Try Me (2 page)

She fidgeted at the gearshift. “What’s your MOS?”

“Since when do you know military lingo?” he countered. “I’m a mortar man.”

“Oh.” Her brows wrinkled. “So you get shot at. You’re not on a ship somewhere, or safe at the base.”

“’Safe’ is relative in Afghanistan. But yeah, I get shot at.”

Her knuckles went white against the gearshift. Her motions were tense when she changed gear. “Oh,” she said again.

“Don’t worry. I’m too ornery for anyone to hit me.”

Her lips quirked and she glanced at him. “Someone hit you pretty hard last night.”

“Funny. You know what I meant.” He snapped a mock salute. “Sergeant Jeremy Addison, at your service. Too proud and determined to get shot.”

She laughed. “You mean too stubborn and bullheaded.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

She chuckled and fell silent. Jeremy turned his attention out the window. Before long they passed the first straggling outskirts of civilization, which quickly blended into lushly groomed lawns and houses that seemed to get larger with every block. Posh. Luxurious. Somewhere he didn’t belong. He’d never have a house like these, or a wife like Erica. Both were as far out of his reach as the stars, and just as untouchable.

“Where are you staying?” She nibbled at her lower lip. “I can take you back, or to my place. It’s only five minutes away.”

Of course it was.

“Depends. I am still in Vegas, right? A little fuzzy on that detail.”

Her lips compressed. Past her sunglasses, he caught one sharp brown eye watching him. “Still in Vegas. You didn’t walk that far in your drunken stupor.”

“I’ve done worse.”

No, he hadn’t. But a perverse and hurting part of him wanted to disappoint her. If she was going to look at him like that, she might as well have good reason to.

“Besides,” he said. “Last I heard, you were in California.”

“It’s been seven years. I moved. How did you know I was in California?”

Great. Now you think I’m a creepy stalker.
“Old classmates,” he fumbled. He drained the water a little too fast; the sudden cold rush left him dizzy, and he gasped and dropped the empty bottle into the cup holder. “So. Yeah. Could we hit your place? I could use a shower sooner rather than later.”

“Sure.” Her hands tightened against the steering wheel, and she fidgeted in her seat. “So. Besides getting drunk, beaten up, and left for dead…how’s life?”

He laughed, harsh and humorless. “When you put it that way, pretty shitty. But otherwise, not bad. Enjoying being back in the States.”

She flashed him a small smile. The dimple in her right cheek made him want to kiss it. She only had the one, but he loved it. “Maybe things will get better after last night.”

“They can’t possibly get any worse.” He idly toyed with his dog tags. “Sorry you had to find me like that.”

“It’s okay.” She patted his knee. His thigh tensed. “I’m glad I did. Who knows how much longer you’d have lasted? You looked like death. You’re lucky it’s only April. In July, you’d be dead.”

“Instead of just a little dry and crispy?”

“Thanks. Now I want fried chicken.”

It was on his lips to offer to take her to dinner. Maybe sate a few more cravings than food. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Uh. How’s Tommy?”

“He’s good.” She paused, then swallowed. “Divorced.”

“About damned time,” Jeremy snarled, then took another breath. And another. And another, until the heated wash of anger began to cool. That lying whore had destroyed the only friendship that had ever mattered to Jeremy—and had been destroying Tommy for far longer than that. Erica’s brother deserved better, but he hadn’t wanted to listen when Jeremy said so. And then when Nicole had…

He forced the thought away. No point in reliving the past. Especially not when he could feel Erica watching him, after his little outburst.

“He tried to find you,” she said. “Once he came to his senses. When he realized Nicole was lying, he wanted to apologize. You really didn’t sleep with her, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t. She wasn’t my type.”
You are.
“And I wouldn’t do that. Not to Tommy. Not to anyone.”

“Ah,” she said softly. “So it was just a game, to her.”

“Something like that.” Jeremy turned his glare out the window, rather than on her. Looking at her did nothing for his peace of mind. “I told both of you I didn’t do it. I don’t lie. I hated Nicole. And you of all people—”

—should know who I loved.

He shut his mouth. That night loomed between them, large and stifling. He’d poured his heart out into her hands, and she’d thrown it away.

“Jeremy, I’m sorry.” This time the steering wheel squeaked under her tightening grip. She pried one hand away and ran it back through her hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—”

“Can we not talk about this?” He folded his arms uncomfortably over his chest. “It’s been seven years. We’ve both moved on.”

“Of course,” she bit off with a jerky nod. “So are you…married? Kids?”

Married? Him? Yeah, right. As if he’d ever find someone who could even compare to her memory.

Not that he’d ever tell her that again.

“I’m not the marrying type,” he said with a chuckle that left his mouth tasting bitter. Especially when a horrible thought struck him. “Are you?”

“No.” Her voice went flat. “I was engaged once. I’m not anymore.”

Everything in her tone warned him not to ask. Not to push. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Maybe the right guy will come along soon.”

Again that flicker of brown, just past the sunglasses. He thought he saw…he didn’t know what he saw. It was there, then gone again. Something like yearning. Wistful. Sad. He knew the feeling. And he was probably projecting his feelings onto her, just like every other idiot man who didn’t know when to let go.

“Maybe,” she said. Her voice broke, then steadied again. “Maybe not. I’m not really focused on that right now. Hard to get married when you don’t even have a boyfriend.”

So she was single. Hope flared, then died. It didn’t matter. She wanted someone. He could tell that. She was so miserable her every word made him ache. But
lonely
didn’t mean
desperate enough to want Jeremy.

“I have a hard time believing you can’t find a date,” he said.

She darted another glance at him and worried at her lower lip again. She always did that when she was nervous. “You’d be surprised.”

“Maybe you were looking in all the wrong places.”

She said nothing, and he cursed himself for a fool.

He clenched his jaw and studied his hands. They were covered in dirt and blood. His knuckles were split. They hadn’t been during the first fight. Apparently he’d fought back when he’d been left in the desert to die. Good. He was a Marine, and Marines always fought back. Fought for what they believed in. Fought for what was theirs.

He glanced at Erica from the corner of his eye.
Like I’d fight for you.

The car slowed and turned. Jeremy dragged his gaze from her and onto the curving drive leading up to a massive house. It was elegant, perfect, a terraced adobe affair with open construction and arched doorways. Stylish. Tasteful. Entirely out of his league. Big surprise.

“Nice place,” he murmured. “I guess being a lawyer is paying off.”

She tugged off her sunglasses and dropped them into the second cup holder. “Did old classmates tell you I’m a lawyer, too?”

“Uh.” Shit. So much for detachment. “I. Uh. I saw it somewhere. I forgot where.”

“Right.” She raised a brow. Her lips twitched at the corners. “Well, come on inside.”

She slid from the car with grace and poise. Jeremy, not so much—but he managed to get out under his own power, which was more than he’d been able to manage before the water. He was walking like a ninety-year-old man, but he was walking.

She closed the car door and looked at him. He straightened his shoulders.

“I’m okay. I feel better already.” He grinned—and immediately regretted it when his split lower lip stung. He felt something wet and warm trickle down his chin. Genius.

She winced. “I’ll believe that when you aren’t bleeding.”

She led him up the walk and inside. The carved, heavy oak door opened on hardwood floors. A crystal chandelier hung from the arched ceiling of the broad foyer. Expensive paintings lined the walls. Jeremy kept far away from them. He didn’t want to risk touching anything, and dirtying or damaging it irreparably. It was bad enough he was tracking sand into the polish on her floors.

He smoothed his shirt and tried to straighten it, then rubbed at a stain on his sleeve. Useless. If this were a restaurant, he’d be out on his ass. “Maybe I should go to my hotel after all. I’m going to leave dirt all over your house.”

“Please. I don’t care about that.

She rested one soft hand on his chest. Her touch tore through him like a gunshot and radiated all over his body. He swallowed.

“If you say so.”

She looked up at him. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. It was what made her such a good lawyer, he thought, and what drove him mad. She could be on the verge of tears, and she’d never show it. He should be grateful, he thought. At least when she’d rejected him, she’d suppressed her disgust.

She abruptly drew back, dropped her gaze, and tossed her purse on a table just past the door. “Come on up. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

“Shit. I don’t have any clothes. I’m a dumbass. Maybe we should head back to—”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to run away.” She sighed. “I have some of Tommy’s clothes here. Stop worrying, okay? You always did worry too much.”

She turned and walked toward the curving stairs, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Jeremy followed, but stopped at the foot of the stairs, curling his hand against the cool wrought-iron railing. He shouldn’t wear Tommy’s clothing. They weren’t friends anymore. Not after Tommy had believed Nicole’s lies about Jeremy seducing her. Not after Tommy had kicked his ass and spat on a bond that, to Jeremy, had been like family.

The only real family he’d ever had, and the only reason he’d let Tommy beat him bloody without ever once fighting back. Nothing could have hurt worse than what he’d lost that night.

He swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“He really won’t mind.”

“But I will.” He found his dog tags and gripped them tight, their pressure a familiar comfort against his palm. “He took her word over mine. He should have known better.”

She stiffened. “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting you into a shower and clean clothes. Nothing else. So suck it up.”

“Suck it up?” He mounted the stairs until he stood at her side, looking down at her. “Did you really just tell me to suck it up?”

Her eyes narrowed. She tossed her head and lifted her chin. “Yes. I did.”

“You realize I’m a Marine, right?”

“Like that means anything? You’d never hurt me. I know that. I know you.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes met his without wavering. “Better than you think. Even if I’ve tried to forget.”

He stepped closer. Close enough to touch her, close enough to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she clung to him. Everything he’d dreamed of doing for years, and more. Everything her body heat begged him to do, teasing him with her nearness.

“Why do you want to forget me, Erica?”

She bit her lip. That luscious lower lip, that one little tic that gave her away like a poker player’s tell no matter how steady her voice might be. “You don’t get to ask me that, Jeremy.” She turned away, her back stiff. “Come on. The bathroom’s this way.”

She took the stairs quickly, her heels a sharp and almost accusatory staccato. With a sigh, Jeremy followed. Him and his big mouth.

Fucking
idiot
.

She shook her head and yanked the closet door open. She hadn’t brought him here for…
that
. Or for any reason other than to help him. What were the odds that she’d be the one to find him on the side of the road?

Was it fate, giving her a second chance?

No. That was silly. Impractical. Sighing, she grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, then headed back out into the hallway. He could go commando or wear his sweaty skivvies. She wasn’t digging into her brother’s underwear. The bratty little sister under the cultured woman she’d become still insisted Tommy’s boxers had cooties.

And she didn’t want to think of Jeremy in the same light as her brother.

Calm. Breathe. She closed her eyes and leaned against the bathroom door. Jeremy had brought back too many memories. Most of them sweet, but some of them just as bitter. She’d always had a thing for the dorky boy Tommy had dragged home from school one day. The way he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners, the easy way he moved…he could make her forget how to breathe, even back then. She’d hid it as best she could. She’d been the annoying little sister; the tagalong. Unwanted. Annoying.

Or so she’d thought, until that night.

She refused to replay it. Not again. Not for the millionth time. That was a long time ago. Things were different, and they’d moved on. He’d said so. She wasn’t about to embarrass herself by telling him that he was the only one who’d really moved on.

She straightened, knocked on the door, and waited. She could hear water running, but no response. She cracked the door open. “Jeremy?”