Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Widow of Conard CountyA Match for the Single DadThe Medic's Homecoming

by Rachel Lee

But she did. With a powerful intensity she knew she would never forget, he brought her an orgasm that shattered her very being into a thousand flaming pieces.

  At the final moment, she was helpless to do anything but cry his name.

  * * *

  Liam lay with his cheek on her belly, listening to the thunder of her pulse gradually subside as he tried to both hold her and shield her.

  A kind of peace flowed through him, easing him in a way he hadn’t felt eased in a long time. He may have just made a huge mistake for both of them, but it was hard to care when he was feeling so good.

  He had given Sharon a precious gift, something he had rarely ever wanted to give a woman. He could feel that gift pulsing through her, feel it in the limpness of her body, hear it in her ragged breathing.

  Apparently, he wasn’t messed up that way, and it felt damn good. He could paint Sharon’s barn and house, and he could give her some great sex. It didn’t make him special or important, but it made him feel like a man again. All the other problems he’d been living with felt minuscule by comparison.

  Damn, she was fantastic. Open and eager to whatever he offered, giving herself without reservation. How often did you find that? Not very.

  Don’t toy with her.

  Was that what he had just done? God, he hoped not. But it had been building between them. He saw it in her glances, sometimes written on her face, and he knew they were both trying to ignore it. Trying not to give in. Now they had given in, and by his estimation, whatever the price, this was going to stay with him as a wondrous time he would never regret. Never.

  He could have stayed like this forever.

  It wouldn’t be enough, though. His chest ached as he thought about it, knowing that you couldn’t build a life on a fairy-tale experience. She needed a whole man, not a messed up one who would only make her life harder.

  He’d deal with that later. He just knew he’d been wanting her almost since the first instant he clapped eyes on her. Wanting her in a way that simply wouldn’t subside or be ignored.

  She had said she wanted him, too. And like some kind of idiot, he had thought that quickie yesterday would put it to rest for both of them. Needs satisfied, they could go on without the constant yearning.

  How wrong he’d been. His taste for her had simply grown even bigger, and apparently hers had, too.

  Damn, he wanted to cling to her right now and pretend tomorrow would never come. But it always came. Good or bad, it always came. Reality would return.

  But for right now, he could banish it.

  “Liam?”

  She breathed his name. Hearing it, he lifted his head.

  “Hold me,” she said huskily.

  So he slid up over her, turned on his side and drew her into his arms, throwing one leg over hers.

  “That was fantastic,” she whispered.

  “It sure was.”

  “I didn’t know I could...could...”

  Damn, she was blushing. “Never before?” he asked, absolutely delighted. He was sure a sappy grin creased his face.

  “I thought only other women could do that...”

  “Wow.” That amazed him. Of course, he could understand why she might not know. He was feeling sleepy enough for two men right now. It would have been easy to doze off right after their first round, and only a desire to please her had kept him going.

  She tipped her head and kissed his cheek. Then she giggled. “You smell like me.”

  “Can’t imagine why.”

  That unleashed another giggle.

  “Want me to go wash?”

  “Don’t you dare move.” She burrowed closer into his embrace until her head rested on his shoulder. Her arm wound around his waist. “You can add this to the list of things that make you wonderful.”

  He liked the sound of that a whole lot. “It’s not much...”

  She reached up to lay a finger over his lips. “We’re not going to do that. Not now. How are you?”

  “Frankly? I’m happy. I can’t ever remember feeling this happy.”

  “That’s a sweet thing to say.”

  “A true one.” Which was probably a sad comment on his entire life, but definitely true. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

  “I feel weak as a kitten,” she remarked.

  “Then sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to waste a minute with you.”

  Alarm bells clanged, but his current contentment muted them. He had a lot of experience living in the moment. Combat had taught that lesson quickly. Tomorrow would come or it wouldn’t. In this case it probably would since he didn’t expect any incoming rounds, but tomorrow was soon enough to deal with any fallout from this.

  He certainly wasn’t going to waste right now on things that hadn’t happened yet, that might not happen. Just take the good that life offered because you never knew when it might offer something good again.

  It had been a long, sleepless night for both of them. He barely realized that he was falling asleep before it carried him away.

  * * *

  Sharon lay awake a little longer, watching him sleep, feeling the growing need for some sleep herself, but she fought it off as long as she could. He had shown her a piece of heaven, and she wanted to replay every single instant in her mind repeatedly, as if to engrave it so that not a single moment would ever be forgotten.

  But she was exhausted from the long night, and pleasantly so from their lovemaking, and no matter how hard she fought it off, sleep claimed her. She slipped into wonderful dreams of golden fields, blue sky and sunshine.

  * * *

  “Liam!”

  The sharp cry woke him from a dark nightmare to a late golden afternoon. He sat up instantly, alert, ready for anything.

  “Liam!”

  It was hard, but he yanked himself out of that dark place into the present to see a naked Sharon kneeling beside him, looking at him with concern.

  “You were having a terrible nightmare,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” He closed his eyes, then reopened them. He stumbled out of the bed and began grabbing his clothes.

  “Liam?”

  “Damn it, Sharon, I held Chet in my arms while he died!”

  He jammed his feet into socks and boots and headed for the door.

  “Don’t run away from this. Don’t you dare!”

  He just kept going.

  * * *

  Sharon struggled into her clothes, her fingers misbehaving on every button. He’d held Chet while he died. God! But he better not head for the hills, not now. They had to deal with this. Both of them.

  Feeling shaky, she stumbled downstairs at last, afraid she would see no sign of him. She about panicked when he wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, but then she saw him standing out on the front porch. At least he hadn’t taken off.

  The screen door creaked as she stepped outside. She said nothing, but simply went to stand beside him. When the silence had stretched forever, and the sun had disappeared behind the nearby mountains, a chill crept into the air.

  She was losing him. Somehow she had to draw him back. Somehow.

  “You said it was instantaneous.” She hated the almost accusatory tone, but it made him stir. Until that moment he had been as still as stone.

  “It was, for him. He never woke up. It was longer for me.”

  “Oh, God.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she bit her knuckle.

  “I tried to save him. I tried, I swear. But nothing was working, and when our medic reached us, he tried, too. Nothing worked. So finally I just held him. Nobody wants to die alone.”

  She couldn’t stop the sob that ripped its way out of her, or the tears that began to pour. Liam seemed to shake himself, then turned and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’m so sorry, Sharon.”

  “I’m sorry for you,” she said between sobs. “Sorry you had to endure that. I’m glad you were
there for him, though.”

  “I was. I swear I was.”

  She absolutely believed him. But when she stacked his loss against hers, they both looked pretty much the same: huge, enormous. Enough to steal the light and warmth from the day.

  “Then don’t apologize to me,” she gasped. “Please. I’m so glad he wasn’t alone, I can’t tell you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and thought, really thought, about his losses. Not only his brain injury, but the loss of his old life, and his best friend and God knew how many other friends. He had suffered too much. More than anyone should have to.

  Yet he was still here and she thanked God for it. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, then hiccuped. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He was strong in ways she hoped she never had to learn to be strong. She wished he could see it.

  Leaning back a little within the circle of his arms, she reached up and cupped his face. His eyes, which had been closed, opened at that, and in those light green orbs she saw a measure of the anguish that tormented him.

  “You’re a good and strong man,” she said firmly. “I am so glad you’re here with me.”

  He shook his head a little, as if denying it. She wondered if anyone or anything would ever convince him that he wasn’t broken in the ways that mattered.

  And she might never know. Chet’s death had just thrust itself between them again. She could only wonder if he was feeling guilty for their lovemaking, feeling he had betrayed Chet. She didn’t know how to bring it up.

  What she did know was that she didn’t feel that way at all. A little while ago, her heart had been singing with happiness. Every human was entitled to happiness.

  “Come inside,” she begged. “Let’s make coffee and something to eat. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If not, we’ll just be together.”

  He looked past her. “I was going to start painting.”

  Withdrawal. She felt it and her heart squeezed. “It’s too late in the day. The light is awful now. Please, come inside with me.”

  The last of the stiffness slowly seeped out of him. Finally, he reached up to cover one of her hands with his. “Okay,” he said.

  But she felt he had gone to a planet a billion miles away.

  Inside she started a fresh pot of coffee, then pulled some cold cuts from the fridge and began to make ham sandwiches. Somehow, she thought, they had to edge back from this precipice. She felt as if everything were hanging in the balance of whatever might come next.

  “Lettuce?” she asked. “Mayo? Mustard?”

  “Whatever.”

  Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that. A feeling of desperation began to grow in her. Even if they had no future, she still wasn’t ready to lose him. No way. Friends for life would be better by far than Liam picking up his backpack and walking away for good.

  She put the sandwiches on the table. Then an impulse came to her. Picking up the phone, she dialed Ransom Laird. “Ransom? I’m looking for a goat or two to try my hand. Dr. Windwalker said you were the man...Yes. Okay, tomorrow morning. Thanks.”

  Then she sat at the table and waited for a response. A few more minutes passed, then Liam picked up his sandwich and took a large bite.

  “I go to these places sometimes,” he offered finally. “They’re not pretty.”

  “The war?”

  “The wars. Yeah. It’s usually in nightmares, which is better than having it happen while I’m awake.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. But there it is. I just have to deal.”

  Ignoring her own sandwich, she tried to think of one useful thing to say. She couldn’t.

  “Sorry if I scared you.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t scare me. I was worried about you. That’s very different.”

  He didn’t reply. She got up and poured the coffee for them. She had a feeling it was going to be another long night.

  Then he seemed to shake himself. “You decided about the goats?”

  “Yes. And I’d like you to be here because I may need your help.”

  Then he said something that made her feel worlds better. “I wasn’t planning on being anywhere else.”

  “You’re sure? Because a little while ago I got the feeling you were going to take off.”

  “I thought about it.” No explanations, no apology. Statement of fact.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “You can either run or you can stand your ground. It’s time to stand my ground. If you can stand me.”

  “I’m horrified that you’d even ask.” Not after what they had shared. But then he’d dreamed of Chet. Maybe she wasn’t good for him.

  She gnawed her lip, then lifted her sandwich, figuring she’d do herself more good by gnawing on some ham and bread.

  “Maybe,” she said eventually, “being with me isn’t good for you.”

  “Don’t even say that!” Finally some animation in his face. “Don’t think it. No, I’ve got some messes of my own to deal with, and they don’t have anything to do with you.”

  “I brought back memories of Chet.”

  “I never forget Chet, probably any more than you do. No, that wasn’t anything new. He was my brother. I mean that. More than a friend. I loved him, Sharon. The way I’d have loved a brother. Different from what you felt, but just as strong.”

  “Yes.” She waited, then took another bite. He resumed eating, punctuating it with sips of coffee. She wondered where this was going, or if it was going anywhere at all.

  But at least he didn’t seem so withdrawn.

  He finished both his sandwiches then went to get the coffeepot and refill their mugs. She still hadn’t made it through half of hers.

  “Sorry I upset you,” he said. “I’ll probably do that from time to time.”

  “I can live with it.”

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  She wondered what he meant by that. We’ll see. So leaving was still on his list. Either that or he believed she would tire of him.

  It occurred to her that she owed herself and him some very serious thinking. No more back-and-forthing, but a decision. Did she want Liam around long-term? Even as just a friend? Could she deal with this?

  Although dealing didn’t seem to be her problem. Sometimes she got upset when he disappeared to manage his frustration and anger. Sometimes she just let it go. And sometimes she just felt lonely. She could handle that. His deficits? She probably didn’t know all of them yet, but from what she had seen they wouldn’t exactly make huge ripples around here, especially as he grew less frustrated.

  The way he sometimes just clammed up? But he was doing less of that. He’d just told her about Chet, which must have been painful for him, especially since he knew it would pain her. If there was one thing she’d learned about Liam, for all he’d been a soldier, in many ways he was a gentle soul. Chet had had harder edges when he came home, maybe because he really never had a lot of time to wind down before he had to start winding up again. It wasn’t that he’d been cruel. By no means. But there was a gentleness to Liam at times that surprised her.

  But mostly she had to be sure, because the last thing on Earth she wanted to do was wound Liam again. She had to know her own mind, even though the possibility would always remain that he would one day walk away.

  She had to know what she wanted, what her limits were, and then make them clear so that he knew where she stood. So he could make a decision himself about whether he needed to move on.

  God, she hated the thought of him leaving, but if that was what would be best for one or both of them, then she was going to have to face up to it.

  And it was going to be difficult to be so hardheaded when her emotions were running so strongly. But she had to do it.

  “So you’ve decided to do that goat thing?” he asked again as they were cleaning up, as if he felt the need to break the silence and had seized the first thing he thought of.

  “I’m just talking to Ranso
m about it. That okay with you?”

  “I don’t have a right to say anything about it.”

  She turned to face him, sponge in hand. “You have a right. You’re going to be helping me. You’ve never said much about what you think about it.”

  “I like the idea.” He hesitated. “Sharon, think about it, please. If I stay, I’m going to be a hanger-on, basically. I don’t think I could hold a job, at least not yet. I get a disability check and have plenty of savings, and I could help out that way, but do you really want a dependent?”

  The question nearly floored her. “Is that how you feel? Am I making you feel that way?”

  He hesitated. “No. I’m just feeling that way.”

  “So how do you count what you’ve been doing around here?”

  “Just helping.”

  “Has it occurred to you that except for your help I’d need to hire someone? As it is, I’d have to provide room and board plus pay to anyone else. Heck, I wouldn’t want a stranger living in this house with me, so I’d have to pay a whole lot for a handyman. In fact, I ought to be paying you something.”

  He shook his head. She dropped the sponge and stared at him, giving him space to react to what she had said.

  “It wouldn’t be right,” he said finally, “for me to continue taking from you. You can’t possibly be making that much as a teacher. You’re probably mostly scraping by with a place like this. I need to contribute if I’m going to stay.”

  “You are contributing.”

  His expression became slightly mulish, a stubbornness she hadn’t seen in him before. “Not enough. Not by my standards.”

  At first she struggled with a sense of offense, because he felt she needed more from him. As if. Did he really think that barn had gotten into that shape because she could paint and clean it by herself? Or the house?

  But then she realized something more essential about him. This was a matter of his pride. If he was going to stay, then he wanted to feel like a partner, not a hired hand, not a guy working for room and board who sometimes needed to be guided through things and taught to read. He needed this for his sense of self-worth.

  But she resisted, anyway. It didn’t seem right to her. He was doing so much to fix up the place, and fixing up this place, as she’d learned, was darn near a full-time job. Catching up was going to take even more time. She needed his help, not his money.