Holy shit.
There was no mistaking the shiny swish of dark hair, or the sweetly curved ass beneath the snug white shorts. Jamie stopped breathing.
Rachel.
She hadn’t changed much in the three years since he’d last seen her, except she was even sexier than he remembered. Admittedly, the encounter at a popular L.A. restaurant had been so brief and unexpected, she hadn’t even seen him. But Jamie had recognized her. More importantly, he’d recognized the man who’d been aggressively hitting on a pretty brunette near the restaurant bar, while Rachel had sat at an outdoor dining table waiting for him to return with their drinks. She’d always had terrible taste in guys, as evidenced by her choice of husband.
Jamie had thought about that night so many times over the last few years, and still regretted he hadn’t gone over to say hello to Rachel. Or better yet, outed her dirtball spouse. In his fantasy, Rachel always slapped Deke hard across the face and declared their marriage was over. Then she ran, teary-eyed, from the restaurant. That’s where he came in, offering a strong shoulder for her to lean on. The fantasy always ended with the two of them in his bed.
She hadn’t yet spotted him standing in the middle of the street, staring at her like an idiot, and for a moment Jamie thought about turning tail and running. Only there was no running in his current condition. There was only painstakingly slow, snail-like progress. But he didn’t want her to see him like this, looking so fucking pathetic. Maybe, if he stood perfectly still, she wouldn’t notice him. Or maybe he could turn away and if she did happen to look in his direction, she wouldn’t recognize him. He was about to do that when her gaze swung toward him, and their eyes locked. He saw the precise instant when recognition caused her eyes to widen, and then sweep over him. Her mouth formed a wordless oh.
He smiled, feeling as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. “Hey, Rachel. Long time, no see.”
“Yeah,” she responded, sounding a little stunned. “Jamie, right? Wow. I would never have guessed. You look…great.” Her expression immediately turned contrite. “I mean, except for the leg. What happened?”
Jamie shrugged. “A mortar attack in Syria, and I was trapped beneath some debris. No biggie.”
No biggie. He sounded like a complete moron, and for the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait to get away from Rachel McCafferty. He wasn’t prepared to see her, and was definitely not ready to talk to her. She’d caught him completely off guard. She was even prettier than he remembered, and it was all he could do not to stare, bug-eyed, at her. He had an impression of slim, bare legs and a silky top that clung to her curves. She was so freaking beautiful, it hurt to look at her. He quickly looked away. It seemed some things never changed, like whenever she was near his brain stopped synapsing.
Now she looked uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know what to say, either. If she followed the news, she’d know the attack on the Marine compound five months earlier had been deadly. He’d lost two buddies that night, and had been trapped beneath the rubble for an agonizing eighteen hours before he’d been rescued. He’d been lucky; his injuries had been extensive, but not life-threatening.
“How long are you home for?” he asked, ignoring the warning bells jangling in his head, telling him to just let her go. Because what was the point in small talk? She’d married some dude on the East Coast, and that was that. The guy was a total dick, but Rachel had hitched her wagon to his horse. Or at least to his little Porsche Carrera.
“I’m not sure.” She shrugged, looking both uncomfortable, and something else. Angry? “A while,” she finally said. “At least until I find my own place.”
Jamie’s antennae went up, and he sharpened his gaze on her. “Oh, yeah? You moving back here?”
She looked away for a moment, and cleared her throat. Jamie had the distinct sense she was struggling to compose herself. When she turned back to look at him, there was no mistaking the sheen of tears in her dark eyes, and she swiped at them with her fingertips.
“Yes.”
“Hey,” he said, frowning at her distress. He’d never seen Rachel cry. He moved closer, until he was in her driveway. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You could say that. Deke and I just got divorced. Like literally, just a few days ago.” She flapped a hand. “I mean, we haven’t lived together for almost two years, but the papers just came through the other day, and I don’t know…it just seems so final. The end of a chapter.” She drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “I had to get away, so here I am.”