Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) Page 5

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. My ma has weak feet. I think they call it ‘fallen arches.’ I used to watch my pa take each foot separately and gently massage them. She got so relaxed that sometimes she’d fall asleep on the couch while he massaged away. She always felt better after he worked on them.” Beau held up his long, spare hands. “I got lucky, Callie. I got his hands.” He reached for her right foot.

  “I would love a massage,” Callie sighed. “I need shoes with better arch support, that’s for sure.” She leaned back, and the moment Beau’s hands enclosed her foot, she felt the magic his mother must have felt when Beau’s father began working on her feet. His hands felt wonderful!

  “You know, you work too hard around here, Callie,” he drawled. “Now, just close your eyes and go far away in your mind. I’ll take care of these poor, sufferin’ feet of yours.” And he did, running his hand up and down her arch, her skin warm and velvety beneath his seeking fingers as he pushed and cajoled those tight muscles to loosen them up.

  “Ohh … ,” she whispered. “That feels so good, Beau … thank you …”

  His mouth curved faintly as he began to knead her flesh, taking each toe, gently moving it, getting it to relax. The soft sounds emanating from Callie’s throat pleased him.

  He wanted to do something for her. God knew, she flew around this place, helping the four widows and then assisting Maggie with tons of paperwork in her office. Callie was constantly on her feet, and he’d never seen her take a break.

  “Must be that belly dancing, ’cause your ankles and calves are truly fine,” he murmured, sliding his fingers from below her knee downward.

  Callie sighed, utterly relaxed. “Everyone works hard around here. And hey, you can do this any time you want.” Barely opening her eyes, she studied his bent head as he focused solely on her leg, ankle, and foot.

  “Well, you and I are going to be in this neck of the woods until next March, so let me know when you need another boost.” As a matter of fact, Beau was making some long-range plans for them both.

  He would, of course, have to go on missions with his team, but they’d also get a few days’ rest at Bagram. Then he could call her up and ask her out, or do something special to gain more of her trust. He’d been looking for an opportunity to talk to her today, and by sheer luck, he’d found her here.

  “Mmm, you’ve got a deal,” Callie murmured. His hands were strong but gentle. He truly does have magic hands, she thought as her cranky feet began to glow with improved circulation. When he was done with one foot, he leaned down, retrieved her shoe, and eased it back on, placing it beside him on the wide stool.

  “Are we ready for the other foot?” he teased, already picking it up and coaxing the shoe off her foot.

  “Ohh, for sure … thank you …” Callie felt absolutely adored. Worshipped, as a matter of fact. Her mind rejected that image, but she couldn’t help but feel spoiled rotten by Beau Gardner. His hands soothed her sore feet, and as he kneaded her ankle and then her calf, she could do nothing but sigh with pleasure.

  The way he monitored his strength against her flesh told her he’d be a sensitive lover. Clearly, he wasn’t the kind of guy to show off his strength to women, and this was a refreshing change for Callie.

  She began to doze off, and it wasn’t until Beau placed her shoe back on her foot that she roused herself.

  “Feel better now?” Beau asked, gently tapping her ankle.

  “Like night and day,” she admitted, her voice husky as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I must have dozed off. I never do that!”

  “Only for about ten minutes,” Beau said. He eased off the stool, walked over to retrieve his rifle, and snapped it back into his chest harness. “The kids will be down for another fifteen minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee? I’m having one,” he said, gesturing at the freshly made pot sitting on the back shelf in the office.

  “That sounds good,” she said, still trying to wake up. “My feet feel wonderful. I guess I owe you,” she offered, feeling suddenly shy.

  “Uh-oh,” Beau teased her mercilessly, pouring her a cup and then adding the sugar and cream she liked. Stirring it, he turned and walked across the office, handing her the mug.

  “What?” Callie demanded, thanking him for the coffee. Her eyes moved upward, meeting his. There was such merriment in their gray depths that she felt embraced by an invisible energy coming directly from him to her.

  “Well,” he drawled, returning to the coffeepot, “you said that you owe me. Now, what am I to think about that?” He sauntered to another chair that sat near hers.

  Callie rolled her eyes. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

  “I’m kind of ordinary. I like chocolate.”

  “Not Rocky Road? Chocolate almond fudge?”

  Shaking his head, he enjoyed seeing Callie relaxed and not tense or on guard. “No. But I do like nuts and whipped cream on it when I can get it. Does that count?” His lower body went on red alert as she rewarded him with that luscious smile of hers. It lit up her whole face, her green eyes radiant.

  “Well,” Callie continued, “I happen to be friends with a gal who’s in my B-hut. Carrie works over at the ice cream parlor on restaurant row. She knows I have a weakness for ice cream and usually stores my favorites. I go over once a week, usually on a Saturday afternoon, and get a cup of Rocky Road slathered in hot fudge.”

  “I see,” he said. “It’s nice getting to know a little more about you. What else do you like to do if you have a chance?”

  She sat back, holding the mug in her lap. “When I get home, I get thirty days’ vacation, and I head straight for my grandparents’ ranch. I pull on my jeans, my cowboy boots, my cowboy hat, and a long-sleeved white blouse, and go out and get my favorite mare and go riding.”

  “What does it do for you?”

  Callie was struck by the depth of his question. “Peace. Quiet. A chance to heal myself from all I see over here, every day.” She gestured around the room. “I love my family very much, and just getting to be home with all of them heals me, too.”

  “This work could suck anyone dry,” he agreed quietly.

  “My parents taught us to make a difference, Beau. Be something positive. Dara was inspired to go to medical school and become a doctor. I wanted to work in a more grassroots capacity, I guess. I wanted to effect changes, one person at a time. I signed up with Hope Charity out of Los Gatos, California. I have an apartment there, and when I get done with my thirty days at my parents’ ranch, I go home to that city. I work as an office assistant for Hope until it’s time for me to do my six months overseas here, at Kabul.”

  Nodding, Beau added, “Saving one child at a time by giving each a hug?”

  Callie gave him a long, studied look, and felt her heart begin to truly open to this man. He wasn’t like the others, she realized from their unexpected conversation. Never did he talk about himself, what he had accomplished or done in his life. If he talked, he talked in terms of his team. Or his family. It was never about him as an individual.

  “You know,” she began, searching for the right words, “you and I are probably more alike than I ever realized.”

  Beau’s mouth twitched. “I think we’re both people who believe in being a role model, being present, effecting change. I wouldn’t always say that in my line of work that’s true. Sometimes, we take down the bad guys. Sometimes, I have to kill someone.”

  “But you’re killing to protect the innocent, those unable to defend themselves. You protect the villages, the people who live in them. You know how bad off they are. They barely enough food to feed themselves, much less anyone else. And on top of that, you take out the bad guys. You also protect our soldiers from IEDs, ambushes, and attacks. Most of all, you find high-value targets, men who are entering Afghanistan to kill or enslave the villagers.”

  At that moment, there was something so alive, so pulsating, so magical between them, that all Callie could do was absorb the sensation. This was the first time the
y’d both unveiled their feelings.

  Her vulnerability, and his own, took her breath away. She saw from his eyes that he not only felt it, too, but understood that something special was taking root between them.

  Callie had no name for what had just leaped to life and now burned brightly, encompassing them. It almost made her momentarily breathless, just knowing that she could plumb the depths of Beau as a human being. Not just as a man, but as a person who was open and unafraid to stand before her. How rare a gift that was!

  She saw the tumult in his eyes, his feelings emanating like a warm summer rain, enfolding her and holding her safe and protected. Ever since she’d started dating, Callie had had this deep, secret dream of the perfect man for her. But that quickly got knocked out of her as she made one mistake after another with men who disappointed her or used her. Beau was unexpected. She knew black ops guys who were type A tigers. Yet Beau appeared on the surface to be a laid-back type B, easygoing and not competitive. It appealed strongly to her. She liked a man who could be strong when needed but also put away that masculine hardness and connect with his more gentle side. To her shock, Beau was demonstrating it daily. She saw him when he was going on security rounds outside the orphanage. He was all type A male, from his hard, alert expression to the decidedly protective energy around him and the tension he carried from being on guard.

  Right now, he’d put that part of himself aside. Except for her father and grandfather, Callie had never seen any other men with these two distinct facets to themselves. That was why she had wished mightily to meet a man like them. But she never had.

  Not until just now … And maybe dreams did come true. Callie just wasn’t sure, but her heart certainly was. She knew men could be gentle and nurturing, because she’d seen it in her own life. And after so many bad choices and mistakes with men, Callie had decided she was an idealist and that Beau might be the man of her dreams after all. Time would tell.

  CHAPTER 4

  Callie was eager to have dinner with Beau tonight. After he’d massaged her feet, he’d gotten up to attend to his security rounds. Later, near quitting time, she found him diapering three babies in a row. The four Afghan widows took great delight in seeing a man diapering a baby. They stood around the table tittering, hiding their smiles behind their hands. These women were deeply curious about Matt and Beau—especially Beau, because he not only diapered the babies but fed them and rocked them when he wasn’t on security rounds.

  Callie knew Pashto well, although she wasn’t formally schooled in it like Matt and Beau were, and enjoyed watching the widows giggling and whispering. She realized that Beau was the real deal: he was unfailingly gentle around women, granting them instant respect. He listened without interrupting them as so many men often did. Even more surprising, he asked what they thought about specific topics.

  Callie was sure that these women were eyeballing Beau as perfect husband material, but they’d never admit it. Still, it was that boyish smile he shared with them as they watched him diaper their babies that stole her heart. The guy was so damned different from any other man she’d met.

  And his tenderness called strongly to her. She had begun to feel a bit jealous of Dara when she saw Matt drop in on her between patients. He would touch her with such affection that Dara’s eyes would grow soft. Yes, Callie could see there was genuine love growing strongly between them, and she was beginning to like Matt a lot. Maybe her sister had gotten lucky and would be spared going through the fools Callie had met in her search for the right guy.

  Callie moved on, wanting to watch Beau but knowing that sooner or later, one of the widows would probably spot her. She returned to the kitchen, preparing the area for tomorrow morning’s breakfast of hot cereal and milk for their charges.

  “Hey,” Beau called later as he halted at the entrance to the kitchen. “Matt’s ready to roll. Do you need a hand getting things prepped for tomorrow morning?”

  How like Beau to volunteer, she thought. In a few short days, he’d grasped the routine of the orphanage. Turning, she said, “No, but thanks anyway. Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready. Is Dara finished with her last patient?”

  Beau nodded, leaning casually against the jamb to gaze appreciatively at Callie. Her hair was mussed, and she hadn’t had time to stop and comb some of those loose tendrils near her cheeks. His fingers itched to slide them back over her delicate ears, but he told himself, Not yet. He could see how relaxed Callie was around him now. That was progress.

  “I don’t suppose you might consider going out for pizza and beer tonight with me? I’m buying,” he offered casually.

  “Do you live on that stuff?”

  He chuckled. “You got me. Guilty.” He saw a slight smile tug at those soft lips of hers. Beau was ready to give his right arm to taste her; he sensed that Callie would be a hot, hungry lover. She would never be passive or make the man do all the work. No, he’d bet a year’s pay that she’d be one helluva lover, taking as much as she gave. She was the kind of woman who pulled out all the stops, a wild woman in disguise. He’d seen that natural, earthy woman in her belly dancing earlier.

  “How about you choose a place to eat and I’ll buy,” he offered.

  “Well,” she said archly, finished wiping down the counter and folding the cloth, hanging it over the spigot, “I do owe you for giving me the most wonderful foot massage I’ve ever had. Do you like hamburgers and french fries?”

  “That combo sounds like music to my ears,” he said, meeting her radiant green gaze. For a split second, Beau saw something else in her eyes, something that shocked him: barely disguised lust. For a moment, he thought he was making it up. But no, it had definitely been there.

  “Let’s go to Duffy’s, then. First, though, I’d love to go back to Bagram to grab a quick hot shower. Could you meet me at 1900?”

  Beau almost said, You’ve got a date, but bit it back. “Sounds good. I’ll drop by your B-hut.”

  *

  Callie didn’t want to look too closely at why she wanted to shower, wash her hair, and use her jasmine-scented soap on her skin. She had brought two special outfits to Bagram. One was a nice evening black wool pantsuit. The other was a long black wool skirt. She could use the pantsuit blazer with it.

  Dara had already taken off with Matt, who was taking her to the fanciest restaurant on base: a Middle Eastern one reputed to have the best food in Afghanistan. Dara had been so excited—and she looked beautiful in a pale gray pantsuit and emerald-green turtleneck, with her golden hair down around her shoulders.

  Callie knew that Matt loved her blond hair free, not caught up in a ponytail, which was how Dara wore it during office hours.

  Now Callie wanted to look beautiful tonight, too. She had already accepted the fact that Beau was growing on her, and so far there was nothing to dislike about him. Callie sternly warned herself it hadn’t been that long, though, and she wanted to take this one slow.

  But damned if her hormones hadn’t kicked in when he looked like a lazy cougar sunning himself on a mountain ledge in the kitchen earlier. The guy was sensual in a quiet, powerful way, always reminding her that a hunter and predator lived just beneath his placid exterior.

  Callie had no doubt that he was far from laid-back when out on a mission. Beau’s gray eyes gave him away, and sometimes, if he sensed something amiss, she saw him come online as a warrior, that energy gathering around him like a lethal storm. Right now, he was allowing her to see what she termed his “downside,” when he wasn’t being threatened or having to chase after a high-value target.

  Looking in her closet now, she decided on a deep pink cowl-neck sweater to offset her black wool pantsuit. Fluffing her hair, she walked over to the mirror for a critical appraisal. Highlights of copper and gold blazed through her long, lightly curled hair as it cloaked her shoulders. She added a pair of small gold earrings to emphasize strands of her hair.

  Long ago, she’d been given a one-ounce bottle of jasmine perfume for her birthday by her parents.
It had to have cost them an arm and a leg, Callie now realized, and it was straight from Paris. She’d always loved that fragrance since she had first breathed it at the age of four, when her mother had allowed her a dab on the inside of her tiny wrist. Callie sniffed all day, not wanting to wash away the wonderful fragrance from her arm that night. Her mother had smiled and told her that when she was eighteen, they would buy her a bottle. It made her warm with memories.

  Dabbing on just a tiny bit on the insides of her wrists, Callie tried to tell herself that she was doing this for herself, not Beau. In fact, she couldn’t get images of that lazy smile out of her head, or his careful, constant attention to those Afghan children. He was truly a babysitter of the best kind.

  When she thought of him diapering babies, she immediately focused on his large, beautiful hands. She wondered what it would feel like to have him touch her as a lover. Callie didn’t fool herself for one moment. No matter how much Beau had backed off from her, she knew he wanted her badly.

  Could he be wearing her down, little by little? Probably. He wasn’t black ops for nothing. Still, he had promised her he would be a gentleman, and to her, that meant he could look but not touch, unless she signaled otherwise.

  The light scent of jasmine enveloped her for a moment and she inhaled it, taking it deep into her lungs. Tonight, she would put on a bit of makeup. Her long red lashes emphasized her green eyes, but she added a touch of moss-colored shadow above them. Her cheeks were naturally ruddy, and whether she liked it or not, she blushed often and deeply.

  Callie had hoped she’d grow out of such a teenage response, but she never had. To her relief, her mother was the same way. Dara was more like their surgeon father in other ways. Choosing a soft pink lipstick that went with the color of her sweater, Callie stood back, critically assessing herself.

  What would Beau think? He’d always seen her, with the exception of the night of the belly dancing, without any makeup. Her hair had never been down; it was always in a ponytail, like Dara’s. This was definitely a different Callie he’d be squiring around tonight!