Free A Marine Affair by Heather Long

Chapter One
     
     
    Eli’s gut clenched. Rick stood on the far side of the baggage claim area, just beyond the glass separating customs from the outside world. A tidal wave of humanity flowed ahead of him, eager to stretch its legs after the seventeen-plus hour flight. The passengers greeted their loved ones with enthusiastic hugs or swift handshakes. Beyond the cheerful chaos, Rick waited, the throng parting briefly to reveal him before swallowing him up again.
    Adjusting the grip on his bag, Eli shook his head. The man’s timing continued to suck on an epic scale. Rick McConnell was the last person he wanted to see. Not when Eli, agitated and impatient from the long flight, spoiled for a fight. He cut left, circling the crowd and heading for the exit. He’d take a taxi to his apartment. With five days until he needed to report, he planned to spend all but the last eight hours of it drinking. He’d earned it.
    The doublewide glass doors swung open at his approach and Rick stepped right into his path. Is it possible to be shocked and completely unsurprised at the same time?
    “Rick.” Eli shifted his bag to the other shoulder and held out his right hand. He ignored the familiar zing when Rick clasped it. “Good to see you.” Enveloping the words in a cool impassivity, he focused on a point just to the right of Rick’s gorgeous eyes.
    “You, too. Can I give you a ride?”
    “No.” He shook his head again. “I’ll get a cab. I need to go.”
    Sidestepping the masculine roadblock, he made it to the curb and held up a hand to summon a cab. Rick followed and climbed into the other side of the vehicle.
    Son of a bitch . Quashing the knee jerk reaction, Eli gave the driver his address and leaned back in the seat. Hot on the heels of his irritation with the man’s choice came a grudging admiration for his tactics. Unless he wanted a fistfight, they would share the cab.
    “How was Africa?” Rick made no move to touch him, maintaining the perimeter.
    “Hot.” Uncomfortable. Exhausting. Lonely . Three words Eli promised he would never use out loud.
    “I can imagine. Training camps?”
    “Yep.” He refused to have that conversation with Rick. He looked good. Rested. Tanned. Fit. His assignment to the Medical Center detail must be treating him well. Not that Eli had any intentions of asking him about it.
    Five minutes stretched into fifteen.
    “How long until you have to report for reassignment?”
    “Long enough.”
    He should have rented a car. The cab was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the trucks he’d ridden through half of Africa in, too bad he couldn’t be back there at the moment, sans Rick. Far easier to put his lover out of his mind from eight thousand miles away.
    Refusing to engage seemed to do the trick. Rick finally went quiet. Thirty-five strained minutes later, the cab driver swung into the tree-lined apartment complex where Eli had maintained a residence for nearly a decade. It didn’t matter where his assignments took him or for how many years—he liked his place. He kept his place.
    Fortunately, he had a sister who managed it as a sublet for him after she’d moved out and closer to Washington, D.C.
    Doubly fortunate for him that she’d just given birth to her fourth child and wouldn’t be anywhere near the Capitol. Without a word to Rick, he paid the cab driver and claimed his bag. Undeterred, the naval officer followed. Inside, the quiet rush of familiar surroundings and scents washed over Eli and he couldn’t ignore Rick anymore.
    “What do you want, Rick?” He tossed his bag down and headed into the kitchen. A phone call three days before to a housekeeping service he employed while stateside had delivered groceries—including a case of beer. He didn’t offer Rick a bottle—he didn’t plan for him to stay.
    “We need to have a conversation.”
    Tossing the bottle cap into the trash, Eli snorted. “No. We don’t.”
    “Yeah, we do. Like finishing a conversation you walked