Her Lieutenant Protector. Lara Lacombe

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СКАЧАТЬ but they’d all grown tired of her issues with physical intimacy. Her therapist had told her not to stress about it, but that was easier said than done.

      “Don’t force yourself to engage in sex until you’re ready,” Dr. Givens had said, her brown eyes warm and kind behind the rims of her tortoiseshell glasses. “Everyone recovers at their own pace, and you can’t judge your progress against artificial benchmarks.”

      The logical part of Mallory understood and agreed with Dr. Givens, but her emotional side wondered if she would ever feel safe enough to sleep with a man again.

      “Someday,” she muttered, shaking her head as she pulled a T-shirt and yoga pants from the built-in dresser. “I just haven’t met the right man yet.”

      It was a juvenile fantasy, the idea that there was some kind of Prince Charming out there for her. Nevertheless, it gave her comfort to think that she wasn’t permanently broken, that she would be able to enjoy intimacy with someone out there.

      Avery and Olivia seemed to have found their happily-ever-afters. Maybe it was time Mallory started looking for hers.

      * * *

      Everest LeBeau slowed his pace for a moment and reached for the water bottle, keeping one hand on the elliptical machine for balance while he twisted off the cap. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have had to throttle back his workout, but thanks to his war injuries those days were behind him.

      He replaced the bottle and kicked things up again, gritting his teeth at the ache in his lower right leg. The prosthesis he wore just below his right knee was shifting a little, rubbing the skin of his stump with every step. It was a new prosthesis, and he knew from experience it would take a little time for calluses to build up. Until they did, he was just going to have to deal with the discomfort.

      He was used to handling pain. He’d pushed himself to the limit at the army basic officer course, wanting to test his physical capabilities. His classmates had thought he was crazy—everyone knew boot camp was easier for officers, and they thought he should take advantage of the more relaxed standards. They’d laughed at him, right up until the two-week field training exercise when all his extra work had paid off. He’d passed with flying colors and had set a few new records for his efforts. Not bad for a guy from the backwaters of Louisiana. The army had shipped him off to Iraq with a pat on the back and a smile.

      The heat of the desert had been uncomfortable, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The dry, oven-like atmosphere had been a novel change from the hot and sticky weather he was used to, but as long as he stayed hydrated, things were bearable, if a mite stifling. The desert wasn’t his favorite place, but it didn’t take him long to settle into a routine with his team. He had this war thing figured out, or so he’d thought.

      Until it all came crashing down on a lazy summer day seven years ago.

      The IED had done its work with brutal efficiency. The explosion had thrown him clear of the Humvee, and the shock of it had kept him from feeling much of anything at first. It wasn’t until the medics arrived and began to move him that the pain had registered: a white-hot agony radiating from the stump below his right knee... Everest closed his eyes for a second and could almost smell the stale, chalky odor of the desert. He brushed sweat off his forehead, half expecting to feel the fine grit of sand under his fingertips. The stuff had been everywhere, a kind of fine, powdered sugar–like particulate that hung in the air and clung to skin and hair and clothes with ferocious tenacity. Just stepping outside was enough to make a man want a shower, but bathing was a luxury. Even then, Everest hadn’t truly felt clean until he’d been home for a while. Weeks after his return he’d still been sloughing off grains of sand, little reminders of his tour. Of course, it hadn’t helped he’d spent so much time in a hospital bed. Sponge baths were no match for all the layers of desert funk he’d accrued during his tour.

      That first real shower, though? Heaven. He could still feel the warm rivulets of water cascading over his shoulders, down his chest and back. It had been so damn amazing to feel clean again, it was almost enough to make him forget about his leg. Or rather, the missing parts of his leg. The strangest part of all was that he had felt the water on the soles of his feet—both of them. In fact, if he’d kept his eyes closed, he’d been able to feel the shower spray on both legs, not just the one he still had. He mentioned it to the doctor, and the man had nodded knowingly, a small, sad smile on his face.

      “It’s a phantom sensation,” he’d explained. “We don’t know why it happens, but it’s not uncommon for amputees to still feel their missing limb.”

      The pain had come later, a wrenching, bone-crushing sensation that nearly took his breath away. Even now, he still wasn’t used to the intensity of the sensation, or the incongruity of it. How could the ghost of a limb cause so much agony? More important, why did his brain insist on betraying him like that?

      Fortunately, the attacks of phantom pain had grown less frequent over the years. Physical therapy had helped, as had the prosthetic legs he’d used. His limb felt somewhat whole again when he wore the prosthesis, and apparently that was enough to convince his brain that things were working as they should. It had been a long, hard road to reclaim his mobility, but he wasn’t going to dwell on the past. He’d left the desert behind, and he had no desire to go back. He much preferred the beach sand he encountered now while working on a cruise ship.

      The glass door of the gym swung wide, and a curvy redhead walked in, pulling up short when she saw him. She clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone here, and he noticed the brief flicker of alarm that passed over her face, there and gone in an instant. Interesting, he mused. What was she afraid of?

      Everest nodded at her and tried for a friendly smile. She gave him a guarded wave and headed for the treadmill at the far end of the row. He watched from the corner of his eye as she hopped on and began to warm up, her stride graceful as she moved.

      Who was she? As head of security, he made it a point to know all the staff on the ship, even if only on a superficial level. Since this was the Abigail Adams’s maiden voyage, most of the crew was new to him, which meant he had a lot of catching up to do. He would meet everyone, though. He always did.

      He slowed his pace as the woman ramped up hers, her footsteps beating out a steady cadence on the tread of the machine. After a few moments of cooldown, he stepped off the elliptical and fought the urge to bend down and rub his leg. He didn’t like people to know about his injury or prosthesis.

      Especially not beautiful women.

      Even though she was at the opposite end of the row of equipment, Everest could feel her eyes on him as he wiped his face and gathered his water bottle and keys. She reminded him of a cat his family had owned when he’d been a kid. Mittens had spent hours lying in the windowsill, his eyes trained on the birds and squirrels that frequented the backyard feeder. He’d never once lunged or swiped at any of the critters, but he’d known where every visitor was located. Everest got the sense now that this woman was taking his measure in much the same way. He stood a little straighter, his ego demanding he put his best foot forward.

      Or his real foot, as it were.

      She didn’t try to hide the fact she was watching him. In his experience most women played it coy, glancing away when he met their eyes. Not this one. She kept staring at him, her expression open but with a hint of wariness, like she was trying to assess what he might do. Her eyes widened when he started walking toward her, but she didn’t miss a step.

      He stopped in front of her treadmill and placed his right shoe on the engine cover, easing his weight onto his left leg. He glanced down to see if his prosthesis was exposed, but the fabric of his pants СКАЧАТЬ