12
12
THIRD BASE
T he next night Ranger had the audacity to send for me again. I sent Smitty away, citing a cold. Twenty minutes later a covered cart, with a tray of chicken soup, came rolling into my room. It was accompanied, not with the salty white squares I used to spread peanut butter on, but with rectangles of seeded crackers so hard you could chip a tooth.
Did he not know me at all?
Boiled chicken broth, floating with orange chunks that looked like beaks but was probably just carrots, and some birdseed would not buy me off. It, like the tea tray, remained untouched. (Except for the crackers. Those Mikey and I took down to the lake to feed Donald and his pals the next day.)
“Katie, Ranguh wants me to ask you how long you’wer gonna stay mad for.” This, in GAP before lunch.
I huffed out some air. “As long as it takes for him to apologize.”
I took Mikey’s hand, the doughy contours still a comforting sweetness to me— something unchanged by the Academy. They’d started him on speech therapy—a fight I’d lost with Ranger.
“Okay, I’ll tell him to do that then. That’s easy. After he ‘pologizes, yo’re stiwl gonna marry him, right?”
A thin smile lifted my lips. Thinner than the rays of sun fighting through the omnipresent layers of clouds. “Of course.”
“And I’m stiwl gonna be ring wearer, w-right?”
My smile grew. “Right.”
“What do they do again?” Mikey was unaccountably nervous about his role in our wedding.
“They carry the rings down the aisle and give them to us at the right time.”
He let out a huge gust of excitement. “I can’t wait! Then Ranguh’s gonna be my brothuh, wight?”
My heart squeezed for the hope and joy this idea filled him with. Dr. D was right: I needed to make this marriage work. I kneeled down to Mikey’s level. “What does Ranger always call you?”
“Widdle Mac.”
I smiled. “Yes, but lately, besides that?”
His smile burst into a grin. “My brothuh from anothuh mothuh.” Fits of giggles always followed this new nickname.
“That’s right. That’s exactly how you should think of him. As a brother-from-another-mother.”
Mikey’s ears glowed pink with pleasure. I decided whatever olive branch Ranger offered today, I would accept. I mean, it’s not like this was a real marriage. It was more like a favor he was doing for me, the sister of his brother-from-another-mother. Protection and a better life for us here. I’d start giving him gratitude instead of attitude. So I accepted his dinner invite for Friday night. Mikey was already at the movie with all of his little buddies when he came to collect me.
“Looks like third times a charm,” Ranger joked, waltzing in. He was wearing dark jeans, black sweater and boots, and a jacket draped over his arm like a gentleman.
This elicited a smirk-smile from me. “Let me get my coat.”
“How’s that cold?” he called after my retreating back.
“It was a twenty-four-hour bug,” I quipped from the confines of my closet.
He chuckled appreciatively. “Good to hear that.”
Ranger helped me into my coat, a camel-colored affair that he super-cinched me into. His hands remained suspended around my waist as he bent his head to my ear. “Now we can make out on the couch,” he whispered before nuzzling my neck.
I gave him a half-smile while he worked on my neck, a weak spot on me he shamelessly exploited. “You think I’m that easy?” I worked to modulate my voice.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “No, but I have a few things up my sleeve.”
“Got candy stuffed up there?”
He laughed. “Nah. You’re sweet enough.”
I huffed out a chuckle.
“Come on, Shorty.” He took me by the hand. “We’re gonna be late. And I want to get back to watch the game.”
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m not short . . . above regulation height, actually. Everyone just appears short compared to you.” We exited my building and began strolling down the flagstone path as the last fiery embers of sun disappeared behind the brick barracks.
He flashed me his dimples. “It’s a new nickname I’m trying out . . . Shorty. Isn’t that what all your hip-hop peeps call their ladies?”
I laughed out loud at that one. Ranger was in a rare good mood. It was hard not to get caught up in it. He was joking around almost as easily as someone else I knew. A pang. I hoped it wouldn’t linger and spoil the mood.
We didn’t go far for dinner, meandering through the charming streets of Sausalito, where we stopped in front of a quiet little Italian restaurant with white tablecloths and low-burning red candles. Mr. Nealson held a reservation that wove us around to a climbing green vine and lattice-decorated portion of the dining room, to a table almost hidden from view. He helped me off with my coat.
“Would you like me to check that, Mr. Nealson?” A red-lipped, raven-haired hostess inquired.
I noted that she flashed quite a bit of cleavage with her smile and that Ranger didn’t even peek.
“Please.” He handed it off to her and helped me into a chair.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled down at me before moving around to his seat. “I love what you’re wearing tonight, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We shared an amused smile. About a half minute of dead air followed this.
He broke the silence with: “That zipper’s gonna drive me crazy all night.”
I looked down with a smile. He was referring to my shirt—an extremely fitted YSL white one with a zipper down the front. I had it tucked into a doe-colored leather skirt (that I sincerely hoped didn’t come from an actual deer).
“And I’m glad to see you’re wearing at least one piece of jewelry I’ve given you,” he teased.
My hand flew to my neck to readjust my cross. I didn’t make a comment about the missing ring, just giving a small ironic smile. He chuckled, knowing I wanted to be wooed. Our waiter came by with the day’s specials. He recommended a wine Ranger dismissed in favor of an “Italian Bordolino” because “it would pair better with the truffled ravioli” he’d ordered for both of us.
Ranger spoke for a while about tannins and bold, earthy flavors of cherry and swirls of mocha. I just nodded at him like that made perfect sense. I knew zilch about wine. Not even sure if the bottle he’d ordered would come out red or white.
“How do you know so much about wine?” It was as good a place to start as anywhere.
“I live in Northern California,” he pointed out.
“Right.” I nodded. I did know we weren’t far from vineyards.
“I’ll take you to Sonoma one weekend. Take you to a couple of vineyards.” He spread his hands wide. “Great food. Excellent wine.”
I spread my lips wide. “Sounds nice.”
He smiled back . . . until I reached for the delicious smelling breadbasket, and then it turned upside down. “You’re having pasta for dinner” was the only reason I got for that frown. I put it back and drummed my fingers on the white tablecloth while waiting for my salad.
Conversation centered around the game that was coming on tonight. He wanted me to watch it with him. Some big rivalry with the Dodgers that had him fired up. While he went on about the Giants, I was learning bupkus about my future husband. Any personal question was deflected, curtly answered, or sidestepped completely. I gave up and decided to use the ladies’ room to go yawn. I would give him a fail in the wooing department tonight. Ranger rose to his feet, and I felt his eyes follow my progression through the romantic restaurant. Upon my return, I saw a fizzy glass of champagne was waiting for me.
I raised eyebrows. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, Officer?”
He laughed. “Well, candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.”
I laughed and sat down, returning my napkin to my lap. When I glanced back up, my missing engagement ring was lying in the bottom of my glass. He must’ve slipped it in when I sat down. I pursed my lips to keep my smile spreading.
Ranger leaned over, his face lit up with humor. “Whatdoy’say, Shorty . . . marry me? Again.”
Something stirred in my chest. He was trying. I nodded. When I found my voice, it was husky. “This is an infinitely better way to propose than last time.” My ring had arrived via SAP with a note attached: Let no one say I didn’t put a ring on it.
“Well, practice makes perfect,” he responded with a grin, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “And speaking of that, hurry up and drink that down . . . I’m ready to practice some other stuff with you.” He followed that up with some salacious eyes.
I blushed. He smirked. I drank. We bolted. He confiscated my hand, with the flashing diamond, and led me out of the restaurant. Except when driving, he held it the whole way back to his place. He was trying. I would too. I owed him that. My life. Mikey’s. Maybe I should take Dr. D’s advice? I resolved to put her son out of my mind for the remainder of the evening to focus on my future husband.
An hour later, we were reclining together on his low sofa, watching the Giants beat up on the Dodgers. A couple of bad calls got Ranger fired up. After yelling at the screen, he pushed his sleeves up in frustration. I ran a restless hand over his newly exposed forearm, enjoying the tactile feel of his prickly hair. It was starting to feel a little less foreign to touch him. Like a larger than life action hero you realized was just an actor. Now that I wasn’t so intimidated, I decided to try using my feminine wiles to get some straight answers out of him. Heck, I’d settle for crooked answers I could straighten out later. And anyhow, my buzz felt wasted on a boring, old baseball game.
I leaned against him, and he took his cue by wrapping his arm around me. “Ranger . . .”
He leaned forward to yell at the screen, dumping me out of his lap. So much for subtlety. Maybe I should try my hand at seduction again? Couldn’t go worse than last time. I thought of my fiancé’s words at dinner: Practice makes perfect.
During a commercial, he leaned over to kiss me. I surprised him by winding my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a deep one. This elicited a good response, so I shocked him by lifting my leg and straddling his lap. He penetrated my pupils with his neons. Well now, I couldn’t take that for a second, so I forced another kiss out of him. I felt a smile form on his lips while I worked them apart.
“What are you up to, Shorty?”
“Tryin’ my hand at seducin’ you again.”
I felt as much as heard a deep rumble from his chest. “I already put a ring on it,” he said. “What else you want from me?” He palmed my butt, one cheek in each hand, pushing me into his groin. “If you want to skip ahead to the honeymoon part, just say so.” He took my mouth in a long, passionate kiss that had me feeling pretty fired up. His mouth moved to my neck while his hand slid down the zipper of my shirt. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he murmured, following the line of the zipper with his lips. He nipped at my breast over my lacy bra.
I gasped and threw my head back, pushing into him to feel his growing need. Good Lord. Rock hard. That scared me straight. I pushed at his chest, but he held me firm. “How come it’s so easy to seduce you now?” I wondered aloud.
“Mind over matter,” he smirked, pulling my mouth to his again.
I gave a little moan—half resignation, half pleasure. Meanwhile, sneaky hands snuck around to untuck my shirt, while my inept ones tried, and failed, to stop him. I was quickly losing control of the situation.
“Hey!” I broke off the kiss. “What happened to mind over matter? I wanna talk to you.”
“Hmmm?” he mumbled, nuzzling into my breasts before reaching around to unhook my bra.
“Hey.” I grabbed a fistful of coarse black hair and pulled his head back.
He growled in protest and cupped me closer. I tried to climb off, but it was like trying to get out of a Houdini death-trap. “I was tryin’ to seduce you like a spy, so I could get intel outta you,” I admitted.
He muffled my next thought with a lingering kiss that made me momentarily lose my train of thought. I planted my palms on his scruffy scoundrel face and pulled away. “How come you weren’t this easy last time?” I accused. “Can I retake the test? Feel like I would pass with flyin’ colors tonight.”
I caught a whiff of something naughty flash in his eyes. “ What?” I demanded. “What’s that look?”
He shook his head, fighting a wayward grin.
“Tell me.” I palmed his face back to mine so I could stare into his eyes.
He sighed and averted his gaze, like I was a human retina scanner. Which I guess I was. While I waited him out for an explanation, he ran his hand up my leg, hitching my skirt up my thigh.
“Why won’t you tell me anything? ” I vented. “You’re so secretive all the time!” I waited for something . . . got nothing but more making out and mauling. Arg ! I huffed out an exasperated sigh and removed one leg from around him.
“Fine,” he sighed, pulling me back. “I cheated last time.”
“What? How?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips. “I choked the anaconda.”
“ What? ”
He demonstrated an obscene gesture with his hand. Oh.
“I can’t believe you did that!” I splatted my palms against his chest.
“Of course, I did that. All male officers who administer the test do that. If not, then we’d find ourselves in the very situation I’m in now.” He motorboated between my breasts: “Whadoy’wanna know? . . . I’ll tell you anything.”
I had to giggle. “Stop!” I tried yanking my shirt closed, but his hands simply went up my skirt instead. “Ranger! You promised we’d wait.”
He drew in a deep breath and let out a growl. “I didn’t promise we’d stop at second base . . . I’m a homerun kinda guy.” He bit his lip, mischievous brow lifting after this announcement. He followed up by rubbing his thumbs across my nipples.
I drew in a sharp breath, feeling my face flush and my resolve weaken. “Raaanger!” I whined.
“Let’s barter for it,” he suggested, gripping my waist to pull me into a delicious grind.
Oh gah! Why did that feel so good?
“Three questions,” he said. “And then I get to round third base tonight.”
“ What? No way!”
“Okay. Then my lips are sealed.” He mimed zipping his lips although he couldn’t prevent his smile.
Arg. “Wait. What’s third base again?”
Tip of his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth, he ran his finger up my thigh in a lascivious way. Then he caught the corner of my underwear and tugged, biting down on his lip while lifting his eyebrows. He finished this fun, little charade off with a devilish grin.
Gah! He was pretty hot, and I was getting that way too. But I was a spy girl on a mission, so I just laughed and pulled his hand away. “Uh-uh. No way, buddy boy. I’ve noticed how you keep creepin’ closer and closer to the finish line. We’re gettin’ married in less than two months, and I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”
Ranger drew in a deep breath, releasing a long sigh of frustration. He rested the back of his head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. When he returned his eyes to mine, he was a little more serious. “Fine. I’ll answer three questions. Fire away.”
“Ten,” I countered.
He shook his head and hitched me closer. “Five.”
“Done.” I was happy with five. I grinned triumphantly.
“But . . .” He traced my bottom lip with his finger, running it straight between my breasts all the way down past my navel. “I get to round third base tonight.”
I shook my head and gripped his wrist. “Uh-uh.”
“What are you so afraid of? That you won’t want to stop?”
“No,” I lied.
“Then let me. We’re going to be man and wife.” He slowly ran his other hand up the inside of my thigh. “Come on, Katie-Kat . . . you know you want to.”
“Fine!” I snapped.
“Really?” He grinned at me as joyous as Mikey when I brought him a new toy.
“But . . .” I held up a finger. I was a quick study of how this bartering system worked. “Only if you can seduce me into it. I’m gonna give you a dose of your own medicine,” I said with a vengeful smile. “You have . . . what was it you gave me? Ten minutes to do it.”
He slow spread his smile, flashing his dimples at me. “Done. I’ll even stack the odds in your favor . . . I won’t even touch third base unless you beg me to. You’re calling all the shots.”
I snorted. “You’re in for a looong ten minutes.”
He smirked, as confident as ever; I smirked back. “Game on,” he said.
“Let’s shake on it,” I said. And we did, one firm shake.
“Alright, Katie-Kat, you’re up to bat.”
I settled myself back into my straddle position so I could stare at him, eye-to-eye. “How come you didn’t want me to know about you workin’ on your PHD in psychology?”
He sighed, the humor slipping from his face. “I guess because it’s a private ambition . . . for after all this is over. Can’t be a spy forever. Another perk of The Academy is free education. So, during my furlough, I take courses here as they’re offered. Now I’ve advanced to the point I’m doing online courses at Columbia to finish my degree.”
I rubbed at his arm while he talked. When he stopped, I stopped. “What made you decide on psychology?”
“That’s already two questions.”
I frowned at him. “It’s a part I, part II question.”
He blew out some frustration. “Because I find it interesting. My father got his start in behavioral science . . . I guess I caught the bug.”
I nodded, wanting more, but more was not forthcoming. I noticed when he spoke of his father, his face went dark. I wasn’t in the mood to lighten it. “Why did you go into Norma’s Diner that afternoon? It wasn’t part of the mission, right?”
To my surprise, half a lip lifted at the memory. “Technically no.” A pause. “I guess it was morbid curiosity . . . meet the daughter of the woman who ruined my father’s life.” He paused again, and I made a face. He continued on. “I guess hassle you a little.” He rubbed a hard finger down my arm. “Make it harder for Davenport to do his job: two birds, one stone.”
I just nodded thoughtfully. There was so much I wanted to know. “Was that the first time you’d ever seen me?” Something about his expression made me catch my breath.
“No,” he answered truthfully.
I waited. And then waited some more.
“Next question.” A hard edge.
I decided to change subjects again, because I felt like he was right on the verge of dumping me off his lap and calling it a night. “Okay . . .” I rubbed at his chest as though I could rub that look off his face. “What’s your number?”
He cocked his head to the side. “What number?”
I plucked at his sweater. “You know . . . your number. ” He still looked confused, so I blurted: “How many girls?”
“Oh.” Realization dawned on him, relieving me with a change of expression— his signature smirk-smile. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”
He shook his head, throwing his hands out.
“Don’t all you guys have some mysterious belt y’all are always notchin’?” I persisted.
He relieved me some more by more laughing. “’fraid not.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he held up his palms. “I swear to you. I don’t know.”
My eyes widened in alarm. He was telling the truth. The number was that high? As if in answer to my question, he shrugged his shoulders and smirked, somewhat sheepishly this time.
“Okay, last question,” he said, visibly getting impatient with our little game.
“What? No! You didn’t answer that one.”
“I did. And honestly I might add.”
“But that’s not fair.”
“Nobody said I had to play fair,” he teased, but I felt a flash of something more significant, like it was some kind of motto for how he lived his life. I was pensive a moment, and must’ve been staring too hard, because he shook me a little.
“Last question,” he commanded sternly.
Or maybe he just wanted to hurry and get to the second portion of our little game, because his hands began roving again.
“Um . . .” I searched my brain, but it was hard to concentrate with tickling fingers running up my legs.
“Come on,” he prompted. “I thought you had twenty questions.”
He started to pull me into another kiss, when I blurted, “Blondes or brunettes?”
He barked a laugh. “You’re really wasting your last question on that?” He began urging my hips and my lips forward again, but I pushed against his chest. “Come on, blondes or brunettes?”
“I don’t have a preference,” he said.
I waggled my finger at him. “That’s a lie.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “I’d like to think of myself as an equal opportunity lover.”
I laughed at that one before pressing on. “Say you had to pick.”
He sighed and looked up as though debating. “Okay then . . . brunettes all the way. Times up. My turn.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” I blocked his roving hands and stared directly into his eyes. “Why are you marrying me?”
“That’s number 6,” he said.
“One didn’t count,” I reminded him.
He sighed, clearly done with our little game. “This one’s gonna cost you.”
A delicious thrill ran up my spine. “Just tell me . . . Why are you?”
“To keep you out of trouble, or more specifically out of missions,” he automatically answered.
I saw flickers of something else shining from his eyes, but he closed them against me. He hitched me into his groin again. “That and to get into your pants, of course.”
Lightning quick, he spun me around, so that my back was flat against the couch. He leaned over and kissed me with the kind of kiss that let me know he meant business. My heart skittered wildly in my chest. I thought I was in for it right there, but he set me aside, clicked off the game and on his playlist. Sultry music wafted over us. He rose to his feet and offered his hand, palm up. I swallowed and put my hand in his. He pulled me from the couch, and I obediently followed him into his bedroom. This was a place I’d only cursorily looked over on the first grand tour. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t nearly as big and scary as in my memories, somewhat just like him. It did have a king-sized bed, befitting its occupant. No nonsense white sheets and matching bedspread, a couple of small prints I would hazard to guess were a collector’s starter-kit. There was also a killer view of the grassland beyond the razor wire, stretching to the California coastline.
I paused near his bed, and his hands circled my waist from behind. He leaned over to nip at my neck—something that was beginning to become a problem with me. My heart began pounding in my chest.
“Ten minutes, remember,” I squeaked as I clutched the flaps of my shirt together.
He wound me around and smiled knowingly before leaning down to fasten his lips to mine. He worked my lips over softly before picking up momentum in a kiss that left me reeling. He hitched me into him as we kissed again. I made a noise in the back of my throat that elicited a smile from him. My hands fumbled around his sculpted chest before winding their way around his neck. He stopped the urgent kissing to stare into my eyes. What I read behind the blazing blues caused me to start trembling with some nameless need. He lowered himself onto the bed and left me standing before him. He reached around to unzip my skirt. My fast hand flew out to stop him, but he just smacked it away. Somehow, this elicited a nervous giggle. Our eyes met.
“Just the skirt and shirt for now,” he promised. “I want to see you in your bra and panties.” He followed this up with the kind of smile that you feel in unmentionable places.
Gah! Just that word: panties . I felt my face catch fire, but I didn’t have too much time to think about it, because the skirt was already falling to the floor. He tugged it away before running his hands back up my legs, one on each side, in a long, luxurious caress that ended at my shoulders. He swiftly parted the front of my shirt and slipped it off my shoulders. It ghosted to the floor next to my skirt. I felt my whole body catch fire and had a mad urge to cover myself. Before my hands could even twitch, he caught my wrists. He took a moment to stare at me. A proprietor’s smile of approval softened his chiseled face. He let out a stream of air that warmed my stomach. A hand on each hipbone, he drew me forward for a belly kiss that ended with licks and nips along the inside of my hipbone. I gasped at the unexpected pleasure and dug my hands into his hair, feeling the close-cropped strands prickle my palms. He cupped my bottom, yanking me into him. I fell into his hard wall of chest. He settled me back on top of him, so that I ended up staring down at him with nervous expectation. We took a moment to share a smile. Then he flipped me over to trail fingers from the bottom of my belly up to my breasts. He cupped them in his warm palms before rubbing his thumbs across my nipples, over my bra. Gah! I had to admit: he was good. I didn’t have time to mull that over, because he nipped at my left breast with his teeth before moving his mouth over to the neglected one. My eyes closed, a low moan coming out unbidden.
I felt his smile of triumph tickle the valley between my breasts, and when he unhooked my bra, I didn’t even half-heartedly try to stop him this time. His hand stroked the concave curve of my waist over my hip to cup my bottom. He stared into my eyes before bringing his lips to mine. I was making a kind of racket in my throat that I was acutely embarrassed of, but seemed helpless to do anything about.
A moan erupted from his own throat. “You’re gonna kill me tonight, Kitty-Kat,” he growled.
I smiled at my nickname on his mouth and pulled that teasing instrument of torture back to mine. We indulged in the kind of kiss that erased all logical thoughts from minds. He caressed the inside of my thighs and around the contours of my stomach. I arched up a little as though willing his hand to go lower. Gah! I was already ready to give it up. And then he blazed a trail of moist kisses all the way . . . down there. I gasped and yanked his head up by his hair. He glanced up just long enough to smirk at me before kissing his way back up my belly, between my breasts, and up to my neck. I caught my breath, clutching him to me. I wanted more. My heart was galloping in my chest, even as my breath became shallower. He stared at my face for a hot second, a small smile on his lips. And then he took the tip of his finger and ran it very softly down the line of my other lips, over my underwear. I felt like I might simultaneously combust.
“That’s cheatin’,” I gasped, arching my hips for more.
“I already mentioned I don’t play fair,” he smirked.
I wanted him to round third. I couldn’t believe it.
He stared at my face, reading my desire fight with my desire to wait. An urgent finger traced the outline of my underwear, before lifting the elastic and slipping inside, inching closer to the goal. I panted a little. Was this what it was going to . . . ? I didn’t have time to finish the thought because he was swirling a tongue around my nipple. I shoved his sweater up so I could feel his heated flesh against mine. I gripped his back, pressing him into me.
He growled in his throat. “You’re playing with fire now, little lady.”
He cupped his hand around my bottom pressing our nether regions together. I groaned and arched into him, urging him on. He slowly slipped a hand over my underwear and cupped me down there . I gasped.
“I’ll take that as surrender,” he smirked before fastening his lips to mine as he slowly peeled down my underwear.
I grabbed his hand. “No, wait.”
He glanced up surprised, his face dark with passion. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
I shook my head at him. He let out an aggravated growl before dropping his face to my heaving chest. “You’re killing me, Connelly.”
Something in me still didn’t feel right. I was hit with a stinging sense of déjà vu. I took in a steadying breath and pulled his head up. “Just one more question . . . then yes.”
His eyes flew to mine. “ Yes? ”
I smiled. “Yes, to third base,” I clarified, running my hands along his broad back.
He growl-laughed. “I’m gonna work you over on our wedding night,” he threatened, blazing a trail of kisses down the center of my body.
Shivers of fearful excitement trembled through me. I palmed his head back to mine and looked him in the eye for a long moment. I could totally see how feminine wiles could make a man go soft . . . and hard. His guard was down. This was the most open he’d ever allowed himself to be with me.
“Ranger . . . do you love me?”
A funny look crossed his face, somewhere between tender and irritated. He closed his eyes. “Close enough, Katie-Kat. Close enough.”
And then he kissed me tenderly and proceeded to steal third base.