Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,44

a parking space in front of the apartment complex and Jake paused to see if Angela would stay and listen. She didn’t move.

“The chaplain listened while I poured out everything bubbling within me. When I was finished, I thought he’d probably tell me I was right to want to quit, that I would be doing my country a favor. Instead, he just nodded his head and said one simple sentence.”

“What?”

“He told me that when it’s time, God gives you the courage to do what you need to do.” Jake shrugged. “He was right.”

Several seconds of silence passed. Finally when he realized she wasn’t going to ask any more questions, Jake opened his door. He was coming around the car to help her out when she got out on her own and said baldly, “The difference between you and me is that when it was time, you had the courage to follow through. I didn’t.”

Jake stood outside Angela’s bedroom, unsure of his next move. He almost felt like that clueless kid again, struggling with the right thing to do and afraid of doing the wrong thing. What he wanted was to barge into the bedroom, force a confrontation, igniting her anger and that fiery spirit he admired. Seeing Angela so defeated tore at him like a jagged knife. Good judgment told him to let her be—the rest would do her good. Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, she’d have a different perspective.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. Good judgment be dammed.

The sound of the shower from the bathroom should have stopped him. He was aware she took a shower every night after her performance. Dancing worked up a healthy sweat and she’d commented more than once that she smelled. Jake couldn’t tell her that he loved the natural fragrance of her body. Admitting that would get them into a territory he was determined to avoid.

So why the hell was he headed where he was sure to find trouble?

He stopped at the entrance to the bathroom. Steam billowed from the shower but Angela stood in the middle of the room. The humid mist was so thick, he couldn’t see her clearly. He waved to clear his vision and then froze. She was standing in the middle of the room, completely nude with the exception of those damn black boots. Unable to look away, his eyes roamed over her. Yes he saw her almost every night with little more on than what she was wearing now. This was different. The setting was intimate and if he reached out his hand, he’d be touching that soft-as-silk skin. From the tip of her long elegant feet to the top of her beautiful head, she was perfection. Impossibly long legs, slender hips, taut, flat stomach, perfect globes for breasts, slender, feminine shoulders, and a face both exotic and ethereal. It was as if every fantasy of the perfect woman had culminated into the making of Angela Delvecchio.

“I can’t get my boots off.”

While he’d been standing here, salivating like a teenager in the first throes of sexual arousal, she’d been working to remove her clothes to take a shower. Her injured hand prevented her from tugging the boots off. Never had he felt more like a heel.

“Sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll pull them off.”

When she complied, Jake went to his knees and lifted a booted foot. He told himself he was performing a service. Appreciating the view shouldn’t be part of the equation. Yet in this position, how could he not look? She was smooth and hairless, everywhere. He knew about Brazilian waxes. Had heard they were painful. As a stripper, it made sense that she’d had the procedure done. Yet all he could think about was whether or not she’d been like that before this mission and what would she do if he leaned forward and tasted her sweet, moist flesh?

Swallowing hard, he tugged at her boot and removed it slowly, torturing himself as he exposed even more beautiful skin. One boot off and one to go, he glanced up at her face, sure that he would see the same need that was roaring through his bloodstream. Instead her eyes were closed and tears streamed down her face. Hell and damnation, enough with his inappropriate lust. She was suffering.

He removed the second boot, stood and pulled her to her feet. “Get in the shower.” He grimaced at the thick, gruff command but was surprised he’d been able to speak at