Joint Forces by Catherine Mann Page B

on her. Had she wanted him to need her on at least some level? A painful notion because then she would have done her children a disservice.
    Damn it, she'd tried her best to balance everything. He was gone so often, most of the daily parenting fell to her. They couldn't afford a slew of phone calls. The Internet and e-mails helped with keeping him in touch with his kids, but that hadn't been a major-player option until they were older.
    She circled her jumble of bracelets round and round her wrist. No use beating herself or him up about the past. Just do the best she could with their present and future.
    Concentrate on the present, improving the right now. Instead of giving advice, she would ask his opinion.
    "What makes you think there might be something wrong with Chris?"
    "He was late coming home the day of your accident, then again the night you were released from the hospital. Sure he mouths off sometimes like any teenager, but he keeps close to home."
    "Have you asked him what's wrong?"
    "He's had plenty of chances to talk and no dice. I know I haven't been around much, but I sure as hell tried this week, worked out with him, jogged. I even showed him how to fix stuff around the house."
    So Chris could repair things after his father left again? "Did you ask him what he's feeling?"
    His jaw tightened in familiar defensiveness as he down-shifted along the pine-lined entry road leading up to the base. "Men aren't into all that touchy-feely emotional crap."
    "Lovely."
    He rubbed a hand along his neck. "Back down, babe. I respect what you do. God knows, anyone who'd drag her wounded self up there to work is obviously devoted."
    Sure he respected her job. Just didn't believe in it and wouldn't touch a penny of her paycheck for so much as a family vacation to blow off steam created by his job. "Some clients could wait a couple of weeks without setting back progress. With others, it's not so simple."
    "Tough one?"
    Not nearly as tough as getting through to her own husband, but then he wasn't a patient, and she couldn't heal her family. She knew that. But accepting it? Not so easy.
    J.T. flashed his military ID at the security gate and the guard waved him forward. "I'm not looking for you to break confidentiality. Just expressing interest in your world."
    "Thank you." She twisted sideways toward him. "You know that's borderline touchy-feely."
    "Touch?" He echoed the word that had been plaguing her all day—for days, actually. Was he a mind reader now, too? "We probably need to stay away from that subject if we're going to lay some new groundwork for taking care of this little one."
    Of course he was right. She totally agreed. So why was she cranky? She'd won, after all.
    J.T. turned off toward her office, red brick building sprawling in front of her, while he hunted for an empty spot in the jammed lot. She was confident in her job, but still her own screwed-up home life made her question her judgment. And, oh, this man did so have a way of jumbling her mind. "Just as well Chris interrupted last week. We're too old for the over-the-kitchen-counter quickies."
    "We weren't too old for it three months ago. And you sure as hell weren't too old for the table, the stairs, the shower—"
    "Sex was never our problem, J.T."
    Steam filled the truck's cab. He shifted the truck into park. The packed parking lot of empty cars offered a pseudo sense of solitude in spite of the public locale, blue minivan on her left, an RV on the right, even a Humvee in front of them. Still, he didn't reach for her.
    But his hands shook from the restraint.
    Rena launched into his arms. Couldn't help herself. No surprise.
    Did he meet her halfway? She didn't know, and with his lips and hands finally on her, she couldn't think or reason. Only feel. Savor. His touch licking fire through her veins.
    He palmed her back, molded her against his solid body, soft breasts yielding against hard chest.
    And taste, oh, the taste of him as she explored the warmth of his