Long Simmering Spring (9 page)

“I spent most of my time at Bagram Airfield, in Afghanistan. All we did was sleep, eat, and patrol. If we found insurgents, we’d flush them out, secure the area, then go back to patrolling again. We thought we’d be instilling order in the community by training police forces and empowering the townspeople, but the infrastructure just wasn’t there for us to do our jobs effectively. Sometimes we’d go talk to a sheikh, or a warlord—try to make allies—but mostly we just tried not to get killed.”

“Were you afraid?”

“No,” he said bluntly, his mouth a hard line. “At least, not at first. I didn’t care much for my own mortality back then. Once I started to care, I became more afraid. But I pushed the fear aside to do my job. The pride always outweighed the fear.” He paused. “No one’s ever asked me that before. Most folks just ask if I’ve killed anyone.”

“Have you?” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

“Yeah.” His gaze didn’t waver. “It changes you, permanently. Don’t know if I’m going to hell for that—or for something else—but you need to know who I am.
What
I am.” A muscle ticked dangerously in his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“After what I’ve done, I can guarantee I’m not the same guy I used to be.” He shook his head. “Maybe not all my change is for the better, but it’s no surprise you’ve turned out to be someone incredible.”

It seemed that it was confession time. “There was another reason I slapped you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his gaze steady, as if readying himself to take whatever she dished out. “What’s that?”

“I thought if I gave you the chance—if I let you in, even for a second—you’d break my heart. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not then. Definitely not now.”

A terrible look of sadness flashed across his face for just a moment, before he composed himself. “That isn’t me and that isn’t you. Not anymore.” He covered her hand with his, his thumb skimming up the inside of her wrist. The gesture was heated. Charged.

“I’m just looking for something light. Something fun,” she finally whispered, compelled to be honest with him.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice a deep rasp. “I can do fun.” He rubbed his thumb over her now-sensitized flesh, a slow, sensual drag that sent shivers down her spine. “Let me show you how much fun I can be.”

Unconsciously, Julie leaned forward as Cole was speaking. He leaned in closer too.

Just then, the waiter appeared.

“Calamari!”
the server said with a flourish, as he placed the dish in the center of the table.
“Bocconcini di mozzarella!”
he continued, putting the tomato and mozzarella salad next to the dish of calamari.
“Buono appetito!”

Cole released Julie’s hand and the breath she’d been holding came out in a soft whoosh. He leaned back in his chair, smiling that sinful smile. A smile designed to seduce as much as to hide. He looked like the old Cole—dangerous and unrepentant—but with a depth of experience behind his eyes. She liked the way her response curled in her belly, warming her from the inside out.

With a calmness she didn’t know she possessed, she lifted the serving spoon with steady hands and dug into the salad.

They were quiet in the car heading home after dinner. Julie stole a quick glance at Cole driving, his capable hands steady on the wheel, his strong features coming into relief each time they drove by a streetlamp. He was gorgeous, no doubt about it—the perfect fling.

Soon, they were back at her house. Cole helped her out of the car and together they walked up the porch stairs to her front door. The evening air was chilly and slightly damp. No moon shone, as the sky was filled with dark clouds, portending rain later that night.

“Thank you for an . . . illuminating evening,” she said, looking up at him. The dim porch light cast shadows on his face in all the right places. “I had a good time.” Once they’d gotten past the heavy stuff, the conversation had flowed freely and she’d enjoyed his company. “I’d never have guessed you were into old-fashioned movie theaters, too.”

“We’ll have to go to the Wellfleet Drive-In when it opens this May,” he said with a smile.

“I’d like that.”

“Look at that. Another date. We’re loosening you up already, Doc.”

He was standing right in front of her now, so near that she could smell the soap on his skin. Then he stepped closer and wrapped one long arm around her. After everything they’d shared tonight, it felt natural that he should be touching her like this. Then he took his other hand and cupped her jaw. He was watching her. Testing her.

“May I?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

Fractionally, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As he bent his head, she closed her eyes.

And then she felt it—the warm, firm pressure of his lips on hers—and fireworks burst behind her lids.

Yes. Please. More.

She opened her mouth, demanding that he deepen the kiss. When he did, it was as if the whole universe had narrowed down to this point. To the two of them right here, right now.

This
was what she’d wanted all along—this hard, hot rush that overrode anything else she was thinking or feeling. The past was gone. It was the present that mattered. She embraced it, the heat from his body warming her from the inside out. The dizzy, teetering-on-the edge desire she couldn’t control.

It was real and right, all insecurities swept away with the pressure of his mouth on hers. She slipped her arms around him inside his leather jacket and held on, pressing her body against him. She slid a hand up, exploring that beautifully muscled back. In response, he groaned into her mouth and swept his palm around to cradle the back of her head. Then, slowly, he began to walk her backward until she was flat up against the door. With practiced ease, he moved his hand from her waist up her rib cage, grazing the side of her breast and back down again.

It had started out so sweetly, but now they were verging into more dangerous territory. Julie couldn’t prevent the image of seventeen-year-old Cole from flashing through her mind, but she’d given up trying to fight it. Instead, she embraced it and simply morphed her mental picture into the thirty-three-year-old Cole who was kissing her senseless.

He was all male and made sure she knew it, his bulge pressing between her thighs, hot and hard. When he began to softly nip down her neck, an electric jolt coursed through her. Was this really happening?

Yes, yes, it was, and she wanted it to. Craved his big hands on her, sweeping away the loneliness.

When he brushed his knuckles over her breast, her nipple hardened instantly and she gasped.

But when she ran her hand back down his back and hooked a finger into his waistband, he stiffened. Did he not want this as much as she did? In a split second, the mood shifted and suddenly, everything felt wrong. Her eyes flew open as she jerked her hand away. Embarrassed by the swell of emotion, she pushed at his chest, but he held her there, trapped between him and the door.

“Don’t push me away. It’s not what you think.”

“What is it, then?” This was supposed to be fun, not mortifying.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous. Really gorgeous. But before things go any further tonight, I think it’d be best if I went home.”

“Why?” she asked, needing to understand.

“You have to be absolutely sure that this is what you want. Because once we start, you know we’re not going to stop.”

“Right,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“C’mon, Doc,” he said, his voice roughening. “We both know how good it’s going to be.”

She couldn’t find the words to respond, but he kissed her once more on the mouth, extricated his hands, and stepped back. “I want to make sure you’re safely inside before I leave.”

She fished around for her keys in her purse, hand shaking slightly. When she found them, she let herself in. Once in the foyer, she turned around, and Cole raised his hand goodbye, a curious look in his eyes.

“I’m glad you didn’t slap me this time,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Julie’s body was throbbing, every nerve ending alive, her lips still swollen from where he’d marked her. Could the man ever kiss!

She’d remember that kiss for the rest of her life.

Cole walked back to his car, gravel crunching under his feet. It wasn’t until he was down Julie’s driveway and back on the road leading to town that he let out the breath he’d been holding. He rolled down his car window and let the fresh air whip across his face. The aromas of sea and forest intermingled in the cool spring night.

Walking away
had been the toughest thing he’d done in a long time. Julie’s eyes, filled with passion and longing, made him want nothing more than to sweep her up and carry her to her bedroom. She made him crazy just thinking about what he’d do to her. With her.

The instant before he’d kissed her, she’d looked gorgeous—waiting, wanting. God, he didn’t deserve someone like her! Someone who might actually take him for who he was. She’d closed those beautiful hazel-green eyes. She’d
trusted
him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Her declaration that she was just looking for something fun had rubbed him the wrong way. The respect folks now accorded to him had been hard earned, and it irked him to think that Julie might be into him
because
of his bad-boy past, not despite it. He was a different guy now. And he wanted her to acknowledge that he was a better one.

But he still had to face the fact that not all of his change was for the better.

Olivia just hadn’t gotten it. She’d seen him as a glittery prize, a guy to show off when they went out and someone she could brag about to all her girlfriends. It hadn’t helped that gnawing feeling of isolation he felt—that disconnect from the real world. But Julie wasn’t like Olivia. The look on the doctor’s face when he’d told her he’d killed for his country hadn’t been one of excitement; it had been one of empathy. And if she found out that of all the men from his unit, he was one of the few still alive, well, surely she’d have to know how screwed up that made someone. How locking the guilt down could take its toll, chipping away at his soul, eating him from the inside out. Years ago, he’d thought that joining the army was what he needed to do to make up for his past, but the price he’d paid was a terrible one.

Julie had seen a glimpse of who he really was and she hadn’t run. But he needed to let his brain override his heart to protect himself. And to protect her. Because if he unleashed the demons, then God help whoever got in the way.

But if she could see through to the real man he was underneath . . .?

No . . . he couldn’t afford to think like that. Because if she saw that man—that battered, broken man—would she even want him?

CHAPTER 9

At seven on Sunday evening, Julie stood up from her desk and stretched. As usual, she’d spent almost the entire day working. She felt a bit guilty about it—after all, the whole point of going out with Cole was to work a bit less—but she’d had her fun last night and she was paying the price today. The administrative tasks sure took a lot of time, but someone had to do them. And since she had a one-doctor practice, that someone was her. Of course Cloris did all the basic paperwork, but Julie had to review everything because it was her John Hancock going on the bottom of each page.

Her date with Cole last night had been marvelously surreal—like she was living some alternative-reality version of her life. In the past, she would have seen it as a bad thing, but now that she’d gotten a tantalizing taste of Sheriff Grayson, she suspected it wasn’t. In fact, she’d been more productive today than she’d been in weeks, and she strongly believed it had something to do with the fact that she’d turned off her brain from work last night. She smiled to herself. More experiments with Cole were definitely necessary to see if her hypothesis was correct.

Her stomach growled. Being a workaholic took its toll—all she’d had to eat all day was one of Lexie’s double-berry muffins. Where could she go to get some food, fast? The LMK closed early on Sundays and Babs Kincaide’s Clam Shak wasn’t yet open for the season. Ah, but The Rusty Nail was open and it wasn’t that far away. She could do with a nice glass of wine and some tavern snacks before heading home. Quickly, she organized the stacks of paper on her desk and powered down her computer.

She was tempted to peek out the back door—Ben and Chris had been out there all day scrubbing off their graffiti—but the daylight was almost gone. She’d get a better look at the cleanup job in the morning. Instead, she pulled on her light jacket, grabbed her purse, and went out the front door of her office, locking it behind her. Glancing down Front Street, she thought she saw Max Wright just before he disappeared around the corner onto Main, but she wasn’t sure it was him and certainly didn’t want to shout. So she simply turned the other way and headed down to the piers.

Upon reaching the Nail, she couldn’t help but smile. The entrance to the pub was poorly lit. An old sign hanging from rusted chains above the door frame creaked in the evening breeze. The screen door rattled at the whim of the sea air. The place couldn’t have looked less inviting, but Julie knew better. She opened the door and stepped inside.

In sharp contrast to the bedraggled exterior, the interior of The Rusty Nail was warm and clean. John Anson was sitting at one of the old tables with Luke Bedwin. She nodded hello to the two men, who waved back. Some local young bucks played pool near the back of the establishment, showing off for their girlfriends, who perched on nearby bar stools.

Julie walked up to the polished wooden bar. “Hi, Andy,” she said to the large, older man. “How’s business tonight?”

“Can’t complain, Doctor. What can I get you this evening?” he responded genially, pushing a compartmentalized dish of shelled peanuts and pretzels toward her.

“Better get me my usual,” she said, popping a peanut into her mouth.

“Got a nice Pinot in from California. Think you’d like it.”

“Sounds great.”

“Put it on your tab?”

“Yes, please.” Another one of the benefits of living in a small town. Andy kept tabs for any local who wanted one, and sent a bill at the end of the month. Not being a big drinker, her monthly tab was usually between ten and fifteen dollars, but she liked the community that having a bar tab implied.