Chances Are(22)

They pulled into a parking space in front of the apartment complex and Jake paused to see if Angela would stay and listen. She didn’t move.

“The chaplain listened while I poured out everything bubbling within me. When I was finished, I thought he’d probably tell me I was right to want to quit, that I would be doing my country a favor. Instead, he just nodded his head and said one simple sentence.”

“What?”

“He told me that when it’s time, God gives you the courage to do what you need to do.” Jake shrugged. “He was right.”

Several seconds of silence passed. Finally when he realized she wasn’t going to ask any more questions, Jake opened his door. He was coming around the car to help her out when she got out on her own and said baldly, “The difference between you and me is that when it was time, you had the courage to follow through. I didn’t.”



Jake stood outside Angela’s bedroom, unsure of his next move. He almost felt like that clueless kid again, struggling with the right thing to do and afraid of doing the wrong thing. What he wanted was to barge into the bedroom, force a confrontation, igniting her anger and that fiery spirit he admired. Seeing Angela so defeated tore at him like a jagged knife. Good judgment told him to let her be—the rest would do her good. Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, she’d have a different perspective.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. Good judgment be dammed.

The sound of the shower from the bathroom should have stopped him. He was aware she took a shower every night after her performance. Dancing worked up a healthy sweat and she’d commented more than once that she smelled. Jake couldn’t tell her that he loved the natural fragrance of her body. Admitting that would get them into a territory he was determined to avoid.

So why the hell was he headed where he was sure to find trouble?

He stopped at the entrance to the bathroom. Steam billowed from the shower but Angela stood in the middle of the room. The humid mist was so thick, he couldn’t see her clearly. He waved to clear his vision and then froze. She was standing in the middle of the room, completely nude with the exception of those damn black boots. Unable to look away, his eyes roamed over her. Yes he saw her almost every night with little more on than what she was wearing now. This was different. The setting was intimate and if he reached out his hand, he’d be touching that soft-as-silk skin. From the tip of her long elegant feet to the top of her beautiful head, she was perfection. Impossibly long legs, slender hips, taut, flat stomach, perfect globes for breasts, slender, feminine shoulders, and a face both exotic and ethereal. It was as if every fantasy of the perfect woman had culminated into the making of Angela Delvecchio.

“I can’t get my boots off.”

While he’d been standing here, salivating like a teenager in the first throes of sexual arousal, she’d been working to remove her clothes to take a shower. Her injured hand prevented her from tugging the boots off. Never had he felt more like a heel.

“Sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll pull them off.”

When she complied, Jake went to his knees and lifted a booted foot. He told himself he was performing a service. Appreciating the view shouldn’t be part of the equation. Yet in this position, how could he not look? She was smooth and hairless, everywhere. He knew about Brazilian waxes. Had heard they were painful. As a stripper, it made sense that she’d had the procedure done. Yet all he could think about was whether or not she’d been like that before this mission and what would she do if he leaned forward and tasted her sweet, moist flesh?

Swallowing hard, he tugged at her boot and removed it slowly, torturing himself as he exposed even more beautiful skin. One boot off and one to go, he glanced up at her face, sure that he would see the same need that was roaring through his bloodstream. Instead her eyes were closed and tears streamed down her face. Hell and damnation, enough with his inappropriate lust. She was suffering.

He removed the second boot, stood and pulled her to her feet. “Get in the shower.” He grimaced at the thick, gruff command but was surprised he’d been able to speak at all.

“I’m not supposed to get my hand wet.”

“I’ll help you.”

She turned and stepped over the rim of the tub. Jake adjusted the nozzle, and grabbed the sponge hanging from a hook on the wall. He poured fragrant liquid soap onto the sponge, recognizing the scent that drove him crazy every time she was near.

“I think I can manage almost everything with one hand but could you stay and prop me up?”

Rivulets of water streamed a caressing path over her shoulders and down her luscious curves. Mesmerized, all Jake could manage was a small grunt of agreement to her request. Then with great difficulty, he pulled the shower curtain closed, shutting out the delectable sight of her soapy body.

Holding her slender, elegant hand in his own, Jake closed his eyes and tortured himself as he imagined the scene behind the curtain. In his mind, her hand became his as he slowly caressed down her body, from soft, beautiful shoulders to her breasts. He swirled the sponge around each ivory globe and then trailed it down her flat stomach toward the soft mound between her legs. His hand moved between her legs and then the sponge was gone. His fingers touched unbelievably hot, smooth flesh and—

“Jake?”

Pulling himself out of his fantasy, Jake managed a thick, raspy, “Yeah?”

“Could you help me wash my hair?”

Oh hell.



Feeling both fragile and powerful at once was an odd combination. She was so disappointed in herself because of her cowardice, a part of her wanted to bury her head beneath the bedcovers and forget reality. But seeing the desire in Jake’s eyes made her feel stronger, more secure. And though she had known Jake was attracted to her, the need she’d seen in his eyes made her realize just how much he wanted her.

And yet, he had done nothing more than look. If she made any advances to him, would that shut him down? His rejection, especially tonight, wasn’t something she was willing to risk. If he turned down her offer, she’d shatter into a billion pieces right in front of him.

She finished her shower, albeit a little awkwardly. How odd to have Jake outside the shower curtain holding her hand. The act was gentlemanly and courteous but also amazingly erotic. The connection of him holding one of her hands while her other one glided over her body was uniquely arousing. Every place she touched, she imagined it was Jake’s hand instead of her own.

Now came the biggest test as she waited for him to respond to her request to help her wash her hair. Though she had been aware of the tenseness of his body outside the curtain, when she asked the question, he went board stiff. Would he say no?

The curtain opened and Jake stood there. If she had thought she saw desire before, it was nothing like what he was experiencing now. Blue fire blazed in his eyes, dark, wicked…knowing.

Angela stood, mesmerized.

He picked up her shampoo bottle. “I’ll pour the shampoo in your hand and then help you massage it in.”

The hoarse growling was barely recognizable as Jake. She did as he asked and then he put her injured hand against the wall, outside the shower. “This will go faster if I can use both of my hands. Keep your hand here.”

When she complied, he said, “Now, bend your head.”

What followed was one of the most erotic moments of her life. Jake’s big, strong hands, along with her much smaller one lathered her hair into a soapy mass of bubbles and foam. Her eyes closed, she swallowed moans of arousal as strong fingers massaged her scalp and the back of her neck. Never had she realized the correlation between her head and her sex. For every strong press of his fingers, a corresponding throb occurred between her legs.

“Rinse.”

Though water gushed over her, she had no problem hearing the husky thickness of his tone.

Standing beneath the spray, she allowed Jake to rinse the soap from her hair. It took an enormous amount of self-control for her not to grab his hand and lead him to other, hidden places aching for his touch.

At last the soap was gone. The water stopped abruptly as Jake turned off the faucet. Angela opened her eyes and watched in agony as Jake turned away. Was he walking out, just leaving her like this?

A large towel covered her head and Angela smiled beneath it as Jake dried her hair. Then, as if it was just another day at the office, he efficiently and effectively dried her entire body.

“Let’s get you out of there before you get a chill.”

He helped her out of the shower and then she stood in the middle of the bathroom, stark naked, and waited for his next move. Yes, she knew she could leave and go throw some clothes on. She also knew she could touch him and probably get what she’d wanted almost from the moment she met him. She did neither—this was Jake’s call.

Every particle of Jake’s body felt like it was on the cusp of explosion. Cupping her face with his hands, he stared down into a dark velvet gaze filled with need. Angela had never closed herself off from him and she wasn’t now. Expressive, beautiful eyes told him she was his for the taking. And God help him, he was going to take all she could give.