True Devotion (22 page)

“A good memory.”

She nodded, pleased that he seemed to understand the importance of having it.

“I promised Ryan dinner out tonight. Would you care to join us?”

She looked from father to son and was startled to realize she wished she could accept. She really liked these two; they so easily conveyed an exclusive club. The invitation to be a friend was there to be accepted. “I’ll have to pass, but thanks. Joe is coming by when he gets off work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Maybe another time.”

“I’ll remind you someday you said that.”

She laughed softly. “Do that.”

Twenty

* * *

Masking tape covered the woodwork, the countertops were covered in newspapers, the floor had a drop cloth laid out, and the smell of paint hung heavily in the air. Joe almost had the ceiling in the kitchen finished.

“Ready to take a break?” Kelly asked, studying his work. He was fast. He had already given most of the ceiling a second coat.

“A few more minutes should do it.”

She was grateful he had apparently dismissed this morning and her unexplainable behavior. He had appeared after work bringing Misha with him, ready to help her paint and wallpaper, and in the last hour hadn’t brought the subject up. She owed him for that kindness.

Kelly set down the roller she had been using on the east wall, and with a rueful smile looked at her paint-splattered T-shirt. She was glad now she had taken off Nick’s medallion before she began painting. “This is a memorable second date.”

Joe glanced down and quirked an eyebrow. “You did look better dressed Sunday night. I don’t think white freckles are in this year.”

“You should see your hair. You’re going gray.”

He touched it, amused. “Really?”

“Rather salt and pepper at the moment.”

Kelly pulled out the pitcher of lemonade she had mixed earlier that day and retrieved glasses. She filled two as Joe finished up. When he was done, she handed him a glass. Since all the chairs were now stacked in the living room and she had used her couch for the breakable items she had moved from the kitchen counters, they sat on the floor using the cabinets as backrests.

“I like the wallpaper you found.”

“Do you?”

“It looks like something you would choose. Very . . . floral.”

She chuckled and knew the compliment was sincere but also knew it was way outside something Joe would normally comment on. He was trying. It was not a busy pattern, the design was subtle, but it was an improvement over white walls. She planned to use it to set off the area around the table from the rest of the kitchen. She had a matching border to go above the cabinets as well. “Since the house is overflowing with flowers right now, I thought the pattern would fit right in.”

“I’ve noticed all the flowers.”

“And here I thought you were never going to mention them,” she teased.

“Charles has good taste, in flowers as well as his choice of lady to shower them on.”

“I hear a compliment in there somewhere.”

“Probably. I’m glad you didn’t say we had to keep our dating quiet. If he keeps hovering, I’ll have to shoo him off you one of these days.”

She laughed at that image. “He’s just a friend, Joe. You’ve got nothing to worry about on that front. Besides, I like Ryan. I don’t want you shooing them away.”

Joe sighed and reached over for her right hand. “Then how about a ring—right here? I can give you my Annapolis graduation ring. Just like when we were back in high school.”

“I couldn’t wear it when I was on duty for fear I would lose it, and I’m already wearing Nick’s eagle medallion on a chain.” She rested her glass against her jeans. “But it was nice of you to offer. How about a bracelet that says
She’s Mine
?”

“Just remember that.”

She sneezed at the stirred-up dust and wiped the back of her hand across her face, then abruptly sneezed again. Joe rescued her drink from her hand with a laugh as she dropped her head down and her hair swung forward as she tried to stop another one.

“Okay?”

She did her best to nod and wipe at her eyes only to blink like crazy when paint transferred and her eyes began to burn. Joe reached up to the counter and retrieved a clean rag. “Thanks.” She dried her wet eyes and blinked away the rest of the stinging irritation. It was almost as bad as when she touched her eyes when there was salt on her fingers.

Joe set aside their drinks and took the rag from her hand. “Come here. You’re wearing more paint than you got on the walls.”

He tugged her closer. Her heart fluttered, and her hands came to rest firmly against his forearm. This was being close with no safety net—the equivalent of lighting a fuse—only he didn’t seem to notice the way every one of her senses had just gone haywire. He calmly wiped at the white freckles on her nose, apparently unperturbed by the contact. She wanted to slide her hands through his hair and compel him to kiss her. The thought of their first kiss had been clouding her mind for days, and she wanted to experience it, wanted to know.

The corded muscles of his upper arm were firm. She wanted to wrap her hand around his arm and rub that muscle with her thumb, trace its definition. She swallowed and closed her eyes. She was going to look foolish doing so, but she had no choice but to pull away before he finished removing the paint. He was too observant to miss how she was reacting. She eased back an inch.

“Kelly.”

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, and the intensity in his eyes made her quiver. He was absorbing her, his gaze so intense, no amusement now. She had known his eyes were blue, but as she looked into them, the rest of the world around her faded. There were only those blue eyes and the mystery of what he was thinking . . .

His hand slid under her hair and cradled the back of her neck. “Kelly—,” he whispered her name as he lowered his head.

It was bliss. His mouth was warm and firm as it settled on hers. Her raging emotions settled, and then burst back to life again. It was a relief that the suspense was over and surprised delight at what she found.

Someone had taught Joe how to kiss. She came to rest firmly against his chest and the kiss deepened. He was holding back, but what he was letting her share was enough to make her wonder how she had endured without this. She felt who he was come across in his kiss. The power and the control. He was taking exquisite care of her even as he explored.

Her hand settled on his chest. All her senses were drinking him in. She could feel his heartbeat under her hand.

He ended the kiss with obvious reluctance. The hand cradling her neck slid over to her shoulder and then eased down her back. She buried her head against his shoulder, hiding, catching her breath.

The tension was gone. She wanted to laugh. She could feel her body relaxing now, starting with her toes and working up through her muscles—a deep relaxation that came from being totally absorbed with someone.

He was idly stroking his hand over her hair, repairing the damage he’d done.

“That could get addictive,” she finally said.

His warm laugh set everything right again. “That is a very safe conclusion.” He coiled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I’m going to dream about that kiss.”

His hand tipped up her chin. He was smiling, and it was an intimate one she hadn’t seen before, and certainly never directed toward her. “You taste like honey with just a little tartness, but I’m guessing that’s the lemonade.”

Feeling a comfortableness with him she didn’t expect, she propped her elbow on his arm and considered him. “You were like . . . dark chocolate icing that you put on top of cupcakes. Rich. Not too sweet. Full of surprises. Who taught you to kiss?”

“Oh, now you want me to kiss and tell.”

“Yep. You’re good.”

She swore he actually blushed.

He looked at her for a moment, then ever so slightly nodded. “The East Coast, a long time ago, before the stripes of command settled me down. I used to like to spend Friday nights on a date.”

“I bet you broke a few hearts.”

“Not intentionally.” He pushed back the hair that had fallen across her forehead and smiled. “We’ve got paint drying on rollers and it’s not going to get done on its own. We were supposed to be painting tonight, not getting permanently sidetracked.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“You bet I am.”

She laughed and leaned over and retrieved her lemonade glass; the ice had melted and the drink was watered down. “Okay, we’ll get back to work. If we must.” Their first kiss had knocked any sense of proportion out of her. It had exceeded both her expectations and her dreams. She needed a few moments doing something safe.

She got to her feet. “What do you want to tackle next?”

Joe watched her for a few moments, then reluctantly got up and turned his attention to studying the ceiling. “Another coat should finish this. We’ll need to move the refrigerator out.”

Kelly nodded and moved to shift the drop cloth in front of it out of the way. The top of the refrigerator was dusty. She grimaced at that as she moved the newspaper spread over it aside. Reaching over, she pushed open the patio door a little wider to help with the smell of paint. Misha, relegated to the back patio, sat outside the screen and whimpered. “Sorry, girl, not while the paint is open.”

Joe wrestled the appliance away from the wall. “You have quite a collection back here.” He picked up items that had fallen between the refrigerator and the countertop. Notes, to-do lists, coupons, and a snapshot of Nick from years ago.

“I don’t think it’s been moved in a few years.”

Joe put aside what he had found for her to glance through later. “Can you still get around?” The kitchen was small, and with the two of them working with the refrigerator pulled out, it was tight.

“Yes. I’m fine.” She turned her attention to taking down the remaining light fixture above the sink.

“Joe, how do you get paint out of Misha’s fur?”

He spun around, alarmed.

“Gotcha.”

He sent her a look that made her laugh. “Misha and paint are a dangerous combination.”

“I remember the stories from when you painted the boat.” The light fixture came loose. “Yuck.” She shook out dead bugs from the globe of the light fixture into the trash can. “Next time you get to do light fixtures.”

“Everything is small and dead.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

“Tell your men to back off. There is no reason to be watching Kelly,” Charles told the general, trying to control his anger. He’d spotted the men when he left the beach.

“The next few days are critical. You need to keep your focus,” the general replied. “You should not be worrying about a woman when there are higher priorities on your plate.”

“And I’m telling you to back off. You would be wise to listen.”

“Make a threat like that and I’ll just have to remove the problem from the scene. Would you be paying closer attention to my shipment if she disappeared? if your son disappeared?”

A day ago the threat would have stung, but the stakes were climbing and there was no time for emotion. “Your weapon would never arrive,” Charles replied coolly. If he was going to get them out of this situation safely, he had to have some maneuvering room, and pushing those guys back in their coverage was crucial. He should have just arranged an accident for the men following him. He still might have to. “Tell your men to stay out of sight. Even my son has mentioned seeing them watching.” His point had been made. Charles hung up the phone.

* * *

Kelly arched her back to loosen her muscles. She was sitting on the floor finishing the last of the patio door trim. Out of paint in her small can, she turned to pour more. She froze. “Joe, Misha is inside,” she said softly in warning.

Joe, finishing the trim along the ceiling, didn’t bother to look around. “I’m not falling for that one again.”

Kelly didn’t dare laugh.

Misha had come in and lain down beside her water dish to watch them work and was lying on the newspaper. And right beside her was the lid of the open paint can. So far she had white paint under her chin, and, from what Kelly could remember of the newspaper, also on her belly.

If Misha got up to come this way, not only would she come right through the worst of the paint, but she’d also hit the open box of wallpaper paste powder. All it would take for her to move was a glimmer of encouragement. Her tail was already wagging as she hoped for an invitation. Kelly averted her eyes to try to discourage Misha from coming over. “Joe, she is three feet behind you, just hoping for one of us to play with her. She brought her chew bone with her and has it resting on her front paws.”

His paintbrush stopped moving. “You’re serious. How did she get in?”

“The garage? The doorknob doesn’t latch well, and when I went out for more tape, I must not have flipped the dead bolt. More important, how do we get her cleaned up without leaving paint footprints across the carpet?”

“Let her come this way; then I’ll pick her up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Got a better idea?” He set down his paintbrush, came off the ladder, and slowly turned. “Hi, girl. Come here.”

It was all the encouragement Misha needed. She managed to get paint on her feet, belly, tail, and muzzle. Joe securely got a hold of her and a lot of the paint transfered to him.

“We might as well give her a bath.” Kelly stifled a laugh as he tried to hold the squirming dog. “We’ve got to do something pretty major to clean her up.”

Joe looked from his dog to her. “This isn’t cute.” His look—she couldn’t contain her laughter and it bubbled from her. What she would give for a camera right now. He braced himself and picked Misha up.

She hurried down the hall to the bathroom to get the shower curtain and the bathroom rugs out of the way, then moved aside so Joe could set Misha down in the tub. Misha was quivering and whimpering—she hated getting a bath.