Free Between Duty and Desire by Leanne Banks

Not with this woman.
     

    “I’m never drinking tequila again,” Callie said as she opened her door to him the next morning. With her hair sticking out in no less than ten directions, she put her hands on either side of her face and shook her head. She wore a little robe and Brock suspected she was naked beneath it. The knowledge cranked up his body temperature.
    “You didn’t warn me that I would feel like my body had been slammed the next morning.”
    “I encouraged you to stop, but you wanted to continue,” he pointed out, following her inside. “Are you ready for your run?”
    She looked at him in disbelief. “What are you? The Terminator or something? Are you sure you aren’t hiding steel underneath that skin?” Callie asked, poking at one of Brock’s biceps.
    He caught her finger and shook his head. “No steel. Just the regular combination of blood and guts.”
    “No way,” she said. “You’re not regular anything.”
    Her compliment felt like a soft stroke on his skin. He cracked a smile. “It’s my Marine training. C’mon. Let’s go. The fresh air will make you feel better.”
    Callie made a face. “A twelve-hour nap would make me feel better.”
    “Go get dressed,” he told her.
    “We’re not really going to run, are we?”
    “We’ll take it easy,” he promised.
    She made another face. “Your version of easy and my version of easy are very, very different,” she grumbled, but headed toward her bedroom. “Did you know Oscar got into the cake last night?” she yelled from the bedroom.
    “Yeah, his purring was what woke me up.”
    “Who would have thought a cat would like birthday cake?”
    He heard her walk from her bedroom to the bathroom, followed by the sounds of water and a littleshriek. “Oh, my hair! I look like something out of a horror movie.”
    Chuckling at her dismay, he strolled closer to the hallway. “It wasn’t that bad. You just looked like a wannabe rock star.”
    “Cute, very cute,” she retorted and opened the door, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and a scowl on her face. “This is really all your fault. Tequila.”
    He lifted his hands. “I encouraged you to stop.”
    “Hmmph. Okay, Dr. Torture, let’s go.”
    They took a short jog on the beach and slowed to a walk after a short time. Callie wandered closer to the edge of the tide and looked out on the ocean. “I’ll say one thing for how I feel today. I feel so cruddy physically that I can’t focus on whining about Rob.”
    “You don’t whine,” Brock said as he joined her. “At least, not about Rob.”
    Her lips twitched. “You’re so kind.”
    He shrugged. “Your grief is valid.”
    “Yeah, but I’ve made a full-time job of it. He wouldn’t want it that way. Plus, it’s exhausting and unproductive.”
    “So what are you going to do?”
    She met his gaze. “I’m already doing. I’ve allowed myself to get suckered into the Brock Armstrong recovery program, haven’t I?”
    “Kicking and screaming every inch of the way.”
    She studied him. “I just wish you didn’t feel like you had a penance to pay for surviving when Rob didn’t.”
    Her words hit too close and he looked away. “It’s more complicated than that.”
    “Okay. Whatever it is, thanks.”
    “It works both ways. Helping you helps me.”
    “Penance,” she said.
    He shook his head. “I told you it’s more than that. You’ve probably forgotten this, but being with you can be nice.”
    “Oh, yeah, a laugh a minute.”
    An urge to touch her rippled through him like the ocean breeze. He wanted to pull her against him. The strength of the instinct irritated him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
    She touched him lightly on his arm. “It means a lot that I can trust you.”
    Don’t trust me too much, he thought, craving her. His pulse raced at her nearness and he was careful not to move a millimeter. He didn’t want her to pull away. “It works both ways, Callie,” he said in a low