Healing A Hero (The Camerons of Tide’s Way #4) (5 page)

Chapter 8

August 2001

Tide’s Way, North Carolina

“WANT TO DANCE?” Philip stood and held out his hand.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t like dancing.” Elena set her soda down and took the offered hand. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her as his hard calloused palm closed around her fingers.

Philip’s Uncle Linc owned the Code-Seven, a little pub that was mostly a cop hangout. With a jukebox and a tiny dance floor, it was close enough to the college to attract students, but the presence of the local law enforcement kept the place respectable. Elena had never been there before, but she liked the atmosphere of comfortable familiarity and had been hoping Philip would ask her to dance.

He moved with remarkable grace in spite of his height, and with as much sensual appeal as Patrick Swayze. Another Johnny Castle! A surge of desire made Elena’s insides melt.

“They teach you how to dance like that in the Marines?”

“Hell, no. In the Marines they teach you how to march and crawl, and jump out of perfectly good airplanes, but dancing isn’t part of the curriculum.” He raised his arms and pumped his hips. “This is the real me.”

The real Philip was making her nipples harden and her panties damp.

Then the number ended, and disappointment swept through her as the dancers began to leave the floor. Philip shoved his hand in his pocket and brought out a few quarters. He dropped them into the old-fashioned juke box and punched a few buttons before turning back, his arms spread in invitation. She grinned. Apparently, Philip enjoyed dancing as much as she enjoyed being the center of his attention.

The machine keyed up the requested song, and the mellow sound of S Club 7 filled the room.
Never Had A Dream Come True—
a perfect song for dancing close with the man of her dreams. As Philip took her into his arms, the strangest sensation swept through her. A sensation oddly familiar, yet excitingly different.

“I feel like we’ve known each other forever.” She tipped her face up to murmur in Philip’s ear.

He held her away to peer down into her face. “We have. I remember you in pigtails and braces.”

“That was different.”

He laughed and pulled her close again, wrapping both arms behind her back. “You’re still Andy’s kid sister. Just all grown up.”

She rested her cheek against his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, seeming inexplicably right.
A part of me will always be with you
. She hummed along to the refrain. She belonged in this man’s arms tonight. Maybe forever.

The first number flowed into a second. And then a third. Moving to the music, feeling Philip’s hard, muscled body moving in sync with her own, Elena wanted the night never to end.

Disappointment flooded into her when the last of the requested numbers had played, and the speakers went silent.

“Want to ditch this place and go somewhere less . . . less crowded? Or should I key up a few more songs?”

“Where did you have in mind?” Elena grabbed her purse and started for the door before Philip could change his mind.

He tossed a couple of bills on their table and followed her.

The warm night outside the air-conditioned bar felt mysterious and romantic.

“We could walk along the boardwalk by the river,” Philip offered as they crossed the lot toward the car he’d borrowed from his mother. “Or there’s always the beach. Just so long as I don’t have to take you home straight off.”

“The beach,” Elena decided as she waited for Philip to open the door for her. That was another difference between Philip and everyone else she’d dated. No one had ever opened a door for her. Except on the night of her senior prom, and then it had been the limo driver.

Philip waited for her to slip into the car, and then shut the door. Had she been asked for an opinion beforehand, she’d have said such formal manners would feel patronizing and unnecessary. She wasn’t a princess. She was an independent adult. But with Philip, it just felt like gallantry. And she could definitely get used to it.

They left the lights and busyness of downtown Wilmington behind and headed toward Tide’s Way. Philip turned the car radio on, and a moment later, the S Club 7 was back, singing the same song he’d chosen at the bar. He hummed along. Elena rested her head against the seat and studied his profile.

She had the strongest urge to reach out and touch his hair, just to see what a super-short haircut felt like. The sides were cut so close and his hair was so blond, it was barely even visible. A brief fringe of bangs fell over his forehead, but even that was shorter than any guy she’d ever dated. Her high-school crush had sported a ragged surfer boy image, and Eli’s hair was long enough to put in a ponytail when he worked out.

While she was still wondering what the military cut would feel like beneath her fingers, Philip pulled into the little sandy lot at the remote end of the beach in Tide’s Way. She waited while he came around to open her door.

“I’m not used to such special treatment,” she said as she climbed out.

Philip frowned. “Special?”

“All the door opening and stuff like that.”

“I may not be an officer, but I am a gentleman.” He laughed as he closed the door behind her. “My mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They passed the ancient, old-fashioned anchor at the edge of the dunes and Philip tapped the ring at the top.

“If you don’t touch the anchor, does that bring bad luck?” Elena asked as she copied him.

“Probably not, but who wants to take chances?” Philip laced his fingers through hers.

“So . . . is this beach special or something?”

“Special to me. It’s the first beach I remember. My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid. But I’ve got salt in my blood, pretty much. I love the ocean everywhere.” He smiled down at her, his teeth glimmering whitely. “Don’t you?”

“Everyone has salt in their blood.” She rapped him playfully on the shoulder. Then she sobered, thinking about all the places Philip had been. Faraway places. “I bet you’ve seen a lot of beaches. And more oceans than just here or San Diego.”

“Quite a few,” he agreed. “In a couple of weeks, I’ll be checking out the beaches in Darwin, Australia. The guys tell me there’s a beach called Kangaroo Beach. That would be kinda neat, don’t you think? Seeing a kangaroo hopping around on the beach, just free and having fun?”

A sudden wave of panic hit her. In too short a time, Philip would go back to the exciting life he loved. She was going to miss him. Would he miss her? Even a little? Did he even think of her as anything more than a friend?

In spite of all the time they’d spent together in the days since his gran’s funeral, in spite of how easily they’d clicked, he hadn’t even kissed her goodnight when he walked her to the door after an evening out.

“Philip?” She stopped walking and he was forced to turn half way toward her.

“Yeah?”

She placed a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm. She took a quick breath and asked, “Do you think I’m too young for you?”

“Not at all.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ve been more worried you might think I’m too old for you.”

Blood rushed loudly in her ears and butterflies seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach.

“Am I?” he added.

She shook her head in quick denial.

“So, what’s going on in that brain of yours, then?”

“I want you to kiss me.” The butterflies bounced madly in her belly. She tipped her face up to his and leaned into the heat radiating off his body. “Please.”

Philip smiled and the endearingly familiar dimple creased his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”

He cupped her face with his free hand and ran a thumb over her lips. Then he bent his head and brushed her mouth with his.

Her body tingled, then ached. She ran her tongue over his upper lip, and he made a soft sound of surprise.

She slid her hands up his chest and wound them about his neck. As his arms closed about her, lifting her, she felt weightless. She skimmed her palms over the close-cut hair, only vaguely noticing that it was softer than she’d imagined. Then he kissed her like she’d never been kissed in her life.

Chapter 9

February 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

GOING OUT FOR a cup of coffee with his therapist was probably a really bad idea. Especially considering that therapist was Elena Castillo and it was becoming ever clearer that he wasn’t as indifferent to her as he’d hoped. Sitting across from her, watching her strong capable hands cradle the heavy white mug of steaming joe, filled him with a jumble of conflicted emotions. There was so much he didn’t know about Elena’s life. He tried telling himself it didn’t matter to him if life had been good to her or not.

She’d opted not to wait for him all those years ago. It seemed clear she hadn’t felt the same about him as he had about her, in spite of the tears she’d shed when he left her to return to active duty. But some part of him wanted to know.

Had Eli been the reason she’d stopped writing? Her marriage hadn’t lasted, but she must have loved the man. Or thought she was in love with him. Why else would she have married him?

All the agonizing questions Philip had struggled with fourteen years ago returned like a bad dream.

Am I crazy? I don’t need to know the answers now. It’s been too long and there’s no good reason to invite that pain into my heart again. Except now that she’s back in my life, even if it’s temporary, can I bear it if I never understand why?

“Tell me about Eli. What happened?”

Elena set her mug on the table and fiddled with it, running her finger around the rim. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged, but she wasn’t watching him, so he went on. “I’m sorry about the divorce. I’ve been picturing you happily married with a good life all these years. The kind of life you deserved. I couldn’t help wondering why it didn’t work.”

It was her turn to shrug. She glanced at him briefly, but her gaze quickly returned to her mug. “The short answer?” She bit her lip as if debating with herself. “He cheated on me. I forgave him the first time, but . . .”

A sudden stab of indignation shot through him. How could anyone cheat on a woman like Elena? He hadn’t exactly been a monk in the years between then and now, but it had been a long time before he’d slept with anyone after her. And then, only after he’d learned of her marriage.

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to reach out and cover her hands with his own. To reconnect with her somehow. But what would that accomplish? She wouldn’t have married someone else in the first place if she hadn’t been over him. That fact hadn’t changed.

“Don’t be.” She sat back and let go of the mug. “Eli and I are still friends. And my heart isn’t broken.”

She’s friends with the asshole who cheated on her? What kind of marriage was it?
Maybe she’s cutting the guy slack for their daughter’s sake? He’d been willing to cut Holly a mile of slack for Tommy’s sake.

“Tell me about your little girl.” Kids were a safer subject. Even if he had once dreamed about having a whole houseful of them . . . with her.

Her face softened, and a smile tugged at her beautiful mouth. “She’s not so little. Her name’s Juliana, but she’s decided she wants to be called Julie. She acts like she thinks she’s all grown up already. She’s tall for her age and she’s got—she’s got her father’s eyes, but she’s—”

Elena fumbled in her purse and found a slim folder from which she pulled a photo. She pushed it across the table, and Philip took it.

He looked from the photo to Elena and back. Juliana’s dark hair fell in a tumble of curls about her face. She had finely arched brows, bright blue eyes, and a wide upturned smile. There were hints of Elena in the younger features, but she must take after her father more. Especially the eyes and the curly hair. “She’s pretty. Just like her mom.”

“She’s much prettier than me,” Elena said, reaching to take the photo back.

“No one’s prettier than you,” Philip blurted.

Elena flushed. “If you think flattery will lighten the workouts, you can forget it.” She replaced the photo in the folder and dropped it back into her purse. “But tell me about you. I know your most recent deployment was Afghanistan. Your file said that’s where you got wounded, but before that, were you—” Her brow furrowed, then she shook her head, her mouth pressed into a tight line. “I suppose you were right in the thick of things, weren’t you?”

The last thing he wanted to talk about was his time downrange. “Some.” He fiddled with a napkin he’d pulled from the dispenser.

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want.” She hesitated. “Did you ever get to see that beach with the kangaroos?”

“The beach with kangaroos?” He was confused.

“In Australia. Where you were going after—” Her eyes half shut beneath a fleeting frown. “After your leave was up.”

After the most incredible week of his life. Memories of that week had never really left him, but the lighthearted discussion about a beach with kangaroos had.

“I wasn’t in Darwin long enough to see anything but the main street and the pier. And I don’t remember much about either.”

“Oh.” Her frown returned. “Well, I wondered . . .” She glanced at her watch and then sat back abruptly. “Gosh, look at the time. I gotta be going. Julie will be home by now.” She got to her feet and settled her purse against her hip. “See you in two days. It’s been nice. Catching up, I mean.”

As he watched her hurry from the café, an aching sense of loss settled in his gut. For a while, just a little while, he’d forgotten how crushed he’d once been, forgotten that she’d done the crushing. He’d actually enjoyed her friendly interest, except for the couple of questions about his time in the sandbox. But she hadn’t pushed. She’d just listened. And she’d shared a little about her own life. About her daughter and about the insult visited on her by that asshole Eli.

They’d both been hurt since that crazy summer before the world woke up. Maybe friendship was all that was left at this place in their lives. Did he really want to cling to the old hurts and give up even that? Could he be happy with just friendship?

TWO DAYS LATER, at his now usual time just before the PT department closed for the day, the Gunny settled onto Elena’s treatment table. He’d come in wearing a dark green service uniform she hadn’t seen him wearing before now, but he’d already removed the jacket, the dress shirt underneath, and his tie. He waited for her, opening and closing his injured hand where it rested on his thigh. She glanced at the tie and wondered how he’d managed the knot.

“Good afternoon, Gunny,” she said as she approached the table.

He startled at the sound of her voice. “Ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Even for a southern boy, that sounded stiffly formal. Especially after they’d shared a cup of coffee and a few very personal revelations.

“I thought you wanted to keep these sessions strictly professional.” His gaze rose to meet hers even though his head remained bowed.

That way of gazing up at her with his head tipped down had always made her heart do funny things. And it did so now. She swallowed hard to banish the feeling.

“Everyone here just calls me Elena.”

“Then when I’m here, I’m not the gunny. I’m just a patient.” The corner of his mouth twitched and a hint of his dimple flashed. “And maybe a friend?”

Elena sighed. So much for keeping emotional distance and protecting her heart. It was her own fault. Catching up over a cup of coffee had been her idea. She just hadn’t realized how much that brief interlude would leave her yearning for so much more.

“Philip,” she acquiesced. His name, in spite of everything, still caused her heart to jump and warmth to spread in her chest. She swallowed again. “Would you mind removing your T-shirt?”

For a moment, his eyes darkened. Then, in a fluid one-handed motion, he grabbed the shirt behind his head and pulled it off.

“Oh, Philip!” She couldn’t keep the surge of dismay out of her voice. She touched the ugly scar running diagonally across the tattoo on his right shoulder blade. It slashed through the center of the globe and obliterated the word Semper. How many times had she outlined this tattoo with her fingers, admiring not so much the tattoo artist’s work but the smooth warm skin beneath it? Unable to stop the impulse, she did so now.

“Kind of ugly, huh?”

“It must have been painful. Is it still?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

Elena pointed to the smiley face chart on the wall. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“It’s just a little achy now and then. Honest. A one maybe.”

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Sorry to say, that’s about to change. We’re going to work with the shoulder today. But when we’re done, I’ll massage it and hopefully it won’t ache too much tonight.” Not as much as her heart was aching, anyway.

By the end of the hour, Philip’s complexion had turned pasty and sweat trickled down his face. He’d done everything she’d asked in spite of his obvious discomfort. She was the one who had to firm up her resolve and not pull her punches. She never liked inflicting pain on her patients, but doing so to Philip gutted her insides.

“Roll over on your stomach,” she ordered as she reached for a bottle of lotion. She began the promised massage, starting low on his back and working her way up. Taut, hard ridges of muscle stood out under the scarred skin, and she worked them over until they began to relax.

She ran her finger over a tattoo on his left bicep. A rifle stood barrel-down in a pair of boots with a helmet perched on the butt end. In honor of a lost comrade, of course. Someone he’d been close to. She had noticed it the first day, but hadn’t asked. She hadn’t wanted to care or think about any of his losses. But today she wanted to know.

“When did you get this one?”

“After my spotter got hit.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Familiar words. Easy to say and so inadequate.

He grunted but didn’t reply.

She went back to the massage. When the muscles were as relaxed as they were likely to get, she dropped the lotion back into the drawer, then slid her hands over his shoulders one last time to work the remaining lotion into his flesh.

“We’re done for today.” She backed away from the table so he could right himself.

“Thanks.” He hopped off the table and reached for his shirt.

With his back to her, he began putting it on, but the process of getting it on was not as swift and easy as getting it off. She reached out to tug the hem of the shirt down. Before she could offer to help him button the dress shirt, he moved out of reach.

“I got this.” He began the tedious task of working the buttons through the holes with his left hand.

Unable to watch the frustrating process, Elena turned away and straightened things on the table that did not need straightening.

“It’s only maybe a three,” he offered without being asked. “Thanks to your magic hands.” He gripped her shoulder briefly then let go.

She whipped around to see him loop the tie over his head and work the knot back up with his left hand.

“Who tied your tie for you?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

“A cute little LT in my office.” He grimaced. Then he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“See you on Friday,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hall.

Elena looked down at her hands, her magic hands, suddenly overwhelmed by the whole tug of emotions the last hour had visited on her. The smooth feel of his skin beneath her fingers. The tautly corded muscle. The sense of power and strength. The lure of his masculinity. The extent of his injuries and all the pain and loss they represented.

The last time she’d massaged those muscles, she’d been young and in love. He’d been almost as young and a lot more carefree. There had been no scar.

And no cute little LT in his life.