Chapter Twenty

This was going to be embarrassing.

Polly shifted slightly on the couch, her eyes on the dancing fire as she could hear Chase cleaning up the detritus from dinner behind her.

After the awkward yet sexy as HELL ankle-kissing-moment, Chase had practically leapt to his feet, quickly cleaning up the first aid kit, hustling it upstairs, and then began a litany of conversation that didn't let up for hours, covering everything from peace in the Middle East to the Cowboys' chance at a Super Bowl in the next decade.

Clearly, the boy was mortified.

Polly, on the other hand, was turned on.

And that was embarrassing.

She didn't even know this guy anymore, not really, and he's being all concerned and helpful and lovely and…

Oh. My. God.

Maybe he was a foot fetishist!

That was the reason for the ankle kissing…

Polly squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to laugh out loud at the thought of Chase licking someone's stiletto heel.

"You okay?" Chase called from the kitchen, mercifully interrupting the movie playing in her head with the abominable soundtrack…

"I'm fine…" Polly said hesitantly, returning to her original thought before being sidetracked by the Mental Image of the Shoe Licking.

This was going to be embarrassing.

There was no way Polly was going to be able to make it upstairs to go to bed. She'd managed to hobble to the bathroom and back, but sleeping arrangements were a different story.

Also, there was the issue of…

Well, pajamas.

She knew she wouldn't be able to get her jeans down over her wrapped ankle or to easily change clothes without his help.

Hence the issue.

She really liked Chase, but wasn't necessarily ready to walk around commando or have him peel her clothes off like an invalid.

Mm… peeling clothes off….

Once again, Polly forced her eyes open and to stop the video playing her head. Obviously, a combination of a disintegrating marriage and the frustration at needing a REALLY hot sex scene for her book (erotica or mystery: they both needed a hot sex scene) was taking its toll on her.

And yet, she couldn't get the image of frolicking naked with the ex-SEAL out of her head until she heard Chase approach and slump down on the couch next to her.

"You okay?" He asked with a small smile.

"I'm going to start keeping track of how many times you ask me that," Polly said with a grin. "I think we're approaching the thousands at this point. Believe me, you'd know if I wasn't okay."

"How?" Chase asked conversationally.

"I'd be screaming," Polly shot back.

Chase raised an eyebrow and said nothing for a long moment. "You could scream for lots of reasons."

"Such as?"

Polly clapped her mouth shut the minute the words left her mouth. Uh-oh…

"You could be screaming at your laptop in frustration. You could be screaming at Jack for peeing on the floor. You could be screaming…"

Polly raised her own eyebrow, braced for it.

"In…orgasm…" Chase trailed off, a clever smirk on his face. "You know, as part of your… porn writing… research…"

"Uh huh," Polly said after a long moment of studying his profile. "Let me ask you…what makes you think I'm a screamer?"

Chase nearly choked when she said that in her most husky, seductive voice. His eyes flew to hers, and he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes, and he relaxed imperceptibly.

"You aren't a screamer?"

"I could be…well, a moaner, for example."

"You moan?" Chase's eyes lit up, and then she could practically see the mental head slap he gave himself despite the flash of desire that was also there.

"Do you?" Polly fired back.

"I asked first," Chase said, fighting for time.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises – moaning, screaming, whimpering, begging, you name it."

She didn't know anyone's eyes could get so wide.

"I just kind of vaulted over that imaginary line, didn't I?" Polly asked, embarrassed. "I'm sorry… you know what? I'm going to stop talking until at least next year." Polly clapped her lips shut and shook her head ruefully.

There was a long, long pause.

"Honestly, I've never cataloged my sex sounds," Chase's voice was even, but laced with amusement.

"Wow. Sounds like a thesis project," Polly giggled. "The sex sounds of a gillie. We could submit it to Kinsey at Indiana University."

Chase laughed nervously, and Polly felt it was time to retreat. 

"I'm sorry. This is wildly inappropriate. I mean, we don’t really know each other anymore…"

She trailed off as she saw Chase braced to say something. "Actually, I feel like I know you more than 99% of the girls I've met in years. You knew me when I was a wreck, when I was nothing. We knew each other as kids, you know?" He cleared his throat. “We know each other. You know we do.”

"Um… good?" Polly was unsure if this was good or bad.

"It's a good thing," Chase said softly, reading her thoughts.

There was a moment of silence as they both looked at the fire uncomfortably. “Have you ever been in love?” Polly ventured after a long moment.

Chase continued to look at the fire contemplatively. “I’ve had a few relationships, but they generally didn’t last once I got deployed. Or we would get together right before I would ship out, I’d come back and she’d discover she didn’t like me as well as the idea of me. I dated in the corps a bit, but two damaged SEALs do not make a right. Nothing serious, really. Nothing like marriage.”

“Marriage is supposed to be serious, but I’m coming to the realization that…” Polly trailed off, unsure if she wanted to voice her thoughts. 

“What?”

“That I don’t think Matthew ever took ours as seriously as I did. He was my universe’s center – my employer, my husband, my roommate, my lover. I think to him I was arm candy, an easy lay and someone to keep house. And apparently not a great lay, if he had to start buying escort services,” she said wryly.

“I’m sure you’re a great lay,” Chase said seriously, then slapped his forehead with his hand. “Grossly inappropriate?”

Polly laughed. “Yes, but worth it so I can laugh about it.”

“We’re a couple of winners in the dating department, aren’t we?”

“Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough. I mean, if you are going to require a full set of teeth up here…”

“Easy on the Yoopers, Royston. You still are one, you know.”

They locked eyes on each other, both of them smiling and teasing, sharing the moment, but when their eyes met, the tension in the room ratcheted up to about a million.

Time to put a stop to that.

Polly decided since the mood was already decidedly weird…

"Okay, I have a problem."

"What's that?" Chase asked, his eyes immediately flying to her ankle.

"It involves…sleeping arrangements."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Okay…what sort of problem?" Chase asked, struggling to be serious and attentive and not to appear horny and eager.

"Well, for one, I can't get upstairs to my bed. Two, I'm going to have problems with… wardrobe."

"Wardrobe?" Chase looked confused.

Polly shut her eyes, and then blurted, "I can't undress myself."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well, I can help you with that…" Chase trailed off, unsure. "I mean, I could shut my eyes and just, you know, help you wriggle…out of your…you know. Clothes."

"You'll help me wriggle out of my clothes?"

"I said I'd close my eyes!"

Polly giggled nervously, and then mentally squared her shoulders. Her options were limited: sleep in uncomfortable jeans or have Chase assist with wriggling. "Okay. Do you mind getting my tee shirt and shorts from upstairs?"

"Sure…" Chase said, standing up and swaying slightly. He quickly moved towards the stairs and as she heard his footfalls, called after him, "And a blindfold!"

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