Soldier, Come Home Read online

  It felt right with her slim waist and hips plastered to his middle, her full breasts snuggled against his chest. Their thighs brushed. Of course she could feel that he wanted her. She didn't seem to mind since she didn't try to back away. He tucked in their hands to rest over his heart. Pliant's good.

  Her warm, moist breath bathed his neck. The fingers of her left hand traced little circles on his shoulder, and then toyed with the hair on his nape.

  Oh yeah. "Lorren, stay with me tonight." It was a husky growl in her ear. He felt as much as heard her sharp intake of air.

  She lifted her face to his, her expression sadly serious. "No." She shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry. I can't."

  He opened his mouth to counter her. He wasn't going to beg, but he wasn't going to give up either.

  "Are you busy tomorrow? It's Saturday," she asked, surprising him.

  "Yes," he said.

  She made a little moue of disappointment.

  "I mean no, I'm not busy." He'd cancel his meetings. "Wherever you want me to be, I'll be there."

  "Noon at Navy Pier."

  "You got it, ma'am." He dropped a kiss on her lips, something he'd been dying to do that since the moment he'd seen her. They didn't stop shuffling on the dance floor, he just added the lip lock. She was as sweet as the proverbial apple pie.

  Chapter Three

  Lorren tried not to look at her watch—again—and failed. Twenty minutes. He was twenty minutes late, damn it. Not wanting to appear desperate, she finally seated herself on a bench near the spouting fountain outside the entrance to Navy Pier. But what in the hell was she doing meeting a complete stranger? She didn't know a thing about him, not what his business was, not where he was from. Her stomach clutched cold. He could be married, engaged, a dozen kids, a million things could be wrong with him.

  Between the twentieth and twenty-fifth minutes he was late, she believed he stood her up. And why shouldn't he? He'd been all interested and romantic last night, but in the light of day, he could have decided it wasn't worth it or found someone easier.

  Between the twenty-fifth and thirtieth minutes he was late, she became angry. How dare he! How dare he kiss her the way he had at the Pump Room. She closed her eyes, remembering the sweetness of his full lips smoothing over hers. Slightly parted, brushing back and forth, nipping lightly, the thrill of the gentle suction. She sighed.

  Hot. It was already close to ninety degrees and humid, and the memories made her hotter. Okay, now he's thirty minutes late. He's not coming. Get over it. In her thirty-two years, of course she'd been through this before. Guys didn't usually stand her up, but then she generally knew the men she dated. She couldn't expect a casual pick up to be the same.

  "Well, you lose, buddy," she muttered as she stood up and headed away from the pier. She'd go shopping, maybe get her hair done, buy some shoes. Shoes solved every problem. Looking around for a cabstand, her heart jolted. Excitement and sensual desire practically knocked her flat at the sight of him.

  "Lorren!" He waved a hand in greeting. "I'm sorry. I got here as fast as I could. A meeting ran late, and there was no way to reach you. I don't have your cell number." He politely swept off the ball cap he wore in place of his Stetson.

  Relief. Man, am I pathetic. Her heart fluttered at her happiness to see him. "I was just about to leave."

  "I know. I saw you as I was coming down the street. I was afraid you'd go the other way."

  "Well, it's a good thing you caught me then." She was happy he showed but not quite ready to forgive him for being so late.

  "I would have chased you down. Do you think after that kiss last night that I wouldn't show up today?"

  She laughed warily. "Well, you never know." She needed to get control of the situation. Keep it casual, light.

  "You do remember the kiss, right?" He tapped her chin once with a fingertip and tilted his head, peering at her.

  "Pretty hard to forget." She found herself a tad breathless all of a sudden, as she gazed up into his eyes.

  "Well, let's have another one then." He leaned in, gripping her shoulders.

  His light spicy scent wafted around her. She saw his eyes close, his lips part, and at the last moment, she turned her face so he landed on her cheek instead.

  "Uh uh," he murmured, turning her face back with a forefinger under her chin. He placed his other hand at the small of her back and reeled her in closer.

  This time he connected full on, his tongue taking control of her mouth. It was a hard kiss, not as gentle as last night's, nor as sweet. Hotter. Passionate. Possessive. More devastating. She clutched his shirtfront, hung on, and lost herself in the sensuality of kissing tall, dark, and incredibly handsome.

  Even through the erotic distraction, she heard whistling and hooting. When they separated a group of teenage boys favored them with a few wisecracks as they sauntered past.

  "Well, I'm not sure we should be educating the younger generation like this," she joked, easing her fingers from his shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm mashing your clothing."

  "I'm sure they're not complete innocents if I remember my teenage years at all. And—" Glancing down at his shirt, he added, "That's all right." Then he raised his eyes to hers and winked.

  He was ravishingly sexy, the wink combined with his crooked smile. "I bet you were a very popular teenage boy."

  Replacing the ball cap on his head, he had the grace to look sheepish.

  At least he wasn't going to brag about his conquests. And for a man who traveled with a small bag, he certainly had a lot of expensive looking clothing. Last night he sported a linen jacket. Today a linen shirt. "Cubs cap?"

  "When in Rome," he replied.

  "You know, I don't even know where you're from. And," she hesitated, that cold-stomach feeling punching her again. "Are you married? Might as well get that question out of the way."

  "No, I'm not married. Are you?"

  "No, of course I'm not."

  "Good, then why don't we do our talking over lunch? All I've had today is about a dozen cups of coffee, and I'm wired. I'll tell you everything you want to know about me."

  "Well, you're kind of a mystery man. Like besides not even knowing what you do for a living, I wonder how you have all these linen clothes when all you carried into town was a soft, leather bag. They certainly weren't packed in that."

  "Come on. I made reservations at Riva. Hope that's okay." Sliding an arm around her waist, he propelled them toward the pier and the gourmet restaurant.

  For a mystery man, at least he had good taste.

  Chapter Four

  Jess asked the maitre d' for a table looking back toward the skyline. When they were seated, Lorren pointed out the general location of her apartment building. She said it was partially hidden by a larger one, but he could see a corner of it. Over a shared crab cake appetizer, he answered all her questions. Told her he was from outside Cataldo, Idaho. Because he hated to fly, his father drove him the sixty miles into Spokane, Washington to catch the Empire Builder.

  She ordered the shrimp ravioli, he the citrus glazed, ruby red trout.

  "But what do you do for a living?"

  "My family owns three ranches. I guess you could say it's all one ranch, but my father, my brother, and I all run our own spreads." He didn't plan to tell her about his other job. He'd be deployed again in a matter of days, and there was no sense in getting her involved in that part of his life. And anyway, he didn't want it to sound like he was looking for hero status. As an elite Army Ranger, he was heading for Afghanistan probably for the better part of a year to sixteen months. This trip to Chicago, a mixture of business and pleasure, was his last hurrah for a while.

  "Wow, you really are a cowboy."

  "Yeah, but we do pretty well. Even though I took the train, I could afford a plane ticket if I didn't hate flying so much." He smiled. Better to let her focus on the cowboy part.

  "And your clothing?"

  "I had it FedExed. Got here before I did," he informed her. "And I'm
twenty-eight," he offered as he picked up his fork and resumed eating.

  "Huh? Twenty-eight?" She winced.

  "Yeah. Why the face?"

  "I'm quite a bit older than you are, not that it matters really." She shrugged self-consciously.

  He cocked his head. "It doesn't. How old are you?"

  She pursed her lips.

  He reached over, plucked the fork away, and cradled her hand in his large palm. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

  "Well..."

  He brushed his thumb across the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. "Lorren? Look at me."

  "Thirty-two."

  Her amazing green golden eyes were guarded as if she were waiting for a show of disappointment from him. He quirked a smile and said, "You're a wonderful thirty-two."

  Her expression turned skeptical.

  "Just perfect," he added emphatically.

  Her shoulders dropped out of their stiff stance, and she finally smiled back.

  When their food arrived, they ate in silence. He liked that she didn't shy away from eating actual food. She was slender but didn't seem afraid to order more than a salad. And man, was she enjoying the ravioli.

  "Mm, this is so good." She closed her eyes, sighed, and licked her lips.

  It was one of the most sensuous sights he'd ever seen over a dining table.

  "Is yours okay?" she asked, pointing her fork downward at his plate.

  "Oh, yeah," he responded. "Watching you eat is amazing."

  "Um, well." She licked her lips again.

  Whew. Between the kiss and eating, the gloss was gone. In its place were rosy lips, soft and plump, and at this very moment being worried by cute white teeth, the two middle ones a little bigger than normal. He just sat there aroused and dumbfounded at how sexy the sight was. He shifted his gaze to her eyes, warm green eyes that acknowledged the same kind of interest.

  He heard the tinkling of ice cubes against the water goblets. The damned busboy refilled their glasses, the sound interrupting his carnal thoughts.

  She glanced up, smiling her thanks to the intrusive little prick.

  Didn't restaurant staff know better than to interfere in an erotic moment?

  Their mutual gaze fest was already interrupted, and now the waiter removed their plates and asked about dessert. They decided to share the warm chocolate volcano cake.

  To bring them both back down to earth, Jess said, "You know more about me than I know about you. Are you from Chicago?"

  She told him the exciting story of her life. About how she grew up in Winona, Minnesota and that her parents still lived there. About how she came to Chicago after college with a degree in Fine Arts, but no idea what to do with it. She'd settled in as a secretary in a large law firm before she ended up working in a smaller office as a paralegal while she went to law school.

  "So what kind of law do you do?"

  "My boss is a trusts and estates lawyer. You know, wills, pre-nups, post-nups."

  "Post-nups? Isn't it a little late after the wedding?"

  "Well, that's what I think, but my boss makes a lot of money on all of it."

  "That's what matters, I guess. What's his name?"

  "Hugh. Hugh Blandy."

  "Blandy? You're kidding." He narrowed his eyes in skepticism.

  She laughed. "No, I'm not. And he's anything but bland," she said with admiration in her voice.

  "Oh, really? Anything I should know about?" A possessive energy churned through his veins. Of course, he had no right.

  She tipped her head to one side, obviously not picking up on his inappropriate question.

  "I'm sorry, it's none of my business," he said quickly.

  "Oh, you mean am I sleeping with him? My God, no. He's gay!" She straightened her shoulders, then put her hand over her mouth and giggled. "Sorry to laugh, but thank you for being..."

  At that moment, the decadent dessert arrived.

  "Jealous?" he finished.

  "Well, no, not that, of course." Her cheeks flushed pink.

  Relief. He did feel relief, though he had no right to that either. Their gazes held. Heat flickered between them, crept up his neck. He licked his lips, not entirely sure what was happening. Jealous over a woman he'd known for twenty-four hours?

  "Coffee, ma'am, sir?"

  He blinked. This time he was saved by the waiter's interruption.

  "No, thanks," she whispered.

  He shook his head at the server, picked up his fork, and smiled at Lorren. He should be grateful for the interruption. This was getting a little heavy. She was just a beautiful woman he'd happened to meet. Nothing more.

  She cut the tension. "Let's try this, huh? Doesn't it look wonderful?" She took the first bite. "Mmm."

  Watching her eyes cross blissfully over the chocolate fudge that didn't quite make it completely into her mouth brought about his own blissful thoughts. He licked the corner of his mouth hinting that there was some chocolate on hers.

  Her blush and the peek at her pink tongue when it hooked out hardened him more painfully than he already was. He'd been semi-aroused since he'd first seen her outside. The day before she'd been buttoned up in a tight skirt and blouse, business-like but sexy, especially with those fuck-me stilettos. Today her curvy body was in a red-checked halter sundress. She didn't have a bra on if the hard, tight nipples pushing at the thin material in the restaurant's air conditioning were any clue. The skirt was full and came to mid-thigh, and her sandals today were ankle strapped flats. He hadn't been this aroused in the daytime in a long, long time. No, ma'am, I haven't!

  ***

  Lorren shivered in reaction to the change in temperature when they stepped outside the restaurant.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Ghah, I'd forgotten how hot and humid it was out here." She fanned her face with the flat of her hand. "The restaurant was so cold."

  "I noticed."

  "Hmm?"

  "I could tell you were cold." He slipped his forefinger under the halter strap at her collarbone and lifted it.

  She watched his finger, realizing that her popping nipples were quite visible under the thin material of her dress. "Oh."

  "That's an amazing dress. The little checks look so homespun. Like one of my mom's old aprons."

  "Well, thanks, I guess," she deadpanned.

  "I wasn't finished," he said. "But the style is all sex."

  She opened her mouth, closed it. "I just wore it because I knew it'd be hot today."

  "Mm hum. Well, thank you! I applaud your decision." He bowed formally and clicked his heels.

  She heated up. Inside and out. He was the sexiest man she'd met in a long time. Maybe in forever. Something had to be wrong with him. He hadn't burped, but maybe he farted regularly. Loudly and smellily. She chuckled to herself, doubting that smellily was even a word. But so far he hadn't done it. Maybe during sex. The laugh bubbled up and exploded out before she could stop it.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Oh, nothing. I'm just enjoying myself." There was no way she wanted him to know what she'd been imagining.

  "That's good. I always aim to please." He jauntily tapped the bill of his cap in acknowledgement.

  They strolled up the esplanade alongside the Pier. "And do you? Please, that is?" He sure was a pleasure to look at. That absolutely masculine face, shaded by the bill of the ball cap, topping a navy blue linen shirt and khakis drove her mad. He wasn't wearing cowboy boots or his Stetson, just brown tie, soft-soled shoes and the ball cap, but he was casual and elegant and sexy hot. Like a model. A masculine model, not one of those gay looking ones.

  "I think I do," he answered modestly. His arm tightened around her waist.

  Oh, he has to fart big time, she mused as she shrugged him off. Capering ahead, she pranced backward facing him and announced playfully. "You're too much. I think I need to take a deep breath. I'd tell you that you're too sexy for your shirt, but you'd get a big head."

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him. "Well,
something big anyway."

  "Oh nuts, I fell right into that, didn't I?" She chuckled.

  "Yeah, I'd say you did." They reached the end of the pier, and he steered her over to the railing. "Are you going to let me kiss your sweet chocolate mouth any time soon? Don't you think I redeemed myself for being late?" He crowded her, his hands on the railing on either side of her blocking her in and nuzzled the tip of her nose with his chin.

  Laughing again with lighthearted joy, she leaned back, shook her head, and let the breeze wild up her already unmanageable hair. The sun, the snap of the flags above them—it was glorious. Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, she said, "Isn't this a magnificent day?"

  He placed both palms on her cheeks and positioned her face.

  "It's not..." She didn't get to finish her sentence. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. This time his tongue didn't just spear, it attacked. It hadn't before. He'd been a gentleman. He wasn't now. His mouth opened wide, surrounding her lips, taking them. He drove her to the edge with that thick, hot, wet tongue and overwhelming senses already ratcheted up all afternoon.

  He released her lips. Crap.

  But no, they weren't finished. He re-angled his head and started in again stroking, thrusting his tongue in and out until all she could think about was how he'd do it with his cock. With a cry, high-pitched and delirious, she clenched her fingers in the shirt at his back and pressed, holding him as firmly as he was holding her. Every inch of their body fronts embraced, locked together as they were, thigh to thigh, bellies and chests fused to the other.

  She moaned into his mouth as her breasts flattened against his hard chest, their ache not assuaged one bit. They wanted more.

  His belt buckle molded a space at her belly, and it wasn't the only hard thing prodding her. Oh, my Lord, the length of his penis, the round shape of it pressed against her pussy. She rolled her hips, his answering groan heartening, arousing. She flexed her fingers open, dug her nails...

  Shrieks filled the air. They both jerked apart, but didn't separate completely, still enfolded in each other's arms. What in hell was that commotion about? She peeked around. About a million kids swarmed the plaza, running to the railing, laughing, screaming about who got there first. Holy crap. They'd been putting on a live sex show for a bunch of grade school kids. She ducked her head to his chest, rolling her forehead back and forth, felt him shaking with laughter.