Serving the Soldier - Part 1 (An Alpha Military Romance)

Serving the Soldier - Part 1 (An Alpha Military Romance) Read Free Page A

Book: Serving the Soldier - Part 1 (An Alpha Military Romance) Read Free
Author: Helen Grey
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painted in a soft green with thick white crown molding at the ceiling line, wainscoting along the middle, and a small print patterned forest green wallpaper between the wainscoting and the four-inch baseboard molding. The floors were highly polished walnut or mahogany, I wasn’t sure which. An old-fashioned four-poster bed, heavy dresser, side tables, and a desk filled up the space without seeming too overcrowded. All of the furniture looked decades-old, but highly polished and well maintained.
    “I hope this will be suitable for you,” he said.
    I nodded. “It’s just fine, thank you,” I said, turning to him. “I’m going out to the car to get my things, and then maybe in a little while we can sit down and chat and get acquainted, okay?”
    He gave me another one of his inscrutable looks and then nodded. “You’re the boss.”
    I didn’t believe it for a minute.
    He gestured over a shoulder toward his office space down the hall. “I’ll be in there. I’d offered to help you with your luggage, but I’ve been warned,” he said.
    His lips twisted with sarcasm and a flash of frustration or impatience, I couldn’t tell which, marred his otherwise perfect face. “No worries, I don’t have much, just a small suitcase on wheels and a backpack. You go on about your business. I’ll find you.” Again, he gazed down at me, his eyes studying my face. For a brief instant, I wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in his embrace, and then shook my head. What the hell was I thinking? He’s my client. A patient. No doubt about it, this situation would take some getting used to.
    ***
    Less than an hour later, I had finished unpacking. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of Jax anywhere during that time. It felt awkward. Was he against the live-in situation or just the fact that he required a full-time nurse while he recuperated? Was his sense of pride injured as severely as his body?
    I knew the military mindset. I had grown up on numerous military bases during my growing up years and had been immersed in the military life forever. I classified the younger guys into two groups; mainly jerks who bragged endlessly about real or imagined exploits, or the quiet ones. Some were in the middle, but I immediately got the impression that Jax belonged to the latter group.
    He had no visible tattoos emblazoned on his body announcing to the world what he did, but I wasn’t surprised about that. Delta Force often engaged in clandestine missions and having a tattoo designating your military affiliation wasn’t highly encouraged. Anyway, I had yet to spend five solid minutes with the guy.
    After I unpacked, I looked around the room, once again admiring the décor. The bed was super comfortable. I had already tested it. In fact, I stared at it longingly for a moment, wishing I could lie down and rest for a few minutes.
    With a sigh, I moved to the bedroom window. The window looked out into the back yard. It was landscaped as beautifully as the front yard; a kidney shaped, sparkling blue swimming pool surrounded by huge granite or whatever type stone slabs, a rose garden off to the right, lawns with flower or shrub edgings on the other sides, and beyond the pool, a tennis court. Whoever the house belonged to, they were loaded.
    I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned again toward the swimming pool. My eyes widened and I gasped out loud when I saw Jax approaching the pool. What was he up to? Moments later, I found out. He yanked down his swimming trunks, bending slowly as he stepped out of them. He stood at the edge of the pool while I fought to tame my erratic pulse. Crap. He was gorgeous… those broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waistline and buttocks that just made me want to reach out and squeeze them. Strong thighs, well defined calf muscles—
    “Wait!” I nearly shouted, quickly turning from the window and hurrying from my room. He couldn’t go swimming, not with the incision. Dammit! Which way should I go

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