At Her Service: His Baby! / Major Attraction

Lifting the latch on the gate in the pale yellow picket fence, he pushed it open, smiling again at the familiar creak. He slid a quick glance at the driveway, noting the navy-blue Explorer. Did she have visitors, or had she bought a new car while he was gone? Hell. Maybe he shouldn’t have just left a message on her answering machine saying when he was coming over. Maybe he should have actually talked to her. For all he knew, she didn’t have any interest at all in seeing him.

But it was too late now, he thought. If she was busy, he’d leave. And as he recalled, she didn’t have any trouble speaking her mind, so if she didn’t want to see him, she’d say so. But he’d waited too long to head back to the hotel now without even a glimpse of her. And if her visitor was a new boyfriend? Hell. He’d face that bridge if he came to it.

Decision made, he moved up the walk, took the two short steps to the porch and reached for the dragon’s-head knocker on the heavy oak door. Lifting it, he smacked it twice on the pewter plate, then stood back smiling and waited.

When the door opened, his grin faded. He’d been expecting—hoping—to see a short redhead smiling up at him.

Instead, a Marine with dark brown hair and narrowed green eyes glared at him. “You Jeff Hunter?” he asked.

Instinctively, Jeff went on full alert. His own gaze narrowed in return. Okay, so this little reunion wasn’t starting out just the way he’d planned. He tried to see past the man into the house, but he was taking up the whole damn doorway.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The Marine stiffened. “I’m asking the questions here. You Jeff Hunter?”

“Yeah,” he said, “what’s th—?”

The big man moved so fast, Jeff didn’t have a chance to react. Before he could get out of the way, a fist plowed into his face, snapping his head back and filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood. Pain exploded inside his head and his ears rang with it.

Damn, it had been years since he’d been blindsided like that. And generally, when he was punched, he had some idea why.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you,” the guy said, and stepped out of the house, swinging that ham-like fist again. This time, though, Jeff was braced and ready. Head still pounding, he ducked under the blow and came up fighting.

His fist slammed into the other man’s belly. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded even as he threw another punch after the first.

No answer. Just a forearm around Jeff’s neck and a quick, flying trip to the tidy front lawn.

He rolled and came up on the balls of his feet, crouched and prepared for attack or defense. This was what he’d been trained for, after all. But he usually liked to know just who the hell he was fighting.

And somehow, it didn’t sit right, pounding on a fellow Marine. But he didn’t have much choice when the other man charged him, head down and bellowing like a bull. He got in a good shot and Jeff hit the ground. “That’s it. Marine or not, you’re goin’ down,” he promised as he jumped to his feet.

Their bodies crashed together with a thud, and as a series of punches landed on his jaw, stomach and chin, Jeff sucked in the pain, buried it as he’d been taught and gave more than he took. He swung a hardened fist at the big man’s face and felt the sting of satisfaction ripple up his arm when it smacked the guy’s head back.

“Had enough?”

“Not nearly,” the other man answered.

Absently, Jeff noted the sound of birds and the far-off roar of a lawn mower. Unreal, he thought. This shouldn’t be happening. He hadn’t come here as a warrior, but as a lover.

“Who are you and where’s Kelly?”

“Kelly’s none of your business.”

“I say she is,” Jeff snapped, and threw a short, sharp jab at the man’s chin.

“You’re wrong,” the man shouted, and landed a good shot to Jeff’s jaw.

They circled each other warily and when he saw an opening, Jeff made a move to end this little battle. He threw a flying tackle his old high-school football coach would have been proud of. He took the man down and when he was flat on his back, Jeff grabbed hold of the neck of his uniform blouse, bunched it in his fist and lifted the other one menacingly, just inches from the man’s nose.

“Okay,” he said, dragging air into heaving lungs, “you want to tell me what we’re fighting about?”

“You son of a bitch,” the man muttered. “The fact that you don’t even know is reason enough to keep fighting.” He reached for Jeff’s throat.

“Are you nuts?” A familiar female voice shouted from the porch, cutting the man off mid-speech, and Jeff swung his head around to look at Kelly.

His opponent used the distraction to plant one more solid punch to Jeff’s jaw. Stars flashed in front of his eyes.

“Blast it, Kevin!” she called, racing down off the porch and across the lawn. She stood over them, hands at her hips, glaring at the man on the ground. “Stop hitting him. I warned you … no fighting.”

Jeff wiggled his jaw back and forth a couple of times, ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth checking for loose teeth and, thankfully, found none. Then he turned a feral smile on the man still glaring at him. “I owe you for that one.”

“Anytime,” he countered, breathing hard as Jeff released him.

What the hell was going on around here, anyway? Why was a fellow Marine ready to pound his face in when as far as Jeff knew, they’d never met before?

“I don’t believe this,” Kelly muttered, glancing up and down the street, obviously looking to see if any of her neighbors had witnessed the brawl.

Pain flickered through his body in a series of stings and aches, but despite it all, he felt his blood go thick and hot at the sight of her. Damn, but she looked good, Jeff thought and felt his body stir.

She wore a soft green skirt that fell to her ankles and swirled around her legs in the cool wind. Her long-sleeved yellow blouse clung to her upper body, outlining her small, perfect breasts and made Jeff’s hands itch to touch them. Long auburn curls flew into a wild dance around her head, and her green eyes sparkled with what looked like pure temper. Yep, he thought, wincing with a new twinge of pain. Damn good.

“Hi, Kelly,” he said, and felt the full impact of her fury when she shifted her gaze to him.

“‘Hi Kelly’?” she repeated. “That’s all you have to say? I find you brawling in my front yard with Kevin, and all you say is ‘hi’?”

“Go inside, Kelly,” the other man said. “This is between him and me.”

She kicked him, then winced as her bare toes connected with his hipbone. “For heaven’s sake, Kevin,” she snapped. “Stop acting like the puritan father in an old movie.” “Damn it, Kelly …”

“I told you I wanted to talk to Jeff alone.” “Just who the hell are you, anyway?” Jeff interrupted, glaring at the man he’d just been pounding into the ground.

“Kevin Rogan. I’m Kelly’s brother.” Brother. Well, that was good news, anyway. Sort of. Probably wasn’t the best way to impress a woman you hadn’t seen in a year and a half—beating up on her brother. But on the other hand, at least he wasn’t a boyfriend.

Jeff pushed himself to his feet and waited while Kevin did the same. Tension still rippled in the air between them, and Jeff sensed the other man’s eagerness to continue the fight. Fine with him, he thought, already taking a step toward him. Then, before either of them could start up again, Kelly stepped between them, placing one hand on each of their chests.

“Obviously, an overdose of testosterone. Play nice or leave,” she said, looking from one to the other of them.

“Fine,” Kevin said flatly. “But I’m not leaving.”

“Neither am I,” Jeff told him. “I just got here.” “Yeah,” Kevin said with a derisive snort, “but you’ve been here before, haven’t you?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You bastard, if you’d—” “Kevin …” Kelly interrupted her brother with one word and a long warning look.

Then, turning her back on him, she smiled at Jeff. “It’s good to see you.” Kevin snorted again.

“Got a cold?” Jeff asked, then ignored the man and reached out to touch Kelly’s hair, blowing wild and gorgeous in the breeze. He had to see if it was as soft and silky as he remembered.

It was.

“Good to see you, too,” he said, knowing it for the understatement of the century. It was worth a few bruises and what felt like a cracked rib or two to see her smile. Damn, but he’d missed her.