Desert Rose (Book #1 - Warrior Series)

by Laura Taylor

“EMMALINE, IF you don’t snap out of this depression fairly soon, I’m going to insist that you see Dr. Mercer. Perhaps he can do for you what the rest of us have failed to do.”

  Emma gripped the telephone until her knuckles turned white. She knew her mother’s concern was legitimate. She’d been wandering around like a lost puppy since returning to Southern California six weeks earlier.

  Her parents were worried sick about her, her sister kept threatening to deck the first Marine Corps officer who crossed her path, and her brother called at least every other day from Paris to check up on her.

  “For the record, Mom, no one’s failed me, and I’m not depressed. Just kind of sad.”

  “Anger’s the next stage, and you’re darn close,” Mrs. Hamilton cautioned. “So prepare yourself for it, darling.”

  “You know me too well, but quit worrying. I’ll bounce back. I always do.”

  “As I see it, you’ve got two choices. Either find the man and talk some sense into him, or get on with your life without him. There’s no middle ground in this situation.”

  “David doesn’t want me. He’s made that very clear.”

  “Then he’s a fool, and you’re better off without him.”

  “He’s not a fool, just very strong-willed.”

  “Stubborn,” her mother corrected, “and that particular personality trait in a man can be hell on a woman’s emotions.”

  Emma laughed, recalling the noisy confrontations of her childhood between her very emotional Italian mother and her determined Irish father. Their personalities frequently clashed, but they’d never stopped loving each other. Not ever.

  “That observation sounds like personal experience talking,” she teased.

  “Now don’t get me started on your mule-headed father. There are times when talking to that man is like trying to communicate with a rock, but I love him. I guess forty years of indulging his little quirks has become something of a habit.” She changed the subject with typical abruptness. “Let’s have lunch tomorrow. I can get away from the gallery around one.”

  Emma smiled, aware of her mother’s food preferences. “Any good ideas?”

  “What else? L’Auberge in Del Mar at one. I’ll put it in my book.”

  “Give Dad a hug for me.”

  “You could do that yourself if you drop by this evening.”

  “Maybe later in the week or over the weekend,” Emma hedged. “Dad will try to talk me into going back to work. I’m not ready yet.”

  “You won’t have to take any trips back to the Middle East.”

  “That’s not the problem, and you already know my feelings on that subject. Our work there is important, and I refuse to be intimidated by bullies, thugs, or dictators. It’s just that I want a little more time to myself. I really need it.”

  Her mother finally admitted defeat. “Alright, darling, but take care, please, and stop moping around. It’s not healthy. Try out that new cookbook I gave you, or go shopping for some clothes. You need a new cocktail dress for the Child Feed fundraiser next month. If those ideas don’t appeal to you, call your sister and make a date to see a movie.”

  She smiled, aware that she wasn’t ready to take any of her mother’s advice. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  Setting aside her cell phone, Emma felt torn between gratitude to her supportive family and the aching sense of loss she still felt. She loved David, even more now than when they’d parted.

  Two weeks of pampering by her mother and sleeping in her old bedroom at home, as well as a month of privacy in her own beachfront cottage hadn’t changed her feelings or her needs. Wandering into the kitchen, Emma paused in front of the glass-paned French doors.

  Her gaze drifted across a wide stretch of deserted beach to linger on the white-capped Pacific Ocean. It was unseasonably cold for March; an advancing storm had already darkened the sky and made the ocean swells appear angry and threatening.

  Emma abruptly turned away from the view. Feeling dissatisfied with herself, she knew she couldn’t continue mourning the loss of a man who didn’t love her. I’m pining away like some helpless twit in a Victorian novel. I want me back, and I want my life back.

  Seizing a plastic bucket, Emma filled it with warm water and detergent and then located the sponge mop. She needed activity, she told herself as she dunked the mop into the bucket and squeezed out the excess water.

  “So I’ll clean!” she announced with the relief of finally finding an outlet for all of the pent-up emotions tumbling around inside. “I may be losing my mind at the moment, but I’ll clean until this place shines and then I’ll go back to work. You’re finished messing with my emotions, David Winslow. Do you hear me, Major? You are officially done!”

  After mopping the kitchen floor, she moved into the hallway, the tails of her long silk shirt slapping against her thighs like punctuation marks to her anger.

  Intent on her task, she jumped at the sound when she heard a fist pounding on her front door. Propping the mop against the wall, Emma marched to the door, jerked it open, and almost fainted on the spot when she discovered David standing on her doorstep.

  He looked different, she realized as she braced herself with a hand against the doorframe. Dressed in black jeans, turtleneck sweater, and a leather bomber jacket that looked like the real thing, David appeared rested, healthy, and properly fed.

  As they stood there, a sudden gust of rain spattered his shoulders and hair, the latter now close-cropped and an even darker shade of mahogany than she remembered. His hazel eyes had lost their shadows of fatigue, and, if it was possible, his clean-shaven jaw appeared even sturdier than the last time she’d seen him.

  Just looking at him made her go all hot and needy inside. She resented her response to him, but she doubted she could do much about it. Her gaze narrowed as she noted the stack of wrapped packages in his arms and the half-smile on his rugged face.

  “Making a delivery?” She sounded flippant, her anger still sparking like live wires inside her despite her impulse to fling herself into his arms and hold on until the whole world disappeared.

  “Only if you’re accepting them.”

  “I don’t know that I should.”

  He angled his head to one side, his gaze speculative but his expression clearly stating that it was up to her whether he would go or stay.

  Apparently willing to wait for her decision, he stood there and watched her. He behaved as though the sky was simply weeping lightly and not in the process of unleashing a storm that would likely last through the night. He smiled suddenly, and Emma felt a flush sweep through her entire body.

  “Maybe I should go back to the car and get my umbrella,” he commented, his eyes darkly serious despite the grin lifting the corners of his lips.

  She slowly shook her head and stepped aside, watching that easy-on-the-eyes, loose-limbed walk of his as he strolled into her living room, deposited the gaily-wrapped packages onto the couch, and then shed his leather jacket.

  “I wasn’t expecting company.” She closed the door and fidgeted with the collar of her shirt while he glanced around approvingly at the contemporary décor of the cottage.

  “I was afraid to call. I figured you’d refuse to see me.”

  Her eyes widened. David Winslow was afraid?

  “Feel like giving me the nickel tour?”

  “Maybe later,” she answered.

  He wandered to the wall of windows on the far side of the room. Like the kitchen, the living room overlooked the ocean. “This was worth the airfare from Washington.” He exhaled, his broad shoulders shifting as Emma studied the strong, lean lines of his body. He glanced back at her. “Looks like it’s getting worse out there. My flight was almost diverted into Los Angeles because of the weather.”

  She slowly inched into the room. “You flew out here today?”

  He nodded.

  “How did you find me?”

  David shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. You gave me enough to go on.”

  “Why are yo
u here, David?”

  “I missed you. Thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

  Flummoxed, she stared at him. “This isn’t exactly your backyard.”

  “It will be in another month or so.”

  Emma tilted her head to one side. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll be stationed about ten minutes from here.”

  “At Miramar?”

  He smiled in reply.

  She trembled under the impact of that potent smile. “Then you’re here to apartment hunt?”

  He shook his head, his smile fading. “I’ll be stationed here for two or three years, so I’ll probably buy a house.”

  She watched him move into the center of the room and saw what appeared to be a flash of stark vulnerability in his eyes. When it disappeared, she wondered if she’d imagined it. She shifted nervously.

  She felt his gaze glide downward to her braless breasts. Emma resisted the urge to cover them with her hands when her nipples tightened and tingled. She drew in an uneven breath, and she managed to ask, “Would you like a drink?”

  David nodded once, turning back to the view through the huge windows instead of watching her flight from the room. All of his nerve endings sizzled with desire, but her reaction to his arrival saddened him.

  He felt her hesitation and uncertainty, aware that he’d been the cause. He shifted, trying with little success to ease the pressure building in his loins. He wanted her in his life and his bed with an intensity that still had the power to shock him.

  “David?”

  Although he heard Emma whisper his name a few minutes later, David allowed himself a moment to inhale and then exhale slowly. He ached for her now in the same way that he’d ached for her every day and every night for the last six weeks. Finally mastering his body, he turned, met her curious gaze, and accepted the mug of beer she held out to him.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Emma slipped away on bare feet and took a seat at the end of the couch.

  David sat at the opposite end of the long couch, the stack of packages like a barrier between them. He took a sip of beer before placing the mug on the coffee table. “How’ve you been?”

  “Lonely. Hurt. Angry.” She paused, then said, “That pretty well covers it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You were right, David.”

  Alert to the challenge in her voice, he asked, “Right about what?”

  “My feelings for you did change.”

  He nodded, but he died a little inside. “I thought they might.”

  Drawing up her long legs, Emma wrapped her arms around them and parked her chin on her knees. “Why are you really here?”

  He smiled. “You promised me a birthday bash. I thought I’d collect on your promise.”

  She glanced at the packages. “You don’t give presents on your birthday. You receive them.”

  “Old Montana tradition. I brought my own.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “I’ll have to trust you.”

  “You did once before,” he reminded her. “Perhaps you will again one day.” He selected a package and handed it to her. “This one’s for you.”

  Bemused, she straightened and accepted his offering. After unwrapping and opening the box, Emma discovered a sapphire silk teddy in the folds of the tissue paper. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, startled that he would give her such an intimate garment.

  David handed her a second package. “This one’s for you, too. Go ahead and open it.”

  She did and found an ankle-length white lace nightgown. Her hands trembled as she skimmed her fingertips over the delicate material. “This is so extravagant.”

  “One more,” he said, handing over the largest package.

  “Alright.” She gasped as she withdrew a black silk, ankle-length robe from the box. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. This is my birthday celebration. You said we’d celebrate it together, so we are.”

  “But these gifts are for a woman.”

  He shook his head. “They’re for you, Emma. Only you.”

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  He smiled so sadly, she gripped the silk robe to keep from reaching out to him.

  “When a man’s being honorable, he doesn’t always make a lot of sense … even when he’s trying to.”

  “I’m not sure what this is all leading up to, so why don’t you tell me the real reason for your visit.”

  “There’s no point. You told me your feelings have changed.”

  She nodded. Stubbornness glinted in her eyes. “They have.”

  He frowned at the expression on her face, but then he quietly asked, “How exactly have your feelings changed, Emma?”

  His rough low voice sent chills across her skin, but she consciously set aside her reaction to the sound and to his nearness. Because she knew she had nothing left to lose, she spoke the truth in a clear voice. “My feelings for you are stronger and far deeper than before.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “Say that again, babe.”

  “I love you more now than I loved you the last time I saw you.” She made sure that there was a clear warning in her voice that no one could ever persuade her otherwise. “I told you once that I would always love you, David. I meant it.”

  He got up, crossed the room, and reached for his jacket. Emma froze. For a moment she thought he intended to simply walk out of her life again.

  Plucking an item from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, David retraced his steps and paused in front of her. He extended his hand and drew her up to stand before him. “This is my present to myself, but it won’t mean much if you don’t like it.”

  She fumbled with the small velvet covered box after he dropped it into the palm of her hand. About to open it, her nerves got the best of her. “I can’t.”

  He went stone still. “You don’t want it?”

  She shook her head as she stared at the velvet container. “It’s not that. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to drop it, whatever it is.”

  David smiled. “I’m nervous too.” He accepted the box, snapped it open, and turned it so that Emma could see the three carat pear-cut diamond engagement ring lodged within. A matching wedding band with smaller pear-cut diamonds rested next to it.

  “Oh, my,” Emma whispered as she glanced from the rings to David’s face and then back at the rings. “They’re beautiful.”

  “I love you, Emma Hamilton. Will you marry me?”

  She walked straight into his arms, slipped her arms around his waist, and held on to him. She savored the feel of his muscular chest, flat belly, and powerful thighs as she molded herself to him.

  “You shouldn’t have sent me away. It was an insane thing to do. We needed each other. If you ever try to do something like that to me again, I will find a gun and use it on you.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you, babe, but I believed it was the right thing to do when I did it. You needed time alone. So did I.”

  “Six and a half weeks?” she demanded, outraged anew by the length of their separation. “It’s been awful.”

  “Pure hell,” he agreed. “But please try to understand … when my ex-wife left me, I swore I’d never let myself love anyone so much that I’d feel like dying if the relationship ended. But that’s exactly how I’ve felt since Germany. Empty and alone … dead inside.”

  “It’s been that way for me, too.”

  He ground his teeth together and shook his head, his disgust with himself evident. “I was afraid to need you too much, babe, but I did. Every day. Every night. I thought we cared about each other for the wrong reasons, and I believed that once we were free we’d stop needing each other. I was wrong. If anything, I needed and wanted you even more. You were like a beacon of hope for me in prison. You became my strength. I focused on you, and I managed to forget my anger, my hunger, and my pain. You made me laugh, you made me want to cry some of the time, and you made me ache with needs that onl
y you can satisfy.”

  “But, David … ”

  “Let me finish, because I want to put this past month and a half behind us for good. I thought I loved you, but I wasn’t completely certain. I also didn’t want to hurt you, but I was damned whatever I did. Sending you away was painful for us both, but I was convinced it was our only option. The minute I got on that plane for Washington, I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “You could have called me. We could have talked.”

  “I almost did,” he admitted. “Several times.”

  Bewildered, she asked, “What stopped you?”

  “I loved you enough to not pressure you when you were putting your life back together.”

  She remembered the emptiness and isolation of the preceding six weeks. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I didn’t think you loved me at all.”

  David cupped her face with his hands and lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her gently, almost reverently. When he lifted his head, he asked, “How could I not love you? You’re all I think about. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re my future, babe. Everything else that’s happened is in the past, and I want it to stay that way.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, nearly crushing her within his embrace as he seared the side of her neck and her face with hot kisses. “I handled the entire situation very badly, but I needed you to be sure. I meant it when I said it wasn’t easy to marry a man in military aviation. There are a lot of sacrifices involved. I’ve already had one relationship go up in smoke because of my work, and I can’t bear the thought of another failed marriage.”

  She tenderly stroked the side of his face with her fingertips. “David, I love you enough to understand your career and live with it. I’m also enough of an individual to maintain my own interests. And that includes Child Feed, because I don’t intend to abandon my work.”

  He looked down at her. “I honestly believed that you were too fragile to know your own mind or to understand your true feelings about us by the time we arrived in Germany. I guess I didn’t understand the kind of emotional commitment you were making to me when we made love. I even convinced myself that your feelings for me probably wouldn’t last once your life got back to normal. Now, I know I was wrong. I wound up hurting you when all I was trying to do was protect you. Can you ever forgive me what I’ve put us through?”

  She smiled. Forgiveness came easily because she now understood that they’d both paid a painfully high price for their time apart. He’d had the best intentions, she realized, no matter how misguided.

  “It doesn’t matter how or where or why we fell in love, David. It just matters that we love each other enough to make a lifetime commitment. I have enormous faith in us. I have since those first minutes in my cell when you cared enough to ask me if I was alright.”

  “I realize that now. Believe me, I’ve had more lonely hours for real thinking than I care to recall.” He took the engagement ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. “I need an answer, babe.”

  “Do you promise to always talk to me before you do what you think is best for me?” she asked, the teasing undertone in her voice softening the difficult question.

  He nodded, his expression serious. “Always.”

  “Do you promise to assume that I will love you regardless of what you do for a living?”

  He smiled. “I promise.”

  “Do you promise to trust me when I tell you that I love you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And do you promise to love me forever and to make beautiful babies with me?”

  He kissed her soundly and then whispered against her lips, “With pleasure. Now, say you’ll marry me.”

  She smiled. “Yes, David, I will marry you.”

  Emma welcomed his embrace and his lips. And as she savored the consuming fire of his passion, she knew with utter certainty that both his love and his desire for her would endure for a lifetime.

  The End

  The Warrior Series Continues…

  MIDNIGHT STORM (Book 2)

  “Not even the destructive force of a tornado can equal the MIDNIGHT STORM in the heart of the lovely innkeeper when a handsome Marine Corps pilot comes back into her life after barely surviving a perilous mission in the Middle East…this compelling love story from Laura Taylor shines, ending on a note of luminous joy for lucky readers to savor and cherish.” Romantic Times Book Review

  HEARTBREAKER (Book 3)

  Romantic Times Career Achievement Award – Series Romantic Adventure for Heartbreaker

  * * * * * (5 stars) HEARTBREAKER Sizzles – says mem317 / Amazon Reader Reviewer

  “I never write book reviews, but I am making an exception since I've enjoyed reading several of Laura Taylor's romantic suspense novels in recent months. Heartbreaker – like her other novels – is an intense, sensual battle of the sexes that I absolutely loved. I can't wait for Laura Taylor's next book, and I think you'll feel the same way when you read them – they're addicting!”

  MORE THAN FRIENDS (Book 4)

  "Golden Rose Award recipient and RWA RITA Award Finalist Laura Taylor’s ability to marry passion with psychological integrity makes her a fantastic storyteller and a wordsmith not to be missed. MORE THAN FRIENDS is ample proof!”

  —Helen R. Myers, USA Today-Bestseller & Award-Winning Author.