Cavanaugh's Secret Delivery

by Marie Ferrarella

Dugan inclined his head. “Right.” And then he looked at her. “So, you have a feeling about them?” he questioned. “A gut feeling?”

  “Yes, I do. I know, you’re going to make fun of it, aren’t you?” she said, second-guessing his reaction.

  “Not at all. I was just going to ask you if you have any more of those gut feelings.”

  “About what?” she asked cautiously, not sure what he was after.

  He took a breath. “I’m asking if you have any gut feelings about us.”

  “About us?” she echoed, rather surprised that he’d ask something like that. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Anything you want to say,” he answered, trying his best to sound nonchalant about it. “I’m just exploring the subject. Do you have a gut feeling about us?” he asked.

  “I know that I’m grateful to you for saving my life and for delivering my baby,” she said, steering away from the actual question. “I’m never going to be able to pay you back for that.”

  “I’m not asking to be paid back,” he told her, clearly frustrated at the direction this conversation was going.

  “Then what are you asking for?” she asked.

  Her voice was low and it felt as if it was undulating under his skin, arousing him.

  “You,” he answered softly, the single word throbbing with emotion.

  “Go on,” she coaxed.

  He ran his hand through his hair, restless. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he was at a complete loss. His words were deserting him.

  “You’re making this hard,” he complained.

  “No, I’m not,” she countered. “What about me?” she asked.

  When she looked at him like that, there was only one answer he could give. “I want you.”

  Toni could feel her heart accelerating, but she forced herself to sound calm.

  “For how long?”

  “How does forever sound?” he asked.

  She was afraid of jumping to the wrong conclusion. Baby steps, Toni. Baby steps. “You want to move in?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course I do,” he answered. “Husbands and wives usually live together.”

  For a second, the world froze. She blinked, shaking her head. “Hold it, back up. I think you missed a step there,” she said, shaken.

  Dugan flushed. “I forgot to ask you to marry me, didn’t I?”

  She could feel herself melting. He was adorable. “Um, yes, you did.”

  Suddenly it was his turn to be nervous. Nervous because he had all but already asked her and she hadn’t said anything one way or the other, other than to point out that he hadn’t actually asked. Which meant she could still say no and he’d be left standing here, not knowing what to say next or how to make an exit without looking like a complete idiot.

  “So? Are you going to ask?” Toni prompted.

  Maybe she wouldn’t say no, after all. Dugan took a deep breath as if he was about to dive into the deep end of the pool, and said, “Toni O’Keefe, will you marry me?”

  She wanted to scream “Yes!” but there was one point that had to be made clear—just in case. “You realize that I come as a set, don’t you?”

  He looked at her, puzzled. Did she think he forgot that?

  “Of course I realize that. I love that baby of yours just as much as I love you,” he told her. “So?” he asked uneasily when she didn’t say anything. “Is it yes?”

  That was when he saw it, the smile that formed in her eyes before it ever reached her lips.

  “You dummy, it’s been yes from the night that you delivered Heather,” she told him, throwing her arms around his neck.

  Relieved, he told her, “You could have led off with that.”

  “And miss seeing you sweat out this proposal? Not on your life, Cavanaugh,” she laughed.

  Toni stopped laughing. The sound disappeared the second that he kissed her.

  She didn’t laugh for a long time.

  * * * * *

  Don’t forget previous titles in the

  Cavanaugh Justice series:

  Cavanaugh Vanguard

  Cavanaugh Encounter

  Cavanaugh on Call

  Cavanaugh in the Rough

  Available now from

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  Agent Bodyguard

  by Karen Anders

  Chapter 1

  The Embassy of the United States of America

  Khida, Ja’arbah, Middle East

  I don’t want children, Jenna. I thought you realized that when we married.

  Jenna Webb walked up the embassy steps on her way to meet her husband for dinner. The husband who had dropped the bomb on her just last night: no children.

  She spied Sergeant Austin Beck, who must have just come off guard duty, still dressed in his uniform, short-sleeved khaki shirt, midnight blue trousers with a red stripe, and the white peaked hat or, as the military referred to it, cover. He was a momentary distraction from her thoughts; every time she laid eyes on him, even through her current distress and unhappiness, her heart beat just a little bit harder.

  He paused on the stairs to talk to someone and Jenna looked up the length of the Chancery to the window of her husband’s office building.

  She sighed softly, remembering how he’d informed her in that brook-no-argument voice, as if that was the final word. No children. That had floored her. Of course, he was twenty-five years older than she was. She’d been coaxed into the marriage by her father at twenty. She’d even left school halfway through her degree in architecture, convinced that Robert was the right man for her. She had been...was in love with him four years later, but had it been the starry-eyed kind? Was she starting to see clearly for the first time in her life? Could she give up on herself again? She regretted not finishing school, not pursuing her ambition to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Jenna had admired her so much.

  Her father had meant well, even with his overprotective instincts. Her mother, a renowned architect, had been killed in an insurrection overseas when she was on a job. Her father had been devastated, and she’d found herself giving in to his wishes to save him more pain. But her choice of degree and vocation weighed heavily on him and she could see how it worried him to the point of affecting his health. Had she allowed herself to be blinded by her father’s distress, thinking once she was married she would be conten
t to be a wife and mother, especially a mother?

  Even as she realized that disappointment was part of life, she felt that Robert had led her on. Emotion welled in her chest, her throat getting thick, tears hovering. She pushed them back. This would be a terrible place to have a breakdown. She couldn’t be late. Robert hated it when she was late. That wasn’t always the case. Robert had been attentive and sweet to her throughout their courtship.

  But if her father, God rest his soul, had known that her CEO husband would become an ambassador and take her to many overseas assignments, he would have never recommended marriage to him. A little nagging voice told her she might have made a mistake.

  When she got married, Jenna had every expectation that motherhood was an unspoken promise. But it was a bitter and disappointing pill, that she’d never know the joy of having kids of her own. Children she could give all her unconditional love to without fear of them not loving her back. Losing her mom when she’d been eight left her with loneliness, a keen sense of isolation and a strong desire to give her own children the nurturing Jenna had lost.

  She closed her eyes briefly at the pain that thought caused. Her inattention cost her as the right toe of her expensive pair of the-ambassador’s-wife heels caught on the stair and pitched her forward.

  Bracing herself for impact, she instinctively reached out her hand to break her fall, but instead of striking against concrete, she hit something hard. She looked up into Sergeant Austin Beck’s handsome, concerned face.

  “Mrs. Webb,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

  Without meaning to, she burst into tears. Austin helped her to her feet as she worked at getting herself under control, his muscles thick and firm beneath her palms. He set his arm around her, and she bit her lip. It should have been comforting, but when Austin got anywhere near her, all she felt was hot and bothered. That was so, so wrong.

  He supported her inside and when the Post One guard saw them, he buzzed them through. “Mrs. Webb isn’t feeling well. I’ll escort her up.”

  The marine behind the glass nodded, giving Austin a be careful look. It wasn’t lost on some of the employees that she and Austin had a special friendship. The cautious look was a warning to be careful about getting involved with the ambassador’s wife.

  Mortified, she could do nothing but allow him to help her up the wide marble stairway.

  “I can’t see him just yet,” she murmured. He changed course and led her directly to the conference room just before her husband’s suite of offices.

  She got a nervous feeling in her stomach when she thought about Austin, and the churning got worse when she thought about her husband. Robert was nothing like him. He was overprotective where Austin was protective, distant where Austin was so approachable, stern where Austin was warm. She felt an enormous amount of guilt at those thoughts, but she had to admit to herself, they were honest.

  On her frequent visits to the embassy, she’d had brief conversations with Austin when her husband had been delayed or hadn’t remembered they had a lunch date. She and Austin had eaten together a few times. He’d told her all about his work and it had been fun and interesting, being with him in her otherwise mundane day. Austin manned “Post One,” the main hub and control center of embassy security. Behind the bullet-and explosion-proof glass he managed and, if need be, could secure the whole embassy, checked monitors for any breaches of the compound, and could respond immediately to any threats or incidents. Post One did ID checks of all incoming personnel, performed roaming patrols and at night looked for any secured/classified infractions.

  She could see why Austin had been chosen for this type of duty, and why he excelled at it. He always knew how to connect to the people around him, marine or otherwise. That personable nature of his was just the kind his command would want at an embassy: a big heart, a warm smile and the ability to handle anything that came at him. She found herself thinking about him all too often and wondering what kind of man he was. A flirt for sure. He just about had all the women here wrapped around his finger as he gave them smiles and winks as he buzzed them through the security doors. Marine guards were known for their heartbreaking ways.

  Yet she went a little liquid thinking about how he would handle her.

  He closed the door behind him and helped her to a seat. “Let me get you something to drink,” he said, his voice soft and concerned. He went to a credenza at the end of the room and poured her a glass from the crystal pitcher.

  He grabbed a box of tissues and came back to her, sitting down across from her. He offered her the glass and the tissues. She took both, sipping the water, then setting it down on the conference room table. She dabbed at her eyes and finally looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry to be any trouble, especially now that you’re off-duty.”

  “I’m never off-duty, ma’am.” The concern in his eyes made her wish he would hold her, but that was a dangerous and very inappropriate thought. “Are you feeling better?” She wished she could say that her wishes were silly, but she knew that if given even half a chance, she might find herself in bed with him. She’d taken vows and she wasn’t free to indulge herself with another man, no matter how attractive he was. She was vulnerable and hurting from Robert’s refusal to consider children. Her weakness could lead her so far astray without much effort on Austin’s part.

  She was cold even in this heat and felt that she wouldn’t be warm again.

  Then he reached out and clasped her hand and heat flooded through her. These imprudent feelings and thoughts were just simply out of her control. She was unhappy in her marriage; she’d be devastated to know that she was nothing but a trophy wife to Robert. She wasn’t expected to give him children, she wasn’t expected to do any type of work, she wasn’t expected to keep the home. All he expected of her was acquiescence and to be impeccably groomed on his arm when he needed her. Otherwise, it was out of sight, out of mind.

  Tears welled again and her throat got tight; a small sob escaped her.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he said, obviously anguished by her tears and sorrow.

  She squeezed his hand and rose, pushing back the pain and the barren feeling in the pit of her stomach. “No, but you’re so kind. Thank you for escorting me inside.”

  This should be oh-so-embarrassing and equally awkward, but there was never any awkwardness with Austin, and his open, gorgeous gray eyes held no judgment or censure, nothing but warmth.

  He stepped closer and the air backed up in her lungs. “You would tell me, Mrs. Webb, if I could ever be of service?” His voice was mostly neutral, but there was an undercurrent of heat in his words. His eyes were like hard flint.

  The air in the room felt agitated as if the molecules were knocking against each other because of the friction. Her attention narrowed down to Austin. The scent of him, the shape of his lips, the unique color of his hair, the intensity in his eyes.

  “Of course.”

  She went to go, but he slipped his hand around her upper arm, warm and electrifying, halting her. Jenna turned back. “Is he hurting you?” His voice dropped down into the lethal zone, deep and menacing. Jenna realized that Austin might be personable, but he was a marine through and through.

  Her voice caught at his touch against her bare skin, her body responding, challenging her will. Her response just short of a whisper, “Yes, but not like you think. I’ve got to go. He’s expecting me.”

  He let go of her slowly, as if he, too, was fighting his own will, his hand sliding along her arm, causing waves of tingles. She dabbed at her eyes one more time, tossed the tissue in the trash and looked at Austin before she opened the door. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  She pushed the door open and let it close softly behind her. Taking a deep breath, knowing that she was breaking her marriage vows by responding to him like this, she couldn’t seem to help it. She pushed the guilt and sorrow to a place out of sight to man
age a pleasant dinner with a husband who wasn’t one in any sense of the word.

  * * *

  Sergeant Austin Beck stepped into the hall where the Marine Corps Birthday Ball was going to be held. It was considered one of the most prestigious diplomatic functions the embassy would host, with dignitaries attending from Khida and foreign embassies. Jenna—Mrs. Webb—had outdone herself with the preparations. He had to stop using her first name in his head. He hadn’t been invited to, nor was it appropriate to be fraternizing with an ambassador’s wife. He had a longtime girlfriend, but when he looked at Jenna, she captivated him.

  The problem was getting her tear-streaked face off his mind. She said he was hurting her and it had bothered him ever since. He was dedicated to his service to the embassy and Ambassador Webb was his commanding officer, so to speak, but the man treated Jenna like she was some kind of freaking possession. If he was physically abusing her, there wouldn’t be anything to stop Austin from breaking both his arms so he couldn’t lay a hand on her.

  He took a breath to release the tension across his shoulders encased in the deep blue dress jacket. As the youngest marine here, he would be involved in the kickoff cake-eating ceremony. It was an old Marine Corps Birthday Ball tradition. The oldest marine cut the cake, ate a bite and passed it on to the youngest, symbolic of the birth of the marine corps.

  Without even meaning to, he sought her out. She was talking to another marine and she looked gorgeous. Her deep maroon, open-backed gown clung to her trim body, her shoulders peeking out from the cutouts, the collar high, accentuating her slender neck, the vibrant color making her long, dark wavy hair, now tamed and in an intricate up-do, stand out, along with her clear, stunning, cobalt blue eyes. He caught his breath at the creamy expanse of her back. He searched her face for any signs of unrest, but she was either putting on a good show or she had gotten over whatever had upset her.

  He suspected it was the former.

  He started toward her, then realized that it was stupid and instead made his way to a large cake with vanilla frosting. The ball got under way then, the music started up and the buffet line opened up. He managed to keep his distance from her, even though she glanced in his direction more than once. He kept telling himself that he was just concerned about her situation, that he wasn’t fascinated by her eyes, or thought way too long about her mouth.