Page 16 of Better Late Than Never

“Where do you live?”

“Out in Sanlúcar.”

“Do you have a lot of American neighbors?” I couldn’t remember if many service members lived out there.

Marks shook his head. “My whole street is locals.” He paused, and he seemed to be warming up to the idea. “I have an enclosed driveway, too. Not a garage, but someone would have to really look through the slats of the gate to see your car.”

God, I loved Spanish houses. “Okay. Okay, sure. That’s probably safe enough.”

Right then, the door to the waiting area opened, and a woman walked in with a child.

“Shit.” I got up. “I need to—listen, I’m free tonight. If you text me your address and a time, I can be there.”

He glanced toward the window as he too got up. “I need your number.”

I scratched it out on a sticky note and handed it to him.

“Okay.” He flashed me a smile as he pocketed the note. “I’ll see you then.”

* * *

This was a bad idea.

A stupid, career-threatening, recklesslyterriblebad idea.

I told myself that all the way home, and then all the way to Sanlúcar. We weren’t getting into the territory that would get him disciplined for conduct unbecoming a gentleman and me for… well, I’d never actually looked up what the formal name was for“you’re banging an officer and now you’re in trouble.”And I wasn’t going to look it up now because I wasn’t banging—and wouldn’tbebanging—an officer.

Also, I was driving.

To that officer’s house.

Which wasn’t as serious as banging him, but itwaswell into fraternization territory. The military had a massive bug up its butt about officers and enlisted service members even being friendly with each other. I’d never really understood why. If we were in the same chain of command, fine, but if not, then who the fuck cared?

Big Navy, that was who, and I was too close to retirement to get my ass kicked out.

And yet, there I was, taking the third exit off that roundabout in the middle of Sanlúcar and following the GPS’s directions down a narrow one-way street and up a hill and…

Why am I even arguing with myself? It isn’t like I’m going to turn around.

I didn’t, either. A minute or so later, I pulled up to the house indicated on my GPS. Back at my apartment, I’d grabbed a shower and used that time to talk myself the rest of the way down from this morning’s panic. Now I was still shakier than I would’ve liked, but the nervousness now was decidedly more pleasant. I was here to see a man I had no business seeing, thinking about things we had no business doing, and that was a welcome distraction from everything that had happened earlier.

There was a car parked on the street that I suspected was his, and I parked behind it. Engine idling, I texted him to let him know I was here, and a moment later, the wide black gate started to rattle open. After I’d pulled into the driveway, the gate shut behind me.

And holy shit, Marks’s place washuge. It was brilliant white stucco like so many other houses around here, with a red tile roof and dark hardwood trim. Potted flowers encircled a palm tree beside his front porch, and a wrought iron fence with an ornate gate spanned the front of the villa. Judging by the pale blue reflections rippling on the underside of the eaves, there was a pool in the backyard.

Then the front door opened, and I forgot all about the palatial house.

How dare you look that good in shorts and a T-shirt?

I’d never seen him out of uniform aside from in his pictures on the app, and those pictures hadn’t done him justice. He wasn’t a meathead like some of the guys on base, but he was built and sculpted. Outside of work, his hair was a bit less styled—more finger-combed and even a touch messy, which was so damn sexy.

And without the military bearing that was so ingrained in all of us, he had a relaxed air about him that made my pulse go nuts.

“Hey.” He smiled with a hint of nerves. Or was that shyness? Either way, it was cute. “Come on in.”

Heart thumping hard against my ribs, I came up the steps and followed him into the house. Of course it was equally impressive inside, and it was alsocool. Like, literally cool, probably because of the marble floors at our feet.

“Nice place, sir,” I said.

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