Lip Service Read online

“I’m a Titan. I have staff to take you.”

  That made him laugh. “I’m not afraid.”

  “In the immortal words of Yoda, you will be.”

  The plane took off and soon they were soaring into the blue sky. She’d jumped in several parts of the country and had done some mountain climbing in the Himalayas but nowhere else was the sky the color that it was in Texas.

  “Maybe I like you,” he said, his voice coming over the headphones.

  She looked at him. “You don’t know me well enough to like me. Are you dating my sister?”

  “No.”

  She’d been around powerful men enough to recognize that she’d asked the wrong question. “Do you and Skye have a date planned.”

  He barely hesitated. “Yes.”

  “May the best woman win?”

  He shrugged. “Like you said. I don’t know you. Yet.”

  “So you’re going to see which one you like best before picking?”

  “I already have an idea about that.”

  She supposed she was supposed to infer that he was leaning toward her. Big whoop. For all her success with her foundation and as a single mom, Skye was a baby when it came to the real dating world. She didn’t understand that men like T.J. would do whatever it took to get ahead. And she wasn’t going to listen to Izzy on the topic.

  Unless Izzy had proof of T.J.’s sliminess.

  The problem was she didn’t dislike him—she just didn’t trust him. Which left her confused. She was once again forced to ask if she was doing this to save her sister or to help herself to some good-looking guy.

  Izzy hated self-awareness nearly as much as she hated sitting still. Fortunately the plane had reached the right altitude. They stood and adjusted their parachutes, then got into position, leaving their headsets behind.

  “You really going to do this?” T.J. yelled.

  “Of course.” She elbowed him out of the way, walked to the open door, waited for the thumbs-up and jumped.

  The sensation of plummeting toward the earth thrilled every part of her. The air rushed by so fast, she had trouble breathing, but that didn’t bother her at all. It was just her and the day and invisible forces of gravity pulling her steadily down and down and down.

  She laughed from the joy of the moment, from the pleasure of being exactly where she wanted to be. Right now she didn’t care about T.J. or his motives or anything else. She spread her arms and turned in the air, pumped on the adrenaline rush.

  Seconds later, reluctantly, she braced herself and the parachute popped open. The free fall ended in a quick upward jerk, followed by an easy back and forth drifting to the landing spot.

  As the ground raced toward her, she bent her knees and relaxed so the impact wouldn’t hurt, then settled on a spot of brown grass.

  T.J. landed a few feet away. He laughed as he unfastened his parachute, then stalked over, grabbed her and kissed her.

  His mouth was firm and sensual, taking as much as offering. “What a rush,” he said when he released her. “Nothing beats it.”

  She stayed where she was, trying to gauge her reaction to the kiss. It had been fast but nice. She wouldn’t say no to another one, but she wasn’t dying to repeat the process.

  “Some things beat it,” she said. “You’re obviously doing them wrong.”

  It was an automatic response. She flirted with available men. She measured interest and frequently took advantage of the situation because it was fun. She didn’t get involved so there was never a boyfriend to worry about. Life was too short for commitments.

  “Is that a challenge?” he asked.

  “Do you want it to be?”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. She was a lot shorter than him and he had to bend over to kiss her again.

  She put her hands on his shoulders, as much to feel the strength of him as to hang on. She was in no danger of falling.

  While the feel of his lips on hers was nice enough, she couldn’t seem to emotionally detach enough to enjoy the moment. She was thinking too much—about her sister and T.J., about who he was and how much or little she should trust him. His mouth moved against hers, then he nipped her bottom lip. She nipped back, biting hard enough that he drew away.

  “You like it rough?” he asked, sounding a little surprised.

  “Not at all. I’m making a point. I give as good as I get. You might want to remember that when you take Skye to dinner.”

  “No kissing?”

  “I don’t care if you kiss. Just don’t hurt her.”

  He touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “What about you, Izzy? Do you ever get hurt?”

  She smiled. Her? Getting hurt would mean giving her heart. Like that was ever going to happen. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Maybe you need someone to take care of you.”

  The smile turned into a chuckle. “Are you volunteering? Then you don’t know me at all. Take care of me? Right. Say that to my father and he’ll laugh you out of the building.”

  She unhooked her parachute and headed to the waiting truck. Once she’d gotten out of her flight suit, she walked to her car and climbed inside.

  T. J. Boone remained a mystery. Her gut told her that Skye was in danger, but the problem was Skye wasn’t in the mood to listen to well-meaning advice. Izzy knew the smart thing was to walk away. Skye was a big girl and could handle her own life. Except letting her step into danger wasn’t an option. They were sisters and Izzy loved her. That meant learning more about T.J. and very possibly pissing off Skye when she told her the truth.

  “YOU’RE NEW,” Mitch said as he stared at the older man in front of him. “I don’t want anybody new.”

  He also didn’t want to be in physical therapy but that wasn’t an option. He wasn’t progressing as well as he could and he knew the reason. He wasn’t doing what he was supposed to. Not only wasn’t he interested, he didn’t remember half of what the other therapist had told him.

  “I’m not new,” the guy told him. “You haven’t met me before. There’s a difference. I see you still have your chip on your shoulder. I hope it’s not on the left one. The extra weight will make learning to walk a real bitch. I’m Joss.”

  Joss was a fifty-something, muscle-bound bald man with piercing blue eyes and an impressive jungle tattoo running down both arms.

  “Mitch.”

  “Oh, I know who you are. You have an interesting file.”

  “What’s interesting about it?”

  Joss grinned. “Word has it you’re a pain in the ass. That’s why you’re seeing me. I’m good with hard-assed cases. You could have had a pretty girl feeling you up. But you skipped out on your appointments and you haven’t been working out at home. So now you’ve got me. Welcome.”

  Mitch refused to feel uneasy. “I’m busy. I can’t come in twice a week.”

  Joss led the way back to the therapy room where specialized exercise equipment lined the walls. The center of the room had open space and several areas for patients to practice walking between two rails. Mitch remembered his first shaky steps on his prosthesis in this very room. He’d felt a combination of relief to know that he would be mobile and fury that his leg had been lost in the first place.

  Now a half-dozen guys and one woman worked with therapists on various pieces of equipment. They were all sweating from the effort, but each looked determined. As if they expected the therapy to make a difference.

  “You come in when I say come in or you don’t get a permanent prosthesis,” Joss said easily. “You piss me off and I’ll take the one you have.”

  “I used to be a SEAL. How are you going to take it?”

  “Special Forces,” Joss told him. “And you’re the gimp here, kid. Not me. Let’s go in an examining room and see what you’ve done to your stump.”

  Mitch hesitated. Joss narrowed his gaze.

  “What?” he demanded. “Are you still bleeding? I swear to God, if you’re bleeding, I’m going to beat the shit
out of you. What about ‘take it easy’ was hard for you to understand? You want to get back to normal? You want to be able to live your life without coming here all the time? You want to go more than fifteen minutes without fire shooting up your leg? Then you’ll goddamn listen to me.”

  Mitch turned and walked toward the door. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need any of it. He was doing fine and if this jerk wouldn’t fit him for his permanent prosthesis, he’d find someone else who would.

  “You think Pete risked his life to save yours so you could act like this?” Joss asked.

  He didn’t shout the words. Mitch doubted any of the other patients had heard them. Still, they cut through him like glass, ripping into his gut and slicing his heart to shreds.

  Pete was a friend. A good friend. They’d gone through BUD/S training together and had been assigned to the same SEAL team. Mitch knew about Pete’s devotion to his young wife and how excited he’d been when he’d found out he was going to be a father. Pete knew about Skye and how many nights Mitch had lain awake that first year, unable to believe she’d really left him.

  Pete who had faced enemy fire to drag a wounded and possibly dying Mitch to safety. Pete who’d taken a bullet for him. Pete who was already back in Afghanistan, facing it all again because it was his job.

  Joss had spoken the only possible words to make Mitch stay.

  He straightened and squared his shoulders. “I’ve got blood in my sock nearly every day. It’s not the scar opening. There are a few raw spots.”

  “How much are you resting your leg?” Joss asked, then sighed. “Let me put that another way? Are you too stupid to rest your leg during the day?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Admitting you have a problem is the first step, kid. Let’s take a look.”

  Joss led him into an examining room. Mitch settled on the exam table, rolled up his jeans, then removed the prosthesis and the sock.

  “You gotta massage the stump a couple of times a day,” Joss said as he sat on a stool and flipped on a light that he adjusted. “You doing that?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Let me guess. You’re not getting enough rest, or eating right, either.” He pressed down on the stump. “That hurt?”

  Mitch clenched his teeth as fire raced through him. “A little.”

  “Getting a lot of phantom pain?”

  “Some.”

  “Doing the energy work?”

  If Mitch had still been a teenager, he would have rolled his eyes. “It’s total crap.”

  Joss straightened. “Right. The idea that the body has an electrical system is crap. We’ll ignore the fact that brain waves are electrical or what an EKG is measuring. If you can’t see it or touch it, it doesn’t exist. Typical.”

  He stood and folded his arms across his chest. “Just once I want someone to come in here ready and willing to do the work. Just one time. Is that too much to ask? But does it happen? No. We always gotta go through the steps. Fine. Where are you? I’m guessing anger. Maybe some denial. Why did this happen to you? How can you get your life back. Here’s a tip. You’re not the first guy to go through this. We’ve done it before and we know what works. So listen. Make your life easier.”

  If Mitch could have walked out, he would have. As it was, all he could do was turn his head.

  “You need to be doing the massage,” Joss told him. “Energy sweeps. The exercises we gave you. Get sleep, come in for group sessions.”

  Mitch stopped listening. Group sessions. Right. Because he wanted to sit around in a circle with a bunch of people he didn’t know and talk about his feelings. Not that he wanted to do it with people he did know, either.

  “I’m running late,” he said. “Can we hurry this along?”

  He glanced back at Joss, who surprised him by shrugging. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Mitch had expected more of a fight. “That’s it? You’re giving up?”

  “Why not? You have. I got plenty of guys who are begging me for help. One day you’ll be one of ’em.”

  “Not likely.”

  Joss surprised him by smiling. “You’ve got dark days ahead of you, kid. Bad times. But you’ll get through them. When you figure out you can’t do it alone, come back. I’ll be here. But until then, I’m not wasting my time on an idiot.” He handed him back his prosthesis. “Good luck.”

  Then he turned and walked out, leaving Mitch alone in the examination room, feeling very much like the idiot Joss had called him.

  MITCH DROVE BACK to Titanville fighting the anger burning inside of him. He knew it wasn’t helping, but it seemed anger was the only safe feeling. He’d expected to be sore from his session with Joss, but there hadn’t been any therapy. He knew in his head he only had himself to blame—he needed the therapy to adjust to his prosthesis. The problem was he didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to practice some energy sweep over a part of his body that wasn’t there anymore. Didn’t want to attend sessions with other amputees. Didn’t want to have to deal with any of it. He wanted what he didn’t have anymore.

  He drove through town. When he stopped at the red light, he saw Skye walking into Bronco Billy’s. Not sure of his plan, he pulled into the next open parking space and followed her.

  He hadn’t been inside the restaurant in nearly a decade but little about it had changed. TV screens played a Dirty Harry movie. The sound was off but the closed captions told the story. There were posters and movie memorabilia everywhere. Bronco Billy’s was Clint Eastwood in all his glory.

  Skye was already seated at a table, studying a menu. Mitch walked over and pulled out a chair before she realized he was there.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, already taking a seat. “Am I getting in the way of something important?”

  He hoped he was. He hoped he was pissing her off and that she would take him on. A fight, even with Skye, would feel good right about now.

  “Not in the least,” she said, her expression more sad than annoyed. “I know that’s disappointing for you, but there it is. I’m here because I’ve had a bad day and I need a sugar fix. You might want to rethink staying. After all, you’ll be a distraction, which would be a good thing for me. You wouldn’t want that.”

  The waitress arrived before he could answer.

  “Know what you want?” she asked.

  “An Oreo milk shake,” Skye said, handing her the menu. “The really big one.”

  “Make it two,” Mitch told her.

  Skye wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you want your own table? Won’t it be more satisfying to glare at me from across the room?”

  “Not really.”

  He wasn’t budging. Skye could tell. He wanted to bug her and she would guess he thought he could do that better up close. The problem was he did get to her, but not in the way he thought. She wasn’t fighting guilt over keeping a nonexistent secret. The problem of being around him was much more about her reaction to seeing him again.

  Despite his anger, despite the things he said and how he acted, she’d missed him. Buried under the bastard he was pretending to be was a good guy who had loved her with a devotion that made her head spin. He’d been her world and she’d walked away from him.

  All these years later, she couldn’t help wondering what-if. The wonderings were complicated by the knowledge that she knew she’d made the right decision…even if it was for the wrong reasons.

  “We should get to know each other,” he said, surprising her.

  “Why? You hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  She managed a slight smile. “Very touching. And convincing. If the ranch thing doesn’t work out, you could go into advertising.”

  “We have a child together, Skye. Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck together.”

  She wanted to bang her head against the table. Erin wasn’t his. She knew that, but he wasn’t going to believe her. She had a bad feeling that there was a part of him that needed Erin to be his. What would happen when he found ou
t the truth?

  “I don’t want to argue about that,” she said.

  “Then let’s argue about something else. You’re dressed all fancy.”

  She glanced down at her black suit. “I had an emergency board meeting this morning. I find it helpful to dress the part of a powerful woman. I’m faking, of course, but they don’t seem to notice.”

  He frowned. “You’re on a board?”

  “I run a foundation that feeds hungry children in this country. I started it six years ago with the money my mother left me. We’ve grown a lot and now feed over a million children a day.” She leaned back in her chair.

  “Go ahead,” she told him. “Make fun of the rich bitch playing at saving the world.”

  “Why would I do that? You’re doing a good thing. Kids shouldn’t go hungry.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Okay. I thought there would be something more than that.”

  The waitress arrived with their milk shakes. Skye pulled out the whole cookie on top and took a bite, then drank some of the creamy milk shake.

  The ice cream slid down her throat and sugar flowed into her bloodstream. She would swear she could feel it lifting her mood already.

  “Better?” he asked when she’d swallowed.

  “Some.”

  “What’s Izzy doing with her half of the inheritance? I can’t see her running anything.”

  “She’s not the type.” Skye hesitated. “Pru didn’t put Izzy in her will. I don’t know why. Maybe she didn’t think to change it.” There hadn’t been any hint of the reasoning. When their mother died, she left her considerable fortune only to Skye. “I gave Izzy half in a trust fund. She can’t touch it until she’s thirty.”

  “But you got yours at twenty?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I’m very responsible.”

  “Izzy must hate your guts.”

  Skye thought about their recent fight over T. J. Boone and Izzy’s claims that he wasn’t actually interested in Skye as a person. “We’ve had our moments. She wasn’t happy about the trust. But she’s totally wild and crazy. I didn’t want her blowing through the money. I wanted it there to keep her safe.”

  “Does she see it that way?”