A Hero’s Pride(3)
She stared at the evening sky and sighed. When she glanced at him he was staring at her lips. They really needed to talk or someone was going to get attacked, and she had a feeling it would be him. As a form of distraction, she placed the napkin over her lap and fiddled with it, taking her sweet time before she glanced back up. It was a poor way to keep herself in the chair and stop her brain from imagining tearing off his shirt and checking out his naked body.
“Sorry, this is new to me.” She gulped. “Did you have to be harassed into being here tonight too?” She joked, hoping the question would calm her racing heart, her throbbing sex, and his hungry glances.
He chuckled. “Actually, I chose to be here. Didn’t you?”
She licked her lips and scrunched her nose. “No. I mean, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “What I am trying to say is that I chose to be here, but I’ve never been on a blind date before…so this is kind of weird.”
By the time she finished talking, she was feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. What in the world possessed her to tell him this was her first blind date?
“Don’t worry. This is my first blind date too.” He licked his lips and stared at her mouth.
Damn. He wasn’t making it any easier for her to stop thinking of sex. Lots of sex. With Thor-look-a-like Ryan. Her mind was clearly in the gutter.
“Well, at least you don’t have a mother trying to set you up with half the male population in the U.S. and Europe.” She grimaced. “I had to agree to this, or my mother would have made me one of her surprise dinners where every eligible bachelor she knew just happened to attend.”
He laughed. “My family hadn’t gone that far. And I would have had major problems with them if they’d thrown me a dinner with a bunch of men to choose from.”
She giggled. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I love the sound of your laugh.”
“Thank you… So why did your family set you up on a blind date?”
He shrugged. “They think I’ve been alone long enough.”
“What do you think?”
He pierced her with his gaze. The smile slid off his face, slowly. “I wouldn’t mind meeting someone I can start a relationship with. As long as she is understanding to some things about me that are…different.”
She was about to ask what he meant when the waiter appeared and filled her wine glass again. She waited until he was gone before going back to the conversation.
“So I understand you’re in the military?”
Strings of soft lights turned on above their heads, giving a romantic glow to the evening. “I am.”
That was it? Some conversation. “What do you do exactly?” She didn’t know anything particular about his position, only that he’d been in Afghanistan and had returned home injured.
“I’m in the army. Special Forces.” He glanced away from her. She noticed a gloominess take over his face. “At least I used to be.”
“So were you discharged?”
“Not exactly.”
She stared at his face. He clenched his jaw hard. She wondered why it bothered him to answer such simple questions.
Curiosity. The worst of her personality traits made itself known. She had a hard time letting things go and tended to ask a million and one questions until she was satisfied she understood the situation. Her parents nicknamed her Snoopy because she just kept digging until she had found out everything she wanted on whatever interested her. “So what exactly was it?”
“I’m out on medical leave.”
Oh, yes. The injury that had brought him home. And she was about to start her inquisition. He would probably tell her off soon, but she was way too interested not to ask the stuff popping into her head. “So what happened?”
He jerked back to face her. Was that anger in his eyes? No, it was something else. Distress?
He gulped and looked at her straight in the eyes. “I lost my leg.”
“Okay.”
Did that mean he couldn’t have his same position? Special Ops sounded kind of…well kind of badass. But maybe just being able to walk didn’t mean he could do the job. Maybe he still wasn’t physically capable of doing the job anymore. “Sue did say that you had suffered an injury. But why can’t you go back? Did they find you mentally unstable?” She asked, bewildered. “Why couldn’t you do your job again?”
He frowned. “No, I’m mentally stable. But as I said, I lost my leg.” Leaning forward on the table, he continued to stare her down. “I have a prosthetic on my right side from below my knee.”
“Okay. So are prosthetics not allowed in the Special Forces?”
“I don’t think in my team it would be. The group is under a lot of physical pressure so we needed to be in top physical shape.”
“Wait, you don’t know?” She was surprised.
“I’m pretty sure.” His voice firmed.
“Pretty sure isn’t 100% sure.” She smiled.
“I see what you’re trying to do, but really, it wouldn’t work.”
“How do you know? Maybe it would. Maybe they’ll reconsider?”
“Not the group I was with.” He did a slow roll of his shoulders. “I can’t go back.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand why not.” Kayla still didn’t understand what his problem was. “Have they been discriminating against you?” Fury filled her instantly.
He shook his head, eyes wide as if in shock. “No. But it would be extremely difficult to go back to the team. I would have to do something different if I wanted to stay in the force. Things are much, much harder to do with a prosthetic.”
“But not impossible.” It took her a moment to comprehend what was happening. He pitied himself, and that just wouldn’t do. “Do you realize how many people go through injuries every day, not just in the military but in the world in general?” Her accent thickened with each word. “I have been to Africa and South America and have seen men, women and children with missing limbs working hard in fields just to make a few cents to eat. Most of them can’t afford a prosthetic. They have to make do at living life with what they have left. And sometimes, they had very little to begin with” Sadness worked its way into her voice.
He stared at her quietly. She wondered what was going through his mind. “You don’t seem to understand,” he ground out. A vein in the side of his cheek caught her attention when it quivered.
“Bullshit.”
Chapter Three
“What?” Incredulity and annoyance covered his face. Too bad. Kayla had never been one to hold back.
She waited for the waiter who had materialized out of nowhere to refill their glasses to leave. Once the server disappeared again, she continued where she’d left off. “I said that’s bullshit. You pity yourself.” Kayla saw that this big, sexy man was letting a physical condition stop him from living the life he wanted, and it bothered her. She didn’t know why she insisted, but his eyes spoke of pain and suffering. Her first impression of him was that he was a nice guy. That was not the norm in the men she dated. For crying out loud he’d been in the war fighting for their country. So how could she allow him to continue living with so much insecurity?
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wow. But she pushed some more. She became Kayla Santomas, child psychologist. “Oh, I most certainly do.”
“What do you know about almost dying and losing a leg in the war?” His voice turned cool and somewhat distant.
Kayla leaned forward, smiling softly at him like she did with the troubled, insecure children she counseled. “About war? I know nothing.” She admitted with a small shrug. Before he got a chance to say anything smug, she held up a hand and stopped him. “But about survival, I know everything. And you’re looking for excuses to withdraw from the rest of the world.” She placed her hand over his fisted one on the table.
“I am not.” He gulped down half the glass of champagne, clearly uncomfortable. Unsure if she should continue or not, she decided to speak freely, damn the consequences. It looked to her like he needed to hear what she was saying. “Something tells me you’ve gotten stuck on the loss of your leg. So stuck that you probably haven’t even given thought to what other jobs you can do if you aren’t able to return to your previous position.”
The flush of guilt on his face said it all. She felt a little bad that she was making him see things he may not be ready to. There was no backing down now. He was a strong man. He exuded power, strength, and authority. She saw command in his frame, his look, and the way he carried himself. Yes, he’d survived a physical hardship, but he needed to move on.
He scowled. Something more than sexual interest shone in his eyes. “What do you do for a living, Kayla?”
She let the question hang while they ordered their meal from the magic waiter who had reappeared again.
“I’m a psychologist.” She grinned.
Oh boy. Sparks lit his eyes, and he almost choked on his drink. He was clearly putting two and two together and coming up with six. Better clear up any misconceptions before her night of hot sex was messed up. And now that she’d been kissed by Ryan, there was no denying it, she wanted more than those breathtaking kisses from him. She wanted coma-inducing orgasms. “A child psychologist,” she added. “I specialize in children with deformities and terminal illnesses.”