The Gunny & The Jazz Singer (Birchwood Falls #1) (9 page)

"Not any longer." Butch
walked over to the bar, turned, and just stood there watching them, creeping
her out.

"Do you want to leave?"

She heard the raw anger in his
voice. "No. I can have dinner wherever I want with whomever I want."

"I take it he wasn't happy
with the breakup." Marc sliced a piece of his steak and chewed.

She shook her head. Still steaming
angry herself, she bit back a comment about Butch's parentage and tried to
continue eating her own meal. Marc had moved his chair subtly, and she noticed
his eyes switching from her to Butch to his plate. It didn't look like he was
intimidated in the least, which was what Butch was undoubtedly going for.

Giving a little huffing laugh, she
realized Marc wasn't the type of man to be intimidated by anyone. "No. We'd
only gone out twice. He was acting weird and possessive."

"I can understand his
attraction to you."

Her heart fluttered when her gaze
clung to his sparkling eyes and admiring grin.
Oh yes, attraction…
"You knew him in school, didn't you?"
Right. We're talking about Butch.
"Was
he always an officious little prick?"

He responded, his voice cold, "Oh
yeah. His father was rich and buying up land in town."

"He owns the resort."

"Yeah," he replied
bitterly.

The waiter approached, removed
their plates, and asked if they were interested in dessert. Neither was so Marc
paid the check. Butch was still at the bar when they left. They strolled to the
bridge overlooking the river and leaned on the railing, watching the dark water
race beneath their feet. Actually, in the darkness of the summer sky they could
only hear it rustling along fast from the falls.

"All this water is such a
luxury compared to…"

"Is it really as desolate and
dirty over there as it looks on TV?"

"More. You can't imagine."
He shrugged dismissively.

"And you're constantly in fear
of gunfire?" In the streetlight, she was able to watch his expression. If
he had enough nerve to fight, she should have enough to talk about it.

"Pretty much."

"Do my questions bother you?"

"No. I'd just rather think
about you right now. About us. It'll be time soon enough for me to go back."

Thinking it might be good to
lighten things up, she turned and leaned back on the railing. "So what did
you really think I was like? Glamorous? Super-talented? What?" She teased
him lightly.

"Of course. All of the above."
He bent near, sliding a palm around her neck, and fingered a long strand of
hair lying on her shoulder loosened from her ponytail.

Her eyes fell closed at the feel of
his fingers on her skin. She was losing the battle of admitting to herself how
exciting he was, how attracted she was to him. His fingers crept upward one by
one as he cupped her head. She opened her eyes. His were slits, his lips
parted. They were nice lips.
Very nice.

Pull
back.

Too
late.
He brushed her mouth. Once across one way. Back again the other.
Waiting for her response?

Placing her palms on his muscular
chest brought her closer. He tugged her against the heat of his body. She
melted into his embrace, as protective as she'd imagined. And as she'd feared.

Keep
this easy. Casual. Keep it in perspect—

He re-angled his mouth as a harsh
breath bathed her face, and his kiss turned deep. Consumingly, disconcertingly
deep.

She curled her fingers into the
cool, crisp cotton of his shirt. The wall of his chest felt as hard as an
in-shape Marine's should. Her palms roamed of their own accord, exploring the
curved pectorals, brushing tentative fingertips over erect nipples. She could
feel his low, responsive growl in her own chest, flattened against him as she
was, chest to muscular thigh.

He commanded more from her, his
tongue sweeping inside her mouth, thrusting and circling.

Answering him, she suckled his
tongue, felt him widen his stance, tighten his arms around her. She slid her
arms over his shoulders and neck, gripping his nape.

A honking horn and teenage boys'
catcalls plowed through to her brain. They both stilled, the kiss ending,
lingering a bit, lips just lightly touching. He cupped her head protectively,
her nose in his neck so the teenagers in the car couldn't see her face.

His torso shook with laughter. "Jesus,
was I ever that lame?"

She gazed up at him, smiling into
his glittering eyes. "Oh I'm sure you weren't."

"Right." His chuckle was
sarcastic. "How about stopping in at Ollie's? Have you been there?"

"Of course. Not a lot of
places to go in this town." It was probably a good idea the mood broke.

"Mike Banning's an old friend
of mine."

"Like Butch?"

He made an angry sound in his
throat. "Not too much. Mike's a good guy."

"Unlike Butch," she
muttered. "Sure, let's go to Ollie's."

He didn't want to leave his sports
car at the restaurant, so they grabbed it to make the short drive to the bar.
She brushed her fingers over her lips and smiled. The heat between them hadn't
dissipated after their sizzling kisses at the river.
He's one hell of a kisser.

Before they went inside Ollie's, he
slid his hand around her neck, angling her face up, and pressing his lips to
hers with mind-numbing, sensuous hunger. The next thing she knew she was
plastered against his lovely body, and both his hands were buried in her hair.

What
happened to your warning about perspective?

Voices of people leaving the bar
jolted them apart. He had the presence of mind to stop kissing her but didn't
release her for a few moments. She wondered if he relished their precious
intimacy as much as she did. Finally she followed him inside Ollie's, thankful
that in the darkness no one could see her dazed reaction.

"Hey, look who's here."

Phoebe laughed at Mike Banning's
greeting when she and Marc entered the bar. "Hi Mike, Mrs. Banning."

Marc and Mike did the
handshake-then-hug-and-backslapping thing guys do.

"Hey, Marc. Mom said you were
back. Good to see you, buddy." Mike greeted Phoebe with a kiss on the
cheek. "Phoebe, you got a night off? And you're spending it with this guy?"

"Don't start with me, Mike, or
I'll take my beer-drinking business elsewhere," Marc replied.

"Nowhere better to go. We have
the best burgers too."

"Don't I know it. Your mom
fixed me one yesterday." Marc leaned across the bar to kiss Mrs. Banning.

"There's a table over here. Sit.
What can I get for you?"

Phoebe and Marc sat and ordered. A
couple minutes later Mike was back with the drinks.

"Buddy, it's good to see you
back in town. Are you opening up the old house?"

"No. In fact I'm renting the
house across the street from Phoebe. That's how we met. She was kind of the
welcome wagon."

She opened her mouth to protest
what she feared he'd say, but he stopped her with a wink.

"I'm home on leave. I only
have six weeks, so I didn't want to get into the house. Mike, I need to talk to
you."

"Sure." Mike glanced at
Phoebe. "Now?"

Marc shifted his gaze to her too.

She rolled her eyes and gave him
the shooing motion. "Go on. I'll wait here."

Marc stood, leaned down, and
whispered, "Thanks. I'll just be a minute." Then he kissed her ear.
Her eyes widened when his warm breath made goose bumps pop up all over her.

Perspective!

When they returned, Marc went to
the bar to talk to Mrs. Banning and Mike sat with her.

"I'm glad to see Marc. It's
the first time he's been home in eight years. I wondered what finally brought
him back this time."

"Really? He's never come home
on leave in all those years?"

Mike glanced quickly at Marc then
leaned closer to Phoebe. "I doubt he had warm feelings for B Falls for a
long time. In our senior year of high school, his folks were killed in a car
crash."

"I heard that. It must have
been an awful time for him."

"It was. He withdrew from
everyone, even me. We wanted to practically adopt him, but since he was already
eighteen he didn't need a guardian. I'd hear from him every once in a while
after he went into the Marines."

"Why'd he come home this time?"
she wondered aloud.

Mike's face got hard, angry. "He
doesn't believe it was an accident. He never has, but I think the need to know
has finally gotten to him."

She sucked in a breath. "Does
he think someone killed them? On purpose?"

Mike glanced at Marc again. "Yes,
and so do I."

"Who, Mike? Who would do that?
And why?"

Mike's face shuttered. He fidgeted
and looked away. "I don't know."

"Oh sure. It's really none of
my business anyway," she responded quickly.

"I didn't mean to offend you."
Mike winced and laid his hand on hers. "This is his story to tell."

"Hey, moving in on my date,
Banning?" Marc joined them again, his hand on the other man's shoulder.

Mike laughed. "I've thought of
it, but I'm only a high-school English teacher. I wouldn't want to go up
against a United States Marine."

Marc gritted his teeth in mock
threat. "Good decision." He sat down and slid his arm over the back
of her chair.

Kind
of possessive.
He was awfully attractive, and she was working as hard as
she could to not get involved. But hearing more about his past and the death of
his family touched her heart.

In the first years of her life she
had no one, and she'd become as hard and independent as a child could be. After
being adopted, her parents had been loving and kind, but she'd never really
gotten over the abandonment issues from before them. Her parents were still
alive. Marc lost his entire family at one time. She gazed at his face and could
see the strength of a military man, but she also sensed the loneliness beneath
the surface.

He gave her a smile that further
melted her heart. Lots of people had sad stories. Having the rug pulled out
from under him and his life changed so abruptly at eighteen had to have been a
painful and confusing time. But he finished high school and even survived
military actions.

She was drawn to other wounded
people. Davy had his struggles. So did Moira. The thought of losing her
adoptive parents just when she was ready to step out into the world would have
killed her.

"Oh crap," she muttered.

"What?" Marc asked.

"Look who just walked in."

Crap was right. Was Butch following
them? She glanced quickly at Marc. His eyes hardened. His fist clenched on the
table, but he didn't remove his arm from around her. Butch gave them both a
quick frigid nod and turned to the bar.

Mike said, "I'd better go tend
to him. My mother can't stand him and is liable to spit in his drink."

Phoebe laughed. "Oh surely
not."

"Surely yes," Mike
responded. "Don't get on her bad side. Hey Marc, it's great to see you.
Let's get together outside of here soon."

"Okay. I'll call you."

As soon as Mike left, Phoebe
whispered, "Are you ready to leave? It's getting late."

"I'm so ready, ma'am."

He ushered her into the car. The
second after he lowered himself into the driver's seat he wrapped his hand
around her nape and met her over the center console. The kiss, all scorching
devastation, opened her senses. She put a hand on his chest, not sure if she
was holding him back or if her desire was to touch him. He was so hard. His
chest had no give, just heat and smooth, sinewy muscles. Her palm curved around
his firm pecs.

He groaned, deepening the kiss, his
tongue slipping into her mouth and drawing a moan from her. His heart thumped,
his nipple jutted beneath her palm.

Her nerve endings skittered and
warmth spread over her belly to her clit, her core. Kisses rained over her lips
and chin. He tipped up her head and sucked at the skin of her neck to the edge
of the ruffle lying over her breasts, probably leaving red marks. At that
moment, she didn't really care.

Suddenly, he pulled back. Warm
breath bathed across her face with the words, "We've got to go home."

Nose to nose, her eyes still
closed, their lips barely touching, she felt the heat rise off his skin. Then
she realized what he'd suggested.
Home.
Oh no. We're so not having sex.

***

She'd insisted on going to her
house. On the porch, he'd leaned in for a kiss and now they were inside the
door with her back to the wall, his long body pressing against her, chest to
knee. His full lips covered hers. Clung to hers. It wasn't just his mouth that
devastated her soul. His arms surrounded her, one hand pressed against her
back, the other cupping her head. Even if she wanted to escape him, she couldn't.

He sipped and nipped at her mouth,
the kisses so sweet, almost virginal. Virginal because he didn't use his
tongue. Hers was at the ready, just waiting, not sure what she was waiting for.
His kisses went on and on, gentle and so mesmerizing.

She pressed his nipple with two
fingers, circled the disk and squeezed the hardened tip. He sucked in a breath
and rolled his tongue into her mouth. His grip on her head tightened while his
tongue explored and grazed alongside hers. She responded, moaning, sucking and
playing just as fiercely.

Her hips flexed against him, ground
against his cock. He was so large, so hard against the softness of her belly.
Her clit throbbed in answer. Moisture flooded her panties.

He lifted her off her feet. "Bed?
Where's your bed?" His voice was rough and purposefully seductive.

Oh
God, I'm not ready for this.
She shook her head and pushed at his
shoulders. When he put her down, she took a step backward, tripped, landing flat
on her back with a shriek.