Page 37 of Submissive Lies

He studied me with approval, a slight uptick at one end of his mouth, corners of his eyes crinkling as the light of the room danced in them. “Perfect. Thank you.”

The waiter returned with our drinks, and Steve ordered our meals. When the waiter asked if we wanted wine, Steve made no pretense he knew what would be appropriate.

“I’ll have the sommelier come by to assist. He’ll be happy to help you with your selections.”

Steve leaned forward as the waiter moved away. “I really should know what to order, but inevitably I screw it up. Red when it should be white, white when it should be red. Besides, I think I should make them work for every red cent they’re getting, considering what we’re paying.”

I held a hand up to my mouth to stifle a laugh that threatened to be louder than appropriate. His grin tugged across his face right into eyes filled with merriment. The ones I was suddenly falling into again.

The sommelier soon came, and the two discussed the dishes we were having and chose wines. I thought I’d misheard at first, but it was soon clear that—yes—it was wines, plural. One wine, whether red or white, was simply not going to do. We had to have a wine appropriate for each dish, and nothing less would be acceptable. Steve questioned and discussed the wine steward’s suggestions, showing zero self-consciousness over his lack of knowledge. When he seemed confident he’d questioned the steward enough to ensure he wasn’t being taken advantage of, he accepted the suggestions and ordered.

“Excellent choices, sir.”

“Well, it’s not as if I did much. You pretty much pointed out what we needed, and I just nodded my head.”

“I am sure you will be pleased.” The sommelier chuckled politely, then slipped away, leaving us alone once again.

I took a sip from my glass, looking at him as he took a sip of his drink. His mouth curved up, and his gaze caressed my face in a way that was pure temptation. I knew I could give in to desire and spend the rest of this evening in flirtatious, teasing banter, but I was still curious about a few things, so I went for deflection instead.

“So, you were a Marine?”

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. His entire demeanor shifted from seductive to somber in less time than it took me to suck in a breath. My smile slid away on tension that crept up my spine at the abrupt change in mood. Crap. Had I brought up a subject that was taboo? His eyes fixed on mine for a long moment, and panic welled up inside me.

Dammit, Jen! What the hell have you done now?

His gaze flicked to his left and then back front and center. Eyes narrowing even further, one brow quirking up at the corner, he assessed me in silence before the smile stole back across his face. “Hmm. I’m impressed. Figured that out, did you?”

“Well…” I blew out the breath I’d been holding, relief washing through me. “I’m smart like that.” I took another sip of my wine. “How long have you been out?”

“Just over three years now.”

“Ah. How long were you in?”

“Four months shy of twelve years.” He matched my movement, taking a sip of his drink.

“Decided to get out while the getting was good and try something different, huh?”

He stared at me for a moment with eyes that suddenly went cool. When he spoke his tone was curt, but polite. “I suppose you could say that.”

I didn’t understand the sudden change in demeanor. I’d tried to be light, amusing, but Steve’s terse response definitely said he was not taking this the way I'd intended. I cocked my head, scrunching my face up into a quizzical look.

“I was surveyed out.” He answered my unspoken question.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“Sorry.” He smiled apologetically, holding his hand out towards me. “Marine lingo. It means I was medically discharged.”

“Oh… God.” I grimaced, awkwardness pulling my eyes from his. “I’m sorry. You just look… I mean, you don’t seem to be—”

“Jen,” Steve cut in and saved me from saying anything further. “It’s fine. You couldn’t have known. The shrapnel busted up a couple of my vertebra pretty bad. The docs pinned everything back together, but they said there’ll always be a risk of one of them failing if they get overstressed. When I was all healed up they wouldn’t release me back to active duty, so they let me go on a medical.”

“Shrapnel.” I whispered the word, face coming up to stare at him. I knew that word. I’d heard that word before from my father, and it was never in a good way.

“Yeah.” His nod was brief, his voice terse again. “Stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Oh, God, Steve, I’m so sorry. I feel like an idiot…”

He reached over and clamped his hand down on mine. He squeezed tight, our eyes locking once again. “Jen. It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s why you didn’t see me out there doing a lot of the heavy lifting today. I mean I move fine, I feel great, but…” He shrugged, smiling. “Just not good enough to be a Marine.”

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