SEAL Brotherhood 06 - SEAL My Destiny by Sharon Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

her bedside clock. It was nearly seven thirty. “You want some company?”
    “Not sure it’s a very good idea, Julie.”
    “Then why did you call me?”
    “To apologize. I thought since we were going to be family from now on, we should bury the hatchet.”
    “Which hatchet? The one between my shoulder blades or the one between yours?”
    “Funny.”
    She heard his breathing; it was a little raspy, like he was shaking between breaths. The smooth, confident sailor she’d been with that magic night had turned into a teenage boy, she thought.
    “Why don’t you give me a few minutes, and I’ll come over and we can have breakfast.”
    “I don’t think it’s necessary. I said what I had to say.”
    “So you don’t want to have breakfast with me?”
    “Julie, talking to you is…hard. This is me, apologizing.”
    “Yes, and you haven’t answered my question yet, Luke.”
    After a brief pause he said, “Yes, I would like to have breakfast with you.”
    “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
    Julie scrambled to the shower. She washed her hair and shaved everything she could. She put on a black panties and bra set. Slipped her legs into her straight-legged jeans that were perhaps just a little too small. Put on a white cotton long-sleeved T-shirt. She checked to be sure she could see the black bra through the cotton fabric.
    Perfect.
    She bunched her hair into a crystal-studded clip, applied a little pressed powder and fresh, red-cherry lip-gloss. She added a little color to her cheeks and applied mascara and some pearl white eyelid powder. Last she walked through the spritzer of cologne.
    And then she took a good look in the mirror.
    “What are you doing, Julie?”
    The face stared back at her, looking perky and bubbly. Her lipstick was too red. Her blush a little too deep pink. The shadow of her black bra too obvious. She’d put on too much perfume.
    She removed the hair clip, wiped off the blush with a damp washcloth, dabbed off some of the perfume and changed her shirt to a black one. She kept her jeans. She brushed her hair down smooth, tucked it behind her ears, and left it plain.
    Aroma Roasters smelled wonderful and fresh. The place was packed with people sipping espressos at small tiled tables, or bellying up on stools at the hammered copper counter overlooking the street. The scream of the machines punctuated the air. Taking a deep breath, she searched the room from right to left and spotted him in a shadowed corner. His chin rested against his fist, propped up by his elbow resting on the tabletop.
    He was watching her, but didn’t get up until she began to walk in his direction. She knew if she’d missed him somehow, he would have stayed seated and just let her go. Something in her heart ached over the man’s coldness.
    “What can I get you?” he asked.
    “Just a cappuccino.”
    “I’ll be right back,” he said stiffly. She watched several women eye him appreciatively and give her a close inspection. He waited in line, got two cappuccinos, and then returned to the table.
    She folded one forearm over the other as she watched him take a sip of the hot coffee, leaving a little foamed milk on his upper lip he licked away with the rough tongue that had done things to her body. She found it difficult to be angry with him, but decided not to open the conversation, instead to just watch and see where it led on its own.
    He frowned and linked his fingers together on the tabletop. “Julie, I want to explain a couple of things to you. It was suggested I call you to apologize, and maybe give you a little explanation of what’s been going on with me.”
    “Fair enough,” she tried to look and sound neutral. She reminded herself she had the handy-dandy disclosure statement tucked away somewhere in her mind, so she could prove to herself she’d been properly warned in case something happened which turned out to be painful.
    He licked his lips, and then bit down on a small corner, turning his head to study