The Marine And Me. Cathie Linz
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all right. And looking. Despite the fact that she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have noticed the way tiny laugh lines webbed out from the corners of his green eyes, or the way his light blue T-shirt clung to his wide shoulders, or the way his lower lip was full and surprisingly pleasing to look at. Actually, all of him was extremely pleasing to look at—from the top of his dark, short-cropped hair to the soles of his size-eleven feet.
She knew his shoe size because Wanda had told her, while showing her a photo album filled with pictures of Steve, from a baby crawling around to a young man riding a bicycle.
While Chloe thought that Wanda was a real sweetie, she had no desire to jump into another relationship any time soon. She liked her life the way it was—quiet and secure.
There was nothing quiet about Steve. Even his voice held a powerful resonance, his tone that of someone accustomed to delivering orders and having them instantly obeyed.
“You need to turn right at the next light,” Chloe told him.
“I remember. I used to visit the branch library when I was a kid and would visit Busha.”
“You lived in this neighborhood?”
“We lived all over. We moved around a lot because my father was in the Marines.”
“That didn’t bother you?”
“Moving? No. The military is like a big family. Even though we might be going to a new state for a new billet, people went out of their way to make us feel welcome.”
Chloe wondered what that would be like, to be made to feel welcome. It wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced when she’d been growing up. Not after her parents had died when she was eight.
“How about you?” he asked. “Did you grow up around here?”
“Not in this neighborhood, but in Chicago, yes.”
“What about family?”
“I’m an only child. My parents died when I was young. I’ve got an aunt, but we’re not close.”
The only thing her aunt was close to was her chemistry lab and her experiments. Sometimes Chloe had a hard time believing that the emotionally stunted scientist could be related to Chloe’s warm and loving mother Marie Johnson. Marie had been outgoing and full of life. Her older sister, Janis, had been remote and cold.
Janis. The name had a sharp edge that had suited the woman, whose angular face looked as if all the human kindness had been sucked out of it.
“That’s got to be a rough deal, not having family,” Steve said. “I know mine drive me nuts sometimes, but I can’t imagine my life without them.”
Sometimes Chloe did try and imagine what her life would have been like had her parents lived. But doing so only reopened old wounds. There was little point in doing that. She had to deal with the cards life had handed her.
“We turn left up here. The library is on the corner.”
Steve nodded. “And looks just like it did the last time I was here.”
“There’s parking around the back. If you could just let me off at the staff entrance there, that would be great.” She reached down for two heavy tote bags and then tried to balance the plate of kolachkis.
“Hold on a minute.” Steve reached out to touch her arm, covered by the baggy sweater. “Where’s the fire?”
“What?”
“Let me park and I’ll help you carry that stuff in.”
“There’s no need for that…”
“Sure there is. I’m protecting my Busha’s kolachkis from going splat in the parking lot before anyone can enjoy them.”
He efficiently parked the huge boat of a car, and then came around to open the door for her. Chloe would have opened it herself but she was momentarily distracted by the way he walked—shoulders back, head held high. He radiated a powerful presence merely by putting one foot in front of the other.
“Here, let me take that.” Steve reached out and his fingers brushed against hers as he took the plate of kolachkis.
His touch created lightning, flashing up her arm as heat permeated her entire body. She could feel the magic of it, and it was so powerful that the breath was momentarily snatched from her lungs.
No, no, this wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to be happening!
Unfortunately, telling herself that had absolutely no effect. Sexual awareness still hummed through her. A total zing-zing thing.
As if sensing her thoughts, Steve’s eyes met hers in a searching look. While unable to read his exact thoughts, she saw no mirroring awareness there in his smoky green eyes. And why should she? Unless the man had a nun fetish, there was no way he’d notice her dressed the way she was.
That was the plan. And it was working all too well.
The librarian had great legs. Steve had seen a flash of them as she’d jumped out of his grandmother’s car.
Her creamy calves had risen up from her combat boots, the curve of her knee a real attention grabber.
Or maybe he’d just been imagining things, because as he helped her with the door at the library’s staff entrance, she sure didn’t look like anything other than a…well, a librarian.
“Thanks again.” She set the tote bags on the floor and reached for the kolachkis. “You don’t have to stay. I can probably get someone to give me a ride home.”
Her obvious eagerness to get rid of him perversely made him want to stick around for a while. So instead of leaving, he merely went back outside and walked around to the front of the building and entered it that way.
It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in a public library, but he remembered how he and his twin brother Tom would check out the latest Star Wars paperback and then go home and devour it.
There had been a few changes in the place since then. More computers, more READ posters, more audiobooks.
But his main attention was captured by the sign advertising tonight’s program—a special whodunit mystery night.
“Are you here for the program?” The question came from a guy wearing a silk robe over a pair of dark pants. “I’m playing the role of Lord Grimley and this outfit is supposed to be my smoking jacket. I don’t know who thought of this idea of library staff playing the parts of the characters and having the patrons try and figure out who the murderer is in this drawing-room drama,” he grumbled as he tugged on the sleeve of his robe. “The program’s this way, just follow me.”
The meeting room was already crowded, so Steve took a seat in the back row and studied the flyer that he’d been handed on his way in. Sure enough, Chloe’s name was on it. Chloe Johnson playing the part of Miss Abbington, loyal secretary to Lord Grimley.
Steve didn’t really pay attention to the various clues that were given as the drama began. Instead he remained focused on Chloe. Her shoulders were hunched forward as if she were trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She reminded him of a nervous rabbit as she jabbed her glasses back in place when they slipped down the bridge of her nose.
So what was it about her that intrigued him?
That was the mystery that engrossed him as he sat there watching her.
He knew the exact moment she saw him, because she faltered a moment while delivering the line, “But Lord Grimley was the last one to see George alive.”
Steve was surprised at the glare she shot him a moment later. There had certainly been nothing mousy about that. It had carried the punch of a grenade launcher.
So what was going on here? Because something sure was.
Chloe couldn’t believe Steve had the nerve