LITMIR.BIZ

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are coming tonight, right?”

      “We’ll be here.” She let her gaze scan up the stairs to the second floor where Travis’s old bedroom was located. Surely, with his injured leg, they’d prepared a room downstairs for him. But she didn’t see anyone else moving about. “I know I’m early. And I promise I won’t stay long. But I saw the car and wanted to welcome Travis home. I’ll give him a hug, then get out of your hair so you guys can rest up.”

      “He went to the guest room, and I don’t—”

      A king-size belch, starting deep and covering a variety of pitches, dramatic in its longevity and loud enough to tickle her funny bone, erupted from the back of the house. An instant later, Travis materialized in the archway leading to the kitchen, holding a can of soda.

      Tess grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Nice one.”

      Clear blue eyes swallowed up her seeking gaze from across the room. “I’ve been practicing.”

      “Travis Harold McCormick. There’s a lady in the house.”

      She’d never envied Travis and Ethan for getting the double whammy of a superior officer’s tone and a father’s voice rolled into one. But the McCormick boys didn’t seem to mind.

      “It’s cool, Dad. It’s just Tess.” He downed the last of the soda and reached around the archway frame to set the can on a counter. “Hey, T-bone.”

      Tess shook her head at the goofy nickname, but her eyes never wavered as she studied him from head to toe. The killer smile was still there, bemused and sexy, even if it looked a little ragged around the edges. But there were other subtle changes. There was a gauntness to his chiseled features that hadn’t been there before, a tension, a maturity. And a wash of pale beneath his golden tan indicated that the deepening web of lines beside his eyes had more to do with stress and fatigue than with time spent outdoors.

      “Keep it short, son. The doctor said you need to get off that leg as soon as possible.” He held up a stern, paternal finger. “And mind your manners.”

      “I’ll make sure he follows orders, General.” Tess smiled with reassurance.

      Hal gave her a wink, then excused himself from the foyer.

      “Good to see you.” Travis had tossed his hat onto the living room couch beside his cane, and with a nonchalant defiance, he closed the distance between them. The stiff set of his jaw told her what it was costing him to hide his limp without the aid of his cane.

      Tess hurried to meet him halfway.

      “It’s good to see you, too.” Her words caught in a strangled whisper as she fought the sudden tears burning in her throat. “Welcome home, Captain.”

      She reached up to touch the tight lines of strain beside his mouth. She brushed her fingertips across the pale pink scars that lined the left side of his square jaw and dotted his neck. She caught his chin and turned it from side-to-side, inspecting every mark.

      The eyes were as blue as she remembered, the nose the same sharp blade. The amusement on those firm, flat lips was genuine. “You just gonna stare?” he teased, spreading wide his welcoming arms. “Or am I gonna get some action?”

      Exhaling a cry of relief, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his smooth, angular cheek. Then she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

      Riding the deep breath that filled his chest, Tess held on as Travis wrapped his arms behind her waist and lifted her off the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her nose in his collar. He smelled of soap and hospital and the starch in his uniform. Intoxicating. Worrisome. Strange yet familiar.

      “Couldn’t get a good enough look through your window?”

      His teasing voice rumbled against her ear, and Tess was suddenly aware of how tightly they held each other. How distinctly non-platonic this felt. Her nipples beaded where her small breasts pillowed against the hard plane of his chest. Her cotton T-shirt and his canvas uniform couldn’t mask the heat seeping from his skin into hers.

      Or maybe she was the one whose body temperature had suddenly soared. “You saw me?”

      He laughed out loud as she squirmed away, sliding down his body and creating a friction that sparked every nerve with an embarrassing hyperawareness.

      Travis reached out and cupped her blushing cheek. “I saw the curtain move. I remembered all the times we sent messages back and forth between our upstairs bedroom windows and put two and two together. Nice to know you’re still lookin’ out for me.”

      “I’m going to be doing more than that, Trav.” She retreated another step to gain some much-needed distance. “I’m in charge of your therapy while you’re here.”

      The smile vanished. “Therapy? I’m on forced R and R.”

      “Your physical rehabilitation. Starting Monday.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, wondering at the rapid cooldown in Travis’s mood. “I’m a licensed therapist, remember? I work with sports injuries, accident victims, stroke patients, wounded veterans.” She shifted back and forth on her feet. Travis was damn near glowering now. “You dad told you, didn’t he? I’ve read the reports from your doctors and have outlined a recovery plan that should have you back to Quantico in four to six weeks’ time. All we have to do is set up a schedule that’s convenient for you.”

      A glimpse of the tough, six-foot, two-inch, Special Ops Marine surfaced as he leaned in. Leaned over her. All traces of the familiar camaraderie he’d greeted her with were gone.

      “You’ll be waiting by your phone a long, long time. I’m here for two weeks, tops,” he insisted. “And if I wasn’t concerned about the strain on Dad’s heart from worrying about me, it’d be less than that.”

      Tess stood there and gaped, absorbing his anger, wondering at its cause. She curled her hands into fists at her side, unsure whether she wanted to slap him or hug him at his outburst, but knowing neither touch would help right now. “Look, Captain, I was only trying to help give you what you need.”

      “I know what I need—and it’s not being stuck down here in Podunkville for six weeks while the Corps forgets about me. So unless you’ve got some miracle up your sleeve that can get me back on the front lines with my unit, there isn’t going to be any rehabilitation.”

      2

      TESS BARTLETT had tits.

      Theoretically, Travis had always known they were there. But he’d never really noticed. Not the way a guy noticed an attractive woman. His body hadn’t cared before.

      But there they were, small but scrumptious things, sitting high and proud, on the opposite side of his father’s living room where Tess chatted with her mother, Margaret, and one of the matriarchs of the community, Nixa Newhaven. He was damn sure Miss Newhaven hadn’t noticed the beaded tips outlined beneath the cling of Tess’s lavender T-shirt. No doubt they were jutting out in protest of the air-conditioning that ran constantly in the summer heat as partygoers streamed in and out of the house.

      But Travis noticed.

      His body had been misfiring with overheated aftershocks of physical awareness ever since that hug this afternoon. He’d felt them then, pressed against him like…well, not like Tess.

      Hell, yeah, he’d been glad to see her. The two of them had hugged before. Countless times. But this afternoon it was…well, not like Tess.

      He’d been pleased at first to see her. Finally, someone with whom he could drop the brave face and relax. He’d been on his best behavior at Quantico, not wanting to give his superiors any more reason to drum him out of the Corps. His father and brother were far too worried about his recovery, adding guilt onto the layers of frustration that already plagued him.

      Maybe Hal could be content with retirement, spending half his time on his fishing boat, or camping in one of the ocean-view parks. But Travis had been bred and

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