallen for the pen pal he said he didn’t want in the first place. The same one he’d made fun of Jazzy for having.

The latest email from Maureen was open, the reply window ready for his entry, and yet he had no clue what to say.
Shit
. He closed down the windows, logged off and got out of the chair so another soldier could take his turn. Never email in haste. That was always a good rule to live by. John knew it to be true. He also knew in his heart what he had to do, as much as he didn’t want to do it.

Making his way to his crew’s shared quarters, he held his breath and knocked on the wooden frame.

When Jazzy’s voice called for him to come in, he held his breath, opened the door and breathed with relief when he found him alone.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Bored, antsy and ready to go back to work.” Jazzy held his thumb and forefinger close together. “I am this close to talking the doc into letting me go back on active duty a day early.”

John smiled. “Only you wouldn’t want to just rest and enjoy the time off for one extra day.”

Jazzy shrugged. “Well, I do enjoy parts of it. I’ve been sleeping so much during the day that sometimes I sneak into the MWR in the middle of the night. At times I find it pretty empty, and I can usually catch the wife on the webcam after she puts my son in bed. If I can get on the corner machine and angle the screen toward the wall, I can get a bit of privacy. Mmm, mmm. What she shows me is enough to heal what ails a man.”

John’s ears perked up.

“And how…never mind.” He’d investigate the aspects of talking dirty and webcam sex on instant messenger on his own, after he got this first bit of unpleasantness with Jazzy over with. “I want to talk to you about something.”

His crewman frowned and nodded, looking actually serious, a rarity. “Of course, sir.”

John let out a small laugh. “This isn’t a tank commander talking to his loader. This is me talking to my friend.”

Jazzy raised a brow and nodded again. “Okay.”

“And in that capacity, I’m going to tell you if you tease me or repeat what I’m about to tell you, I’ll wait for you to heal and then beat the crap out of you.”

Grinning again, Jazzy looked intrigued and maybe even a bit smug. “I will only agree to those conditions if I can set one of my own.”

John frowned. “What’s that?”

“That I’m allowed just once to say I told you so.”

“Told me so?”

Jazzy nodded. “Yup. When you admit I was right and you do like having a pen pal and you do like Summer.”

John felt his brow crease and his eyes narrow until the relief that Jazzy already knew took over. He sat heavily on the empty bed across the room and buried his face in his hands. So much for his supposedly unreadable poker face. “How did you know?”

Jazzy laughed. “When I sneak into the MWR against doctor’s orders, I don’t always catch my wife. So I catch up on my emails. Summer wrote and told me you two have been writing to each other pretty regularly. And if I’m not totally off base here, I think she’s trying to get information about you out of me.”

He looked up to see Jazzy’s brow raised as he waited for that info to sink into John’s brain. “What kind of information?”

“Well, I swear she was feeling around to find out if you’re married or have a girlfriend. I didn’t let anything out because I didn’t know how you felt about her. I was going to talk to you about it eventually. She’s a really sweet girl and considering what she does for a living, she’s surprisingly insecure about herself. At least that’s the feeling I get from her. So if you aren’t interested, it might be easier on her to lie and say you’re involved with someone. But if you do like her…” Jazzy left the suggestion hanging in the air.

John took in a sharp breath as this latest concept hit him. She was afraid he was already involved with someone else. Well, he would have to straighten that misconception out immediately. Then maybe these other dates would stop.

“So are you interested?” Jazzy probed, although judging by the look on his smart-ass face, he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear John say it out loud.

John reluctantly gave in. “Yes, I’m interested.”

His friend smiled. “So what do you want me to tell her?”

“Nothing. I can handle that part myself.” But there was still that other sticky part. “What do you make of this dating thing of hers?”

Jazzy grinned wider. “You’re jealous.”

John rose to leave. “Never mind.”

“Hey, now. Wait a minute. I won’t tease. I promise. Sit back down, and I’ll tell you what I think and what I know.”

Scowling, John decided Jazzy’s offer of inside info was too good to pass up simply because of his pride being hurt. He crossed his arms but remained standing. “I’m listening.”

“She’s still going on these dates because it’s been really good for her book sales, and her dating blog is actually getting a ton of hits and comments lately.”

“So that’s it? It’s all just a marketing ploy?”

“Well, no. Not exactly. Not at first anyway. It didn’t start as that. She originally started the dating because she really did want to find a good guy. But she said something else in her last email.” Jazzy smirked and made him wait for it.

Damn, John hated Jazzy having something on him. “What did she say?”

“That she thought she’d already found that guy, and she’d probably stop the dating soon. You wanna know who I think that guy is?”

John looked up at his friend’s self-satisfied face and was almost afraid to say what he was thinking. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Jeez. Do you have to be hit over the head?”

“No.” But how the hell was a guy supposed to know when every time he turned around the woman who interested him was out on a date with another man? He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I’m married. I’m pretty good at reading females. Believe me. If I am wrong about this, you can have a shot at me in the boxing ring as soon as the doc says it’s okay.”

There had been times John had wanted to pummel Jazzy, but this was not one of them. In fact, he was pretty tempted to give him that big, wet kiss Maureen had mentioned in one of her emails.

“Okay.” In the process of heading for the door, John paused and turned back. “And if you tell the other guys, Jazzy, I swear—”

“I know, I know. Don’t you worry. Your secret is safe with me. I won’t say another word about it after these last two… You’re welcome.”

John watched Jazzy beam smugly and couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. “Thank you for twisting my arm into emailing Maureen.”

“Ooo. Maureen, huh? Wow, so that’s her real name and she told it to you? I’m impressed.”

Shit, he’d let that slip out.

“Jazzy…” John’s voice crept low with warning.

“Shutting up now, sir.”

“Good.”

John left the room with a smile on his face. Next stop, the MWR to reply to Maureen. He would set this woman straight about a few things, then enjoy a hopefully tasty, non-gray meal. They were serving Easter dinner in the chow hall, and John was suddenly starving.

Finally, he felt in control again, like he had a plan. It was a good feeling.

Chapter Thirteen

Maureen silently read John’s email and, since it was Monday and she was at work, had to stifle the happy sounds that kept escaping her throat as she reread key sentences.

I know we’ve never discussed this before, but I want you to know I’m not involved with anyone else.

Anyone else
. Did that imply that he considered himself
involved
with her? And exactly
how
involved?

Though I’m not allowed to give you an exact date, my deployment is up very soon. I’m scheduled to go back to Germany with the platoon, but if you want, I could get some time off and come to the States to meet.

If she wanted. She wanted nothing more.

It was crazy but no less real. She wanted to dance around the office, shout at the top of her lungs, at the very least tell someone. Anyone. But there was no one to tell, not even Peter. Not as long as she kept it all a secret.

All she knew was she couldn’t sit still any longer. Getting up from her desk, Maureen decided to wander around the office a bit. The choices for distraction were pretty limited. There was always the coffee room, or she could go to the restroom, then maybe downstairs to the vending machines to get a diet soda. Not exactly equivalent to dancing, but it would serve to get her away from her desk. Then she could sit back down and begin to work on her response to John. She wanted it to be perfect but she wasn’t sure yet what to say.

Maureen opted for the coffee room since that morning someone had brought in bagels and she could use a little snack with her coffee. She stopped short in the doorway when she saw Tiffany already in there, but it was too late. She’d been spotted.

She silently berated herself for not checking if the coast was clear first as she moved to the coffee maker.

“Hello there.” Tiffany grinned while very pointedly going out of her way to reach her left hand in front of Maureen’s face to take a coffee cup.

Maureen leaned her head back to avoid losing the tip of her nose to Tiffany’s manicured talons when a glinting caught her attention. Eyes opened wide, she gazed upon a glittering diamond on the left ring finger of her nemesis. “Oh my God. Is that—?”

“An engagement ring? Why, yes, it is.” Tiffany’s evil smile spread wider.

“What… How… When?” Maureen seemed incapable of forming actual sentences.

“This weekend. My Marine got two weeks of R and R and flew here. We met for the first time Friday night. He proposed Sunday. Not bad, huh?”

Not bad? Jeez. Maureen thought things like this only happened at the chapels in Las Vegas, and that was after massive amounts of alcohol consumption.

“Um, wow.” What exactly could she say? Not what she felt, that she was very happy it was the Marine and not the soldier, who she secretly knew was Jazzy and John’s friend, Morales.