The Officer Breaks the Rules (3 page)

“No. No, I’m fine.” With effort, he unclenched his fists, closed his eyes, and tried
to take his mind elsewhere, willing his muscles to relax enough to finish the job.
“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know it’s uncomfortable.” Her voice was all business again, as if he
could have been any random Marine in here getting worked on.

He knew that was best. But he hated it anyway.

“I’m having people over next weekend to break in the new place. I know I’ve lived
there for a while now, but I haven’t had any guests over. I’m always at Tim and Skye’s
place. So I wanted to play hostess for a change. I didn’t know if Tim had mentioned
it.”

He had. But Jeremy gave a noncommittal answer, as usual. “Not sure if I can go,” he
mumbled.

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. He could hear the hurt in her voice, knew there would be just a hint
of sadness in her eyes if he dared open his own to look.

He didn’t dare.

She continued on in silence. Which seemed heavier than the conversation before it.

“Okay. I think you’re good. Do you have something else to change into, or will you
need a pair of scrub pants?”

“I’ve got jeans in my bag.” He waited for her to step away and turn her back to him
before hopping down and pulling up his now-ruined cammie pants. He couldn’t walk out
the door in them. But for the moment, until she stepped past the curtain, they were
his best chance of coverage.

Madison stood still, watching as he belted the pants. She bit her lip—a sign he recognized
now as meaning she was holding back something.

“What, Mad?”

“I hate how things are between us,” she blurted out, then blushed furiously.

“How things are…” he said, waiting for more information before he stepped in it.

“I just… Yeah. After that whole thing with you and me outside Dwayne’s apartment,
I don’t know. I don’t like that we can’t seem to be friends anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Was it? He couldn’t deny he was always watching where he stepped
with her now. “You’ll always be a friend.”

She chewed her lip a little more and stared over his shoulder instead of at him, but
she shrugged as if she were done with the convo. “All right.”

“Madison.” He croaked her name, unable to hold it in.

She met his eyes then, and he could see the pain there.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She turned away, fiddling with instruments on the cart. “Seriously. I’m
a little embarrassed that I was throwing myself at someone who didn’t want me back.”

“I never said that.” The words were out before he could stop them. But they were no
less than the truth.

Her hands froze, but she stayed facing away. “But you won’t give us a chance.”

“Madison.” She wouldn’t turn around. He touched her shoulder. “I can’t.”

Her shoulder jerked under his hand, and he dropped it. “Keep the area dry for a few
days, and change out the dressing tomorrow morning with this.” She tossed an individually
wrapped gauze pad large enough to cover the bulk of his abrasion onto the table. “If
it looks worse, or the skin around it starts turning red, come back in.”

And with that, she pushed through the curtain. The flap closed behind her, and he
was alone in the cubicle, suddenly swamped with sound from outside. As if Madison’s
presence had been a mute button, locking them in a soundproof room, and when she left,
the world and all its sounds intruded once more.

Dammit. He sat down heavily in the chair next to the exam table and opened his bag
to hunt for his jeans. Jeans he should have put on before heading home but he was
too stubborn to bother with.

What the hell was he going to do with Madison?

Nothing
, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father told him.
A
career
in
the
Corps
requires
a
wife
who
can
be
with
you, be flexible, be supportive. What kind of parents could you be if you were a dual-military
couple?

Nothing
, a more reasonable voice echoed.
Madison
is
Tim’s sister. A real friend wouldn’t go there. Not ever.

He prayed he was friend enough to remember that in moments of weakness.

***

Madison slammed into her apartment with enough force to scare a SWAT team. The man
was so infuriating, she couldn’t even begin to unravel the ways he made her want to
scream.

Actually, screaming sounded pretty good. She debated for a moment, then decided her
neighbors wouldn’t be as pleased with the result as she would.

She flopped down on the couch, then rolled enough to reach around and untie her bun.
It annoyed the hell out of her, how tight she had to keep her hair back. Talk about
a headache. But when she thought about cutting it, she just remembered all over again
how annoying it was to grow back out when she wanted to change. And the regulation
length for short hair for females really didn’t flatter her face all that much either.

The silence of her home pressed around her, choking her. For the first time ever,
she lived alone. In college, she had roommates. During OCS, she had several roommates.
And at her first duty station, yup, a roommate. Even moving here, she originally planned
to live with her brother Tim while he was deployed. Though she would have been the
only one there, his things and his emotional presence would have made her feel better.

But then it turned out he was, um, married, and Skye wanted to live with her husband.
Go figure, she thought with a smile. So she did the mature thing and found a place
for herself on the fly, giving the newlyweds some time to get to know each other without
a sister underfoot.

Maybe she could get a dog. No, too much work and her hours were too unpredictable.
The poor thing would be home alone way too much.

A cat, maybe. They were more self-reliant and didn’t need to be taken out for walks
all the time.

Too bad she hated cats. Too pissy and selfish. She was selfish enough.

Something else she hated… the way Jeremy was dodging all chances to see her, to be
alone with her.

She snorted a little as she remembered the look on his face when she asked him to
drop his boxers in the hospital. Priceless didn’t begin to describe it. But, God,
that hadn’t been easy for either of them.

Her professionalism kicked in, thank the good Lord, and she managed to work without
trembling hands. But while he kept his eyes closed, trying to relax his muscles, she
couldn’t help but notice his body. And when she’d finished and bandaged the area,
she took just one self-serving moment to look her fill.

He was cut, that was for sure. Not as bulky as Dwayne, but he had his fair share of
muscle. Lean and sculpted, that would be how she described him. It wasn’t an obvious
strength. Someone could easily overlook him when taking bets on a fight. But Jeremy
had a body that was quick and sharp and made her mouth water.

The first time Jeremy dropped trou in front of her, she didn’t imagine it’d be in
this capacity. But she’d take it.

And he fought her. He as much as admitted there was an attraction on both sides. She
wanted him, and she’d made it beyond clear. The way he responded to her, it was clear
he felt the same. But he held back and refused to get involved. She knew he wasn’t
dating someone else, so what was his issue?

Madison stood, body aching just a little from the twelve hours on her feet, and shuffled
back to the bedroom where she tossed her scrubs on the floor and hopped in the shower
for a quick rinse off. After drying, she grabbed an oversized pair of sweatpants and
a sweatshirt she’d liberated from her brother’s closet when she moved out. Despite
the fact that she was bone-tired, she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep. Crawling in bed
now would only lead to aggravation, she’d learned over the years. After a long shift
in the ER, her body needed an hour to decompress before any sort of sleep was an option.

So she grabbed a magazine and headed back for her couch. Except, she passed by the
second bedroom and couldn’t help but peek in.

She had no need for an office, and the only bedroom furniture she owned was in her
own room. The two-bedroom apartment had seemed like such a waste, but she liked the
complex and no one-bedroom units had been available. All that sat in there now was
a lonely looking—and sadly underused—elliptical machine and a few stray boxes that
she had yet to put in the outside storage unit her apartment came equipped with.

Maybe another roommate was the ticket. Her mind immediately flashed to Jeremy.

Easy, girl. That’s not going to help at all.

Being more practical, she scanned the room again. She had the space. But she was past
the idea of putting an ad in the base paper. No, she’d need to choose a roommate more
carefully this time around. She wasn’t twenty-two anymore. Didn’t want a party animal
or a complete slob. She was bad enough on the slob front.

Something else to think about. After she plopped back down on the cushions and started
flipping mindlessly through the fluff magazine, her mind wandered once more to Jeremy
and the haunted look in his eyes as he told her that yeah, despite the fact that he
wanted her too, he wasn’t going to make that move—ever.

But at least she knew he wanted her. It wasn’t lack of desire that held him back.

A crinkling sound had her looking down to see her hands clenched around the magazine
pages. She smoothed them out. It wasn’t fair to either of them, really. They wanted
each other. They were both single, healthy adults. So why couldn’t they give it a
shot? Whatever his reasons were, it didn’t seem fair to put them ahead of their own
desires.

So maybe she would try again. Bump up the campaign to get Jeremy to set aside his
silly reservations about the two of them in a relationship and see if things could
go somewhere.

Feeling a little lighter now than she had before, Madison flipped again through the
pages, smiling to herself as she started forming a much more subtle, simple plan of
attack.

Jeremy lay back, hissing again as he bumped his hip. Damn thing hurt like hell. All
day his leg had been on fire at work. Like hell would he ever admit that to anyone.
But damn, the thing was painful. Not to mention the numerous other bumps and bruises
his body took on from the minor crash. He’d been avoiding changing the bandage all
day, mostly because he just didn’t want to know what it looked like. Seemed easier
that way. Denial was always healthy, right? Soon he’d have to get to it.

But first, a beer.

With his hip cocked up, he stretched out on the couch to watch
Seinfeld
reruns when someone knocked on his door.

Tim ran straight home to his wife after the workday was done, and Dwayne was deployed.
Which only left…

He had no clue. But he grunted, called out a gruff, “Hold on,” and leveraged himself
up as easily as he could. Thankfully he’d changed into mesh workout shorts when he
came home, or his pants would be rubbing against his road rash like a son of a bitch.

He hobbled only a little on stiff legs to the door and yanked it open without bothering
to check. “What?”

Madison stood on his doorstep, eyes narrowed at his pissed tone. “That’s a fine thanks
I get for coming over here to check up on you and see if you need help with your bandage.”

As usual, his body fought a losing battle to ignore what she did to him physically.
Rather than say no, he gave in and stepped back, letting her into his apartment.

She spun around once and shuddered. “Seriously, you need a new place.”

“It works for me.”

“It screams pitiful bachelor.”

“Then there’s no false advertising.” He hobbled the first step, then sucked it up
and walked without the limp to the mini-kitchen area. “Want something to drink?”

“No.” Her eyes took another lap around his apartment—which took about seven seconds—and
she shook her head. “It doesn’t even have a kitchen.”

“Yes it does.” He knocked a hand against the two-burner stove. “See?”

“That’s a kitchenette. Not a kitchen.”

He made a face. “Kitchenette is a girl word. It’s a mini-kitchen. So, therefore, I’ve
got a kitchen.”

“I know you can do better. Why don’t you?”

“Leave it alone, Madison.” He sat down on the rolling desk chair, giving her the whole
couch. The less their bodies touched, the better off he was.

But she didn’t sit down. “Did you change the bandage this morning?”

He wiped a hand down his face and mumbled something under his breath.

“Jeremy Phillips!”

Jesus, it was like his mother came back to life just to give him hell. “I said no.
I forgot about it.” Total lie.

“What a lie.”

He never could bullshit with Madison.

“Let me guess. Didn’t want to do it because it would hurt too much.” She blew out
a breath and dropped her book bag on the steamer trunk that doubled as a coffee table.
“Figures. Men. They act so tough and rough, but the moment they have a boo-boo, they
turn into the biggest wusses possible.”

“That’s not a scientifically proven fact,” he pointed out, grabbing a bottle of water
from the fridge.

“It’s enough of a fact for me. Don’t forget, I see people in pain all day. The women
grit their teeth and apologize for being an inconvenience. The men are all, ‘Don’t
you have a shot for that?’”

He chuckled, because it was the exact thing he’d been thinking while she cleaned the
wound. “Yeah, well, it hurt.”

Madison patted the sofa cushion. “Come on over, tough guy. Lie down and let’s get
that bandage changed.”

He’d rather chew glass, but that wasn’t going to add to the macho image she mocked.
So he went for stoic silence as he dragged himself across the few feet to the couch.
Doing a controlled fall, he landed on his stomach, face in one of the throw pillows
that came free with the couch. Actually, it was a pretty comfortable position. He
could settle in for a nap quite easily. “You’re not going to turn Evil Nurse on me
and make me cry, are you?”

“It hadn’t occurred to me,” she said sweetly. But the glint in her eyes told him the
thought very much occurred to her, and she was giving it a lot of consideration.

He groaned but held still.

“Uh. Earth to Jeremy. I need those off.”

“Hmm?” he mumbled into the pillow. This was actually a pretty comfortable position.
Maybe he should look into napping like this more often.

Something tugged on the cuff of his shorts… presumably Madison. “These. They need
to come off. Let’s go. Pants off, big boy.”

And just like that, his comfortable position became severely uncomfortable as his
dick swelled and pressed hard against the couch cushions.

Jesus, he had it bad when even the knowledge that their encounter would bring pain
didn’t detract from his boner. There was something extremely wrong with him.

“Turn around,” he growled. But when he looked up, she sat on the steamer trunk, arms
crossed over her chest, one brow raised in the
you
have
got
to
be
kidding
me
face.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Turn around.”

“I can assure you, Jeremy, I’ve seen enough of the male form in my day not to swoon
with excitement.” Her voice was dry, sarcastic, and totally typical Madison.

The thought of her watching more than one dude get undressed—even for her job—made
his fists clench. But he just lay there, waiting.

And she sat, also waiting.

Showdown. High noon.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, then turned to face the back of the couch, more to hide his
erection than anything, and shimmied out of the shorts as best he could. Thank you,
God, for elastic waistbands.

“Don’t do that!” she shrieked. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Too late. His eyes stung as the side of his leg against the couch cushion burned like
hellfire. But he refused to let her see that, so fast as he could, he flopped back
down on his stomach, hiked the leg of his boxer shorts up as far as he could, and
did his best to cover his ears with his arms.

Too bad it didn’t drown out Madison’s lecturing.

“…stupid, ignorant, moronic man! You can’t be serious. Why is it always men who make
the worst patients?”

“I assume all of this is rhetorical?” he asked, voice muffled against the pillow.

“Bite me.”

More unnecessary, completely unwanted images popped into his head. Madison stretched
out below him, whispering “bite me” in his ear while her knees raised up. His teeth
grazing the extended tendons in her neck, making her moan with delight. Making her
want more. Making him…

“Christ!” A burning pain streaked from his leg out to the tips of his fingers, raising
the hair on the back of his neck.

Madison peeled away the pad without an ounce of fanfare and tsked mockingly. “I’d
say I’m sorry, but lying to patients is something I try to avoid.”

“How about lying to a friend?”

“That too,” she said cheerfully. “This wouldn’t be so bad if you hadn’t just rubbed
your leg into the cushion. Or if you’d changed this when you were supposed to.”

“Thanks for the memo.”

Despite her warning about the pain, despite the fact that he knew he would deserve
her harsh treatment, her hands were gentle. Soothing as they rubbed on some cream.
As they checked the area. Almost caressing at times, it felt good. Would have felt
better without the sting of pain. But her touch soothed out the rough edges of the
sting.

“Where’s your bike?”

He dragged his mind from the faraway place he’d let it drift. “Took it to the shop
last night. Wanted it checked on after all the skidding it did. Plus the paint’s jacked
up, so they’ll fix that for me.”

“I hope it’s okay.” Silence reigned for a minute, then she said, “I’ve never ridden
on one. What’s it like?”

“You? Never been on a motorcycle?” He raised his head at that, a little surprised.
With the number of military guys who rode, and having been surrounded by Marines since
she was born, he was shocked she’d never been taken for a ride.

“Please,” she scoffed. “Like Daddy would have let me go off on some corporal’s bike
when I was growing up.”

True enough. Madison and Tim’s father was extremely protective of his little girl.
Not that Jeremy could blame him.

“And I’ve just never been on one as an adult.” She tore off a piece of tape to drape
over the new pad covering his wound. “Would you take me out sometime? Just for a short
ride?”

Rock, meet Hard Place. He grunted, hoping that would suffice as a noncommittal answer.

Of course it didn’t. “Was that a yes?”

He cracked one eye open to see her smiling at him innocently. She must practice that
look in the mirror. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice sounded rusty. But just the thought of
having Madison behind him on his motorcycle, arms wrapped around his waist, thighs
squeezing his hips as he leaned into a turn, breasts pressed against his back…

And
hello, Mr. Boner. It’s been about five minutes since you were here last.

Madison sat back and nodded. “You’re all set. Am I going to have to come back tomorrow,
or will you be able to do this yourself like a big boy?”

“I’ve got it,” he answered quickly. Making the ritual of taking off his pants in front
of Madison a daily thing was his idea of a certain level of hell. He’d pass if at
all possible.

Madison blinked a moment, as if surprised—or even disappointed?—in his answer. But
she nodded and quirked into a smile. “Well, good. You need to take care of yourself.”

She stood and gathered her things, shoving them into her book bag randomly. He stood
as well, yanking his boxer leg down when her gaze was averted for a moment, then grabbing
a roll of tape that had fallen to the floor and passing it to her.

“Thanks.” She zipped the bag and hefted it over her shoulder. Then her eyes dropped
for a moment and she looked back up. “I’m really glad you’re not worse off, Jeremy.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I won’t bother you again, coming over.”

“You’re not a bother, Madison.” His own desire for her, that was the bother. The circumstance,
that was a bother. Never her.

She gave him a smile. “Good. Then I hope this won’t bother you either.”

***

Madison dropped her book bag down to the coffee table trunk thing. But he didn’t move.
When she put her hands on his shoulders, he didn’t budge. And when she raised up on
her toes, he didn’t even blink. So she decided to go for the gold and pressed her
lips to his.

Nothing. He didn’t step away, didn’t step forward. Didn’t participate, but didn’t
pull back.

What the hell? She angled her head a little, pressed her body to his more tightly,
but no dice.

Finally, with the feeling of foolishness racing up her spine, she tried one more thing.

Her hands drifted up his shoulders, around his neck, and she let her fingernails scratch
lightly at the back of his scalp. Meanwhile, her tongue darted out and licked the
seam of his lips.

There. If that didn’t do it, then nothing—

“Dammit.” The growl was the only warning she had before Jeremy’s arms locked around
her back and he pulled her so tightly against him, she couldn’t tell where her front
ended and his began. His mouth slanted further over hers, giving the perfect angle
to open more fully for the kiss. One hand lowered more, cupped under her butt, and
lifted so that she was barely standing on her own any longer.

And she felt it. The unmistakable proof that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
His erection straining the front of his boxers—which she would bet dollars to donuts
he’d forgotten he was wearing.

That she—Madison O’Shay—had enough feminine power to make a man so confident in his
own ways forget his restraint gave her a thrill. But mostly the thrill came from Jeremy.
It was him. Always him. Since she was sixteen, it’d been Jeremy Phillips for Madison.

Too bad he still wasn’t in on the long-term program. Yet.

He tasted like butterscotch, she realized belatedly, and chuckled. As if trying to
reprimand her for losing track, his teeth nipped her bottom lip and she stopped laughing
entirely. He was serious, as usual. Everything was serious for Jeremy, and this was
no different.

Woo-hoo!

When his mouth left hers to graze down her cheek, under her jaw, and scrape against
her neck, she whispered his name. As if she couldn’t hold it back any longer, and
needed to be reminded this was what it felt like when dreams came true.

Tactical error.

Hearing her voice flipped some sort of switch in him, and he jerked back, away from
her, away from even being close enough to reach out and touch.

His breath came in hard pants, like he’d run a marathon but hadn’t trained for it.
And his eyes were glassy, as if seeing something he shouldn’t be.

“Jeremy?” The nurse in her came out, and she wondered for a moment what was wrong.
His detached look scared her just a little. “Jeremy?”

“No.” He shook his head once, eyes clearing. “No. Madison, we can’t.”

“Why can’t we?” she insisted. “You haven’t given me one good reason why we can’t.
I accepted it, thought it meant you weren’t interested in me, and I left it alone.
But now I know. I know you want me too. So why are we fighting something, putting
the effort into avoiding it, when we could just
have
it
?”

“I never said I wanted it,” he argued. But when Madison’s eyes trailed down to the
clear erection he was sporting, Jeremy grabbed his mesh shorts and stepped into them,
a scowl on his face. “Leave it alone. It’s not supposed to happen.”

“Still not a reason,” she pointed out, which only made his scowl darken.

“It’s all the reason we need.” He adjusted the waistband on his shorts and crossed
his arms over his chest. The message couldn’t be more clear if he wrote it on a Post-it
note and slapped it on her forehead. Discussion closed. “Thanks for stopping by. My
leg feels better already.”