Craving Her Soldier's Touch. Wendy S. Marcus

we or were we not referred to as Ice melt?” she yelled. “That’s your nickname, isn’t it? Ice?”

      Ian parked the car in Jaci’s spot, turned off the engine, and shifted to face her. “I didn’t tell anyone you, Jena and I had sex together.” He ran a hand over his face. Disgusted. “Guys are pigs. Get a bunch of them together on a military base, add in a picture of two, identical, hot, almost naked women, and it was the twin fantasy run amok.”

      Apparently he was going about this explanation thing all wrong because Jaci thrust open her car door and jumped out like the interior of the vehicle had caught fire.

      “Wait,” he called out, rushing through the rain, his left leg stiff, slowing him down. “I didn’t say it was my fantasy.” Well. Okay. To be perfectly honest the thought had crossed his mind—briefly—when they’d first met. But since honesty didn’t seem to be working out so well for him at the moment, he decided to keep that bit of truth to himself.

      Bottom line, a few days in Jaci’s company and he’d had no desire to share their limited time together with anyone else. Male or female.

      He caught up to her as she was scanning her key card in front of the security sensor. With a buzz the door unlocked and Ian opened it. In the vestibule he pushed on the inner glass door to stop her from entering the lobby. She wouldn’t look at him.

      “In all the years my squad has known me, I have never once tacked up a picture on my locker,” he explained to the back of her head. Or gotten caught staring at one like some homesick teenager, unprepared for how much he’d miss her or how the idea of having a beautiful wife to return home to would start to appeal to him. “They made a big deal of it and things got way out of hand. You have to know I would never disrespect you by discussing anything that went on in private between us. And I would never disparage your or your sister’s reputation by spreading lies. I had no idea the rumors made their way back to the U.S. until I returned home and Justin told me.”

      “My face is in the newspaper at least twice a month. You didn’t consider the possibility someone might recognize me?”

      No. He hadn’t. “It’s a different world over there. I’ll talk to your brother.” Had already left four messages at his office requesting an appointment. “I’ll make a statement to the press.”

      Jaci looked at him like he’d offered to don a pink tutu and tights. “Don’t you dare. All that will do is stir the whole thing up again and bring out the whack-a-dos who corroborated the stories and made up lies about Jena and me dating back to junior high school. Now if you don’t mind, I’m wet and tired and would like to slip into a hot bath and put this night behind me.”

      At the thought of a naked Jaci, her slick body surrounded by bubbles, submerged in a candlelit tub, Ian felt the twinges of life return to Ian junior.

      Ah, yes. Half an hour in Jaci’s presence provided Ian with glimpses of the man he’d been before the explosion, a man capable of feeling more than the anguish of regret, guilt, and loss, something weeks of therapy hadn’t been able to do. He opened the door and followed her through.

      In the elevator she pressed the buttons for the fourth and fifth floors. He broke the uncomfortable silence by offering his most sincere apology, “I’m sorry.” Because he was.

      She let out a breath and looked down at her black rain boots. “I’m glad you made it home safely.” The doors opened on the fourth floor. She took a step forward, and, standing between them she looked back at him and said, “But what’s done is done. It’s over. Leave it alone.”

      He exited the elevator and followed her. God help him, he didn’t want it to be over. Which was why night after night he’d fought the urge to bang on her door, to explain why he’d run, to apologize for what he’d said, and beg her forgiveness.

      But to what end?

      He trailed behind her.

      No matter how much he may have wanted to explore the possibility of a future with Jaci, the bomb blast that’d killed his men obliterated all possibility of a happily ever after for Ian. She’d never understand or accept what he had to do. What woman would? And the last thing he needed was one more person preaching to him about survivor guilt and overreaction due to grief and mourning. Few people understood the bonds formed in battle when soldiers entrusted their lives to the members of their team. The vow—spoken or unspoken—to look after a brother’s family should he be unable to do it himself. There was nothing Ian wouldn’t do for his men—overseas or stateside. And nothing they wouldn’t do for him.

      If they were still alive.

      But they weren’t. So it fell to Ian, the last man standing, to look after their wives and children, so they weren’t left to struggle like Ian, his mother and sisters had after his father’s death. To preserve their memory, honor their dedication to their country, and make sure no one tried to suppress, diminish or taint either out of anger, resentment or feelings of abandonment, like his mother had.

      Their children would grow up with a man around. Ian. Not their fathers, but the next best thing. Their children would grow up knowing their fathers loved them and fought to make the future safer. For them. Their children would be allowed to remain children because Ian would do his best to fill the role of man-around-the-house.

      For four households.

      His life was no longer his own and the stress of the responsibility he’d taken on and the promises he’d made weighed heavily on his already overburdened psyche.

      He’d reached his limit, could not deal with one more woman, one more responsibility in his life. And yet, seeing Jaci again, feeling her, remembering carefree times, Ian couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, of returning to his condo. Alone. To the nightmares that awaited him whenever he closed his eyes. To the anxiety and tension and overall feeling of instability that plagued him since his return.

      She stopped at her door.

      His heart pounded. His chest grew tight. Sweat pooled in his armpits.

      “Please,” he said. God help him he was begging her to let him stay in her presence, to keep him from retreating into the dark, torturous depths of his mind.

      She took out her key. “You are not coming in.”

      Desperation gripped him. Panic.

      She unlocked the door and opened it.

      A baby cried out from inside, clearing his head instantly.

      Ian stood in shock unable to move.

      Jaci had a baby? No way she’d been pregnant before they’d slept together. He’d monopolized every moment of her spare time for the four months beforehand. Could she have fallen into another man’s arms so soon after his deployment? Maybe. But not likely. Jaci teased and flirted. A lot. But she was very selective about who shared her bed, at least according to Justin who’d known her since high school.

      It was one of the reasons their night together meant so much.

      Which had to mean the baby was his.

      Taking advantage of his stupor, she escaped inside, closing the door behind her.

      Ian leaned up against the wall, his mouth suddenly dry, swallowing difficult. He was a man teetering on the edge of sanity, a man with no viable means to support himself, or replenish the savings he’d already spent to fulfill his commitment to his fallen brothers.

      And now he was a father, responsible for a tiny, defenseless baby, in addition to everything else.

      A baby no one had bothered to tell him about.

      Justin was a dead man.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “YOU’RE here! Three days early.” Jaci’s conflicting emotions over seeing Ian vanished, replaced by jubilation at the return of her sister. She tossed her bag on the kitchen counter, yanked off her raincoat, and toed off her boots.