Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,66

that place where maybe she could find objectivity, even if it felt like she was really hiding.

“You want half?” She looked up from the salad. Jake was sitting back, watching her.

“What just happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“One minute you were all fired up, and now you’re—not.”

“I’m following your lead,” she told him. “Learning patience.” And relying on that hard-won confidence she’d cultivated in herself. She really didn’t have to know everything, she could trust—in herself and in Jake. In the future. “And listening to my own words. We’ve only known each other a week,” she pointed out.

“Eight days,” he corrected. “And if we’re counting hours like their dates, we’ve been going out for six weeks.”

She felt a frown crease her forehead. “How do you figure?”

“Forty-plus hours together. An average date being three hours, then we’ve had nineteen so far, spread out at 3 a week. . .”

His words trailed off. Ivy liked his thinking.

“Well, we’ve spent some of that time sleeping.”

“Counts,” he insisted. “There is nothing sweeter than falling asleep with you in my arms, Ivy. Or waking with you curled up next to me. You settle me, and I like that.”

She wasn’t so sure about his choice of words. She liked to think they lifted each other up. Jake certainly brought out the best in her.

He reached across the table and smoothed the knot of tension between her eyebrows. “It’s a good thing, Ivy. With you, I have a peace I’ve never felt before, and a sense of purpose, of my life being something bigger than it was.”

Wow. Now those were good words. And even if he hadn’t said it, she could read love between the lines. It would make waiting for his declaration a lot easier. And wait, she would, with a measured distance—if she could manage it.

She closed her hand over his and moved it down to her lips where she placed a kiss in his palm. Then she released him.

“Let’s eat.”

She divided the salad, moving half to a paper plate she’d found in the bag, and handed it to him.

“There’s a shrimp fajita in there, too,” he said and glanced at his watch. “You’re working at seven?”

She nodded. “And tomorrow I have a split shift to pick up at three.”

“I’ll be on base from six tomorrow morning until six Friday morning. More maneuvers,” he explained. “What time do we leave for Vegas?”

She shrugged. “I usually nap, but leave before the bottle-neck on the 15. Maybe one o’clock?”

“You want me to set up the hotel?” he offered, but Ivy wanted to do it. He was always looking out for her and she wanted to do something nice for him.

“I’ll surprise you,” she said.

“I have to report early Monday morning,” he told her. “Next week is seven to four for me. You have any nights off?”

She’d work a standard split on Tuesday and Thursday. “I’ll be off at seven those nights.”

“Let’s catch a movie,” he suggested.

Another regular date. She liked those. “What do you want to see?”

They decided on a thriller starring two of Ivy’s favorite actors.

And lunch continued with similar talk and only light touches. Jake stayed long enough to

shower with her, lathering her body and washing her hair, but his touch was again tender rather than sexual. He didn’t tease her; his touch was soothing. He appreciated the differences in their bodies, her beauty, and he showed it. Ivy was still wrapped in her robe when he left and the few tears that escaped she brushed away before they could build into a real good cry.

Damn, the distance hurt.

Chapter Twenty

Jake’s apartment was only slightly bigger than Ivy’s. It had a bedroom, bath and a combined living-dining-kitchen area that was dominated by a huge flat screen TV. Other than a few family photographs, his walls and surfaces were empty. What furniture he did have tended toward dark colors and the walls were painted a crisp white. He had shades in the windows rather than curtains and a drawer full of plastic cutlery. Definitely a man-pad.

“You like?” Jake stood in front of the leather sofa, his hands on his hips and a knowing grin on his face.

“It’s very masculine,” she said. Clean, uncluttered and with a lot of sharp edges, all of which did a good job of reflecting the man himself. “Is this your sister?”

She picked up a photograph. It was a color head shot and the woman had long blond hair and the same blue-green ocean eyes as Jake.

“Yeah. And those are my nephews.” He walked over