for good measure. Hopefully, it’d be hard to be sad while slurping down a chocolate milk shake with extra caramel.
Waiting for the blender to work its magic, she flipped through her mail with about as much interest as she’d felt in that date. Which was just about zip.
Then she came to a letter with an APO postal cancellation. There was no name, nor an address, so there was no way to know who it was from.
But she did.
Hands shaking, Genna didn’t even notice dropping the rest of the mail on the counter as she held up the letter in both hands. Heart racing, she wet her lips, wanting to open it. Terrified to see what he’d said.
Ten years ago, Brody Lane had shown her an all-too-brief glimpse of awesome. In return, she’d landed him in the navy. She hadn’t known where he’d gone at first. Partly because she’d spent a month on in-house restriction, partly because nobody—not her parents, not anyone in town, nobody—was saying a word. It wasn’t until Joe had gotten out of the county lockup that he’d told her what Brody had done, had sacrificed. Because of her.
She stared at the letter, a little ragged and worn-looking against the soft pink of her manicure. She was the one who’d made this reconnection by writing him. She’d always wanted to. Always wished she’d had the nerve to tell him she was sorry for her part in landing him in the navy. But she’d been afraid. Afraid he’d hated her for it.
He was like the bridge between the two sides of her life. That side, fabulous and fun, filled with possibilities and excitement and wild times. And this side, with its day-in-and-day-out practicality, focused on doing what was smart, what was right, being perfect.
And she was scared that opening the envelope would somehow suck her right back to the other side of the bridge.
And even more terrified at how much she wanted to go there.
Figuring it’d be confetti soon the way she was shaking, she grabbed her brass letter opener, and with a deep breath, slit the envelope open. She gently pulled the thin paper out and, without blinking, unfolded it.
And stared.
Frowned and blinked. Then stared harder.
“Is he kidding?” she asked the empty room in bafflement.
Then she looked at the paper again.
What are you wearing?
What was she wearing?
That was it?
She’d risked family disapproval, her father’s fury, and had sucked up every last bit of nerve she had to write to him. She’d sent horrible news, informing him of the downward spiral and death of a guy who’d once been his best friend.
And this was how he responded?
Grinding her teeth, Genna held the letter out at arm’s length, peering at it again. But the words didn’t change.
What was she freaking wearing?
Jaw set, more alive than she’d felt in forever, she stormed over to the small rolltop desk in the corner and grabbed her stationery box. She yanked out a sheet of paper, ripping it in the process. She snatched up another and let her pen fly across the page.
She’d show him.
* * *
A teeny, tiny nightie the same shade as your Harley. You remember the Harley, don’t you? Midnight-blue, so pretty it glowed. I used to dream you’d take me for a ride on that bike. In my dreams, I always thanked you by taking you for a ride in return. I could do that, in this little nightie....
BRODY READ THE letter for the fifth time, still not believing what it said. She was trying to kill him. That had to be it. Somehow, she knew this time he was floating in a submarine in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with a crew of men.
He looked at the letter again and nodded. Yeah. She was getting revenge for something. Maybe she was pissed that he’d made her scream with pleasure, then hadn’t called the next morning. Girls were weird like that, even when the not-calling excuse was being shanghaied into the navy.
Brody realized he was grinning.
How far could he push her? How far was she willing to go?
He grabbed a piece of paper and pen.
Might as well find out.
* * *
“DID THE MAIL COME?” Genna asked as soon as she cleared the front door, her arms filled with grocery bags, her purse and the box of fliers the mayor wanted folded just so for distribution.
“It’s on the table.” Macy gave her a narrow-eyed look. “You’ve been awfully interested in the mail lately. Are you expecting something important?”
“Important? Nope, not at all.” Genna wet her lips, trying to be subtle as she edged toward the kitchen. “I’m just waiting for the latest Cosmo. I heard there are some great book recommendations in there.”
“Books. In Cosmo?” Macy shook her head and went back to sewing tiny roses on an array of tulle circles. “I can just imagine what kind of stories those are. Naughty, right?”
“Very naughty. Red-hot, in fact, I read one last month called Fearless. Very hot,” Genna said, spying the APO return and dropping her armload of stuff to grab it up. “And speaking of, I’m going to hop in the shower. Long day.”
She might have babbled a couple more things as she hurried for the bathroom, her only guaranteed privacy. She loved having Macy here, but it’d sure be nice when her friend was married and Genna had her house to herself again.
The door locked, she twisted the shower on with one hand while ripping the letter open with the other.
You’d look good in a nightie while I bent you over my Harley. But you’d look even better in nothing.
What’d you taste like? I wonder.
What do you think I taste like?
What would it feel like to find out?
Whew.
Genna caught her reflection in the mirror as she puffed out a breath. Her face was red. Not from embarrassment. Nope, that was the color of sexual need. Hot, vivid, intense.
Seeing no other option, she stripped naked, turned off the hot water and slid under the icy spray.
And imagined Brody as she searched for relief.
* * *
I’m craving ice cream. Something cold, rich, delicious. I’ll share it with you. But you have to eat it off my body. You can choose where to start. But to help you along, I’ll pour a little drizzle of caramel sauce here, just below my belly button. Want to lick it up?
BRODY GROANED—actually groaned aloud—reading those words.
He’d
