The Daddy Salute. Maureen Child

can go forever,” she said.

      “And this one obviously has.” He shook his head, reached past a cluster of greasy wires to the shadowy interior of the engine and pushed and poked around for a minute or two. “Still,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “never let it be said that a marine couldn’t get a machine to run.”

      “Oh, perish the thought,” she muttered. Kathy thought she heard Jack chuckle, but she couldn’t be sure. A moment later, Brian stood up abruptly and almost knocked her over. He reached for her automatically to steady her, and where their hands touched, she felt a blast of white-hot heat that nearly swamped her.

      He let her go instantly and took a step back, as if he’d experienced that strange sensation, too, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. Heck, Kathy knew what she was going to do. Ignore it.

      “Okay,” Brian said, as Jack stood up. “Kathy, get in the driver’s seat, and when I tell you, try to start it.”

      “Fine,” she said, knowing it was pointless to try to reason with a man who was attempting to outsmart a car. Besides, it would get her out of his immediate presence and put a nice, solid car door between them.

      Once she was settled, she pushed the clutch in, grasped the key and waited for the signal. That’s when she heard it—a stream of harsh, guttural sounds pouring out of Brian Haley’s mouth. He shouted, he snarled and he did it all in a language she’d never heard before, though she suspected its origins.

      Then he called out, “Okay, try it now!”

      She did, whispering a little prayer as she turned the key. Instantly good old Charlie fired up, his throaty roar splintering the otherwise quiet of the afternoon.

      Both men strolled up to the driver’s side window, and Kathy turned to look up at them.

      “Outstanding,” Jack said.

      “Consider yourself rescued,” Brian told her.

      Okay, so she hadn’t wanted their help. She hadn’t wanted to be indebted to Sergeant Smile. But it had turned out all right. The least she could do was be gracious. Looking right at him, she squinted into the sunlight and said, “Thanks.”

      One brown eyebrow lifted, and he nodded his head briefly. “You’re welcome.”

      Then, because she couldn’t stand not knowing, she heard herself ask, “Were you speaking in German a minute ago?”

      That grin of his widened, and she had to take a firm grip on her blood pressure.

      Shrugging, he said, “I was stationed in Germany a few years ago. Learned enough curse words to give any German car a taste of home and shock it into doing what it’s supposed to do.”

      “Why am I not surprised?” she wondered aloud.

      “Lady,” Brian said as he leaned one hand on the roof of her car and lowered his head to within inches of hers, “as you get to know me, you’ll find I’m just one surprise after another.”

      Kathy smiled sweetly at him and said, “I don’t like surprises, Sergeant.”

      “Gunnery Sergeant.”

      “Whatever.” Then she shoved the car into first, gunned the motor and took off, letting the gunnery sergeant scramble to find his footing.

      As the VW coughed and snarled its way down the street, Brian shook his head slowly. “That woman is really starting to get to me.”

      “Yeah?” Jack said and slapped him on the back. “From where I’m standing, it looks like Hands-on Haley is striking out.”

      Brian shot him a look and grinned. “Jack, my man, I’m just comin’ up to bat.”

      “Not a chance. That was a clean swing and a miss. I call that strike one.” Laughing, he started back toward the driveway to finish their interrupted basketball game.

      Brian stared in the direction the VW had gone, long after it had disappeared from sight. Strike one, huh? Well, he had two more coming to him. And he’d never been a man to give up easily.

      “Hi, neighbor.”

      Caught. Kathy stopped short at the sound of that deep, rumbling voice. She’d hoped to get into her apartment without seeing him again today. But apparently the man had some sort of radar where women were concerned. She took a long, steadying breath before turning around to face the man standing behind her.

      It didn’t help.

      As always, her pulse skittered and her heart pounded against her rib cage. Her palms went damp and her mouth went dry.

      Brian Haley, six foot two inches of solid muscle and practiced charm stood in the open doorway of his apartment and smiled down at her. And it was truly an amazing smile. Kathy was forced to remind herself, again, that she wasn’t interested.

      Unfortunately, that fact was getting harder and harder to remember.

      “Been shopping?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb and folding his arms across his broad chest, now covered in a red T-shirt emblazoned with the U.S. Marine Corps emblem.

      She flipped her hair back out of her face, forced a smile and said, “Boy, nothing gets past you, does it?” Then she hitched the twin grocery sacks in her arms a bit higher.

      His grin only widened at the sarcasm. Reaching for the bags, he cradled them both in one brawny arm and said, “Marines are trained observers.”

      “Lucky me,” she said, and took a moment to stick her key in the lock and turn it. Then she made a grab for her grocery bags. “Thanks for the help, but I’ll take them from here.”

      “No trouble,” he said, moving out of reach. “Any more downstairs?”

      Stubborn, that’s what he was. Stubborn and gorgeous and, like all good-looking men, programmed to flirt with any female in range. Well, she’d been flirted with before and withstood temptation. With her less-than-stellar track record in the romance department, resistance was the best defense.

      “Your car give you any more trouble?” he asked.

      “Nope,” she said. “Started up every time all afternoon.”

      “Probably needs a tune-up, anyway,” he told her.

      “It just had one, thanks.” She opened the door and walked inside, determined not to stand around in a too-narrow hallway with a man whose touch had the ability to start small electrical fires in her bloodstream.

      Brian followed her in, still carrying the groceries. She’d let him inside, thank him for his help and then send him the heck out of there, fast.

      He set the bags down on the bar counter separating the kitchen from the living room, then turned slowly to admire her place. It looked like her, he told himself. Soft, feminine. White lace curtains at the front windows splintered the afternoon sunshine into frothy patterns that lay across the wood floors in snowflake patterns. Overstuffed chairs and a love seat were pulled up to a round coffee table strewn with books and magazines. Pictures of country lanes and lighthouses dotted the walls, and the faint, sweet scent of lavender flavored the air.

      “It’s nice,” he said after a long moment, and turned to look at her. Her soft brown hair fell straight to her shoulders, then curved under at the ends. A few wispy bangs feathered her forehead and her liquid chocolate eyes looked at him warily. Irritation fluttered through him. He still saw disinterest and a cool distance in her eyes every time she looked at him. After a month of living in such close quarters, you’d think she’d at least let her guard down a little.

      Hell, he was a marine.

      One of the good guys. Though he doubted that meant a thing to her.

      He hid a smile as he realised she was standing in her kitchen, barricaded behind the counter. As far from him as she could possibly get.

      “Thanks,”