Blue Forever (Men in Uniform) (9 page)

When DeAnne was little and still adored and looked up to him, she’d sit on his lap and gingerly touch his many scars, one by one, and he’d boast to her about how he’d acquired each of them. It wasn’t until much later she’d understood why her mother got so upset by that ritual.

Making love with Kip, her fingertips had skimmed over the familiar hard, smooth ridges of flesh.

She’d ignored them tonight. But she wouldn’t tomorrow.

If it quacked like a duck . . .

So, yeah. It was a very good thing he was leaving her behind when they reached the coast. She would let him go, and she wouldn’t even watch him walk away. Because if she did, she had the terrified, sinking feeling she’d run after him.

And beg him to stay.

15

Kip jerked awake, instantly alert.

And knew at once he’d fucked up.

Sunlight was streaming in through the cracks all around the shed’s primitive wooden door.

“
Shit
,” he cursed under his breath.

And a dog was barking its fool head off. The sound was coming closer by the second.

“God
damn
it.”

By his side, DeAnne stirred to life. “Kip? What’s wrong?”

He slid from her arms and rolled up to a crouch, noting thankfully that he only felt a twinge from his leg. He reached for his rucksack. “We overslept. I think we’ve got company coming.”

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up, checking to make sure her clothes were all fastened. “What do we do?”

She looked so adorable with her hair all mussed and her face still flushed from their long night of lovemaking, he almost forgot the danger. He wanted to rip those ugly peasant pants right off her and go down—

Damn it! That was exactly the kind of thinking that had gotten them into this predicament in the first place. Or rather,
not
thinking.

Apparently she didn’t suffer from the same stars in her eyes. She was already on her feet and rolling up the space blanket. He slipped into his shoulder holster, tucked the M9 into the pocket, and pulled his T-shirt over it. The gun was a last resort. No way would he use it on a civilian.

He just hoped it was a civilian coming for them.

He only heard one dog barking. Presumably his old pal. With any luck the mutt was full of carrots and dried meat after spending the night in the food storage cellar, and feeling less than feisty. Though it didn’t exactly sound that way.

He could hear the farmer yelling at the dog. Maybe the human hadn’t yet realized there were intruders in his shed.

“We need to get out of here, pronto,” Kip said, keeping his voice low. He put an eye to a crack in the door, scanning the fields for a visual on the farmer and his dog. There was the dog. No farmer yet.

“Ready when you are,” DeAnne said from behind him. He glanced back and saw she’d put the peasant jacket on over his spare T-shirt and her puffy shoulder bag was strapped across her chest. That was quick.

She handed him his rucksack, all packed up.

Ready for what, was the question.

He took it, hiking it onto his shoulders as he cracked the door open. The baying dog was coming at them full tilt, his brown spotted coat shining in the morning sun. The farmer was still out of sight, though his shouts were getting louder.

They’d have to take their chances with the dog.

He slid his sheathed knife out of its pocket on the side of the rucksack, and handed it to her. “Here. Put this in your bag.”

She shook her head. “I’m not hurting a dog.”

“I’ll try to draw it off. But use the knife if it attacks you. Think about the rabies shots you’ll need otherwise.”

She made a horrified face.

“Exactly.” He thrust the weapon at her, then grabbed her other hand as they slipped out the door as unobtrusively as possible, hurried around the shed’s corner, and took off at a sprint toward the orchards.

Running from a dog was never a good idea. He could hear it gaining speed, barking nonstop, its big paws crunching leaves and scattering dirt as it pounded after them.

They made it to the sheltering grove of fruit trees and plunged into the shady wood, the canopy above heavy with sweet-smelling blossoms and thick with late spring growth. Tangles of low bushes screened them from view as they ran a zigzag path through the orchard, heading down the slope of the mountain. Kip hoped the undergrowth would discourage the dog from following. No such luck. It slowed down but kept coming.

They’d have to stop and make a stand against the beast. They’d left the farmer far behind, but the dog’s infernal racket would eventually lead him right to them. Along with family and neighbors and the local constabulary, no doubt. Kip was hoping the authorities would believe for a day or two longer that he’d perished in the cliff accident. Or at least long enough to get DeAnne back to Sanya and safety. Which wasn’t going to happen if that farmer found them.

No choice. The dog had to be neutralized.

He shifted the Beretta to the front of his waistband as they ran.

DeAnne glanced at it aghast.

“Only if it’s us or the dog,” he assured her.

“But the noise,” she puffed. “Take the knife back.” She reached into her bouncing shoulder bag.

He put a hand to her wrist as they ran. “No. You keep it.”

“But how are you—”

“I’ll think of something.”

Hopefully
.

The dog had almost caught up to them.

Kip spotted a fallen tree lying on the ground next to the path up ahead, its branches still fairly intact, if sideways. “How good are you at climbing trees?” he asked, veering toward it.

“What?” she asked between panted breaths.

Slowing to a halt, he pushed her toward a thick, sturdy limb that jutted up into the air. “Climb as high up as you can,” he ordered, then in a single motion slid his rucksack around to shield his front, scooped up a broken-off tree branch as a weapon, and spun around to meet the dog head on.

It came at him like a hellhound, paws pumping and tongue lolling sideways from its open mouth. Its eyes were bright and ears pricked. He heard DeAnne start to scream his name, then slap her hands over her mouth.

Kip swung the branch upward in defense, but the dog was faster. With a howl, it lunged, hitting him square on the backpack, then tumbled away on impact.

Kip went over backward, landing flat on his back.
“
Oof!
”
The branch flew from his hand.

He cursed. Prepared to be ripped to shreds by long teeth and sharp claws.

The dog leapt on top of him. Its drooling jaws opened.

DeAnne started to scream.

Kip grabbed for its neck . . . just as its long, sandpapery tongue slobbered happily up his cheek and over his nose.

It was
licking
him.

DeAnne’s scream morphed into a muffled squeal of surprise. Kip was shocked mute, then started to laugh as his face became covered in dog glop.

“Hey! Ew, gross! Hey! Down, boy! Off! Get the—”

Between stifled peals of laughter, DeAnne called out something in Chinese, and threw a stick several yards away. Immediately, the dog hopped off his chest and bounded after it.

Kip jumped to his feet, wiping the slime off his face with his T-shirt. “Jesus. I was so
not
expecting that.”

She was still laughing. “You’d maybe prefer big chunks of your flesh missing?”

“Ha ha.” He glanced in relief at the dog retrieving the stick. “What did you say to it, anyway?”

“Fetch. I think. I may have told it to adopt us.”

He wheezed out a laugh. “Uh-oh.”

The dog bounced back with the stick in its mouth, doing a full-body tail-wag as he offered it up to Kip. But when he tried to take it to throw, the dog hung on, daring him with its eyes.

“Really?
Really?
After you scare the crap out of me you expect me to play?”

“Awww. He likes you.”

But who could resist an ugly mug like that?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just for a minute.” He pulled on the stick, yanking it back and forth, and broke into a smile playing tug with the dog again. Yeah, he could definitely go for having a dog. “Poor ol’ boy. Doesn’t that farmer ever play with you?”

He managed to get the stick away from it, and tossed it as far away as he could through the trees. The dog took off after it.

“We should get moving,” he said to DeAnne as he watched it disappear into the underbrush. “It may follow us for a while, but at least it’s not barking anymore.” He glanced over at her.

He froze.
Oh, God
.

She had
The Look
on her face. Gazing at him with sweet adoration, pink hearts embroidered on her imaginary white satin sleeves. He could practically hear the picket fence being hammered into place around him.

Oh, no.

He wagged a finger at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” Picking up his rucksack, he swung it back onto his shoulders. “I am not that guy.”

The Look evaporated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. But don’t go there. I’m just saying.” He started to walk. “Last night was fun—” He halted abruptly, turned to her, and grasped her arms. “Hell. Not fun. Last night was incredible.” He pulled her against his chest and put his lips to her forehead. “I can’t remember ever being quite that turned on before in my life. You were—Ah, hell.”

Suddenly swamped by the sensual memory of her melting into him, under him, around him, he swallowed heavily, wrapped his hand around her jaw, and kissed her. Instantly, he was hard. And instantly he wanted her again.
And again
.

The dog pranced up with the stick, butting its nose into their legs, startling him back to reality.
And saving him from himself
.

She was far too tempting. He broke the kiss and held her mouth away from his. Just inches, but enough that his lips couldn’t reach her. She looked a little shell-shocked. About the same way he felt. He reached down with his other hand, grabbed the stick from the dog, and whipped it back into the underbrush. The dog charged off.

“Princess,” he began.

“No.” She shook her head free from his hold. “Kip— You seem to have gotten the wrong impression about me, somehow. About us. About . . . whatever this is between us.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Well.” She took a step back from him. “Just in case, let me set the record straight.”

“All right.” Mentally, he prepared his usual let-her-down-easy lecture. He really liked DeAnne—
a lot
—and didn’t want to see her hurt. Or even disappointed. Though that was probably inevitable at this point.

She took a breath. “Truly, I have no interest in pursuing any kind of relationship with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he began on autopilot, “I—”

Wait.

What?

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You are very handsome and sexy, and smart, and you obviously love dogs,” she said with a lopsided grin, glancing after the mutt.

She turned back, and before he could even think of a response to that, she continued. “And you’re right. Last night was . . . far more than amazing.” Her cheeks blazed pink for a quick second. “But, um, you’re not really my type. So you don’t have to worry about me having any inappropriate fantasies about you. Or us.” Her nose twitched. “And by inappropriate, I mean anything involving exchanging keys, or phone numbers, and the like.” She smiled. “So rest easy.”

If he weren’t such a seasoned intelligence officer, trained to hold his face perfectly neutral when taken unawares, he was pretty sure his jaw would have dropped.

He wasn’t so egotistical as to think he was— Okay, maybe he was that egotistical. After last night, and the way she’d given him The Look, naturally he thought . . .

Clearly, he was wrong.

“Okay,” he managed, praying his voice sounded normal and relieved. Which was absolutely, unequivocally, what he felt. Total relief. “That, um, that works for me.”

She nodded pleasantly. “I had a feeling it would.”

With that, she turned and started downhill, heading for the path that would take them off the mountain and eventually down to the coast. Where they would part company.

The dog bounded up, sans stick, and ran an excited circle around him, then trotted off to tag along beside DeAnne.

Traitor
.

Kip huffed out a breath, feeling unreasonably irritated—and imprudently challenged—as he struck out after her.

What the hell was
that
all about?

He couldn’t imagine why he was feeling so damn annoyed. This was a dream scenario. A hot woman and hotter sex, with literally zero strings attached. What more could a man ask for?

Nothing, that’s what.

This was good.

He was good.

It was all good.

And there was no way in hell he was going to demand an explanation. He would just smile like hell and count his damn blessings.

Fuck
.

“Hey!” he called, striding off after her. “What the hell do you mean, I’m not your type?”

16

Oh, dear. Now she’d done it.

DeAnne cringed inwardly. In her attempt to set the record straight, she’d gone and involved Kip’s male ego. That had been a colossal mistake. Almost as colossal as his ego.

She did not slow her pace.

Well, he could just deal with it like an adult. As he had expected
her
to do. She rubbed her cheek to keep it from twitching.
Last night was fun, princess
, she mimicked in her head.
But I am not that guy
.

No darn kidding.

“Princess, wait.” He strode up beside her and reached for her hand.

She glared at him. “I am
not
a princess.”

“Whoa.” He held up his palms. “Okay, baby, I—”

She glared harder. He was really pressing his luck.

“Okay,
DeAnne
, sweetheart . . . I can call you that, right? Considering how well we know each other now?”

She stopped abruptly, and he followed suit. The dog did so, too, then sat down, tail wagging in the dirt, and peered up at them.

Realizing her hands were balled into fists, she uncurled them, crossed her arms over her abdomen, and stuck her hands under her armpits. She didn’t know why he was upsetting her so much.

Okay, fine. She did. She hated that he was right, and saw right through her façade. And yet
he
was angry, just because she was honest?
She
was the one who should be angry!

Instead, she was just hurt.

She schooled her features. “Yes, Kip. We do know each other quite well now. At least physically. And yes, being with you was undoubtedly the best—”

Again, she stopped abruptly. No sense inflating his colossal ego any more than it already was. “But none of that has any bearing on the future—our future. Of which we have none. You’ve made that clear. Correct?”

His eyes grew stormy. Make that
more
stormy. “Correct. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

Why did he keep picking at this? Whether or not he was her type was completely irrelevant.

She turned and started trekking down the mountain again. “I don’t see that it has any bearing.”

“I do.” He didn’t miss a step. “Because you’re lying.”

“I. Don’t. Lie,” she enunciated.
Unlike some people
.

“All right. Deluding yourself, then. I am
exactly
your type, and you know it.”

She snorted.

“You like me, princess. You
more
than like me. You’re just afraid to admit it out loud. Why?”

Suddenly, the dog’s ears pricked up, it gave a yip, and bounded off, heading back the way they’d come. She turned and watched it go, walking backward for a few steps, then swung back around to continue downhill out of the forest, back toward the steamy jungle below.

Lord. This was not a discussion she wanted to have. She exhaled. “Let’s just say there are issues there, and leave it at that.”

He kept pace with her. “Let’s not. What issues?”

She shot him an exasperated glance. “I can’t see that my issues are any of your business.”

“Of course they’re my business, when they affect our relationship. I’m your lover, DeAnne, and—”

“You have got to be kidding!” she said, almost choking. “Just thirty seconds ago you were all don’t-even-go-there- I’m-not-that-guy with me.”

He said, irked, “Yeah, well, it was the look you were giving me. Like you were already planning our wedding.”

“Oh, puh-
lease
.”

“I have no interest in getting married. Not now. Probably not ever.”

“Doesn’t affect me.”

“It could.”

“No, it couldn’t.” She was about to tell him to just leave it alone, already, when he dropped a bomb.

“What if I wanted it to? Affect you. I mean, what if I want to keep seeing you? Later. After all this is over and we’re back in the States?”

She whipped her head around and stared over at him, openmouthed. And tripped.

He caught her by the arms and kept her from tumbling, dragging her to a halt.

A billion thoughts crashed through her mind in those few seconds, a chaotic soup of conflicting emotions.

“Why?” she finally demanded. “For the great, no-strings sex, I suppose?”

He regarded her evenly, but his eyes were anything but calm. She knew just as many conflicting thoughts were going through his mind. He just didn’t want to show it.

Why?

At length, he said, “What’s the right answer, princess? Yes or no?”

“The truth,” she shot back.

But did she really want to hear the truth? Probably not. Either way was an epic trap.

“No,” he said, and her heart sank. “Not just for the great sex. Though that’s certainly part of it. I like you, DeAnne. You intrigue me. And we seem to agree on certain key issues.”

Her heart sank further. A ringing endorsement if ever she’d heard one. “Such as marriage,” she stated.

“For instance.”

Wow. He could at least try to lie to her at the right time.

She took a deep breath. “But you’re wrong. I’m not against marriage.” She tore her gaze away from his, looked down at her dusty shoes, and admitted, “I’d really like to get married. Someday.”

He was silent for several long moments. “Okay. So, just not to me.” It wasn’t a question. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

He was like that darn dog and the stick. Always coming back to that. Maybe his ego was more fragile than colossal.

“Kip, believe me, it’s not you, it’s—”

“Oh,
God
, spare me the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech,” he said impatiently. “What’s the real, no-bullshit, no psycho-babble reason?”

He actually sounded upset. Why, she couldn’t fathom. He’d just told her he had no interest in a real relationship with her! But if he wanted a straight answer, she’d give him one. Not that he’d accept it.

“Because,” she said, “you’re a Marine.”

He snorted. Then he saw that she was serious. His face went stony. “I asked you that once before. You denied having a problem with the Marines.”

“No, I denied having a problem with
you
.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “All right, then. Spill it. What’s so terrible about the Marines?”

“
The
Marines? Not a thing.
Men
in the Marines?” She battled back a flood of emotions. Mostly bad ones. “Plenty.”

She did
not
want to talk about this with him. With anyone, really. She whirled, and started marching through the underbrush. “When are we going to get to the trail again? Is this even the right direction?”

He was in front of her, blocking her path, before she could draw a breath.

“Okay, so what have you got against
men
in the Marines?” he said between his teeth. “Because I sure as hell didn’t notice any aversion on your part last night.”

“I do
not
want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do! Is it because we’re too low class for you? Is that it? A wealthy socialite FSO is too good for the likes of us lowly grunts? Except to fuck, of course. We’re good enough for that.”

Her face burned with indignation. “Kip, move aside.”

“No.”

“I mean it. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He leaned way down into her personal space. “And I don’t give a flying shit what you want. Answer the goddamn question!”

His words, his tone, even his posture, were all sickeningly familiar. She swallowed down the bile and drew a sharp breath.

“And
that
”—she poked her finger into his chest hard enough to push him back—“is
exactly
what I have against Marine men. You are nasty, violent”—she poked again—“arrogant thrill seekers”—another poke—“who just can’t
wait
for the next battle, so you’re always picking fights”—poke—“and you
lie
—”

“DeAnne, what the—”

An even harder poke. “And you
cheat
on your wife”—poke—“and you
desert
your kids.” She gave him one last, big, five-finger poke that was more like a shove. “All you Marines do is
hurt
the people you’re supposed to
love
and take
care
of.” Her voice cracked when she finished with, “And
that’s
what I have against men who are Marines!”

Kip gaped down at her, stunned speechless.

To her horror, she realized there were tears streaming down her face. “Damn it,” she muttered, and swiped them off. She whirled away from him and started running blindly.

Immediately, she felt his hands on her shoulders from behind, pulling her to a gentle halt. “Sweetheart, stop. You’re heading right into the bushes.”

She swiped at her face again, which was just as wet this time, and shuddered out a mortified sob. “Told you I had issues.”

He didn’t try to turn her, just tugged her gently back against his chest and put his arms around her from behind. He pushed out a long breath, stirring her hair.

“Your husband?”

Had she been so transparent?
Well, duh
.

“No. Father.”

He grunted. “Bastard.”

“Yeah.”

“You understand, not all Marines are like that.”

Tears continued to leak out, and she sniffed them away. “In my head, yes. My heart, not so much.”

He made a noise low in his throat. “Well. That explains a lot.”

She couldn’t believe she’d just tossed her emotional cookies all over him. She had to get hold of herself. This was not his problem.

She hiccoughed. “And for the record, I’m not a wealthy socialite. I was raised by a mom who had to work two jobs just to pay the rent.”

His breath stirred her hair again. “Sorry. I made assumptions based on your appearance. Stupid of me.”

She thought about that. She’d worked so hard all her life to project that false image of herself—to appear privileged, sophisticated, well-educated. And had worked even harder to achieve it in reality. So she wouldn’t be tainted in people’s minds by her crummy past. Funny, she’d never considered that image might be doing the opposite with some people—driving them away from her. Isolating her. Was that why she always felt alone?

Maybe it was time to downgrade the picture a little.

“It’s true about the fucking, though,” she said, shocking them both. “You are good at that.”

After a wry cough, he asked, “You talking about me, or Marines in general?”

“You,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming. She turned in his embrace, putting her arms around him and burying her face against his chest. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. You don’t need this right now.”

He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough go. That sucks.”

“Good thing you’re getting rid of me today once we reach Sanya, huh?”

She felt his lips brush her hair. “Not how I look at it. DeAnne, I meant what I said about seeing you later, in the States.”

What could she say to that? Every warning bell in her head was going off.

And yet, she was torn. She really had loved sleeping with him. And he did seem different from her father, for the most part. But . . .

“Kip, just because my issues are out in the open doesn’t mean they went away. And we haven’t even started talking about yours.” She held up a hand. “Not that I want to. The point is, why start something we both know isn’t going anywhere?”

He kissed her hair. “Why does it have to go anywhere? It’s nice right where it is.”

“We’re back to the great, no-strings sex, aren’t we.” But this time there was no heat in the accusation. Not the angry kind, anyway.

She felt his smile against her temple. “Maybe.”

“You are such a m—”

“
Watch it
.
”

“Man.”

“Hmm. I seem to recall you liking that part about me . . .”

She smiled against his chest. “Maybe.”

They fell silent, and for a few minutes just stood there under a canopy of sweet-fragrant white blossoms in an orchard in China, holding each other. So much potential; so little future.

But no matter what happened, she knew she would remember this moment for the rest of her life.

“Anyway,” he said at length, “who knows if I’ll even make it off this island. I could be spending the next twenty, thirty years in a Chinese prison. Dating may be a moot point.”

She knew it was a very real possibility. The Chinese didn’t take kindly to spies. But she just couldn’t allow herself to think of him locked away in one of those awful places.

“Don’t say that. You’ll make it back to the States.”

“Tell you what. If I do, promise me one date. We can both make up our minds then.”

She swallowed. It seemed a small concession. An added incentive for both of them to make it out of here. “One date?”

“Dinner and a movie.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “And breakfast. What do you say?”

But before she even had a chance to think about her answer, they suddenly heard shouts in the distance. Male voices, harsh and excited. And a dog barking.

She and Kip jerked apart, their eyes meeting in alarm.

“Damn it to hell,” he ground out. “I knew that dog was trouble.”

“But how could it—?”

“Doesn’t matter. They found us.”