A Marine of Plenty Read Online Free Page A

in.”
    God help him, she was even prettier on the inside. His objections washed away in the face of such fierce devotion. “Okay. It’ll be my honor to help in any way that I can.”
    A tremulous smile lightened the sadness in her face. “Thank you, Charlie.”
    “My pleasure.” His body tightened at the thought. “But first things first. Take a shower, change your clothes, and then I’ll escort you to the mess and you can talk to the cooks.”
    “Okay.” She rubbed a hand over her face again, as though trying to wipe away the tear tracks staining her cheeks. “How do I tell you I’m ready?”
    “I’m right next door.” He pointed to the left. “Knock on the wall.”

 
     
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    The lukewarm shower did a great deal to restore her equilibrium. Jana couldn’t believe she’d cried all over the captain. Despite his fantastic letters, and the genuine apology in his behavior and words, he was a stranger, and she’d wept brokenly in his arms.
    “And then I laughed.” She stared at the small round mirror affixed to the wall in the tiny bathroom. “Laughed like a lunatic.”
    Talking out loud to yourself doesn’t make you any less crazy .
    Her emotions see-sawed between euphoria and depression. In clinical terms, she wasn’t coping well despite all her good intentions and plans. During the weeks leading up to the trip, while negotiating her security clearance and arrangements with the congressman’s office and the military liaison, she’d been so focused on getting to the base and being able to make the dinner, she hadn’t really given any thought to what it would be like to be there.
    Where Robbie died.
    Bracing her hands on the edge of the cold steel sink, she bowed her head.
    Get it together. You knew it would be hard and that it would take everything to make this work .
    But even the mental pep talk couldn’t defuse the gut-churning anxiety ripping her inside out.
    Breathing deeply, she concentrated on getting her erratic heart rate under control and the need to sob out of her throat. The clogging sensation choked her and she couldn’t think past the next ten seconds if she focused on her loss.
    “So it’s not about loss, it’s about being thankful for being here,” she told her reflection sternly. Unfortunately, the blonde woman gazing back at her with too-wide, red-rimmed green eyes didn’t look like she believed the words at all. “Suck it up, princess.”
    In for a count of four, out for a count of four . She flexed her grip on the hard metal and, bit by bit, the drowning sensation receded. I can do this . She could knock on the wall, summon the captain back, and head over to the mess. The food would not cook itself.
    Rinsing the last of her tears away with a splash of cold water, she brushed her hair out and braided it, then dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans. She’d have to put the flak jacket back on— how do they wear the beastly things and run miles at a time? —and the helmet before she made her way to the kitchens.
    Or did she?
    Padding over to the wall, she knocked on it once and fished a pair of socks out of her duffel. She’d barely perched on the edge of the cot when the captain knocked on her door.
    “Come in.” She tugged one of the socks on. She hadn’t bothered to lock the door when he left her earlier. He entered, all geared up.
    I wonder if he has to sleep that way?
    “You’re not ready?” He didn’t walk all the way in, but waited in the hall.
    “No—I just realized I don’t know where the mess is and whether I needed my flak and stuff for that trip, or not.”
    “Always.” Clipped and stern, his expression brooked no arguments. “If you’re not in here , I want you geared up.”
    Chewing her lip, she pulled on her boots. They were old army surplus and very comfortable, but steel-toed to protect her feet in the uncertain terrain. “Um.” She squinted at him. “You want me to cook in all of that?” Between the heat of the ovens