“I stayed in touch,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “It’s easy to keep friendships going with Skype, Facebook, text.”
“But it’s like the last ten years never happened.”
“This is true.”
“Got a second? I want you to meet some friends of mine.”
“Sure,” she said, and followed him back to the loose cluster of people.
He introduced her to Keenan and Rose, then to Jack and his date, Erin, and from there to Jack’s grandmother and a whole subset of Lancaster society. He watched her, knowing the strong lift of her chin hid her lifelong awareness of being from the East Side rather than from the Hill. But when he saw her step back and gesture for Lyssa and Grace to join them, then introduce them to Helen, he knew what she was doing. She carried deeply rooted shame that made walking through the Garden Club’s pristine white doors so hard for her, but she never stopped setting an example for her players. They had earned the right to be here, regardless of their families’ lives, their poverty, their uncertain futures. If she could do it, so could they.
When the cocktail hour wound down, people started splitting up to drive over to the Met. “I’ll catch up with you,” Jamie said to his parents. A minute later, Charlie strolled out of the koi carp garden. “Can I get a ride to the Met?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your parents, your brother, and eight of your former teammates were here, and you’re asking me for a ride?”
“They left me,” he said, grinning shamelessly at her.
“What about your SEAL teammates? What happened to no man left behind?”
“The motto doesn’t cover cocktail parties at garden clubs,” he said seriously. “Then it’s every man for himself.”
“I’d think that’s the most important place it covers,” she muttered, and fished her keys from her tiny purse. “Come on.”
The Garden Club covered twenty acres of land north of the railroad’s former headquarters. To get to the Met they had to drive through the East Side, right past the basketball court. “Pull in for a second,” Jamie said.
Her forehead wrinkled, but she obediently steered into the parking lot. A few kids were shooting around, too focused on their pickup game to pay much attention to them, even in uniform and fuchsia. “What are we doing here?” Charlie asked. “You have to be at the Met in fifteen minutes. I know this because I looked over the schedule Grace and Lyssa put together.”
Jamie ignored her, just took her hand and led her into the trees, consciously slowing his pace to respect her heels. When they reached a secluded glade, he turned to her. “Do you have your lipstick with you?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I’m going to kiss that right off your mouth,” he said.
He did just that, pressing her back against a tree, one arm braced on the trunk beside her head, the other wrapped around her waist to hold her close. The heat of his body quickly seeped through his uniform and her dress. In her mind’s eye she pictured them, dress white uniform against fuchsia cocktail dress, her hair spilling forward to hide their faces. She kept trying to bend her knees and get their faces on a more even level, but every time she did, he shoved into her, pushing her upright.
“You’re a fucking goddess. A warrior queen,” he growled against her throat. “I’ve wanted to do this for so goddamn long.”
She pushed away, blinking, and said, “Jamie, I can’t. Not … now. Or here.”
“I know,” he said, tone laden with regret and desire and controlled frustration. “Consider this,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the swell of each breast, then tipped his head up to slip his tongue between her lips, hot and slick and teasing, “a prelude to what’s going to happen later.”
She stared at him, then took a deep breath. “Come on. You’re going to be late.”
Chapter Seven
Charlie resisted the urge to touch her fingertips to her lips. A quick reapplication of lipstick before she got out of the car told her everything she needed to know. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glowing, and Jamie looked like the cat that swallowed the canary as he walked into the Metropolitan Club like he owned the place. People were streaming in, the valet parking attendants catching tossed keys and helping elegantly dressed women from cars.
Grace, Lyssa, and most of the rest of the team stood in a cluster outside the tall double doors thrown open to admit people into the elegantly appointed foyer. They caught sight of Jamie and Charlie together. Eyes widened, mouths opened, and Charlie heard a soft ooooh that ranged up and down the scale.
“Go on ahead,” she said to Jamie. “You’re the keynote speaker. They’re going to be worried until you’ve checked in.”