Last Virgin In California (Mills & Boon Desire) (16 page)

Davis just looked at her for a long moment. He’d told himself all the way over here that he wasn’t going to repeat the invitation to lunch. Any woman who interested him this much this quickly was one to stay clear of.

But then he’d seen her again. Stood close enough to catch a whiff of the flowery scent she wore. Looked down into those green eyes and had known that he had to spend more time with her. Risky or not.

Still, he couldn’t help wondering what had changed her mind. A couple of days ago, she wouldn’t go out
to lunch with him. Now she’s inviting him to a cozy dinner at her place?

Marie Santini was one confusing woman, he thought. But as his gaze swept over her again, he told himself it would be interesting trying to figure her out.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”

She inhaled deeply and blew the air out in a rush again. “Good.”

“What time?” he asked, smiling at her obvious signs of nervousness.

“Oh. Six, I guess.” She picked up a pad of paper and scribbled down the address.

When he took it from her, his fingertips brushed across hers and instantly, tendrils of heat exploded between them.

She yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned by that same blast of energy, and Davis wondered if he was doing the right thing. If they set sparks off each other that easily, could a fire be far behind?

S
o much for a cozy dinner for two.

He should have known better. Should have guessed that she was up to something. Marie had gone from refusing his lunch invitation to inviting him to dinner at her home. And he’d already noticed that she didn’t seem the type to move fast and loose.

But who would have figured on this? His gaze flicked across the faces gathered around the oblong dining table. Gina, the flirty brunette he’d met earlier at the garage. Angela, the eldest, a stunning widow and the mother of Jeremy, an eight-year-old who would one day make a great interrogator. The kid never ran out of questions. At the end of the table sat Maryann Santini—Mama. Her green eyes were the
image of Marie’s and had hardly left him in the last hour.

He shot a glance at Marie on his right and wondered why she hadn’t told him she’d be throwing him into a family dinner.

Of course, if she had, he wouldn’t have come. He’d never been comfortable around families. He’d always felt like a kid standing outside a candy store. He could see good stuff inside—he just couldn’t get to it. After a while he’d stopped looking.

“So,” Jeremy piped up from the other end of the table, “how come you’re not wearing a uniform, and where’s your gun?”

Clearly Davis’s khaki slacks and pale blue sportshirt were a big disappointment to the kid. “I don’t usually wear the uniform off base and we don’t bring guns to dinner.”

“Man, what a rip-off,” the boy muttered.

He knew exactly how the kid felt. He’d expected candlelight, a bottle of wine and some quiet conversation. Just him and Marie. What a rip-off.

“That’s enough,” the boy’s mother said, and turned a smile on Davis. “So how long have you been at Camp Pendleton, Davis?”

“Just about a week, ma’am,” he said, concentrating on finishing dinner. He had to get out of there.

“And where are you from?”

He took another bite of lasagna, and when he’d
swallowed, answered, “My last posting was in North Carolina.”

“No,” Gina said, giving him one of those practiced, flirty looks she’d been sending him all evening. Damn, the girl was good. Too bad he wasn’t interested. For some reason, Gina’s obvious sexuality didn’t have near the appeal for Davis as Marie’s inherent sensuality.

She continued talking, though, and Davis couldn’t think of a way to stop her. “My sister meant, where are you from originally?”

His fingers tightened around his fork. Everywhere, he thought. Nowhere.

“Where’s your family?” Marie’s mom asked.

“I don’t have a family, ma’am,” he said, and hoped they’d leave it at that.

He should have known better. For the last hour, the Santini women had been pumping him for information about the base, the corps in general and himself specifically. All of them but Marie, that is. The woman he’d come to see had hardly spoken to him. He shot another look at her. Her green eyes met his briefly and once again he felt that indefinable something that coursed between them.

He shouldn’t have given in to the impulse to come here tonight. Hell, he’d known from the get-go that he shouldn’t be seeing her. Just pulling up in front of her house had told him that.

It was an old Craftsman-style with a wide front
porch and a big bay window, through which lamplight poured out into the darkness. A rainbow of Christmas lights were strung across every surface. Every bush sparkled, and the porch pillar posts were wrapped with strings of flickering lights that seemed to move like those on an old movie marquee. On the roof, Santa’s sleigh had slipped to a precarious angle and a couple of his reindeer looked ready to fall. Hell, it had been like looking at a Christmas card. An advertisement for cozy warmth and home fires burning. He wasn’t used to dealing with women so grounded. So rooted. He preferred impersonal apartments and women who recognized the beauty of a brief, but mutually satisfying affair.

So what was he doing here? Mistake, he thought. Big mistake.

Marie Santini and he came from two different worlds and it would be easier for both of them if they stayed that way.

“No family?” Mama Santini repeated with a shake of her head. “I’m so sorry. You must miss them terribly. Especially at this time of year.”

He didn’t say anything and wondered what she would think if he told her you couldn’t miss something you’d never had. But she wouldn’t understand that. None of them would. How could they?

“You won’t spend Christmas alone, will you?” Gina asked.

“Oh, no,” Mama put in before he could answer. “You’ll come here.”

He choked on a bite of lasagna and had to force it down with a gulp of wine. Spend Christmas with the Santini women? He didn’t think so. Three eager faces watched him as he tried desperately to come up with an excuse that would get him out of this without offending them.

Marie had been quiet all evening, as if to prove to her too-inquisitive family that she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in Davis Garvey. She’d sat by while Mama and Angela grilled him. While Gina batted her eyelashes and coyly smiled. While even Jeremy quizzed the poor man about everything marine.

But the look on Davis’s face told her that the family had gone too far. She didn’t know what it was about the mention of family that had shuttered his features, but she figured it wasn’t any of hers—or her family’s business.

“You know what?” Marie spoke up, changing the subject, and the other three women looked at her. “It’s getting late. I’ve gotta get Jeremy to the batting cages.”

“Cool!” her nephew shouted, and jumped out of his chair.

“Yes,” his mother called out after him, “you can be excused.”

“Batting cages?” Davis asked, clearly grateful for the shift in conversation. “In December?”

“Sign-ups for Little League are in February,” she told him and stood up. “Gotta get in shape.”

As she’d expected, Davis took the opportunity she’d handed him.

He pushed himself up from the table and stood beside her. “I think I’ll be going, too, but thank you for dinner, Mrs. Santini.”

“Call me Mama,” she said. “Everyone does.”

He actually paled.

Apparently the combined forces of the Santini women could bring even a marine to his knees.

They escaped the dining room together and headed for the front door. Behind them, three female voices broke into a whispered conversation. From upstairs came the sound of Jeremy’s running feet and Marie knew she only had a minute or two to get rid of Davis.

And she did want to get rid of him, she reminded herself.

She walked him to the door and opened it. “Thanks for coming,” she said.

But he didn’t leave. He only stood there, looking down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you?”

He shook his head. “About your whole family being here?”

“Oh,” she said with what she hoped was a convincingly innocent tone, “didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Marie said, and tightly gripped the doorknob with her right hand. Watching him at the table had stirred up a bit of guilt inside her. He’d looked so ill at ease, she’d almost felt sorry for him when the questioning had gotten fast and furious. “I should have told you. But Gina wanted to see you again and I thought…”

His eyes widened and he chuckled under his breath. The sound had a strange effect on her. Almost as if it had danced along her spine, sending goose bumps trailing across her flesh. She took a slow, deep breath and told herself—
again
—to get a grip.

“So you were trying to set me up with your sister?”

“What’s wrong with my sister?” she demanded, instinctively defensive, despite the fact that only a few minutes ago, she’d wanted to kill Gina for pouncing on the man.

“Nothing that a couple dozen Valium wouldn’t cure,” he muttered. Then he asked, “Is she
always
so perky?”

Marie ducked her head to hide a smile. Gina’s perpetual cheerleader attitude could get a little wearing. “She has a positive personality.”

“You could say that,” he said, and moved in a little closer. “But,” he reminded her quietly, “I didn’t ask her to lunch. I asked you.”

“And I asked you to dinner. So we’re even.”

“Not yet,” he said.

Did he practice giving women that long, soulful look? Or was it a gift he was born with? Marie’s breath hitched in her chest. He seemed to loom over her—and she wasn’t exactly on the petite side. But Sergeant Garvey was not only tall, he was broad, and from what she could see, in fantastic shape.

She was way out of her depth.

“Look,” she said, drawing in a deep breath, but keeping her voice low enough so that her family wouldn’t overhear her, “why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” He actually sounded confused.

“This. Acting like you’re interested in me.”

“Who’s acting?” he asked, and lifted one hand to smooth her hair back from her face. The slightest touch of his fingertips sent short bursts of excitement fluttering through her, and Marie took one hasty step back.

All night she’d watched him, listened to him and tried to remember that she wasn’t attracted to him. Wasn’t interested in him. So why did he have to touch her and shoot all of her fine notions clear to the moon?

“You ready, Marie?” Jeremy called, and thundered down the stairs and past them out the door.

“Yes,” she yelled after him gratefully. And then to her family she called, “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Davis followed her onto the porch, and in the glow
of the Christmas lights, he asked, “So where are the batting cages?”

“Why?” she responded warily.

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done any hitting. Thought it might be fun.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked about seventeen. And entirely too good.

Davis stood outside the cage, curling his fingers into the wire mesh as he watched Marie teach her nephew the proper batting stance. His gaze followed every wiggle of her hips, and the curve of her behind in those tight black jeans was enough to stop his heart.

She’d paid no attention to him at all since they’d arrived at the cages. Every bit of her concentration was on the nephew who clearly adored her. She was patient, firm and surprisingly knowledgeable about the intricacies of batting.

Along the line of cages, baseballs thumped into the netting and slammed against wooden backboards. Piped in from overhead speakers came a stream of Christmas carols, and the cold ocean air whipping over the crowds gave the whole place a seasonal feel.

Dozens of kids ran loose, their harried-looking parents handing out quarters for the cages and the video machines. It had been years since Davis had
been to one of these places and he found himself enjoying it. He took a last gulp of really bad coffee, crushed the now-empty hot cup, tossed it into the trash and turned his attention back to Marie.

He couldn’t help himself. She captivated him, and that was a bad sign, he knew. He should have gone home and forgotten all about the sexy mechanic. But even knowing that, he hadn’t been able to leave her yet. Damn. It was like going into combat. You knew it was dangerous and your gut told you to run like hell. But a stronger instinct—something primal and undeniable—took over, making you stand your ground.

And a purely male instinct was telling him to grab Marie and kiss her so long and hard and deep that neither of them would worry about the consequences.

She fitted the batting helmet on Jeremy’s head, patted the top and then slipped out of the cage, closing the door behind her.

“Okay, kiddo,” she called out. “Get ready. The first one’s coming in hard and fast.”

“I know, I know,” the boy answered in that patient tone that all kids adopt when talking to adults.

“You’re good with him,” Davis said, sliding a look at her.

“He’s a great kid.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes on Jeremy. The first pitch went past him. “Keep your swing even.”

“So how’d you learn so much about baseball?” Davis asked, more for something to talk about than anything else.

“My dad taught me,” she said. Then she called out, “You have to keep both hands on the bat.”

“I didn’t think little girls played baseball.”

She shot him a glance, and smiled and said, “Welcome to the twentieth century.”

“Baseball and auto repair, huh?”

“What can I say? I’m a Renaissance woman.”

She was that.

“Did your sisters play, too?” He didn’t care about her sisters. He just wanted to hear that smoky-sounding voice of hers again.

Marie laughed and shook her head, still watching Jeremy. She clucked her tongue when the kid missed another pitch. “Angela and Gina? Play baseball? No way.”

“So you were the tomboy in the bunch?”

“Were?” She shook her head. “Still am.” She winced when Jeremy took a pitch on his arm. “Rub it out, kiddo, and get ready for the next one.”

She intrigued him completely. He’d never known anyone quite like her. The women he dated wouldn’t be caught dead playing ball with a bunch of kids. Marie seemed to thrive on it. She was just so damned
alive
.

“You’re patient, too,” Davis commented.

She turned a quizzical look on him. “You expected me to slap Jeremy around?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “But usually adults get a little testy—start yelling—when a kid’s not learning.”

“Speaking from experience, are we?” she asked.

When he didn’t answer, Marie looked up at him, and he felt as though she was looking deep inside him. To where he kept his secrets. And he didn’t like it.

He shifted, tearing his gaze from hers and effectively cutting off any question she might have asked. He didn’t want to talk—or think—about his past. He wanted to talk about the now. With her.

“Hey, Santini!” A deep voice called out from just behind them.

Davis glanced over his shoulder in time to see a tall, hulking guy step up next to Marie and give her behind a swat. She yelped and Davis took a step closer, to put himself between her and the guy who’d actually hit her. Instinct had his right hand curling into a fist even as Marie turned, rubbing her bottom with one hand and grinned at the guy.