Kitabı oku: «The Marine And Me»

Chapter One

Steve Kozlowski had been in the Marine Corps for over a decade. He’d survived the most rigorous training in the world. He’d faced hostile forces in Afghanistan, survived temperatures of over one hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit wearing full-battle gear, seen the worst of conditions on half the continents on the planet.

He was one of the few, the proud, the tough.

Which meant he could handle his matchmaking Polish grandmother, no problem.

Even if his Busha was after him to meet the bookworm librarian next door, Steve could handle it. Or so he told himself. If necessary, he’d use evasive maneuvers to sidestep any matrimonial-minded booby traps that may have been laid down for his benefit.

That was the plan.

The reality was that he’d waited a minute too long.

The knock on the back door told him that much.

Steve could ignore it. He could sneak out the front door while his grandmother was in the bathroom.

But that smacked of cowardice, and Marines were not cowards.

“Aren’t you going to open the door?” Wanda called out from down the hall, obviously hearing the continued knocking.

“Affirmative.” Steve briskly yanked the kitchen door wide open.

A female stood there, frowning at him. “Uh, um, I’m looking for Wanda?”

“And you are?” As if he didn’t know.

“I’m Chloe Johnson from next door.”

“Right. Chloe the librarian. I should have guessed.” He nodded at her dumpy clothes—the charcoal-gray sweater that looked two sizes too big, the white parochial-school shirt and black skirt that sagged around her ankles. The combat-style boots were a bit of a surprise, however.

Her dark hair was in a tight bun on top of her head. She wore black-rimmed glasses that stood out against her pale skin like ink on a newspaper. She had to be the mousiest woman he’d ever seen.

“My grandmother is unavailable at the moment.” Steve deliberately kept his voice low, so as not to scare the poor female.

“Oh, uh…” She glanced around the room as if searching for something. “She told me to stop by and pick up some kolachkis for the library event tonight.”

“Right.” He’d already stolen three from the plate. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Wanda’s grandson, Steve, by the way.”

She nodded. “Nice to meet you. Bye.”

An instant later she was gone.

A minute after that, his grandmother reappeared in the kitchen and beamed at him. “So what did you think of Chloe? Isn’t she a sweet girl? Better than those wild women you seem to favor.”

Steve had to admit that in the past his taste in women had tended to lean toward good-time girls.

Then he’d met Gina. She’d been classy and smart.

He’d thought Gina was different. He’d been wrong. Thanks to an unexpected inheritance from his deceased Texas-oil-baron grandfather, Steve was a Marine with money. Lots of it.

That’s what had interested Gina. The money. Not him.

The recent betrayal still cut deep.

Gina had conned him, saying she loved him when she really loved his bank account.

Humiliated by his own gullibility, Steve had come home on leave to the people he could trust—his family. He definitely wasn’t looking to get into another romantic relationship. No way, no how. He’d visit his family for a while, then he planned on hitting the open road on his Harley, enjoying his freedom before returning to Camp Pendleton in California where he was stationed.

“Steve?” Wanda tugged on his arm to get his attention. “You haven’t said, what did you think of Chloe?”

“She looked like a librarian.”

Wanda frowned.

“She’s not really my type,” Steve added.

Wanda wagged her index finger at him. “You can’t know that from one brief meeting.”

Sure he could.

But he could tell by the stubborn tilt of her head that there was no convincing his Busha of that.

Wanda peered out through two of the aluminum blinds covering her kitchen window. “Oh, my. It looks like Chloe is having some kind of car trouble. You should go help her.”

Sighing, Steve went outside to find Chloe leaning over the side of a compact car. The pose drew his attention to her bottom. Considering the fact that she was dressed like a nun, he felt guilty for even observing the fact that she had curves beneath those ugly clothes.

“What’s the problem?” he gruffly asked.

“I don’t know.” Chloe straightened. “It won’t start. And I’ve got to be at the library in fifteen minutes.”

“Give her a lift,” Wanda called out through the now-open back door.

Looking at Chloe’s flushed face, Steve felt sorry for her.

“Take my car,” Wanda added. “Not that motorbike of yours.”

His Harley was not a mere motorbike, but he saw no point in arguing that fact at the moment.

So much for his battle plan. Busha had clearly won this first skirmish. But the war wasn’t over with yet.

This wasn’t the first time Wanda had tried to fix Chloe up, but it was definitely the worst. For the past few days, Chloe had heard all about Wanda’s grandson Steve. She’d seen all the pictures of his good-looking face and lean body standing tall and proud in a U.S. Marines dress-blues uniform. She’d smiled politely as Wanda had confessed that Steve was something of a ladies’ man, but that he was really only looking for the right woman, and then he’d settle down like his older married brothers.

Chloe wasn’t buying that. She’d recently broken up with a ladies’ man. She’d been blindly in love with Brad Teague, a handsome commodities broker. Her vision had been restored when she’d seen him kissing another woman and leading her up to his apartment.

Brad hadn’t shown a bit of remorse as he’d informed her that it wasn’t natural for a man to settle for just one woman.

She’d informed Brad that he could go jump into Lake Michigan.

Like Brad, Steve Kozlowski was good-looking, confident, sexy.

Like Brad, Steve judged a woman by her appearance. She’d seen the way Steve had looked at her when she’d walked into Wanda’s kitchen. He’d dismissed her as someone not worthy of his attention.

Which was just the way she wanted it.

She hadn’t anticipated the pity, however. That still stung. His expression as he’d helped her into his grandmother’s car had been downright humiliating.

“Are you cold? Would you like me to turn on the heater?” Steve asked her.

“I’m fine, thank you.” The evening was one of those perfect September examples of an autumn Chloe waited for all year. This was her favorite season—the crisp freshness to the air, the changing leaves, the toffee apples in the local market. Oh, yes, she was Fall’s Number-One Fan.

“So, Chloe, what made you decide to become a librarian?”

His question was voiced with a politeness that she felt covered an underlying lack of interest in the answer. So she was brief. “I like books. What made you decide to become a Marine?”

“I like blowing up things.”

She shot him a startled look.

He grinned at her. “Just checking to see if you were listening.”

Oh, she’d been listening, all right. And looking. Despite the fact that she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have noticed the way tiny laugh lines webbed out from the corners of his green eyes, or the way his light blue T-shirt clung to his wide shoulders, or the way his lower lip was full and surprisingly pleasing to look at. Actually, all of him was extremely pleasing to look at—from the top of his dark, short-cropped hair to the soles of his size-eleven feet.

She knew his shoe size because Wanda had told her, while showing her a photo album filled with pictures of Steve, from a baby crawling around to a young man riding a bicycle.

While Chloe thought that Wanda was a real sweetie, she had no desire to jump into another relationship any time soon. She liked her life the way it was—quiet and secure.

There was nothing quiet about Steve. Even his voice held a powerful resonance, his tone that of someone accustomed to delivering orders and having them instantly obeyed.

“You need to turn right at the next light,” Chloe told him.

“I remember. I used to visit the branch library when I was a kid and would visit Busha.”

“You lived in this neighborhood?”

“We lived all over. We moved around a lot because my father was in the Marines.”

“That didn’t bother you?”

“Moving? No. The military is like a big family. Even though we might be going to a new state for a new billet, people went out of their way to make us feel welcome.”

Chloe wondered what that would be like, to be made to feel welcome. It wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced when she’d been growing up. Not after her parents had died when she was eight.

“How about you?” he asked. “Did you grow up around here?”

“Not in this neighborhood, but in Chicago, yes.”

“What about family?”

“I’m an only child. My parents died when I was young. I’ve got an aunt, but we’re not close.”

The only thing her aunt was close to was her chemistry lab and her experiments. Sometimes Chloe had a hard time believing that the emotionally stunted scientist could be related to Chloe’s warm and loving mother Marie Johnson. Marie had been outgoing and full of life. Her older sister, Janis, had been remote and cold.

Janis. The name had a sharp edge that had suited the woman, whose angular face looked as if all the human kindness had been sucked out of it.

“That’s got to be a rough deal, not having family,” Steve said. “I know mine drive me nuts sometimes, but I can’t imagine my life without them.”

Sometimes Chloe did try and imagine what her life would have been like had her parents lived. But doing so only reopened old wounds. There was little point in doing that. She had to deal with the cards life had handed her.

“We turn left up here. The library is on the corner.”

Steve nodded. “And looks just like it did the last time I was here.”

“There’s parking around the back. If you could just let me off at the staff entrance there, that would be great.” She reached down for two heavy tote bags and then tried to balance the plate of kolachkis.

“Hold on a minute.” Steve reached out to touch her arm, covered by the baggy sweater. “Where’s the fire?”

“What?”

“Let me park and I’ll help you carry that stuff in.”

“There’s no need for that…”

“Sure there is. I’m protecting my Busha’s kolachkis from going splat in the parking lot before anyone can enjoy them.”

He efficiently parked the huge boat of a car, and then came around to open the door for her. Chloe would have opened it herself but she was momentarily distracted by the way he walked—shoulders back, head held high. He radiated a powerful presence merely by putting one foot in front of the other.

“Here, let me take that.” Steve reached out and his fingers brushed against hers as he took the plate of kolachkis.

His touch created lightning, flashing up her arm as heat permeated her entire body. She could feel the magic of it, and it was so powerful that the breath was momentarily snatched from her lungs.

No, no, this wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to be happening!

Unfortunately, telling herself that had absolutely no effect. Sexual awareness still hummed through her. A total zing-zing thing.

As if sensing her thoughts, Steve’s eyes met hers in a searching look. While unable to read his exact thoughts, she saw no mirroring awareness there in his smoky green eyes. And why should she? Unless the man had a nun fetish, there was no way he’d notice her dressed the way she was.

That was the plan. And it was working all too well.

The librarian had great legs. Steve had seen a flash of them as she’d jumped out of his grandmother’s car.

Her creamy calves had risen up from her combat boots, the curve of her knee a real attention grabber.

Or maybe he’d just been imagining things, because as he helped her with the door at the library’s staff entrance, she sure didn’t look like anything other than a…well, a librarian.

“Thanks again.” She set the tote bags on the floor and reached for the kolachkis. “You don’t have to stay. I can probably get someone to give me a ride home.”

Her obvious eagerness to get rid of him perversely made him want to stick around for a while. So instead of leaving, he merely went back outside and walked around to the front of the building and entered it that way.

It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in a public library, but he remembered how he and his twin brother Tom would check out the latest Star Wars paperback and then go home and devour it.

There had been a few changes in the place since then. More computers, more READ posters, more audiobooks.

But his main attention was captured by the sign advertising tonight’s program—a special whodunit mystery night.

“Are you here for the program?” The question came from a guy wearing a silk robe over a pair of dark pants. “I’m playing the role of Lord Grimley and this outfit is supposed to be my smoking jacket. I don’t know who thought of this idea of library staff playing the parts of the characters and having the patrons try and figure out who the murderer is in this drawing-room drama,” he grumbled as he tugged on the sleeve of his robe. “The program’s this way, just follow me.”

The meeting room was already crowded, so Steve took a seat in the back row and studied the flyer that he’d been handed on his way in. Sure enough, Chloe’s name was on it. Chloe Johnson playing the part of Miss Abbington, loyal secretary to Lord Grimley.

Steve didn’t really pay attention to the various clues that were given as the drama began. Instead he remained focused on Chloe. Her shoulders were hunched forward as if she were trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She reminded him of a nervous rabbit as she jabbed her glasses back in place when they slipped down the bridge of her nose.

So what was it about her that intrigued him?

That was the mystery that engrossed him as he sat there watching her.

He knew the exact moment she saw him, because she faltered a moment while delivering the line, “But Lord Grimley was the last one to see George alive.”

Steve was surprised at the glare she shot him a moment later. There had certainly been nothing mousy about that. It had carried the punch of a grenade launcher.

So what was going on here? Because something sure was.

Chloe couldn’t believe Steve had the nerve to spy on her while she was doing the library program. She’d told him he could leave, that he should leave. So why hadn’t he? He wasn’t the kind of man who normally spent an evening at the local library, she was sure of that.

Steve was a man of action. A Marine accustomed to the adrenaline rush of battle. A man who loved speed. She’d driven with him, she knew. The guy rode a Harley, for heaven’s sake.

He stood out like a wolf in a bevy of docile hens. Most of the rest of the audience was collecting Social Security, not combat pay.

A frown from Martin Pritchett, the branch manager playing the role of Lord Grimley, let her know that she’d just missed a cue.

Chloe quickly recovered and the rest of the drama went by without a hitch. The audience was asked to write down the name of who they suspected to be the murderer on a slip of paper, which was put into a box decorated with question-mark wrapping paper.

Chloe had organized a drawing for several door prizes, including books by bestselling mystery authors.

Martin had the honor of finally revealing the murderer. “The guilty party tonight was actually none other than…” He paused for dramatic effect. Martin enjoyed being the center of attention. “The loyal secretary Miss Abbington. Shame on you, Miss Abbington.” He shook a finger at her as she hung her head in remorse.

The audience seemed to enjoy the event, applauding enthusiastically at its conclusion. Or maybe they were just happy about the hot tea and goodies that Martin had invited them to consume. Chloe noticed that Wanda’s kolachkis disappeared quickly.

Steve noticed the same thing. “Busha’s offering seems to be quite a hit.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching you.”

She didn’t like that answer, not one bit. And the intensity of her reaction surprised her. After all, she’d spent years learning to suppress her emotions, to stay calm, to remain invisible and not make waves. So why was it that one sexy Marine seemed to have the power to change all that?

He was invading her turf—the library. One of the few places where she felt at home, where she felt in her element. Surrounded by books and information, all cataloged and shelved in an orderly manner.

“I also thought I could give you a ride back home after this,” Steve added as he reached past her for a cookie.

Chloe badly wanted to refuse. But the person with whom she’d thought she could hitch a ride had actually carpooled with someone else this evening, someone who lived in the opposite direction from Chloe’s house.

Beggars can’t be choosers. How often had Janis told her that? Too often.

Steve polished off his cookie and reached for another. “My grandmother entrusted you to my care tonight. She’d shoot me if I didn’t bring you back and make sure you got home safely.”

So Steve was only doing this to please his grandmother? Somehow that didn’t make her feel much better.

Chloe was glad when a patron interrupted them with a question about the name of a mystery author she couldn’t remember. Helping unite people with books was what Chloe did best.

When the patron walked out with the book she’d wanted, Chloe was sidetracked by Lynn Scott, the children’s librarian. “Who’s the hottie you were talking to earlier?”

“He’s my neighbor’s grandson.”

“You have all the luck. My neighbor’s grandson is a holy terror, aged three.”

“My car broke down so he gave me a lift tonight.”

“Seeing him gave me quite a lift, too,” Lynn noted with a grin. In her mid-thirties with long dark hair she usually wore in a braid, Lynn was one of those people who brightened the world with their presence. She and Chloe had hit it off from day one.

“Don’t let your husband hear you saying that.”

“There’s no harm in just looking,” Lynn noted.

Chloe tried telling herself that as Steve drove her home a short while later. No harm in just looking. The glow of the streetlights passed over his face, creating sharp angles and increasing his good looks.

She shifted her attention to his hands on the steering wheel. His fingers were long and lean. As he tapped out the beat of a Rod Stewart song with his index finger, she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have him tapping out a sensual beat on her body.

He had the radio playing so they didn’t have to talk much. She was glad. Her thoughts were much too messed up for her to make polite conversation.

She wondered what he was thinking. Was he eager to get rid of her? Was he wishing he were someplace else? With someone else?

Why should she care? If she were smart, and she was, she shouldn’t have any interest in Steve’s thoughts. Or his body. Or his lean hands.

She’d never been the sappy sort to get all hot and bothered over a man. Not until she’d met Brad. And that experience should certainly have cured her of any desire to repeat past mistakes.

But there was no ignoring her reaction when Steve had touched her hand earlier.

Chalk it up to hormones, or sexual chemistry, or nerves. Whatever she called it, she was not about to act on it.

Chances were that after tonight, Steve would go out of his way to avoid her. Her plan was working. She should be pleased, not all restless and edgy.

He pulled into the driveway and turned off the car before turning to face her. “So do you want to tell me what you’re up to?”

His question caught her completely off guard. “Wha-at are you talking about?”

“I just have this feeling that you’re up to something.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe not.”

“Thanks for the ride. Good night.” A second later, she’d hopped out of the car and raced into her house.

Steve watched her go, noting her haste. Not the actions of someone with nothing to hide. So what was the little librarian next door really up to?

He found out several hours later while making a midnight raid on the fridge and the leftover roast beef Busha had stored there. As he entered the dark kitchen, he noticed that the kitchen blinds were rolled up. Which allowed him free visual access to Chloe’s kitchen window, only a few feet away, also with the blinds rolled up. Unlike him, she’d turned on the lights as she looked in her fridge, on the other side of her kitchen.

“Well, I’ll be….” Steve swore under his breath.

The dowdy librarian had been transformed into a sexy woman, wearing a Bears’ jersey that went mid-thigh, allowing him a generous view of a pair of gorgeous legs.

He’d been had!