by JM Stewart
Of course, the bigger question was…was he tonight’s date?
The thought made her stomach flip-flop. What she wanted was to turn around and run. Of all the men she could have ended up with tonight, it had to be him. She was here, though, and curiosity had her by the heart. She’d thought of him often over the years.
Besides, Steph Mason didn’t run from anything.
She drew her shoulders back, plastered on her best “no care in the world” smile, and sauntered in his direction. “Gabriel Donovan.”
His head snapped in her direction, and familiar hazel eyes settled on her. Oh, she didn’t have to see them to know their color. She’d know those eyes anywhere, because she’d spent years trying not to stare at them. Beautiful and intense, they were a mix of chocolate brown and a deep, mossy green. They widened as recognition dawned over him. “Stephanie Mason. I’ll be damned.”
As she came to a stop in front of him, she had to tip her head back to look into his face. He stood a good head above her, and she shivered with the power of that broad body.
“The last time I saw you, you were crawling out of my bed.” She attempted to keep the conversation light, but the truth was, the last night they were together, Gabe had gotten a phone call that changed his entire world. His parents had died a tragic, senseless death, literally at the wrong place at the wrong time. A robbery attempt gone wrong had left him suddenly in charge of his teenaged sister. Gabe had dropped out of school a week later and moved home to Oregon to take care of Molly.
“Been a long time, Steph.” He grinned, revealing a dazzling smile that eleven years ago would have taken her breath away. Now it sent more memories flooding through her mind. That playful smile had drawn her in the first time he’d flashed it at her.
“That it has. Last I heard from you, you’d joined the navy. They were stationing you in California.” They’d kept in touch for a while after he went home but had slowly lost track of each other over the years.
He gave an absentminded nod. “Camp Coronado. It’s where I did my BUD/S training.”
Buds training…Where had she heard that term before? Wait a minute…“You were a SEAL?”
He darted a glance at her. “Team three. Moved back here about four years ago.”
She nudged him with an elbow. “Seriously impressive.”
He didn’t say anything, but seemed to draw within himself. His gaze slid off to his right, and awkward tension moved over him. She searched her thoughts for something, anything, to pull him out of what seemed to be heavy thoughts, when her gaze settled on his tie. The sapphire blue stood out against the stark white of his shirt. Damn. That tie meant Gabe was her date.
Well, the only thing to do now was face it head-on. The way she did everything.
She drew a deep breath for courage and tugged on his tie. “Blue.”
His gaze snapped back to her, dropped to his tie, then returned to her again. One corner of his mouth hitched. He nodded in her direction, no doubt indicating the similar color of her shirt. Amusement and recognition glinted in his eyes. “Also blue.”
“That makes you the date I’ve been waiting for.” She couldn’t be sure if she wanted to hug the stuffing out of him or puke on his shoes. Despite everything, it was good to see him. She had to admit, if only to herself, she’d missed him.
He shook his head, reached up to rub the back of his neck, and glanced around him. “Sorry I’m late. Forgot what part of the park we were supposed to meet at. I swore I wrote it down, but I couldn’t find the damn note.”
She lifted a brow. “Nervous?”
For that one small thing, she was eternally grateful. At least she wasn’t the only one coming out of her skin. She’d thought about this moment a lot over the years. Where he was, what his life was like, what she’d do if she ever saw him again. She hadn’t anticipated the power of being in his presence again, though. In the courtroom, she could hold her own. Here with him? Her knees were shaking.
He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Does it show?”
“Nope. You’re as solid as ever. Don’t feel bad. This date has my stomach tied into knots on top of knots.” Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she punched him lightly in the shoulder. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m good.” Gabe laughed, his gaze sweeping the length of her. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as sexy as ever. The hair’s changed, though. You had a pixie cut last I saw you. Long looks good on you.”
The husky timbre of his voice made her nipples tighten. Whether consciously or otherwise, he reached out and pushed her hair back off her shoulder, his fingers brushing the skin of her neck. A full-out shiver swept the length of her spine. God, she was doomed. One touch from him sent fire burning through her blood.
“You’re still the same. Same curls, same crooked smile.” He had lines around his eyes now, but she liked them. They lent his appearance a maturity that looked good on him. As if it were possible for Gabe Donovan to get any sexier.
He dropped his hand, his mouth forming a thin line. Something somber moved over him and the playful air between them shifted. “I’ve changed. Parts of me, at least.”
She frowned, trying to comprehend the sudden tension moving over him. That was the second time in five minutes he’d gotten that look on his face. It was subtle but undeniable.
He stared at her for a beat, then slid his hand down his left thigh, inching the pant leg of his jeans up enough to reveal his ankle. Or at least, what should have been an ankle. Instead, there was a metal rod attached to some sort of plastic device. It took all of two seconds to realize what he was showing her. Gabe had lost his leg.
“Oh my God.” Her breath caught in a suddenly full throat as the aching realization punched her in the chest. Her eyes misted, a million horror-filled visions floating through her mind. Namely, how he’d lost it. Was it a roadside bomb? Or a suicide bomber? The thought of him in any one of the possibilities made breathing impossible. God, now she really wanted to hug the stuffing out of him.
She stroked her hand down his thigh, following the length of his leg. The muscle beneath tensed, but he didn’t pull away or ask her to stop. Her hand smoothed over solid muscle, then over the bone of his knee. So he had that much at least.
When she looked up at him again, he stood with his shoulders drawn back, mouth a thin, tight line. Those hazel eyes searched hers. Anxious. Waiting.
Her minded shifted gears, and her face heated. God, what her reaction must seem to him. She drew back her trembling hand and straightened. Pull it together.
“I’m sorry. You surprised me. I’m imagining the pain, how it must have happened…” Despite her best effort, her voice wobbled, and she let the rest of the sentence float off on the breeze. She must look like a blubbering idiot. She was a divorce attorney for one of the best firms in the city. Not much surprised her or frightened her anymore. But the thought of him wounded had her heart in a vise.
He stared at her for a beat, eyes reaching and searching. Whatever he looked for, he seemed to find, for he cupped her chin in his palm and stroked her skin with his thumb. The tension in his body dissipated. “I’m alive and otherwise whole. It’s just a foot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to make a joke of it. Clearly you haven’t changed.”
He dropped his hand and held out his elbow instead. “Walk with me?”
She nodded, took his proffered elbow, and they started off, following the trail leading around the lake. All things considered, he walked well, with the same smooth, lanky gait he’d had years ago. If he hadn’t shown her his prosthesis, she wouldn’t have suspected.
“I lost the leg in Iraq, a little over four years ago. My third stint over there. I was on a truck at the end of a convoy that was hit by a bazooka rocket. We were acting as support for the local militia when we were ambushed.”
“Did it hurt?” Another stupid question, but she was having a hard time with this one. She couldn’t stop picturing him on that truck—the r
ocket exploding through the men, him being hurled from the vehicle. Her chest constricted and tears filled her eyes all over again.
“Oddly enough, not at first. It’s how I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t feel my leg. Hurt like a bitch when I came to in the hospital, though. It was a lot of physical therapy and learning how to walk again. Now…” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. It’s just another part of me, I guess.”
“You were nervous, though, telling me.” She glanced up at him, offering him an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry about my reaction. It wasn’t the leg. It was just…a shock, I guess. I’m still picturing you running circles around me and teasing me for being so slow.”
They’d originally met because they’d run the same loop around the University of Washington campus. She’d passed him every day. One evening he’d jogged up beside her and started a conversation that launched a thousand others.
“I can still run circles around you.” He playfully bumped her shoulder; then somberness settled over him again. “You’re not the first person I’ve told, but it’s never easy to do. I never know how people will react. Some people can’t handle it.”
She squeezed his biceps. “I am sorry. I should have stopped to think about how that would seem to you.”
“Forget about it. The look on your face told me what you were thinking right then.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve never had a great poker face.”
He glided to a stop and turned to her. The quiet, all-too-familiar intensity of his gaze made her shiver in spite of herself. “Apparently we’re stuck together for the evening. How ’bout some dinner?”
She shouldn’t. Since her breakup with Alec, she hadn’t had anything resembling a normal relationship. When she’d agreed to this date, she’d wanted a middle road, a first step, and history told her that nothing with Gabe would ever be uncomplicated. He was here, though, and she couldn’t deny that for eleven years she’d been dying to catch up with him.
She smiled. “Sounds great.”
Acknowledgments
I have a few people I’d like to send out my gratitude to. First off, to author Vonnie Davis for being generous enough to share her knowledge of the SEALs with a (slightly) overwhelmed author. I can never thank you enough, V!
To a few of the ladies on my street team, Jo’s Jewels, particularly Terri Rochenski, Nicole Lieren, Kathryn Knight, Bette, Shawnee, Jennifer Wilck, and Angela, for letting me pick their brains during revisions.
And to Pat, Shelly, Debbie, Dixie, Rosemary, Tina, and Judith, also on my street team. For your love and support and for picking me up on those days when my ego had taken a beating. So honored to know you ladies!
I can’t write this without sending a special thanks to my editor, Jessie, for doing what she does best and for taking my book and helping me to make it shine. You make me actually enjoy editing. Who knew?! LOL.
Last, but not least, I have to stop and thank my agent, Dawn Dowdle, for her continuous support and positive energy.
About the Author
JM Stewart is a coffee and chocolate addict who lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, two sons, and two very spoiled dogs. She’s a hopeless romantic who believes everybody should have their happily ever after and has been devouring romance novels for as long as she can remember. Writing them has become her obsession.
Learn more at:
AuthorJMStewart.com
Facebook.com/AuthorJMStewart
Twitter: @JMStewartWriter
Also by JM Stewart
The Seattle Bachelors Series
Bidding on the Billionaire
Winning the Billionaire
Bargaining for the Billionaire
Claiming the Billionaire
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