Chapter 20

"Am I a grump?" Wow, that was smooth. I would slap myself but my hands are currently preoccupied with bags of food. I may have bough more items than necessary. While the woman always picks the same entree, she likes to test out different appetizers which prompted me to order four.

Mac stares wordlessly and two seconds later begins to speak but I absolutely drown her out when I notice the mess in her apartment. A lamp lays on the ground in a mess of glass and cables. Her coffee table is broken, splintered and balancing only on one leg. Her sofa, the cushions are strewn all over.

Without invitation, I step inside and the bags in my hands drop with a muffled thud. I no longer care about good Italian food and chocolate mousse when I see the angry red blotch on Mac's forehead.

Her shirt, a pretty button down in white with tiny flowers all over, is ripped in one spot and several buttons are out of their eyelets. What angers me the most is the delicate skin of her wrist, the right one that bears the clear mark of large fingers. The bruise is purple and ugly and I can't stop myself from touching her. "What the hell happened?"

I grab her by the forearm as gently as possible and raise Mac's arm so that I can study the mark.

My hand then brushes across her forehead and I stop breathing when she says one name,

"Mic...And I'm fine, you don't need to worry." Mac pulls her hand out of my grasp and takes a step back.

Murderous intent begins to bubble again and this time it won't stop with the hammer of a gun striking a dud. This time there will be blood, a lot of it because I won't stop until I kill the fucking sonofabitch. "What did he do?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She smirks, shrugs and tries to downplay the whole thing all the while using a broom and dustpan to clean some of the mess.

"Mac, what the hell did he do?"

"He came over to work on a case. At least, I thought it was work but about twenty minutes in he tries to make a move." She explains what began as a hand on her shoulder was then a hand on her breast following a kiss Mac didn't ask for. So she retaliated in fine Marine fashion. "I introduced his nose to my forehead, his back to my coffee table and his head to my lamp."

I take a look around again and imagined the scenario. Mic is bigger than her but given Marine training, especially the kind that teaches how to use body weight to overpower an opponent, Mac could kick most men's asses. "Oh..and your wrist?"

"Not his fault, I offered a hand to help him up, he fell and grabbed on too hard. I won't file charges but he sure as hell won't be working with me come Monday."

I want to argue, to rage but then her eyes drop to the bags still on the floor. Her eyebrow rises, in a cute expression that turns me into absolute goo. "What is that?"

"Uh...Food. Italian from…"

"Filomena? Oooh!" Her eyes light up in my presence for the first time in weeks and I mentally slap myself. Of course the way to her heart was a good, hearty meal. She bends to grab the bags and practically bounds to the kitchen.

I stand in the living room surveying the damage once more. Brumby may not die tonight but we will have words, none of which he'll like.

We sit in the dining room eating in a companionable silence. The tension is there, lingering but it's not as stifling. "That was good."

"It always is."

Mac sighs contentedly. "We were gonna order pizza, he's the no pineapple on pizza kind."

I grin. On the long flight from DC to Belfast a fee years ago, Mac imparted some information I found extremely amusing - her choice for pizza would make or break a relationship. Mic shot himself in the foot. "So not your type then?"

"Nope. But it wasn't even the pizza. He was so so full of himself. I gave him absolutely no signs I was interested other than licking my lips because they felt dry and...uh, men."

To be fair, the lip licking thing is sexy as hell, especially when her tongue darts out and slowly licks the bottom lip. She can seduce me without trying and I take a few big gulps of cold water that I choke on.

Of course, I'm choking. Something has to make this whole situation comical and after a few unnecessarily strong whacks, Mac settles back into her chair and watches me. Her eyes darken and her expression begins to turn less than amused. She sighs and I can't tell if it's the good type or the bad type. "I asked you to stay away."

Her tone is even and calm which I know may change in a heartbeat so I take a sip of water and sit back myself. "Yes, ma'am you did. But, I felt I needed to bring you a peace offering."

"It was a good try." She eyes the plates, folding her arms across her chest and there's a smirk. It's not that full blown, knock your socks off Mac smile but, I'll take what I can get. "You do the dishes and I'll let you plead your case."

"I would appreciate that, Colonel."

"Call me, Mac."

I really don't know how we used up this many dishes but, I take my time with them. She's watching, of course. I feel Mac's eyes on me even though she's been tasked to brew some coffee. "Why did you ask me if you're a...grump?"

"Oh...that."

"Yes, that. It's the silliest question you've ever asked me."

I eye her over my shoulder, she's leaning against a counter and has a bag of peas over the bruising on her wrist. Really, I may need to consider killing Brumby, it's the only sensible thing to do. "Mom. She says 'hi' by the way...Mom said that I'm a grump. I'm not grumpy, am I?"

She sighs and it's long and heavy and when I fully turn to face her, Mac's making a face as if strongly contemplating my quierie. "Well, I guess she's sorta right...You can be fun but, you need to...Oh, I don't know...let go a little more."

Let go? That term gets used a lot around me and other than a few situations, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. "What exactly does that mean?"

"You don't have to uh...you know… be so rigid."

"Me? Rigid? How about you, Colonel? I heard some of the enlisted believe you have a stick shoved up your six."

"I'm a woman in the military, I don't get a pass. And we're not talking about me." She gives me a terse smile and then bites her lower lip. I hate the tension between us because it's no longer sexually charged and easily avoidable. This is different, it weighs and is uncomfortable like she's parked a humvee onto my chest.

And then she says her name, "Diane."

The name once brought elation and then heartache. Now it's sadness and anger. I'm sad she was killed, how a stalker made her life a living hell until the end. I'm angry at how she played with my emotions when she was alive. I'm furious with myself. "That's passed."

"Is it? Do you even understand what would have happened? Every criminal you helped locked up would be there with you. Murder carries a death sentence and the evidence against you was insurmountable."

She trails off and I see a tear slip out of her eye. I had considered the ramifications of my actions but perhaps not enough. An officer murdering another officer, premeditated and with no one to really break down Diane's letter. Even if I felt it was justified, the courts would throw the book at me.

It's quiet as I finish the dishes which I dry and then put away. Mac has prepared my coffee just how I like it and I hide a smile at that kind of domestic simplicity. "I wasn't thinking. I found a letter I missed years ago, I had to do something."

"I know."

"Mac, I can't go back in time. If I could I would have stayed with you and not gone after Holbarth." I also would have never become involved with Diane. The more I think about my conversation with mom, the more I realize she was right. "Diane and me had a moment. And yeah, you sort of look like her but the differences, I find more every day...She's gone, it's over - a past.."

"Is it? You still look at me funny sometimes as if trying to make me into someone I'm not."

Oh God, is that what she thinks? Is that why she believes I couldn't keep away from her? Oh, Mac. She stares into her cup of coffee in effort to hide her eyes from me. Despite every warning bell going off in my head, I dry my hands, take the short steps to stand in front of her and pull the mug from her grasp.

Her eyes follow my actions, when I place the mug behind her and my hands start at her shoulders and slowly slide down until they fold over hers. "Sarah, I'm an idiot who is begging for another chance."

My fingers wrap around one hand and carefully raise it up, plastering it where my heart should be. I know it's beating wildly, she must feel it too and the sound is nearly deafening in my ears. "I had feelings for her, ones that I couldn't get a hold of. But, Diane never made my heart race like this."

"Harm…"

"Your eyes take on the prettiest shade when you cry. Like they get clearer almost... I hate that about you, I don't want to see you cry." And I don't want to be the reason for those tears.

The effort to pull out of my grasp is brief because I feel her fingers press firmly as her eyes come up to meet mine. "I still have feelings for you, but I can't do this with you again. It's best if we're only friends."

"You don't mean that." My fingertips press against the pulse point of her inner wrist and I feel her heartbeat, it races as wildly as mine and every action her body takes betrays that stoism that goes on like armor when Mac is in uniform. "I can't stay away from you anymore...I'm…I'm..."

I let myself fall this time and ignore the fear that made me shelter my heart for too long. She broke down my walls, chipped away until she was able to crawl into my very soul. I don't know if she'll ever forgive what I've done but as I lay my heart out, I only hope she never breaks it.

"I'm in love with you. I've never felt like this about anyone. I fell in love. I didn't want to, so I tried to stop it. But, I'm still in love with you."

The breath wooshes out of my lungs and I actually need to catch myself. The revelation is so freeing, I feel a little dizzy. Mac stands with her hand still trapped under mine, wordlessly staring at me as if I've lost my mind. She doesn't say anything but when her tongue darts out and licks her lips I'm drawn to the motion like a moth to a flame.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask and with the smallest of nods she grants me permission. My lips capture hers in a kiss that has her melting into my arms. The hand on my chest clutches my shirt, the other snakes around my waist and I'm reminded of every wondrous night spent in her arms.

When we break apart her lips are swollen, her eyes half lidded and hazy, it's one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. "Oh, I forgot something...wait here...don't go anywhere. Don't move."

I fly out of her apartment, taking the stairs because the elevator takes too long and when I return Mac's still in the kitchen plating the mousse cake. She breaks into laughter when I present her the flowers: an assortment of wild blooms. "Flowers? You raced off to get me flowers?"

"They're wildflowers. You kept throwing the roses away, I had to improve on my peace offering." Mac buries her nose in the flowers taking in the scent of a bouquet that is plesantly fragrant.

When her eyes meet mine I feel a distinct rumble in my chest, the butterflies in my stomach that feels like a zoo. Her smile is so radiant it's infectious and those lips are like a fine wine I'm addicted to. I don't ask to kiss her this time, I just do.