Strong hands—hands that had brought her so much pleasure over the past several hours—held her arms in a vice-like grip. "No. No one, especially a woman, wants to hear about my mistakes and failures. Hell, I'm tired of thinking about them myself." He released her and sunk onto the bed, his hands holding his head. "All you need to know is you deserve better, so much better. For a moment I allowed myself to believe… But I was wrong." Unshed tears glinted in the troubled depths.
Way out of my depth, but I have to try. "I don't believe that for a minute, but if you feel that way, tell me why. Help me understand."
He patted the space on the bed next to him, but her feet refused to move. Instead, she knelt down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees. His eyes closed for a moment while his chest contracted and expanded, breath struggling to enter and leave his lungs. She refused to focus on how well the muscles framing his chest and abs felt pressed against her body. How safe she'd been in his arms.
When he opened his eyes and stared directly at her gaze, she saw it. The guilt, the pain, the regret—she could almost see the heavy weight of emotion pulling him down. He'd been able to keep this hidden from her, only glimpses of the pain coming through. But now, after all they had shared, maybe he would let her completely in—see who he really was. His head moved slowly and it took her a moment to realize he was shaking it. "I don't want to talk about this. I want to forget it and move forward."
Her hands squeezed his thigh tighter, trying to offer reassurance. "Daniel, you obviously can't move forward. I know we can't move forward until you deal with this." She leaned in closer and kissed him on the cheek. "I really like you and want to explore…how did you phrase it? Whatever this is. I'm a good listener. Let's work through this together."
The faraway look on his face intensified the pain in her heart. "This was another in a long line of mistakes I've made. I'm sorry." The finality in his voice saddened her. He was giving up. On himself and, by shutting her out, on further exploration between the two of them.
All of the negative emotions settled in the center of her heart. "I was nothing more than a mistake to you? I don't really believe you mean it, but if that's how you want to play this, I don't know what more to say." She kissed him on the cheek again and searched his face for any sign of a change of heart. Nothing. Not even a glance from those gorgeous blue eyes. Nothing but the downward tilt of those beautiful lips—lips that had made her smile and brought so much pleasure. The transformation was heartbreaking. She sighed and started to pack her things, time to go home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Melodie stumbled into her drab, one bedroom apartment, praying the comfort of home would ease the heart-wrenching pain tormenting her from the moment she stepped outside of her hotel room. She'd left Daniel, hurting and hiding behind his pain. She'd wanted him to explain, practically begged him to share with her. He'd made love to her, made her feel like the most amazing woman in the world and shut her out precisely at the moment she'd been willing to step outside the pages of the books she'd been hiding behind.
She flung herself onto the couch, tears falling unhindered. Every muscle, every inch of her body hurt. The strain from the emotional roller coaster she'd been on for months now begged for release. She cursed the war, cursed Tom for leaving her to serve, and cursed Daniel for showing her a side of herself she didn't realize existed. Damn them all!
Exhaustion won the battle over emotion, and she succumbed to sleep once the supply of tears dried up. The cycle started over as her eyes slowly opened. This time, however, the focus had changed. Images of Daniel flashed through her mind and left her with one resounding stream of thought. Daniel needed her as much as she needed him. The war hurt them both, in similar yet different ways.
Hot tears, a fresh supply from somewhere, burned her cheeks as realization slammed into her. His pain, the cocky arrogance, the haunted look in his eyes, each and every one a signal his wounds ran as deep as hers—mostly likely even deeper. The war may not have taken his life, but it robbed him of the belief he deserved happiness. And what had she done? Let a lifetime of messed-up relationships make her leave before she could force him to explain, to talk things through, to kiss and makeup.
She hugged the pillow tighter, grief consuming her to the depths of her soul. Minutes morphed into hours until the waterworks, as her mother termed them, dried up. Thankfully, no one knew she'd come home early, so they'd leave her alone until she could pull herself together enough to face them, their criticism, and their instruction on how to "fix" her life.
Work. Work would help her find the balance in her life again. The children. The books. The escape. Daniel's presence challenged everything she thought she knew about herself, her choices, and her wants. I want him. She pulled her sorry butt off the bed and lumbered into the bathroom. Some cold water on her face and a hot shower for her body—just what the doctor ordered. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
The cold water from the sink spelled relief to her red, puffy eyes. Hopefully, the swelling and discoloration would disappear. Otherwise, the children would be frightened. They'd probably tell her she looked like a character from The Spooky Series she read to them each Halloween. A glimpse of red with a white, weird shaped "X" on it caught her eye—Daniel's shirt. She'd been wearing it as they ate breakfast this morning—before everything went horribly wrong.
Inhaling deeply, she smelled his cologne. A spicy, manly scent, but the name escaped her. There were too many memories from their all-night adventure to remember such a detail. More research to add to the list. She removed it carefully before running a hot bath. The shirt and the faint scent were all that remained of the man who'd snuck in and stolen her heart right from underneath her nose.
Slipping under the bubbles, her eyes closed. Images of Daniel's smile, the cocky way he held his head, and the intensity in those cerulean depths as he peered into her very soul flooded her mind, making relaxation impossible. She drew a deep breath. Enough of the pity party. She'd learned enough about herself over the past few days to know she'd changed…for the good. The corners of her mouth turned upward in a small smile. Though she had no reason to believe it, no way to reach him, nothing but a T-shirt to hold onto, something inside her romance-novel-loving heart told her their story wasn't quite finished.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Thursday
Thank God his dream girl's occupation was a children's librarian and not an employee of the secret service. Finding her required some time but posed little difficulty. The last few days had been pure hell as he fought his greatest enemy—himself.
When she left, hurt and upset at his refusal to talk about that day, his first inclination had been to hit the bar. He'd let the first good thing in his life, outside of Annie, walk right out the door with so little a fight the soldier in him was ashamed. Instead of drowning his sorrows in the bottle, he'd submerged them with his tears. Hot tears of grief for the men whose lives had been lost, guilt for the role he'd played in their deaths, and anger that no one had blamed him. No one but himself. After leaving the war zone, he'd visited the families of each of the three men. Not only did they not yell or scream at him, they'd forgiven him.
Despite countless hours of self-reflection, he couldn't understand their forgiveness. If anyone ever played a part in something bad happening to Annie…
Annie. She was the reason he kept holding on despite the blackness in his heart and soul. Her innocence and love gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be redeemed even though he didn't see how. And now Melodie, in her quiet reserved nature and smile that cut through all his bullshit, had found a way to bring a little more light into the darkness.
He'd left the hotel room that afternoon with a purpose. He would find Melodie and give her the explanation she'd asked for. Even if she wouldn't give him another chance to pursue whatever it was they were starting, he'd still tell her the truth. He owed her that. Maybe through dealing with his grief, he could help her deal with her own.
Tha
nkfully, Melodie had mentioned at least the geographical area of Chicago she lived in, and he'd operated under the assumption she worked in the same area. Risky, but gotta start somewhere. With no cell phone number or address to go from, he sketched together a plan from her name, occupation, and his one additional detail. She'd told him she lived in the southwest suburbs of Chicago.
He'd hopped on the first flight to Chicago and checked in to the airport hotel. After several hours of quality time with Google, YP.com, and his cell phone, he'd found her. His enigma worked at the library in Bolingbrook, tucked nicely between three other similar suburbs. A forty-five minute commute later, he stepped inside the brick walls of the library. His pulse quickened when the breathtaking emerald of her eyes once again streamed into his line of vision. God, how he'd missed them. Missed her.
Mesmerized children sat in a semi-circle around Melodie, her expressions and tone of voice transported everyone, including him, to a world of giants, kings, princesses, and happily-ever-afters. Hell, she could read him a bedtime story every night. Wearing sexy lingerie, of course. Her voice provided the background noise for the fantasy playing out in his head. As his other head grew impatient for the story to end so he could make his apology, he tucked the daydream safely under the covers until he could revisit it again or, preferably, replace it with the flesh-and-blood woman sitting across the room.
The last page turned as the fairy tale ending neared. He stepped from behind the bookshelf, doubling as cover, and joined in her final words, "And they lived happily ever after."
Visions of Melodie surrounded by miniature replicas of her…or him created an odd sense of peace deep within his soul. Her eyes locked with his for a moment before exuberant children with pent-up energy from sitting so long rushed the little stage to topple her with hugs and squeals of joy.
Incredibly beautiful, warm, caring, and vibrant. His insides vibrated with longing, the need to hold her in his arms and to promise her they'd find a way to put their troubled pasts behind them rendered him momentarily speechless. The arrival of the parents to claim their children snapped him from his thoughts.
Only one little girl remained. "Miss Melodie?"
"Yes, Nessa?"
"Who is he?" The red-haired little girl with bright eyes hidden behind blue-framed glasses pointed in his direction.
Not wanting to give Melodie a chance to explain, he made the strides necessary to put him squarely in front of the little girl. Crouching down, he offered his best smile. Leaning in, he whispered, "Can you promise to keep a secret?"
Wide eyes blinked as her head nodded in agreement.
"I'm her knight in shining armor."
Nessa gasped and covered her mouth, "You are?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you two gonna live happily ever after?"
He chanced a quick look at Melodie, wide-eyed and looking as interested in the answer as Nessa. "Well, young lady, there's a big giant—like the one after Jack—trying to keep us apart. I'm going to do everything in my power to vanquish the bad guy and rescue milady. Can I count on you for help, if needed?" He leveled a wannabe-serious glare at Nessa. At that moment, he was very thankful for all the bedtime stories he'd read to Annie.
Her face wrinkled, scrunching her tiny nose in an adorable fashion. "I'm only six. You're on your own, mister."
He hung his head, hands over his heart. "I shall try to be brave then."
Nessa giggled. "You're silly." She caught sight of her mother and ran toward her. "Bye, Miss Melodie. Bye, Mr. Knight."
Melodie's smile disappeared, the sadness returning to her face. "I'm surprised to see you. I…I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"I know. You presented a bit of a challenge to find too. I'm sorry about what happened, but I want to talk. What time do you get off?"
"In about fifteen. How'd you find me?"
Her curious nature served as the opportunity to convince her to talk. "Let me buy you dinner, and I'll explain everything."
"Coffee and dessert."
"Drinks?" Threads of desperation seeped into his tone, both alarming and aggravating him. This woman had a way of knocking him off balance every time they spoke.
The familiar site of chocolate brown waves swishing over her shoulders eased the momentary frustration. "I need caffeine." She directed a pointed look squarely at him. "Haven't been sleeping well the past few days."
"Coffee it is." Don't sell past the yes. Good advice his father reminded him of countless times when he was younger.
Thirty minutes later, they were seated at a nearby Starbucks, a triple nonfat latte for her, and black coffee for him, with matching chocolate chip cookies sitting between them.
"How did you find me?"
Straight to the point. I like a woman who doesn't play games. "I made a lot of calls to libraries in the past day or so."
"Why did you find me?"
"Because you left before we could finish our conversation. I've had some time to think, and I'd like the opportunity to explain."
She sipped the hot beverage, watching him through long dark lashes. "I'm sorry I left so abruptly. I…I felt…I don't even know how to explain it. Generally, I'm not that quick to react."
"You were upset. I get it. Now you've had some time to think, can we talk?" Please God, let her be willing to talk about this. He needed to put this behind him and move forward.
A piece of cookie found its way to her mouth as she nodded. He tried hard to remain focused. Nice to know her ability to distract him hadn't diminished.
A slow, deep breath helped him continue. He looked around to see who else might hear his confession. Thankfully, there was only one other patron having their coffee inside, and she was on the other side of the café. "I thought a lot about what you said that morning. I want to tell you what happened."
She took his hand, sending a jolt of warmth through his limbs. "I really do want to know."
He took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and nodded. "I volunteered for the assignment. One of the locals, who I'd come to know and had fed me and my unit information about rebel activity when I was an enlisted man, had been kidnapped by a faction. He was being held in a remote village. His family hired my company for a rescue attempt. We took two trucks. The first one, manned by three men in uniforms, contained supplies. We wanted it to look like a humanitarian mission in case we were being watched. The second vehicle, my truck, had the weapons."
He released her hand, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. "Everything had been going according to plan when we came to a fork in the road. Both roads led to the same place and, according to the map, were essentially the same distance. The only notable difference was the towns each traversed along the way. The intel in my briefing package revealed no significant threat difference between the two routes. I had to choose."
He opened his eyes. "I had to make a choice—left or right." He exhaled, blinking back the few tears he'd not managed to get rid of. "I chose wrong, and the first truck in the convoy hit the buried bomb not even half a mile down the road. Those three men lost their lives that day because of the decision I made."
The tears bathing her beautiful cheeks almost broke his resolve not to cry. Wanting to feel close to her again, he covered her hand with his. "I thought I'd accepted my role in the incident after my time with the shrink. After you left, I yelled, screamed, even cursed God and everybody wishing this had never happened or that I could just forget about it and move on. In the end, though, I decided I needed to talk about it at least once more. Because of what you went through with Tom, you are the person I wanted to tell. So many brave men and women lost their lives over there. I want you to find peace, even if I'm not at that point yet."
The coffee cup sat forgotten as her gaze pierced his. She was still here, listening intently, so he decided to finish.
"You have to believe that Tom's death had meaning. He died serving his country and trying to help the people in a country ravaged by war. It doesn't make it any
easier, but I hope someday you can see the honor in the choices he made. On the other hand, I would give anything to go back and make a different choice—right instead of left."
Her gaze sharpened. He could almost see her mind focus. After several long, painstaking moments, she finally spoke. "It might not have made a difference."
"What?"
"You're assuming there weren't any mines on the other road."
Damn, she's right. He slumped back, his mind begrudgingly reliving the fateful day. "I…I'd never really considered it. The shrink and I focused primarily on the aspect of my survival and the resulting guilt. The subject that either direction might've had the same results never surfaced." If he were still in the military, he'd demand that Lieutenant lose a few stripes.
The silence stretched between them as the information soaked through layers of guilt, denial, and hurt.
"You forgive me?" He needed to know. Her forgiveness was the main reason he'd gone to all this trouble to find her again.
She shook her head, sending a spark of pain straight to the center of his heart. He truly didn't know how he'd ever find another woman who affected him as intensely as the woman sitting across from him. Or how I'll find peace.
"There's nothing you need forgiveness for from me. You need to forgive yourself."
"Yeah, well, that's easier said than done." The last thing he needed was someone else psychoanalyzing him.
"I understand. Truly, I do. I've been angry at Tom for leaving me and for getting himself killed. Your words have challenged me to rethink all of it from a different perspective. Rather than focus on his death, I'll focus on his bravery and sacrifice."
She stood, and his heart paused its beating. She was going to leave, and he'd be alone…again. "Let's get out of here," Melodie's hand extended toward him.
The wild thumping in his chest signaled his heart still worked. His inability to read her at this moment both perplexed and excited him. Was his shy librarian taking charge? Yeah, she definitely would be the death of him. But what a way to go.
More Than One Night Page 9
