“You here is the best surprise I could ever have named. Dinner or not.” He loosely wrapped his arms around her waist and met his lips to hers.
“How was your day, dear?” she asked playfully.
“Perfect now.” He groaned a bit as he pulled her body full against him. “So what did I do to deserve this, so that I can be sure to do it again?”
Lacey’s eyes danced. “Oh, I think it was all those salutes you got during our tour yesterday. Something about watching people salute you gets me a little…”
“Turned on?” Mick offered helpfully.
“Mmm…”
“So, um, how much longer does it have to cook?”
“It’s ready now.”
“Damn,” he said. “Because so am I. But not for dinner.” With that, he kissed her again deeply, tracing his tongue lightly along her teeth and gently teasing her breasts with his light touch as his hands pushed past the apron. “This is like a Doris Day fantasy, you know.”
“Really? Aren’t you a little young to know anything about Doris Day?”
“Are you kidding? Every guy has his Doris Day fantasies,” he said, nimbly untying her apron and lifting it over her head. “The woman was timeless.” He planted a trail of kisses down her neck. “She was an icon.” He unbuttoned her top three buttons. “She was…” he cupped her breast in his hand and kissed it, “…not nearly as sexy as you are right now.”
Lacey whimpered, completely lost to him. Giving in to her own yearnings, she struggled to unbutton his uniform with her one free hand.
The sudden harsh sizzle of water boiling over into the flames had her rushing into the kitchen on pure instinct with Mick following.
“Pasta’s ready.” Laughter was in Mick’s voice.
Lacey let out a sigh of relief seeing her dinner was not ruined. “That was close. Now no more distractions, Commander,” she pointed the wooden spoon at him then licked the remains of the sauce from it.
“Then you’ll have to stop doing that.”
“What?” she said, taking another sample of the sauce.
“That.” His eyes were shaded with lust as he eyed the spoon she was lifting to her mouth.
Lacey figured it out. “Oh, you mean this?” Batting her lashes and tracing her tongue along the side of the spoon, she then sank the spoon full into her mouth and let out a seductive purr.
Mick’s lashes fell to half-mast. “Now I know why they call it a wooden spoon.”
Lacey grinned. “Bad joke. Now sit back and let me serve you.”
***
They managed to get a few bites of the meal in them before Mick swept her into his arms and took her on the rug in front of the fireplace at Lacey’s suggestion. The bedroom upstairs seemed too damn far at the time. She had needed to have him inside her, to feel his hands stroking her, caressing her, manipulating her into positions that made her blush even as she lay naked alongside him moments after.
They put another two helpings of the meal on plates and ate them—well, part of them—in front of the fire. But their meals grew cold again as he tempted her once more.
Hours later, they lay satiated in front of the fireplace, keeping warm despite the fading embers.
“I should put another log on,” Mick murmured, his face still buried in Lacey’s hair.
“Don’t go,” she objected, not anxious for their bodies to part. She locked her gaze on his in a plea and found herself lost in his steel blue eyes. There was a kind of soft joy in them tonight that made her wonder, even hope, that he was growing to love her, too.
Because yes, she loved him. She laughed a little, imagining Maeve and Bess rubbing it in that they were right. They had known before she did.
Mick smiled, a little warily. “What?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s funny? You were laughing a moment ago.”
Lacey shook her head dismissively. “Nothing. Just funny how life is sometimes.” She adjusted her body to nestle her head against his chest. The reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her.
Relishing the feel of her skin moving against his, she reached above their heads and pulled the shirt from his uniform closer. She traced the edges of the emblems and ribbons that were a mystery to her, just as he still was in so many ways. “What do all these mean, Mick?”
“Hmm?”
“These bars and symbols. What do they all mean?”
Mick pulled the shirt over to him and started naming them off as though they were menu items. “Well, these oak leaves on the collar tell people my rank is Lieutenant Commander. And these two ribbons are for expert pistol and expert rifle.” He adjusted his weight as he took the shirt in his other hand. “This is my Sea Service Deployment ribbon with bronze stars for the number of tours, and then this is my Overseas Deployment Ribbon with a silver star for five tours and a bronze star for one more. This is for Southwest Asia service three separate times.”