The Valkyrie's Guardian
Page 30
Cassie closed her eyes in pleasure at the sound of his voice. Always it felt like a gift, that sexy tenor rumble that made her shiver in anticipation. He filled the doorway, and her heart kicked then settled into rhythm with his. Heat flared between them, charging the air with an erotic thrumming that had only grown stronger with time.
He wore his ceremonial uniform, which made his shoulders look impossibly huge, and the contrast of the starched white fabric made the light green facets in his eyes shine.
The kids were eager, shouting, “Dad! Hey, Dad! Guess what, Dad!”
Wow, Jack. Dress whites?
Maggie sat in the crook of his arm, flipping over a row of medals pinned to his chest. Will squirmed in his other arm, tugging on the gold bars atop his shoulders. Max yanked on his trousers, and Jack tossed the squealing baby and sat him on his shoulders. He looked quite a sight, carrying his soldier pack, two duffels, and three children talking a mile a minute.
Um, yeah. He shrugged. We had a thing at the base.
I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.
How ’bout a man in no uniform? One corner of his mouth pulled into a smile, making those debonair lines in his cheeks that always gave her stomach butterflies.
Even better, baby.
Maggie shot Jack a suspicious look and realized her parents were communicating privately. She tried to hack in, but Jack blocked her amateur signal, letting her bounce off his mindshield.
Mind your manners, Cassie chided. Maggie gave a sheepish smile that never failed to charm her father. Jack pecked a kiss to her temple.
“Hey, happy birthday, Cass.” He leaned to kiss her, slow and deep until the kids complained about being squished between them.
“Thanks for making it back in time.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have a present for you.” He dropped his luggage and Godzilla-walked with the kids to the living room sofa. He unbuttoned the top of his uniform and draped the jacket over a chair, then got down on all fours and wrestled the kids, letting them climb all over him.
Maggie’s bronze hair raised in a fledgling thrum of static as her temper flared, and she snarled like a kitten, angry at being toppled over by Will. Jack scolded her, Be nice, lass. Cool down. He tickled her, making her war with her pouty expression. Thankfully, Maggie was too young to wield lightning — little spitfire — but if it proved to be purple, then the vision in Cassie’s dreams of a red-headed valkyrie had been true. Jack folded the pouty little brat in a tight hug and squeezed until Maggie shouted, “I’m happy! Okay, I’m happy now!”
Cassie sat on the sofa with a glass of water, content to just have him home. She should have known better. He snatched the glass away and scooped her up by the waist. “Dogpile on Mom!” he called, and three adorable war cries sounded, followed by the shockingly rough impact of her little berserker children. Two berserkers and one valkyrie, to be precise. She howled as a knobby little knee knocked her in the ribs, it really hurt.
“Aw, cute little bugger, isn’t he?”
Cute as a blunt-force trauma.
Jack gathered Will in his arms, restraining the flurry of beefy toddler-sized limbs. “Easy, Will. Be gentle.” He kissed the dark head and set the boy on his feet. “Why don’t you bring in my pack? I have a surprise for you.”
Will dashed back through the kitchen. Maggie caught up and shoved him, vying for first in a race that never ended between them. Jack gave a sentimental cluck as Will trudged back in with the pack hefted over his shoulder, the little boy trying to carry it the same way he’d seen his father do. It was quadruple his size and weighed over 140 pounds, stuffed with ammo and gear. Maggie came behind towing the duffels, not to be outdone.
The kids bounced, giddy with anticipation while Jack unhooked the clips on his pack. He produced bundles of wooden dowels, two rolls of duct tape, and a bolt of cheesecloth sheeting. The kids cheered and clambered to get their hands on the booty.
Oh Jack, baby. You shouldn’t have.
Only the best for your birthday. He flashed her a hungry kaleidoscope-green stare as he stood. He took her hand and swooped her into his arms.
This is very romantic. I’m impressed.
The kids were already busy inventing a contraption with the materials Jack brought them. Last time they’d made a castle, and it sounded like this time it would be an aircraft carrier, if Will got his way. That gave her at least an hour alone with Jack, maybe an hour and a half.
He paused to check the locks and punch in the code on the alarm console. I got dinged on the shoulder yesterday. Will you patch it up? Then I thought maybe we could soak in the bathtub and I’ll rub your feet.
Ooh, so you want to play doctor. Nice.
Yeah, and then I’ll show you your birthday present. He checked over his shoulder to be certain the kids were engrossed in their project, then stepped into the bedroom and closed the door with his foot.
About the Author
Moriah Densley sees nothing odd at all about keeping both a violin case and a range bag stuffed with pistols in the back seat of her car. They hold up the stack of books in the middle, of course. She enjoys writing about Victorians, assassins, and geeks.
Her muses are summoned by the smell of chocolate, usually at odd hours of the night. By day her alter ego is your friendly neighborhood music teacher. Moriah lives in Las Vegas with her husband and four children.
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