It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. Suzanne Brockmann

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СКАЧАТЬ leaned forward. “Go for it. She spends far too much time with her head in a book. It’ll be good for her. It’ll be good for you, too.”

      Crash looked at her. “You’re actually serious.”

      “How old are you now?”

      “Thirty-three.”

      She grinned. “I’d say it’s definitely time for you to lose your virginity.”

      He couldn’t help but smile. “You’re very funny.”

      “It’s not entirely a joke. For all I know, you haven’t been with a woman. You’ve never brought anyone home. You’ve never mentioned so much as a name.”

      “That’s because I happen to value my privacy—as well as respecting the privacy of the woman I’m seeing.”

      “I know you’re not seeing anyone right now,” Daisy said. “How could you be? You were away for four months, you got back for two days, and then you were gone again for another week. Unless you have a girlfriend in Malaysia or Hong Kong, or wherever it is you’re sent…”

      “No,” Crash said, “I don’t.”

      “So what do you do? Stay celibate? Or pay for sex?”

      That question made Crash laugh out loud. “I’ve never paid for sex in my life. I can’t believe you’re asking me about this.” Daisy had always been outrageous and shockingly direct, but she’d always steered clear from the subject of his sex life in the past. Some subjects were too personal—or at least they had been, before.

      “I’m no longer worried about shocking anyone,” she told him. “I’ve decided that if I want to know the answer to a question, dammit, I’m going to ask it. Besides, I love you, and I love Nell. I think it would be really cool if the two of you got together.”

      Crash sighed. “Daisy, Nell’s great. I like her and I…think she’s smart and pretty and…very nice.” He couldn’t help but remember how perfectly she had fit in his arms, how soft her hair had felt beneath his fingers, how good she’d smelled. “Too nice.”

      “No, she’s not. She’s sharp and funny and tough and she’s got this real edge to her that—”

      “Tough?”

      Daisy lifted her chin defensively. “She can be, yeah. Billy, if you’ll just take some time and get to know her, I know you’ll fall in love with her.”

      “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t do ‘in love.”’ Crash wanted to stand up and pace, but there was no room. Besides, he knew without a doubt that Daisy would read some deep meaning into his inability to sit still. “The truth is, I don’t even do long-term or permanent. I couldn’t even if I wanted to—and I don’t want to. You know that I’m never around for more than a few weeks at a time. And because I’m aware of those realities, I don’t ever give anyone false hope by bringing them here to meet you.”

      “All those don’ts are so negative. What do you do?” Daisy asked. “One-night stands? You know, that’s dangerous these days.”

      Crash looked out the window. The sky was overcast again. December in Virginia was wet and dreary and utterly depressing.

      “What I do is, I walk into a bar,” he told her, “and I look around, see who’s looking back at me. If there are any sparks, I approach. I ask if I can buy her a drink. If she says yes, I ask her to take a walk on the beach. And then, away from the noise of the bar, I ask her about her life, about her job, her family, her last scumbag of a boyfriend—whatever—and I listen really carefully to what she tells me because not many people bother to listen, and I know I’ll win big points if I do. And by the time we’ve walked a quarter mile, I’ve listened so well, she’s ready to make it with me.”

      Daisy was silent, just watching him. Her expression was sad, as if what he was telling her wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear. Still, there was no judgment and no disapproval in her eyes.

      “Instead, I take her home and I kiss her good-night,” Crash continued, “and I ask her if I can see her again—take her to dinner the next night, take her someplace nice. She always says yes, so the next night we go out and I treat her really well. And then I tell her over dessert, right up front, that I want to sleep with her but I’m not going to be around for long. I lay it out right there, right on the table. I’m a SEAL, and I could be called away at any time. I tell her I’m not looking for anything that’s going to last. I’ve got a week, maybe two, and I want to spend that time with her. And she always appreciates my honesty so much that she takes me home. For the next week or however long it is until I get called out on some op, she cooks for me, and she does my laundry, and she keeps me very warm and very, very happy at night. And when I leave, she lets me go, because she knew it was coming. And I walk away—no guilt, no regrets.”

      “Didn’t you learn anything from me at all? All those summers we spent together…”

      Crash looked up. Daisy’s eyes were still so sad. “I learned to be honest,” he told her. “You taught me that.”

      “But what you do seems so…cold and calculated.”

      He nodded. “It’s calculated. I don’t pretend it’s not. But I’m honest about it—to myself and to the woman I’m with.”

      “Haven’t you ever met anyone that you burn for?” she asked. “Someone you just want to lie down in front of and surrender to? Someone you absolutely live and die for?”

      Crash shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not looking for that, and I don’t expect to find it, either. I think most people go through life without that kind of experience.”

      “That is so sad.” There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “It’s crazy, too. I’m the one who’s dying, but right now I feel so much luckier than you.”

      

      Nell was moving at a dead run as she rounded the corner by the stairs and plowed smack into Crash.

      Somehow he managed to catch her and keep them both from landing on the ground in a tangled pile of arms and legs.

      “Sorry.” Nell felt herself blushing as he made sure she was steadily on her feet again.

      “Is everything all right?” he asked, finally letting go of her arms. “Is Daisy…?”

      “She’s fine,” Nell said. “But she said yes.”

      He didn’t bother to ask. He just waited for her to explain. He was dressed all in black again today, but because the chill of winter was in the air, he wore a turtleneck instead of his usual T-shirt.

      Most men managed to look good in a simple black turtleneck. William Hawken looked incredible.

      It hugged his shoulders and arms, accentuating his streamlined muscles. It was funny, Nell had always thought of him as somewhat thin—more lean and wiry than muscular—because most of the time he wore clothes that were just a little too large. His T-shirts were never tight and he always wore his pants just a little low on his hips and slightly loose.

      But the truth was, he was СКАЧАТЬ