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Mark read the red letters, knowing he should look away. The other guys radiated discomfort, shifting restlessly. But Mark couldn’t do it.
Those long bare legs begged a man to fall to his knees and worship her. One glance and he knew he’d start by running his hands over her calves, gently guiding her legs farther apart, until he reached her thighs. He’d lean forward and run his lips, his tongue, his teeth over those red letters...
Shit, he shouldn’t go there, not even in his freaking imagination. Make that especially not in his imagination after that dream he’d had on the flight back. But seeing Amy in her underwear uncovered a feeling that bordered on foreign. Desire, need, whatever the hell it was, looking at her, it hit him hard—and left him aching to touch and taste.
His gaze narrowed in, focusing on those sparkling words. If only luck was on his side.
While deployed, fear was his constant companion. It kept him vigilant, ready for the worst. The way he looked at it, skill kept him alive. Beneath the fear was a boatload of sadness and loss. Nothing lucky about that.
He heard her say something about puppies and pants. But Jango distracted him. One look at the dog
and the desire vanished. The animal was like a shadow, always there. He was a four-legged, living and breathing reminder that Amy belonged to his best friend. He shouldn’t be reading the words on her underwear. Not now, not ever.
“I’ll go throw on some pants,” she said. “Make yourselves at home.”
Mark heard Amy’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards, but kept his gaze trained on the wall. The stairs creaked, and he felt the brothers breathe a collective sigh of relief.
“Didn’t need to see that,” T.J. muttered.
“We should get back to work,” Gabe said, turning to the door. “Tell Amy we’ll catch up with her later. Over drinks at the Tall Pines Tavern?”
Mark nodded. “Sure thing. And thanks for the ride.”
Luke slapped his shoulder as they walked past. “Anytime, man. Good to have you home.”
The brothers hightailed it out the door. Mark dropped his rucksack on the floor and thought about following them. But it seemed like a bad idea to let the discomfort fester. Not when he’d come all this way to help her. He’d seen Amy in a bathing suit before. This wasn’t any different.
Two puppies raced through the room, each dragging a piece of what he guessed had been her jeans. They paused to bark at him, the unfamiliar person in their home, and then raced off again with their prize.
Watching the remains of her pants disappear around the corner, Mark realized a bathing suit was one thing. Leopard-print underwear was another. Someone was supposed to read those words—feeling lucky—and take action.
Was she seeing someone? She’d never said anything. But he was probably the last person she’d tell. Or at least on the list of last people. Darren’s brothers were up there, too. If she was...well, hell, that was exactly what she needed. Someone new. A fresh start.
His jaw tightened. But whoever the guy was, he’d better be worthy of Amy. She’d been through so much. If some jerk thought he could breeze in and out of her life, Mark would be tempted to kick the shit out of him. And he had a feeling Darren’s brothers would be next in line.
“Sorry about that.” Amy walked into the room. This time she wore a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversize sweatshirt. She’d pulled her long hair into a ponytail. She looked exactly like the Amy he remembered from high school.
“They’re six weeks old, and I’ve been doing some bite work with them,” she said, speaking quickly, a sure sign she was still embarrassed. “Mostly chasing rags. They saw my jeans and thought it was a game.”
Mark shrugged. “Most people are so excited to see me they forget their pants.”
Funny or not, the joke worked its magic and diffused the discomfort.
Amy cocked her head to one side and smiled. “You save people. I guess that is to be expected.”
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tight.
Mark closed his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had held him. The flare of desire he’d sensed earlier was gone. Her hug? It was better than Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings. It was pure comfort. Considering he’d been in Afghanistan less than forty-eight hours ago, it felt like a luxury.
“I missed you,” she said. He felt her breath on his neck and moved away, breaking the physical connection before his body misinterpreted the way she was pressed up against him, and he started thinking about falling down on his knees and worshipping her again.
“Same here.” The puppies raced around the corner, their paws sliding on the wooden floorboards. “Want some help rounding them up?”
“Let me grab some treats.”
Mark followed her into the kitchen, taking in every detail. Nothing had changed. Pictures of Amy with her dogs, of her and Darren, hung on the walls. There was a large framed shot of her parents sitting on a boat.
“Your folks enjoying Florida?” he asked.
