Read Between Duty and Desire for Free Online Page B

understand soon enough,” he said as he reluctantly set her down on the sand. He didn’t want her to know he was hard. She would think he was a pervert.
    Her teeth chattered and her nipples puckered against her tank top. “I don’t like being told what’s best for me.”
    It took all the self-discipline Brock possessed to lift his gaze from her small breasts. “As soon as you realize what’s best for you, then nobody will need to tell you.”
    She scowled and turned away from him. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
    “Start acting like it then,” he dared her.
    She did a double take. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean start acting like a grown woman.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a long, considering glance. “I don’t agree with your methods, but you may be kinda right.”
    “Kinda?” he asked.
    “Okay, mostly. I probably should start acting like a grown woman, a live grown woman.”
    He nodded. “Yep.”
    She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yep. Even if it kills me.”
    Or kills me, he thought, as he watched her turn and treat him to the inviting sight of her backside encased in nearly transparent white shorts. Her underwear looked like it was a light lilac color. Brock felt himself harden again and groaned. If this was supposed to be the cure for his ravaged conscience, he wondered if boiling himself in water would be easier.
    “I think you should start by going to a bar,” Brock said that evening. He’d always been told the best way to get over a woman was to go to a bar, drink too many beers and meet a new woman. He figured the reverse would be true for Callie.
    Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, she shook her head. “No. That’s like stealing home before you go to first, second or third base. I thought a nice quiet trip to the library—”
    He shook his head. “Nope. Too solitary. The objective is to get you back and involved with humans, not books.”
    She made a face and sighed. “I agree that I need to get out more, to try to have more of a life, if for no other reason than my art. You’re right. I’ve isolated myself. But I want to take it slowly at first. There’s this cute little restaurant that serves all these different kinds of teas—”
    Brock rolled his eyes. For Pete’s sake, punitive night drills during boot camp had been easier than this. They negotiated for another five minutes and finally decided on a trip to the grocery store.
    “Pitiful,” he muttered under his breath as she pushed the cart through the produce section. “Pitiful.”
    “Hey, don’t knock it. This is the first time I’ve been to a real grocery store in ages. You have to crawl before you can walk. Oh, look. Fresh peaches. I love fresh peaches.”
    “I know,” Brock said and chuckled when she stuck out her tongue at him.
    “Okay, smarty-pants, what’s your favorite fruit?”
    “Cherries,” he said.
    “No surprise there,” she said dryly. “Given your way with the ladies.”
    He dropped his jaw in mock surprise. “I’m shocked that your mind would sink so low. My mother baked a great cherry pie. I usually had cherry pie for my birthday instead of cake. And my grandmother had a cherry tree in her backyard.”
    “Oops. Sorry. It was a natural connection tomake—cherries, ladies.” Her cheeks bloomed. “Or not. Tell me about this pie your mother used to make. Did she make the crust from scratch? I never could figure out how to make a good crust.”
    He nodded, swallowing his humor over her chatty effort to cover her gaffe. “She made the whole thing from scratch. I have the recipe and I can make it.”
    Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re kidding. You can bake a cherry pie from scratch?”
    “Yeah. What’s so unbelievable about that?”
    She shrugged her shoulders. “You just don’t seem the domestic type.”
    “I’m not, but I don’t like to starve. And I don’t get home much anymore, so if I want hot cherry pie, I