But this was the first time he’d really touched her since he’d first woken her on the roadside.
His kiss was as gentle as the night—and as welcome.
Would she be happier on the Peleliu where the injuries would be from acts of God or from well-fought battles? Or would it be better to work in some surgical center where she’d be struggling to repair the travesties of car accidents, knife fights, and gang gun battles?
That choice was certainly easy.
Would she be as happy with any man other than the one currently snugging their bodies more tightly together?
That too had an easy answer. She knew more about Arin Amin from three weeks of working side by side than she knew about men she’d dated for an entire year.
When Arin finished the kiss, which was beyond lovely, he didn’t step away. Instead he rested his forehead against hers and sighed resignedly.
“What?”
“Well, I’m not the only one who will think that you’re a true gift. My mother always wanted a doctor in the family.”
Datta giggled. She couldn’t help herself, it just slipped out. “Afraid that she’ll like me more than her son?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Do we care?”
She could feel his smile as he kissed her again.
As long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.
Be sure to keep reading to see an excerpt from the exciting Night Stalkers White House series.
Daniel’s Christmas (excerpt)
If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love this series!
Daniel’s Christmas (excerpt)
Daniel Drake Darlington III pushed back further into the armchair and hung on for dear life. Without warning the seat did its best to eject him forcibly onto the floor. Only the heavy seatbelt, that was threatening to cut him in half he’d pulled it so tight, kept him in place.
“You never were the best flier.”
Daniel glared at President Peter Matthews as Marine One jolted sharply left. They occupied the two facing armchairs in the narrow cargo bay of the VH-1N White Hawk helicopter. The small, three-person couch along the side was empty. The two Marine Corps crew chiefs and the two pilots sat in their seats at the front of the craft.
“I’m fine,” Daniel managed through gritted teeth. “I just don’t like helicopters.”
President Peter Matthews sat back casually. Apparently all the turbulence that the early winter storm could hand out had not interfered with his boss’ enjoyment of Daniel’s discomfiture.
“And why would that be?”
The President knew damn well why his Chief of Staff hated these god-forsaken machines. Even if Marine One was probably the single safest and best maintained helicopter on the planet, he hated it from the depths of his soul along with all of its brethren of the rotorcraft category.
“My very first flight. I suffered—” a jaw rattling shake, “a bad concussion. Then we crashed.”
“Yes,” the President stared contemplatively at the ceiling less than foot over their heads.
Daniel kept his head ducked down so that he didn’t bang it there as they flew through the next pocket of winter turbulence.
“That was one of Emily’s finer flights.”
And it had been. If the helicopter had been flown by anyone of lesser skill than Major Emily Beale of the Special Operations Aviation Regiment, Daniel knew he’d have been dead rather than merely bruised and battered. Thankfully the Army trained the pilots of the 160th SOAR exceptionally well, even better than the four Marines flying the President’s personal craft. And Major Beale was the best among them, except for perhaps her husband.
The tape of that flight and the much more fateful flight a bare two weeks later had become mandatory training in the Army’s Special Operations Forces helicopter regiment. To this day he knew his life would have ended if he’d been aboard for that second fiery crash. The crash that had taken the First Lady’s life a year ago.
But that didn’t make him like this machine one whit better.
“There’s home.” President Matthews nodded out the window just like any tourist. Any tourist who was allowed to fly over the intensely restricted airspace surrounding the White House.
Daniel managed to look toward the window as the helicopter banked sharply to the left. Please, just let them land safely and get out of this storm. The White House did look terribly cheery. November 30th, she wasn’t sporting her Christmas décor yet, but she was a majestic building, brilliantly lit, perched in the middle of the most heavily guarded park on the planet. Another jolt and he squeezed his eyes shut.
He did manage to force his eyes open as they settled flawlessly onto the lawn with barely the slightest rocking on the shock absorbers.
In moments the door slid open and a pair of Marines stood at sharp attention in their dress uniforms as if the last day of November were a sunny summer day, and not blowing freezing rain at eleven o’clock at night.
Daniel stumbled out and managed to resist the urge to kneel and kiss the ground. For one thing, it would stain the knees of his suit. For another, the President would laugh at him. Okay, he’d laugh even more than he already was.
Both feet on the ground, Daniel found himself. Managed to pull on his Chief-of-Staff cloak so to speak. He grabbed his briefcase and kept his place beside the President as they headed toward the South Entrance. They each carried umbrellas of only marginal usefulness that the Marines had thoughtfully provided. Now that they were on the ground, Daniel didn’t mind the cold rain in his face. It meant he was alive.
“I’d suggest turning in right away, sir. We have an early start tomorrow.”
The President clapped him on the shoulder, “Yes, Mom.”
“Your mother is over in Georgetown.”
“Well, I’m not going to call you ‘dear’ so don’t get your hopes up there.”
Daniel had come to really like the President. Even at the end of a brutally long day, including a flight to Kansas City, then Chicago, and back, he remained upbeat with that indefatigable energy of his. He was easy to like. There’d now be no oil workers’ strike in Kansas City and his Chicago dinner speech had benefited the new governor immensely.
“You go to bed too, Daniel.”
“Just going to drop off this paperwork,” he held up his briefcase.
The President headed for the Grand Staircase and Daniel turned down the white marble hall and headed over to the West Wing.
Somewhere behind them in the dark, the helicopter roared back to life and lifted into the night.
The phone hammered him awake. Daniel came to in his office chair with the phone already to his ear.
Someone was speaking rapidly. He caught perhaps one word in three. “CIA. Immediate briefing. North Korea.”
He must have made some intelligible reply as moments later he was listening to a dial tone.
Daniel rubbed at his eyes, but the vista didn’t change. Large cherry wood desk. Mounds of work in neatly stacked folders that he’d sat down to tackle after the long flight. His briefcase still unopened on the floor beside him. Definitely the Chief of Staff’s office. His office. Nightmare or reality? Both. Definitely.
Phone. He’d been on the phone.
The words came back and, now fully awake, Daniel started swearing even as he grabbed the handset and began dialing.
Maybe he could blame all this on Emily Beale. In the three short weeks she’d been at the White House, Daniel had risen from being the First Lady’s secretary to the White House Chief of Staff and it was partly Emily’s fault. As if his life had been battered by a tornado. Still felt that way a year later.
Okay, call it mostly her fault.
As he listened to the phone ringing in his ear, it felt better to have someone to blame. He rubbed at his eyes. A year later and he still didn’t know whether to curse Major Beale or thank her.
Maybe he could make it all her fault.
“Yagumph.”
“Good mor
ning, Mr. President.”
“Is it morning?” The deep voice would have been incomprehensibly groggy without the familiarity of long practice.
Daniel checked his watch, barely morning. “Yes, sir!” he offered his most chipper voice.
“Crap! What? All of 12:03?”
“12:10, sir.” They’d been on the ground just over an hour.
“Double crap!” The President was slowly gaining in clarity, maybe one in ten linguists would be able to understand him now.
“Seven more minutes of sleep than you guessed, sir.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Next time Major Beale comes to town, I’m sending you up on one of her training rides.”
“Sounds like fun, sir.” If he had a death wish. “Crashing in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is definitely an experience I can’t wait to relive.” The Major was also the childhood friend of the President, so he had to walk with a little care, but not much. The two of them were that close.
“Time to get up, sir, the CIA is coming calling. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” A low groan sounded over the phone. “Make that fifteen.” The handset rattled loudly as he missed the cradle. Daniel got the phone clear of his ear before the President’s handset dropped on the floor.
Keep reading at fine retailers everywhere!
Daniel’s Christmas
About the Author
USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. “Matt” Buchman started writing on a flight south from Japan to ride his bicycle across the Australian Outback. Just part of a solo around-the-world trip that ultimately launched his writing career.
From the very beginning, his powerful female heroines insisted on putting character first, then a great adventure. He’s since written over 60 action-adventure thrillers and military romantic suspense novels. And just for the fun of it: 100 short stories, and a fast-growing pile of read-by-author audiobooks.
Booklist says: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” His fans say: “I want more now…of everything.” That his characters are even more insistent than his fans is a hoot.
As a 30-year project manager with a geophysics degree who has designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, and solo-sailed a 50’ ketch, he is awed by what is possible. More at: www.mlbuchman.com.
Also by M. L. Buchman
* also in audio
Thrillers
Dead Chef
One Chef!
Two Chef!
Miranda Chase NTSB
Drone*
Thunderbolt*
Condor*
Ghostrider*
Romantic Suspense
Delta Force
Target Engaged*
Heart Strike*
Wild Justice*
Midnight Trust*
Firehawks
Main Flight
Pure Heat
Full Blaze
Hot Point*
Flash of Fire*
Wild Fire
Smokejumpers
Wildfire at Dawn
Wildfire at Larch Creek
Wildfire on the Skagit
The Night Stalkers
Main Flight
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Wait Until Dark
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Bring On the Dusk
By Break of Day
and the Navy
Christmas at Steel Beach
Christmas at Peleliu Cove
White House Holiday
Daniel’s Christmas*
Frank’s Independence Day*
Peter’s Christmas*
Zachary’s Christmas*
Roy’s Independence Day*
Damien’s Christmas*
5E
Target of the Heart
Target Lock on Love
Target of Mine
Target of One’s Own
Shadowforce: Psi
At the Slightest Sound*
At the Quietest Word*
At the Merest Glance*
At the Clearest Sensation*
White House Protection Force
Off the Leash*
On Your Mark*
In the Weeds*
Contemporary Romance
Eagle Cove
Return to Eagle Cove
Recipe for Eagle Cove
Longing for Eagle Cove
Keepsake for Eagle Cove
Henderson’s Ranch
Nathan’s Big Sky*
Big Sky, Loyal Heart*
Love Abroad B&B
Heart of the Cotswolds: England
Path of Love: Cinque Terre, Italy
Where Dreams
Where Dreams are Born
Where Dreams Reside
Where Dreams Are of Christmas*
Where Dreams Unfold
Where Dreams Are Written
Science Fiction / Fantasy
Deities Anonymous
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101
SF/F Titles
The Nara Reaction
Monk’s Maze
The Me and Elsie Chronicles
Non-Fiction
Strategies for Success
Managing Your Inner Artist / Writer
Estate Planning for Authors*
Character Voice
* * *
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Copyright 2020 Matthew Lieber Buchman
Published by Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.
Receive a free book and discover more by this author at: www.mlbuchman.com
Cover images:
The amphibious assault ship USS Peleliu (LHA-5) underway toward Phuket, Thailand © US Navy
US Army UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter © Michael Kaplan | Wikimedia
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Storm's Gift Page 3
