Always a Marine 21 - Lest Old Marines Be Forgot by Heather Long Read Free Book Online

in between bites and whenever she spoke. Her gaze snagged on his time and again.
    Direct contact didn’t bother her, nor did his attention. If anything, she grew more daring as they finished their meal and traded out the wine glasses for coffee. Any time he came into contact with her, she leaned into it—and she’d long since angled her leg against his beneath the table.
    She loved television, and he had no idea what half the shows were that she mentioned. It surprised her that he wasn’t as big a sports fan as most, though he didn’t mind watching the big games on the holidays. Neither had any interest in hunting, but he loved fishing—and she’d never been. She loved the idea of traveling to exotic ports, and he nixed about of five them right off the top of her list as being unsafe for travel. The other five—well he wouldn’t mind taking her to see them.
    They’d gone through an entire carafe of coffee when the waitress stepped in to murmur that they would be turning the lights down soon. At Brenda’s slow blink, Tom checked his watch. It was five minutes to midnight. Surprise jerked him upright, and he motioned to the window. “Do you want to watch the fireworks from here? Or would you like to go upstairs?”
    All evening they’d skirted the night portion of their 1Night Stand-planned assignation and he hadn’t minded in the slightest. It had been a long time since he’d had that much fun. Still, she’d had trouble with New Year’s Eve before—a harsh reminder of her loss.
    The quiet animation drained away from her expression. “It’s almost midnight, isn’t it?”
    He nodded once and when she made a move as though to stand, he rose and caught her chair for her, easing it out of the way.
    “I think I’d like to go upstairs.” She didn’t quite look at him, but he felt the weight of her attention. Following her line of sight, he caught her staring at their reflection in the window. Side by side, he seemed a dour companion to her elegance.
    He’d settled the bill before dinner had even been served. She collected her purse and they slipped out of the quiet alcove. The ride up to the room was short and quick, and the suite had been prepared in anticipation of their arrival, right down to a bottle of champagne on ice and a tray of chocolates. Most women seemed to like those types of things.
    Sliding the keycard into his pocket, Tom followed Brenda inside. She kicked off her shoes and set her purse on a table and walked across the room to the French doors leading to a private balcony. A glance at his watch told him they still had a full minute to go.
    “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.
    He’d been ready for that response. “We don’t have to do anything.” Walking over to the sofa, he tugged a light decorative throw blanket off the back and laid it over her shoulders before pulling the doors open. Aware of her bare feet, he caught her before she stepped out onto the cold marble balcony. “We can watch from right here.”
    A shudder passed over her and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, fisting the blanket closed in front to keep out the chill.
    “You did not pay for all of this beauty to simply watch the fireworks with a neurotic woman.”
    Giving her a gentle squeeze, he shook his head. “It’s a good thing I’m not. I rather like my company, stop insulting her.” Below them, a roar went up and the sound of music drifted on the cold breeze. Beyond the horizon, where the city lights glowed, fireworks began to explode in the air.
    “Happy New Year,” he told her quietly. The silent shaking of her shoulders didn’t surprise him, and he cradled her closer—gratified when she leaned against his chest. Fixing his attention on the fireworks, he measured out the time as she cried. The pauses between the shakes grew longer and longer, until they seemed to cease with the last of dazzling, radiant conclusion of the celebratory show.
    “Happy New Year,” she managed in a