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Marching Orders

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2018
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Well, with one exception—he was aroused beyond belief.

Not exactly the military bearing he’d hoped to maintain.

“You guys need a few more minutes or what?” he heard Buchanan call out.

Rafe broke away from her as if he’d just been caught doing something wrong. Which, in a way, he had.

Buchanan flexed an eyebrow, but other than that, there was no change in his neutral expression. “Looks like you’re ready to start the honeymoon. Come on. We’ll get you to quarters as fast as we can.”

It hit Rafe then. With all the chaos of the shooting and the name incident, he’d forgotten one important detail.

This was his wedding night.

With the change in plans, it was also a night he could be expected to make love to his bride. There was just one problem with that. He couldn’t. Because Anna didn’t know the truth. And the truth was something he couldn’t tell her.

Because if he did, it could end up costing Anna her life.

Chapter Three

Had she imagined that something was wrong? Had she imagined that jolt?

Maybe.

Anna stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and ran her fingertips over her mouth, remembering the way Rafe had kissed her at the chapel. That certainly seemed, well, normal. And incredible.

Maybe Colonel Shaw was right, and this was just a case of nerves. Wedding jitters combined with that horrible shooting incident. With all that had happened recently, a case of frayed nerves certainly seemed a reasonable response.

She shook her head, embarrassed at the way she’d behaved. Not only had she given Rafe the cold shoulder, she’d actually thought maybe he had been brainwashed. Or worse. It’d even crossed her mind that he was some sort of spy sent to infiltrate the Special Ops Unit at the base.

Talk about jumping to crazy conclusions.

Bolstered by her pep talk, Anna swiped on some transparent lip gloss, ran a hand through her hair and stepped back to give herself one last look in the mirror.

Well. The image she saw wouldn’t have a G-rating, that’s for sure.

The fire-engine-red nightgown covered all three of the important S’s required for a hot honeymoon night. Skimpy. Short. Sexy. Definitely meant to seduce. And that was exactly what she wanted to do. Then, after making wild, passionate love with her husband, maybe they could sit down and just talk. She had so many things to tell him.

“This is what I want,” she reminded herself. “I love Rafe. I really love him.” And she reached for the door.

The sound of his voice stopped her. Anna peered into the room and saw him on the bed with the phone pressed to his ear. His shoes and jacket were off, and he was in his usual lounging repose with his back against the headboard. He had his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a toned, tightly muscled chest sprinkled with dark brown coils of hair.

It was provocative. No doubt about it. Just the sight of him caused the heat to roar through her skimpily clad body. Mercy, she was one lucky woman.

He took a sip of water, set the glass next to his holster on the nightstand and spoke in soft, murmuring tones. She only caught a word here and there. Security. Colonel Shaw.

She started to join him, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn’t the tone of a man who simply wanted to clarify information. He sounded a little angry. Rafe fired off his terse responses in clips, like gunshots. Yes. No way. We’ve been through that.

Anna stepped back into the bathroom and put her ear against the door so she could listen to the rest of the conversation.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, sir,” she heard Rafe say.

She felt the wave of doubt creeping up again, but she refused to let herself jump to conclusions. This probably had something to do with the cancellation of the reception. That’s all. Or maybe something had gone wrong with his plans for their honeymoon.

Rafe continued. “I can’t do that to her.”

Anna froze. Held her breath. And waited.

“This won’t work,” Rafe snapped. “She’s not stupid. If I stay here, she’ll know. I think we need to come up with another plan.”

Oh, God. What plan? Anna squeezed her eyes shut and frantically tried to come up with a reasonable explanation to all of this.

She couldn’t.

No, she wasn’t stupid, and she couldn’t dismiss the gut feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her instincts were screaming for her to listen, and she would. Finally.

So, now what? She could get dressed and try to sneak out of the suite without him noticing. The chances of that were slim to none, and even if she managed it, then what would she do? She could go to Janine’s house, but that would just involve her friend in something potentially dangerous. Besides, it might be Rafe who was in danger.

Anna leaned against the wall. If Rafe was in some kind of trouble, she wanted to know about it. She might even be able to help, but first she had to know the truth.

She tried to steady herself by taking several deep breaths. One way or another she would have to convince him to tell her everything. And maybe it’d be a truth she could handle.

Before she could change her mind, she pulled open the door and stepped into the room.

His gaze snared her right away. “I have to go,” he said into the phone, and then hung up.

He stared at her a moment—the hesitation all over his face—as he got to his feet. Well, maybe it wasn’t hesitation. Anna rethought that theory when Rafe’s eyes skimmed over her. From head to toe. It was a long, smoldering, appreciative look that stole her breath.

Forcing herself to say something, anything, she clutched the sides of her gown. “Do you like it?”

He made a sound, a soft rumble as if clearing his throat, and nodded.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Anna stepped toward him, all the while wondering if this was the biggest, and last, mistake she would ever make.

WELL, HELL.

Now, how the heck was he supposed to handle this? And why hadn’t Buchanan called? He was supposed to come up with some bogus plan to occupy him half the night. It was obvious from the way Anna was dressed that she had an entirely different idea about how to occupy him. An idea that would involve clothing removal and hot, sweaty sex.

“It’s a yes,” he assured his bride after he found his breath. “I definitely like the gown. Red, huh? It’s a good color.”

However, it was the woman inside it that he was really admiring. Rafe was glad he’d already loosened his collar, because just the sight of Anna would have required him to loosen something.

Damn. She was beautiful. Her dark-blond hair tumbled in a sexy heap onto her shoulders. Here was the sparkle he’d seen in the videos. Of course, he likely felt that way because of the barely there, devil-red nightgown that stopped at mid-thigh. High mid-thigh. If she bent just a little in any direction, he’d no doubt learn if her panties matched the color of the gown.

The blood rushed to his head. And other parts of him.

He couldn’t let himself lose control. Nope. She might be his wife, but it was in name only. She certainly wasn’t his for the taking.

Anna strolled toward him, her smile tentative. She was nervous. Rafe understood that feeling completely. He’d faced enemy fire and hadn’t experienced the tangle of raw nerves that he felt right now.
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