Always a Warrior

by Patricia Bruening

  "Make sure it's the right choice,” he finished seriously, “for both of you."

  * * * *

  Unable to sleep, Laurie Crawford idly flipped through television channels. But nothing caught her attention enough to actually watch. Gradually, over the last six months, her life had settled back into normal routine. In a little over a month, the school year would end and summer routine would start. Except in her decreasingly frequent nightmares, Laurie had almost managed to forget the terrorists. She no longer woke screaming in the dark but some times tossed and turned all night.

  Forgetting Damien, McAllister had proven much more difficult. At unguarded moments, she thought about him, wondered where he was, what he was doing—if he still lived. She found herself watching the news much more closely, wondering which of a dozen hotspots around the world Damien risked his life in. Passionate memories and erotic images invaded her sleep, often waking her with a burning need for him.

  "Shit,” she groaned. Even after six long, lonely months she could not get him out of her mind—certainly not out of her heart. During daylight hours, she forced herself to shove his memory aside and concentrate on work. But in the dark of night, she cursed herself and him for his constant intrusions into her dreams. It was only memory, not reality.

  The sharp peal of the doorbell jerked her out of her thoughts. Her heart lurched into a faster beat. Her hands clenched into fists. She shot a quick glance at the clock. Ten thirty at night was far too late for visitors. Terrorists or criminals, she wondered? Panic surged without warning. Her head snapped around and she stared at the front door.

  "Get a grip,” she muttered breathlessly. Terrorists and criminals did not ring doorbells.

  She walked slowly to the door, which had no window or peephole. Fear was an icy trickle down her spine. She wasn't quite as relaxed from her violent experience as she believed.

  "Stop being an idiot,” she ordered herself and reached for the doorknob.

  The doorbell assaulted her ears again and she flinched hard. She took a deep breath, twisted the knob, and pulled the door open. Her mind simply shut down as she gaped in shock at Damien. He stood on her doorstep wearing jeans, black T-shirt, leather jacket, and sneakers. He still wore the Ruger .45 on his hip. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked.

  Tall, dark, and dangerous—the phrase flashed through her mind. Slightly long black hair caught in the light breeze. Amusement sparkled in his dark eyes. She blinked then closed her eyes on a long, slow breath that did nothing to calm her nerves. When she looked again, he was still there.

  "May I come in?"

  His deep slow baritone was a welcome caress to her ears. She blinked again. She had not dreamed him up. Her heart beat like a trip hammer. Blood roared in her ears. Trembling, she stepped back and opened the door wider.

  He stepped inside and dropped his bag on the floor. Peering intently at her, he kicked the door shut behind him. “Are you all right?"

  She nodded shakily and found her wayward voice. “Surprised to see you."

  He grinned, fast and lethal, and her heart lurched. “Shocked is more like it."

  "What are you doing here?” She stared at him, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her as she unsteadily crossed the room to the nearest chair. She fell rather than sat in it and struggled to bring her ragged breathing under control. She could not drag her eyes from him. He dropped to his knees in front of her. The blood rushed from her head. The room spun for a minute. She flopped back and let the chair support her.

  "I'm sorry, Laurie. I didn't mean to scare you.” Concern darkened his eyes as he looked her over again. “Or upset you."

  "You didn't,” she said breathlessly. “Just shocked the hell out of me. I did not expect to ever see you again."

  She tried but failed to keep the hurt and misery of the last six months out of her voice. But her heart swelled at actually seeing him again. His dark, penetrating stare caught and held hers for endless seconds. She sucked in a deep breath and struggled not to drown in the deep brown pools of his eyes.

  "What are you doing here?” she reiterated in a low whisper.

  "An experiment,” he murmured, staring intently at her as he lifted a hand to her face.

  His fingers trembled just slightly on her skin as he traced to curve of her jaw. Sharp tremors of desire shot into her. She clenched her hand tight together to keep from touching him. She blinked as his words penetrated the sensual fog in her head.

  "Huh?"

  "I want to see if I can be a civilian,” he clarified. “My second enlistment is up in thirty days.” He shrugged but his gaze slid from hers. “Normally, I would have re-enlisted without a second thought."

  Her mind cleared and she looked at him in consternation. That didn't sound like Damien. She could not imagine him as anything but a Navy SEAL.

  "Why didn't you?"

  On a slow deep breath, he took her hands in his and peered directly into her eyes. The glimmer of uncertainty quickly vanished. Her own concern must have shown. Determination radiated from him but his gaze remained steady.

  "For the last six months I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he admitted with quiet intensity, his eyes dark but steady. “After a mission, sometimes in the middle of one, I thought about you. I wanted you, dreamed of you—and Stacy. I started to want things I gave up as impossible long ago."

  He paused for so long Laurie began to wonder if he intended to finish. The faint glimmer of uncertainty flickered in his eyes again. His hands tightened around hers as though he had to make himself finish.

  His voice dropped to a low, husky whisper. “I came back to find out of you meant it when you said you love me."

  Her heart stopped for a second then pounded erratically against her ribs. Hope welled in her heart but was immediately tempered by caution. Doubt reared its ugly head. He did not want her love, just her body. What did he want now? She tried to pull her hands from his, but he tightened his grip and dragged her closer.

  "Did you mean it?” he persisted, a harsh gleam in his eyes.

  She gnawed on her lower lip, showing confusion. But she would give him honesty, at least.

  "At the time, yes,” she admitted raggedly.

  His gaze sharpened. He tensed and shifted closer, his mouth only a breath from hers. Only their hands touched.

  "And now?” he demanded quietly.

  Need turned his eyes even darker. She swallowed hard and eyed him warily as she replied softly, “I don't know."

  Her gaze dropped to his chest and she stared at him until her vision blurred with helpless tears. She wanted desperately to throw her arms around him and pledge her love forever. But six months was a long time to hurt, a long time to want someone who wasn't there, someone who was never coming home.

  Keeping her hands in one of his, he gripped her chin. “Look at me,” he said softly. “Please."

  His face was blurry when she met his gaze. She blinked but the tears only fell faster. His thumb swept over her trembling lips. Desire jolted her and her heart clenched in longing.

  When he spoke, his voice was low and full of regret. “Do you want me to leave?"

  "No.” The word was soft, barely audible. She bit her lip again to stop the persistent trembling.

  "Don't do that,” he murmured, sweeping his thumb over her lips again. Framing her face in both hands, he used his thumbs to wipe the tears until her vision cleared.

  Relief mingled with uncertainty in his eyes. He leaned closer, pressed his lips gently to hers. Pleasure moved slowly from that point of contact into her whole system. Her lips parted in surprise and his tongue touched hers. Her heartbeat quickened. Her pulse scrambled. He lifted his lips from hers. The fierce gleam in his eyes held her.

  "Please,” he said softly. “Give me another chance."

  "I...."

  "I need you,” he interrupted quietly. “Let me try."

  Stunned, bewildered, she only stared at
him until he tugged her gently into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. His heat suffused her. His heart thudded against hers.

  "I missed you, so much,” he muttered darkly into her hair, his voice thick with his familiar passion.

  She tilted her head until her eyes met his hungry gaze. Desire, long denied, shot through her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, applying just enough pressure to show him what she wanted. His mouth covered hers, seeking and demanding, then devouring. This she could give him, freely and willingly, without strings. The rest would take time. Desire exploded into a raging firestorm enveloping them both.

  Chapter Ten

  Just three weeks after Damien's heart-stopping reappearance in her life, Laurie still had not quite grown used to his presence in her house and in her bed. As she kicked the car door closed, she looked at the front door of her house and smiled. Her heart soared at the simple knowledge that he was there, waiting for her. Carrying four plastic bags of groceries, she entered the house, kicked that door shut behind her, and hauled the groceries into the kitchen.

  Damien sat at the table scanning the classified ads of several newspapers. As she watched, his finger slowly slid down the employment column of the newspaper. An erotic memory of his fingers sliding over her skin just as slowly put a flutter in her stomach. The finger stopped in the middle of the printed column. She lifted her gazes to his face, caught his welcoming smile, and her heart lurched. The concentrated look in his eyes softened and those dark eyes brightened.

  "Any more bags out there?” He pushed the chair back and stood up.

  She shook her head. “This is it. Where's Stacy?"

  An indulgent grin curved his lips. “In her room, drawing pictures."

  Laurie shot an amused glance at the refrigerator door, which was covered with her daughter's drawings. The pictures, done in crayon or colored pencil or marker, varied but the basic theme was the same in each one. Laurie, Stacy, and Damien held hands in various childish scenes. Laurie gave a mock groan.

  "Guess I'll have to start covering the walls.” She smiled at her lover. “How many do you have in your wallet now?"

  "Three.” His hearty laughter filled the kitchen and her heart. “You?"

  "Two in my wallet and two taped to the bulletin board in my office."

  Chuckling, Laurie put the groceries away as Damien returned to the table and his newspapers. She watched him curiously out the corner of her eye as she rummaged around in the freezer. Was he serious about leaving the Navy? She popped London broil into the microwave to defrost. Biting her lower lip, she touched the defrost button then programmed the weight of the beef and hit the start button. Finally she leaned against the edge of the sink, smoking a cigarette, and looked at Damien again. Why on earth would he give up a career that suited him so well?

  "What are you doing?” she finally asked, as much from concern as curiosity.

  "Scoping out the job market,” he replied without looking up. With a deft flick of those amazing hands, he switched to the next newspaper.

  "Why?” She genuinely wanted and needed to know if Damien planned to change his entire life and why he would do such a thing.

  "If I don't re-enlist, I'll need a job.” He flashed an engaging grin. “You know—one of those nine-to-five weekday things most civilians have."

  Laurie chuckled. “Don't know. Never had a nine-to-five job myself."

  "I guess writers don't operate on a schedule,” he commented, half serious, his dark eyes intense. “You go with the flow of inspiration."

  "Yes, that's true. But I wasn't always a writer, Damien.” With a burst of insight, she stared at him. They knew very little of each other's pasts. “It took a long time to get a book published. To support us, I worked all kinds of jobs—primarily cleaning motel rooms during the day and waiting tables on night shifts.

  "Really.” Damien abandoned his newspapers and focused on her. Curiosity sparked in his eyes. “Did you go to college?"

  "I didn't finish,” she admitted but could not keep the twinge of regret out of her voice. “I couldn't go to school, work full time, and still spend time with Stacy. So I had to quit. I had to support us and pay a baby-sitter. There wasn't time for school, which is immaterial because there was no money for school, either."

  "What about your mother? She appears to have plenty of money."

  "She does.” Laurie shrugged in an attempt to ignore the lingering pain and disappointment. “She told me to deal with my own mistake."

  Her mother's lack of compassion and support had been a bitter pill to swallow but she had choked it down and did what she needed to survive. Laurie wished she could banish the bitterness that surface when she thought of her mother.

  "Stacy is only five. You should have finished by then,” Damien pointed out quizzically.

  "I got a late start. She refused to pay for it. She told me I had to stand on my own two feet and pay for what I wanted like everyone else."

  Obviously stunned, Damien only looked at her.

  Laurie expelled a harsh breath. “Maybe my father's desertion hurt her. Maybe she never wanted me either. I don't know. Whatever the problem was, she took it out on me. She always managed to make me feel worthless. She might have paid for college if I'd done what she wanted.” Her voice trailed into silence as she glanced at the ceiling.

  "What was that?” Damien prompted.

  "Go to college and find some idiot to marry.” Laurie scowled at the memory of that fierce argument. “I didn't want to get married. I wanted to write. She threw a fit and cut me off financially."

  Damien shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. “I'm sorry it was so hard on you."

  "Don't be,” she countered, smiling as she looked back at him. “I got what I wanted. I'm published and successful. And I have Stacy. I can stand on my own two feet."

  "Miss Independence,” Damien teased lightly.

  Laurie joined him at the table and glanced at the newspapers. “What kind of job are you looking for?"

  Damien looked at the papers again then back at her. “Computers. I'm a whiz, or so I've been told."

  "Oh,” she said, surprised.

  He gave her another teasing grin. “SEALs have multiple talents. We don't just shoot people."

  He folded the papers and stacked them neatly. “Getting a job shouldn't be a problem. Mind if I use your computer? Do you have Internet?"

  "Help yourself. Dinner will be an hour or so.” She waved him out of the kitchen.

  Laurie frowned thoughtfully as he left the kitchen with his pile of newspapers. She pondered the situation as she prepared the beef using her own recipe. The idea that Damien was seriously considering leaving the Navy disturbed her. Did he think that was what she wanted or needed?

  She cut slits in the meat then stuffed sliced mushrooms and chopped onions inside. She put carrots, potatoes, whole mushrooms, and cocktail onions in the baking pan with the meat then poured a whole bottle of teriyaki marinade over everything. After covering the pan with foil, she put it in the oven to cook for an hour.

  After checking on Stacy, who was playing happily in her room, she paused in the doorway of her office. Damien was concentrating intently on the computer screen. Frowning again, she watched him scribble notes on a yellow legal pad then click the mouse and focus again on the screen. Disconcerted, she left him to his cyber search.

  * * * *

  "What kind of beef was that?” Damien asked after eating two full plates of food. “It was great."

  "London broil,” she replied, pleased with his obvious appreciation. “Into the tub, Stacy."

  "Really?” he countered, surprised. “London broil is usually tough, dry, or both."

  Laurie grinned as she started clearing the table. “Not with my recipe."

  Cleaning the kitchen, she let the silence linger. She felt his attention on her as his gaze tracked her. Whenever she glanced at him, he was relaxed, leaning back in the chair as he sipped coffee. She sighed as she slid plates into the dishwasher. Thre
e weeks. Three wonderful weeks. Only a few days remained before she had to let him go—again. Just knowing he would leave made her miss him already. She would worry about him every second until he came back—if he came back. Despite his job research, she could not imagine Damien as anything but a Navy SEAL.

  "Something on your mind?” Damien's quiet voice cut into her thoughts.

  She turned on the dishwasher and slowly turned to face him. “I miss you already,” she said wistfully. “We only have a few more days."

  He looked at her, his dark gaze boring into her for so long she had to struggle against the irrational urge to hide. He pushed the chair back, turned it slightly, and planted both feet firmly on the floor. But he didn't rise from the chair. He merely kept his impenetrable gaze locked with hers.

  "Come here,” he ordered quietly as he held a hand out to her in invitation, as he had that last night at his cabin.

  Anticipation warred with uncertainty in a sharp sizzling tingle down her spine. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. Trembling, she crossed the kitchen and put her hand in his. He twined his fingers with hers and tugged her gently into his lap. His arms slid around her. His heart beat steadily in her ear as she snuggled into his embrace. I belong here, she thought, contented, and then frowned. Did Damien belong with her, in her world?

  "You'll only miss me for a few days,” he murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm not re-enlisting."

  Her heart nearly stopped. She sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back abruptly, her hands gripping his shoulders. He tightened his arms but she resisted, her fingers digging into hard muscle. She blinked and looked at him in consternation.

  "But, why not?” she demanded, finally voicing the question that had plagued her for three weeks. Her tone carried a strange mix of alarm and disbelief. “The Navy, the SEALs, I thought that was your life."

  He can't be serious, she thought in alarm. Why such a drastic change?

  His expression turned serious, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I want more. I want a family, Laurie—this family—you and Stacy."