Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,5
myself to that group. They were from Ohio.”
“You just let them leave,” he pointed out, and it was weird as hell, because as he held her gaze, something shifted in his chest, something massive that hadn’t moved in years.
“I definitely look less like a, you know, hooker with my jacket on,” she told him.
“I am sorry,” he said again, “that I said what I said …”
“You reminded me of my best friend’s cousin,” she said. “Billy. When you walked up, for a second I thought you were him. Which didn’t make sense, but … He was Marine Recon. What are you? Navy, right?”
How the hell did she know? None of his tattoos showed.
She pointed to his dive watch. “I used to work for a catalog company, and we sold much cheaper versions. Lots of knockoff K-Bar knives, too. And chain mail. You ever need chain mail, I can hook you up with a supplier.”
Frank laughed at that. “Thanks.” Chain mail. “I probably won’t …” He shook his head.
“You never know,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes. Sparkle and spark.
“I pretty much do.” He smiled back. And had to ask. “So, you and, uh, Billy, um …?”
“A thing of the past,” she informed him. “And yes, it was tragic. He broke my heart—he went and married someone else. Of course, I was twelve, so within a week I’d moved on to Chandler from Friends.”
Frank laughed. “Ah.”
“How long have you been out of the service?” the woman asked, but didn’t wait for him to answer. She somehow managed to read his eyes or maybe his mind. “You’re not out—you’re still in.”
Frank nodded. “You really should’ve stayed with that group from Ohio.”
“And missed the chance to be mistaken for a lady of the evening?”
“What if I was dangerous?” he asked, and there it was again. That spark of heat between them.
“Why Amazing Grace?” she countered.
Frank just looked at her, using silence to let her know that he wasn’t going to let her change the subject. Damn, but she was pretty, with those dark brown eyes that shone with intelligence, even though she’d clearly had too much to drink. But she met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated, just letting the singer’s beautiful voice wash over them. Crazy for crying and crazy for trying …
Finally, he spoke. “Got a thing for livin’ dangerously?” he drawled, purposely leaning heavily on his accent. But even though her cheeks again flushed, this time she didn’t look away.
“Actually, no,” she admitted. “I’ve always been careful. Sometimes too careful, I think.”
Frank had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight. How stupid was that? Giving your heart based only on the way a woman looked, without getting to know her …? But as he held this girl’s gaze, he felt that same seismic shift in his chest that he’d felt before. “No such thing as too careful.”
“Yeah,” she said, dead serious. “There is. If I’d left with the Ohio squad, I would’ve regretted it. Badly.
Maybe I’m crazy, but when I saw you …” Her voice trailed off, and she finally looked away. Laughed. “I am crazy. I must be. I just … I didn’t want to regret not meeting you. Your turn to embarrass yourself. Why Amazing Grace?”
“My mother passed last spring.” The words left his mouth as if on their own volition. What the hell …? There were members of his SEAL team whom he hadn’t yet told of her death, and here he was, telling this stranger.
A stranger who’d just looked him in the eye and admitted that she was willing to risk her own personal safety just to meet him.
Like he was something special, like she’d seen his aura or some kind of halo hanging over his head. Right.
My mother passed last spring really wasn’t a complete answer to Why Amazing Grace? but somehow she understood. Completely.
“Oh, wow,” she said, her eyes sympathetic. “Happy Thanksgiving, huh? It must’ve been such a hard day for you.”
Frank felt himself nod. Whatever it was that had shifted in his chest had moved to his throat. He tried to swallow it back down, but it was lodged there. She put her hand on his arm, her fingers cool and soft against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”
She meant it. Frank didn’t know what to say.
Across the street, the singer finished his song. He started packing up his box. “Sorry, folks. Gotta run. Shelter starts filling this time of night, weather like this. If I wait too long,