He was aware of the cameras, the lights and the blonde on the stage, but none of it mattered. Only Sadie mattered. She was his world, his future. He nodded for her to continue.
“I know you were married to a great woman and you loved her. You would have risked everything for her,” she said. “I’m not asking you to make that choice. If you think you can make room in your heart for me, I want to be with you. Wherever you need to be, I’m there. I’ll wait for you while you deploy. And I promise I’ll stand by you. I’m strong. I can take the waiting. I can make this work. I have faith in you, in myself and in us. Over time, we can make this work.”
He didn’t doubt her strength. Not anymore. She’d move mountains for the important people in her life. He knew that now. “If you give me a chance—”
“Please, let me finish,” she said. “I made a mistake. A series of them, really. I put my career first, before the people I care about. Success—I thought it was everything. And I was wrong.”
Logan shook his head and stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “Sadie, everything you do is for your family. Don’t you see that? I love that about you.”
The determination shining in her eyes faltered, revealing her uncertainty.
He nodded. “Yesterday, when I saw those pictures,” he continued, “I was running scared. Not just of what the media attention meant for my job, but of my feelings for you. In a short time, they’ve exploded. I’ve fallen for you, Sadie. I love you.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Yes. I love you, Sadie Bannerman. Not your job. Not MJ Lane. You. And I want to be with you.”
Her brow furrowed. “But what about your career? Those pictures—”
“Are of a private moment between two people who care deeply for each other. Nothing wrong with that.”
Doubt continued to cloud her face. “Your commanding officer agrees?”
“He doesn’t control every part of my life,” he said. “And at the end of the day, you’re more important. You’re my future.”
“And you’re mine.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to fight them, to stop the trembling in her limbs, but it was a losing battle. Logan’s hands on hers were the only thing holding her steady. Logan, the man who’d declared his feelings for her in front of thousands of people.
Through her tears, she looked into his eyes and saw the truth. He was here. For her. And he loved her.
“Logan, I know we’ve only known each other a few days. But in your world, a few days is sometimes all you have. I know what I feel. I know what is in my heart. I love you and I want to build a life with you. I want to be the one waiting for you when you come home. Always.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his, kissing him with all her heart. Let America watch. Let them judge. She’d found her fairy-tale ending, her happily-ever-after. Nothing else mattered.
Epilogue
IT WAS LATE. Nearly midnight. Sadie sat in the team room waiting, surrounded by wives, girlfriends, fathers, mothers and children who’d been allowed to stay up way past their bedtime for this special occasion.
Homecoming.
“Is he here yet?” a small boy, maybe four, demanded, running up to the woman seated beside Sadie at the rectangular table.
“Not yet,” his mother said with a smile. “Soon.”
The boy, who’d been fighting sleep but now seemed to have found his second, or maybe third wind, nodded. “Can we eat the cake while we wait?”
“No, honey. That’s for your father.”
A large rectangular cake frosted red, white and blue sat in the center of the table. On top it read Welcome Home.
Sadie drew her sweater tight around her, fighting off the chill. It was cold, even for December, with temperatures dipping into the twenties. Sadie had hoped the weather would be warmer in Clarksville compared to New York, but either way it didn’t matter. There was no place she’d rather be. Especially tonight.
This was her first time welcoming Logan home from a deployment. He’d been gone four months, leaving weeks after their national TV appearance. The army had welcomed him back with open arms. And there had never been so much as a whisper about a court-martial for unbecoming conduct. Apparently, a woman in love declaring she would wait for her soldier while he fought for his country generated mountains of positive publicity.
She suspected there would be a downside to the publicity, too. Logan had dropped hints in the days before he’d deployed, while they were still setting up house at the base, that he’d probably be assigned to the “log train” team. Instead of leading the charge, he’d be at the base arranging for supplies and providing support. Not as exciting, but as he pointed out, there was no small job when it came to his missions. Everything they did over there was important. He’d told her again and again, when she’d pushed him to tell his commanding officer that the bad guys probably didn’t read the tabloid reports about erotica authors or watch morning shows, that he felt lucky to be back with his team. He’d do whatever was asked of him. No questions. No complaints.
Sadie had a feeling she’d never know one way or the other if his commanding officer had kept him on the base or sent him into battle. Whatever the mission, wherever he’d gone, he wouldn’t speak of it.
The little boy’s mother leaned toward Sadie, pulling her back into the present—the team room, and the quiet family-only homecoming awaiting Logan and his team. No media or marching bands for the Special Forces soldiers.
“I read that book,” the woman said. “The one everyone is talking about.”
For once, she was not referencing an MJ Lane title. This time the book belonged to Professor Margaret Barlow.
“It’s a great account of the horse soldiers’ ride,” Sadie replied, offering her stock answer.
The woman nodded. “It was nice to read a story that made the men seem human. And I was glad she did not harp on your boyfriend’s mistake. In the end, no one died and they rescued three aid workers. One error does not change the fact that he’s a hero.”
“I agree,” Sadie said. “Though I could do without women coming up to me in the supermarket and telling me they wanted to give my boyfriend a big old hug when they read about how he was trying to juggle grief and his duty to his country.”
The woman laughed, but the sound was quickly drowned out by footsteps in the hall. The soldiers were home. Everyone in the room rose and children rushed to the door. With one hand, Sadie held up the sign she’d made, wrapping the other around the small gift she’d brought.
Men poured in, their faces lined with exhaustion and relief. They found their loved ones, gathering them close, holding on tight. The room filled with welcome homes and I love yous. The small boy demanded they cut the cake.
Sadie scanned the crowd until finally she found him bringing up the rear. Logan. Mr. Ruggedly Handsome. Her soldier. Her love.
“Sadie.” He gathered her in his arms, holding her close. She felt his chest expand as he inhaled. “You smell good. So damn good. Like home.”
She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him tight against her. After all these months, seeing him, knowing he was safe—she didn’t have the words. It was better than apple pie, better than orgasms, though she might reconsider the second point once she got him home. Which reminded her...
“I have a present for you.” She drew back, until she could see his face. “Hold out your hand.”
He did as he was told and Sadie pressed the spool of pink ribbon into his palm. “Are you ready to follow orders, soldier?”
Logan laughed, his eyes sparkling as he pulled her closer and lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her long and hard. When he finally allowed her to catch her breath, he kept his forehead pressed to hers.
“Sadie Bannerman, I’m yours to command
.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MIGHTY QUINNS: ROGAN by Kate Hoffmann.
Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.
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Prologue
ROGAN QUINN PEERED out the front window of his grandparents’ house, observing the small crowd gathered just outside the garden fence.
“What do you think they want?” he asked.
His twin brother, Ryan, shrugged. “Maybe they want a picture of us crying over Dad, so they can show everyone that we’re sad.”
“I’m not going to do that for them,” Rogan said stubbornly. “I wish they’d just go away and leave us be.” He wandered away from the window, his gaze coming to rest on the closed bedroom door. His mother hadn’t come out all morning.
She’d had good days and bad in the month since their father’s death. On the good days, she managed to appear at the dinner table, usually wrapped in her dressing gown. Food didn’t interest her, nor did conversation. She’d just sit, ignoring her four children, before shuffling back to the bedroom.
She’d become a ghost of herself, frail and silent, her vacant eyes fixed on some imaginary figure in the room.
Rogan had experienced the loss of his father and it had been devastating, but he’d survived the pain. Why had his mother become a victim? Rogan had realized then what love and loss had done to his mother, how it had turned into a poison that sapped her strength and stole her happiness.
Rogan had thought about this so many times over the past few weeks. What was it about the love that existed between his father and mother that was so special? Perhaps it was something only adults understood. Maybe it had to do with sex.
At eight years old, he wasn’t sure of all the details of what went on between a man and a woman, but he’d heard stories. The whispered speculation of his friends sprinkled with a bit of firsthand knowledge. He’d even glimpsed a few photos on the internet, though they’d only created more questions than answers.
But Rogan sensed that when he got older, he’d understand his mother’s grief. He just never wanted it to happen to him.
Rogan rapped on the bedroom door. “Mum? Can I bring you some tea?”
He waited, hoping that this time she’d reply, but there was only silence. He spun around and strode to the window again, cursing beneath his breath at the media vultures that seemed to hover over them. If they’d just go away, maybe she’d come back, maybe she’d be the mother they’d always known—the mother who laughed with them and loved them.
“I’m going out there,” Rogan muttered.
“No, don’t,” Ryan said, grabbing his arm. “Grandmum said we just have to pretend that they’re not there. She’ll be home soon. She’ll run them off.”
“I’m not going to wait for her,” Rogan said. “We can do this. Are you coming?”
There was very little that the twins didn’t do together, Rogan usually leading and Ryan backing him up. This time, Ryan thought about the request for a long moment, then nodded solemnly. “All right.”
Rogan reached for the door and pulled it open. The instant the reporters saw them, they rushed the fence, shouting out questions. Cameras flashed and Rogan held up his hand to ward off the assault. But as he watched them warily, his anger began to build.
With a silent curse, Rogan ran down the front steps and grabbed a clod of dirt from his grandmother’s flower bed. With all his strength, he heaved it at the group. “Leave us alone,” he cried. “Just go away. We don’t want to talk to you.”
The shower of dirt was enough to send them all running. Ryan joined him, heaving clumps of soil over the fence until everyone had retreated to their cars. Rogan found a small rock and hit the windscreen of the closest car. As it drove off, he picked up another and heaved it.
One by one, the reporters and photographers scurried away, and when the street in front of their grandparents’ home was finally empty, Rogan looked at his brother and smiled. “Cowards,” he muttered.
Ryan chuckled. “We really showed them, didn’t we.”
“You ain’t wrong,” Rogan replied.
When they returned to the house, Rogan was surprised to find their mother standing at the window, her fingers clutching at the curtains. She gazed at him and Ryan and gave them a weak smile. “Good work,” she murmured before moving away.
“Mum? Can I make you a cup of tea?” Rogan asked again.
She stopped and drew a deep breath, and Rogan watched her narrow shoulders rise and fall. “That would be lovely,” she said, nodding her head. “I could use a cup of tea.”
Rogan and Ryan hurried over to her, each of them taking a hand and leading her to the sofa. They sat down on either side of her and she wrapped her arms around their shoulders and pulled them close, kissing the tops of their heads.
“You’re my brave, strong boys,” she whispered. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”
“I promise, Mum,” Rogan said.
“Me, too.”
Rogan silently made another promise to himself. If this was what love did to his mother, then he wanted no part of it. It only brought despair and loneliness. No girl would ever be worth all that.
Copyright © 2014 by Peggy A. Hoffmann
ISBN-13: 9781460336762
Command Control
Copyright © 2014 by Sara Jane Stone
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