Free Broken Moon by Catherine Vale Page B

afternoon. “Damn,” he muttered. “Still got
a hell of a lot of hours between now and bedtime,” he said.
                Lancaster
looked up. “There’s plenty of card and board games stashed in the living room,”
he said. “And video games too, if you’re into that kind of thing. Maybe you can
rustle up your lady friend for a game or two. I saw her go into the bedroom.”
                Harley
glanced at the television screen again. Two of the screen views were dedicated
to the bedroom – one trained on the window, and the other one trained on
the door from the hallway, so he couldn’t actually see her in the room.
                Guess
that means you can take her to bed without giving the boys a show.
                His ears
burned at the idea of making love to the Commander’s daughter, just moments
after getting an earful from him about how precious his daughter was to him
over the phone. But, he did want to spend time with Jocelyne right now, and if
she was in the bedroom, that’s where he was going to go.
                “I
think I’ll do that,” he told Lancaster. “Thanks.”
                He
headed for the bedroom down the hall, wondering just how he would find Jocelyne
when he opened the door.
    * * *
               
    The bedroom door swung open just as Jocelyne
was about to pierce herself with the needle, and she squeaked, dropping the
tiny implement on the bedcovers. “Oh!” she exclaimed when Harley stepped in.
“It’s just you.” She scrambled for the needle, which was rolling toward the edge
of the bed, and snatched it just before it fell. “Gotcha!”
                Harley’s
bemused eyes scanned the first aid kit supplies she had spread out on the bed,
which included a bottle of peroxide, cotton balls, and bandages. “Do I want to
know what this is about?”
                Jocelyne
crossed her legs and propped her right foot against her knee, angling it so
that she could see the huge blister that had formed on the ball of her foot.
“Just trying to pop these suckers.” She picked up the needle and prepared to
stab the thing.
                “Here,
let me do it.” The bed creaked beneath Harley’s weight as he settled onto it.
He gently plucked the needle from her fingers, then grasped her ankle and
pulled it into his lap.
                “Hey!”
she protested as he popped the first one. He quickly grabbed a cotton pad and
mopped up the liquid that trickled down her foot, then swabbed the area with
peroxide and bandaged it.
                He
laughed. “What, you really want to sit there and do it yourself when I can see
better than you?”
                “I
guess not,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back against the
headboard. She watched Harley pop and dress three more blisters, and then move
to the other foot. “You’re pretty efficient.”
                “Yeah,
well I’ve had my fair share of blisters too,” he said, his head ducked down so
that his dark, wavy hair obscured his features. He finished bandaging the other
foot, then looked up at her through his bangs as he started to massage her
foot. “How does that feel?”
                “Like
bliss,” she groaned, leaning her head back. She let him work his magic, his
strong, sure fingers finding every single sore spot in her foot and rubbing it
away. “God, you’re really good at this.”
                Harley
gave her a lopsided grin. “I’ve had sore feet enough times in my life to know
where the trouble spots usually are,” he told her before switching to the other
foot.
                “I’ll
bet,” she said, thinking of his time in the army, and then didn’t speak for a
while as she endured the pleasure-pain of Harley’s amazing foot massage. When
she could find her breath again, she asked, “When did you join the