Did we kiss?

The question hung in the air. Claire’s pretty mouth was a
shocked O. She hadn’t wanted to ask the question, that was
clear. And the strong, controlled woman he’d kissed a year
ago would never have asked the question, she’d have finagled
the info out of him, cleverly and casually.

But that Claire was gone.

In her place was this pale, shaking ghost. Man, she was in
bad shape. So thin he could feel bone when he touched her,
bruised-looking eyes with a lost look in them, the very
light tan she’d had in Laka gone without a trace, though she
now lived in Florida.

This new Claire had had a panic attack when Stavros’s waiter
started piling food on the table. Dan could have kicked
himself in the ass. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her
system simply wouldn’t be able to deal with it. And yet he’d
seen how thin she’d become, held her briefly in his arms and
felt the fragility. Duh. It meant her system couldn’t handle
food.

He’d seen that before. He’d seen every manifestation of PTSD
there was. His gunner in Afghanistan, who’d had both legs
blown off, had simply turned his face to the wall, unwilling
to live. He’d had to be fed parenterally for a couple of
months to keep him alive.

Dan hadn’t thought of that. He’d simply wanted to take
Claire to a place that was warm and welcoming, where the
food was good, and where she could relax. And Stavros’s
place fit the bill. Except Stavros overdid the portions,
always had. Marines had hearty appetites. And
shit-for-brains Dan hadn’t thought of that.

Man, Claire had nearly fainted. She’d been pale before, but
as the waiter slid the dishes in front of her, she’d turned
the color of ice. He was lucky she hadn’t fainted, or thrown up.
But she’d had a panic attack. And in her panic, she’d
blurted out her question and now looked as if she’d
accidentally tripped a land mine.

This was going to be hard. But Dan was a Marine. He knew how
to do hard.

He picked up her cold, trembling hand.

“I don’t know why I said that.” Claire’s shaking voice was
high, breathless. “It’s crazy. I am so sorry. I don’t know
where that came from, it just—“

Dan laid a finger across her lips. “Sh.” He couldn’t stand
to see that lost look on her beautiful face. “Hush. It’s not
crazy. You’re not crazy.” Reluctantly, he lifted his finger
from her mouth. She had amazingly soft lips. He remembered
that, nightly. “And for your information, we did kiss. Just
before you left with Marie.”

“We did? We kissed?” Claire’s huge, silver-blue eyes never
left his face, watching him as carefully as if he were a
grenade that could blow up at any moment. Or as if he would
kiss her again.

Which, well, he wanted to do. Badly. So badly he held his
right fist under the table, tightly clenched. It had taken
all his willpower—and he had a lot of willpower—to take his
finger away from her. He didn’t just want his finger against
her mouth. He wanted his own mouth there, too. He wanted to
be mouth to mouth, chest to chest, groin to groin, with
Claire Day. So close he could breathe for her. So close he
could feel her heartbeat.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse. He cleared it. “And then you
went out and got yourself blown up.”

Her face lightened a little. It wasn’t a smile, but it was
the ghost of one. “I’m sure the two events were unrelated,”
she said. The big chandelier in the middle of the room
reflected off her eyes as she searched his, bright lances of
silver. “How did we—how did we get to that point? Had we
been…dating? That past week? Because I don’t remember you at
all.”

“We didn’t date.” Dan pushed a small plate of baklava a
little closer. “Eat some of that. You don’t have to finish
it, stop when you don’t want any more. But I want you to eat
a little. One. Just a bite or two of one, if you can’t
finish it. Please.”

Because now Dan knew what his new mission in life was. Dan
had been intensely mission oriented ever since he joined the
marines. He focused on his goal and he achieved it.
And now his goal was to take care of this incredible woman.
She was magic. Smart and beautiful and strong, brought low
by thugs. He’d almost lost her and by some miracle had found
her. He wasn’t losing her again. No way.

“Yessir.” A corner of her beautiful mouth lifted. For a
second, Dan had a flash of the woman that was, hidden
somewhere inside this frail, wounded creature. She wanted
out and he wanted to help her get out. “Nobody disobeys the
Detachment Commander.”

That was true. In times of danger, the Detachment Commander
was Commander in Chief. He was to be obeyed instantly. He
was God.

“Damn straight.” Dan cut a corner of a piece of Stavros’s
superb baklava. “Now put that in your mouth.”

“Yessir,” she said again. He watched the forkful disappear
in her mouth, and envied it. “So.” She tilted her head to
one side, considering him. He knew what he was. A battered
34 year old with a metal knee, no spleen, half deaf in one
ear, who’d had to start over from scratch. A man who owned
his own home and his own business, but who didn’t have looks
and didn’t have charm.

She smiled. “I guess it was that old classic. The moonlight,
the exotic locale, the gunfire...”

“Exactly.” Great. A flash of the old Claire Day. “Now eat.”