Nick closed his eyes and felt a wave of fresh guilt that he hadn’t realized how vulnerable she’d been. He’d known she was grieving, of course. But his own immaturity and, hell, plain cluelessness had blinded him to the fact that he’d pulled another rug out from under her and then basically told her to suck it up and deal with it.
He found himself uttering something he’d never admitted out loud. “It was my fault, too. I should have made you understand how important it was to me so we could make a plan together.”
She reached for the glass and took two deep swallows. “No, I should have listened to you when you tried to talk to me about why you wanted to join up. I should have tried to figure out a way for it to work.” She shook her head. “I just couldn’t get it out of my head that you would die. That you would go away and never come back. So many people we knew had died, and I couldn’t stand the idea of being left behind.”
His hand reached out to cover hers. “So you pushed me away and thought you’d be safe with Steven.” He’d never forget the pain of seeing her with someone else, but with nearly a decade of hindsight and maturity on both their parts, it was easier now for him to understand why she’d acted the way she did.
She clutched his hand and nodded miserably. “On paper, he was everything I thought I needed. He wanted everything I thought I wanted. Then we saw you in that bar, and I knew I didn’t want any kind of life without you in it.” She released a wobbly sigh.
But by then it was too late, and when she’d reached out to him, Nick, heartbroken and bitter, had cut off communications. Given her a taste of her own medicine. “God, we both really screwed up, didn’t we?”
He reached out, stroked his hand over the thick silk of her hair, traced his fingers over the line of her cheek bone. The sadness in her eyes faded, replaced by something else, memories of how they used to touch each other, how he’d spent years memorizing every inch of her until he knew exactly how and where to touch and taste.
He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly she was in his lap, arms wrapped around his bare shoulders as his mouth came down over hers. At the first taste, all the anger, hurt, and grief fell away. Nothing mattered but the taste of her on his tongue, her hands hot against his bare skin, her soft curves as she arched her body closer to his.
He scooped her up into his arms, carried her into the house, and laid her across the bed where they’d given each other their virginity so many years ago. Then he’d been nervous, so eager to finally have her but terrified of hurting her. After it was over they’d laid in the dark and whispered how much they loved each other.
Tonight there was nothing tentative in the way he took her. He stripped off her clothes and his, used his hands and mouth to find all the remembered secret spots guaranteed to drive her wild. By the time he slid inside her she was gasping with need, her hand clutching at his shoulders as she cried his name.
God, it was all so good, so much better than his memories. So good it made his heart feel like it was going to explode in his chest.
He knew there was no going back, there would be no whispered words of love tonight. But as he felt her body clutch around him, triggering his own pleasure, he finally felt like he was home.
Chapter Three
“Crap!” The soft curse and the sound of a shoe thumping to the floor pulled Nick from sleep. His years as a SEAL had conditioned him to go from dead asleep to fully alert in a split second, and he quickly became aware of several things. One, it was early, the sun not yet fully up outside. A glance at his watch confirmed it was just after six.
Two, he was naked under the sheets. Because he’d spent several hours reacquainting himself with every inch of Sarah Decker’s body. And found it as delectable as it had been the last time he’d gotten his hands on it.
And three, Sarah herself was not naked, he noted with irritation. Not only was she not naked, she was tiptoeing around the room like she didn’t want to wake him so she could make a clean getaway.
The thought that she could just take off without a word hit him like a fist in the gut. Not that he had any expectation of them starting up where they’d left off. Clearly they still had feelings for each other—strong ones—but too much time had passed, their lives were too different. And despite what she’d said, he didn’t expect she was any more ready to deal with his reality today than she’d been ten years ago.
He watched her pad silently from the room, forcing himself not to call out to her. He braced himself for the sound of the front door opening and closing, signaling her departure from his life for the last time. It was good, he told himself. They finally had closure, and now he could finally let go and remember his first love without bitterness.
If that’s true, why do you feel like someone drove a truck over your chest?
He’d barely completed the thought before he heard her footsteps, not headed for the door, but back down to his room. He kept his breathing steady, his eyes narrowed into slits as she approached his side of the bed. The aroma of coffee hit his nostrils and he heard a soft thunk as she sat a ceramic mug on the bedside table.
He felt her weight settle on the bed. Soft strands of hair tickled his chest as she bent her head and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that sizzled all the way down to his toes.
“Good morning,” she whispered as he opened his eyes.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He slid his hand up to cup the back of her head and pulled her mouth back to his. His other hand slid up the outside of her thigh to rest against the soft curve of her backside. “How about you get back in here and keep me company?”
She rested her forehead against his. “I so wish I could.” She sat up and reached for the mug on the side table. “But I have a flight to catch and I’m already running late.”
He pushed himself up against the pillows. Right. It was August, and Sarah’s family always spent the summers jetting all over the place. “Where to? Jackson Hole? Martha’s Vineyard?”
She laughed softly. The sound curled around him but couldn’t banish the cold lump in his stomach at the thought of her leaving. “Not exactly. Try Bucharest.” She stood from the bed and tugged at his hand. “Come on, walk me to the door like a gentleman.”
Stunned, Nick let himself be pulled from the bed, forgetting he was naked until he caught Sarah staring at him with a frankly covetous look on her face. “God, I wish I could stay. Here, put these on,” she grabbed his shorts from the floor and tossed them to him, “or I’ll never get out of here.”
“What the hell are you going to Bucharest for?” he said as he trailed her down the hall to the front door.
“Let’s just say you weren’t the only one who realized you needed to take a different path.”
As Nick tried to figure out what that meant, she picked up her purse off the chair by the front door and reached in to pull out a flat silver case. She popped it open and extracted a white card.
She tucked it into his hand and looped her arms around his neck. “For the next six months or so, email is going to be the easiest way to get in touch with me. It’s on that card, and I really hope you use it.”
He looked down into her eyes, saw them fill with tears and felt an answering sting in his own as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I will, I promise.” He didn’t know where this was going, if it could go anywhere, but after losing ten years to their immaturity and stubbornness, he couldn’t let this be the last contact he had with her.
He bent his head, drinking in the taste of her, his heart aching as he wondered when he would get the chance again.
She cradled his face, the desperation in her kiss matching his own. “I hate the reason for it, but I’m so glad I got to see you, Nick. No matter what happens, last night meant everything to me.”
His throat was so tight he could barely choke out, “Me, too.”
One last kiss, a whispered goodbye, and she was gone.
He stared at the door for several long moments. Even as the ache of her absence settled into i
n his bones, he felt something else, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, especially when he thought of Sarah.
Something warm and bright and good. Hope.
Three months later
Nick watched out the window of the cab as the beautiful historic buildings of downtown Bucharest gave way to communist era developments. The squat, grey skyline wasn’t improved by November’s cold grey weather. But nothing—not the dreary setting or crappy weather—could dampen Nick’s spirits as he paid the driver who’d taken him from the airport to the group home where Sarah was helping women and girls rescued from sex traffickers get back on their feet through education and work experience.
He spotted her easily, her tall, slender frame and blond hair pulling his gaze like a beacon. Her hair was scraped back into a pony tail, she wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, and she was wearing a bulky sweater and baggy pants. She was still so beautiful it hurt to look at her.
He took a moment to watch her, unnoticed, as she spoke to the man who approached her. There was a quiet confidence about her that he couldn’t help but admire.
This would have been the last place he would have guessed Sarah would have found her calling.
He’d been shocked, when he’d looked at her business card that morning after his mother’s funeral, to realize Sarah worked for a global nonprofit that helped rescue girls and women sold into the sex trade.
Over the last few months he’d learned through her emails that after they’d split, she’d landed a job in Manhattan thanks to her father’s connections. I thought I had everything I wanted, she’d written, but I woke up one day and realized my life had become so empty. I didn’t care about anything, and I’d become another useless cog. Our family has all this money and all this influence, and we weren’t doing anything meaningful with it.
When a former Harvard classmate involved in the organization had hit her up for the annual fundraising campaign, Sarah had done more than open her wallet. Not only had she made a substantial donation, she’d quit her job in Manhattan and signed on as a corporate liaison, and used her family’s influence to land corporate donations of cash, medical supplies, building materials, and international business contacts to help working-age victims get stable, well-paying jobs.
It took me awhile, but I finally got what you meant about being part of something bigger than ourselves.
Even though he hadn’t even been able to hear her voice, Nick felt closer to Sarah after these last three months than he ever had before.
Never loved her more than he did right now.
He damn well hoped she felt the same. He called her name, and took it as a good sign that she shrieked in delight and shoved the clipboard she was holding into the hands of the woman next to her. Ignoring the questioning gazes of her coworkers, she ran across the room at a full sprint and flung herself at him so fast he barely had time to drop his duffel and catch her.
“Oh, my God, what are you doing here?” she asked, her face muffled against his neck.
Any doubts he’d had about surprising her fled as her arms locked around him in a vice grip as though she was afraid he was going to disappear any second.
“I had a couple weeks of leave after our last op, and I heard Bucharest is beautiful this time of year,” he managed to get out between kisses.
“Right, especially in November, when it’s cold and gray and the sun never shines. Seriously, I can’t believe you came here, of all places to spend your vacation.”
He pulled back, cupped her cheek, loving the lovestruck grin on her face. He knew it mirrored his own. “Why would I want to spend my time off with anyone but the woman I love?”
Her breath caught, and her blue eyes widened along with her smile. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do. I love you, Sarah.”
She buried her head against his chest and Nick waited an agonized eternity for her to whisper, “I love you too. It’s always been you.”
“It’s always been us,” he corrected, his arms tightening around her. It had taken ten years of heartbreak and shared tragedies to bring her back to his side, and no way was he ever letting her go.
BABY I’M BACK
Stephanie Bond
Chapter One
Beneath his U.S. Navy SEALs T-shirt, Seaman Barry Ballantine’s heart thudded against his breastbone. He wondered if he would recognize anything about his mountain hometown of Sweetness, Georgia. The last time he’d seen it, the entire town had been reduced to matchsticks. He’d been fifteen when the F-5 tornado had landed like a giant mixer in the bowl created by the surrounding mountain range, ravaging the small downtown and outlying homes. No human lives had been lost—the disaster had been dubbed The Sweetness Miracle—but the devastation had been the death knell for the small isolated community.
When the tornado descended, he’d been inside Moon’s Grocery, grabbing a soda and making plans with friends to meet later at the Timber Creek swimming hole. The power had gone out—not uncommon when a summer thunderstorm blew through. But when the wail of an unfamiliar siren had sounded, Mr. Moon had herded everyone into the basement. Twelve years had passed, but Barry still remembered the roar of the monster twister rolling over them like a hundred freight trains. The relief of surviving the storm had given way to the terror of being trapped—more than fifty people had been buried alive in that basement, with no idea if anyone had even survived to rescue them.
And then someone had broken through—Emory Maxwell, the boyfriend of Shelby Moon, who was among those trapped in the basement, and his buddy Porter Armstrong, who were both in Sweetness on leave from the Army. Emory was the person who’d sounded the alarm from the water tower and was credited with saving the townspeople. Barry had been full of himself at that age and few things had impressed him . . . but when he’d been pulled out of that dark, dusty hole by the hands of two uniformed soldiers, he’d been awestruck by their bravery. On the spot he had silently committed to joining the Armed Forces when he was old enough.
Barry glanced to the wooden box sitting in the passenger seat and wished he could recapture the enthusiasm of that moment . . . perhaps it was that hope pulling him back to the only home he’d ever known. He passed a new sign announcing Sweetness 3 Miles, and geared down his Jeep for the steep, steady climb that would eventually take him into what used to be the center of town.
In the aftermath of the tornado he’d thought the place had resembled a war zone. He’d been right—since joining the SEALs, he’d seen plenty of war zones firsthand, except unlike The Sweetness Miracle, they’d all come with casualties. He wasn’t naïve, he’d known what he was signing up for, that loss would be part of the job. But knowing it intellectually was one thing, and washing a comrade’s blood out of your clothes was something else entirely.
A pain shot through his left foot. He inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on the steering wheel until it subsided.
The landscape on either side of the newly paved road began to look familiar. It had rained earlier, turning up the brightness on the remaining fall foliage, brilliant orange and yellow and bronze. Clear puddles on the shoulders reflected a crisp October sky. His open Jeep allowed the sounds and scents of autumn to filter in—buzzing insects and pungent fallen leaves. Ahead on the left was a new metal bridge that spanned Timber Creek. At its base was a sign pointing the way to a recycling plant. According to the town’s website, the Armstrong brothers, all of whom had grown up in Sweetness and served in different branches of the military, were rebuilding the town on green industries.
He wondered if any other former residents had moved back to Sweetness, if he would know anyone, or if anyone would know him. His friends from high school had scattered after the twister, some of them landing in Atlanta, like his family, but not in the same neighborhoods or the same schools. Everyone had started over somewhere else, but he’d never felt like he belonged anywhere but Sweetness.
Farther ahead on the left was the old Evermore covered bridge—no, the original had blown away. Thi
s had to be a replica, but the sight of a familiar landmark tucked into the picturesque curve lifted his spirits.
But when he rounded the curve and looked up, a bona fide grin spread over his face. The white water tower, the only structure spared by the twister, still stood on the top of a ridge heralding “Welcome to Sweetness” in black letters. Its surface was marred with bits of graffiti—apparently climbing the tower and proclaiming love with a spray can was still a popular activity. He’d always thought he’d do the same someday, but hadn’t yet been inspired before the tornado had struck and his family had left town.
Oh, there’d been plenty of pretty girls around when he’d lived in Sweetness, and because he was a jock, they’d seemed eager enough to spend time with him, but there had never been anyone particularly special then . . . or since. He’d joined the Navy after high school and the transient lifestyle had been exciting, but solitary. Becoming a SEAL had been a professional and personal pinnacle, but the deployment and covert missions didn’t lend themselves to a long-term relationship. He’d never let his mind go there.
And now—
He saw a flash of color out of the corner of his right eye, on the shoulder of the road. Too late, he realized it was a runner—a female runner—just as he plowed through a puddle of water, drenching her head to toe.
Chapter Two
In the side mirror of the Jeep, Barry saw the runner stop and lift her arms helplessly as water sluiced off her. She shouted something he was relatively sure was meant for him. He winced and slowed, then checked his rear view mirror and backed up until the Jeep was next to her.
“You okay?”
She was wearing orange running shorts and a white T-shirt, which were now plastered to her slender curves, he noticed appreciably. Water dripped from her dark ponytail, and wet bangs hung in her eyes—eyes that were shooting lasers at him. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
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