He blinked down at her, shadows flickering in the depths of his eyes, his voice whisky-rough. “You’re in my blood, Jennifer.” His mouth came down on hers, firm, strong like the man, his tongue sliding past her lips, demanding, claiming. Wild. They were wild. She was on her toes, or maybe he was lifting her. She didn’t know, didn’t care. This was the first time since his arrival that she let herself completely enjoy Bobby. Completely accepting that what they had been didn’t matter nearly as much as what they were here and now.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, shoving the damp cotton upward. “Take it off,” she ordered.
Bobby yanked it over his head, tossing it on the floor, giving her a delicious eyeful of muscle. Her hands traced the hot flesh, and she cast him a tiny, seductive smile. “I love your soldier tough-guy abs of yours.”
“Oh, yeah?” His voice held a smile, rather than the duress, the torment, of minutes before.
“Hmm,” she concurred, her smile fading when her gaze lifted and latched on to his, the sizzle between them so much deeper than simple attraction. Heat shimmered along her nerve endings, desire pooling deep in her belly.
He picked her up, palms intimately wrapping around her backside. Her hips cradled his, his erection thick, pulsing against her. “I want you to like my body, Jennifer,” he said, his voice low, taut; he nipped her neck. “I need a shower.” He nipped her neck again, then her lips. “Care to join me?”
She curled her fingers together behind his neck. “It’s my shower,” she teased. “I most definitely get to join the hot, naked soldier in it.”
He kissed her then, a fevered frenzy coming over them, and she wasn’t sure they would make it to the shower anytime soon. All that mattered was touching, tasting, feeling.
Until a sudden pounding sounded at the door, jerking their mouths apart. Bobby murmured, “What the—?”
“Jennifer! It’s Marcie. Let me in. It’s raining!”
Jennifer’s eyes went wide, her hands resting on Bobby’s shoulders. “It’s close to midnight. Something must be wrong.”
Bobby set Jennifer down, snagging his shirt and pulling it over his head even as Jennifer jerked the door open.
The rain was coming down in buckets again, and Marcie rushed in the door, dripping wet. “Mark and I broke up,” she sobbed. “The wedding is off!”
“What?!” Jennifer exclaimed.
“The wedding isn’t off, Marcie,” Bobby said calmly. “You’re just upset.”
Marcie nodded. “It’s off. He hates me. We hate each other.” A panicked look flashed across her face as she focused on Bobby. “Uh, I didn’t know you were here. I should have known you’d be here.” She burst into tears, her teeth chattering. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving.” She turned to the door.
“No!” Jennifer and Bobby said at the same time. Bobby quickly pressed his hand to the door. “Stay. I’ll go talk to Mark.”
Marcie whirled around. “It won’t do any good. He hates me, Bobby. He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Bobby assured her.
“He does,” she said, mascara running down her cheeks. “And I’m dripping all over your floor.”
Jennifer knew a hot-bath, glass-of-wine crisis when she saw one. “I’ll get a towel,” she said and started to turn away before adding, “And you and Mark are going to make up, Marcie. You watch and see.”
“We won’t,” Marcie insisted. “You don’t know how bad it is.”
Jennifer had a good idea. She’d seen them fighting. But she didn’t comment, not about to make matters worse.
“You’ve been trying to push him away, Marcie,” Bobby said as Jennifer walked toward the hall closet, silently agreeing with his assessment.
Jennifer started a hot bath with bubbles and then rushed back to Marcie with a big, fluffy towel in hand but stopped at the edge of the hallway as she heard what Marcie was saying.
“And you’re any better, Bobby?” Marcie demanded. “You ran away so Jennifer wouldn’t push you away when you became like your father. Well…I can’t have kids. Mark can never be a father if he marries me. I thought I could deal with that, but he’s going to resent me down the road.”
“So that’s it?” Bobby challenged. “You’re trying to make him hate you now, because you think he’ll hate you later?”
“No,” she said. “No, I… He says it doesn’t matter. But what’s he supposed to say?”
“He’d find a reason to walk away if he wanted to walk away,” Bobby replied.
Jennifer felt as if she’d been slugged in the chest. Bobby had found his reason to leave.
“Do you love him?” Bobby asked.
“Yes,” Marcie said. “I love him.”
“Then why can’t you just let him love you?”
She started bawling again. “Because I’m scared, Bobby.”
Jennifer had heard enough and rounded the corner, expecting to go to Marcie’s rescue. Instead, she found Bobby pulling a dripping-wet Marcie into his arms and hugging her, a big brother taking care of his little sister. Bobby looked up and his gaze captured Jennifer’s. “Then do what I didn’t,” he said. “Tell him you’re scared. Let him help you.”