Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) by Michele Dunaway Page B

redhead who’d ever attracted his interest and Scarlett had been off-limits. In one part of his mind, she still was off-limits. She’d been Todd’s wife. The other part wanted nothing more than to pursue her and make her his.
    He had Todd’s instructions, one of which read, You know Scarlett. She’ll wallow. Make sure you get her out of the house. Make sure she laughs and has fun.
    He now had the perfect opportunity to do just that.
    Her dad said something, and everyone seated around the dining room table laughed. Brad joined in, and then caught Scarlett’s gaze. She smiled at him, and it was like a punch to his gut. She was his dream woman. Always had been.
    Think of her as a mission, Brad told himself as her green eyes crinkled and laugh lines formed around lips he’d long fantasized about kissing again, this time something more than a stolen moment beneath the stairs, swiped before his best friend made his move, a move Brad had known he planned to make. He’d known it was selfish, but he couldn’t stop himself. In a mission, feelings had no place. You needed to follow reason. Intuition. In the SEALs, letting morality and emotions factor into an equation could lead to death and often had. SEALs could look back at missions where brethren had died because they’d done something as simple as releasing a child, which in turn had brought down upon them the full force of hell. Brad hadn’t been in any of those situations, but Todd had. Knew his best friend had purged his conscience with lots of alcohol.
    Yet, when it had come right down to it, despite all of Brad’s best persuasive abilities, Todd had reenlisted. Signed back up with only minor hesitation when considering the wife and child he was leaving behind for a major part of the year. In hindsight, Brad realized it was almost as if Todd was afraid of married life, afraid of how to be father and husband in the normal, everyday world where bullets flying overhead weren’t a common occurrence.
    Perhaps Todd hadn’t wanted to bring home any baggage, or admit to some of the things he’d done. As it was, he’d been deployed approximately eight months at a time, so by the time he’d gotten somewhat settled into domesticity, it had been time to hit the road and head back overseas.
    Maybe some men never outgrew the wanderlust. What was that about the grass being greener on the other side of the proverbial fence? Brad had wanted what Todd had—a wife and kid. A stable, loving home. Someone back in the States that worried and cared—someone besides his mom. Yet despite his best efforts to forget Scarlett, Brad couldn’t, and subsequently all other women paled in comparison. Todd had had the commitment that Brad sought, but his friend had run from it, for his mistresses—the sea and his job—captured his interest more than his wife.
    “Want some help with that?” Brad asked after Scarlett’s parents left. He gestured to the dishwasher. A skeptical eyebrow arched. “What? Did Todd never help?” She answered by handing him a plate, which he slid between the bottom rack tines. “I take it dishes weren’t his forte.”
    “Can’t save the world in everything,” Scarlett said, rinsing and handing him another plate.
    “Well, just call me Mr. Domestic. I’m the new kind of superhero. My mother would be proud.”
    “Well, you saved the day tonight. Thanks for pinning that picture up.”
    “Anytime. My mother covered our refrigerator. Sometimes whole layers of things fell off because the magnets couldn’t hold them. I didn’t even think about that when I installed the appliances. See, I told you that your living here would help me out.”
    He loaded more plates. Put the glasses that came his way on the top rack. Occasionally their fingers would touch, and the water droplets that transferred created a pleasurable little zing.
    “You really didn’t have to stay and help,” she told him as she passed over a set of forks.
    “I’m actually having fun. Nice to