Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (79 page)

The damn women had outfitted her killer body to perfection too. The sundress was low enough in front to hint at some cleavage and short enough to be tasteful but still show off a tempting amount of leg.

More than looks, though, she was funny and cute and—shit, she also happened to be his best buddy’s sister. Crash had to keep reminding himself of that.

Maybe it was for the best she was off limits. Crash didn’t want to be tethered to a relationship back in the States while he was in Afghanistan. That too was a recipe for disaster. Separations like that were hard on an established relationship. Forget about a brand new one just getting off the ground. His last girlfriend had cheated on him while he was stateside—in the same damn town. How could he trust a woman thousands of miles away?

And her being Zippy’s sister made one night of fun with her here in the city impossible. Guys didn’t do that to each other. If the situations were reversed and Zippy screwed around with Crash’s sister and then left for deployment without ever talking to her again, he’d knock Zippy out cold.

Pity, though. He was really enjoying Trish’s company. Watching the way she put Zip in his place was the most fun Crash had had in a while. Half the time Zippy didn’t even realize she was manipulating him into doing what she wanted. Yup, Trish was a smart girl wrapped up in one hell of a tempting package.

Crap. He had to stop thinking that kind of shit.

"Who’s up for shots?"

"Shots?" Crash’s brows drew into a frown at Zippy’s question.
 

Dawn thrust one hand into the air. "I’m in. I’m not driving anywhere tonight."

Zippy glanced from Trish to Crash. "How about you two?"

Trish shook her head. "I don’t think so."

"Me either. Thanks."

"Looks like it’s just you and me, Dawn." Zippy grinned.

"That’s fine with me." Dawn stood and glanced back at the table. "Party poopers."

She flounced off and Trish laughed. "These party poopers won’t be the ones with a hangover in the morning."

Crash laughed at the truth of that. "You ain’t hardly kidding. That zero-seven-hundred muster is going to come way too early."

"Zero-seven-hundred." Her lips twitched with a smile. "It’s funny hearing you say that. Danny doesn’t use Marine-speak at home."

"No?" He cringed. "Sorry. I didn’t even think about it."

"Don’t apologize. It’s adorable. I like hearing it." Trish beamed at him.

Well, all righty then. He’d have to sprinkle a few more Marine-isms into his speech if it had her smiling like that and had her thinking he was adorable.

Trish continued, "Anyway, seven on a Saturday morning after they gave you all of Friday night out in the city is pretty unfair."

He laughed. "The military doesn’t really recognize weekends. Or what’s fair."

She let out a
humph
, looking indignant on his behalf. It was so cute he had to smile…and wish one more time she were anyone besides who she was.

Zippy and Dawn-with-the-double-Ds returned a few minutes later carrying two shots each.

Trish eyed the four glasses. "I thought you weren’t getting us shots."

"I didn’t. Dawn and I did ours at the bar, then a guy saw my uniform and insisted on buying us a round for the whole table." Zippy cocked a head toward the bar.

"It really would have been rude to say no." Dawn put the two glasses in her hands down and turned to give a little wave to a guy perched on a barstool. He raised his glass in a toast to her and Crash had to wonder if the motivation to buy a round had been Zippy’s uniform, or Dawn’s cleavage-baring top. Perhaps both. Either way, there now were shots on the table, one in front of each of them.

"What’s in these?" Crash stared at the purple liquid in the glass. Purple was not his preferred color when it came to alcohol.

"Who knows?" Zippy shrugged. "It’s the special shot of the night."

It certainly looked special, all right. And frightening. Crash wasn’t much for anything other than beer, but when he did do a shot, he could usually see through it. Tequila. Vodka. Something not so colorful.

"What should we drink to?" Dawn grabbed her glass, looking undisturbed by the drink’s hue.

Trish picked up hers too and held it, poised in the air. It looked like they were doing this so Crash picked up his glass as she said, "To our brave men and women in uniform. May they all come home safely."

Could she be any more perfect? Crash would drink to that…even the mysterious purple shot. Joining the others, he raised his glass and knocked back the sticky sweet alcohol.

Even though the liquid had been chilled, it still burned a path to his belly. The damn thing might look like a girly drink, but it had a kick to it. That hot dog he’d had hours ago on the walk to the bar had long ago vacated his stomach. Now, he was starting to feel the effects of too many beers and one crazy shot.

He glanced at Trish as she screwed up her face like child who didn’t like her medicine. "That thing was horrid. It tastes like…"

When she couldn’t come up with the word, Crash said, "Cough medicine?"

"Yes. Exactly. Grape cough medicine from when I was a kid. Ugh. Who thought that was a good idea for a drink?"

Obviously the bartender who’d chosen it for today’s special. Dawn too, now that he took a look at her. She was holding her empty shot glass over her tongue to catch the last drops. Meanwhile, Zippy watched with slack-mouthed intensity.

Crash glanced at Trish. "Looks like your friend has a taste for cough syrup."

"Looks like." Her gaze moved to Zippy. "Looks like my brother has a taste for something too—namely, my friend."

The laugh burst out of Crash before he could control it. Shaking his head, he smiled. He loved a woman who didn’t pull any punches. Trish called things like she saw them, and that was all right with him.

"You’re right about that." Crash turned away from watching Zippy watch Dawn and toward Trish. "You want something else to drink? I’ll get it for you, and I promise when I come back with it, it won’t be purple."

"I’ll have another beer, if you don’t mind getting it."

"A beer it is, my dear.” He attempted his best phony Irish accent but it came out tinged with a Southern drawl.

That didn’t matter. It still earned him a smile from Trish. Happy for that, he stood and turned to ask the others if they wanted anything. It didn’t take long for him to realize there was nothing they wanted that he could provide—Dawn was no longer using her tongue on the shot glass. She was now using it on Zippy.

Crash glanced back at Trish just as, wide-eyed, she shoved her chair back from the table and stood. "I think I’d better come with you to the bar rather than wait here."

"Yeah." He nodded, not blaming her one bit for that decision. "I think that’s a very good idea."

The bar was crowded, and there were a few men looking at Trish with a little too much interest. Crash put a palm on her lower back to guide her across the room and felt her warmth against his hand through the cotton of her shirt.

He was tall, but she wasn’t lacking in the height department either. In her shoes, she came up to his chin. Damned if she wouldn’t fit him perfect if he wrapped his arms around her and leaned down—

Crap. There he went thinking things he shouldn’t again.

Crash couldn’t decide if he should drink away this attraction to Trish he felt creeping over him, or stay sober and hope to fight it. Either way the rest of the night in Trish’s company while his friend and hers were off sucking face was going to be a challenge, but it sure wouldn’t be boring.

~

"I say we crash in the hotel and go back to the boat in the morning." Over an hour and a few more drinks later Zippy swayed a bit. He, and Dawn beneath the arm he had draped over her shoulder, fell off the curb and into the street.

"I agree." Dawn steered them back onto the sidewalk, but in the process stumbled into a person walking by.

Crash was beginning to think they’d be lucky to get to the hotel, forget about all the way back to where the boat was docked. Theoretically—okay, maybe not so theoretically and more like officially—they were supposed to conduct themselves in a manner above reproach while in uniform.

Somehow, it hadn’t worked out that way tonight. By the time they’d left the bar, another guy had bought them a round of beer and another round of shots. Crash hadn’t said no to them but he was in far better shape than Zip.

"You’ll drive us back to the boat in the morning. Right, sis?"

"Sure." Trish cringed. "What time was that again?"

"We have to be checked in by zero-seven-hundred. We’ll have to leave here with enough time to get back."

"That’s fine. If we leave a little after six-thirty, we’ll make it in plenty of time. There won’t be any traffic that early on a Saturday morning. That’s for sure."

"You’re the best sister ever." There was a definite slur in Zippy words.

"Yeah, yeah." Beneath her breath, just loud enough for Crash to hear, she mumbled, "Getting my brother laid with my best friend—sister of the year, I am."

Crash grinned and realized he should have stopped drinking. That had been a bad decision on his part, because every moment he spent with Trish, the more he liked her.

He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck. "You are. The coolest sister ever. When Zippy’s sober, he’ll realize how true that is."

Trish’s eyes met his. "Thanks."

Realizing how inappropriate it was to be touching her like this, he let his hand drop. "You gonna be okay with us crashing in your room for the night?"

"It’s fine. I chose this hotel because all the rooms are set up like suites with a living area and a little kitchenette. It’s nicer than my apartment." Trish eyed her brother and Dawn, who’d gone back to kissing while trying to walk at the same time. They weren’t making a very good show of it. "Of course, I’m thinking the walls aren’t sound proof."

Obviously Trish didn’t want to have to listen to Zippy getting busy with Dawn any more than Crash did. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to. Maybe he could relieve her worry on this front. "You get drunk with your brother a lot?"

"God, no." A frown crinkled the skin between Trish’s dark brows.

Crash laughed at her reaction. "Well, I do and I know one thing. He’ll go strong until he stops drinking. Then you sit him down someplace comfortable and he crashes hard. Out like a light in a few minutes." Crash tipped a head toward Dawn. "What about her?"

"Not sure. Dawn and I usually have a glass of wine when we go out together, not shots. I guess we can hope she’ll fall asleep once he does."

They’d reached the hotel where Trish had parked the car hours ago. He gazed up at the soaring building.

"All right. Sounds like a plan." Crash slapped Zippy on the back to get his attention so he’d stop trying to kiss Dawn while walking into things. Bad enough they were behaving this way in the street. Crash didn’t want to make a bad show of it in the lobby too. "Ease up for a second, big guy. We’re here. Lead the way, Trish."

 
After one long elevator ride during which Zippy was all over Dawn, and a short trip down the hall, Trish opened the door and Crash could see she’d been right. The room was damn impressive. Way better than Crash’s quarters in the staff barracks back in New River. "Nice."

"Isn’t it? So I’m gonna go pull out the sleeper sofa in the living room and set it up for you guys to sleep on."

"Sounds good, sis." Zippy, still semi-attached to Dawn, stumbled through the suite, taking a little self-guided drunken tour. "Wow, look at this place."

Crash shook his head at his friend, then glanced around the space, searching for the door to the bathroom. When he turned back it was to find Trish bent over the couch, her beautiful ass poked temptingly in the air as she divested the sofa of its cushions. Trish sure had curves where they mattered.

He dragged his eyes off her butt. "Um, I’m just gonna hit the restroom."

Still bent at the waist, she twisted to look back at him and he got a view down her shirt, all the way to the lace of her bra.
Christ.
He yanked his gaze away as she said, "Bathroom is through the bedroom."

"Thanks." Blowing out a breath, Crash headed for the bathroom. Hopefully she’d be done with the bending by the time he got back.

Fucking Zippy. It just figured he’d have a hot as hell sister. Damn Crash’s luck.

Chapter 5

Trish tossed the two extra bed pillows she’d found in the closet onto the sofabed and took a step back to admire her work. It didn’t look too bad. Yeah, the mattress was thin and with two big men sleeping on it they’d feel every spring, but it would have to do. They’d have a nice air-conditioned place to sleep, sheets, a blanket and pillows. It had to be better than some of the places they’d slept since being in the Marine Corps, so she wasn’t going to feel guilty about the quality of the mattress.

"We, uh, have a problem." Crash’s voice coming from behind her brought Trish’s attention around.

She spun to face him. Was he talking about his makeshift bed for tonight? Maybe he had a bad back and was afraid sleeping on it would mess him up. "What’s wrong?"