Her Sexy Marine Valentine (4 page)

He thumbed some dirt off her nose.

Great. So attractive. Should have washed her face or at least looked in a mirror before she opened the door. She'd caught a glimpse of him running up the street and had stood staring until he'd jarred her to her senses by approaching her house.

Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about him making moves on her, given her messed-up appearance.

He was staring at her again as if she were crazy. Had he been saying something?

“Okay. Deal.” She held out her hand and pretended to have been thinking about whether or not she wanted to do this.

His hand swallowed hers. It was so big and rough and she wondered how it would feel on—

“What are you working on?” he asked.

It took a few seconds for her to clue in to what he'd said. No sex. Just friends.

Keep telling yourself that.

“Bathroom fixtures arrived. I'm laying tile so I can put everything together.”

“I can help you with that.” He glanced down at his sweat-soaked shirt. “Forgot I might need a shower.”

She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Seems silly for you to get cleaned up only to get dirty again.”

Dirty. Why did everything out of her mouth sound like sexual innuendo?

Because those shorts were tight against his—

Stop it
.

She pushed away the idea of stripping that tank off him and running her hands across the tight abs underneath. Far, far away.

Until she was alone, later, in her bed.

He's staring again!

“Right. Tile.” She opened the door wider.

“Cool.” He stepped past her and into the house. “Is the bathroom on the second floor?”

“Yeah. First door on the right.”

The man's backside as he climbed the stairs was a sight to behold.

Free labor. Free labor. Free labor.

No, this wouldn't be torture at all.

4

B
RODY
USED
A
rag to clean the last of the grout off the guest bathroom floor. The black-and-white hexagon tiles were dizzying up close, but when he stood and backed toward the door it made the bathroom appear bigger than it was.

“It's an optical illusion,” Mari said from behind him. “And you did that so fast. I can't believe it.”

“I put down floors in my grandmother's house the last time I was on leave. She wanted tile and wood, so I learned a lot through trial and error. Every summer from about the time I was eleven until I went into the Marines after high school, I worked for my uncle's construction company.”

It was one of the final chances he'd had to be with his grandmother, and he was glad it was a happy memory. She'd died from complications from a stroke later that year. As her only grandson, and with his mom gone, his grandmother left him her house, which he'd sold. That place had nice memories for him, but the offer had been good. And it would be several more years before he'd be able to pick where he wanted to live. Probably not until he retired from the military. He missed her—she'd been the one constant in his life when he was growing up. Well, that and working with his dad's brother. But his grandmother had been such a solid female influence, and one of the kindest women he'd ever known. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. Best not to start thinking about the past.

“I brought you some water, I didn't know you'd be done so fast.” She handed him the bottle. Her pink bikini top was snug against her breasts and he had to force himself to look away. She was going to be his fake girlfriend, not the real one. It wouldn't pay for him to act on his attraction to her. Keeping it simple was how he made it through each day. Work, eat and sometimes sleep.

Her head cocked. She was watching him.

“So it needs to dry overnight, and then we can start moving in the cabinets and stuff. Is there anything else we should get done tonight?” He chugged down the water.

“You've done so much already, thank you.” She handed him another bottle of water and took the empty from him. But her eyes were on the room behind him. He stepped around her, so she could have a better view.

“Wow. This is...wow. You really are fantastic at this. I mean, beggars can't be choosers and all of that, but I wasn't expecting it to look so professional. I'd hoped, but...this would have taken me at least a week and it wouldn't have been nearly as good. I feel like I should pay you.”

“No,” he said quickly. He really needed her to help with his CO problem. “I mean, we have a deal and I don't mind. To be honest, I like to stay busy.” When you slept only an hour or two a night, it left a person with a lot of free time. His landlord had been so pleased with what he'd done to the house he was living in, she'd knocked another fifty bucks a month off his rent. He still wanted to do the landscaping for her, but that wasn't possible until spring.

“You didn't answer my question,” he said.

She glanced back at him.

“About needing anything else done tonight?”

Her eyebrow rose, and he'd give anything to know what she was thinking. From the expression on her face, he wondered if she might have taken his question the wrong way. As in sexually.

Nope. He couldn't let his mind trip down that path, or he'd never survive the next week.

“There's always something to do around here, but it's almost nine. If you have time tomorrow night, maybe you could help me replace those fixtures. Meanwhile, the plumbing should be finished in the kitchen by Friday, until then I'm going to paint the bedrooms up here.”

“I could paint one of the bedrooms tonight.”

She put a hand on his arm. “You have to be exhausted. You worked all day. It can wait, and honestly, painting is the one thing I do fairly well. I'd rather use your help on some of the more difficult projects like the drywall.” While still holding onto his arm with one hand, she reached back to point downstairs with the other. Her bikini top slipped just a bit. Her luscious tan globes were absolutely mouth-watering. A little farther and he'd see—

No. He forced himself to look away again.

That didn't keep her touch on his arm from sending heat to his groin. When he glanced at her hand on his forearm, she lifted it away as if he was hot to the touch.

“Sorry,” she said. “I—I know some people don't like to be touched. I wasn't thinking.”

He shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

Except when you do it
. What was that? The urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless was overwhelming.

Have to get out of here now
.

“Okay. Right. It's late. You probably need your rest. I'll be back tomorrow to give you a hand,” he said quickly. Then he was down the stairs and out the door before she could say anthing else. He hoped she hadn't seen the erection tenting his shorts.

Jerk. She probably thought he couldn't handle the soft touch of a woman.

You are a jerk and you can't handle her touch
.

Her hand had been so fragile and small against his arm. What would it be like to feel her hands on his— If he had to spend time with her over the next several weeks, he couldn't let his thoughts get away from him. She needed a friend, not some sex-starved Marine who wanted in her bed more than he'd wanted anything in a really long time.

Damn. This was going to be difficult.

Friends. A means to an end. No way could he allow himself to think about her like that. She was too, too...

His front door slammed behind him. He'd been so preoccupied he hadn't realized he'd crossed the street.

That's what happened when you thought about women. They were a distraction. Definitely one he couldn't afford.

He stripped as he approached the shower, and a few seconds later he stood under the cold blast of water.

It didn't help.

His cock hardened and he wrapped his fist around it. He imagined it was Mari's small, delicate hand satisfying him, and wondered what it would be like to strip that bikini top off her and kiss those breasts. Even better, to suck and squeeze those beautiful globes.

He pounded the wall with his other hand. The marble rattled.

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

* * *

W
HAT
DO
YOU
wear to your fake boyfriend's work event?

Mari picked at the paint under her nails while she stared at her closet full of clothes. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could never quite get all the paint off her nails. And using turpentine at this point would only make her smell rank.

Brody had helped her paint the last of the upstairs bedrooms the night before. They'd also installed the new fixtures. The man was a champion. For the first time she'd been able to take a hot bath thanks to him replacing the hot water heater. She'd been showering in the closet-size downstairs bathroom, where the hot water only worked when it wanted to.

In the past few days—well, nights, really—he'd made her rambling money pit more of a home. When she'd showed him the plan she had devised on how to tackle the massive project, he'd given her a sweet smile. Then he'd revised it. What he'd come up with made a lot more sense. Maybe it was his Marine training, but he was extremely disciplined and organized. He put her to shame, but in a good way.

And once he started a job, he didn't finish until it was done. He was like a machine. He prioritized and completed the projects that had an immediate benefit to her, and it had made a world of difference to her life.

The toughest part was the ogling. She tried so hard not to stare at his muscles when he was on the job, but it was tough.

Really tough.

Who wouldn't stare? The man was an Adonis. Not a very chatty one, but he did like music. They agreed on most bands, which was surprising. Gary had hated her indie music. But not Brody. Every once in a while, his head would nod to the beat. Sexiest thing ever.

Who was she kidding? Everything about the guy was sexy.

That she hadn't kissed him yet was nothing less than a miracle. Every night he filled her dreams. But she refused to act on any of them. He'd made it clear, more than once, that she was just a good friend. And frankly, she needed every friend she could get. In fact, she'd done everything she could to make their time together as pleasurable...no, not pleasurable, as nice and relaxed as possible.

And today was her chance to show him how much she appreciated everything he'd done for her.

She picked up another top and held it in front of her.

Not this one.

This was exasperating. She had nothing to wear, and she hadn't had time to shop.

The new bath had been heavenly, but she'd stayed in too long and now Brody would be at her door any minute now.

When the sun was out, the temperature would reach seventy-five, but she didn't want to wear shorts. First, while her top half was somewhat tanned from working out in the backyard clearing out brush, her lower half was as white as white could be. And second, she hadn't shed the ten pounds she'd gained after her breakup with Gary.

Even with all the exercise while working on the house, those pounds of chocolate sea-salt caramels she'd eaten had added up. That was the main culprit responsible for the wardrobe problem she was currently having. A lot of her casual clothes were a bit tight. She found a pair of jeans and laid down on the bed to zip them up.

When she tried to sit up, they cut into her a bit.

Oh, well. I hear breathing is highly overrated
.

“Hey, Mari, you ready? Where are you? Please tell me you aren't still painting the—” Brody paused. “I...oh, sorry.”

Her hands flew to her not-so-covered breasts as he turned away.

The surprise on his face, and then the quick appreciation he'd shown, had her feeling a little better about her supertight jeans. Over the last few days she'd caught him checking her out as if he were interested, but he never tried anything.

Silly girl, you don't want him to try anything
. At least she kept telling herself that.

No more men
.

She had to get through repairing this house. Then selling it. And maybe after that she could think about dating again.

Maybe. Probably never.

Back to the situation at hand. He'd seen her half-naked.

That's not embarrassing at all
.

“I didn't realize you'd moved into this room. I thought you were staying downstairs,” Brody said as he trailed down the hallway.

“Since we finished the master bath,” she called out, “I decided I'd just move up here.” She found a bra and a vintage T-shirt. “And don't leave. Give me two seconds. I want to make sure you think I look all right.”

Brody cleared his throat, but didn't say anything. She stepped into the hallway and spied him staring over the banister, looking down at the foyer.

“It's okay. I'm dressed,” she said. “You can come back in.”

He looked everywhere but at her.

“How is this outfit? It's a picnic, so casual, right? But do you think this is how the other women will dress?”

“You're beautiful,” he said without ever laying eyes on her. He gazed up at the ceiling as if he was on the hunt for cracks in the plaster. There weren't any—he'd fixed them all. He'd put her new bed together a few hours ago, while she'd been downstairs making them sandwiches. Later, when she'd gone upstairs she'd found the bed made with clean sheets and the Pottery Barn comforter she'd bought.

It was those thoughtful things he did that made her heart skip a beat. Even though she was trying her best to ignore it.

His hands were behind his back and he was still staring at the ceiling.

She laughed.

“They were just boobs, Brody. You can look at me now.”

“They were very nice boobs,” he said. His eyes narrowed and she had a feeling he was having a tough time looking at her. “You should be proud.”

She laughed again. “I think there might be a compliment in there somewhere. I wasn't feeling so great about myself as I was getting dressed, so thank you.”

His brow furrowed. “But you're incredible. How could you be down on yourself?”

She sucked in a breath, unable to breathe out. The man had no idea what those words meant to her.

He smiled a big, warm smile and she was momentarily distracted, stunned. Oh yes, he'd said something lovely.

“Thanks. So, I want to fit in, but I have no idea how people who usually wear uniforms think what's appropriate in an everyday situation.”

He wore khaki shorts, a gray T-shirt that fit tight against his shoulders, and sneakers. He could have graced the cover of a fitness magazine. And he definitely did not have winter-white legs. As far as she could tell, most of him was a golden tan. She'd seen him running without his shirt a few times and wondered how many wrecks he'd caused from folks ogling him.

“I've never been to one of these events. I usually try to find an excuse to get out of it, but you look great. We should go. The last thing I need is the CO giving me a hard time about being late. The man lives to make my life difficult.”

“Well, we can't let that happen.” She realized she wanted to impress his CO. “But I still need to change my top one last time. I just thought of the perfect blouse to wear.”

He turned and was almost downstairs before he said, “I'll meet you in the truck.”

It had been a while since any man had taken notice of her, and she had to admit it felt good to have Brody's appreciation. She grabbed a frilly white top that had layers of lace and paired it with the jeans. It felt more beachy and feminine. And more than ever she wanted to look good on Brody's arm.

Even if all of this was fake.