Part 1 (2/2)

But any mention of giving in to the pain would have p.i.s.sed Izzy off royally were he in Jenk's tiny boots, so he took charge. ”He's fine where he is,” he told Dan, told Jenkins, too, because the man looked like he needed encouragement, and adding to Dan, ”Don't bother with your belt.”

Izzy found his spare bungee cords in his vest pocket and pulled out a couple. Those little suckers were useful, even when the SEALs weren't up in the mountains. They would work better than a belt to keep Jenk's broken arm supported by that piece of wood.

The wood, however, left much to be desired. So Izzy tossed Dan the cords, reaching down and untying his own bootlaces, even as he told Jenk, ”I say go for it. Buy the house of your dreams.”

As he'd expected, Danny objected, which was good. Jenk needed a little distraction. ”And hold two mortgages if the condo doesn't sell?” Dan said.

”Sure, why not?” Izzy quickly stripped off his sock. It was a little soggy and extremely aromatic, but it would do the trick.

Dan was sputtering. ”Because...it's insane?” But he saw what Izzy was doing and held out his hand for the sock and covered the piece of wood's ragged end with it, even as Izzy jammed his bare foot back into his boot.

”No, it's not,” Izzy told Jenkins as he took the sock-covered wood from Dan and tested it against his own hand. Not great, but much better. Uncovered, that slice of raw wood would've sc.r.a.ped the s.h.i.+t out of Jenkie's palm. His sock gave it at least a little bit of padding and protection. ”Because if you don't sell it, you can rent it. That's a great Plan B, my brother. You know, my lease is up in a month. I could be your tenant.”

Jenk and Lindsey's condo was much nicer than his current place-which stupidly still reeked of memories of Izzy's too-short marriage to Eden. Although how that could be, Izzy didn't understand. He'd been married to her for...what? A week? d.a.m.n, he'd only made love to her once-but it had been in his bed, in his bedroom, in his stupid, stupid apartment, on their wedding night.

It had been an event of momentous importance that Izzy still dreamed about-both feverishly at night and in unguarded moments during the daytime, when his thoughts wandered off to a fantasyland where wishes came true.

Not only was Eden uncommonly beautiful with her big brown eyes and l.u.s.trously dark hair, her flawless smooth skin, heart-shaped face, that sensual mouth that was quick to smile. But she also got Izzy's jokes. She spoke his language. She was funny and smart and courageous, and yes, a little bit crazy. Reckless. Unafraid to dance to a different drummer.

All that, plus a body that didn't quit...?

Back when they'd first met, Izzy'd fallen in l.u.s.t with her at first sight, and solidly in love within the first five minutes they'd talked. But she didn't stay in San Diego for long. She left almost immediately, to visit her Army sergeant father in Germany.

But then, six months later, when Eden had resurfaced back in the States, she'd been six months pregnant and in dire need of a knight in s.h.i.+ning armor. So Izzy'd married her, even though there was no way on earth that baby she'd been carrying could have possibly been his.

But he didn't care. He just wanted to be her hero.

And to get into her pants. Which he'd done after marrying her.

But then she'd miscarried, lost the baby, and run back to Germany. And spent the past ten months refusing to see him.

Even though he'd gone all the way to Europe to try to see her, more times than he could count.

”Jenkins has a two-bedroom,” Dan pointed out. ”What are you going to do, get a roommate?”

”Ooh, Dan,” Izzy said. ”Great idea. We could finally live together.” He held the splint out so that Jenkins could put his wrist against it. This was the part that was going to hurt, but Jenk nodded for them to do it, just get it over with. He closed his eyes.

But it was Danny who made the choking, gagging sounds as they got Jenk as patched up as he was going to be-at least until he returned to the base and saw a doctor.

But Izzy couldn't resist pus.h.i.+ng it, even though the last thing he wanted was Danny freaking Gillman for a roommate. ”Seriously, Dan, if we split the rent it would be pretty cheap. You're not going to keep bunking in the enlisted quarters, are you, now that you and Jenn are tight? What are you going to do when she comes to San Diego to visit? It's time you moved into big-boy housing.”

”Go f.u.c.k yourself,” Dan said, genuinely p.i.s.sed. Apparently Izzy had trod on a hot b.u.t.ton. Interesting. Was it the mention of Jennilyn visiting or just the mention of Jennilyn?

”I've found that I'm a little shy,” Izzy said, ”for such blatantly public displays of self-affection. Besides, I like to be wined and dined before I have my way with myself. I'm an old-fas.h.i.+oned kind of guy.”

”Old-fas.h.i.+oned,” Dan scoffed. ”Is that the excuse you use to convince yourself that you're not a s.h.i.+thead? I'm old-fas.h.i.+oned, because back in the eighteen hundreds men regularly took children as their brides... I'm old-fas.h.i.+oned, because back in the eighteen hundreds men regularly took children as their brides...”

She wasn't a child, Izzy stopped himself from saying, because he was not not going to talk about Eden anymore. Not with anyone-and especially not her a.s.shole brother. That part of his life was over and done. In fact, as soon as he got back to San Diego, he was going to ask the senior chief for some help in finding a divorce lawyer. going to talk about Eden anymore. Not with anyone-and especially not her a.s.shole brother. That part of his life was over and done. In fact, as soon as he got back to San Diego, he was going to ask the senior chief for some help in finding a divorce lawyer.

But Dan was into t.i.t-for-tatting, and since Izzy had stumbled onto one of his hot b.u.t.tons, dude now felt compelled to jump with both feet onto Izzy's.

In the past, Izzy would have risen to the bait and their conversation would've gone a little like this: Dan: At the end of the day, you're the one who was banging a seventeen-year-old At the end of the day, you're the one who was banging a seventeen-year-old.Izzy: She was eighteen. And I didn't bang her She was eighteen. And I didn't bang her.Dan: Oh, excuse me. You made beautiful, tender love to her. That's right, I always forget. It was the four hundred and seventeen guys that came before you that she banged Oh, excuse me. You made beautiful, tender love to her. That's right, I always forget. It was the four hundred and seventeen guys that came before you that she banged.Izzy: Don't you say that s.h.i.+t about her- Don't you say that s.h.i.+t about her-Dan: She used you, man. She uses everyone. Why don't you just face the truth and move on? She used you, man. She uses everyone. Why don't you just face the truth and move on?Izzy: (throwing a punch) Why don't Why don't you you go f.u.c.k yourself...? go f.u.c.k yourself...?

”Y'okay?” Izzy asked Jenk instead as the other SEAL experimented with the splint, cautiously moving his arm. Dan was watching closely, too.

And this time when Jenk nodded, it was a solid yes yes.

At that, both Izzy and Dan turned in a unison that couldn't have been more precise had it been ch.o.r.eographed, and they went in separate directions-Dan toward Lopez, and Izzy toward Tony V.

It was clear that they didn't need a debate or a discussion to agree they'd already spent far too freaking much time together today.

Although the good news was that neither of them was walking away with a b.l.o.o.d.y nose.

Of course, there was still a lot of daylight left.

NEW Y YORK C CITY.

THURSDAY, APRIL 16, 2009.

Jennilyn LeMay was having a day.

It had started when she got to work and realized that she'd gotten the mother of all runs in her pantyhose, and that she didn't have a spare pair in her desk drawer.

She'd only had time for the quickest trip to the drugstore on the next block over, but that proved ineffective. Unbelievably, they were completely out of queen-size in every color and every conceivable brand, as if the place had been descended upon by a drove of bargain-hunting opera singers. Best Jenn could find, way in the back behind the tube socks, was a pair of thick white tights that were labeled both queen-size and and pet.i.te-clearly designed for two-hundred-pound height-challenged nurses, rather than giantesses like Jenn who weren't quite six feet tall if they both lied and slouched. pet.i.te-clearly designed for two-hundred-pound height-challenged nurses, rather than giantesses like Jenn who weren't quite six feet tall if they both lied and slouched.

No doubt about it, as far as her hopes went for-quite literally-covering her a.s.s, the fat lady was singing.

While wearing seventy pairs of pantyhose.

The store clerk helpfully went to the same rack that Jenn had already searched before informing her that they still had plenty of size large-maybe that would work. She then turned and looked at Jenn, squinting slightly as she appraised her, adding, ”Probably not.”

And yes, lady. You got it. There was was no way in h.e.l.l that Jenn was going to be able to squeeze herself into plain old regular large. And thanks a billion for the pre-coffee esteem-bludgeoning judgment. no way in h.e.l.l that Jenn was going to be able to squeeze herself into plain old regular large. And thanks a billion for the pre-coffee esteem-bludgeoning judgment.

Sticking out her tongue and announcing, ”My super-hot Navy SEAL boyfriend likes me just the way I am,” seemed a little childish. Especially since she'd been cautious about referring to Dan Gillman as her boyfriend to her friends and family-let alone acquaintances.

It wasn't that he didn't fit the definition. He sent her an e-mail every day, when he could. Usually it was brief-Too tired to say more than hey... was a common one, along with was a common one, along with Thanks for the package Thanks for the package, and Dreamed about you again last night, wild woman... Dreamed about you again last night, wild woman... But sometimes he wrote her long, intimate e-mails about his highly dysfunctional family, about adventures he'd had growing up, about his plans for the future, about the unjust oppression of women that he witnessed every day, about a myriad of things that mattered to him. But sometimes he wrote her long, intimate e-mails about his highly dysfunctional family, about adventures he'd had growing up, about his plans for the future, about the unjust oppression of women that he witnessed every day, about a myriad of things that mattered to him.

And she e-mailed him back, also every day. She sent packages to him, too, sometimes as often as twice a week.

And yes, the first and only time they'd met they'd shared some ridiculously excellent s.e.x along with a whole lot of intimate pillow talk. That, too, worked with the standard boyfriend/girlfriend definition.

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