Night After Night...

An expression flashed across her face that he couldn’t read. Humor? Regret? Annoyance? He really had no idea and the second it registered, it disappeared. Then it occurred to him that she might not have any pills. It probably wasn’t the lifesaving staple that it was for marines.

“You know, I have a whole bottle—”

“I got some. Don’t worry. I’ll medicate.”

And then they both just stood there, her with her back to her door, him leaning over her about half a breath away from kissing her.

“You were right,” he said abruptly.

She blinked. “About what?”

“Earlier. When you said I was mad about something. About how my body has betrayed me somehow.” He slumped against the wall, knowing he needed to confess this now or he’d never get it out. “I was in a jeep and we drove over an IED.”

She gasped. “An IED like a bomb IED?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We were lucky that it was really badly made. Five of us, and we all got out alive.”

He saw the shudder run through her whole body, and remembered why he didn’t talk about these things with civilians. It was horrible, but it was also something marines learned to deal with from day one. They could get blown up any minute. If you were lucky, you survived. Nobody liked it, but you either dealt with it or went nuts.

“I’m fine, obviously. Weak, out of shape, but coming back.”

“You’re not weak, Jason. You’re a moron if you think you’re weak.”

He dipped his chin. “Okay, I’m weaker than I used to be. But like I said, my strength’s coming back. But there’s a different problem.”

She watched him closely, clearly waiting for him to continue without pushing him to speak before he was ready. It took him a breath, but he got there.

“I’ve got amnesia. I can’t remember stuff before or after getting blown up.”

“I’d think that was normal. And that you probably won’t get everything back.”

He nodded. “That’s what the docs say.”

He’d gone over it a thousand times in his head. The mission had been to find a biological weapons factory. They knew it was somewhere in the Philippines. That’s it. Somewhere in a whole freaking country. But using logic—and a lot of footwork—they’d found it. Or rather, Jason had found it. He’d figured out where the thing was right before getting blown up by the IED. And now he couldn’t remember where it was.

His unit continued on, doing what they’d been doing. Logic, intel, on-foot searching, the whole nine yards, but they weren’t getting anywhere. Jason could fix it all. He had the answer. It was just locked up tight in his brain, hanging there behind a big wall of nothing. He couldn’t even begin to express how frustrated and angry that made him.

Meanwhile Christy touched his chest. She put her fingers right on his sternum, and it was like getting touched by a branding iron. He felt every one of her fingertips. Not painfully hot, but just there. Like he would remember her fingers on his chest until the day he died.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked gently.

“There’s something important that I have to remember. That’s the one thing I do remember—telling my best friend that I knew where it was. See, our mission was to find something. And Danny said I’d just figured it out when it happened.”

“When you drove over the IED?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed and looked down at the floor wishing for the zillionth time that he could break through the damn wall in his brain. “I knew something. I knew where it was. I’m sure of it.”

“But you can’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“So you’re pissed.”

“Yeah.” She’d summed it up perfectly. He was angry about getting blown up. Angry that he couldn’t remember. Angry that it was right there, but he couldn’t grab hold of it. “My guys are still searching. They’re still risking their lives because I can’t think of where the damn thing is. And I’m … here.”

“Healing,” she said firmly. “You’re here healing. You have to do that before you can remember.”

He banged his head against the wall, then stopped when he saw her wince. “I know,” he said, forcing himself to keep his tone level. “I know, but I’m impatient.”

“There’s a shocker … not.”

He smiled at her wry tone. “The thing is,” he said slowly, without looking at her, “I’m messed up right now. I’m angry and frustrated and in therapy, which really is no fun at all.” He heard her chuckle at that but didn’t move. “And the minute I do remember, I’m out of here. I’m going to have to go back to my unit and help them. That’s my job.”

“Okay,” she said. “Why are you telling me this?”

He opened his eyes and went for brutal honesty. “Because I want to kiss you right now, but I can’t. First off, I’m not me. Not the normal me.”

“You’re changing. That’s not abnormal, it’s just different.”

“Different is still not the time to start things with a girl.”

She grimaced, but he didn’t let her comment.

“And besides,” he rushed on, “I’m leaving at any time. The second I remember, I’m gone. No warning, no nothing. I’ll just be gone.”

“I grew up on base. I know about here today and gone tomorrow.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. God, she was so pretty. Her eyes were huge, her skin soft, and her lips were right there. What he wouldn’t give to sink right into them. Into her.

“I’m not going to do that to you. Or to me. I don’t want to be thinking about you when I should be focused on my men. On whatever it is I need to remember—”

“I get it.” She’d interrupted him, her voice low, but she repeated it louder when he stopped talking. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I’ve learned that when a marine gets stubborn, there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.”

He frowned, startled by a sudden surge of jealousy. “You spend much time with marines?”

She laughed, the sound light, and it warmed him despite the fact that he was putting the brakes on their relationship. “Let’s just say that in some ways, there’s little difference between a stubborn marine, a stubborn air force officer and a stubborn six-year-old. You’re not going to listen to me. All I can hope is that you’ll catch a clue and come knocking on my door sometime soon.” Then her eyes met his. “No strings attached.”

His breath caught. She was offering him a fling. A no-strings-attached hot—

She kissed him. She had to go up on her toes to do it, but one second she was looking at him and the next her mouth was pressed up to his. And she was doing something with her tongue that shorted out his brain.

A split second later, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her tight. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he went straight in. He heard a soft sound, a womanly sound that was half delight, half surrender, and his blood fired hot. He pressed her against her door and owned her mouth like he was staking a claim.

It went on for much too long. Or not long enough. He adored the feel of her, soft in the right places and solid in the rest. She kissed like a dream, and he was finally skimming his hands underneath her shirt when a noise in the hallway alerted him.

It was nothing really. Some kids were playing outside. One of them laughed, loud and raucous. But he was a marine and trained to pay attention to outside noises. To realize that he was about to strip her naked in a public hallway. And to know that this was a bad idea even though every cell in his body was pushing him to take the two steps into her bedroom and do what they both wanted.

So he broke the kiss, dropped his forehead against hers and just breathed. Breathed in, breathed out. And waited for the lust to fade.