I do not want to be responsible for his heart attack.”
She laughed as his reflection in the window pulled a grimace. She could understand. It probably wouldn’t be good for his career to piss off a major general, even if he was stationed half the country away at Tyndall.
“I promise.”
Chase backed away, and Rina ducked under his arm as he held open the door for her. A bell rang out through the space. Within a minute a woman materialized from the back.
“Can I help you?”
Chase answered, “We’d like the wedding package please, complete with Elvis.”
God, what was she doing? The thought of a wedding—even a joke wedding—was sending her heart rate skittering a little too fast.
Most girls grew up with the fantasy of their wedding in their heads—white dresses, fragrant flowers, flickering candles. Not her. She’d grown up with the memories of her parents screaming, the experience of her mother’s funeral, the idea that two people could make each other so miserable they self-destructed…and took their child’s sense of security with them.
“Just fill out these forms for me. Feel free to pick out a gown and tux from over there when you’re done.”
The woman placed several pieces of paper before them. Rina stared down at the tiny boxes. The little lines wavered for a moment before straightening out again.
Chase shifted closer, planting one foot between her own spread feet. The heat from his body fractured the thoughts racing through her head. He felt so good against her.
What was she thinking about? Oh, the wedding. But it was just a joke. Nothing more. Besides. She was being reckless, fearless Rina for once.
Looking down, she started to fill out the paperwork.
“Constance. I didn’t realize your middle name was Constance.” His chest brushed against the curve of her back, his hand snaking around the circle of her waist to hold her flat against him. Her throat went tight at the sensation.
“That’s because I don’t like it. My father picked it. It was my aunt’s name.” Her words were forced, breathy. She sounded like someone else, some seductive siren—someone she’d never been or could be.
“You’re right. I like Sabrina much better.”
“I don’t like Sabrina either…it was my mother’s middle name. No one calls me Sabrina.” Not since her mother had left when she was five. That’s when the General had begun to call her Rina.
He stared down at her with a heat that had her knees melting out from under her. “Maybe someone should.”
Thank God for the counter.
Maybe she should take a step back before she jumped him right on top of the glass. That was taking reckless too far.
“Done.” Smacking her pen on top of the papers, Rina turned and headed for the dresses hanging on the far wall. She needed to get away from him for a minute, to breathe some air that wasn’t permeated with Chase. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the sort of woman to contemplate grabbing a man and devouring him in public.
Whipping through the rack, she picked the first one that was her size, headed for the dressing room and pulled it on.
Despite contorting herself into a pretzel, she could not get the zipper up. Yelling out, “Can you zip me,” she headed into the small room between the dressing areas, holding the strap-less number to her chest.
Chase walked out of the other side, dressed to kill from head to toe. The tux he wore might not have been designed specifically for him, but it came pretty damn close to fitting perfectly. Uniforms were great and all, but Rina had a thing for a man in a tux. For this man in a tux.
Presenting her back to him, she held her breath, hoping to slow the rhythm of her roaring heart. He just stood there for several moments. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, traveling the length of her naked spine. Goose bumps ghosted up her skin. Beneath her shielding arm her nipples tightened and swelled.
The soft tread of his feet on worn linoleum should have been a warning, but when his fingers touched the small of her back she jumped anyway. She gulped in a large lungful of air, too much, because it rushed straight to her head, making the room waver. A single finger trailed a featherlight line across the indentation at the base of her spine. It took her a minute to realize what he was doing, her brain having malfunctioned at the spike of electricity from his touch.
“Somehow I didn’t take you for the fairy type.”
Rina turned her head, knowing she couldn’t see the tiny picture tattooed on her lower back but trying anyway. Most of the time she forgot it was even there.
“Bout of rebellion the year I graduated high school. It is a little fanciful for me, which is probably why I got it in the first place.”
Chase took another step closer, the heat of his body warming her skin.
“Oh, I don’t know. You have a whimsical side. I’ve seen it.” His fingers trailed slowly up the curve of her spine. She felt the sting and sizzle at the apex of her thighs as his knuckles scraped over each bump and valley.
“How many men have you let see—” his fingers moved down again, lightly brushing across the picture on her skin before dipping down into the still-open dress to brush the upper swell of her bottom “—that side of yourself?”
Rina drew in a deep, ragged breath before answering, “Enough.”
The woman bustled in. “Elvis is here, if you’re…I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. Just let me get this zipper.”
Chase zipped her up before moving away. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or regret that washed through her. Probably a combination of both.
2
FOR A JOKE, their Elvis was seriously into his role. He didn’t break character once as the photographer posed them for several shots. In fact, he even insisted on reciting the marriage vows. Both Chase and Sabrina tried to explain it wasn’t necessary but the man didn’t pay attention. Finally, they just shrugged and played along.
The whole thing was over in ten minutes. Sabrina giggled; it was a sound he hadn’t expected. It clashed with the polished exterior she showed the world. But after seeing the fanciful fairy on her back…maybe that carefree sound was more her than he’d ever realized. He’d always pictured her as studious, serious.
But he’d instinctively known there was something beneath, something she wouldn’t let out…something she didn’t let free. He’d wanted so badly to rumple her up, to ruffle her calm facade. To leave her mouth swollen from kisses and her eyes bleary with desire just to prove to them both that the passion was there, waiting.
He’d given in to the urge once. And it had been much more than he’d expected. Six years ago she’d taken things slowly—fighting the connection they both knew existed between them. And then she’d been gone.
If the way she
