Major Attraction (22 page)

“I get the picture.” She squelched the urge to gag at the crude topic of conversation. “You want me to write something about how good you are in bed.”

“I want every woman who reads your column to look at me and say she wants me. I don't want to read any more of your crappy advice about avoiding me.”

“It's not personal—”

“The hell it isn't! You write it right, Doc, or I'm going to tell that boyfriend of yours who he's really screwin'. I'll tell the world who you are. Then every sap on the street will stop you and tell you his pathetic story about how he can't get it up and how you have to fix it for him. Won't that be fun?” J.C. cringed at the image of total
strangers walking up to her on a street corner or stopping her at restaurants or knocking on her front door to share every lurid, personal detail about their sex lives. “I want to see it in tomorrow morning's paper. Got that?”

This went from creepy bad to impossibly worse. “I have columns coming out all week. Three of them have already gone to press. I can't stop them.”

Logistics didn't matter to this guy. Saving his studly reputation by shutting up Dr. Cyn did.

“One more bad word about me and I'll find a way to stop
you.
”

For a stunned second, she couldn't believe he'd hung up on her. By the time the silence registered, she was dumping her bag out on Ben's desk and rifling through all the junk she carried to find her card wallet. She flipped through the pages. Ethan's number… There! She dialed her cell and waited.

Terror, shock and anger had boiled down to the desperate need to hear Ethan's voice. To feel his protection. To know his steady strength was a contagious thing that gave her courage.

If he was there for her.

“Please answer,” she prayed. She hugged her arms tightly around herself and paced, two short steps to the left, three back to the right. His phone kept ringing. “Ethan, where are you?”

He wasn't there.

Click. “Ethan?”

Panic puffed out in an audible breath as his voice-mail message kicked in.

“It's J.C. I need you. He called me. Just now. At work. I mean, I'm by myself at the office and he got my cell number and he…” No, no. Too much. Too hysterical. She swallowed hard and tried to control the rambling out-
pouring of fear. “He said if I didn't…he would tell you…I can't stop the…”

The hope drained out of her on a long, waning sigh.

She took stock of her surroundings and grabbed hold of some common sense. Ethan was miles away. What could he do to help, even if he did hear her plea?

Her voice was clipped, almost businesslike now as she steeled herself to fight her own battle. “I'm sorry. Forget all that. I know you must be needed there. I hope Travis is okay. I'm sure you're busy. Tired. Worried. I've been thinking about you all day. I didn't mean to freak out. It's just late. I'm going home to get some sleep. Don't worry. I can take care of myself.”

She severed the connection, then turned off the phone completely. She didn't want to deal with any other calls right now. Not from her stalker. Not from Ethan. She couldn't handle the drama.

Instead she stuffed everything back into her bag. She probably ought to take her own advice and go get some sleep. Norman would be on duty. He could walk her up to her apartment and check for intruders before she locked herself in.

She picked up the armed forces recruitment brochures from Ben's desk. There was no need to stuff these back into her bag. She was done gathering information for her articles. Besides, the man pictured on the cover, with his dark blue dress coat and nickel-plated sword, reminded her of another tall, broad, well-postured Marine whom she didn't want to be missing any more than she had to tonight.

With a quick glance around the offices, she hurried back to her file cabinet and opened the middle drawer. She quickly thumbed through the folders, “M. Military.”

She pulled out the folder to drop the brochures inside
and paused. J.C. peeked over her shoulder as the creeping sense of being watched kicked in again. She looked back at the open folder.

The same brochures were already inside.

She normally asked Ben to assist with her research, but why was he duplicating her efforts? Or had her columns triggered an interest in signing up for the military? With Ben's interest in computers and other sorts of electronic gadgets, there was bound to be some sort of program that would pay him to get the education he wanted in exchange for serving a few years in the service.

Maybe it was just a freaky coincidence. Chunky Ben with the thick glasses and sweet demeanor certainly didn't seem the military type.

She shook her head, wondering why she was debating this at all.

“Go home, J.C.,” she advised herself. “Just go home.”

She tossed the brochures back on to Ben's desk, grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator.

After that phone call, anything and everything was going to look suspicious to her.

 

E
THAN MARKED OFF
the entire length of the hospital corridor as he listened to J.C.'s message a second time. Her fear, her pigheaded strength—her lack of faith in him—all came through loud and clear in her voice.

He spun a neat 180 and paced back toward Travis's private room.

I need you.

He needed her, too. He needed her to be safe.
I've been thinking about you all day.
He needed to hear those words again. He needed her to believe he was there for her, even though they were miles apart.

But, damn, she was a hard sell. The last line of her message said it all.

“No, you cannot take care of this yourself. Stop saying that!” He quickly dialed her number. “Answer the damn phone!”

Of course. He couldn't blame her for turning off her cell if that bastard had called her and made some kind of threat. And what office was she talking about? Where did she meet with and advise her clients? She'd never said.

Ultimately he had to settle for the same frustrating means of communication she had. He left a message. “I'll be there as soon as I can, honey. Keep your doors locked and don't let yourself be alone with anyone, anywhere. Especially after dark. Hell, don't go out after dark. Double hell. I'll be there before dark. I will be there.”

“Is there a problem, son?”

Retired Brigadier General Hal McCormick met Ethan in the doorway to Travis's room. He still wore his blond hair as short as the day he'd received his commission, though there was considerably more gray on top now.

Ethan looked into his father's weary eyes. “No, sir.”

“Then why are you cussing out your phone?”

“I'm not.” He made sure it was turned on and slipped it into his pocket. “I was trying to reach J.C. But there's no answer.”

“And J.C. would be…?”

“She's a girl. Josephine Gardner.” Ethan let the door close behind him and dropped the volume of his voice so as not to disturb the conversation Travis was having with their younger sister, Caitlin. “A woman I've been seeing. She's, um—”

Travis might never be too far out of it to offer up a smart remark. “She's that hot chick he met in the bar and gave Mom's ring to.”

“What?” Hal was justifiably shocked by the news. “Your mother's ring?”

Ethan strode to the foot of the bed and glared at his brother. Travis wore bandages along his jaw, on both arms, his torso and his right leg. His left leg was encased in a cast, sewn together with more than a dozen steel pins, and elevated with a complex set of cords and pulleys.

But the son of a gun was smiling. So whether it was painkillers or positive attitude talking, he deserved a little ribbing for opening his trap. “Excuse me, but the doctor said you're supposed to take it easy, not poke your nose into my business.”

“Hey, my leg's busted up, not my hearing. You shouldn't have confessed how you feel about her when I was in the recovery room if you didn't want me to hear.”

“You were still under the effects of the anesthesia. I was talking to pass the time.”

“It was entertaining to hear you trying to make sense of something that makes no sense.”

Ignoring the argument, Hal joined them, his tension visibly relieved. “So you're serious about this girl.”

“Ethan, that's wonderful.” Caitlin unfolded her long legs from the seat beside the bed and gave her oldest brother a hug. “It's about time you decided to have a personal life.”

Travis grinned from ear to ear. Apparently focusing on someone else's problem was good therapy for him. “Oh, he's serious enough. Been spending all his free time with her from what I hear. He just doesn't want to rush things because, despite her impulsiveness, J.C. isn't the type of woman who can be rushed. Seems she has some pretty stubborn opinions.”

Now Caitlin was getting into it. She winked at Ethan. “Gee. Who does that sound like?”

Ethan would have laid Travis out if he wasn't already stuck in a bed. “Did you get
any
sleep last night?”

Travis shrugged, then winced in pain. “What are you still doing here, big brother? She needs you.”

I need you.
Ethan felt a siren call to get back to J.C. as quickly as he could. Not just to put an end to those messages meant to intimidate her. But to love her. To make love to her. To prove to her once and for all that the reason they were so good in bed together was because…they were good together.

But he had a responsibility to his family, too. “I thought I was looking out for you.”

“I've got the finest doctors in the country looking out for me now. And if they can't cut it, these two will keep me in line.” Travis's expression got surprisingly serious. “I panicked when they first brought me in. I was hurtin' so bad I couldn't see beyond the moment. I needed that ass-whippin' you promised me to get my head on straight.”

Travis hadn't listened to sympathetic pleas, but like a true Marine, he'd responded to Ethan's stern reminder about duty to his country, his family and himself. His positive attitude could make the difference in his recovery, according to the surgeons who'd pieced him back together.

“You'd have come around soon enough,” Ethan assured him.

His brother waved aside the support. “I'm going to do more than walk again, Ethan,” he vowed. “I'm going to make it back to special forces. You'll see.”

Ethan's heart pounded a little harder in his chest at Travis's determined attitude. His bold confidence reminded Ethan of J.C. His feet shifted, as antsy as the rest
of him to get back to her before she got the idea she really could get through life without him.

Some of that emotion must have gotten out and shone on his face. Travis grinned. “What are you still doing here? Go.”

Fine. He was going already. “You sure you'll be okay?”

“Nothing a few months of physical therapy won't cure. Don't worry, bro. I'll be back in action.”

Ethan hugged his way around Caitlin to stand by Travis's side. “Don't push it too hard too soon. I like having you around. Even if you are a pain in the butt.” They shook hands. Even with an IV stuck in it, Travis's grip was as firm as he remembered. “Take care.” The handshake became a hug.

Then Travis pushed him away. “You know I will. Now go on, get out of here. Dismissed.”

“I outrank you. You can't dismiss me.”

Hal McCormick wisely knew when to step in and stop his sons' bickering. “I can. Dismissed, Marine. We'll hold down the fort without you.”

“Yes, sir.” The two men hugged. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, son.”

After one more round of goodbyes and assurances that Travis was in the clear for now, Ethan hurried out the door toward the parking lot.

He was only vaguely aware of his father dashing out the door and calling down the hall after him. “Say, does this girl of yours like to fish? Your mother liked to fish.”

“Dad!” He heard Caitlin dragging Hal back into the room. “You can't stop him now.”

No one could.

Ethan McCormick was a man on a mission.

 

Q
UANTICO
, V
IRGINIA
, was a major training base for the United States Marine Corps, the FBI and other security agencies. With the huge number of recruits, training classes and working units to negotiate, it had taken him a lot longer than he'd anticipated to secure clearance and track down the man he was looking for.

Corporal Juan Guerro.

Ethan hadn't taken time to put on his uniform or even shave. But there was no mistaking the rank and authority in his posture when the M.P. brought Guerro into the brig's interrogation room.

The black-haired man sported a pair of handcuffs, a split lip and a deer-in-the-headlights stare when he saw who was waiting for him. He charged the door as the M.P. closed it behind him. “Hey, you can't leave me in here with this guy!”

Ethan fully intended to take the cocky son of a bitch down a notch before he was through with him. Step one was making him understand he was a weasly coward.

“Sit down, Corporal,” he ordered.

With Ethan towering over him in both size and attitude, Guerro decided it was smarter to comply. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded at Guerro's lip. “I see somebody tried to bully you the same way you bullied my fiancée.”

“I was just trying to reason with her, sir.” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as Ethan circled behind him. “I thought you were going to bust me. But she could make you see that that kiss was all just a misunderstanding.”

Ethan snapped down beside Guerro's ear. “You left bruises on her arm. I don't understand that at all.”

“I did? I'm sorry.” He was squirming now. “I didn't mean to. I'm…sorry.”

Straightening, Ethan continued slowly pacing around the table. He intended to stop J.C.'s troubles right here.
“You will be. I've reported you to D.C.P.D. as well as the military police. Assault. Making terroristic threats. Willful destruction of property. Illegal possession and discharge of a firearm within the city limits—”