The Officer Breaks the Rules (13 page)

But the old adage about assuming was true.

Instead, she’d been able to feel him around her, his breath on her neck, one hand
resting just below her breast, his arm heavy on her stomach. Nothing could ever match
the feel of his chest rising and falling behind her in a slow, steady rhythm that
said he was completely at peace.

And she’d helped give him that.

Oh God, she was getting completely emotional and weird about this. She’d given him
peace? She grimaced into the darkness. Even she knew that was corny as hell.

So maybe he just brought out the best and the worst in her in equal measures. Not
that she didn’t already know that much. They’d always bickered like barnyard cats
going after the same mouse.

Even before she knew what it meant. At sixteen, she thought it was just some weird
feeling that she’d constantly wanted to swipe at her brother’s new best friend. They
sniped at each other, and everyone got a kick out of it. Said that was how they knew
Jeremy was a part of the family, when he fought with Madison like another brother.

But when she wasn’t within sniping distance, there was nothing sisterly about how
she’d felt. No, she kept her distance, but the crush her sixteen-year-old heart had
developed on Second Lieutenant Jeremy Phillips had nothing to do with sibling love.
Not that she’d have admitted it then. Hell, no. He was just starting off in the Marines,
a shiny new lieutenant. And she’d had a boyfriend of her own. One still in high school
with her.

She could have forgotten about Jeremy entirely, really. At sixteen, nothing is true
love. She’d even convinced herself it was just a symptom of her wanting to break up
with her boyfriend. Any new guy would have caught her immature interest. But when
she saw him again at twenty-two, there was no denying she’d wanted him. Wanted him
with a maturity and intensity that couldn’t be explained away on youth. And he’d still
acted like she was a kid sister.

At least, around her brother. But there’d been those moments that he’d looked at her,
when everyone else was busy. Those heated looks that said she wasn’t crazy to be attracted,
to want. To desire. That knowledge had fed into her need for him for years to come.
Even when they were separated, even when she dated other men. Even when she’d been
close to getting engaged. She knew there was a reason no other man made her feel the
way Jeremy Phillips did.

And now here they were. Sharing a bed after the best sex of her life. Curled up around
each other like they did this every night, as if there was no reason to think they
wouldn’t do this again for many nights to come.

But she knew better. Even as he slept, she was sure his subconscious was trying to
rationalize their night together. Why he’d done it, how he could explain it away.

Oh, he’d have some fantastic bullshit excuse for why they had to back off, cool down,
forget it ever happened.

Too. Damn. Bad. She grinned as she snuggled back against him. If he thought she’d
accept his “It was fun, but now it’s over” speech in the morning, he was an idiot.
She drifted off, her lips quirking as she envisioned the lovely argument they’d have
over it when they woke up.

But if she was going to argue, it’d have to be with herself. Because in the morning,
when she woke up, she was alone.

***

Canada. Canada would be good. Canada was constantly overrun with people on the lam,
right? Surely one more person wouldn’t be a big deal. Of course, most people fleeing
to Canada were likely either convicts or deserters… He was neither. Just trying to
escape a well-deserved ass whipping from his best friend.

No, that definitely wasn’t the right answer. Running away to Canada had been a knee-jerk
idea. Clearly, Canada wasn’t far enough. Afghanistan. That’s where he needed to be.
Government-sponsored vacation to the deserts of Afghanistan. Seven months of riding
around in bone-jarring Humvees, eating crap food, and sleeping on a paper-thin mattress.
That would help.

Help erase the feeling of Madison under him. Of the satiny feel of her skin beneath
his palms. The sweet cushion of her body pressed against his. The sound of her breathy
little moans and sighs that told him exactly how much she enjoyed whatever he was
doing.

No. Afghanistan wasn’t far enough. The moon. Were they sending deployments to the
moon yet?

“Hey.”

Jeremy jolted and nearly tipped his rolling office chair over. He spun around, facing
the door, heart still pounding in his ears. “Jesus, O’Shay. Give a guy a warning before
you pull that sneaky shit.”

Tim grinned. “What? Not my fault you were somewhere completely different. I’m taking
off for home.” He glanced around the office for a moment. “Your dad still in town?”

“Nah.” Jeremy shook his head. “That was a one-day-only event. Just in the state on
business. He’s already gone back east.” And with him, his judgment and pressure.

“Ah, okay.” Tim tilted his head and studied him with an intensity that made Jeremy
want to squirm. “You need to talk? Grab a beer or something first?”

Just what he needed. Some alcohol to loosen his tongue so the first thing he did was
blurt out “I had sex with your sister.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Nope. I’m fine. Just tired.” The last part was the truth,
at least. The first part, complete lie. He’d never be fine again.

Tim shrugged and slapped a hand on the door frame. “If you’re sure. Come over for
dinner sometime soon. Skye misses having people around constantly, now that Veronica’s
out of the house.”

“Sure. Just say when,” he said absently as Tim walked down the hall.

He waited for another five-count after the sound of bootsteps faded. Then picked up
his cell phone. Then he set it back down again. What the hell was he going to do?
Text her and say… what?

Hope
you
got
home
okay.

No. That would only bring in the reminder that he hadn’t stayed around to see her
off in the morning.

Wish
I
could
have
said
good
morning.

An untruth. He booked it out of there to avoid the morning-after talk like he was
about to fail a PFT. Nerves, combined with his own inability to separate his emotions
from the reality of the serious situation, meant he wasn’t ready to have that conversation
yet.

I
miss
you.

Truth. But not going to help the situation any.

I’m an ass.

Also true. But she probably knew that. He left her alone at his place, after all.

He gripped the cell phone with his thumb and finger, then gave it a spin, watching
the hard case swirl over the top of his desk. Then he remembered. She was working
nights this week. So she wouldn’t likely be able to answer him right away anyway.
No point in texting if she can’t answer.

Reprieve. He breathed a little deeper and settled back in his chair. He closed his
eyes, let the silence of the office soak in. In the mornings, the absolute chaos almost
killed him. In the afternoons, the rush to get stuff done and get out as soon as possible
was annoying. But now, when almost everyone was gone, he liked this best. The quiet,
the solitude, the ability to work without fourteen people needing his input right
that second.

God, he really was a loner cave dweller.

But was that such a bad thing? Even in the Marines, it takes all kinds.

Jeremy reached for his pen, eyes still closed, using his other hand to search for
his notebook. Free writing, when he didn’t even let himself look at the paper, sometimes
yielded the most amazing and complex plot points, character references, or backstories.
He let his pen flow without watching, just rambling, letting his own mind drift along
with the soothing sound of scratching.

Drawing. He was drawing something. Not the best artist in the world, but he’d come
up with more than one physical character description from doing this. He let it go
on, trying hard not to focus, which was an oxymoron in itself. The pen halted, stunted,
he knew, by the fact that he was concentrating too hard. Time to let his mind wander
elsewhere, completely uncensored, to keep it preoccupied and away from the paper.

And as always, when allowed to, his thoughts drifted back to Madison. But now he didn’t
have to fantasize about what she was like in bed. He had the full-blown picture in
his mind. What she looked like flushed from an orgasm. What she tasted like in the
middle of the night. What her hair looked like in the morning after a long night of
making love. The way her warm body molded against his in the dark.

“Phillips.”

His hand jerked, sliding a long, thick black mark across the paper. His eyes popped
open to see Colonel Blackwater standing in his doorway, a bemused expression tilting
his lips.

Well, hell.

Jeremy stood and faced the CO, doing his best to slide a folder over his notebook
casually without looking down. In a long list of people Jeremy didn’t want to see,
the colonel was at the top. All this afternoon needed was for his dad to show back
up and he’d have the trifecta of people he preferred to avoid. “Sir. What can I do
for you?”

Blackwater edged into the room and wandered around, taking in the bare walls. “Did
you leave your diploma back at home with your father?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, sir. I have it. Just never felt the need to bring it in.”

Blackwater’s mouth tightened a little, then relaxed. “How are things in your neck
of the woods?”

Warning yellow lights flashed
Caution
in his mind. The CO was a man of authority over his career. And Jeremy’s duty was
to follow his orders. But Jeremy also knew the man was a sneak and had no problems
prying into the personal lives of his Marines. Not with friendly concern, but out
of some odd sense of satisfaction when he could shape the Marine’s life. Like some
weird omnipotent puppeteer, wanting control over everything.

Tim ran into the same problem last year but handled it with much more diplomacy than
Jeremy would ever be able to manage. “Things are fine.”

“I notice you’re always one of the last to leave the office for the day.” Blackwater
started staring, unapologetically, at the papers covering Jeremy’s desk. As if he
had the right. “No family to run home to, correct?”

“That’s correct, sir,” he replied through clenched teeth. He fought the urge to yank
everything away from the man’s gaze. Thank God he didn’t have anything personal…

His notebook. Fuck. Waiting until the man’s eyes were averted to a far corner of the
desk, he glanced down to make sure it was fully covered by a file.

It was. Barely.

The CO picked up a form and started reading without another word.

Go
right
ahead, sir. What’s mine is yours, apparently.

“I’ll admit I probably stayed at the office a little later than I do now, back in
my young, pre-family days.” Blackwater set the sheet back down and walked to the other
corner of his desk to pick up something else. “No thoughts of settling down?”

And
how
is
this
any
of
your
business?
“No. No thoughts at all,” he lied. No practical thoughts anyway. Just a fantasy that
would stay just that. Fantasy.

“A good Marine has something back home worth fighting for. I believe your father knew
that.”

“My father…” Had his dad actually gone to the CO with his concerns? No. He wouldn’t
have. Despite his own concern, even Jeremy knew his father wouldn’t go that far.

“I knew him, once upon a time. We crossed paths at a few points in our careers, though
we never served directly together. Had his work cut out for him, raising you alone
after his sweet wife died.”

Sweet
wife. That’s my mother you’re talking about.
Jeremy bit his tongue to keep from cursing.

“Someone who understands, even supports, the cause is important. My own Patricia is
irreplaceable.” The CO set the paper down and looked him in the eye. “Now. Have you
given any consideration to your next contract, where you might ask your monitor to
send you?”

How the hell did Tim keep from knocking this guy’s teeth out when he was pulling this
shit with his marriage to Skye? “No, sir, I haven’t.”

He nodded and headed back toward the door, one hand gripping the frame. “Time to get
a move on with that, son. Re-up will be here before you know it, and you don’t want
to be caught with your pants down.” He patted the frame of the desk once, wedding
ring dinging harshly as it struck the metal, then nodded and walked out in the hallway,
turning toward the direction of his own office.

“I’m not your son,” Jeremy muttered quietly once he heard the CO’s door shut. He flopped
down, covered his eyes with one hand, and sighed. Damn, that man was draining. Thank
God he was heading out soon, to be replaced by, hopefully, a more understanding CO.

Jeremy glanced down at his desk and started shuffling papers into neater piles. The
thought of Blackwater’s hands all over his things just made him that much more determined
to have everything out of sight and away from the man’s prying eyes.

His fingers bumped the file, and he remembered the notebook, his free-form thoughts
he’d been working on before interrupted. He pushed the rest of the papers into his
top desk drawer, determined to go through them in the morning, and shifted the file
to the side.

And stared, equal parts horrified and stunned, as he was faced with a rather decent
drawing of Madison’s face. Head tilted back, eyes tightly shut, lips slightly parted.
Just like she’d been the night before in the middle of her own climax.

Holy fuck. This was what he got for letting his mind wander to Madison while trying
to work on free-form.

He tore the page out of the notebook—something he rarely did, as he thought even bad
ideas deserved their moment—and wadded it up. But just as he was ready to toss it
in the trash, he pulled back. This wasn’t something he wanted some janitor to see.
He’d get rid of it at home. Burn it or shred it or something. Destroy it in some way
to make sure nobody else would see it.

Too bad his own mind couldn’t unsee the image. Now he had a raging hard-on and no
fix in sight.

***

“Stupid jarhead.” Madison slammed the clipboard on the desk hard enough to have the
desk nurse jump and glare at her. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Trouble in paradise?” Matthew sailed by her with a cart of supplies, and she turned
on her heel to follow, wincing a little at the squeak her rubber-soled shoes made
on the tile floor.

“Paradise. Right.” She snorted. “Hardly.” Okay, so in the heat of the moment, the
whole thing had seemed better than paradise, if that was even possible. But the morning
after had totally popped that dream bubble. Because there had
been
no morning after. Just a morning alone. Embarrassing, really.

“What happened, toots?” Matthew stopped the cart and grabbed a few supplies, slipping
into a room quietly to restock the cabinet while the new mother slept the sleep of
the drugged. Lucky lady. Madison waited for him to come back out before following
along once more like a puppy on a leash.

“He left. In the morning. No note, no explanation, no promise of talking later. He
just left.”

“Hmm.” Matthew wheeled the cart back toward the supply closet and took out the key
to unlock the door. “Why do you think he left?”

“Because he’s a chickenshit?” she asked sweetly.

“Try again.”

“Okay, fine. A stupid jarhead?” She sighed and pushed a hand over her slicked-back
bun. “I don’t know. He probably wanted some time to think about what he had to say.”

“Was the sex good?”

“Matthew!” she hissed then looked around. They were alone, as usual, on the floor.
Unless someone was in active labor, nights on the OB floor were relatively quiet.
No hustle of family constantly coming in to see, no flower delivery services. A smaller
staff, though no less capable and with extras on call at all times. Even the mothers
in labor seemed to somehow calm down more. She relished the nights.

“Oh, I see.” He gave her a sad smile and tsked. “The sex was that bad, huh? I mean,
I can see—”

“It. Was. Not. Bad,” she whispered harshly, then realized what she’d all but admitted.
Though why she was censoring herself with her best friend, she had no clue. It wasn’t
like she hadn’t been honest about her sexual encounters before.

Matthew rolled his eyes, then shoved her arm until she stumbled into an empty room.

Madison stared at the flat-screen TV and the oversized armchair that pulled out into
a couch for the expectant fathers to sleep over on. “You’re not going to take a nap
in here again, are you?”

He shot her a look that would wither plants. “Stuff it, O’Shay. That was once. And
I was just resting between double shifts.” He rolled his shoulders. “Go ahead and
tell Uncle Matthew all about it.”

She made a face. “Don’t be gross.” But she cocked her head to one side, noted it was
dead silent on the floor, and plopped down on the armchair. A minute or two wouldn’t
hurt. “I went over there last night with a spare key. He came home in a horrible mood.
Then we, you know…”

“Madison. You’re a nurse. Last month you pulled an iPod out of somewhere an iPod should
never be. You can say the word ‘sex.’” Matthew looked too amused at her embarrassment.

She flipped him off instead. “After, we fell asleep—”

“That boring?”

She smirked. “That exhausting. Then he woke me up like two hours later for another
round—”

“Well played, sir.”

“—and then when I woke up again, it was morning. He was already gone. Didn’t even
try to say good-bye, the bastard.”

“You’re not the most friendly of people when woken up,” he reminded her. “Could he
have tried, and you bit his arm off so he didn’t bother?”

“No. Trust me. I woke up just fine the first time he did it.”

“Damn you,” Matthew muttered. Poor sad, sexually frustrated male.

“Right back at ya,” she said cheerfully, then frowned. “So I don’t really know where
that leaves us. Is he regretting it? Did he really just not have time to stick around
and wait for me to get out of bed? Is he planning his move to Canada?”

“Likely all of the above.” Matthew held out a hand and pulled her up from the chair.
“You could drive a man to drink, O’Shay. And I do mean that in the best possible way.”

She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Watch that,” he said with a wince. “I’m not one of your big, tough, unbreakable Marines.”

She glanced at Matthew fully, shaking her head. If he kept his hair a little shorter,
you wouldn’t even know he wasn’t in the service himself. The man liked to work out.
He joked that the dating scene on his side of the road was more competitive, and he
had to keep up. But the results were fine to look at for anyone.

“So now what’s the plan?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t call or text all day. But he’s got a life so I didn’t really
expect it. I figured he might send me something after he got off work, but now that
I’m the one at work, he might not want to bug me. So I guess when he calls, we’ll
just… talk. We were friends first, before this happened.”

“And if he wants to pretend it didn’t happen?” Matthew asked gently as they approached
the station desk.

Her heart clenched at the thought. But she shook her head. “He won’t. I won’t let
him.”

***

Madison kicked off her scrub pants and watched them sail halfway to the hamper before
dying a slow death on the carpet. She could relate. If she had her own choice, she’d
fall to the floor and not get up until someone more well-intentioned than she was
came by to pick her up, too.

Sadly, she didn’t have that option. She needed a shower and a bed, stat. She rinsed
off quickly in her small bathroom, doing her best to stay upright and not fall over
and drown. But she knew, as she toweled off, this wasn’t the worst part of a long
shift at the hospital that ended early in the morning.

Nope. The worst part was when she crawled into bed, closed her eyes, breathed a deep
sigh of relief… and nothing happened.

Her eyes popped back open; she was going to have to resign herself to the fact that
she was still too strung up from her shift to fall asleep. She glanced at the nightstand
and her phone and rolled her eyes. She would not—repeat
not
—check her phone again. For the forty-ninth time. Slow shift meant she had that much
more time to think about what it meant that Jeremy didn’t even try to get a hold of
her. The only text she’d received had been from her mother at 0530, asking her to
call when she had time.

Mostly she was just glad to be able to walk quietly into the apartment and back to
her own room without running into Veronica. She loved the girl, but now was definitely
not the moment for chitchat. She was too tired for chatter. But this time of the morning,
even Veronica was still sound asleep. Most people were.

Well, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep anytime soon. Might as well call Mom.

With tired eyes, she hit the right speed dial number and let it ring, using the moment
to grab the towel she let drop by her bed to scrub at her wet hair a little more.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Madison! Sweetheart, how are you? It’s so early.”

Just the sound of her mother’s voice slowed down her mind considerably. Like a drug-induced
calm, it was as if her body recognized comfort through the phone and responded. “Just
got off shift, can’t sleep yet. Where are you guys?”

“Heading over to Louisiana now. It’s my turn to pick, and your father’s grumbling
profusely.”

“I am not,” came her father’s gruff voice, slightly distant sounding.

“What’s in Louisiana?”

“New Orleans, of course,” her mother said, like it was completely obvious.

Timothy Senior and Susie were taking to retirement like ducks to water. After spending
a lifetime of moving around from coast to coast—sometimes country to country—Madison
and Tim had both assumed their parents would relish the ability to spend the rest
of their lives in one spot, with the chance to plant some roots and grow in a community.

More fool them. They’d barely lasted a year before the nomad fever grabbed hold and
wouldn’t let go. Shocking them all, her parents bought an RV and were making a go
of touring across the country, taking turns on who picked what attraction they would
see next. Often this handing-off of choice meant their pattern over the country was
more of a zigzag with a few loops thrown in for good measure rather than a normal,
logical sweep. But, as their mother laughingly pointed out, they had nothing but time.
Time she got to spend with her sweetheart.