Services Rendered (12 page)

“So,” John prompted, “you got the degree.
Did you enlist without their blessing?”

A small shadow passed over her face as she
shook her head. “No. I got my degree and was to start a new job at a doctor’s
office not too far from home. Not exactly the excitement I’d hoped for, but it
was a job and it made my parents happy. Then came the car crash…and suddenly
they were gone and it didn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

His soft words spoke volumes of
understanding. Lauren looked at him with dry eyes. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ve
figured out we didn’t have the best relationship in the world. Annie was the
good child, I was the difficult one. Spent a lot of time feeling guilty over
that. Then I joined the Army, got sent to Iraq, and didn’t have time for guilt
anymore.”

“And yet that guilt is still there.”

Lauren shook her head. “Not really.
Sadness, though. I never knew my parents as an adult. I would like to have
gotten to know them on a different level and that’s never going to happen. That
makes me sad sometimes.”

John nodded. “‘When I was a child I spake
as a child…’”

“Exactly. They would’ve hated me being away
and in danger so much but now that I’m back and safe? I would love to sit and
talk away the afternoon and discuss philosophy and religion and politics—all
those subjects I shunned before.”

It felt good to tell the story. Up until
now, only Beth, Annie and one other knew how much trouble she had with her
parents. In the US Army, personal issues were left where they belonged—at home.
She’d been trained to do a job that left no room for ruminations of the past or
what might have been. Talking to John was far better than talking with the
military psychologists. Those people were overworked and underpaid for the
problems they had to help soldiers cope with.

John sat quietly listening and Lauren knew
he understood even the things she didn’t say. She didn’t need to explain her
love of the ideal concerning her service in Iraq. She didn’t need to tell him
how much she felt she was helping both Iraqis and American. And British. And
Polish. And…so many more.

“So you joined the Army as a nurse but
things have changed since the Korean conflict. No more MASH units.”

Lauren’s smile was small, but it was a
smile. “Nope. No more MASH. More emphasis on getting the wounded to stationary
hospitals that treat a wider range of ailments. I remember one Iraqi kid who
came in with an infected finger from a sliver he got sliding into a home base
made of a wooden slat. We made a difference in his life because he got to see
the helpful side of Americans, not the blowing-up side. Of course, there were
also the soldiers and civilians blown up by IEDs. We treated them all.”

She no longer saw John’s living room.
Instead she saw the tables of wounded. You could never tell who would make it
and who wouldn’t. Two men, side by side with similar wounds—one would go home
and live a good life and the other would be dead before the end of the night.

She shuddered and forced the memory away.
“What about you? You said you were in the Marines?”

John leaned against the cushions. “Like
you, I wanted to be in the service ever since I was a kid. My dad had been
Army, my grandfather Navy. I had to keep up the tradition of rebellion, so…I
became a Marine.”

Lauren smiled and also leaned back. John
understood. She relaxed only when they weren’t talking about her. That was fine
with him. There were some things she should probably know about him. And maybe,
knowing his past, she’d realize she couldn’t outrun her own.

“But I didn’t just want to be a grunt.
Wanted to be an officer and command men in battle. So I went to the Citadel in
Charleston, South Carolina.”

Lauren gave a low whistle. “Must’ve been
tough for a Yankee down there.”

“You’ve no idea. But I wasn’t going to let
any Southern boys think they could win the War Between the States by pushing
around this Yankee boy. I knew I’d be in for a tough time and graduated well
and with the respect of many of those ‘rebels’.”

“So you were planning to be career Marine
the way I planned to make a career out of patching up you guys.”

He knew she tried to keep her tone light,
but John heard the underlying accusation.

“That pretty much sums it up. Of course,
the goal in battle is not to get hurt and a good leader knows that. A great
leader is the one whose men come home.”

“And which were you?”

The softness of her voice belied the
hardness of the question. “I was only good at first,” he answered. With a sigh,
he ticked off the names. “Mortimer, Jones, Wizard, Pitbull. Four men killed in
the first offensive I led. Three of them were killed when they stepped on a
mine. But the fourth, Pitbull, he was hit by a mortar round. Not a lot of
damage to his legs, but a lot of bleeding. I knew first aid, but didn’t know
enough. I couldn’t save him.”

Lauren could hear the pain in his
admission. She put a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He smiled wryly. He took her hand and the
look he gave her remained steady. “I know. I came to terms with it by
determining it would never happen again. I started hanging around the medics in
my free time, getting them to teach me the tricks of their trade.”

“Didn’t you have a medic with you in your
unit in that first battle?”

“Mortimer.”

One of the first ones killed. She nodded.
“So you learned to be the backup medic.”

“It should be part of every officer’s
training. I lobbied for that when I got stateside again but the wheels of the
military turn slowly.”

Lauren made a sound of understanding and he
turned the conversation back to her. “So I have some experience with…coming
home from that.”

“I see that you do.” Some of the tension
had gone from her shoulders but John knew one conversation wouldn’t be enough
to erase the deep cuts her memories made in her soul.

“Thank you, John. It actually does help.
Your knowing what it’s like.”

He still held her hand and now brought it
to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. Her voice remained soft. “We both had
rough times and we both survived them. I’m almost glad your friend Chuck broke
his leg just so we could meet and survive together for a while.”

That got a chuckle and the seriousness of
their talk was broken. John stood, pulling Lauren up and sweeping her into his
arms. He leaned in as if to kiss her, instead whirling her around into a
two-step to the quick tempo of the music. Laughing, she let him lead her
through several steps before the music ended and the song switched to a slower
beat.

Except he didn’t let her go. Still dancing,
he held her lightly, his hands guiding her around his living room.

Lauren sighed and leaned against his
shoulder, liking how they fit together. She’d told him the truth when she
admitted that their talking about their pasts helped. The Army psychologists
understood as well, but their offices tended to be cold, inhospitable places
for her psyche. Here in the warmth of John’s living room, she felt as if he’d
created an enclave of safety just for her. She sighed again, feeling the load
on her shoulders lighten considerably.

“I hope those sighs are of contentment…”

She turned her face up to him, smiling from
the heart for the first time all evening. “Very much so. Thank you. You make me
feel…”

“Feel?” he prompted when her voice trailed
off.

“Safe.” She snuggled in closer, knowing
full well what that admission might cost her and deciding it would be worth the
price.

“Excellent. Now that I’ve lulled you into a
false sense of security, I can proceed with my nefarious plans.”

Chuckling, she pulled away. “And what
nefarious plans are those?”

“Why, to tie you up and make love to you
all night long.” He dropped his voice. “Or did you forget?”

Lauren’s heart jumped right into her
throat. After a moment, she shook her head and managed to get the words out. “I
didn’t forget. I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week long.”

“I’d still like to, you know.”

“I haven’t frightened you off with my tales
of woe?” She tried to keep her voice light, only a slight waver giving away her
nervousness. Lauren wanted this, she wanted him. Desperately.

“Lauren,” John stopped dancing altogether,
keeping her in his arms. She tried not to tremble, to show how close he stood
to her vulnerability. A false step and the walls around her psyche would harden
into concrete, keeping him out, and she didn’t want that. She wanted, needed,
for him to like her in spite of all her problems, her stresses, her frailties.

John bent his head toward hers and she
barely breathed. His lips brushed against hers and she closed her eyes and
leaned in. When he deepened it, she opened for him, gave herself over to him,
her arms reaching up to encircle his neck and hold on. How many months had she
held herself together? How long had she kept it all inside, insisting that she
could handle everything herself? That she didn’t need anyone else in her life telling
her what to do or how to do it? That she’d had enough of taking orders—and
enough of giving them?

The kiss ended and John looked at her.
Lauren sighed and considered, wanted nothing more than to rest easy in this
man’s arms. To let him deal with the problems of the world while she just went
along for the ride. She smiled, nodded her permission and John scooped her up
in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

She squealed and laughed as he carried her
up the stairs to his bedroom, all ghosts of the past temporarily banished. He
paused only long enough to flip a switch beside the bedroom door, turning on a
small, bedside lamp, and she caught only a glimpse of the double bed and of a
dark wood nightstand before he laid her down gently on the mattress, his hand
coming up to hold her face as he kissed her again.

Lauren felt the strength of his muscles
under his shirt as he bent over her. Muscles that could crush her if he wanted.
Suddenly she longed to feel those muscles, the smooth flesh rippling under her
fingers. Living in the present made her feel far more alive than dealing with
the past. His shoulders, his arms, she wanted to explore every inch of him. She
moved under him, a small whimper of desire escaping from the back of her
throat, telling him she wanted more.

“You are a very sexy woman, do you know
that?” he murmured in her ear, his breath barely moving her hair.

“It’s you who make me feel sexy.” Lauren
drew him down into another kiss, deciding Beth was right. She did need this.

His hand slid under her skirt to cup her
nearly naked rear end. She didn’t often wear thongs, yet for tonight the little
scrap of fabric had been a good choice. Especially since the warmth of his hand
created an answering warmth in all the places he touched.

“I will explore every inch of you and give
you pleasure many times over. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she
warned.

For answer, he kissed her again. Not
gently, this time, but with a force calculated to show her just how much he
intended to give her. His tongue pressed at her lips and she opened to him,
feeling him invade her mouth as she knew he would invade other parts of her.

Oh yeah. She wanted this more than anything
else in the world right now. Her arms held him tightly, afraid if she let go she
might lose herself as he plundered her mouth. Her heart pounded and her pussy
opened as the true extent of what he could to do her became evident.

And still she urged him on. When he broke
the kiss, her head swam. Damn, but he was good.

John had been sitting on the bed beside
her. Now he stood, pulling off his shirt in one quick motion.

Lauren had seen John’s naked torso before,
a week ago at the encampment when he’d changed out of his bloody shirt. She
hadn’t been meant to see him then, yet the image had stuck with her.

Yet now, in the glimmer of the bedside
lamp, up close and towering over her, the previous image paled in comparison to
the magnificent reality before her. His smooth skin, just dusted with fine
hairs, stretched beautifully over muscles honed in more than just the weight
room. For a moment, she thought of how effortlessly he’d worked last Sunday,
holding a man’s life in his hands as now he held her attention.

Except John pulled a scarf off the back of
the door beside him and all thoughts fled but one. He really meant it. He would
tie her up and make love to her all night long.

“Sit up and hold out your wrist.”

Lauren smiled demurely at the command in
his voice. She swung her legs to the side and did as he instructed, tugging her
dress down where he’d pushed it up. Deftly John looped the teal-blue silk scarf
over her wrist, tying it loosely enough so that it slid along her forearm, but
with an opening too small to fit over the palm of her hand.

With a flourish worthy of a
prestidigitator, he pulled a second teal scarf from behind him and quickly tied
it to her other wrist. Peeking over his shoulder, Lauren saw another set of
scarves on the floor, all apparently pulled from the back of the door at the
same time. She laughed to see through his trick.