Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney
Chapter Twenty-One
Mack turnedoff the highway and pulled into the parking lot of Luigi’s, the Italian restaurant he’d booked for eight o’clock. Rolling the car to a stop, he applied the brake and waited for the merest sign of Honor lapsing into an all-out panic attack. Her breathing remained steady, and she hit him with bright, if slightly wide, eyes and a smile laced with only a hint of nerves.
“Ready?” Mack asked.
“Give me a minute.”
Shooting a glance at the restaurant, she tracked a group heading for the entrance, their laughter floating over on the light summer-evening breeze. She rubbed her palms over her thighs, then unclipped her belt.
“I’m ready.”
“Attagirl.”
Mack scooted around to her side of the car and offered her his arm.
“Just a walk in the park, Red.”
Inhaling through her nose, she braced her shoulders and took her first steps toward freedom. She might not see it in those terms, but he did. She’d made huge strides from that first tentative step outside her place in Manhattan to right now, even if she couldn’t see her progress as clearly as he did. If she managed to spend an evening in the company of strangers without freaking out, she might begin to see for herself how much she’d improved. Not one weird thing had happened since they’d arrived, other than the headless bear. But if she had been the one to destroy that, she’d done it back in Manhattan before they’d left.
He opened the door and pressed the flat of his palm to her lower back, ushering her inside. The door closed with a loud thud, and she flinched, aiming a glance over her shoulder.
“It’s just the door. You’re okay.”
“How are you so patient with me?”
“I can bollock you if you’d prefer.” He offered up a crooked smile and a wink, then jerked his chin. “In you go.”
A couple in front were led to their table, and Mack stepped forward to give his name to the greeter. He’d purposely asked for a quiet table in a corner with a view of the main dining room, and the restaurant honored his wishes. As with the diner, he motioned for Honor to slide into the booth first, and he sat beside her.
“I’m okay if you want to sit on the other side,” she said.
“And how am I going to feel you up from all the way over there?”
She giggled. “You wouldn’t.”
He angled his head and smirked. “Oh, Red.”
She shuffled closer until their thighs touched. “Then I’m all in.”
His eyes flicked over her face, settling on her lips. “You’re like a flower that’s spent the winter hiding from vicious winds and driving snow and has woken up one day to discover it’s spring and life can begin again.” He grazed his thumb over her plump bottom lip. “You’re a tough son of a gun, Red.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
He shook his head. “Not true. You might not be in this particular restaurant at this precise time, but you were ready to break out of your cocoon. All you needed was someone to crack the shell.”
“And crack it you did.” She grinned. “Took a sledgehammer to it, if truth be told.”
“Bullshit,” Mack said. “You got the moderate version. Kid gloves all the way.”
Honor snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Marine.” He opened his mouth to correct her, and she laughed, raising up her palms. “Royal Marine. I got it, I got it.”
The server arrived to take their food and drink orders. Mack chose a bloody steak and a water. Honor decided on the red snapper with Italian herbs and a side of asparagus. Her eyes flicked to the wine menu, and then she snapped it closed and asked for a Coke.
“You can have wine if you want,” Mack said. “It doesn’t bother me, truly.”
“Are you sure?”
He rolled his eyes and faced the server. “She’ll have a large glass of the Sancerre.”
“How do you know I like Sancerre?” Honor asked after the server retreated to the bar to put their drink order in.
“I have eyes, Red. And you have an impressive stock of wines back at your place.”
“Oh, yeah.” She rubbed her forehead. “When I got home after… afterward, I didn’t dare touch it in case alcohol became a crutch. I didn’t want to hit the bottom and not be able to find my way out.”
“Whereas I did the complete opposite. I drowned my pain with anything I could get a hold of. Found the bottom, too.” He forced a smile. “That’s a fun ride. You made the right decision, Red.”
She touched her head to his, and he appreciated the gesture of solidarity.
“What did they do to you?”
His blood turned to ice, and he straightened, forcing her to do the same. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“But I do want to know, Mack. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
“Then let me put it another way. I don’t talk about that shit with anyone, and that includes you.”
“You told your therapist, yes?”
His jaw flexed where he repeatedly clenched his teeth, and he fisted his hands, his nails digging into his palms. “Some. Pieces. Not the entire thing. Never that.”
The lightest of touches from her hand graced his forearm. “Maybe you could tell me the whole story.”
“No.” His eyes dug into hers, and he hated the sadness and disappointment reflected back at him. “Don’t take it personally, and don’t be sad. It all happened a long time ago, and raking it up only opens the door to horrors I’d rather not allow to escape. I’m not running from it. I faced up to what had transpired in that hellhole, and I recognize that, on some level, it’ll be with me until the day I die. But I’ve done my talking. I don’t plan to revisit therapy sessions with you or anyone else.”
“Yet you think therapy would help me, even though I tried it and all it did was make things worse.”
“That’s because you didn’t truly commit to the process.” He paused while the server dropped off their drinks. “If you go all in, then it will help you. But you gotta commit, Red.”
“But you’ve just said you didn’t go all in.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “I told the therapist enough, okay? Enough that he got the picture and was able to tailor his advice accordingly. I wasn’t his first torture victim, and I won’t be his last.”
“Torture?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Mack. I’m so sorry.”
He scowled. “You wanna piss me off, then keep going. Otherwise, stop, okay? Just stop.”
The noise of the restaurant faded, the ringing in his ears the only thing he could hear. Honor fiddled with her napkin, then set it on the table and stared off into space. And then her voice came at him, soft and tender and exactly what he needed to drive his demons into retreat.
“Will you help me find someone? A good therapist?”
Shifting in her direction, he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. “You have a far higher opinion of me and my abilities than I deserve. I wouldn’t know where to start. But what I can do is talk to Loris. He’ll have the right contacts.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes were filled with questions that she wouldn’t ask and he wouldn’t answer.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“And I shouldn’t have pushed.” She picked up her glass of wine and sipped. “I think I’d like to do it. The therapy, I mean. After we go back. I’m not ready yet, though. To go back, I mean.”
Mack slipped a hand around the back of her neck and tugged her closer to him, resting his forehead against hers. “We go back when, and only when, you’re ready. Not a day before.”
She breathed deeply through her nose, exhaling it quietly. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you when you’re gone.”
He heard the gloom in her tone, and his chest tensed in response. He’d come to America under duress, and he’d vowed to give it three months. He was a ways off that yet, but he already knew he wouldn’t need the entire period. She’d be ready to strike out on her own soon, even if she would vehemently disagree with him if he said as much. And yet the idea of returning to England earlier than his self-imposed deadline filled him with misery rather than joy.
Damn woman had cast a spell that he didn’t have an antidote for.
“You know what I did learn in therapy?”
“What’s that?”
“To live in the now. It’s all we have. Yesterday is in the past, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.”
Her lips flickered into a hint of a smile. “Well, if we’re living in the now, I’d like a kiss, please.”
“That I can do.”
He moved his body to shield her from the other customers and pressed his palms to her cheeks. The kiss started out light and frivolous, then changed into the kind of PDA that made other people uncomfortable. Not that Mack gave two shits what anyone thought of him. If his woman wanted a kiss, that was what she’d get, regardless of where the fuck they were or who was watching.
His woman.
Fuck.
He drew back, hiding the abrupt way he’d ended their kiss with a warm grin.
“Hold that thought, Red.”
Saved from further immediate conversation by the appearance of their food, Mack picked up his knife and fork and dug into his steak. Chewing was good. Chewing gave him time to mull over the startling direction his thoughts had taken. The last person he’d ever thought of in terms of ‘his woman’ was Clara. No one before. No one since.
Yet more evidence that he was falling deep and falling hard for someone he couldn’t have. He and Honor didn’t have a future. She lived in the States; he lived in England. His job took him all over the world. Hers, when she decided to start it up again, was on the theater circuit. Not to mention they were complete opposites. The only thing they had in common was their shared experiences of abduction.
Not true, Mack thought. They also had a sexual connection the likes of which he’d never known. Not even with Clara. He and Honor were dynamite between the sheets, their compatibility off the freaking charts. He’d held back only because he hadn’t wanted to scare her, but damn, she didn’t scare easily.
“Not good?”
Mack blinked, Honor’s soft voice dragging him back to the present. “Huh?”
“The steak? Not good? You’ve barely touched it.”
“Oh.” He stared at the hunk of meat on his plate, a single piece sheared off the side. “No, it’s good. It’s fine.” He ate that piece and cut another slice off. “How’s the fish?”
She put down her fork and laid a hand on his thigh. “What’s wrong?”
He thought about lying and then decided a partial truth was better than nothing. “Having some feelings over here, Red. Surprised me, that’s all.”
Her face almost split in half with a grin that stretched all the way up to her cheeks and reflected joy in her emerald-green eyes.
“Even tough guys can feel, Mack.”
He pointed his fork at her plate. “Eat your food.”
How she chewed and swallowed considering the grin didn’t leave her face was a mystery that would remain unsolved. On the one hand, Mack reveled in the fact that he’d been the one to put it there, yet on the other, a bite of worry settled in his gut. His confession might lead her to think they had a future. Not good. He wouldn’t spoil this evening, especially as she’d made such great strides in her recovery, but he’d have to reiterate the boundaries. Soon.
Maybe he should have lied after all.
Their server collected their plates, and they both declined dessert. Mack was about to suggest they pay up and leave, when loud music started. It was coming from the far side of the restaurant.
“What’s that?” he asked the server.
“Oh, we have a live band and dancing twice a week.”
Honor turned to him, all excited and riled up. She gripped his arm. “I love dancing. Or at least I used to.”
“I don’t dance.”
Her mouth turned down at the edges in the phoniest sad face he’d ever seen. “Come on, Mack. It’s another step in my recovery, don’t you think?”
Cornered, Mack groaned. “If my size fifteens squash your toes, I don’t want to hear a single word of complaint. Got it?”
She clapped her hands. “Oh, this will be such fun.”
“Not how I’d choose to describe it,” he groused.
Honor clutched his wrist and weaved through the tables. By the time they entered the room where the band played on a small, raised stage, the dance floor was already crammed with swaying bodies. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body tight to his.
And then she… gyrated. Only word for it. Her hips snaked from side to side, and with every movement, she brushed past his dick. She shook out her flame-red hair and threw back her head, exposing the creamy skin of her neck.
Mack put his lips right next to her ear. “You ever fucked in public, Red?”
Her eyes went to his, round with shock. “No.”
“Then I suggest you stop rubbing up against me like that, or you’ll be one for one. Got it?”
“You wouldn’t.”
He bent his head and bit down on her earlobe, hard. “Try me.”
Leaning back, she eyeballed him with a steely gaze filled with intent, her desire to dance forgotten. “Why don’t we settle up and then get the heck out of here?”
Had to be said, he fucking craved more of the new, confident Honor Reid. “Thought you’d never ask.”