Marine for Hire by Tawna Fenske

hair was a mess of tangled curls. She ran her fingers through it, not bothering with a comb. Her cheeks were pink and glowy, and her eyes had a definite sparkle. She rubbed her lips together, then brushed on a hint of pink gloss as an afterthought.
    She stepped out of the bathroom, not bothering with shoes. Unlocking the bedroom door, she hesitated, shivering at the feeling of cool air between her legs.
    Maybe she should go back for her panties.
    “To hell with it,” she said, and stepped into the hall. Kelli had ordered her to get her mojo back. Maybe going pantyless to dinner after the best orgasm she’d had in a long time was the first step.
    She reached back and grabbed the wine off the dresser, taking a small sip before padding down the tiled hall toward the front of the house. She rounded the corner, breathing in the fragrance of smoky meat. Sam must be barbecuing, or maybe he really was making kalua pork. Of course, where would he find time to dig a pit in the backyard and roast a whole pig? The idea was absurd, but then this was Sam. Those arms looked like he dug trenches in his sleep.
    She passed through the dining room, the smell of smoke stronger there. She sneezed once, shielding her wine with her forearm. Where the hell was Sam?
    She turned the corner to the kitchen, then froze.
    “Sam?”
    He stood at the rear door, his back to her as he murmured to someone outside. He whirled at the sound of her voice, a guilty expression on his face and two large white bags in his hand.
    “Sheri.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I thought you were taking a bath. I—um—”
    “That’ll be thirty-two-fifty, mister,” a voice said from the back porch. “Plus tip.”
    “Right, right,” Sam said, setting the bags on the counter as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He counted out a few bills, then turned back to the door and handed them to someone outside. “Keep the change.”
    He turned back to Sheri, looking sheepish. “There’s been a slight alteration in our dinner plans.”
    “Cooking mishap?” She laughed and peered in one of the bags. “Oh, God. Did you order kalua pork and cabbage from that place down the street? That’s my favorite.”
    She pulled out one of the Styrofoam boxes and looked up to see Sam’s features flooded with a mix of relief and embarrassment. And maybe a little something else. His eyes flicked to her backside, and she remembered the panties on her bedroom floor. Could he tell she was going commando?
    “I, um—yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m used to commercial ovens, and the last place I worked had a convection oven, so the timing is a little off and the temperature must’ve been—”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Sheri said, waving a hand as she pulled the rest of the boxes out of the bags. “I burn stuff all the time. I like to pretend it’s a culinary technique, but obviously it isn’t. There’s a reason you probably saw more than one fire extinguisher under the sink.”
    “I wondered about that. Still, I’m really sorry. I took the burned roast out to the Dumpster already, and I opened all the windows, but—”
    “Seriously, Sam. Don’t worry about it.” She popped the top on one of the takeout containers, plucking out a piece of pork with her fingers. She sighed with pleasure as she slipped it into her mouth. “God, that’s good.”
    She chewed blissfully, then licked the tips of her fingers. When she looked back at Sam, he was watching her mouth with a funny expression.
    She swallowed, feeling oddly guilty. “Whoops. Guess I should wait for dinnertime? And maybe for silverware.”
    He swallowed and reached into the cupboard for plates. “Silverware’s overrated. I’m always up for using my fingers.”
    She flushed, resisting the urge to look at his fingers and remember where she’d envisioned them five minutes ago. She turned to rinse her hands at the sink, then dried them on a flowery dish towel. “Seriously, if I