Chapter One
“I better get a good report on you today, Sergeant. Any whining and you"ll get your ass blistered soon as we get out of here. Maybe sooner.” Rachel sucked in a surprised breath as Dana"s white cane shot out toward Peter"s unprotected shin with impressive accuracy. Despite his formidable size, Peter sidestepped it with practiced grace, tossing Rachel a grin as he slid an arm around Dana"s waist, drawing her to his side. Closing his hand over her slim fingers, he plucked the cane from her. “And I"d best hold onto this for you.”
“Chicken,” Dana retorted. She turned her face up to him. “Afraid a little blind girl"s going to take you down with a plastic stick.”
Rachel pressed her lips together against a smile as Peter used one arm and a quick move to hoist his petite fiancée over his shoulder. Though Dana threatened to dismember him in creative ways, he simply steadied her with one hand spread across her attractive bottom. When he hooked his thumb in one of the pockets of her snug jeans, that intimacy alone was enough to make Rachel ache. “Where do you want her?” he asked. His storm gray eyes lingered on Rachel"s face, his brow creasing thoughtfully as if he saw something there he shouldn"t.
Snapping her gaze away from the placement of that large hand, she nodded toward the usual cot for Dana"s physical therapy. Since she was standing at her corner desk in the therapy room, Rachel shuffled through her calendar, pretending to finish up some things before they got started.
In reality, she was breathing through that sharp twist in her lower belly, the one she recognized as yearning. It was a far-too-frequent feeling since Peter had started bringing Dana to her PT sessions. It wasn"t their teasing loveplay. They were being a little more blatant than usual today, but since they were engaged, it wasn"t unexpected.
Their romantic vibes fairly oozed out over everyone around them. The only reaction it should have triggered from her was indulgent amusement, maybe a touch of motherly exasperation. But there was an additional component between them.
Most people would miss it, though they might pick up on something about Peter and Dana"s interactions that mesmerized or made them feel inexplicably uncomfortable.
Unable to place what it was, they"d call it something else, or shrug it off as those engagement vibes. She"d done the same thing, but she"d known from the first she was fooling herself. Even after all these years of trying to mute her desire, she seemed to have a radar for it.
It was in the way Peter followed Dana"s movements, tracking her facial expressions, picking up everything she was feeling and anticipating it so well. He was as aware of Dana"s physical and emotional state as the woman herself. Probably more. Each word she spoke, every syllable of her body language, elicited some type of response from him. Pure, monitored attention.
Rachel had convinced herself men like that didn"t exist. Another of the many lies she"d told herself for way too long. When Peter made that sensual threat to blister his fiancee"s ass, the faint tinge under Dana"s mocha skin said she knew he"d live up to that promise. And she"d welcome it—as a reward, not punishment.
Their weekly visit was both the highlight and curse of Rachel"s week.
He was carting Dana back to the cot as if he was carrying a grain sack. “Got to get you back in shape, soldier. I expect you to wait on me hand and foot like a proper wife should. I"m running out of patience with this coddling.”
“I"ll be happy to put my fist or foot right where it"ll do you the most good,” Dana returned sweetly. She had her right elbow propped on Peter"s wide shoulder, holding herself up. Rachel noted she was guarding the left arm. They"d need to do extra work on that today. However, the stomach muscles were admirably strong.
Peter slid Dana off his shoulder and onto her feet, as smooth and gentle as if she were a porcelain doll, belying his words. It was in his face, every time he looked at the black woman who barely came up to his chin and yet had the force of personality to match his larger-than-life presence. There was nothing he wouldn"t do for her. Except let her give up on herself, which Rachel knew was why he came to every session with her.
Dana wasn"t a complainer. She was always stoic and cheerful, such that Rachel was sure she and Peter were the only people who knew how hard these sessions were.
Before the end of it, Dana would have her teeth gritted against pain, tears running down her face as she pushed it a little further. Like so many patients, she also waged a mental battle against despair, confronted with a body that would never be the same again.
Dana had been injured in Iraq, losing her sight, most of her hearing and some mobility and strength in her left side. Not only had she required multiple surgeries, she"d needed physical therapy to regain flexibility. PT was never easy, but Dana"s had been rougher than most because she"d battled post-traumatic stress disorder and its attendant deep depression for over a year, letting the already damaged muscles atrophy. That said, over the past three months, Dana had made tremendous progress.
She was a strong, brave woman, but Rachel also knew a great deal of it had to do with the man who encouraged, bullied and stood by her, no matter what.
He"d bring her to the therapy area, but typically he"d return to the waiting room during the first part of the session, when Dana would insist she didn"t need babying.
However, with uncanny timing, whenever the session reached its worst point, Peter was likely to wander back to see if Rachel wanted a soda from the vending machine.