Her Marine Read Free

chill-laced tingles dancing over her skin. This is why I’m here. The big, brilliant plan to get over the fear of being touched. God, does he have to keep holding my hand ?
    She fought the urge to jerk her fingers free as the moments he held her hand threatened to lengthen. Not fidgeting was harder than she ever imagined. Thankfully, a waitress chose that moment to glide up to them. Brody’s mouth quirked into a small smile for the woman, but he barely looked at her.
    “Lieutenant Essex, Miss Fabray, your table is ready.”
    Lieutenant . Like a light bulb swinging on a solitary chain, the accent, the dress and even his posture made so much more sense. He was military. Likely active military if the waitress wasn’t calling him mister.
    Sucking her lower lip, Shannon tasted the chocolate raspberry lip-gloss she’d decorated her mouth with as an afterthought. She hated make up and rarely bothered to mess with her hair. If Jeanine hadn’t insisted on coming over to the studio before her date, she’d probably have shown up in jeans, a T-shirt and her hair in a ponytail. As it was, the deep purple slacks and blousy black top with ties gathered snug around her too small breasts offered a different illusion. Her black velvet ballet flats skipped the need to balance ridiculously on heels altogether. She spent too many hours of her day barefoot to try and torture herself in heels.
    “Shall we?” Brody’s voice nudged her out of her ruminations and a guilty flush heated up the chill on her skin. She stood, staring at him.
    Nodding, she finally dragged her gaze away and followed after the waitress. Brody closed the gap behind her, the warmth of him teasing her spine as they weaved around the crowded room to a small table tucked comfortably against the wall. The high-backed booth gave them a suggestion of privacy, but they could still see the stage.
    Brody waited until she was seated, giving her a long considering look before sliding into the opposite side of the booth. She’d sat near the edge, not allowing him any room to join her on her side of the half round. Should she have scooted over?
    Indecision tangled with self-preservation. She’d shaken his hand, which was a solid first step. Maybe waiting before he touched her again was a good idea. But even as that thought cemented in her mind, his leg brushed hers beneath the table.
    She froze. The hard length of male calf seemed to burn right through the layers of clothing separating them. The heat seeped in, chasing the chill, and sent an entirely different wave of tingles dancing across her nerve endings.
    “Would you like something to drink? Or to hear about the specials?”
    “I’ll take a beer, whatever you have on draft is fine.” Brody’s words may have been aimed at the waitress, but his gaze locked on Shannon’s and a wrinkle of worry formed between his brows.
    Alcohol right now would be a bad idea . Her insides shredded, torn between the desire to bolt and the desire to touch. Stop it. He hasn’t done anything to threaten you or make you feel bad. Just order a damn drink already .
    “Actually, could I get a latte? With cinnamon?”
    If Brody was surprised by her order, he didn’t show it. The waitress nodded, but she kept looking at him anyway. The waitress moistened her lips. The woman’s blatant interest annoyed Shannon. But he hadn’t looked up or taken his eyes off of her.
    “Are you all right?” His voice sent all kinds of shivery prickles through her.
    “No. Yes. Um….” Mortification punched through the words. Heat swept up her cheeks and she clenched her hands on the table to keep from covering her face with them.
    “Can I take D, all of the above then?” Compassion eased the words, but his gaze never wavered nor lost its sober, serious gleam.
    “I’m sorry, I’m not usually this batty.” God, she should go in the bathroom and smack herself. The man sitting across from her was gorgeous. But it wasn’t just the contours of his face or the