Familiar Stranger

Clothes came off, flying in every direction.

Her slacks.

His shorts.

Her bra.

His shirt.

When there was nothing left between them but his promises, he turned her over on her stomach.

Cara shivered as his hands encircled her ankles. After that, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Cara stepped out of the shower to find David waiting on her. She smiled slowly, gazing her fill of his strong, naked body and the look in his eyes.

David returned her grin as he wrapped her in a towel.

“What?” he asked.

“It would have been an absolute tragedy if I’d lived my whole life without experiencing that.”

The corner of his mouth tilted, but not much. “That, as you call it, is one of the most interesting pages of the Kama Sutra.”

“Oh? And here I thought you’d learned that from some Mata Hari type during your world travels.”

“Hell, honey, it wasn’t a James Bond type of life, I can tell you that. I could count the number of women I’ve slept with in the last twenty years on one hand and have fingers left over.”

“Oh, I wasn’t speaking from jealousy,” Cara said. “Quite the reverse. I was going to suggest that if I’m ever with you and you see any of those women again, please introduce me.”

“Why?”

“I want to thank them for whatever they added to your expertise.”

His eyes widened in surprise and then he threw back his head and laughed as he swung her off her feet.

Cara wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning at his delight.

“God, woman, you unman me,” he said, as he set her on her feet.

“Not for too long, I hope. Now let me get dressed. I can’t stay naked all day.”

“Why not?”

Her grin widened. “Because I have things to do.”

He frowned. “What kind of things?”

She shrugged. “Normal, everyday things, like picking up some clothes from the cleaners, buying groceries, washing the car. You know…just stuff.”

David followed her into the bedroom and sat on the bed as she began to dress. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know. Stuff hadn’t been on his agenda since the day he’d left for Vietnam.

“Can I come?”

Cara turned, surprised by the hesitant tone in his voice.

“Of course you can. I expected you to.”

“Is there a dress code for this kind of stuff?”

She started to laugh and then realized he was serious. Her hands fisted as she struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.

“I keep wanting to ask exactly what the hell the United States government did to you in the name of peace, but I’m afraid of the answer. You can wear shorts or any kind of pants. Jeans…slacks, whatever you like. A shirt of any kind is fine with me. There’s this great little restaurant where we can have lunch.” She frowned, then added, “Actually, it’s more like a tearoom, but the dress code is casual.”

“Okay,” David said, and took a pair of chinos from a hanger, then stood for a moment, choosing a shirt that would match.

Cara paused, watching the play of muscles across his back. Her gaze fell on the multitude of scars on his body as it had so many times before. Suddenly blinded by tears, she turned before he could see them and began digging through a dresser drawer.

It occurred to her then that she’d taken her freedom for granted, never considering the countless men who sacrificed on a daily basis so that she would never live in fear. She turned abruptly.

“David.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, as he bent over to tie his shoe.

“Thank you.”

He looked up. “For what?”

“For the years you spent in the service of this country. For the nights you didn’t sleep and the pain—”

He stood and put his forefinger in the center of her mouth, gently stopping what she’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to say this,” he said.

“Yes…actually I do,” Cara said. “I spent a lot of years feeling sorry for myself because my life didn’t work out the way I’d planned. And then I see you, like this, and what you suffered while I was warm and safe and—”

Her voice broke and she looked away.

David’s expression was shuttered. How did he respond to a brutal truth?

“Come here, honey. It’s okay.”

“No,” she muttered. “It will never be okay.”

“It’s almost over,” he said.

She frowned. “That’s not the first time you’ve alluded to unfinished business. What is it, David? Why can’t you tell me?”

He tried to grin. “You know the old spy joke. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you, and we both know I couldn’t do that. So…”