Services Rendered EC Taboo

Services Rendered Diana Hunter This book is loosely tied to characters from Secret Submission and Submission Revealed.

Recently back from Iraq, Lauren Carr is still trying to put her life together. Her best friend sets her up on a date with an incredibly sexy man who promises to tie her down and make love to her all night long. His offer intrigues her, piques her interest in the submissive lifestyle she’s so curious about. This strong, dominant man might be just what she needs. John McAllen is an ex-Marine who has put his demons to rest. He has a successful career and friends who share his kink. The beautiful Lauren, who was so capable in a crisis, turns out to have PTSD. In spite of his desire, he isn’t sure he wants to deal with her damaged psyche. He needs a woman who can submit to his control, to his passion for ropes and chains and floggers. To his every sexual demand.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com Services Rendered ISBN 9781419934773 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Services Rendered Copyright © 2011 Diana Hunter Edited by Pamela Campbell Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication August 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

SERVICES R ENDERED Diana Hunter

Dedication This book is dedicated to the men and women of the Armed Forces of the United States. Thank you for your service.

Acknowledgements I need to give a special “thank you” to Averill Bauder for sharing his expertise in the firing of Civil War cannons. His knowledge brought life to the Civil War reenactment scenes. And another special thanks to Tara Nina, who told me a story one time…

Author Note In the world of fantasy anything goes, but in reality, remember to always practice safe sex.

Diana Hunter

Prologue The dusty street, hot in the mid-afternoon sun, lay bare and empty. From some corner of hell, a hot breeze blew sand in small devils along the few spaces between the crowded buildings. Nothing else stirred. Not even the dozen men standing alert in their hiding places, their khaki camouflage sticking to their sweaty bodies, their hands slippery on their gunstocks. An errant fly buzzed each in turn, yet not one of them moved. The low murmur of voices drifted on the breeze from inside the least squalid hut that squeezed itself onto the street. And still the twelve waited, breathing in sand and heat, the strange cinnamon scent of the desert barely noticed. The voices in the hut rose as if in anger and one of the twelve nodded just once to a soldier on the other side of the street. Slowly lifting his hand, he held out three fingers, then two, then one and pointed toward the door. The first two soldiers slid through the curtained doorway, knowing, from previous visits by spies, the layout of the narrow hut. A hall led directly from the door to the open courtyard behind. A room immediately to their right, another behind it. At this time of day, their quarry would be in the second room. The second pair followed closely, peeling off to take position in the first room. They would wait and make sure none escaped into the street. Two others would remain outside for the same reason while the remaining six guarded the entrances to the street. The first two paused at the curtain that closed off the second room. The men in the room argued loudly now, the Arabic words sounding like so much gibberish to all but one of the twelve. The other soldiers spoke only English with smatterings of high school Spanish and French. Only the leader had studied the language of the people whose land he’d be helping to rebuild. Only the leader understood the terrible action the men discussed so heatedly. And for that, he gave thanks. He knew his men. If they understood the depth of the plot they were about to foil, there would be blood spilled. That, however, was not their job. They were simply to arrest these men, not to act as judge and jury. There had been enough of that in this desert land already. His men in place, he nodded once more. They knew the plan. He and another would enter the room, the two behind him would go through to secure the courtyard and the two just outside would enter only as backup if needed. Their attack, swift and silent, took the inhabitants by surprise. “We are Americans,” he shouted in Arabic over their noise. “You are under arrest. Put your hands in the air.”

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In an ideal world, the men who plotted murder would have done as he told them. They would’ve risen from the pillows on which they sat and gone along peacefully, accepting that they’d been caught. Except no ideal world existed in Iraq. On the far side of the room, a man raised a machine gun. Without hesitation, the leader fired, killing the Iraqi. One of the men sitting on the floor leapt up, pushing his gun up and out of the way with one hand and pulling a knife with the other. Twisting away, the leader brought his gun barrel down on the man’s head, sending him spinning away. More shots filled the air as the men on both sides shouted their anger. Gunfire erupted outside the room too. Damn the intelligence. There were only supposed to be three men inside, instead there were nearly a dozen. And there were obviously men in the courtyard, all armed better than the military had been led to believe. He’d led his men into a trap.

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Chapter One John McAllen lay face up in the field, his open eyes staring at the cloudless blue above, trying to remember just why he had decided to die so early. The sun beat down, turning his wool uniform into an oven that slowly baked him all the way through to his spine. Ants had found his shirtsleeve and even now paraded along his arm, enjoying the shade and tickling his skin with their tiny legs. But he wouldn’t move. That was part of the deal. Once you were dead, you didn’t get to move. Shots came from his right, yet he resisted the urge to look. Didn’t matter who was winning the battle. Didn’t matter who fell or who managed to walk away at the end of the hour. The enemy had found its mark in him and all he could do now was lie in the sun and cook. A welcome shadow fell over him, ostensibly checking for a pulse. Will Bondman, his brother-in-arms in more ways than one. John said nothing, per the rules of the dead, as Will whispered to him, “You should’ve fallen facedown. You’re gonna get sunburned.” John glared at him and remained still. “I can roll you over, if you want.” “Don’t you have a battle to fight?” John risked the words between barely moving lips. “Action’s moved into the woods. Thought I’d check on a newbie reenactor first. But if you don’t want my help…” “Turn me over.” Hiding a grin, Will turned over John’s blue-clad “dead” body then hefted his heavy, antique Springfield rifle as he stood. “You’ll learn,” was all he said before John heard him drift away, heading toward the trees and the action.

***** Lauren Carr watched the “battle” below with a mixture of boredom and disgust. These play soldiers cavorted around beautiful fields belonging to the Genesee Country Museum, pretending they were teaching history to the tourists who paused in their trek around the re-created Victorian town, when in reality they just made a mockery of what real soldiers lived and died doing every day. War was too real for her to stand and watch it played at. She’d been home only two months and that wasn’t enough time for her to forget what she’d seen. Hell, two years wouldn’t be enough.

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“Aunt Lauren, look at that dead man. One guy rolled him over, but he didn’t move hardly at all. Do you think he’s really dead?” Lauren looked down at her eight-year-old nephew and fervently hoped he would never have a need to enlist in any branch of the military. She’d seen enough action for both of them. The boy’s dark hair, tousled by a breeze that popped up from nowhere, framed eyes wide with concern. Lauren smiled and put her arm around his shoulders. “No, Ian, he’s not really dead. It’s just for show.” She looked out at the man her nephew indicated. True, he looked more realistically dead than several others who lay scattered like beached blue whales. At the irreverent thought, she hid her grin, lest Ian think she made fun of the action he watched so intently. Maybe it is a good thing he takes it seriously, she thought as the soldiers in blue moved back into the field, obviously in retreat. This action supposedly represented the battle of Antietam, but from what she could tell, the flat field with the gazebo in the middle and a tree line at the far end that barely hid the museum’s town buildings on the other side didn’t look anything like the real fields in West Virginia where so many men had lost their lives. If Ian understood that people really died in war, and that their deaths were not pretty in any way, then standing on this hill overlooking the re-creation and watching this absurdity might just be worth it. A trumpet sounded some unfamiliar notes and the soldiers on both sides dropped their weapons to their sides. A man with a microphone stood up in the gazebo and explained to the audience that the battle had ended and any weapons with gunpowder still in them would be discharged. This was followed by several pops and puffs of smoke as rifles were fired into the air. The sound had a higher pitch than the rifles she was used to. And quieter. Battles in the past had definitely been quieter. But then the cannon let loose and she reacted instinctively, falling into a crouching position and dragging Ian down with her. Out on the field a white ring of smoke wavered its lazy way across the open area and the dead rose from their positions. “Aunt Lauren?” “Lauren?” With an effort, Lauren refocused on the present. Her nephew looked up at her with eyes wide with confusion while Beth, her best friend, looked on with concern. “It’s okay, Ian. Took me by surprise, that’s all.” She straightened, ignoring the stares of the people nearby. Out on the field the dead men rose to rejoin their companies and once again Lauren wondered just what lesson Ian would take from this. Would he think war was just a game and you went home after it was all done? Or would he remember his concern when the one soldier didn’t move for such a long time? She prayed he would never feel the panic for those long seconds when you didn’t know for sure, or feel the struggle to breathe when death still hovered in the room and you had to close your eyes against the living. “There’s a man selling ice cream. Can we get one, Aunt Lauren? C’mon, can we?”

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Lauren gave herself a mental shake and grinned at her nephew. “I don’t know, what do you think, Beth? Think it’ll spoil his dinner?” Beth laughed and pushed a stroller toward her. Inside nestled the cutest little baby girl Lauren had ever seen, not that she had much in the way of experience. Beth had given birth two weeks after Lauren’s discharge from the Army and homecoming. In fact, Lauren had been with Beth when she’d gone into labor. Paul had met them at the hospital and Lauren had graciously moved to the side to let others take center stage, a place she relinquished willingly. Now the baby squealed and Lauren laughed. “Apparently Emily wants ice cream too.” Beth shook her head. “Emily wants something considerably warmer than ice cream. Come on, let’s find some shade to sit in and I’ll feed the little bugger.” Several soldiers swarmed around the cart at the top of the hill, getting drinks to cool themselves down after the thirsty work of battle. Lauren knew their presence pulled Ian in that direction just as much as the thought of an ice-cream cone. She smiled—she wouldn’t say no to mint chocolate chip right about now. A large oak provided plenty of shade and several families had already found comfortable spots underneath it. The mingling of the past and present made her thoughtful. Weekend warriors of a bygone era mingled freely with kids in shorts and T-shirts. A teenage girl, obviously in her rebellious phase, sat with her back to her family, earbuds firmly in place even as she licked a chocolate ice-cream cone and watched a handsome boy in a too-large gray uniform saunter past her for the third time. The sight made Lauren smile. Some things never changed. Down on the field below several soldiers stood in a group, looking as if they were having an argument. Ian fidgeted and pulled on Lauren’s hand. “How much longer, Aunt Lauren?” “A few minutes,” she told him, looking at the long line. Her gaze returned to the group of men in the field, who started walking away from the hill where she stood, the group still engaged in heated debate. What could they be so passionate about? Not the outcome of the battle—that had been written in blood over a century ago. The sight of the man going down caught her attention before she heard his pained cry. Twisted ankle? Out of habit, she glanced around, taking stock, alert and ready should he need medical assistance. The knot in her belly released as soon as she remembered there were no enemy hiding behind the bushes here. She could get to him without coming under fire. The loud sounds of real pain came across the field and Lauren made a quick decision. She called her instructions over her shoulder to Beth even as she moved away from the ice-cream line. “Take Ian. I’m on this.” Lauren sprinted down the hill, hoping these play soldiers had the sense to have a good med kit nearby. No one else moved with her, although the tourists at the top of the hill quieted, their attention caught by the real-life drama apparently unfolding. The

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men who’d been walking together across the field had formed a circle around the injured man and Lauren pushed her way through them. A soldier in blue lay clutching his knee, giving vent to his pain in grunts and groans rather than words. The pants leg had already been ripped aside and the sun glinted on the white bone that never should have seen daylight. Blood pumped out of the hole around it in a regular rhythm and Lauren knew from experience that there wasn’t much time. “Put the pressure on, stop that blood now.” No one could mistake the commanding tone in that voice. Lauren realized the order came from the soldier whose fingers explored the rest of the leg, checking for other breaks in the bones. His hands were skillful and knowledgeable as he felt along the leg and moved down to the injured man’s foot. The same couldn’t be said for the man who tried to stop the bleeding. His fingers grew slick with blood as he tried to wrap his hands around the man’s thigh. “Dammit, find the femoral artery and choke it off.” Lauren shook her head. Obviously the man had no idea where that was. There wasn’t any time. If she didn’t act soon, the man would bleed to death. Already his grunts were turning to soft moans. She knelt and batted the man’s hands away then ripped the fabric all the way up to the groin. Using her fingers to find the right spot, she pressed down hard with her thumbs while keeping an eye on the blood flow. Immediately it slowed and, after a moment, stopped. She didn’t think the soldier giving commands even looked up to notice her. The brim of his kepi hat shielded his face so she couldn’t get a good look at him yet she thought this was the same soldier who had “died” and upset Ian so much. Dead or not, she couldn’t deny the sureness of his hands as he gently pulled the tissue and muscle back to peer inside the leg. “Paramedics that were here had to go out on another call. Won’t get back for half an hour.” “Shit, we don’t have a half hour. We need a chopper. Now.” The kepi-hat soldier barked the order without looking up. Another voice called out. “I got 9-1-1, I’ll tell ’em.” Lauren didn’t look up. Half an hour? This guy wasn’t going to last half that time if they didn’t get him stabilized. She held on to the clamped artery with her hands, worried about lasting until the EMTs arrived. Blood puddled in the joint where she kept the pressure steady and threatened to make things slippery. While her hands weren’t cramping yet, they certainly would be soon. Besides which, the longer they kept the blood supply cut off, the greater the chance the man would lose his leg. And all because of one careless misstep into the gopher hole that gaped beside her, the long grass that covered it now matted with blood.

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The soldier who’d been checking out the wound now sat back on his heels. “It needs to be immobilized. But we’ve got to get that bleeding stopped first. We can’t wait.” He looked up at the other soldiers still forming a circle around their comrade. “You and you, hold his shoulders.” He pointed at the man who had initially tried to stop the flow of blood and one other. The men nodded and took position where he indicated. The men followed his orders as if he were their commanding officer. Yet he was the one who had died within five minutes of the battle’s beginning, she was sure of that now. “Take off his gear and lay him down flat. And one of you get a pulse rate.” Lauren adjusted her grip as the soldiers moved the man. They took off his rifle and the white bullet bag as well as a canteen and some other stuff Lauren didn’t understand the purpose of. Through it all, not so much as a drop of blood slipped past her fingers. The man under her hands had gone quiet now and she saw him shiver even though the sun beat down as if to roast them all. He was going into shock. She gave an order of her own. “Put your coats over him. Keep him warm.” For the first time, the soldier at the man’s feet looked straight at Lauren. His eyes bored into hers as if taking her measure. She’d seen the look hundreds of times before. How many times did she need to prove herself? How many doctors would judge her worthiness? She returned his gaze, lifting her chin in an unconscious challenge. He gave her a nod and a warning. “Keep that pressure up.” “I’m steady.” Lauren resisted the urge to shake her head to rid herself of the sudden flashes of other fields, of other broken legs and arms. IEDs did more damage than gopher holes. She could handle this. “Cut the strap on that canteen. Will, hand me his bedroll and the leather strap he used to hold it on.” Lauren concentrated on her task but understood what the soldier intended to do. She nodded her approval, even though he never looked at her. “Shouldn’t we put a tourniquet on him to stop the bleeding?” She drew a breath to answer, but the soldier at the man’s feet was faster. “No, let the pros do that. We just need to keep him from going into shock. His hands deftly positioned the wool blanket around the wound. “Hold this,” he instructed a man on his right who gingerly held the blanket in place. Skillfully winding the straps around the blanket, the soldier successfully immobilized the leg. The whirl of the helicopter blades made her shiver. Lauren would’ve covered her ears against the deafening noise as it landed on the other side of the field but her hands were occupied. She bent her head against the wind but didn’t dare close her eyes. Too many memories lurked not far enough beneath the surface.

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The clank of a metal gurney being dropped beside her made her jump, but she didn’t remove her hands. The man under her fingers was not out of the woods. He’d lost a lot of blood and would lose more if she let go. A flash of uniform beside her told her the paramedics had arrived. The doctor/soldier greeted them with information. “Good to see you guys. Pulse is…” The soldier pointed to the man he’d put in charge of getting that information. “Fifty-six, sir.” “Broken femur, compound fracture. Bones are now in place but the femoral artery is compromised. Definitely not entirely severed, however.” One of them murmured, “Good work,” as the two of them set to getting their own data. A blood pressure cuff was placed around one arm even as the other set out the materials they’d need. “What about you, miss? How much longer can you keep up the pressure?” Lauren was beginning to wonder that herself. “A few minutes more, I think.” “Good. Let me get this ready then Josh’ll put a tourniquet around his leg.” She nodded, her arms suddenly very tired. True to his word, the paramedics were ready in hardly any time at all. The one called Josh applied a pressure-adjustable tourniquet around the man’s thigh. “Hold on and slowly release when I tell you to,” he told her. Quickly he tightened the clamp then nodded to Lauren and she watched for a flow of blood as she released her grip. But nothing got past the tourniquet and she stood and backed up, flexing her sore hands and letting the paramedics do their jobs. The soldiers moved back, giving the paramedics the room they needed to work, but when asked, several lifted him onto the metal frame. They waited patiently as the paramedics strapped their comrade to the board then helped carry the litter up the hill to the waiting helicopter. Lauren watched it all in detached silence. Someone gave her a wet cloth to wipe the blood off her hands. She used it without looking, being sure to rub the cloth hard over every surface of her hands and arms. Concentrating on the spire of the Victorian church she could see on the other side of the trees helped keep her in the present, but Lauren knew she would have nightmares tonight. A police officer came over and asked for her version of what had happened for the accident report, but Lauren didn’t have much to say. No, she hadn’t seen him fall, she’d only heard him cry out. No, she didn’t know his name or the names of any of the other soldiers for that matter. Yes, she was a trained nurse. No, she did not currently have a job. The officer didn’t ask why and she didn’t volunteer. How could she ever go back after what she’d been through? Through it all she remained very conscious of the solder/doctor going through the same drill with a different officer. She couldn’t hear his responses, but his bearing said it all. His broad shoulders remained square, his strong hands accepted a towel with ease

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and tossed it into the red bag with nonchalance. Saving a man’s life was all part of a normal day for him. “That was cool, Aunt Lauren. You saved that man’s life! Beth told me so!” Ian came bounding up, followed by Beth pushing the stroller. The baby looked sated and Ian’s face sported the remains of a chocolate ice-cream cone all over his cheeks. Lauren took the wet wipe Beth offered and bent down to clean him up, her smile tighter than she wanted it to be. “Beth exaggerates.” “Is he gonna be all right? He looked awfully white when they put him on the stretcher.” He spoke with the authority of an eight-year-old who thinks he knows everything. “He’s going to need some blood transfusions, I suspect. But yes, I think he’s going to be okay.” “He’s gonna need blood ’cause you’re wearing a bunch of his.” Ian’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Lauren looked down in a panic. He was right, her shirt and shorts were spotted with bloodstains turning dark in the sunlight. Beth handed her another wipe and Lauren dabbed at the worst of it, already knowing she’d throw these clothes away as soon as she possibly could. Beth handed her another wipe, concern in her eyes. “What about you?” she prodded. Few knew of the nightmares that plagued Lauren since her return. Beth, however, was her best friend and Lauren confided much to her. Perhaps too much, she thought now as she saw the mothering side of her friend come front and center. “I’m fine,” she hastened to reassure them. “Not a scratch on me!” “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Lauren cut off her retort as she noticed the soldier/doctor coming toward them. He held his cap in one hand and had his wool jacket thrown over one arm. For the first time, she got a full look at the face of the man who stepped into a crisis without a qualm, who ordered the men around him with innate authority, who most probably saved the man’s leg with his quick actions, and her breath caught. Irritated, she pushed down the reaction and studied him as he strode to where they stood. His buzz cut was considerably shorter than all the other reenactors’ hairstyles. He also wore a close-shaved goatee instead of a full beard. Of course, that drew her attention to his lips and idly she wondered what kind of kisser a man with a goatee might be. Lauren became acutely aware of his height as he drew closer. Somehow down on the battlefield she’d thought him near her own stature, but now realized he stood a head taller than her own five-foot-four frame. In fact, the man was huge. Body-builder huge. Huge as in over six feet tall with shoulders wide enough to land a plane on. The summer heat made his cotton shirt stick to his skin in all the right places. On him, rather than look obscene, the blood spatters gave him a dangerous air. In spite of her intent to remain coolly aloof, his eyes were so piercingly blue, his gaze so intimate, she quickly looked away lest he see the problems she took such pains to hide. 14

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John flashed a tight smile to the woman with the stroller and the kid he assumed to be her son as he approached the small group. The boy grinned back at him with something close to idol worship so he sent him a wink before turning to the woman the kid had called “aunt”. Now that the moment of crisis had passed, he paused to take a good, long look at the woman who hadn’t flinched at the sight of blood and who so competently followed his orders. She stood maybe a foot shorter than him, but that was pretty normal. He tended to look at the tops of heads a lot. Being a little over six-three gave him some advantages in views, both out and down. The woman’s T-shirt clung quite nicely to her curves, although the blood spatters dampened his more lustful thoughts. Still, the woman had ample breasts that stretched that knit material quite nicely. He was just getting around to noticing the blend of colors in her auburn hair when she turned those dark eyes toward him. John felt a small shock—he’d expected the competence and hoped for the interest, but the haunted, tired look that lurked behind the first two surprised him. This woman had issues. The red flags went up and his greeting became cordial instead of warm and inviting. “I just wanted to say thank you for your help.” She put out her hand in greeting and John took it, accepting her firm grip as a matter of course. “You did good work down there. Not the first bone you’ve handled.” Her voice had a musical quality to it that he couldn’t quite identify, but liked in spite of the warnings he tried to give himself. “Had to learn a thing or two about first aid in the last job I held.” Her eyes narrowed. “That went far beyond first aid.” John shrugged, not rising to the bait. She wasn’t the only one with a demon or two in her background. His years leading men through desert mountains, dodging sniper fire and mortar shells had given him far more practice patching up bodies for transport than he really wanted to remember. Not that he wasn’t proud of his military career, yet here in this museum park with the sun beginning to slant long rays through the trees, the sound of children’s laughter and tour guides telling stories just seemed to be the wrong place to bring it up. He sent the probe back to her with a deft twist. “You seemed to know your way around a man’s groin yourself. Good hand work.” Her eyes flashed once and she gave a quick glance toward the boy who hung on their every word. But the kid gave no appearance of having understood the innuendo. The woman with the stroller, however, laughed out loud. “Oh Lauren, this one’s a keeper. Be sure to get his number.” She turned the stroller and took the boy’s hand. “C’mon, Ian. Let’s get you cleaned up the rest of the way.”

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“Beth…” The petite woman started to protest, but with a saucy wink at the two of them, her friend—sister?—pulled the kid and pushed the stroller toward the restrooms. His erstwhile nurse apologized. “I’m sorry, my friend likes to play matchmaker…” “It’s okay,” John told her, taking her arm and turning her toward the ice-cream stand. “I’m John…John McAllen. And you’re Lauren.” When she didn’t answer, he glanced down and prodded her. “Does Lauren have a last name?” She shook her head as if coming out of a reverie. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Maj—” She stopped herself and gave a little shake of her head before stopping entirely, setting a determined smile on her face and holding out her hand. “I’m Lauren Carr. Nice to meet you, John McAllen.” Okay, now he was intrigued. She’d been a major. Army field hospital, if he had to guess. That would explain the competence and the brief flash of irritation when he’d asked her if she could handle it down on the meadow. It would also explain the demon that haunted her eyes. He pointed to the cart a little ways farther down. “Looks like he’s about to close up for the day. How about an ice-cream cone before he does?” She smiled for the first time and the change in her face amazed him, giving him a glimpse of all her possibilities. “We were on our way over there when your friend broke his leg. Beth and Ian got theirs, but I didn’t.” “Then ice-cream cones it is.” He gestured her forward and they wound their way through the dozen or so people who still hung out, licking ice cream and taking their time. John took a deep breath, smiling and nodding to those they passed. He paused only once when a pretty young woman put her hand on his arm and asked for a picture. Lauren waited for him, seeming bemused by the request, but John felt happy to comply. Not only did it appeal to the innate theatrical vein in his psyche, but the reallife blood staining his uniform would give this couple a reminder of the realities of warfare, even if the accident had happened after the fact. To drive the point home, he told the woman and her boyfriend about some of the medical conditions of the mid1800s, including the fact that, in all likelihood, had such an accident happened during a real battle, the chances were the man would have died, or at the very least, have lost the leg entirely. Now, due to modern medicine, he’d be up and walking within weeks. As a result of the delay, they got to the stand just as the vendor flipped the sign to “closed”. Undeterred, John knocked on the window to get the man’s attention. “It’s been a long afternoon and this little lady really needs an ice-cream cone to cheer her up,” he told the man through the glass. When Lauren gave a little pout and batted her eyelashes at him, the man acquiesced and lifted the window once more. “But only for you two and only ’cause I saw what you did down there.” “Thanks.” John leaned on the counter and turned to Lauren. “So what’re you having?”

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Lauren bit her lower lip as she quickly scanned the choices to make sure her favorite was there then announced, “Mint chocolate chip.” “Make it two,” he told the man, reaching for his wallet. He saw her pull a small wallet from her jeans pocket, so he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “I’ve got this.” Color came up in her cheeks. “It’s not necessary—” “Didn’t say it was. Let’s just chalk it up to the uniform and a bygone era of gentlemanly behavior.” Lauren nodded, conflicting emotions running rampant inside her. Reading people was second nature to her. One didn’t have a lot of time to make a call when the medics brought in their buddies. And there was more than one way to bleed. But this John McAllen, so far, was an enigma. Obviously used to being in charge, yet out on this imaginary battlefield as a private. Smooth, definitely sexy—she’d seen the way the young woman reacted to him when he posed with his arm around her. Lauren had to admit she felt a little of the same herself. The way he looked right at her, as if she were the most important person on the planet right now. The way he steered her with small touches on her arm or back, not as if she were incapable, but as if he were protecting her. That was it, right there. In his presence, she felt safe. As if he had the strength of body and will to fight off all her demons, both real and imagined. For a brief moment she thought of the two of them standing on a hill in a time period even longer ago and knew he’d be wearing armor and riding a white charger. Or maybe chaps and spurs and a white hat. The vendor came with their cones and Lauren took a good, long lick, letting the mint settle deep inside her. A slow smile spread across her face. “Is there anything better for the soul than mint chocolate chip?” she commented. “I can think of a few things,” John answered her, taking a lick of ice cream, twisting the cone around in his fingers. Yet his eyes never left hers, reading her body language far more easily than she read his. He had to. Lauren knew she was no good at hiding her emotions after the crisis had passed. Right now she felt safe, secure…and sexy in his eyes. She lifted her chin and took him up on his offer. “Oh really? Name one.” “Tying a woman down and making love to her all night long.” Lauren choked on her ice cream. Of all the answers she’d been expecting from years of bad pick-up lines, John’s answer came out of the blue and smacked her right in the pussy. She felt herself grow warm all over despite the ice cream she tried desperately to swallow. And it didn’t help to have him stand there, looking nonchalant, gallantly offering her a paper napkin as if they were discussing the weather. Her eyes watering from

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swallowing too much ice cream too fast, she tried to look up at him, but the sun was behind him. “No fair. Can’t see you,” she muttered and pushed him to her other side so she could give him the glare he deserved. Except he took one look at her and laughed out loud. A good, hearty, infectious chuckle. When her glare turned to puzzlement, he reached over with his own napkin and wiped the green ice cream off the tip of her nose. She rolled her eyes and relented. “Okay, so your answer wasn’t quite what I expected,” she started. “But you’re intrigued enough that you’ll go out to dinner with me tomorrow night,” he finished. Lauren opened her mouth to demure, but Beth’s voice superimposed itself over hers. “Of course she is, and she’d love to. What time?” “Beth, I can arrange my own calendar.” “Seven o’clock.” John spoke directly to Beth. The conversation continued as if she wasn’t there. “Here’s her address and phone number. I took the liberty of writing it down for you.” “That was kind of you, ma’am. I appreciate it.” “Casual dress? Or something a little fancier?” John paused and gave Lauren a once-over. She took the opportunity to interject her own thoughts on the matter. “I’m right here you know. You can talk to me and—” “A little fancier.” “Perfect. I know just the outfit she should wear. It was nice meeting you, John.” “Nice to meet you too, Beth.” He shook the hand Beth offered and once again tousled Ian’s hair. “And you too, young man. You make sure these ladies get home safe now, you hear?” “Yes sir!” Ian snapped a salute and Lauren couldn’t help smiling. His arm was all akimbo and his fingers at the wrong angle, but his posture was straight and his grin infectious. “Dismissed, soldier!” “Come on, Aunt Lauren. Beth says it’s time to go home.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit. “Just a minute, Ian…” She turned to talk to John, but he’d already moved away. Instead, she took her frustration out on her best friend. “Beth, how could you? We don’t know anything about him.” “And if we did things your way, it would stay that way.” Beth pushed the stroller over the uneven ground, making her way toward the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. Most of the people were leaving now that the battle was done and the museum’s buildings were being shuttered.

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“Lauren, look. You’ve been home two months now and barely get out of that apartment except when the girls get together.” “That’s not true. I’m here with Ian today, aren’t I? I’ve taken him to the zoo, to the science museum—” “And to the planetarium. Lauren, you’re avoiding the topic.” She was and she knew it. Beth’s observation fell too close to the target. “Lauren, you won’t even go to the VA hospital to talk to someone. I won’t pretend I understand what you went through over there but I do know what you’re going through over here isn’t any good either.” Lauren shook her head. “I know, Beth. I know. I just need more time, that’s all.” “Time and a date with Big John.” “Beth!” Lauren pretended shock and playfully hit her friend on the arm. “Well, you do.” Beth dropped her voice. “And if you’re smart, you’ll let him get lucky on the first date and ride him all the way to mindless fucking!” The shock was real this time. “I’ve never heard you use that word…ever!” Beth’s smile was full of mischief. “Sarah’s been a bad influence on me.” Lauren highly doubted that. Lauren, Beth and Sarah Simpson—Sarah Townshend now—were part of a group of that got together every few weeks just to celebrate their friendship. Lauren and Beth had known each other since grade school. Sarah had joined them in high school where she’d earned the label “Most Pure and Innocent”. With her clean-cut look, big brown eyes and quiet ways, everyone agreed she deserved the title. Any retort Lauren intended to make, however, had to wait as the crowd filed through the narrow exit from the museum grounds. Beth went ahead, pushing the baby, and Lauren ended up several people back, holding tightly to Ian’s hand so she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. But then the way opened again and Lauren saw her friend halfway through the parking lot to the car. With Ian in tow, she headed in the same direction. Ian pulled her up short, though, pointing through the trees at the white tents of the Union soldiers. “Look, Aunt Lauren. That’s where they sleep. You can see the tents from here and there’s John.” In fact, she’d seen John before Ian pointed him out. How could she not? He’d taken off his soiled coat and shirt and stood by one of the tents in nothing but his wool pants. Suspenders hung at his sides, but she noted those only in passing. His back was to her and she could see the broad expanse of shoulders and the strength of muscles as he stretched to reach inside the tent and pull out a clean shirt. A simple motion, really. And yet her breath caught again as he gathered the shirt in his hands and swung it up, dropping the folds of material down to cover those magnificent muscles. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the material and laughed at something someone said. She couldn’t hear the conversation. It didn’t matter. All she could think of was that back and his parting words to her—tying a woman down and making love to her all night 19

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long. She’d felt such protection while near those arms, that back. To have him tie her down…and make love to her? “Aunt Lauren, come on. Beth’s calling us.” Ian tugged impatiently on her arm and brought Lauren back to the present. “Right. Right, Ian. Let’s go home.” Determined not to think of that sexy back or of the fact that she had a date with it, she turned and walked away.

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Chapter Two Lauren stretched, sauntering over to the window to watch the rain puddle in the street. After a spate of beautifully sunny summer weather, she welcomed it, especially as it came down as an all-day rain. They could really use this long soaking for the gardens and fields. And the rain suited her mood. Since her discharge, Lauren had read, on average, three to five books a week, losing herself in romance novels, fantasy stories, even science fiction. Anything to avoid examining her life and deciding what to do next. Today she’d used the rain as an excuse to curl up on her living room couch, throw an afghan over her knees and sit with a cup of hot tea and an erotic romance novel. She’d finished the entire thing in one sitting and now felt primed and ready for a night on the town with Big John. Stepping into the shower, she thought about Beth’s advice to let him get lucky tonight. Overseas, one-night stands and quick flings got everyone through the worst of the stresses and strains and boredom that went along with working in the emergency department of a military hospital. Except she was home now. Did she want another one-nighter? Or did she want to play this one out and see where it went? The water splashed over her skin and she ducked under to chase away the solemn thoughts. “One thing at a time, girl,” she cautioned herself. First, she had to get through the date. He might turn out to be a total jerk. If that were the case, she’d leave him at the restaurant, take a taxi home and be done. But she remembered his touch on her elbow yesterday, his hand on the small of her back guiding her through the crowd, the overall feeling of protection he emanated and hoped John wouldn’t fall into the asshole category. He might, however, fall into the dangerous one. Beth’s instructions as to which dress to wear had been very specific. “The V-neck, black dress with the chiffon-skirt overlay. And wear your red scarf with it, but don’t tie it so you can’t see your cleavage. Just drape it over your shoulders like a wrap.” “Yes ma’am.” Lauren had laughed at the time, but as she stood, surveying her figure in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she shook her head. The slinky dress showed off every curve, every hollow, every movement. The red scarf, with its oriental patterning, gave her an exotic flair. Beneath her makeup, however, she could still see the dark circles under her eyes that gave away her restless night. As she had feared, Saturday’s incident had provoked a nightmare. She’d awoken in a cold sweat, the shouts and confusion of a bomb blast still echoing in her ears. It had taken several hours of mindless TV watching before the images faded and she managed to drift off to sleep again on her living room couch. 21

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Lauren straightened her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. That was done, she told herself. Nothing but a bad dream now. She’d closed that chapter of her life and moved on to the next, even if she had no idea what the next looked like. The image in the mirror reflected a woman in her early thirties, no gray yet in her shoulderlength brown locks although, if heredity had anything to say about it, those gray hairs should be showing up any day now. She still wore it parted on the side as she had since her high school days, finding the easy style to be versatile enough to wear up when at work or down for a night out. Not that she had a job just yet. Soon. She’d get out and look for one. When she was ready. One that didn’t involve hospitals or doctors or blood. She’d had enough of all three to last her several lifetimes. The door chime stopped her reveries, reminding her tonight marked a step out of the shell she’d formed over the past few years. One-night stands might take the edge off in battle zones but did little for the psyche. Despite Beth’s admonition that she just needed a night in the sack, Lauren longed for so much more. Her plastered-on smile turned warmer the moment she opened the door and saw John standing there. He stepped inside and filled her hallway with those magnificent shoulders. The way his eyebrows rose when he saw her in the dress Beth had instructed her to wear didn’t hurt any either. “Very nice,” he said by way of greeting. Lauren dipped a small curtsey. “Thank you. Just a moment while I get my bag.” She left the door open as she hurried into her bedroom for the forgotten tiny purse. Styles had changed while she’d been overseas and all today’s purses seemed huge. She’d found this one at a discount store and had cut off the long strap that was meant to go over her shoulder, all the while missing the pockets of her uniform. Coming back to the door, she picked up her keys from the table and stepped beside him in the hall. “All set now.” She locked the door and smiled at him, calling over her shoulder, “And good night, Mrs. Boorman. Don’t wait up!” as they headed for the stairs. Behind them they heard a small snick as a door shut down the hall. “Mrs. Boorman keeps track of you, does she?” “Of me and most others on the floor. There are six apartments on each of the two floors and I swear, each floor has its version of Mrs. Boorman.” He chuckled and his baritone echoed in the stairwell. “Every apartment building has their version of Mrs. Boorman. And that’s a good thing.” “Is it?” “We all need someone to keep track of our whereabouts. Having people care, even if in a busybody sort of way, gives purpose to our lives.” They’d reached the first floor. Only the presence of another couple also making their way out for the night prevented Lauren from continuing the conversation. Lauren peeked through the door, hoping her wrap would be enough. The rain had stopped and the vivid pinks and oranges of the clouds promised a better day tomorrow. Once 22

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outside, John opened the passenger door of his SUV and handed her in, so she still didn’t have the opportunity to respond. But as they pulled from the curb and headed into traffic, she picked up the train of thought he’d started in her. “Our lives can have purpose all by themselves, you know. You don’t really need others to validate your existence.” “Not to validate, but to give it purpose. You know you’re alive, but without others, of what use would you be?” Lauren turned to face him, her eyebrows knitted in a frown. “You can’t be purposeful by yourself?” Clearly Lauren’s emotions lay close to the surface. Stirring them didn’t take much effort at all. He found himself enjoying the banter, glad for the confirmation that she was more than met the eye. “Let’s put it this way. A hermit in the woods needs no one to validate his existence. He knows he’s alive, he knows he breathes and thinks and has things to do.” John paused as he maneuvered around a vehicle parallel parking in front of him. He noted the way Lauren seemed to look in several directions at once as he did so, checking out the cars at the side of the street, the ones in the oncoming lane as well as giving the parking car a very thorough going-over. He continued, however, as if he’d noticed nothing. “But he has no purpose in life. He simply exists. Without interaction, a person doesn’t grow as a human being and the world is not enriched.” “So the purpose of life is to enrich the world…?” Lauren left the end of the sentence trailing, inviting him to further argue his point. Or dig himself in deeper, he wasn’t sure which. “Yes, I’d say that’s part of it. Isn’t Mrs. Boorman’s life enriched by watching yours? She’ll have a juicy bit of gossip to share with the other gossips of the building. That’ll raise her status, and thus, your purpose in life.” “My purpose?” “To give Mrs. Boorman something to talk about.” Lauren’s laugh sounded a little rusty, as if it weren’t something she did very often. He liked hearing it, though. While he didn’t know the particulars of her past, he knew the haunted look far too well. He’d been given a second chance for a real life after serving his country—she deserved the same. “So tell me your preference, Miss Lauren,” he drawled in his best Southerngentleman voice, “do you prefer the nightlife of the High Falls area? Should we dine at one of the upscale nightclubs and dance the night away? Or would you prefer somewhere quieter, with perhaps a lounge lizard playing Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?” “You don’t like Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?” “I do, when played by Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra.” 23

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“Well, I’m not really a nightclub kinda gal…” If John hadn’t glanced at her at that precise moment, he would’ve missed the brief shadow that crossed her features. Her voice, besides the slight pause that could’ve been for effect, gave no hint of anything wrong as she continued. “I could do dinner in a nice restaurant that doesn’t have a lounge lizard in the bar pounding out oldies on an out-oftune piano.” “I know just the place.” A spot quiet and intimate, yet with good food that filled the soul as well as the belly. He took the next left. “So you’re a doctor?” Her question startled him. “No, I’m a teacher. Why would—” He stopped. “Oh, because of yesterday?” “Well, yeah. I’m a—was—a nurse. You set that bone as if you’d done it a hundred times. Speaking of which, how is your friend?” “Chuck? He’s fine. He lost a lot of blood, but your good work kept him from losing more. The surgery on the artery went well and his leg will be in traction for a while, but he’ll heal.” “Because of your quick action with the compound fracture.” “I’ve tended enough of them in my life. Not all legs, but the technique doesn’t really change, whether it’s a finger, an arm or a leg.” “But you’re not a doctor.” He heard the amusement in her voice. “Nope. Teacher. High school social studies with a specialty in American history.” “Civil War in particular?” Now it was his turn to grin. “Actually, that’s one of my weak points. But a friend of mine is a reenactor and he talked me in to giving it a try. Said maybe I’d learn something.” “And have you?” She swayed as he made the right into the parking lot at Bonacci’s, an upscale Italian restaurant, and John wished he didn’t have bucket seats. He wouldn’t mind feeling her against his arm. On second thought, maybe the bucket seats made better sense. “Have I learned anything? Yeah, I learned not to die face up so early in the battle.” Her chuckle was worth the slight sunburn he’d gotten. His cheeks still sported a definite glow from his time as a dead man. “I also learned that a Springfield rifle weighs nine pounds and that nine pounds is heavy when carried for an hour while wearing a wool uniform in the sun.” He threw the SUV into park and turned off the ignition. “Is Italian all right with you?” The small dimples in her cheeks when she smiled gave her an impish look that wasn’t reflected in her eyes and the fading sunlight colored her hair a beautiful auburn. She’d worn it down tonight and the ends brushed over her bare shoulders where her wrap had slipped down. Keeping his touch nonchalant, he brushed her hair back with 24

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his fingertips, feeling the smooth warmth of her shoulder. Lauren’s eyes dropped and he thought, If she were a cat, she might purr. Instead she smiled up at him, her look steady and measuring. “Italian is fine,” was all she said, the words implying so much more. If only he had a clue what. Lauren smoothed her dress with one hand, adjusted the wrap with the other, and then took the arm he proffered to cross the parking lot to the restaurant. He’d handed her out of the car and every time they touched, she got the same little flutter in her stomach. What was that all about? She was far too old to go all school-girly. A high school history teacher, hmm? She bet there wasn’t a girl in his classes who didn’t sit there all googly-eyed over their hunk of a teacher. Although he hadn’t gotten those broad shoulders from lifting history books, she’d bet her last dollar on that. Beth’s advice to bed him tonight came back to her and Lauren took a deep breath of the warm summer air. The next thought, however, did not warm her, but gave her tingles. Tie down a woman and make love to her all night long. Sex with Big John wouldn’t be cuddles and romance. She kept her thoughts private as the maître d’ led them to a booth too secluded for her taste, one that afforded a great deal of privacy for the exchange of all sorts of intimate secrets. Except she wasn’t sharing her secrets with anyone. Not even Beth knew the full extent of what she’d seen, not only during her time at Walter Reed but when stationed in Iraq. Those were her little secrets and no amount of romance would pry them out of her. No matter how much his blue eyes smiled at her, the corners crinkling up as he laughed at one of her bon mots. No matter how much she liked the dimple in his cheek or the way his strong hands moved in the candlelight. The grace in those movements fascinated her. She’d seen him save a man’s life the day before with those same hands that now held a menu board. The lamp overhead burned low and a large jar candle on the table cast a warm light over the creamy white of the booth’s tablecloth. The placemats and napkins of rich burgundy added to the elegant feel. Candlelight sparkled off the water and wineglasses, bestowing a fairy-like touch to the whole scene, and Lauren revised her opinion. Perhaps there could be romance in being tied down and made love to, if done in candlelight. “What’s your favorite Italian food?” Lauren asked to veer her mind away from the bedroom. She still hadn’t made up her mind about that yet. Too many unanswered questions about the man across the table from her and food was as good a place to start as any. “Pastas are my favorite, but I favor red sauce over cream based. You?”

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She shook her head. “My grandparents on both sides were from England. I grew up with Yorkshire pudding and roast beef. I don’t know nearly as much as I should about Italian food.” John set his menu down. “Then let me order for you. You’ve never had roast beef until you’ve had it prepared the Italian way.” Lauren chuckled and closed her menu. “Deal.” John placed their order with the waiter, ordering an appetizer of bruschetta to be followed with two orders of braciole. To go with it, he ordered a full-bodied pinot noir from a local winery. As the waiter left, Lauren took charge of the conversation once more. If she directed it, she could stay on safe ground. “So how did you end up a history teacher?” Damn, but she liked his smile. Framed as it was by that goatee, she had to wonder yet again what it would be like to be kissed by a man with a beard and mustache. She’d had plenty of “release” flings both overseas and at home, but until now, she’d always gravitated toward the clean-shaven look. John’s well-trimmed facial hair, however, gave him a dashing, almost pirate-y look that made her grin. “The president put out a call for teachers and I answered. Thought about becoming a shop teacher, but found out there’s not much call for that anymore. Emphasis is now on getting kids ready for a different world. But history? ‘Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.’ Edmund Burke.” “I never thought about subjects going out of style, but I suppose they have to. What’s your favorite era?” Keep him talking about himself and he wouldn’t ask the same questions about her. In the two months since her return, she’d become a master at deflection. “The Edmund Burke quote didn’t give me away? Pre-colonial and the colonial period. How an entire society invented an entirely new way of governing themselves is an endlessly intriguing question for me. Be careful, or I’ll get into lecture mode and bore you to death.” Lauren chuckled. “Actually, it’s a question that has always interested me as well. Equally interesting is the companion question.” She paused as the waiter approached with their wine. She watched him uncork the bottle, pour some for John to taste and then waited as he filled their glasses upon John’s approval. “What’s the companion question?” John resumed their conversation as the waiter departed. “Why is it so hard for other countries to become democracies? I mean, think of it.” Lauren warmed to her subject. “We were a colony under a monarchy. They were under a dictator—” She stopped, realizing she’d tipped her hand. John picked up as if he didn’t notice. “It’s all in the personalities. We had George Washington, who refused to become king. There was an entire movement, you know, that wanted to establish a constitutional monarchy just like the mother country.”

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Lauren nodded and sipped her wine. “I did know that. But cooler heads prevailed.” Now it was John’s turn to laugh. “I never thought of it that way, but perhaps that’s it exactly. The English are known for their cool dispositions, and our founding fathers came from that tradition. Maybe other countries who try for democracy don’t have that calm, rationalizing influence. They’re ruled more by passion, so their road to democracy will be more passionate and violent.” She was saved from an answer by the arrival of their bruschetta. She steered the talk toward a more innocuous subject—their tastes in food. Throughout the appetizer she discovered Italian was his favorite, followed by Mexican, Chinese and Indian. “All robust foods,” she laughed as she spooned tomatoes and basil onto a slice of toasted bread. “As you can tell, nouveau cuisine is not my style.” He patted his belly. “Oh come on. You can’t tell me there’s an ounce of fat on that stomach,” she scolded. “Of course not!” He looked affronted then turned sheepish. “I’m afraid I have a streak of undisclosed vanity. I do spend probably more time than I should in the gym.” So her body-builder comparison yesterday hadn’t been so far off. “I don’t mind,” she told him. “I like a man with muscles in all the right places.” Her coy smile, accompanied by a waggle of the eyebrows, kept the comment light but she couldn’t deny the underlying attraction he provoked. Beth wanted her to allow John to get lucky. The more she thought about it, the more inclined she was to follow her friend’s advice. She hadn’t had a sexual partner in nearly a year. Maybe Beth was right and all she needed was a good hard fucking to get her mind back on track. The braciole came, the rolled meat sitting on a bed of ziti and topped with a delicious-smelling tomato-based sauce. They both accepted the offer of freshly grated parmesan and when the waiter once more departed, Lauren remarked, “Can you believe the hundreds of millions of people who got cheated out of tomato sauce because they thought the plant was poisonous?” “Actually, the plant is poisonous, it’s the fruit that isn’t.” Lauren chuckled. “Ahh…a member of the ‘tomato is fruit’ society, I see.” John’s eyes danced as they parried and thrust, learning about each other and getting through the small talk necessary to set the stage for deeper conversations later. This woman before him presented so many different faces to the world, all of them seemingly competent. The playful kitten, the little-sister tease, the intent scholar, each side true in and of itself yet masking an inner turmoil she hid quite well. No trace of the haunted look he’d seen before appeared during dinner. She kept the conversation light and focused on him. John let her get away with it, knowing trust takes time to build. He didn’t let on even once that he knew about her friend’s comment to her, about getting lucky on the first date. Women weren’t the only ones who liked to gossip and

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Will had been standing discreetly nearby, ready to report Lauren’s reactions verbatim. Will’s tastes in sex ran the same way John’s did, although Will’s activities with his wife tended to be a little more extreme than John preferred. Still, he’d attended a few gatherings of like-minded folk and enjoyed learning the proper way to tie the female figure to provide maximum enjoyment for them both. Question was, would Lauren allow that kind of play? He fully intended to fulfill Beth’s suggestion tonight and give Lauren the release she needed. As to future nights, however? That all depended on just how deep the demons were in that pretty little lady across the table from him. Problem was, she deflected every attempt he made to figure her out. “So what do you do when you’re not escorting your nephew around the museums and zoos of the city?” She turned that one aside with a neat, “I’m between positions at the moment.” He let that one slide, although several double entendres leapt to mind. He asked about Beth instead, listening to the unsaid words in her description of the woman she called her best friend. The most telling was the comment that Beth had been there “during my dark time”. They were getting closer. “So you didn’t like the braciole?” he asked her as she scooped the last piece of meat around her plate to get all the sauce. “No, it was wonderful—” She smiled as she realized he teased her. “Seriously, I never thought about rolling beef with stuffing and dropping it into tomato sauce. Truly a unique idea.” He grabbed his heart in mock distress. “Tomato sauce! Augh! A magnificent red sauce like this and you call it ‘tomato sauce’. I’m wounded to the very core.” Lauren laughed outright then slapped her hand over her mouth as she realized how loud the sound had been. The older couple sitting at the table a little ways away looked over and smiled indulgently. John liked the sound of her laugh. Another thing she didn’t do often enough. “So where did you learn so much about Italian food?” “In the service. Friend of mine was named DelVeccio. He taught me all there was to know…” Lauren had gone quiet. Her eyes darted to the door as if she suddenly were plotting her best escape route. Obviously he’d said something wrong.

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Chapter Three Her heart thumping, Lauren fought to remain calm. Why hadn’t she seen this sooner? How could she have missed it? The quiet command of the men yesterday, his ease in steering her through and around the crowds, even his haircut should’ve given him away. Close-cropped, but longer than what would’ve been allowed if he were still active. He’d been a soldier. Probably recently, knowing her luck. She should’ve picked up on it sooner. Flustered, she put her fork down, leaving the rest of the pasta in her dish unfinished. “I’m sorry. I have to go. This isn’t a good…I mean…I didn’t think…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I have to go.” Her wrap had slipped off her shoulders and as she stood, one end fell to the floor. John was suddenly beside her, his hand on her bare arm, his touch gentling and calm. “If dinner’s made you ill, I can take you home. If it’s something else, please…sit down. No one’s going to hurt you here.” Damn him. His soothing tone sank into her panic, yet she didn’t want to look into his eyes, knowing the pity she’d see there, the condescension of the superior male to the weaker female that she’d seen so many times overseas. Well, she wasn’t weak. And she wasn’t about to put up with his arrogant, self-important, better-than-you attitude. Yanking her arm away, she squared off, steeling herself to look him straight in the eye, her mouth open to give him a good tongue-lashing, right there in the restaurant. Except the patronizing look she expected wasn’t there. The words she had intended to blast him with sputtered out in a few syllables then fell to silence. “I’m not…I mean, you’re…” “Come sit and tell me what this is all about?” The question mark weakened her knees. He’d begun the sentence as a command and ended it with her choice. “Quiet authority” she’d thought before now showing as proof positive. He commanded without bullying. Nodding, she sank into the chair again, pulling the wrap tightly around her shoulders when he lifted it into place before sitting opposite her again. The waiter came right over, seeing their distress and knowing he was about to lose a good tip. Customers who fought always forgot about their server. “Would sir and madam like to finish their meal with a little gelato?” Lauren nodded hesitantly to John’s questioning look and the waiter left to get the Italian ice cream. “Gelato’s a very dense ice cream. I think you’ll like it.” He sat back in his chair and Lauren understood he was giving her space to think.

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She shook her head and decided to come clean. “Look, John. I’m sure you’re a wonderful person. I like your company, I really do. But I just can’t… I’m just not ready for…” He leaned forward and waited until she looked directly at him. Then he smiled and the dimple appeared in his cheek. “Let tonight be simply dinner. Just two people working on becoming friends who came out to enjoy a good meal. Set everything else aside.” She relaxed barely at all. “It’s not as easy as you think.” She glanced almost shyly at his face and still saw no traces of the arrogance she was used to seeing in the faces of soldiers. Her loneliness welled up and Beth’s image came to mind. After years of dating him, Beth had finally consented to marry her longtime boyfriend, Paul. Now they had a child and her friend radiated contentment and happiness. Saying John McAllen would bring that same contentment to Lauren’s life stretched the current circumstances but if she ran away, she’d never find out. Forcing her shoulders to relax, Lauren spread her fingers on her lap and let out her breath. When she looked up at him again, she’d found a measure of calm. “I can do that. Just enjoy this for what it is. I think.” Now he chuckled outright. With a small flourish, he put his car keys on the table between them. “If you decide to bolt, take my car. Can’t have you walking home from here.” Lauren couldn’t help it. His smile was infectious. “And how will you get home if I take your car?” He shrugged. “I’ll figure out something.” Lauren relaxed as the waiter set the gelato before her, realizing John had done it in spite of her best intentions. He’d worked his charm and calmed her down even though she’d every intention of running away from this former military man. Lifting her spoon in a silent toast, she gave him the first round of the evening. John fully intended to determine the reason for her sudden panic but took a roundabout approach to lull her into relaxing with him. Did she realize that was his intention? Probably. All night long she’d shown a sharp wit and deflected his forays. John liked a challenge and Lauren was definitely that. She had a way of throwing her head back and tossing her hair out of her face that showed both impatience and a definite sexuality he doubted she knew she exuded. The neckline of that little black dress showed just a hint of cleavage. The scarf worked to hide it. A fitting metaphor for our conversation, he thought as she deflected his current attempt. “You said you went to Nazareth and the University of Rochester? What did you major in?” “I wanted to be a scientist when I was in high school, so I got a degree in chemistry. This gelato is really good.” “But you didn’t become a scientist?”

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“Nope. Did you get your degree in American history or in education?” “You’re changing the subject.” Her answering grin affirmed it. “I’m not going to go there, soldier boy. So you might as well stop trying.” “Soldier boy?” For a moment, she looked flustered again, but then recovered. “Private in the Union Army, right?” John knew that wasn’t what she’d meant. Was it his time in the military that gave her the fidgets? Time to hit the subject head on. “Yes, and former Marine captain, stationed in Hawaii, two tours of duty in Iraq, then back to North Carolina.” Her face went white. Bingo. John remained calm. Why did his service so obviously throw her? “Lauren?” “Yes, sorry.” She took a large gulp of water from the glass beside her plate. John put his spoon down. “I think you’d better tell me.” It didn’t matter that the restaurant was thousands of miles and several years away from his time in Iraq. The look in her eyes mirrored that of a boy he’d almost killed when his unit had stormed a house of supposed insurgents. All they’d found were several women huddled in a corner and an eleven-year-old boy wielding a long block of wood like a baseball bat. Thankfully, they hadn’t shot first that time and, through a translator, profusely apologized for the bad intelligence. He wasn’t ever sure it had made any difference to the family they’d inadvertently terrorized. Across the table Lauren picked up her spoon and fiddled with her melting gelato before giving up any pretense of eating. “This isn’t the place,” she told him, keeping her head down as she obviously struggled with her emotions. “Lauren.” John waited until she looked up at him. Tears and panic glimmered in her eyes. Making a decision, he dropped his napkin beside his plate and signaled the waiter. “Check, please.” “Yes sir.” With efficiency, the waiter whisked away their bowls. Lauren and John sat in silence until he returned with the folder containing the check. John glanced at the amount, pulled two fifties from his wallet and left them inside. Standing, he held out a hand to Lauren. Her hand trembled in his, then she steadied somewhat and nodded, more to herself than to him. The night had turned a little chilly and Lauren shivered as they walked to the parking lot. He tucked her arm in his but then, a block away a car backfired and Lauren immediately went down, throwing one hand over her head, using her other to balance herself on the ground. John doubted she’d even realized she’d cried out. If he’d had any 31

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doubt about the haunted look in her eyes before, he realized now he had his answer. PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder—wasn’t nearly as uncommon as people wanted to believe and the woman who’d been so competent on the field yesterday now hunkered down in the restaurant parking lot, her entire body shaking as reality slowly returned. “Sorry,” she managed. He shook his head as he bent to help her up. “There is nothing to apologize for. Come on, I’m taking you home and we’re going to talk.” “Talk?” She batted away his hand as she stood, her nerves still on edge. “There’s an entire legion of psychiatrists who want to ‘talk’ and medicate and put me away somewhere ‘quiet’. What makes you think I’m going to spill my guts to you?” “I didn’t say you were going to talk. I said we are going to talk.” He watched her brush off her knees and knew now was not the right time to be noticing her cleavage. The scarf trailed in the dirt and he bent to pick it up. “We are going to talk and—” Lauren snatched the scarf out of his fingers, effectively cutting off both his words and the view as she wrapped it around her like armor. John dropped his hands to his sides and let down a little of the guard he kept on his own set of issues. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You’re not the only one with hard memories, you know.” She turned her body, her chin still defiant, her gaze on something farther away than the restaurant building before them. “I’m sure I’m not,” she finally managed, her voice sounding strangled. John waited. Rushing her would only drive her away. She had to come on her own time or the friendship they’d forged in the restaurant would die an early death. After several moments, Lauren finally turned back to him. “I’m trying very hard to put that part of my life behind me. Dredging it all up again isn’t really very useful.” “And yet it won’t go away.” She didn’t answer, dropping her gaze before finally shaking her head. He pushed further. “The waking in the middle of the night, seeing the bodies of the men you couldn’t save. Smelling the heavy metallic odor of spilled blood. Gallons and gallons of blood that clots and turns black before the march of feet trample it into the ground. Is that what you see, Lauren? “Or the sounds of a construction site, the pneumatic hammers sounding like gunshots, the jackhammers like machine guns that just don’t stop—ever? Asking yourself why everyone is walking around as if there’s no one hiding around the next corner, why they’re all smiling and pretending that life is wonderful when you know the hell that lurks in your memories?” His words battered her. He was being a bastard. He knew it. But he couldn’t stop. “It doesn’t go away by itself, Lauren. This isn’t a cold that can be cured by some aspirin and vitamin C, it’s not even like grief that will heal with time. What you’re

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feeling goes deeper than grief because you know what you were like before. Before you went over there, before you became a monster who dealt out life and death with splitsecond decisions. “And now you’re home, a place that’s supposed to be safe except the world has completely changed. Only it hasn’t. You have. And that’s what you can’t deal with.” Tears slid silently down Lauren’s cheeks. A sob escaped and she clenched her fist to her mouth as if to push it back in. John felt like a heel. He hadn’t intended to go so far. He’d started out to make the case for the two of them to talk about their wartime service and gotten caught up in his own damn memories. “Lauren, I’m sorry. I got carried away.” She shook her head, her entire body tense with the effort to regain control. After a moment, she gulped down a deep breath and opened her mouth to answer. It took a few tries, however, before she managed an entire sentence. “No…every…everything you said…is right. I do have nightmares, and I obviously jump…jump at every loud noise. I sometimes find myself shaking when I’m not cold and I can’t drive down the street without watching every parked car for hidden IEDs.” Her voice grew steadier as she spoke. “People I knew before—they look at me and see the old Lauren. They expect me to laugh and be witty and have fun the way I used to.” She shook her head and her sigh came out a little ragged as she made her confession. “And I’m not that girl anymore. And I miss her.” The tears welled up again. John held out his arms and she stepped into them. The light in the parking lot only dimly lit this corner but he didn’t need it to feel how perfectly her body fit into his. Her head rested on his shoulder, her arms curled up, one hand again covering her mouth as if to silence the emotions that spilled out. He gentled her and realized that he relaxed as she calmed. Perhaps it wasn’t she who needed him but he who needed her. The door of the restaurant opened, letting out a noisy foursome. Instinctively John turned her so they would not see her or her tears. “I think I know exactly what you need,” he murmured into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. She smelled like a spice, not a flower and it suited her. Taking a steadying breath, she looked up at him, her composure slowly returning. “Oh?” He nodded. “Yep. The night is still young and I—” The stricken look on her face made him realize the enormity of the error he was about to make. Without missing a beat, he changed his mind and headed off in an entirely different direction. “Wouldn’t mind walking off some of that meal. Would madam care for a walk along the lakeshore?” That got him a tentative smile and a nod. “Shall we?” John handed her inside the SUV before climbing in through the driver’s door, starting up and pulling out of the lot.

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Once the playground of the city’s rich and poor alike, only one bathhouse still remained on the sandy beaches of Lake Ontario north of Rochester and one lonely carousel that still gave rides every summer. On a beautiful summer’s eve like tonight, the jetty out along the Genesee River would be teeming with people enjoying the fresh air. Abbot’s ice-cream stand would be doing a brisk business and the Penny Arcade would have a crowd spilling onto the sidewalks. As expected, traffic was heavier the closer to the lake they got. He pulled into a parking lot off to the right, finding a spot far from the action. Lauren had gone quiet on him, so he simply got out and went around to her side of the car. She beat him to it this time, jumping out of the big vehicle just as he got there. The uneven ground, however, wasn’t meant for her heels and she stumbled. John caught her in his arms, liking how she fit. She looked up, her face dimly lit by a lamp too far away for its light to do more than glimmer in this corner of the lot. He couldn’t resist and bent down to brush her lips with his. He intended just a small kiss. Honest. Just a taste. But her body molded to his and the kiss deepened. Her fingers pressed against his chest in hungry exploration and he responded, tightening his hold and pulling her closer. When they parted, a sultry gleam glimmered in her eyes. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to take a walk tonight,” she murmured. John stepped back, unsure if she meant what he thought she meant. He took her chin and gently turned her face to the light. The sultry look flickered a moment before settling into place. He dropped his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” “That’s not what I… John…” He reached around her and opened the door. “Let’s talk. Inside.” John put the windows down, letting the fresh-water scent of the lake blow through. The breeze lifted strands of Lauren’s hair, giving him a perfect opportunity. Leaning over, he tucked a stray behind her ear and pulled her close to him, kissing her again to let her know he wasn’t angry. Her lips felt hungry under his, except he didn’t really know what she was hungry for. For that matter, he wasn’t sure what he wanted either. But he knew she pulled at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Despite her damaged psyche, she intrigued him. He deepened the kiss before ending it, pleased when she didn’t pull away. When it ended, for several seconds, neither said anything. The sounds of the lakeshore’s nightlife wafted in on the night air. When they finally spoke, they overlapped each other. “John, I really like you…” “Lauren, I don’t know what you want…” He smiled and she chuckled nervously. With a gesture, she indicated he should go first. Reaching over, he took her hand in his. “I really enjoyed dinner tonight.”

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“So did I.” “More than I thought I would.” That surprised her. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” “Yesterday you caught my eye with not only your skill on the field but your charm afterward.” Lauren snorted. She’d flirted, yes. But been charming? She doubted that. “If I hadn’t been intrigued, I wouldn’t have asked for a date.” His tone mildly scolded and Lauren nodded, unrepentant. She took refuge in humor when people got too close. And John treaded far too near the line. “So now I have a dilemma. I can take you to my house and have my way with you…” “Tied and made love to all night long, I believe was your promise.” She meant to egg him on, get him angry so he’d just take her home, since it was becoming increasingly clear to her that he was trying to let her down gently. “It was,” he agreed without a trace of rancor in his voice. “I find myself, however, asking if tonight’s the right night to do that.” “It is Sunday night. I suppose you have work in the morning? Summer school or some such?” “No, I don’t teach in the summers. It’s my time to do research.” Damn him. He remained unflappable, even as she got snippier. “Lauren, I like you. I’d like to get to know you more. But you deflect every question, every topic that has to do with you. I could still take you home, tie you up and make love to you all night long, except that I’d only be making love to your body, not your heart. And I already know I want more than that with you. You deserve more than that.” His hand squeezed hers but she had no strength to squeeze back. Her thoughts whirled. How did you argue with a man who understood you needed more than just a one-night stand? What woman would complain about a man who wanted her for more than just her body? Finally she nodded. “Thank you.” She looked over at him, glad for the shadows that prevented him from seeing the tear that escaped. “I’m not used to… I’ve kept people at a distance for a long time. It’s hard for me to let anyone in.” “I know.” His voice sounded soft, reassuring. “I will only come in as far as you want me to. I’m not going to force you.” His hand squeezed hers. “But know I’m not going away. I’m very serious when I say I want to know you better.” “Thank you. I want to know you better too.” “Even though neither of us has anything pressing to do tomorrow, I think I should be getting you home.”

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Lauren nodded, liking the feel of his goatee on the back of her hand as he gave it a chaste kiss. They drove to her apartment in near silence, each thinking over the other’s comments. Although she didn’t say anything as he drove down the streets, her hands, clenched together on her lap, told him all he needed to know. He also knew he couldn’t rush her. Her breathing had returned to normal and some of the tension had gone from her shoulders. Didn’t matter. She’d have nightmares tonight. So would he. Stopping in front of her apartment, he turned off the engine. “Lauren…” She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips. “Thank you, John. I really enjoyed myself tonight. It’s been awhile since I let myself…” He waited as she struggled for the right words. “Since I let my guard down,” she finished. “I’m honored you felt safe enough with me to do that.” Lauren chuckled. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re right. ‘Safe’ is the operative word here. There’s something about you that makes me want to curl up in your arms and…” “And?” She shrugged and her head dipped down. Her hair fell like a curtain in front of her face and John knew she’d made the movement deliberately. She wasn’t quite ready to share all her secrets with him. When she didn’t answer, he took her hand, running his thumb along the length of her slender fingers. “Lauren, you are safe with me. And to prove it, I’m going to walk you to that door and see you inside and then I’m going to go away and not press my advantage when you’re feeling vulnerable.” Her head shot up at that. “Vulnerable? I’m a big girl and can take care of myself, thank you very much.” Obviously he’d hit a nerve. Patient, he sat and waited. Finally, she caved and smiled. “Okay, so maybe I need a little help now and again.” She grinned and John liked seeing her so relaxed. “But I’m not totally helpless, you know.” “I know. I’d like to see you again.” “Even after my meltdown?” “Probably because of your meltdown.” She arched her eyebrow at him. “Oh? I appeal to your knight’s sense of chivalry? You’re going to rescue a damsel in distress?” Her voice had gone cold and John suddenly realized the thin ice he stood on. There was some truth to her statement but there was more too. He liked her. He’d found her competent on the field of battle, so to speak, been intrigued enough by her beauty to ask her out and then enjoyed their banter over dinner. Until her meltdown she’d been pretty close to a normal date. 36

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Then she’d shown him a deeper side that he’d only caught glimpses of before, a side that had seen the same horrors he had. How many women had gone screaming into the night because of his nightmares? Lauren wouldn’t. John was sure of it. He couldn’t let her go. His head tilted a little to the side as if considering. “Probably there is some of that.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Honor and glory and all that. And a mother who’d smack me upside the head if I didn’t show proper respect to women.” She smiled at that, but the air of waiting still hung between them. He wasn’t off the hook yet. “Truth is, you intrigue me. I want to see you again because you’re fun to be with, you’re cute,” he paused to bop her nose with his finger before going serious again, “and I see some of myself in you.” She dropped her pretense. “I’d like to see you again too, John. Not,” she added quickly, “because I see you as my knight in shining armor swooping in to rescue me from the dragons of my nightmares, although,” she raised her shoulders in a gesture of surrender, “having someone to do that does cross my mind now and again.” Lauren raised the latch of the door and stepped out. As John came around the front of the car, she completed her thought. “I’d like to see you again because you’re one of the good guys.” He laughed outright at that. “Then I’d best not tarnish my reputation, Miss Lauren. Shall I see you to your door?” “I’d be delighted if you would, Mr. McAllen.” She’d put on an excellent Southern drawl and he couldn’t help but laugh again. At the door to her apartment, he waited as she unlocked the door. When he heard the door down the hall snick open, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Shall we give Mrs. Boorman something more to discuss with the neighbors?” Lauren stifled a giggle and turned to face him. “You do have a mean streak, John McAllen.” She smiled coyly. “I like that in a man.” “Stop talking, Miss Lauren.” To be sure she followed his orders, he covered her lips with his. She was soft and pliant in his arms and for a moment John regretted his decision to be honorable. When she pressed back, he pulled her closer but didn’t push his advantage. Releasing her, he let his arms drop. “‘Til next time?” He pushed open her door. “‘Til next time,” she answered and floated inside. The door shut and John glanced down the hall and saw the squinting eyes of Mrs. Boorman. He nodded his head and tipped his imaginary hat before sauntering down the hall, down the stairs and out to his car. Tonight had been a promising beginning.

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Chapter Four Lauren leaned against the door, still feeling the touch of his lips on hers. She wanted him. Desperately. So much so she made a half move to open the door and call him back. Her hand stayed on the doorknob, though, not turning it as second thoughts set in. She’d wondered what it would be like to kiss a man with a goatee and she’d certainly found out. His beard and mustache tickled a little, but she found it arousing. A man like John McAllen would know how to use that tickle to great advantage. In the darkness of her apartment, she smiled wickedly, thinking about how those whiskers would feel if he were to go down on her. Dropping her purse on the small table, she turned to lean against the door. She remembered his arms around her, how comforted she’d felt, how protected. Tie her up and make love to her? With those muscles? She didn’t have a chance. The more she thought about it, the hornier she got. Maybe she should’ve persuaded him to come in and ravish her. That kiss certainly held promise. She shook her head as she pushed herself away from the door. No, she’d done the right thing. They both had. She wanted more from John McAllen than a one-nighter and she’d certainly gotten the impression he did too. A night-light in the bathroom gave her plenty of light to make her way to the bedroom, her mind still filled with thoughts of his kiss. Shedding her little black dress, she thought of what it would be like to have his powerful hands sliding the straps down her arms, resting on her waist and pulling her toward him. Her eyes slid to the drawer in the nightstand. Yes, definitely a night for her little toy. Quickly, she took off the rest of her clothes and pulled out the vibrator that had become her best friend over the past few months. About eight inches long and only an inch in diameter, the motor on this little puppy had proven worth the price she’d paid for it. While overseas, a former boyfriend had sent her a stuffed panda bear as a romantic gift. Lauren hadn’t much cared for the boyfriend by then, but the panda fit under her shoulder just right when she slept. A night hadn’t gone by since that she hadn’t slept with that stuffed animal. Nameless, it had received her tears when she’d been upset, been thrown against walls when she’d been frustrated, and served as a wonderful pressure point when she’d needed sexual relief. Turning the vibe to high, she placed it so the tip sat right over her clit and almost came right away. She fell onto the bed, grabbed the panda and shoved it between her legs so it would hold the vibe in place, then rolled onto her stomach. Perfect.

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She thought of John’s arms again and those incredible shoulders. Her hand wouldn’t even cover his entire shoulder, she realized. His body, so powerful, so graceful, could cover hers completely. He’d rein in that power, his touch light and gentle as his hands explored her body, finding the spots that were ticklish, finding the spots that made her putty in his hands. And then? When he’d turned her muscles to jelly, would he press his advantage? Would he get out the ropes and tie her up for real? Lauren had had that fantasy before. What woman hadn’t? Of being tied and taken. All the fun and none of the responsibility. But John would make her responsible. He’d want her to submit willingly, she just knew it. The tension between her legs jumped exponentially. To put herself at his mercy? She imagined the ropes around her wrists and ankles, his hands roaming across her skin at will, the vulnerability, his goatee brushing against her skin, his hot breath across her pussy. With a cry, she let herself fall over the edge, her body convulsing in waves of pleasure as John’s imaginary tongue flicked across her clit. Giving up the fantasy, she rode the waves as they broke and grew smaller. Only when the last of them ebbed away did she grin and roll over. Damn but he was good—and he wasn’t even here. She glanced at the clock and laughed out loud. She’d set a record. John couldn’t be more than two miles away yet and here she lay, fully sated at his envisioned hands. Sitting up, she pulled the panda and vibe from between her legs, shutting off the battery-operated piece of bliss. “Tomorrow,” she promised herself. “Tomorrow I’ll get my act together.”

***** Of course Beth wanted details. “C’mon, girl. Tell me! Did you let him get lucky?” Lauren made coffee, as at home in Beth’s kitchen as she was in her own. Probably more so. Behind her, the baby played on a blanket Beth had laid out on the floor of the kitchen, her attention caught as much as by her own feet as by the tripod of toys that dangled above her. “No way,” Lauren teased as she spooned coffee into the filter. “I don’t kiss and tell.” “Why not? I do.” Beth had been pretty forthcoming about the relationship she and Paul had forged. Over the years, Lauren had learned to rely on Beth’s instincts in so many things. A natural leader, it was easy to let Beth plan everything and just go along with her. Paul, apparently, had discovered the same thing. Lauren liked Paul. He reminded her of herself. Easygoing, laid-back, not ambitious. No, Paul wasn’t that last. That adjective belonged solely to her. She was the one who couldn’t get herself moving in any direction. The status quo fit her just fine, even if it

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put her in a rut. A rut she’d been enjoying quite well, thank you, until John had come along. “Yeah, well, you and Paul have an interesting…sex life.” “And you need one.” Lauren bent down and pushed a triangle on Emily’s toy to set it swinging. “I don’t want any more short-timers, Beth. Look at this.” She stood and gestured to the homey kitchen, the baby on the floor, the settled feel of the entire scene. “I’m ready for this. And I’m not going to get it if all I do is satisfy my lust.” Beth narrowed her eyes as if Lauren had become an interesting artifact that needed careful study. “Are you really ready for this? For the diapers and the crying and the mortgage and staying home because you can’t get a sitter? Are you really?” Lauren snorted. “Okay, maybe not entirely ready.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But I’m getting there. At least I’ve finally figured out that I do want it. You have to give me credit for that.” The timer on the coffeemaker dinged and Beth got up from the table to pour two cups. “It’s a huge step for you, Lauren. I know that. And I’m glad to see you make it.” Lauren heard the finality in Beth’s voice, a finality that implied, “I hear what you’re saying but pardon me if I don’t believe you”. Not that she blamed Beth. Lauren had been pretty hard to live with these past few months. She sighed. “I guess I’ve been pretty full of myself. I’m sorry, Beth.” Beth chuckled. “You had a right to be. I won’t pretend to understand what you went through over there.” She handed a mug to Lauren and sat beside her. “I’m glad to hear you talking about the future. That’s a good step forward.” “And I’m thinking it’s a future that might just include Big John, if I didn’t scare him away last night.” At Beth’s inquiring eyebrow, Lauren related the fiasco in the parking lot. “Yeah, but he didn’t run away,” Beth pointed out when Lauren finished. “He made a point to give Mrs. Boorman something to gossip about. In fact, you’re going to find your reputation in the apartment complex seriously discussed by the time you get home today.” Lauren laughed. “He didn’t run away. And that’s why I think this one might be—” She stopped and shook her head. “Nope. Not going to say it. Don’t want to jinx it.” “Are you going out with him again?” Before she could answer, her cell phone gave out a chickadee’s chirp. With a blush, Lauren stood up. “I’m about to find out. This is him.” Lauren made for the back deck, sliding the glass door shut behind her as she answered John’s call with a forced gaiety in her voice. “Morning!” “Thought I’d call and see how you were this morning.” His voice sounded husky, as if he’d just gotten up. Lauren found it extremely sexy.

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“I’m doing quite well, thank you. I don’t stay down for long.” She rolled her eyes. Could she possibly be more inane? “Good to hear. There’s a band playing at Parker’s this Friday night. Would you care to join me?” Lauren’s heart beat hard. He wanted to see her again. Tossing her head and affecting a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she answered, “I’d love to. Shall I meet you there? Or…” She banged the heel of her hand on her forehead. She was such an idiot. She didn’t want to meet him there, she wanted him to pick her up and ravish her. Hadn’t he promised to tie her up? Focus, Carr, focus. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t eat. If you can last until we get there, they have great chicken wings.” “You’re on.” “See you Friday.” “See you Friday!” She shut the phone and groaned. The door slid open immediately. “Well? Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. Did he ask you out again?” Lauren nodded. “I sounded like a star-struck teenager. I can’t believe I got tonguetied!” Beth wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure he’ll manage to straighten out that tongue if you give him half a chance.” Laughing, they went inside, Beth already giving her clothing suggestions and pickup lines. John snapped shut his phone and stared at it, puzzled. Lauren sounded particularly chipper this morning. Bright. Perky. Not adjectives he would’ve used to describe her based on either of their two previous meetings. Was he rushing things to ask her out on another date so soon? Then he remembered the pliant feel of her lips under his. She felt good in his arms. No, she felt incredible in his arms. Yeah, perky or not, Lauren Carr deserved another chance. Through the front window of his bungalow John saw Will pull into his driveway. How long had his friend had that beat-up, old Chevy truck? The red paint had long given way to rust in several places, the tailgate latch replaced with a twist of heavy rope and the springs had sprung years ago. Yet Will clung to the truck as if it were the love of his life. John opened the front door as Will rolled down his window. “Gotta hit the hardware store. Wanna come with me?” “Give me five minutes. Need to find my sneakers.” John couldn’t figure out where his sneakers disappeared to each night. Hadn’t he taken them off yesterday in his bedroom when he went to get dressed for his date with

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Lauren? Nope. Not there. Not in the bathroom or his closet either. He circled around through the living room, into the kitchen and found them beside the back door. That’s right. He’d mowed the lawn and taken them off because they were full of grass. Quickly he opened the door and slapped them, soles together, until most of the dried grass had fallen off. Shoes on, he grabbed his keys, patted his back pocket to be sure he had his wallet and headed out the door. “What’re we shopping for?” John asked, closing the door gingerly lest it fall off its rusty hinges. The screech of metal on metal made him wince. “A can of WD-40, I hope.” “Suppose I probably should give her a splash on that door.” “More like a quart.” Will pulled out of the drive and headed down the street, both windows rolled down in the summer heat. John didn’t bother protesting, The AC had stopped working on this old thing long ago. He looked over at his friend and shook his head. “I cannot see Jill allowing you to keep this rust bucket.” Will’s grin showed his dimples. Jill had often told John it was those dimples that caught her eye and his skill with a rope that captured her heart. Lauren had dimples like that. Would Lauren appreciate John’s skill with a rope? Or would she call the cops on him? “Jill knows better than to come between a man and his vehicle.” John snorted. “This beast long ago lost the privilege of being called a vehicle.” A movement near his foot caught his eye and he sat back in surprise. “Is that a hole in the floor?” “Yeah, it’s new. One of the reasons I’m headed to the store. Figured a strong piece of plywood’ll do it.” “Do what? Will, I feel like Barney Rubble. Are you sure Dino’s not in the backseat?” Will laughed outright at that and turned onto the highway. “Hold on, you’re liable to feel a draft.” Between the wide-open windows and the air rushing up through the hole in the floor, John didn’t even make an attempt at conversation. Will’s dirty-blonde hair, kept in a tidy ponytail for the summer’s reenacting, stayed out of his face. John didn’t have that problem. Too many years in the service trained him to like it nearly nonexistent and easy. They pulled in to the hardware store and John went in with his friend. Inside they parted ways as Will went in search of a short-term solution to his newly air-conditioned truck and John just wandered until he found himself in the rope aisle thinking of Lauren. The first day they’d met he’d told her he would tie her up and make love to her all night long. When he’d said it, he really hadn’t had much more than a fun night in the

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sack in mind. Then she’d gotten skittish over his time in the military. When followed up by a panic attack, it just hadn’t seemed right to prey on her vulnerability. He picked up the end of a particularly thick white rope and considered it. This would be good for an overall tie. A loose one, anyway. Pretty hard to make tight knots with something that thick. He imagined Lauren’s skin crisscrossed with the white and let the rope drop. No. Her coloring needed something with a little more contrast. A slightly thinner black rope had possibilities. This would look quite good wrapped around her body, securing her, keeping her safe. Will came up beside him and John dropped the rope back into place. With a sigh. “Probably going too fast to tie her up in that yet. I don’t even know if she’s going to like her sex kinky.” “Jill likes it. I bought fifty feet and she made me come back for fifty more.” “It works well?” Will nodded. “Very well. She can’t get out of it at all.” “I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Did you get your plywood?” “Yep. They’re cutting it to size now.” The two sauntered over to the counter and picked up the makeshift floor. As they left the store, John glanced back and grinned. “You try telling women hardware stores are sexy places to shop.” “They’re the best! Come on, let’s get this in.” Together they slid the precut plywood into place on the floor. John sat on the seat and tried it out, stomping on it to test it. “Okay, don’t stomp too hard or I’ll need a bigger piece of wood. There’s rust falling every time you stomp,” Will told him. “I think you need a new truck, Will.” “Yeah, I suppose.”

***** Will dropped him back at his place. “Don’t forget, two weekends from now—huge reenactment coming up.” John made a face. “It’s on my calendar. Wouldn’t miss the one hundred fiftieth anniversary of Antietam.” “Next few years are going to be packed with reenactments. You got in at just the right time, newbie.” Will grinned and shook his head. “They’re expecting a couple thousand of us. Gonna be one hell of a weekend, I’ll tell you that.” “Jill coming?” “You betcha. She’s got a dress and everything. Hey! Bring Lauren!” John laughed and got out of the truck. “One step at a time, bud. One step at a time.”

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“Have fun tying up Lauren!” John shut the door and Will’s truck wheezed and sputtered down the drive. Shaking his head, he went inside to examine his bag of bondage toys and make some decisions about how to craft the best scene for a newbie of a different sort.

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Chapter Five Lauren dressed casually, looking as if she’d just thrown on a few things suitable for dinner at a local pub. She wore a full, flowered skirt that swished when she walked, a matching solid T-shirt in soft rose and a celery-green scarf that picked up the colors of her skirt. She wore flat sandals of dark brown, her hair gently pulled back from her face with the artful use of combs and a pair of cloisonné earrings dangled at her ears. Of course, it had taken three outfit changes, several hairstyles and no fewer than six different pairs of earrings to achieve this thrown-together look. The knock on her door came promptly at seven. With a final smoothing touch to her hair, she picked up her clutch purse and opened the door. Damn, but why did men have it so easy? He wore an open-necked blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up. A simple brown belt held up jeans just tight enough to show off his ass, even if she couldn’t see it from here. Tonight he wore a Stetson, which he now pushed back on his head as he gave a low whistle. “You clean up mighty fine, Miss Lauren. Mighty fine.” She laughed. “And good evening to you too, Mr. McAllen.” He held out his arm and she took it, pulling her door firmly shut behind her. With a quick twist of the doorknob to be sure it had locked, she set herself proudly, gave Mrs. Boorman a swish of skirt and disappeared down the hall with her young man. “Hope you’ve had a good day,” he remarked as they walked to the curb where his SUV sat waiting. “I did. And you?” “Quite fine. Thought up all sorts of activities for us.” The way he said the words gave her shivers. Activities? For them? Immediately her thoughts flew back to his threat to tie her up and make love to her. But they were at the car and he’d opened the door for her. Instead of taking his bait, she simply smiled coyly and accepted his hand up. Parker’s, a mid-sized pub with lots of live music and friendly banter, lived up to John’s promise of excellent chicken wings. Hot for him, mild for her. “No thanks,” she told him when they ordered. “I like the lining of my throat, thank you very much.” The band’s equipment sat ready for them in the corner, but as yet, no one had come forward to play. The waitress delivered their wings and a beer for each of them. Lauren gestured to the array. “What time do they start?” The waitress grinned. “Whenever they get here.” Lauren only raised an eyebrow and the waitress explained. “MishMASH is a unique group of guys. You’ll see. I expect they’ll be coming in soon.” 45

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She left and John explained. “These are all older guys who get together and play for the fun of it. They have a standing gig here to play every Friday night. The setup you see there?” He gestured to the mikes and speakers, the drum set covered with a drop cloth and a low piano that had seen better years. “That all belongs to the owner here. He provides it for bands who don’t have the money—or roadies—to bring their own stuff.” “And MishMASH doesn’t have a lot of their own stuff.” “Right.” At her doubtful look, John just gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love them.” They dove into the chicken wings, the honey sauce of the mild wings dripping from her fingers and the tangier hot sauce making John grab for the celery and bleu cheese. Their banter, light and frivolous, felt just fine to Lauren and she relaxed into the ease of the evening as she downed her second beer. John listened to Lauren tell him about a band she’d heard play overseas and noted how her guard seemed to be down tonight. She spoke of being away from home as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From his own experiences, he understood how two extremes could live in the same psyche. There were times he “forgot” about his years in the desert. There were times he actually thought he enjoyed it. And then there were times when the nightmares came. Tonight Lauren remembered only the good things. He liked watching the way her eyes sparkled as she told the story of the band’s mishaps. He wondered if she’d been a groupie, she seemed to know so much about them. But then her eyes widened and her head dropped as if she didn’t want to be seen. A hand dropped on his shoulder and he turned as a loud voice boomed out. “Hey, John, how the hell are you?” John looked up, relieved to see Pete, the lead singer of MishMASH. “Hey, Pete. I’d shake your hand, but…” he gestured with the chicken wing he held as an excuse. Pete laughed. “It’s okay, bud. I’ll excuse you this time. Who’s your friend?” Lauren looked up and John could swear he saw guilt in her eyes. “Lauren! I didn’t know you were back in town!” “Hey, Pete.” Her voice was faint and her smile weak. Obviously they’d met before and Lauren didn’t want to renew the friendship. Pete didn’t seem to notice. “This’ll be great. All the guys are here. Ted, Shaheim, Sinbad. Hey, don’t tell them you’re here. Let’s spring a surprise on ’em!” “No, that’s—” “I gotta go get set up. This’ll be so cool!” 46

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“Pete, I…” Lauren called after him, but the singer had already left. John simply raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Lauren dropped her chicken wing onto her plate and sat back. “Damn it. The band I was telling you about? This is them.” She closed her eyes then opened them in entreaty. “John, I didn’t know…” “And Pete’s the lead singer you…spent some time with.” She nodded. “It was nothing. You can see that. He didn’t even try to kiss me.” John understood perfectly. Liaisons overseas in the heat of battle had urgency and meaning that faded upon returning home. He had a few of those in his past as well. Yet, with Lauren, he wanted something more. She would understand his demons just as much as he understood hers. When he told her about them. Tonight, however, her relationships and demons came first. “We don’t need to stay.” For a moment he thought she would take him up on his offer to leave. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and put both hands, palms down, on the table. “I’d like to stay. But I need another beer.” John grinned. “That’s the spirit. Give ’em hell right back at ’em.” That made her laugh out loud and John liked the sound. “We were together in the hospital unit,” she explained. She nodded with her chin as she picked up her wing again. “Ted and Shaheim were orderlies, Pete was another of the nurses. I never knew Sinbad real well, but you can tell which one he is.” “The big, black, bald drummer?” “Right the first time.” “Not his real name, I hope.” She laughed. “I doubt it. He never said much. Was pretty quiet.” With Sinbad on drums, Ted on the bass and Shaheim on piano, Pete rounded out the quartet with lead guitar. With no introduction, they launched into a rousing rendition of Anchors Aweigh, getting the patrons to join in on the chorus. John had heard them play several times here at Parker’s and always enjoyed their liveliness. Watching them with Lauren, however, made him thoughtful. He wasn’t concerned about the fact that she’d slept with Pete. That was over there and had no bearing on over here. No, there was something else. Another dynamic at play here he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The band launched into the Army’s song and again, the crowd joined in to keep those “caissons a’rolling along”. From there they went to the “halls of Montezuma” in a salute to the nation’s Marine Corp. From experience he knew they’d launch into the “wild blue yonder” next. Beside him, Lauren chimed in on the choruses for each of the military songs, applauding and whistling with her fingers between her lips at the end. Her third beer was already gone. John knew that was going to be either very good or very bad. 47

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“And now, I’d like to call on an old friend to come up here and sing the last song in this set.” The band members exchanged puzzled glances. John frowned. The four songs of the armed units of the US military forces were the only four in this set. He knew their routine. “Ladies and gentlemen, a special treat tonight. Fresh back home, the Siren of Iraq herself, Lauren Carr!” The three guys in the band broke out in grins. John looked at Lauren, who stepped into the limelight with only a small smile of apology for him. She must’ve known what Pete was going to do and even though she’d protested, she’d decided to stay and sing. With mixed feelings, John watched her take the mike like a pro and nod to the others in the band. The opening notes gave away the number and a smattering of applause greeted the familiar tune. For over ten years it had been the theme song of a popular TV series, although John doubted that more than a handful of viewers actually knew the lyrics. But he did. And so did Lauren. Her voice, a soft, sexy alto sang out the words, “Through the early morning fog I see…” She swayed with the music, losing herself in it. When she got to the words “suicide is painless”, John saw her close her eyes in pain and he had to wonder just how much was an act. Why hadn’t he put it together earlier? MishMASH they called themselves. They started every evening with the same four songs to salute the military. He knew they were all former soldiers, but it never occurred to him that they might have served together in a hospital over there. Not until Lauren stood to sing that haunting song. She finished, opened her eyes and bowed to the audience who sat mesmerized under her spell. Breaking it, she threw up her hands in a whoop and called out to the band, “Come on, boys, let’s finish with a flourish!” Shaheim pounded out the opening notes of Great Balls of Fire and she and Pete shared vocals on the rousing number. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was incredibly good. She’d given him no hint of the talent that lay inside her. Her showmanship put the audience in the palm of her hand. It ended and the house erupted in applause. She was a hit. Giving each of the band members a hug, she waved one last time to the audience and came to rejoin him at their table. “I hope you don’t mind. That was…unexpected. And fun.” “You’ve performed with them before.” John wanted to curse the inanity of the obvious, but he couldn’t quite figure out his feelings all of a sudden. “I did.” She pushed away the remaining now-cold chicken wing and downed the rest of the beer, apparently not realizing she had just finished off his second bottle. The waitress had come through and cleaned out the three Lauren had already polished off. “Do you want to stay for the rest of the set?”

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She shook her head as if suddenly realizing he might be upset. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather not get into a prolonged conversation with them. We’d be here all night.” John signaled for the check, paid it, and stood to go. By the time they left, the band had cycled through a ballad, another sing-along and was moving into a Coldplay piece. Lauren waved and blew them kisses they promptly returned and the two made their way out into the fading twilight. Lauren felt light on her feet. The music had put her in a wonderful mood. She hadn’t sung like that since being home. They’d had some good times over there. The one-night stand with Pete she had brushed out of her memory and she gave it a mental swat as it tried to nag at her now. And beer? How long since she’d indulged in a glass of beer? No, more than a glass. She giggled at the thought and, at John’s glance at her, tried to put on a straight face. Yeah, she’d had more than a glass tonight, that was for darn sure. “I’m not drunk,” she announced. “I didn’t think you were.” He handed her into the SUV with the same polite care he always took of her. “You didn’t expect me to sing.” He shrugged and closed the door. For some reason that miffed her. When he got in the other side, she confronted him. “You didn’t think I could sing.” “I never really thought much about it. You have a good voice.” “Thank you.” He started the car and she couldn’t decide whether to pout or not. Hadn’t he just said she had a good voice? Why did she think she’d been insulted? He took the turn to her apartment and she shook her head. Somehow she’d blown it tonight. Or he had. Not that she’d wanted to go to bed with him tonight. Hadn’t she just told Beth she wanted something more? Why couldn’t she think straight? The SUV stopped at the curb of her building, but John made no move to get her door as he usually did. He sat back, looking at her, and Lauren shrugged guiltily. “Guess I probably shouldn’t have gotten up to sing. That wasn’t very polite of me to leave you at the table like that.” Did she just slur her words? “Is that what you think?” “You haven’t said a word since we got in the car. I don’t know what to think.” John put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head toward him. Leaning forward, he gave her a chaste kiss. “I think you had a good time with some former friends.” “I had a good time with you.” She smiled. “They just happened to be there. To be honest, I didn’t even know any of them were back in the States yet.” “But you’re glad they are.”

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“Of course I am.” She sat back, puzzled. “No one wants to see anyone left over there. Do the job and get home, that’s what I feel we should do.” “Lauren, you’re drunk.” She pulled herself upright, ready to argue with him. But then her breath came out in a rush. “Okay, you got me there. Not drunk, but certainly feeling no pain.” “I’m going to take you inside and put you to bed.” “Only if you’re going to crawl in with me.” He chuckled and got out of the car, coming around to open her door. Lauren let him, deciding she liked this game of chivalry he played with her. He handed her down and she stumbled against his chest. Damn but she liked that chest. She put her palm on his shirt, feeling the strength of his pecs hidden beneath it. “You shouldn’t hide these muscles, you know. I’m betting they’re beautiful.” “That’s it, young lady. You’re officially off limits now.” He picked her up and carried her to the front door. “Mrs. Boorman is going to get quite the show tonight.” Once inside, Lauren headed for the stairs for the short walk up to her apartment, but missed the first step. John laughed at her again and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and it echoed in the stairwell. Lauren tried to shush the sound, but it just got louder. “John, put me down. You’re going to wake the whole building!” “It’s not me who’s doing the shouting.” He deposited her, took the keys from her fingers and unlocked her apartment door. With a scoop, he picked her up again despite her protestations and carried her inside. Lauren nestled into his arms, feeling warm and cozy and once again protected. Damn him. Why was he always coming to her rescue? She didn’t need rescuing. Or maybe she did. Despite what he thought, she wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, yes. And she wanted him. John tucked the blanket firmly around her shoulders, effectively pinning her hands underneath. “I want to make love to you, Lauren Carr. But when I do, you will be fully awake, fully sober and fully willing to put yourself in my hands.” “You’re not going to make love to me tonight?” John smiled at the childlike simplicity in her voice. “No, Lauren. I’m not. I’ve a raging hard-on for you and I’m going to go home anyway. Good night.” He gave her a chaste goodnight peck on the forehead, smoothed her brow and watched her fall asleep. He hadn’t lied about the hard-on. His pants were uncomfortably tight and temptation lay there looking sexy and ready. But it wouldn’t be right. Damn his sense of chivalry. He shook his head, smiling regretfully at the snoring form of the woman he’d hoped to bed tonight. He sat on the bed and simply watched her sleep for several minutes. Several strands of hair had come loose so he leaned over and pulled out the combs holding it back from her face. Soft 50

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wisps of dark brown glided over her shoulders and John pushed them back with his fingertip. In sleep, the lines of her face softened and he saw what she must’ve looked like before. Before growing up, before getting older, before going overseas and living in that hell. He dropped his hand to his side. He couldn’t judge her. He’d lived through the same hell and had the same scars. With a pang of regret, he stood. Just two old soldiers trying to put their lives back together, that’s all they were. He gave the blanket one last tuck, stood, and went home.

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Chapter Six Lauren woke the next morning, fully dressed, a mouth filled with cotton and with a more-than-minor headache. Somewhere close by a siren blared and as she rolled over, she realized the siren’s call came from the phone beside her bed. She grabbed the receiver and hit several buttons on it in an attempt to shut it up. “Lauren? Lauren, are you there?” Bleary eyed, she stared at it for several seconds before she realized her sister’s voice came from the receiver in her hand. She put it to her ear. “Yeah, I’m here. Although I might be dead.” “Lauren, it’s nearly eleven and you said you’d be here before ten to help with the setup for—” “Oh, my God. Annie, I’m so sorry. I overslept. I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and only afterward realized her sister had been still talking. Throwing back the covers, she stared in confusion at the clothes she still wore from last night, the skirt a tangle around her legs, the T-shirt wrinkled and, she sniffed it, smelling like beer? How many had she drunk last night? She knew better than to drink more than one beer. Her inability to hold her liquor had been a big joke overseas. Overseas. MishMASH. Singing with the band. She groaned. How could she have done that to John? Just left him like that and gone up and done an entire set? Was it an entire set? Or only a few songs? It didn’t matter. He’d taken her out for dinner and she’d blown him off to hang out with…oh my God. Pete. She’d once had a fling with Pete. Did John know? Had she told him when she’d rambled on like an idiot about the band she’d “heard” overseas? Groaning, she stripped out of her clothes. Hoping a shower would help and knowing it would only be painful, she turned the water on hot and forced herself to suck it up. Getting slightly more than tipsy had consequences and she might as well face them. Her phone rang just as she searched for her keys. Tempted to let it go, she decided her sister had already yelled at her for being late, she might as well add a few more minutes to her tardiness. “Lauren here.” “How are you feeling today?” Why did that little bubble have to form in her throat at exactly the moment she heard his voice? “Fine,” she croaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

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The man had put her to bed and that was the best she could come up with? And you? Lauren rolled her eyes. “I’m doing quite well, thank you. I need to spend some time at the Rundel Library and wondered if you’d like to join me for some Dinosaur Barbecue later.” “Is there a band playing?” She liked the sound of his laugh. Maybe he wasn’t mad at her for her heinous behavior of the night before. “No band. Just good barbecue.” “I have to go help my sister with her garage sale but I’ll be done by five or so.” “Perfect. Meet me at the restaurant?” “I’ll be there.” Lauren hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Her behavior couldn’t have been too bad if he wanted to see her again. Of course, he wanted her to meet him there. That implied he didn’t want to have to take her home again. Could he be asking her out to let her down easy? The Dinosaur Barbecue wasn’t exactly a romantic place. It had begun life as a biker-bar kind of place. She tapped a finger on the phone, as she tried to puzzle it out. Outside a siren went by and Lauren jumped. Her sister’s—she was on her way to her sister’s and was already late. Putting thoughts of Big John to the side, she grabbed the keys John had so thoughtfully placed beside the phone and headed out the door. “So that’s it. You’re meeting him for dinner tonight again and you think it’s to let you down? Lauren, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” Lauren’s sister, Annie, put the littlest member of the family back into her playpen, gave her a toy and turned to Lauren. At thirty, Annie had settled, the twenty extra pounds from giving birth twice giving her a matronly air. “Ian, I can’t sell that if you’re playing with it!” she called out to her son, who at the moment was racing little toy cars along a long, yellow track. “Aww, Mom. Do you have to sell this?” “You haven’t played with it for three years. Yes, it’s going.” Lauren watched her nephew careening the toy cars through the loop-de-loop he’d set up and nudged her sister. “It’s new again because he hasn’t seen it in a while. How much you want for it?” “Two-fifty.” “Sold.” “Lauren, you don’t…” Lauren held up her hand. “I’ll keep it at the apartment. Then when he comes over, it’ll be new again. By the time he’s totally bored with it, Kasey will want it.” She nodded

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at the little girl in the playpen who rewarded her with a toothless smile as she banged her hand on a toy drum. “You’re a softie, Auntie Lauren,” her sister told her as she deposited Lauren’s money in the shoebox that served as a cash register. “Yeah, well. I only have one nephew and one niece so far, so I might as well spoil them.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “And what about your own? Maybe this John is—” Lauren held up her hand to stave off her sister’s words. “Stop right there. We’ve had two dates and dinner tonight will be the third. And probably the final.” Annie backed down but Lauren could tell from the set of her lips the subject wasn’t closed. Thankfully a car pulled up and the couple got out to come up the drive and look over the stuff for sale. Lauren went into the house to get a pitcher of lemonade while Annie negotiated a price with them for an old stepstool that really only needed a new coat of paint. “Sixty-six dollars and eighty-five cents,” Annie proclaimed at the end of the day. “Not bad for all the junk I got rid of.” “You running this again tomorrow?” Lauren asked, surveying the meager pickings that were left. “No. Let’s just box this stuff up and I’ll take it to the Salvation Army on Monday. Ian, go get the boxes from the living room, will you?” “Aww, Mom.” “Now, Ian.” Lauren winked at her nephew who grinned in return and they headed into the house together. As Ian grabbed two large boxes, Lauren picked up her wallet from the kitchen counter and dropped it into her jeans pocket. She held the door for him then followed him back to the garage where Annie had already begun to bag up the leftover clothes Ian had outgrown. “I’m headed out,” she told her sister. “Give him a kiss for me.” Lauren shook her head as Ian made a face. “You haven’t even met John.” At the name, Ian’s face lit up. “John? Is that the Civil War guy? He let me hold his rifle!” “Yes, Ian, the same John. I’m having barbecue with him tonight.” “Cool. I like him.” Annie grinned at her son’s approval. “You’ll have to bring him for dinner one of these nights. Or maybe next Sunday. We could do an old-fashioned Sunday dinner and—”

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Lauren stopped her. “Annie. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I’m driving myself to Dinosaur Barbecue and eating messy ribs with a guy I’ve known all of a week. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” “Well you’d better get changed. It’s nearly five now.” With a wave, Lauren walked to the street and down three houses where she’d parked her little runabout car. Five gears, manual transmission, four little chipmunks inside working their hearts out. She loved it. Great on gas, good on the road and just perfect for her. As she unlocked the door and got in she thought of John in the passenger seat and chuckled. His shoulders were so broad he’d take up most of the interior. With a sigh, she remembered the feel of those hard shoulders against her stomach. Had he really slung her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs? She remembered that part. Did Mrs. Boorman see him do that? With her luck? Probably. A quick glance at the clock on her dash told her she had just enough time to stop at her apartment and change into a dress. Maybe he was going to dump her and maybe not. But she’d go down fighting. John looked at his watch and swore. The traffic ahead of him didn’t move and Lauren would get there, wait for him…and wait for him…and wait for him until she got tired or, worse, thought he’d blown her off and leave. At his side, his cell phone gave a final chirrup as the battery gave up and John swore again. Lauren glanced at the clock in her car as she drove along the open lanes of the highway. An accident on the other side had traffic backed up for two miles. Glad she didn’t have to deal with that, she got off at the downtown exit and couldn’t believe her luck in getting a parking place right beside the restaurant. Of course, she gave the lot a quick examination out of habit before she reminded herself she didn’t need to do that. No one lay in wait to blow her up. Turning off the car, she checked her watch. Perfect timing. Using the rearview mirror for a final check of her lipstick, she took a moment to compose herself before getting out of the car. This was the important date. This was the make-or-break time. Putting a smile on her face, she got out of the car and waltzed into the restaurant to find John. Except he wasn’t there. She scanned the place and saw no sign of those magnificent shoulders. Feeling silly, she retreated outside to wait for him there at the door of the restaurant. A passing policeman gave her the once-over in her somewhat low-cut red dress and sexy sandals and Lauren beat a hasty retreat to her car. Better to wait inside than for the cops to think she was looking for a john. Well, she was, actually. A big John. And did he have a big Johnny to go with those wonderful shoulders? Appalled at the way her thoughts headed, she suppressed a giggle and turned the rearview mirror so she could see his SUV when he pulled in and settled in to wait. 55

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A half hour later she no longer found any cause to giggle. Had he stood her up? She checked her phone. No messages. Maybe she should call him? No, that would sound whiny. “John, I’m downtown waiting for you, are you going to bother showing up?” And that sounded bitchy. Had he planned this all along? Call her up, set up a date to dump her and then get cold feet and not show up? She thought him more of a man than that but cowardice came in many forms. Her stomach growled. Damn. And she really had her heart set on barbecued ribs too. Making a decision, she got out of the car, locked it and slammed it harder than she meant to. She could damn well eat without him. They did take-out here. She’d place her order, get her food and go home. Where she belonged. He pulled up just as she exited with her order. John saw her heading to her car and beeped his horn gently to catch her attention. Unfortunately, the manufacturers of his car horn didn’t think along the same lines he did and the horn blared out, the brashness startling even him. She jumped and scooted around to the other side of her vehicle, putting it between the noise and her body. He swore. “Idiot. You know better.” He didn’t even turn off the engine before he was out of the car with his hands out and open. “Lauren, it’s me. I’m sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic and—” She straightened, plastered a smile on her face and took a deep breath before stepping carefully around the front of her car. He could see her shaking and felt guilty. “I waited until I was too hungry to wait any more. I caved to the torture of sitting here smelling it.” “Don’t blame you. I’d have given in too.” They looked at one another and John realized he’d have to make the first step. He was, after all, the one who’d been late. “Would you mind eating that inside? We could still get a table.” “You still want to have a date?” John looked at her, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I?” Her guard remained up. “Just making sure.” Coming to her, he took the take-out package from her hands and gave her a light kiss. “I would very much like to go inside and eat dinner with you.” Her smile came tenuously, but it came. “It’s a deal.” She got a table for them while he waited in line and ordered. By the time he got his drink and joined her, all traces of their rough beginning seemed erased and they started with the light banter he so enjoyed from her. He explained about the dead cell phone and the accident on the bypass and she forgave him. They spoke of their day, Lauren telling stories about the people who’d come to the garage sale and John talked about the information he’d found researching the Civil War’s impact on the Rochester area. But 56

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then something caught her attention and that haunted look came back into her eyes. He turned to see what she looked at. A man wearing a military cap sat in a wheelchair in line. As the man turned, John saw he’d lost both legs. “Lauren, it…” She waved her hand. “Nothing worth talking about. Now, I believe you were telling me something about how sexy hardware stores are?” John let her steer the subject away from herself again, but knew the time of reckoning drew closer. If he wanted a fling, he wouldn’t care. He’d have wonderful, kinky, glorious sex with her and be done with it. But he did want more. He liked her. Peeling away her layers intrigued him because the more he peeled, the more he found to like. She loved kids, had a talent with nursing and had a sister. John assumed there was a brother-in-law to go with the sister since there was also a nephew and a niece, but Lauren hadn’t mentioned him other than to say his name was Dave. Lauren pushed her tray away and sat back, two ribs left on her plate. “That’s it for me, I’m done.” “Want to take them home?” “Sure, although I see my two ribs are the only ones left.” She gestured to his empty plate. “Told you I like my barbecue.” Lauren boxed up the remains of her dinner. “This’ll be a nice lunch for me tomorrow.” Out in the parking lot, John slid his arm around her as they maneuvered through the now-full lot. “Lauren, I don’t want this evening to end yet.” She looked up at him, the sun’s last rays making him glow like a knight in golden armor. “I don’t want it to end yet either, John.” Her eyes twinkled. Not only had he not broken up with her, he wanted to see more of her. How much more? Feeling daring, she put out her chin and challenged him. “As I recall, you once promised to tie me up and make love to me all night long.” John stepped closer. “Promises must be kept.” Lauren turned her face up toward him in challenge. “Yes, they must.” “Get in the car and drive. Follow me home.” “Your command is my wish.”

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Chapter Seven They pulled up to a modest, one-and-a-half-story house, the Cape Cod design giving it a very all-American family look. Lauren’s smile deepened to think that he might actually tie her down in a house with such a wholesome façade. But wasn’t that indicative of her as well? Her own passions burned deep behind the professional face she presented to the world. Her grin turned wry as she realized she no longer practiced her profession. Too many ghosts, too much hurt. She gave herself a mental shake and instead smiled up at him as they walked to the front door. “Last chance to back out,” he warned her as they went along the curved path to the front door. Low bushes and flowers grew beside the walkway, but the fact registered only dimly in her mind. “No backing out here. I’m holding you to your word.” Lauren hadn’t lied when she told him earlier that she counted on his tying her up and making love to her. She didn’t lie now. Didn’t matter that she’d never engaged in that kind of kinky sex. Didn’t matter that she’d never really given it a thought before. He’d planted the idea in her mind and she hadn’t been able to get the image out of her head since. It tantalized and teased her with stray thoughts of fear that, instead of paralyzing her, made her tingle in a very delicious way. Oh yeah. She very definitely wanted John McAllen to be a man of his word. Lauren let him lead her into his small house, part of her wanting to confess everything in her life to him, part of her wary out of habit. A tiny vestibule separated outside from inside, opening into a narrow hallway. John left her in the small area while he switched on a table lamp to his left. The tastefully appointed living room was done up in shades of forest green. A dark patterned area rug set the trim colors for the room with its tan and burgundy. The couch and easy chair matched—solid, forest green fabrics—and picked up the dark green in the narrow stripes of the drapes. A widescreen TV on the far wall boasted an array of electronics beneath it and Lauren recognized several game consoles among them. He pushed a button and soft jazz wafted through the room. A wide opening led to the dining room—she could just see the edge of the table from where she stood. Along the short corridor she stood in lay the kitchen, the light over the stove giving off its fluorescent glow. Beside her were two steps to a landing, then the stairway turned to run along the outside wall of the house to the second floor. Other than the living room rug and the one she stood on in the vestibule, the floors were bare and showed off the house’s original hardwood planking. From somewhere came the light scent of a pine forest. “This house fits you. I can see your hand all over it.” 58

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“Thank you, although I have to admit, my sister helped pick out the furnishings.” “Not a man to match colors?” she teased. “Can’t match patterns,” he corrected. “The colors are easy to see. But she laments that I think plaids and stripes go perfectly fine together.” “Oh dear!” Lauren laughed. “I’m grateful your sister stepped in then!” John came to her side and his very nearness made her stomach flutter. He towered over her, forcing her to look up. Did he know he made her feel petite and diminutive? His fingers caressed her cheek and she knew he did. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek on his hand. John knew there was an elephant in the room and he decided to tackle the topic head on. Before he could take her the way he wanted, there needed to be total trust between them. There were a few issues they needed to get out of the way. He leaned in as if to kiss her, but murmured instead, “So you’re getting over the fact that I had several tours in the Marines?” She stiffened and John waited. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at him and nodded. “I’m getting there.” John couldn’t be deterred. Leading her into the living room, he sat on the couch, waiting until she sat demurely beside him. “You were in the service too. And I saw you with the band. Why the reluctance with dating a military man?” She shook her head. “I’m… I was trying to put all that behind me. I’ve had enough of the military for a while.” “So naturally you sing in a bar with a band and bring your nephew to a Civil War reenactment. Because you’ve had enough of the military.” “Actually, the Civil War thing was an accident. Beth’s a good friend and we decided to take the kids and get away for the day. Ian wanted to go to the museum because it’s one of his favorite places. I didn’t know about the reenactment until we got there, but,” she paused to shrug, “Ian enjoyed it.” “I’m glad you were there.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “So is Chuck.” “Chuck? Oh, your friend with the broken leg.” “You make a good nurse.” “That’s behind me now.” Her voice went flat as if there would be no more discussion of this topic. All his careful peeling only brought him to a layer made of brick. He needed a change in tactics. Sledgehammers brought down walls but tended to break things in the process. He sensed she wanted to talk to him but habit kept the wall in place. Perhaps all Lauren needed was a little nudge?

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Lauren sat erect, unsure what John wanted from her. She’d come here to get laid after days of deliberation, and here he sat, bringing up his military service. Hadn’t he gotten it yet? She wasn’t ready to share her past with him. Or was she? Looking around the comfortable room, she felt again that warm, safe, protected feeling creep over her. John wouldn’t make fun of her—hadn’t he proved that already? Although her defenses rose again out of habit and fear, she felt torn between wanting to fling herself into the safety of his arms and wanting to take the easy way out and run. As if he could read the warring emotions, John simply watched her a moment then took her hand in his. “Tell me.” Lauren looked at him, seeing not pity but safety in his look. Her shoulders slumped. She liked him. A lot. She might even have fallen in love with him. He might be the one to run away once he realized how deep her memories scarred her. Yet she had to take the risk. Any man worth having would be a man who could accept her for all her faults. “I was an Army nurse—career Army. Ever since I was little and watched M*A*S*H on television with my parents, that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to be like Hot Lips Houlihan and run my own field hospital. My parents, however, did everything in their power to steer me in a different direction. They didn’t want a soldier’s life for their little girl. They wanted me to be like my sister and find a nice man to marry and settle down. At eighteen I wasn’t strong enough to go against them, so I went to college and got a degree in chemistry instead.” “That must’ve been difficult for you.” Lauren shook her head and smiled. “Not really. I was in with all the nursing students and, unbeknownst to my parents, I took all my ‘extra’ courses in the heavier nursing subjects. I graduated only a few courses away from getting my RN.” “At one point you said you went to two different colleges.” “Actually one college and one university. I graduated from Nazareth, magna cum laude, with no job. I didn’t tell my parents I didn’t have a job because I wasn’t looking for one, I told them there just wasn’t much call for chemists at the moment and that I’d like to go on and get my master’s in the meantime.” “They bought that?” Lauren shrugged. “Not really. I finally broke down and told them I really wanted to be a nurse and that I wasn’t that far from getting the degree I really wanted. They weren’t happy, mostly because they don’t see nursing as prestigious as being a chemist, but I finally got them to agree to allow me to live at home with minimal rent while I went through the University of Rochester’s program, graduating with a master of science…in nursing.” John’s thumb traced over the back of her hand as he held it, giving her a warm feeling of security. “So,” John prompted, “you got the degree. Did you enlist without their blessing?” 60

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A small shadow passed over her face as she shook her head. “No. I got my degree and was to start a new job at a doctor’s office not too far from home. Not exactly the excitement I’d hoped for, but it was a job and it made my parents happy. Then came the car crash…and suddenly they were gone and it didn’t matter anymore.” “I’m sorry.” His soft words spoke volumes of understanding. Lauren looked at him with dry eyes. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ve figured out we didn’t have the best relationship in the world. Annie was the good child, I was the difficult one. Spent a lot of time feeling guilty over that. Then I joined the Army, got sent to Iraq, and didn’t have time for guilt anymore.” “And yet that guilt is still there.” Lauren shook her head. “Not really. Sadness, though. I never knew my parents as an adult. I would like to have gotten to know them on a different level and that’s never going to happen. That makes me sad sometimes.” John nodded. “‘When I was a child I spake as a child…’” “Exactly. They would’ve hated me being away and in danger so much but now that I’m back and safe? I would love to sit and talk away the afternoon and discuss philosophy and religion and politics—all those subjects I shunned before.” It felt good to tell the story. Up until now, only Beth, Annie and one other knew how much trouble she had with her parents. In the US Army, personal issues were left where they belonged—at home. She’d been trained to do a job that left no room for ruminations of the past or what might have been. Talking to John was far better than talking with the military psychologists. Those people were overworked and underpaid for the problems they had to help soldiers cope with. John sat quietly listening and Lauren knew he understood even the things she didn’t say. She didn’t need to explain her love of the ideal concerning her service in Iraq. She didn’t need to tell him how much she felt she was helping both Iraqis and American. And British. And Polish. And…so many more. “So you joined the Army as a nurse but things have changed since the Korean conflict. No more MASH units.” Lauren’s smile was small, but it was a smile. “Nope. No more MASH. More emphasis on getting the wounded to stationary hospitals that treat a wider range of ailments. I remember one Iraqi kid who came in with an infected finger from a sliver he got sliding into a home base made of a wooden slat. We made a difference in his life because he got to see the helpful side of Americans, not the blowing-up side. Of course, there were also the soldiers and civilians blown up by IEDs. We treated them all.” She no longer saw John’s living room. Instead she saw the tables of wounded. You could never tell who would make it and who wouldn’t. Two men, side by side with similar wounds—one would go home and live a good life and the other would be dead before the end of the night.

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She shuddered and forced the memory away. “What about you? You said you were in the Marines?” John leaned against the cushions. “Like you, I wanted to be in the service ever since I was a kid. My dad had been Army, my grandfather Navy. I had to keep up the tradition of rebellion, so…I became a Marine.” Lauren smiled and also leaned back. John understood. She relaxed only when they weren’t talking about her. That was fine with him. There were some things she should probably know about him. And maybe, knowing his past, she’d realize she couldn’t outrun her own. “But I didn’t just want to be a grunt. Wanted to be an officer and command men in battle. So I went to the Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina.” Lauren gave a low whistle. “Must’ve been tough for a Yankee down there.” “You’ve no idea. But I wasn’t going to let any Southern boys think they could win the War Between the States by pushing around this Yankee boy. I knew I’d be in for a tough time and graduated well and with the respect of many of those ‘rebels’.” “So you were planning to be career Marine the way I planned to make a career out of patching up you guys.” He knew she tried to keep her tone light, but John heard the underlying accusation. “That pretty much sums it up. Of course, the goal in battle is not to get hurt and a good leader knows that. A great leader is the one whose men come home.” “And which were you?” The softness of her voice belied the hardness of the question. “I was only good at first,” he answered. With a sigh, he ticked off the names. “Mortimer, Jones, Wizard, Pitbull. Four men killed in the first offensive I led. Three of them were killed when they stepped on a mine. But the fourth, Pitbull, he was hit by a mortar round. Not a lot of damage to his legs, but a lot of bleeding. I knew first aid, but didn’t know enough. I couldn’t save him.” Lauren could hear the pain in his admission. She put a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.” He smiled wryly. He took her hand and the look he gave her remained steady. “I know. I came to terms with it by determining it would never happen again. I started hanging around the medics in my free time, getting them to teach me the tricks of their trade.” “Didn’t you have a medic with you in your unit in that first battle?” “Mortimer.” One of the first ones killed. She nodded. “So you learned to be the backup medic.”

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“It should be part of every officer’s training. I lobbied for that when I got stateside again but the wheels of the military turn slowly.” Lauren made a sound of understanding and he turned the conversation back to her. “So I have some experience with…coming home from that.” “I see that you do.” Some of the tension had gone from her shoulders but John knew one conversation wouldn’t be enough to erase the deep cuts her memories made in her soul. “Thank you, John. It actually does help. Your knowing what it’s like.” He still held her hand and now brought it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. Her voice remained soft. “We both had rough times and we both survived them. I’m almost glad your friend Chuck broke his leg just so we could meet and survive together for a while.” That got a chuckle and the seriousness of their talk was broken. John stood, pulling Lauren up and sweeping her into his arms. He leaned in as if to kiss her, instead whirling her around into a two-step to the quick tempo of the music. Laughing, she let him lead her through several steps before the music ended and the song switched to a slower beat. Except he didn’t let her go. Still dancing, he held her lightly, his hands guiding her around his living room. Lauren sighed and leaned against his shoulder, liking how they fit together. She’d told him the truth when she admitted that their talking about their pasts helped. The Army psychologists understood as well, but their offices tended to be cold, inhospitable places for her psyche. Here in the warmth of John’s living room, she felt as if he’d created an enclave of safety just for her. She sighed again, feeling the load on her shoulders lighten considerably. “I hope those sighs are of contentment…” She turned her face up to him, smiling from the heart for the first time all evening. “Very much so. Thank you. You make me feel…” “Feel?” he prompted when her voice trailed off. “Safe.” She snuggled in closer, knowing full well what that admission might cost her and deciding it would be worth the price. “Excellent. Now that I’ve lulled you into a false sense of security, I can proceed with my nefarious plans.” Chuckling, she pulled away. “And what nefarious plans are those?” “Why, to tie you up and make love to you all night long.” He dropped his voice. “Or did you forget?” Lauren’s heart jumped right into her throat. After a moment, she shook her head and managed to get the words out. “I didn’t forget. I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week long.” “I’d still like to, you know.” 63

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“I haven’t frightened you off with my tales of woe?” She tried to keep her voice light, only a slight waver giving away her nervousness. Lauren wanted this, she wanted him. Desperately. “Lauren,” John stopped dancing altogether, keeping her in his arms. She tried not to tremble, to show how close he stood to her vulnerability. A false step and the walls around her psyche would harden into concrete, keeping him out, and she didn’t want that. She wanted, needed, for him to like her in spite of all her problems, her stresses, her frailties. John bent his head toward hers and she barely breathed. His lips brushed against hers and she closed her eyes and leaned in. When he deepened it, she opened for him, gave herself over to him, her arms reaching up to encircle his neck and hold on. How many months had she held herself together? How long had she kept it all inside, insisting that she could handle everything herself? That she didn’t need anyone else in her life telling her what to do or how to do it? That she’d had enough of taking orders— and enough of giving them? The kiss ended and John looked at her. Lauren sighed and considered, wanted nothing more than to rest easy in this man’s arms. To let him deal with the problems of the world while she just went along for the ride. She smiled, nodded her permission and John scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. She squealed and laughed as he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, all ghosts of the past temporarily banished. He paused only long enough to flip a switch beside the bedroom door, turning on a small, bedside lamp, and she caught only a glimpse of the double bed and of a dark wood nightstand before he laid her down gently on the mattress, his hand coming up to hold her face as he kissed her again. Lauren felt the strength of his muscles under his shirt as he bent over her. Muscles that could crush her if he wanted. Suddenly she longed to feel those muscles, the smooth flesh rippling under her fingers. Living in the present made her feel far more alive than dealing with the past. His shoulders, his arms, she wanted to explore every inch of him. She moved under him, a small whimper of desire escaping from the back of her throat, telling him she wanted more. “You are a very sexy woman, do you know that?” he murmured in her ear, his breath barely moving her hair. “It’s you who make me feel sexy.” Lauren drew him down into another kiss, deciding Beth was right. She did need this. His hand slid under her skirt to cup her nearly naked rear end. She didn’t often wear thongs, yet for tonight the little scrap of fabric had been a good choice. Especially since the warmth of his hand created an answering warmth in all the places he touched. “I will explore every inch of you and give you pleasure many times over. I promise you that.” “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned.

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For answer, he kissed her again. Not gently, this time, but with a force calculated to show her just how much he intended to give her. His tongue pressed at her lips and she opened to him, feeling him invade her mouth as she knew he would invade other parts of her. Oh yeah. She wanted this more than anything else in the world right now. Her arms held him tightly, afraid if she let go she might lose herself as he plundered her mouth. Her heart pounded and her pussy opened as the true extent of what he could to do her became evident. And still she urged him on. When he broke the kiss, her head swam. Damn, but he was good. John had been sitting on the bed beside her. Now he stood, pulling off his shirt in one quick motion. Lauren had seen John’s naked torso before, a week ago at the encampment when he’d changed out of his bloody shirt. She hadn’t been meant to see him then, yet the image had stuck with her. Yet now, in the glimmer of the bedside lamp, up close and towering over her, the previous image paled in comparison to the magnificent reality before her. His smooth skin, just dusted with fine hairs, stretched beautifully over muscles honed in more than just the weight room. For a moment, she thought of how effortlessly he’d worked last Sunday, holding a man’s life in his hands as now he held her attention. Except John pulled a scarf off the back of the door beside him and all thoughts fled but one. He really meant it. He would tie her up and make love to her all night long. “Sit up and hold out your wrist.” Lauren smiled demurely at the command in his voice. She swung her legs to the side and did as he instructed, tugging her dress down where he’d pushed it up. Deftly John looped the teal-blue silk scarf over her wrist, tying it loosely enough so that it slid along her forearm, but with an opening too small to fit over the palm of her hand. With a flourish worthy of a prestidigitator, he pulled a second teal scarf from behind him and quickly tied it to her other wrist. Peeking over his shoulder, Lauren saw another set of scarves on the floor, all apparently pulled from the back of the door at the same time. She laughed to see through his trick. “Ah, the lady laughs now but soon she will groan in ecstasy!” He’d pulled her ankle to him, slipping off her sandal and tying the scarf in the same manner. Lauren lifted her arms and swayed the fabric before her, lifting a corner of one scarf and covering the lower half of her face with it. “The lady, cloaked in mystery. How will the sultan have his way with the lovely harem girl, and she still clothed?” John pulled the knot tight on the fourth and final scarf. Without a beat’s hesitation, he knelt up, his hands behind her back, her dress unzipped a second later. “Such mysteries are easily solved, harem girl.” His hands on her arms pulled her to standing as he stood as well. Another second later and her dress lay in a pool at her feet. “Kiss me,” he urged as he bent to take her in his arms. 65

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“Gladly,” Lauren whispered, her arms coming up around his neck as their lips touched. She felt him unclasp her bra and shifted to give him access to her breasts. He obliged, one hand sliding forward to cup her breast in warmth while the other steadied her as he lowered her to the bed.

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Chapter Eight The scarves floated gracefully, wafting a gentle perfume of jasmine as Lauren waved her hands above John’s back. The ends trailed along his skin, tickling and making him smile. He liked seeing the tease in her come out. Her eyes glimmered with mischief in the dim light and John thought of her as a gemstone of many facets. He’d seen her professional side on the field last week, been subject to her repartee as she fenced away his questions, watched in concern as she flashed back to her wartime experience and then held her hand as she let down her guard a little to confide in him. Now, as she sat on his bed wearing nothing but a thong, an unclasped bra and the scarves he’d tied around her ankles and wrists, she showed another facet. That of the playful minx. She would not give up her freedom easily. Instead she played with him, teasing him along with her harem-girl antics. He grinned, glad she was a worthy adversary. Lauren pulled one of the scarves along his shoulder, and with difficulty, John ignored it, turning the tables on her by running his finger over her breasts, just above the bra that still partially covered them. She smiled seductively, letting her hand fall to drape the see-through scarf over his hand, obscuring his vision of her breasts. Undeterred, he took the center of her bra in his fingers and pulled. Slowly, maddeningly slowly, he brought it down her belly, the straps sliding along her arms. When one became caught on her elbow, she wiggled it free while John continued to remove the garment. It came free of her hands and he took a moment to untangle it from the scarves. Lauren used that moment to again drape the silk over her breasts. Even though the room’s temperature reflected the summer heat, John could see the twin bumps under the silk that showed how much she enjoyed this play. His cock, already stirring, responded more strongly to the sight and John eased himself forward, wanting a better look and a more comfortable position. Lauren pulled the silk from her breasts. He couldn’t resist. Bending farther, his lips encircled her nipple in a tender kiss. She tasted sweet, like nectar sucked from a flower and he wanted more. Gently biting her nipple, he made sure all her attention centered on her breasts while he took her hand and raised it over her head, ostensibly to get better access. While she was thus occupied, he looped the silk over the bedpost knob and tied it securely. Only then did he once again stand. Her eyes, soft with seduction, watched as he unzipped his jeans and slid them to the floor. He’d worn no socks with his loafers, which he simply kicked off and left under the bed. Catching her gaze with his, he sat beside her, trailing the backs of his fingers over the beautiful mounds of her breasts. Only then did she move, or try to.

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When her right arm didn’t come as she commanded, she frowned and tugged harder. He chuckled. “Didn’t think those scarves were only for decoration, did you?” “Then you really mean to… That is…” Keeping his voice neutral, he answered, “I really do.” This was the crucial moment. He would never tie a woman against her will, but Lauren didn’t know him well enough to understand that yet. If he pushed too hard, she might have another panic attack. If he wasn’t strong enough, she wouldn’t feel safe. He stepped onto the tightrope. “You can tell me you don’t want this, Lauren. If you want to say, ‘thanks, it’s been fun, now untie me and let me go,’ I’ll do exactly that. I will still want to make love to you because you are a beautiful, sexy lady. You, however, have the right to refuse at any moment.” “So if I said to untie me right now, you’d do it?” “Yes.” “But if I said to leave it and make love to me?” John leaned down. “I will promise you a night like you’ve never experienced before.” He took her lips in a gentle kiss. “That’s a pretty big boast.” He nodded. “Yep. Want to call me on it?” A slow smile spread across her face. “I do. Leave the scarf alone and prove it, big man.” For answer, John hooked his fingers in her thong and eased it down and off. The sight of her mound, shaved bikini style, distracted him a moment and he paused to kiss the spot just above her clit. Her intake of breath made him smile and he slipped the panties off the rest of the way. In a fluid motion, he dropped them on his discarded clothes with one hand while, with the other, he pulled on the scarf tied to her right ankle. In seconds, she was fastened top and bottom on one side. He knelt beside the bed, lightly running his fingers up along the inside of her leg. She squirmed a little and giggled. “That tickles.” “And does it tickle if I touch you…here?” He petted the small patch on her mound. “Mmm, no, that doesn’t tickle at all.” “I’m willing to bet it makes you wet. Shall I see?” Without waiting for her assent, he plunged a finger down along her slit, the dampness evident immediately. She gasped and arched her back, her eyes wide with spiked arousal. “I’ve been wet for some time now,” she managed, her words sounding strangled and breathless as he rubbed his finger over her clit. “Oh you have, have you?” He brought his finger up to his mouth, making sure she was looking at him before he licked it clean. “Ah, good clean living, I see. You taste of honey—wonderful.”

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“That’s me, a honey bee.” She still teased with him, yet her eyes had a distinctly unfocused glaze. He smoothed the hair from her face, and, half lying beside her, pulled her into his arms as he kissed her again, giving her a taste of herself from his lips. “More along the lines of an intoxicating draught of beer, I was thinking,” he told her as his hand came up her belly to cup a breast. Taking the nipple in his mouth, he licked it to hardness, feeling his cock answer. But Lauren was a woman to be savored and he flicked his tongue over her nipple to judge the sounds she made. The contented sighs that she’d given him earlier now gave way to a low groan deep in the back of her throat. He was pretty sure he could make her squeal too. With a final, big lick, he stood up. She didn’t disappoint him. The sudden loss of his touch made her voice go up several octaves in protest. “Sorry,” he told her, completely unrepentant. “I’m not done tying you down yet.” The room tended to get stuffy in the summer, so John took a moment to raise the window on the opposite side of the room. Immediately a soft breeze came in, tossing the edges of the light curtains. For privacy’s sake, he closed the louvers, allowing the fresh air to enter, but not allowing the neighbors into his bedroom. A bit more distance than the width of a driveway, but not a whole lot more, separated the houses in this neighborhood. The whine of a window air conditioner from the house next door wafted in on the breeze and John shook his head. Nothing but a waste of electricity. Maybe it was all the hot nights in the desert that made him appreciate the feel of a cool breeze over his naked body as he slept, maybe it was his innate sense of responsibility to the environment, but he had never had the urge to encase himself in machine-made coolness while he slept. He turned back to Lauren where she lay on top of his bed, her naked body responding to the breeze, and decided those coverings under her needed to go. Moving to the bottom of the bed, he pulled the comforter and sheet from beneath her. While pulling them down first might have been easier, he wouldn’t have gotten to see the wonderful undulations she made as she raised first her back, then her hips and finally her legs. The moment John had set eyes on this particular bed in the furniture store, he had decided the wooden construction had been designed with bondage in mind. The smooth curl of the wood along the top of the head- and foot boards gave way to a series of posts about one inch by one inch in dimension, making the bed look like a jail cell on either end. He’d tied Lauren’s right side to the wider posts on the edge because that gave him a side he could stand close to without too much mattress getting in the way. But the scarves wouldn’t reach all the way to the other side of the double bed. That didn’t matter. Taking her free ankle firmly in his hand, he pulled the scarf through a bar not quite halfway over. That spread her legs quite nicely and gave him a good view of

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her pussy, but still left room for him to lie down beside her if he were so inclined. Standing back, he admired the curves of her body as she blushed under his gaze. “You are a beautiful woman, do you know that?” “Thank you for saying that, but I’m not more than fair.” She brushed a stray hair from her forehead with her still-free hand. John noted she managed to artfully drape the trailing scarf over her breasts in the process. Shaking his head, he spoke as if thinking aloud. “I never understood why beautiful women can’t see their own beauty.” He bent and gathered the scarf in his hand, taking time to caress her breast with the backs of his fingers. Still keeping his tone deliberately conversational, he pulled her wrist up and tied it to the corresponding post in the headboard so her leg and arm were symmetrical. “Beautiful women have something the majority of women do not.” “And what is that?” He could hear a trace of nervousness in her voice and didn’t blame her. What they were doing took a lot of trust on her part. One of the reasons he’d taken his time tying her had been to build that trust. Lying down beside her on the bed, he put his arm around her waist, propping himself up with his head on his hand, letting her get used to his dominance. “I think beautiful women, no matter what their current situation, have a spirit of adventure. They shine from within with a need to experience life and all it has to offer. Like you, they have an elegant charm.” He brushed a kiss on her temple. His words seduced her and Lauren wanted to believe him. Would he say such things to her when he’d already gotten what he wanted? She’d agreed to let him tie her up and now he worked to fulfill his promise to make love to her all night long. Heat radiated from his body, stretched beside her, his arm lying across her as a shield against the night. She listened to his words and let herself be carried away by them, even if she didn’t fully believe them. For tonight, his words banished rational thought and wove an existence where everything was perfect. With a contented sigh, she smiled, enjoying the dream. “The lack of movement can be a powerful aphrodisiac,” he murmured and Lauren nodded agreement. She tried to tug her arms down—the inability to do so sent a shiver straight to her pussy. John moved his hand up along her belly to her breasts again, cupping the one farthest from him and bouncing it slightly in his palm. When he bent and drew the nearer nipple into his mouth she shuddered as he played her body, mind and emotions. When he bit the nipple, an involuntary cry forced itself from her throat. He didn’t let go. If anything, he increased the pressure and Lauren gasped, her body instinctively moving away. The ties, however, prevented her from going very far and a spasm of pleasure coursed through her pussy. She moaned as she approached the brink of orgasm.

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Except John chose that precise moment to let go. He popped his head up, grinning. “You like that?” “Didn’t think I would,” she answered, trying to focus on his grin. “But yeah, I did…do.” “Then maybe you’ll like this as well.” The hand that cupped her breast suddenly squeezed, compressing her breast in his powerful hand. She arched her back as another spasm coursed through her. John chuckled. “Told you being tied and helpless was arousing.” “Don’t stop now. This is wonderful.” He put his lips near hers. “I don’t intend to stop until you’ve come so many times you’ve lost count.” Their lips touched and Lauren felt his full power unleashed. He ravaged her mouth, bruising her lips. She opened to him, wanting to take that force into herself, wanting to be fed by it, consumed by it, remade by it. His hand slid along her side and under to possess her ass and she would’ve brought her knees up to invite a deeper touch but they were held fast. The heat in her pussy threatened to explode. Her pussy was open, ready to take him. She wanted him, she wanted the orgasm and she moaned her need into his mouth. He released her as he shifted his weight, bringing his hand forward and plunging his finger along her slit once more. The small pressure on her clit was all she needed. Her muscles tensed in the thrall of agony. Would this glorious torture never end? A strangled cry burst from her throat. John pressed ever so slightly harder against her clit and her body exploded in spasms of unadulterated ecstasy. She bucked in her bindings but his finger remained pressed against her, continuing her orgasm, not letting her down. Lauren knew she cried out and didn’t care how much noise she made. Her body ached for more even as it cried for him to make it stop. Over and over she crested and came until her tired muscles went limp in exhaustion. John pulled his fingers from between her legs and covered her with his body as she came down. Her muscles twitched for several seconds more as she gasped for air. When she could focus her gaze, she saw him leaning over her, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “How’d I do?” She didn’t want to give him the compliment he fished for yet she couldn’t deny that had to have been the most powerful set of orgasms she’d ever had. And what had he done? Simply tied her up, filled her mind with thoughts of beauty and been a little rough with his kisses and hands. She’d had rough before and enjoyed it, but add in the silk ties and his incredible touch and sex became magnificent. “If you think you can handle it, there are a few other toys we can bring into play.”

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“After that? You think you’re going to get more out of me? I’ve already had two orgasms tonight and both were wonderful. If you get a third I’d be surprised.” Even as Lauren said the words she wanted him to prove her false. “That sounds like a challenge.” He rolled over the top of her and stood. His weight forced a woof out of her and she grinned at his dismount. “Take it anyway you want to.” Her heart slowed to normal, but she felt her stomach give a little flip as she thought he just might give her more. The bedroom door stood in the center of one wall. John pushed the door halfway shut and knelt in front of a curved-top trunk that sat in the corner. While he sorted through the contents, none of which she could see, Lauren had time to look around the room. The fact that she hadn’t earlier suddenly registered on her and she tried to sit up in surprise. The scarves brought her up short though. John looked over his shoulder. “Everything all right over there?” “Yeah, very all right.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she explained. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but checking out my surroundings has become an ingrained habit.” “I’ve noticed.” She heard the dry tone and looked up at the ceiling, her own tone matching his. “Okay, so I’m not as good at hiding my idiosyncrasies as I’d hoped. Sue me.” Lauren took in the room in a long sweep. “Every place I go, I find all the exits, I look for places where people could hide or go to if in trouble. I look for bombs.” John didn’t move and Lauren continued, her joy at her discovery bubbling out of her. “But when we came here, upstairs, I didn’t do any of that. I did when we came in the house. The placement of the couch, the exit to the dining room and to the kitchen’s back door. I had it all down pat within the first minute of entering.” “And what changed when you came upstairs?” She actually giggled. “It’s wonderful. I was so taken with you and what you might do to me that I didn’t notice. I couldn’t tell you the layout of rooms up here if my life depended on it. Wait! That’s it!” She struggled to sit up and contented herself with rolling onto her side so she could see him. “My life depended on it. That’s the key right there. The IEDs, the snipers, the suicide bombers, they all taught me to be constantly aware of my surroundings because, literally, my life depended on it. That awareness grew to a habit I didn’t break when I got home. I do it all the time. I lead my life as if it could end at any moment and never relax my guard.” “But you did tonight.” “With you. Isn’t that wonderful?” John came to kneel beside the bed, taking Lauren’s face in his hands. He kissed her gently then said, “You feel safe here with me.” She nodded, her eyes growing more serious. “I do. It’s a feeling I’m not used to.” 72

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“Get used to it. I intend to keep you safe a lot more often.” Until he’d said the words, John hadn’t realized how deeply Lauren had affected him. But the truth of the words couldn’t be denied. He liked Lauren. No, liked was too soft a word. You liked baseball, you liked your car. What he felt for Lauren was far more than that. She’d become important to him. He kissed her again, enjoying the way she yielded to him. Because of the ties, he couldn’t quite hold her as close as he’d like, but that was okay. There’d be time enough for that later. “Stay put,” he told her, liking the way her face lit up when she smiled at him. Going back to the trunk, he lifted up the soft flogger he’d decided on and hefted it in his hand. Would she let him? Only one way to find out. Her eyes widened when he brought it into the light. Made of long deerskin thongs, the flogger’s many ends could provide a soft massage or a hard thwack. The artistry came in knowing when to deliver which kind of landing. Turning the skin pink required only a light blow delivered repeatedly or a series of hard blows delivered quickly. Which would bring her to orgasm again? John knew that finding out was the best part. “If you give your permission, I’d like to give you a massage.” “With that?” “A flogging can be very relaxing. If that’s the desired status, that is.” “Why not just give a massage then? With your hands?” “Good question. Let’s just say the flogger is more versatile and provokes more…sexual stimuli.” He saw her wavering and brought the flogger closer, trailing the ends over the skin of her side. Lauren giggled. “Okay, that tickles.” For answer, John gently pushed her over so she lay face up again. “Not the sensation I was going for. Try this one.” He gently flicked the ends so they brushed softly against her breasts then trailed them down along her belly. “Like that?” He knew his touch was too light to arouse her much, but apparently Lauren liked it just fine, judging by the little gasp she gave when he landed the ends again across her breasts. This time one of the ends landed across her nipple and the air that whooshed out of her hinted at her enjoyment. “Because this is new to you, it really is best to feel it on your ass first.” “All of a sudden I feel like I’ve never had sex before.” John saw the white cream at her pussy and knew what she meant. The first time he’d had a flogger used on him, he’d had one hell of an orgasm. Then he’d been taught how to use the nefarious little tool and he never looked back. He let the thongs fall lightly across her breasts and listened to her breath quicken. She didn’t need a full flogging to get an orgasm. The scarves and the mere suggestion of 73

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what he could do with this were enough to get her agitated and aroused. Starting a slow rhythm, he continued to slap the thongs against her breasts, understanding the small stings were plenty for this first time. Lauren’s eyes closed and John let the thongs fall a little harder. No marks yet showed on her skin, he’d kept the touch so light. But as her arousal grew, so did the force he used, each hit taking her a step closer to the peak. Small pink spots now showed on her breasts as they warmed beneath the soft leather. She arched her back, her head moving from side to side as the moans grew faster and deeper. He speeded up—the quickened tempo landing on the sides of her breasts. No pauses now, just unrelenting stings. Could she come without any touch to her pussy? Few women could. But those who did, he knew, experienced a far deeper orgasm. Lauren’s voice urged him on. “Please…so close…” Once more he increased the speed and strength, his blows to her breasts designed to push her over the edge. Above her head, her hands fisted the pillow and with a whimper, her body tensed, hovering…poised…waiting. He took her over with a hard blow to her nipples and listened to the cry of pleasured agony as her body convulsed. Immediately he lessened the strength of the descending flogger to soft caresses. He watched as she rode the waves of pleasure, her pussy spurting forth its marvelous juices. Oh, this one was precious in so many ways. He’d asked her out because he’d found her witty and fun. He’d brought her home because he’d found her wounded and he wanted to help. He’d brought her up here to help her forget for a while. But now he found a new emotion starting to well up inside him—one of lust and desire. He’d taken his shirt and pants off but kept his boxer briefs on since this part of the evening was more for her benefit. Now he dropped them quickly, giving Lauren her first look. Coming down from another incredible orgasm, Lauren opened her eyes to the light and blinked, having forgotten for a moment where she was. That flogging had been wonderful! She’d let him do that again anytime. Movement to her right caught her eye. She’d enjoyed looking at his chest and the controlled strength of his muscles and had just enough time to think, “What a gorgeous ass,” before he turned around and her attention was riveted by his cock. John was not a small man, in any part of his body. Manners said it wasn’t polite to stare but right now, manners could go to hell. John’s cock, thick as her wrist and hard as her head, stood proudly, swathed in the beautifully deep colors of his erection. Suddenly she realized her legs were spread open, very open. Instinctively she tried to move them. All she could do was bend her knees a little, which, of course, opened her pussy wider and more invitingly. She grinned. 74

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John knelt between her legs, one hand absently massaging his cock. Again without thinking, Lauren attempted to bring her hands down to touch him. Again the ties prevented her and a whimper of frustration escaped. “You certainly do seem to like being tied and ravished,” John commented as he saw her body reacting to him. “Ravish away. I’m liking this more than I could’ve imagined.” For answer, he leaned forward, putting a hand on either side of her shoulders. Lauren’s breath caught as she understood the power he wielded. The muscles of his shoulders tensed where he held himself above her, his face mere inches from her own. Her lips parted as her heart pounded. He teased her to readiness again simply by existing. “I will enter you slowly. I will torment you and make love to you like you deserve to be loved. You are beautiful, Lauren. I want you.” His words made her stomach flip. She could barely breathe and her voice was barely audible. “Yes, please. John…” His lips were on hers, tasting, exploring, possessing. Because of her bindings she had no way to show him how much she wanted except in their kiss. She yielded, letting his tongue explore and exploring on her own as well. Everything she wanted she put into that kiss, her desire for his cock, her thankfulness at his caring and tenderness, her passion and her need. He lowered himself and she raised her hips to help his entrance, wanting to join with him. He said he’d take her slowly and Lauren learned he was a man of his word. She felt his cock at her pussy, rubbing along her slit and making her moan. She wanted to grab his shoulders and urge him along, but the ties forced her to a passive role. She could only accept what he gave. Gently he pushed inside, going in only a little before pulling out. Lauren cried out her need as the tensions in her pussy gathered again. How could she even think of coming again? And yet his masterful command had her wanting to rut like a feral animal. Again he entered and Lauren’s eyes closed, giving herself up to the fires that coursed through her. “Open your eyes, Lauren. I want to see your soul.” She looked into his eyes and felt more than naked. The blueness of his eyes had darkened with his desire. He would consume her, she realized, just as she understood she would gladly let him. His cock pumped in and out, each time going deeper. Her whimpers kept time with the increasing tempo of his thrusts. “You are mine, Lauren.” His voice had gone husky and Lauren saw his control slipping. Hers had flown away hours ago. But then he thrust hard and deep and she rode with him, her eyes closing despite her attempts to keep them open as she climaxed hard. His cock slammed against the wall of her womb and she cried out. Above her, he groaned as he came and Lauren went over the edge with him. Their bodies rocked together in their timeless dance. 75

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And when he slowed, Lauren opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face to see him so relaxed. He heaved a huge sigh, and brought his eyes to focus. His smile, contented and tired, made her feel even more satisfied. She’d given him pleasure despite the bindings. Or maybe because of them. Lauren didn’t know and didn’t care. John lowered himself to lay his head beside hers and she took the opportunity to clench her pussy muscles around his softened cock. He shuddered and kissed her neck. She waited a moment and did it again. His breath caught and she grinned. “Damn, what you do to me.” He kissed her again, a gentle kiss filled with tenderness. His arms wrapped around her as his cock slipped free and Lauren found herself regretting their uncoupling. She could stay joined with this man for a very long time.

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Chapter Nine Noon the next day found Lauren sitting at a table in a chain restaurant with an old friend, needing to confide in someone. Beth was her best friend, but would she understand? Beth had always been forthcoming about her sexual proclivities, and they weren’t what Lauren had last night. So she’d called up the other third of their triumvirate, Sarah Townshend. In high school, she, Beth and Sarah had been alternately called the Three Stooges and the three witches from Macbeth. All three had long brown hair then that they’d play with and set into the same style, pretending they were triplets. They’d been inseparable, until time and geography sent them in different directions. But Lauren was back, and so was Sarah. Funny how they all had returned to their roots after so many years. And now, after last night, Lauren had to talk—and Sarah seemed the only one she could trust to give her the straight answers she needed with no teasing. “I have something to ask you…but it’s kinda on the rude side.” Lauren’s voice trailed off. Sarah shook her head as she speared a forkful of lettuce from her salad. “We’ve been friends far too long for you to worry about offending me.” “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a long time and I was afraid that—” “Fear not. There’s nothing you can ask me that I would consider rude.” Lauren tried to explain anyway. “It’s just that it’s been so long since we’ve really talked. We graduated and hung out that whole summer. Then you married Tom and the two of you moved around so much I never saw much of you. September eleven happened and I joined the Army as a nurse and lived outside Washington while working for Walter Reed. Then I did a stint overseas.” “Being together over the years isn’t what makes a friendship, Lauren. Friendship is being able to pick up again as if no time has passed.” Lauren smiled, remembering how much she loved her best friends. “I’m so glad you met Phillip. After Tom died, the few times we did meet up, you seemed so…broken. But now…” She toasted her friend with her glass. “But now?” “You’re happy again. Phillip’s been really good for you.” Lauren put her glass down, serious once more. “In fact, it’s him I want to talk to you about.” She saw her friend tense and Lauren quailed. Sarah was the only one who might understand, who might be able to explain what happened last night. She saw Sarah’s chin come up, almost defying her to ask the question. “Go ahead and ask. You’re the only one who hasn’t.” 77

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“What?” Lauren sat back, suddenly confused. “About the trial and about our private sex lives.” Lauren shook her head. “No…that’s not it. Well, it is, but— I want to talk to you because of your,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “private sex life.” Now it was Sarah’s turn to look puzzled. “Maybe you’d better just ask your question.” “You know I had a date with John?” Sarah nodded and leaned forward to hear her better. “I need to know…that is, we…I mean, he… Oh for crying out loud. Why is this so hard?” Sarah smiled encouragingly. “I’ll tell you why it’s hard after you tell me what it is.” Lauren looked left and right to be sure no one was near. The other diners were engaged in their own conversations and paid them no attention. Satisfied, she leaned forward again and blurted it out. “John tied me up last night and made love to me. And I enjoyed it!” Sarah chuckled and Lauren hushed her. “I’m serious. This is wrong on so many levels.” “Whose levels? Society’s? The church’s? The government’s? None of them belong in the bedroom with you and John. Not even me, although I’m going to stay there for a little while, since you invited me in.” “Yes, I did. Beth sent me the clippings of what happened between you and Phillip or I wouldn’t have had the courage to even bring it up. But I thought if anyone could explain it to me…” Sarah’s smile could’ve lit up the restaurant. “If some good has come out of that terrible time, then it was worth it. Let me tell you you’re not crazy, you’re not weird or terrible or any other awful thing you’ve been calling yourself. What you are, is normal.” “Really?” Lauren hated the vulnerability in her voice but her responses to John’s lovemaking threw her completely. Sarah’s reassurance went a long way toward righting her world once again. Especially when Sarah pointed to the leather thong she wore tied around her neck. “This is my collar. Phillip ties it on me every morning as a sign of his dominance over me and I wear it as a symbol of my obedience to him. He is my Master and I am his slave. Believe me. Being tied down and made love to is so normal it’s almost mundane.” “Mundane? Not a word I would use to describe last night.” Sarah grinned again. “Sounds like a good beginning.” Lauren pushed her unfinished salad away as the waitress brought over their entrees. Suddenly she wondered why she had ordered the grilled salmon when her thoughts had her stomach roiling.

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“It’s a good beginning only if I can get over this feeling of guilt,” she told Sarah after the waitress had left. “It took me awhile too.” Sarah attacked her fettuccini alfredo with gusto, explaining her feelings to Lauren as she swirled the pasta onto her fork. “Society has conditioned you to think of some activities as being kinky. And that kink is wrong. It isn’t.” Lauren watched Sarah eat, remembering how they used to tease her because she could eat anything and not gain a pound. Apparently Sarah still could eat anything she wanted. Not so for Lauren. The diet and exercise required in order to stay fit and trim for active duty remained a part of her daily regimen. She picked up her fork and played with the salmon as she considered Sarah’s opinion. “So you’re saying that kink is okay?” “I’m saying that what goes on between a man and a woman in the bedroom is no one’s business.” A sudden thought came to Sarah. “Tell me again what John’s last name is?” “McAllen. John McAllen.” Sarah chuckled. “I just put it together. Of course!” Lauren frowned at her friend. “Put what together? Sarah, this is serious.” Sarah shook her head. “Of course it’s serious.” She waggled her eyebrows. “More serious than you think.” She chuckled again. “Okay, spill it. What do you know that I don’t?” Sarah smiled. “Nope. I think this might be one of those things you should learn from John.” “Sarah…” Lauren flashed her a warning look. Sarah put her fork down as well and took Lauren’s hand. “Look, Lauren. A little rope in the bedroom is no big deal. Obviously you felt something for him or you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” “I did. I do. He…” She stopped and sat back, her breath coming out in a huge sigh. “I had a flashback on our first date. Dropped to the ground and everything.” “What did John do?” “Held me.” Lauren felt the tears burning in her eyes and fought them. When she was sure of her voice again, she continued. “He was understanding and loving…and patient, and kind. Everything I needed him to be.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand. “And then he was commanding and assured and then last night…he made love to me like…like I’ve never been made love to before.” “And you fell in love with him between one breath and the next.” Lauren nodded and a tear escaped to slide silently down her cheek. Sarah squeezed her hand in return. “Oh honey. That’s a beautiful thing. You’re going to be just fine.”

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“Of course she is. Did I miss dessert?” Lauren wiped her eyes as Beth pulled out a chair and sat beside them. She didn’t miss the look that passed between Sarah and Beth, however. But ever the one to keep others’ secrets, Sarah didn’t say a word of what Lauren had just told her. Instead she dropped Lauren’s hand and turned brightly to the third member of their triad. “Of course not. We’ve just finished.” Sarah looked at Lauren’s barely touched salmon. “Well, one of us is, anyway.” “I’m eating, I’m eating.” Lauren assumed a false gaiety and put a forkful of fish into her mouth as proof. “Yeah, I’m buying that.” Beth’s droll tone implied the opposite. Lauren sighed. She couldn’t keep anything from either of these two. They knew her that well. With her fork, she gestured from Sarah to Beth. “Tell her,” she mumbled after a quick swallow. Putting her head down so she wouldn’t have to see the look of shock on Beth’s face, she shoveled in another mouthful so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. Sarah turned to Beth, a wry smile on her face. “In short, John tied Lauren up last night and made love to her. And she liked it.” “Well, it’s about time!” Lauren looked up, confused. “What’s about time?” She managed around the mouthful of fish. Beth gestured to herself and Sarah. “We’ve known for quite a while you were submissive, just like Sarah. It was only a matter of time before you figured it out.” “I don’t get it. How did you know? I’m an officer in the US Army for crying out loud. I give orders.” She paused. “Correction. I gave orders. I’m not an officer anymore.” “Yes you are.” Beth’s tone dismissed Lauren’s self-pity. “You finished your last stint and simply didn’t re-up. But you don’t lose your rank. Like it or not, ‘Major’ is still a part of who you are.” “You’re proving my point, Beth-a-rooni.” Sarah laughed. “Now there’s the Lauren we all know and love. You get her, Lauren-bauren!” “Sorry, Sarah-silly, she’s whupped.” Beth’s grin turned sly. “But then, you finally discovered you like a good whipping, didn’t you?” Lauren’s cheeks burned and she glanced at the nearby tables. No one returned her glance or gave any indication that Beth’s rhetorical question had been overheard. Still she made a motion to silence her friend. Beth only chuckled and signaled the waitress. “I’d like the Decadent Chocolate Fudge Brownie. And three forks.” Lauren rolled her eyes but Sarah nodded. “A celebration. Definitely. Lauren’s coming into her own and that definitely calls for chocolate. Lots of chocolate,” she added, an evil glint in her eyes. 80

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“So,” Lauren fixed her gaze on Beth, “are you also telling me you’re submissive? From what you told me of you and Paul, I didn’t think—” “Heavens, no!” Beth reeled back in mock horror. Then she gave an equally evil grin and waggled her eyebrows as she dropped the other shoe. “Paul’s the submissive in our marriage.” Lauren sat back, as stunned as Beth expected her to be after dropping that particular bombshell. It made sense when she thought it through. Beth always took charge of the three of them whenever they planned any activity. She and Sarah went along for the ride, adding their own bits as they went. But Beth was the ringleader and always had been. But Paul a submissive? That was harder to understand. She knew Beth took the lead, but…a submissive? How could any man keep his self-respect and submit to a woman? Didn’t that make him hen-pecked? “Okay. For some reason I feel like I’m back in first grade. Start at the beginning and take me through this one small step at a time.” But both women shook their heads in unison. “Nope,” Beth said at the same time Sarah told her, “No way.” The two laughed and Beth motioned to Sarah to go first. “Everyone comes to understand their sexuality on their own path and with their own teacher. Phillip taught me, John will teach you.” Beth nodded her agreement and dropped the teasing tone from her voice. “I knew I loved Paul, but something just wasn’t quite right between us. We both knew it and neither of us could figure it out. Then Sarah and Phillip got married and I met Lady Aleshia at the wedding.” She smiled and Lauren thought she’d never seen her so happy. Beth continued. “Paul met Aleshia’s slave, Anton, and the two of them hit it off right away. We learned from them to identify what was missing. Once we started on our journey together, we tied the knot and, well, here we are!” Briefly Lauren wondered how they managed to make love with the baby around then decided that would be too much information to process. Her two best friends in the world not only didn’t commiserate in her agony, they welcomed and celebrated it. She pushed her lunch out of the way entirely as the waitress delivered a monstrous piece of chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream and layered with hot fudge sauce on top. Three cherries sat on top of a mound of whipped cream and Lauren laughed for the first time all day. “Okay. I give in. Take away this grilled and good-for-me salmon and give me my fork!” “Ah, ah, ah, cherries first,” Beth commanded, lifting one of the red fruits in a toast. Sarah followed suit and Lauren picked up the remaining cherry. “To Lauren, who has just lost her BDSM cherry!” “To Lauren!”

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Blushing and ducking her head, Lauren added, “To me!” They clinked the fruits together then popped them into their mouths. Both Lauren and Beth pulled the stem off and dropped it onto the plate, but Sarah’s mouth worked a moment, then she opened it to show a perfectly formed knot in the stem. “Show-off.” Lauren loved these women—their foibles, their helpful empathy, their friendship. Lifting her forkful of chocolate brownie, she toasted them. “To friends.” “To friends!”

***** John strolled through the lot of a used-car dealer, listening to Will find fault with every truck they examined. “I’ll know it when I see it,” he kept saying, stubbornly refusing several perfectly good trucks. “There must be a really good reason you don’t want to give up that truck.” John shook his head as they headed back to the rust bucket. “He’s never told you the story?” John turned at the voice behind him and grinned. “Phillip, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re looking for a new winter rat?” Phillip drove a beautiful sports car in the summer and stored it for the winter so the salt on the roads wouldn’t destroy the paint—or the frame. Phillip shook his head as he took John’s proffered hand. “Nope. Was driving by and couldn’t believe I saw that deathtrap sitting there. Gave me hope Will had come to his senses and was doing some serious shopping.” “Yeah, well, John-boy here keeps pestering.” “You have a hole in the floor.” “Details, details.” Will waved his hand dismissively. “It still runs good.” With an air of long-suffering, Will climbed into his truck. “I’ll look at one more dealership and if I don’t find anything there I like, you have to agree to stop nagging me to get a new truck.” John leaned on the open window of the passenger door. “Could be a deal if I knew the story behind why this one is so special to you.” Phillip came up to lean with him. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” Surrendering, Will blurted it out. “I like to take Jill for a ride in the bed of this truck, all right?” John turned to glance back at the truck bed. The metal showed through the paint where scratches and dents gave evidence of some hard hauling. A large black, plastic toolbox stretched the width just under the window to the cab and John noted the rings

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evenly placed along the side rails used to tie down a tarp to keep the bed dry. Nothing unusual for a truck bed. He shrugged, clearly not getting Will’s meaning. “Naked,” Will muttered. Narrowing his eyes, John leaned over and flicked up the catch on the toolbox. The inside had been divided into two compartments. One side held the normal tools one might expect from a handyman—a circular saw, a sander, a drill case and a smaller toolbox that John was sure would be filled with hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches and other small hand tools. But the side farthest from him and closest to the driver held more interesting items. Several coils of strong, scratchy rope, a roll of duct tape, a bag of cable ties and one leather hood—the kind that laced up the back. The kind with a built-in gag and no eyeholes. Suppressing a grin, John let the top slam shut. “Seems to me a man of your…interests…might want a more dependable truck,” John told his friend, his voice dry and droll. “Seems to me a man’s wife might want a truck more dependable. Wouldn’t want to see the bed fall off the truck while she was back there.” Phillip’s tone matched John’s as they drove their point home. Will leaned back and whined, “But we’ve had such good times there.” The two men laughed and Phillip gave John’s arm a playful hit. “I’ll meet you at Bonner’s. Forget used. He needs something brand-new and sturdy.” “Deal.” “Then lunch on me if he buys a new truck.” John grinned at Phillip. “Bribery?” Phillip shrugged. “Something’s gotta work.” With Will shaking his head in defeat, John climbed in beside his friend as Phillip went back to his sports car. “Think of it this way, buddy. Jill will want to try out the new truck and put it through its paces as soon as possible.” At that thought, Will cheered up. “She would, at that. We could…” His eyes twinkled with mischief. As Will plotted out scenes with a new truck and his wife, John thought of Lauren. Would she ever consent to such a public display? He doubted it. But then again, he doubted he’d have the balls to drive around with a naked, hooded woman tied in the back of his truck either. Too many things could go wrong and while living on the edge obviously appealed to some—he glanced at Will’s beaming face—he preferred his sex to be just a little less dangerous. No, he would tie Lauren again, if he hadn’t frightened her off, and judging by last night’s reaction, he felt pretty sure he hadn’t. But for the foreseeable future they’d keep their kink in the bedroom or at least inside the house.

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Chapter Ten Lauren positively buzzed with excitement. Not only had Beth and Sarah convinced her that bondage was “normal” they had talked her into stopping at a lingerie shop to purchase a little something on the kinky side. She glanced at the plain white bag as she drove home, her cheeks turning pink at what she hoped would be John’s reaction. Her machine’s light blinked “1” when she got home so she hit the button as she went through her mail, sending most of it right into the small recycling box she kept under the table beside the door. John’s sexy voice came through the speaker and Lauren paused, a half smile on her face as she listened to his recording. “Lauren, I wanted you to know I enjoyed last night. I hope you did too. If you’re willing, I thought perhaps we could get together tomorrow afternoon and I could show you a few more of my,” there was a pause and Lauren felt a thrill all the way to her pussy, “toys,” he finished and the machine clicked off. “Oh I bet you have some nice toys,” she purred. “And when you see what I bought today…” But why had he called her home number? Why not her cell phone? She’d given him both numbers just in case. Pulling the small phone from her jeans pocket, she shook her head. “Someday they’re going to invent one of you little guys that doesn’t need its batteries recharged all the time.” With a sigh she plugged the phone into its charger and picked up her land line to return his call. Ten minutes later she had a date for the following afternoon with Big John at his house. Hanging up the phone, she smiled as she considered the possibilities. Kinky sex with John would never be dull, that was for certain. He’d told her to look up on the Web and see what she could find about TPE—Total Power Exchange. Something told her she wouldn’t find sites on a new form of electrical energy. Intrigued, she headed for her computer. By the time she clicked it off, the room had grown dark and she’d missed dinner entirely. Oh yes. Sex with John would never be dull.

***** John surveyed his bedroom the next morning, shaking his head and sighing. Lauren would be here in a few hours and he wanted everything set before she came. A good scene built, each event moving the tension forward increments at a time until achieving the climax. If he built it right, there would be chapters within the scene where small climaxes kept her coming back for more.

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Of course, he’d started the scene with the phone call. The message teased, hooked her in. With their conversation later he’d given her more of a hint, like reading the first few pages of a book to see if you wanted to continue. “Last night I bound you with scarves,” he’d told her. “Tomorrow I will take movement from you entirely.” He’d heard her sudden intake of breath over the phone and knew he’d gotten her. The exposition was done. Now to introduce the conflict. Opening the chest behind the door, he surveyed its contents. He had bondage gear of all types. Under Will and Phillip’s tutelage, he’d acquired skills that he’d honed through several liaisons when home on leave. None of those relationships had lasted longer than the leave, however. John didn’t mind. Going off to war was hard enough without leaving someone behind. Lauren, however, was not a woman to be so easily set aside. John paused in the act of picking up a particularly heavy flogger as he considered that thought. Lauren wouldn’t be a quick and simple relationship with both of them going in their own directions after the buzz of newness wore off. He’d only known her a week so saying he’d fallen in love might be a bit premature, but he suddenly realized that he was not ruling it out. He picked up the flogger and ran the thongs through his opposite hand. “How far do I want to push her? How far do I want to push me?” He spoke to the flogger, deep in thought. After a moment, he swished the thongs through the air, listening to the deep woof as the air protested his assault on it. “She knows a flogging can massage and arouse. First lesson learned.” Turning, he swung the flogger downward at the footboard of the bed. The leather ends cracked in the silence. Standing straight once more, John held the flogger to his face, inhaling the musky leather scent. “Lesson two—submission has rewards.”

***** She’d dressed carefully that noon. Freshly showered, lotioned and shaved, the red lace bra and matching thong went on first. He damn well better appreciate these. For such a small amount of material they had sure cost enough. But she liked the way the bra gave her real cleavage and, when she slid another long, peasant-type skirt over her hips, she liked the way the material caressed her bare ass. A simple short-sleeve blouse finished it off. Checking herself in the mirror, Lauren grinned and unbuttoned the top button, flaring out the collar to show a little of that cleavage she’d paid so much for. With a waggle of eyebrows at the sight, she headed out the door. Lauren pulled into his driveway, seeing the house in the daylight for the first time. The houses to either side were typical one-family homes built just after World War II. Small porches, lots of windows, big gables. By contrast, John’s small bungalow seemed tiny. How could such a large man live in such a tiny space?

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She realized she was dawdling. Putting off the moment where she walked along the flagstone path and rang the doorbell. He hadn’t peeked out to see who had pulled into his driveway. At least, she didn’t think he had. She could still drive away. “Stop being foolish. He’s not going to hurt you.” Scolding herself, she turned off the engine and quickly opened the door before she chickened out. Trust took time to build, she’d said on their first date—or had it been him who said it? Didn’t matter. Each step she took along the path meant a step of trust in John’s good nature and dependability. Her hand reached for the bell even as the door opened. John stood there, looking totally at ease and not the least bit nervous while her stomach did a little flip. It wasn’t fair. He wore black pants and a crisp white shirt this afternoon, the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone. With that wonderful goatee encircling lips she knew would taunt her, he looked every inch the modern romantic pirate. “Welcome to my lair,” he teased and bowed her inside as Lauren had a momentary vision of herself bound and naked over a cannon. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered. Ignoring them, she stepped over the threshold with a coquettish smile and a flirt. “You look very dashing today.” “It’s on purpose, you know.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Is everything you do on purpose?” He shrugged and led her along the corridor into the kitchen. “Pretty much.” “Don’t you ever do things without thinking them through?” John chuckled. “Sometimes.” A café-style, rectangular wooden table served as his kitchen table, one end butted against the wall with two tall chairs on either side of the long sides. John pulled a chair out for her on the near side toward the wall. “Just not today.” Confused, Lauren sat. She knew exactly why he’d invited her over today. Hell, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else since talking with him so briefly yesterday. How could he, with so few words, get so many wonderful fantasies swirling through her imagination? Would he tie her with rope this time? Chains? Leather? Between her thoughts and the internet surfing she’d done, she was primed for anything. “Coffee?” he offered. “No thanks, I’m good.” “I have soda, if you’d prefer something cold.” Lauren shook her head, suddenly unsure of herself. Maybe he hadn’t invited her over here for incredible sex. When he pulled out the chair beside her and sat to face her, though, her stomach gave another of those annoyingly arousing flips to have him so near. “Did you read up on TPE?”

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She gave him a crooked grin. “I did. Total Power Exchange. One person voluntarily gives up all decision-making power to the other. In exchange, that person gets time without responsibilities. The person in power gets the thrill of being in control of someone.” “In a nutshell, that pretty well sums it up.” “I did my homework.” She heard the pride in her own voice and wondered if giving up power meant also giving up pride. “You’ve gotten to know a lot about me over the past few weeks—” “Week,” Lauren interrupted. “I know it seems longer, but we only met a week ago last Saturday. Today’s Monday. It won’t officially be ‘weeks’ until this Saturday.” John sat back. “Am I moving too fast for you?” Lauren shook her head quickly. “No, I didn’t mean that. I—” She stopped, not entirely sure what she meant. John’s eyes narrowed. A slow smile spread across his face and the dimple appeared in his left cheek. It disarmed her. “You’re nervous.” At that, she laughed outright. A quick bleat of a laugh. “Well, wouldn’t you be? If you were the one giving up power?” She frowned. “That is what this is about, right? I mean, you aren’t thinking I’m the one who wants the power and you’re going to be the…” she hesitated before saying the word. Saying it out loud in front of him made it real. Really real. She said it anyway. “Submissive.” His chuckle reassured her. “No, rest assured. I’m the Dominant.” “Good.” She leaned back in her chair, suddenly understanding why he hadn’t taken her right up to the bedroom. There were roles to be hashed out, understood. Tacit understanding wasn’t enough when physical freedom sat on the line. “So what’s next?” He shrugged. “That’s up to you.” “I thought you were the Dominant. Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?” “Not until you give me permission.” That confused her. He took her hand. It was the first time he’d touched her since she’d entered and Lauren felt the thrill right down to her toes. Her gaze fell to his hand. He reached forward and tilted her chin up and she looked into his eyes. His gaze told her of the seriousness with which he took this. He gave her honesty. He would demand honesty from her. No defenses, no walls to hide behind, no cute turns of phrase or deflections. He would bare his soul to her. Could she do the same? Lauren dropped her eyes, even as his fingers remained under her chin. He cocked his head, waiting to see if she had the courage. She’d walked in through his door even after doing her homework. That was a promising sign. But if she couldn’t say the

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words, if she couldn’t look him in the eye and give her permission, he couldn’t take her further. The corner of her mouth twitched and turned upward. She let out the breath she’d been holding and brought her gaze back to his. She said the words with conviction, “Yes, John. I give you permission. Whatever we do next will be at your discretion.” His grin had nothing to do with his own pleasure and everything to do with the huge step she’d just taken. Well, perhaps it had a little to do with his pleasure. She trusted him and that all by itself was a powerful aphrodisiac. Squeezing her hand, he simply stood and pulled her to her feet. This huge act of courage should not go unrewarded. He moved his hands so his fingers encircled each of her wrists. “Bindings take many forms.” He kept his voice pitched low and neutral as he explained. “Sometimes I’ll want you spread, like this.” Keeping his fingers wrapped around her wrists, he moved her arms out parallel to the floor. “I might want you hanging.” He pulled her arms up over her head and heard her intake of breath. Looking down at her, he brought her arms down and around to the small of her back. “Or I might want your hands out of the way entirely.” She leaned forward, a little off balance at his movement of her arms. Quickly taking advantage of the fact, he transferred both her wrists to his left hand, holding her firmly as his right came up to caress her cheek. “With them out of the way,” he told her softly, “you can’t prevent me from taking a kiss.” Her face turned up to meet him as she went on tiptoe. He kept his smile inside and brushed his lips against hers, not taking possession yet. Teasing, he waited, his eyes holding hers. And still she remained on tiptoe, although now because he’d pulled her close, forcing her to remain there. With his free hand he brushed the hair from her face, cupped her neck then fisted his hand in her wonderful tresses. A gasp followed by a small noise from the back of her throat meant he followed the right track. Her lips really were wonderful for kissing. Such a delicate shade of pink. He loved that she wore little to no makeup. The lack signaled she liked herself. That she didn’t need more to make her feel complete. Those lips beckoned to him now, slightly parted. She leaned against him for balance, her face upturned in trust. When he kissed her in earnest Lauren thought she might come right there in his kitchen. The first brush tantalized, the second touch descended quickly into dominance. She knew what he wanted. What she wanted. Hadn’t she devoured those web sites last night? Each one she turned to showed her something new, something she’d thought of only in the darkest nights, something she realized now she wanted very much. Without the slightest hesitation, she bent her head back, opening to him as his lips sought hers. His tongue pressed and she let him explore. Without even realizing she did so, she leaned into him, willing her entire being to him. 88

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Again and again his lips slanted over hers, tasting her, taking her. She wanted to reach up and take him in her arms, but he had her arms caught fast. Her knee, a woman’s best weapon against unwanted advances, could do damage. Part of her knew she could twist away if she really wanted to. But she didn’t want to. He had asked for her submission, freely given. Well, she was giving it, enjoying every moment of his touch on her. And then he was gone. He pulled away, letting her hands go and setting her on her feet. The sudden lack of closeness disoriented her and she blinked several times trying to catch her breath and looked up to see him grinning. “You are amazing, do you know that?” he told her. “I am? I was just thinking the same thing about you and that kiss. Hot damn, but that was good.” “So you’re okay with all this? You’ll exchange power with me for the afternoon?” “Oh yeah. If it leads to more kisses like that one, I’m a go for launch.” He laughed and took her hand. “Then let’s get you to the launch pad.” Without another word, he led her back through the short hall to the stairs. In less than a minute they’d reached the doorway of his bedroom, which Lauren could see had been set up before she got there. For one thing, the bed had been stripped of all coverings but for a single fitted sheet over the mattress. Glancing around, she saw the comforter neatly folded in the corner with the pillows on top. This afternoon’s events were not going to be sex, a cuddle and a nap. She shivered in spite of her desires. Several long, silver rods sat propped against the wall by his dresser, the top of which had also been cleared. Where several days ago lay the detritus of a normal life—a comb, a brush, deodorant, cologne, now lay a ping-pong paddle, a riding crop, a small rubber flogger and several vibrators in neat rows. Just a few of the toys he wanted to show her? “Coming?” Lauren started, not having realized she’d paused in the doorway. Chuckling, she stepped into the room with a flip remark. “Not yet.” He laughed with her and Lauren liked that zingers weren’t against the rules. This ground held no familiarity. She’d given him power, but what, exactly, did that mean? Suddenly the protocols seemed overwhelming. “John, I…” She ordered her thoughts and tried again. “Sorry. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do all of a sudden. Giving myself to you to ‘play’ with, as the site I looked at last night called it, is a wonderful thought in the abstract. But in the reality, am I just supposed to blindly follow along? Passive to the extreme?” John pulled her close and took her in his arms. “That’s where the negotiation comes in. We haven’t really done any of that because you’re too new at this. You don’t know the questions to ask. That’s okay.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ll figure out what 89

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you want. I suspect,” he unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, “that we’ll develop protocols together.” “You don’t want me to call you ‘Sir’, do you?” His fingers continued to unbutton her blouse. “We’re both military. For us, that title has overtones it doesn’t have for others.” She smiled, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck. “And of course, there’s the little matter that I outrank you.” The back of his finger brushed over her collarbone. “Which would make it only more interesting.” She was losing track of the conversation. Her blouse now hung open, his fingers coming lower to explore the lacy outlines of her new bra. “Very interesting,” she breathed. “As is this.” John’s finger slid under the lace to caress the top of her breast. The lace she’d bought to seduce him. Only he turned the tables. He seduced her. Taking in a deep breath that swelled her breasts, she let it out slowly, the muscles of her shoulders relaxing as she did so. “Better?” he asked. His finger had reached her nipple. All she could do was nod. With a sudden movement, he brushed her blouse off her shoulders and turned her around so she leaned against him. Once again he captured her hands behind her. With her head against the hard muscles of his chest, her neck lay open and bare. When the back of his free hand brushed against her cheek and continued along her neck, Lauren suddenly understood just how vulnerable she was. John knew he didn’t need to actually apply pressure to Lauren’s neck to get the effect he wanted. All he had to do was rest his hand there, his fingers encircling that wonderful whiteness. She trembled but didn’t make any move to get away. Taking this as a good sign, he continued, wanting to explore that lacy bra. Was it new? He hoped so. That would mean she’d bought it just for him and that thought gave him a very warm feeling that had nothing to do with sex. His fingers traced the outline of the bra. One of those surreptitiously padded jobs that forced the breasts together and up so a wonderful cleavage formed between them. John had noticed that cleavage as soon as he’d opened the door. She’d left one extra button of her blouse undone just to show it off. Another point in her favor. Leaving the warmth of her breasts, he explored deeper. Her skirt’s elastic waistband posed no impediment to his explorations. Tempted as he was to head straight to her pussy, they had the entire afternoon. A quick glance at the clock on the highboy showed it was 2:25. Plenty of time. His hand, instead, cupped her nearly naked ass. John had given her no instructions as to what to wear, but clearly Lauren knew what she wanted. Only a small thong 90

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covered her mound and pussy, he could feel the thin strap over her hip. She moved against him, angling to give him better access, and another one of those marvelous little whimpers escaped her throat. “You like this,” he murmured into her ear, more a statement of fact than an attempt to persuade. “Yes.” With her head still tilted back, even though his hand had long left her neck, her voice came out wispy and a little strained. Could that be because she’d already moved into that mysterious zone known as “sub space”? He still held her wrists behind her. Letting them go, he brought his hand up to rest on her shoulder. A warm breeze wafted in through the room’s open window and she lifted her head to it, inhaling even as she rubbed her arms. From outside came the sound of a lawnmower a few doors down. John smiled. He loved the juxtaposition of normalcy with what conspired in his bedroom. If they only knew of the little piece of heaven he had carved for the two of them today. Lauren definitely liked this. She hadn’t lied when John asked her. Having nothing to do except exist held some tantalizing advantages. If she thought about it, existing was all she’d been doing for the past several months, making no decisions, having no direction. With a smile, she shoved those thoughts aside. Today existed only for John and her. She hadn’t made any decisions about those outside matters so far, they could wait another day. A straight-back chair had been added to the room. John left her, pulled it to the center of the room and straddled it, his arms over the back. With a challenge in his eyes he gave her a one-word command. “Strip.” Lauren laughed. “Really?” “Really.” She looked again and realized he wasn’t playing. Feeling more than a little selfconscious, she debated what item to take off first. He’d already discovered she wore nothing but a thong under the skirt, so she hooked her thumbs into the elastic and slid it down over her hips, letting it puddle at her feet. She slipped her sandals off next. He watched, dispassionate. That unnerved her a little more. She had a good body. Being in the ER had meant building muscles. Being in the Army had meant keeping in shape. Maybe she didn’t do it right? Strippers got men excited all the time. Should she put a little oomph into it? Deciding on the side of the tease, she slowly slid one strap of her bra down her arm, then the other. Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp then brought the red lace down her arms and off her body. Unsure where to put it, she dropped it on top of the skirt at her feet. Hooking her thumbs in the band, she slid the thong down to her ankles, then off each foot. Again she dropped it to the floor.

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“Fold the clothes and put them on the empty spot on the dresser behind you.” Frowning a little, she did as he told her. Taking orders didn’t feel unnatural to her. As an officer she gave as many as she took though. These commands, however, had a different tone entirely. Setting the folded garments on the dresser, she took a good look at the implements he had laid out there. Despite her misgivings, her pussy moistened at the sight of all that leather and rubber. Turning, she tried to figure out how to stand. This was a new one for her—standing naked before a man who did nothing but look you over as if he were deciding which might be the most vulnerable point to attack first. She put her chin out, defiant. Her hands went on her hips and she turned completely around before him. “Like what you see? Think you might buy it?” “I think it talks too much.” Her jaw dropped. Talked too much? It? Just what did he think…? Before she could answer he stood and approached her. “I think it needs to learn the value of silence.” He held up a small ball gag and waited. Clearly this would be her call. She nodded, still struggling over the pronoun “it”. Yes, she’d been the first to use the term, but she’d meant her body. He meant her being. Suddenly being deprived of personhood sent her further into uncertainty. John smiled as he stepped behind her to seat and buckle the rubber gag under her ponytail. Introducing conflict. He’d thought telling her to strip might be enough. Calling her “it”, however, proved much more effective. Sliding the strap in, he finished the exposition of the scene with one last command. “Try to push it out.” When she couldn’t, he gathered her in tightly, her back to his chest, her arms pinned at her sides. “Remember you have given yourself to me. You exist as a separate entity no longer. You are simply an object for me to use as I see fit. Nothing more.” Behind the gag, another whimper. Mind-fucks held incredible power to arouse and over the years John had learned to employ them to his advantage. Keeping her held tightly, he pushed her toward the bed. Had she seen the cuffs laid at the foot? Turning her to face him, he didn’t give her time to react, pushing her so she fell backward onto the soft mattress. Before she’d finished her bounce he had one ankle in his hand, the cuff already slapping around it. He fit the D-ring through the slit so that the leather encased her ankle and picked up the small lock that would keep it in place. By that time she’d nearly recovered, getting her elbows under her to raise her body. John locked the cuff and dropped her foot. “Give me your other foot.”

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He didn’t give her a choice, and yet he did. By giving the command he gave her the option to refuse. The reality of the scene differed from the illusion. He gave the orders, but she was in command. Slowly she lifted her leg. John quickly affixed the second cuff, again locking it into place. Then, before she understood what he was about, he grabbed one of the silver poles resting against the wall and, using a quick-release catch, hooked it to the second cuff. To reach the first one, however, he had to spread her legs farther apart. Not giving her a choice this time, he simply pushed them and fastened the other quick-release. Now her legs couldn’t come together no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes widened in astonishment. John gave her a moment to try figuring out what kinds of movement she did have. The one-inch catches that fastened her cuffs to the spreader bar gave her a little room to maneuver, limited though it might be. Satisfied with the range, he held out his hand and helped her to stand. “Over to the chair,” he instructed. Clearly she wanted to say something to him. Her look implied enough that he figured she’d scold him for not putting them on while she stood next to the chair so she wouldn’t have to duck-waddle her way over, leaning on him for support. Of course that was exactly the lesson she needed to learn from this small exercise. She needed to learn dependence, specifically, dependence on him. Trust. Not easy for anyone to learn after a lifetime of messages training the mind to think for itself. Yet, in power-exchanging, she gave that up. The look alone gave evidence she didn’t find this an easy task. Once he had her positioned behind the chair, he grabbed a poly-fill pillow from the pile at the side of the room and placed it over the back of the chair, one hand on her back to guide her down and over it. “Hands on the seat for now,” he told her, making sure the pillow didn’t slide forward too much. Her feet, firmly planted on the floor behind the chair, didn’t rise and he nodded. Good. He’d only eyeballed this particular chair as being the right height for her. Sliding a hand between the pillow and her waist, he double-checked to be sure she could breathe. Satisfied, he moved to the next step. Time for another mind-fuck. He ran his hand around her waist and over her very exposed buttocks. “You have a very spankable ass, you know. Just perfect for paddling.” A sound came from the other end of her bent body and he realized she tried to talk around the gag. She stopped when he bent and took her hand in his. “Tied tightly, I told you. So tight you couldn’t move.” As he spoke, he slid a black leather cuff around her left wrist, again fastening it with a small lock. “I am a man of promises, as I showed you the other night.” He locked the right wrist in its case, then idly took a small length of clothesline and looped it through the D-ring.

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“You will not be able to escape me. You will wonder just why you let yourself get put in this position.” He placed her arm alongside the seat and brought the rope down to the chair rung, stretching her arm out to tie it tightly. Her hand dangled, useless. Keeping his voice calm and neutral, he continued. “Part of you will scream with anger at what I do to you. Part of you will wonder if you’ve gone insane.” He cuffed and tied off the other arm, pulling her slightly forward in the process. He put his mouth next to her ear. “But the biggest part of you will let go of all that and force the others to go along for the ride.” He stood and walked around behind her again. “And do you know why? Because deep down inside yourself, so deep even you don’t look very often, down where you keep your darkest secrets—you want this.” He ran his hand along her back, watching her shiver. “You like this.” He paused to pick up the paddle from the dresser. “You need this.” He simply set the cold surface of the paddle on her skin, nothing more. She cried out and John knew if he ran a finger through her slit it would come up soaked with her juices. “You came from a simple flogging before. Can you come from a spanking?” He threw the words down, half in challenge, half in curiosity. Taking aim, he let the paddle fall. Lauren nearly came with the first slap of the paddle against her ass. God, what he did to her. She did like this. She did want it. No, she needed it. How did he know? Several times the paddle landed on the tender flesh, each slap making her gasp, not in pain, but anguish of a different sort. Her pussy cried out for relief. Unknowingly, so did her voice. He pulled her up by her ponytail. “Is it ready to come so soon?” he asked her. An object, he treated her like a toy for his amusement. She nodded into his fist. The paddle slapped her ass again, harder. “You will come only at my command, do you understand?” She nodded and the paddle descended again. A war began between her mind and body. She wanted to come, but he demanded her obedience. Another thwack and she cried out again, desperate to hold on. “I will count from four down to one. On one, you may come.” The paddle fell in the same place as the last time, the sting nearly making her crawl out of her skin. She couldn’t move. Not a single inch. Between the bar holding her legs apart, the angle at which she hung over the back of the chair, the ties on her arms and now his hand holding her head captive by her ponytail, she could only hang suspended at his commands. “Four.”

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The paddle again on the same spot. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t wait. Yet she must. “Three.” Her cry, strangled by the gag, came out garbled. In her head she said, “I can’t. I can’t hold it.” And yet she did, for she was his to command. “Two.” She whimpered, grabbing at the last shreds of control. “One. Come for me.” He felt her body convulse under his hands. No sounds came from behind the gag now, her orgasm had gone internal. The chair rocked and he steadied it, watching her pleasure flush her skin. The thrill of power started a wonderful tension coiling in his groin and he stood back as the orgasm left her, admiring her ass, now turned a beautiful shade of pink. Bending to remove the spreader bar, he helped her put her feet together, inhaling deeply the musky scent that proved her arousal. Reaching forward, he slipped the knots on the ropes to free her arms. When her hands pushed her body up a little on the chair, he smiled, glad to see she wasn’t all that far gone yet. The afternoon was still young and there was lots more where that came from. “Stand slowly. Your blood is uneven right now.” She rose, and when he caught her eyes, he saw she glowed. The pink cheeks of her face matched the pink of her ass and she grinned around the gag. He should get that out. Her jaw wasn’t used to it and would be tired, if it wasn’t already. Stepping behind her, he unclasped the buckle then gently removed the gag. A strand of drool came along with it and she chuckled. “That’s what you get when I can’t hardly swallow,” she managed as she wiped the drool on her chin with her hand. “Nothing I mind. Come, sit for a moment while I clean up.” She moved to the front of the chair and he hovered beside her, wanting to be sure she wasn’t going to fall over in a dead faint from the sudden standing. “I’m okay,” she reassured him. Then her ass touched the seat and she flinched. “Are you sure?” She gave a low chuckle and eased herself down, sitting slightly to the side, keeping the side he’d been harshest on up a little. “I’m fine.” “Then I’ll just rinse this off.” John left her to take the gag to the bathroom and run it under water. This would be her gag. No one else had ever used it. No one else ever would. Leaving it on the side of the sink to dry, he returned. She still sat where he’d left her, turning the wrist cuffs around and around, examining them for every detail.

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“What’s the verdict?” he asked. “With these? Or with that experience?” “Both.” He picked up the spreader bar and put it back against the wall, then came forward and knelt before her, untying the ropes from the chair as they talked. “Well, these are quite interesting. I wondered what it would feel like to be fettered, but these are actually pretty comfortable.” She jiggled her wrists. “And the locks sound like jingle bells!” “How do you feel about wearing them?” Her face grew thoughtful and she dropped her hands to her lap, her gaze still fixed on the locks. “I’m not sure. This is all so new for me, I’m not sure where the symbolism stops and the practicality begins.” John sat back and nodded. “There are a lot of emotional overtones that come out of BDSM. I have two friends whose wives are also their slaves. Completely. Total ownership transfer.” He watched to see if he shocked her and felt some surprise that he didn’t. She simply nodded and waited for him to continue his thought. “I also have another friend whose total BDSM kink is putting pillows over his partner’s wrists and ankles and telling her not to move. She doesn’t and they call that kinky.” Lauren chuckled. “After what you just did to me? I’d call that vanilla!” “What did you like most about that small scene?” “Small scene? I came like nobody’s business and you never once even touched my clit. How did you do that?” Now it was John’s turn to chuckle. “I didn’t. The best orgasms start in the brain. You, my dear young lady, have an excellent brain.” Her blush had faded but now it came up again at the compliment. “Thank you. But seriously, I thought friction to be a necessary part of pushing the orgasm along.” John nodded. “For most people, I think that’s so. A combination of mood and physical touch is needed. But for others…” He gestured to Lauren. “Others have such powerful imaginations that, coupled with a small amount of sexual pain—” “Like the paddling,” Lauren interrupted. “Like the paddling,” John acknowledged. “That’s all you need to push you over the edge. Not that a little physical friction isn’t also sometimes needed.” He grinned and Lauren suddenly saw the wolf hidden under his sheep’s clothing. Her still-moist pussy suddenly twinged. A thought occurred to her. “You didn’t come yet.” John stood. “Not yet. I usually can manage two, sometimes three times in a twentyfour-hour period. I don’t want to waste one too early.”

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Again she blushed, suddenly feeling like a schoolgirl. Well, wasn’t she? John, a teacher in the outside world, also became a teacher here in the bedroom, helping her understand not only what he wanted from her, but what she wanted from herself.

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Chapter Eleven John held out his hand. “Break’s over. Back on your feet.” Lauren put her hand in his without hesitation. He hauled her up, cuffs jingling, but instead of pulling her into his arms, he led her only a few steps from the chair before leaving her and moving the chair back against the wall. “There are three types of binding,” he explained as he picked up a small hank of white cotton rope. “Constriction prevents movement.” He uncoiled it and dropped the majority to the floor. Finding the two ends, he slid the soft rope through his hands to find the middle. “We’ve done that both times.” He chuckled. “To great effect, I might add.” Lauren grinned in return. “Definitely to great effect.” He came behind her, bringing the rope over her head to center it just under her breasts, pulling it back toward him and crossing it tightly. She gasped and took a wider stance. He waited for her to settle again before bringing the rope to the front again and crossing it up between her breasts, bringing the ropes to the back again. “Expansion stretches the body, opening it for exploration.” He tied off the ends, having made a rope bra of sorts. “Shibari is the Japanese art of using these two methods to force the body into some wonderful shapes.” “Is that what you’re doing now? Shibari?” She tripped over the word a little and John corrected her pronunciation. “A form of it, yes.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Wrist cuffs have to go. They’re in the way.” “Aww, I like these.” Despite her words, she held out each wrist in obedience. He set them on the dresser and chose another, slightly longer hank of the same rope. “How do you know which one you want?” “You see the ends? How they’re colored? Blue is twenty-five feet, red is thirty, green means fifty feet. Put your hands behind your back.” He kept the intonation of his voice practical. Another chapter, another small exposition. Besides which, talking disarmed her, helped her from putting those walls back up that he’d already taken down. That didn’t stop him from starting the tension by giving her nipple a small tweak just to remind her of her purpose. The shiver she gave made it worth it. “There’s a position called the Reverse Prayer. Not everyone can do it. You put your palms together and raise your arms behind your back, as if in prayer.” “Do you want me to try it?”

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“I’ll let you make this call. I don’t know your body well enough yet to know how flexible you are.” “I’m in excellent shape.” He heard the grin in her voice and watched her bend her arms upward. The movement forced her breasts into the rope. “Oh my.” “Very nice.” Before she could move again, he looped the rope through her forearms several times, wrapping it tight enough to prevent her from lowering her arms, but not tight enough to cut off circulation to her hands. As it was, her arms would go to sleep if left in this position too long. “If you’re constricting me here, is it a safe bet to say you’ll be stretching me down below?” John gave a final tug, seating the knot. Tucking the few inches of rope left into the tie, he stood back to examine his handiwork. “Would you like to see what you look like?” “Can I? I’d love to.” “Be right back.” While he was gone, Lauren twisted and turned, testing the ropes. Each movement showed her restrictions in a new way. Each one made her pussy open with need. Yeah, she liked this binding idea. Of course, there was far more to the BDSM lifestyle than just being tied up. Kinky sex alone actually fell pretty close to the vanilla side. What about all the other parts? The Dominance and submission, the power exchange, the Master/slave dynamic? Where did John stand on those? For that matter, where did she? Sarah willfully admitted to being Phillip’s slave. Beth acknowledged her own dominance in the bedroom, yet conceded Paul was not her slave. Where did she want to be with John? Because at this point, she knew that much. She wanted Big John as a part of her life. Just then he returned, digital camera in hand. “I don’t have a good set of mirrors to show you the other side of you, but if you’re willing, I’ll take a picture. We can delete it immediately.” “Go ahead.” The flash went off, then another. Lauren found them extremely arousing. Not only to be naked and tied up, but photographic evidence? Damn, but she was learning things about herself. John came around and showed her the picture. She smiled at the image of her hands pointed heavenward behind her back. “Wow. That’s pretty—and incredible.” “Does it hurt?” Lauren shook her head. “Stretches my shoulders some, but I suspect the minor discomfort is worth whatever you’re going to do next.” “I’ll delete these and get started then.” 99

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“Don’t delete them!” She spoke quickly to catch him. John paused. “Really?” She blushed. “I’d like a copy, actually. They really are very…sexy.” John laughed out loud. “Why, Lauren Carr, are you telling me you are an exhibitionist?” Her head dropped and she sighed. “I think I might be.” John’s hand came under her chin and tilted her head up. “You are a wonderful, sexy woman who deserves the very best experience I can give you.” He spoke from the heart. John had dropped the Dom mask, dropped the gentleman mask, dropped every mask and given Lauren a glimpse at the man he truly was. She couldn’t speak. Finally she managed a weak thank you and the spell broke. John had been unnerved by the energy that passed between them in that moment. He guessed that Lauren was too. John walked behind her and put his palms on his dresser, steadying himself until he regained control. What was that all about? Determined to complete the tie-up, he picked up a third length of rope, this one coded with a pink end signifying ten feet. Such short lengths were good for what he had in mind. Going back to Lauren, he didn’t dare make eye contact. Taking her nipple and pulling it forward, he might have been a little more forceful than was necessary to judge by the suddenness of her gasp. Not letting it deter him, he gave her nipple a twist before letting it go. Still not looking at her, he slid the rope under her right breast, bouncing the globe on the soft rope a moment before crossing the ropes and wrapping them around each other. A quick movement and the breast rounded, squeezed tightly by the rope. Lauren gasped again and John kept wrapping the breast and giving a quick tie to cinch it. Wrap, cinch. Wrap, cinch. The breast turned pink, then red, then a wonderful lavender. Another ten-foot rope took care of the other breast. In John’s experience no woman had identical breasts. One was always slightly larger than the other. In Lauren’s case, the left took one less turn of the rope. It too swelled and changed color. Lauren’s breathing became shallow, quicker in tempo. Taking no pity on her, he ran his fingernails over her engorged breasts. She cried out and stepped back, her legs suddenly unsteady. Well, he could take care of that. Lauren’s head reeled. He changed so quickly. One moment the teacher, the next speaking from the heart, the next the powerful Dom who only saw her body as a medium to sculpt for his pleasure. Her pussy openly gushed her arousal. He pulled her back toward the bed, but didn’t put her on it. Feeling a little foolish standing there, she watched him put a heavy rope over a large hook hanging from the ceiling. Had that always been there? How could she have not seen it? 100

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Of course, there had been so many changes to the room she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t taken them all in. John worked quickly to set the rope to his needs, but Lauren had time to appreciate again his grace in movement. She wished he’d taken off his shirt. She would’ve loved to see those muscles move as he reached up and knotted the rope in place. Satisfied, he came back to her. He stood before her and she looked up at him, determined to make eye contact, but when they did, she nearly stepped away. Determined. Not going to take any flack. Not going to be disobeyed. All those things, she saw in his eyes. He put her under the hook and tied the rope he’d hung to the ties at her back. Pulling her up onto her toes, she suddenly found herself off balance. The rope caught her, however, and wouldn’t let her fall. John turned her away from him and again she had to lean into the ropes before she could catch her balance. He caught her foot and brought it up, sliding a loop of rope over her knee and tightening it so she couldn’t put it back down. Finding balance on one foot was harder, but she did it. The breeze came in the window and across her nowspread pussy and she nearly came. He stood before her, the anger gone from his eyes. Now he held only command. “You’re going to be tempted to give in to it. Don’t. Come only when I tell you.” “Got it.” His hand dipped between her legs and Lauren gave up trying to think. She leaned forward without realizing it, her head down and her eyes closing to better concentrate on the wonderful tingles he caused as he fingered her pussy lips, parting them to probe deeper, eventually sliding a single finger inside her. “You’re not going to come, are you?” She didn’t want to break the mood by answering, so she only shook her head. No, she didn’t want to come. This place felt so wonderful�