Free Next to Die by Marliss Melton Page B

quietly behind her.
    Joe glowered, cursing his luck. Of all the therapists in the Navy, his had to be his next-door-neighbor. The corpsman burst into the room with his arms full of steaming packs but drew up warily. “Sir,” he hedged. “Can I get you to lie on your stomach?”
    Joe was left alone, weighted down by lovely warm, moist packs that put him instantly to sleep. He was jarred awake by Penny’s entrance. She wordlessly removed the heat packs and wheeled the ultrasound machine closer. To Joe’s consternation, she rolled the elastic of his boxer-briefs down past his butt crack, then squirted warm gel all over his back.
    She had to be humiliating him on purpose.
    The machine buzzed and crackled as she sent healing sound waves deep into his tender muscles. She didn’t speak but worked the handheld device in a circular motion over his back. Remembering the threats he’d practically hurled at her, Joe wrestled with his conscience. Maybe she’d done all the right things because it was her nature to be helpful. In that case, he’d stepped over the line by threatening her. But he had to be sure first. “Lieutenant,” he interjected, making her pause.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “How much did I tell you the other night?” He had to know.
    She moved the device again, in a slow, circular motion. “You said that you were hit with shrapnel,” she replied, her tone sympathetic. “One of your men died, presumably in the same incident. At first I thought it was a car accident, but given the fall you don’t remember, I would also have to consider a helicopter crash.” She waited for him to deny or confirm her guess.
    He did neither. Her assumptions were amazingly astute. He needed to tread with caution, or she’d come up with the truth on her own, if she hadn’t already.
    “What I do is classified,” he said, guarding his secret.
    He thought that would be the end of it, but then she added, “The only recent downing that I’ve heard of didn’t have any survivors, though,” she added. “A helo was blown up while rescuing four SEALs on the ground. Three of them died and only one came back alive.”
    He tried not to tense, but every muscle in his body flinched.
    “You knew those men,” she guessed, her tone filled with compassion.
    He stayed quiet. To his relief, she didn’t press him for an answer.
    Instead, she turned off the machine, mounted a stool for some much needed height, and commenced with the soft-tissue massage, her hands cool and remarkably efficient.
    He didn’t want to enjoy her touch, but he did. The pressure she placed on his tender muscles was exquisite.
    Aw, man.
He’d gladly put up with her nosy questions if he got a massage like this every time.
Oh, yeah, right there. Ahhh.
    And yet, for some reason, her touch stirred memories he wanted to forget.
    He remembered plummeting backward, falling slow-motion through space while the fireball of helicopter chased him. The torso of one of his comrades issued from the explosion—no legs, just the trunk and head.
    Joe silently cursed, wishing the vision had stayed where it was, repressed in his subconscious mind.
    But Penny had brought up the crash. She’d brought it right into this room.
    He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she removed her hand and wiped his back with warmed wet wipes. “How do you feel?” she asked, dusting his back with powder, massaging it in, quickly and lightly.
    He shivered at the pleasant, almost sensual caress. “Good,” he admitted. “Relaxed.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. I want you to use a cool pack every night, when you’re watching television or as you go to sleep.”
    He was wriggling in an attempt to unfurl the elastic of his boxer-briefs.
    “Do you need help turning over?” she asked.
    “No, I got it.” The last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself by revealing a semi-aroused state. It wasn’t his fault that a woman’s hands on his body did that to him.
    Using the gown as a