by Lori Foster
But for now, while her thoughts might be muddled, she still knew she didn’t want to go anywhere with Hamilton. She needed solace, to cry in private, to deal with her grief where no one could see or judge her.
She needed to find her backbone, to dredge up her independence. “My class…”
“I took care of it.”
She stared up at him, and even though he still wore the aviator glasses, she felt snared by his gaze.
Hamilton lifted a hand as if to remove them, and Liv caught his wrist. Sunshine flooded the car windows, making her squint. But Hamilton’s eyes were especially sensitive after so much time flying high above the pollution, being overexposed to the sun. He needed the glasses, and she knew it.
Diverted, his hand again settled against her cheek, his thumb stroking over her jaw. “You’re not alone, Liv.”
A near hysterical sob threatened to break free. Of course she was alone, just as she’d always been.
Shamefully, she felt mired in self-pity—and she hated that Hamilton always knew her most private thoughts. Her mother had died when she was young, and the military had owned her father. His death was a crushing weight on her heart, but she doubted she could miss him any more in death than she had in day-to-day life.
Looking out the window in an effort to compose herself, Liv whispered, “You’re wrong, Ham. I’ve always been alone.”
Her statement bothered him, and he tightened his hold. “Don’t do that, damn it. Don’t buck up like a good little soldier. You don’t have to, not with me.”
Liv didn’t reply. If she spoke, the tears would come and she’d be even more humiliated.
But her lack of reply didn’t deter Ham. “Listen to me, Liv. I’m here and I’m staying.” Before her hopes could fully surface, he burst her bubble. “I have two weeks’ leave.”
As if two weeks could matter in the scheme of things. Deep inside herself, pain twisted and prodded. Memories raced through her mind, memories of past years, of lost opportunities.
When he pulled her toward him, Liv rested her forehead against his chest. Typical for a man to think he could handle anything in two weeks. In so many ways, Hamilton was like her father—confident, capable, a man other men looked up to.
A man forever lost to her because the air force was his life.
Hamilton tipped up her chin. “I know that look, Liv. I know what you’re thinking.” His hand opened, his fingers curling around her nape. “I’ll be here with you, to help with the arrangements, to talk to, to…be with. If you need or want anything, if there’s anything I can do, you only have to tell me.”
Liv closed her eyes, unable to bear Hamilton’s close scrutiny. Want anything? She’d wanted him, but she couldn’t bear the constant moving or the constant worry she associated with the air force. She’d seen so many military marriages break up. Good people on both sides, just unable to handle the pressures of separation. Often the wives had no family close by for support. And she knew firsthand what a tough way it was to bring up kids.
She wanted constancy and close friends and a husband who came home every day. She wanted kids who felt secure, who wouldn’t have to go through what she had.
So she’d resigned herself to life without him.
Just as she’d resigned herself to life without a father. As a colonel with the Office of Special Investigation, Air Force Intelligence had taken Weston to some pretty spooky places over the years, and kept him away from her for long periods of time. Too long, and too many times. Liv couldn’t go through that again.
Already Hamilton had been in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq. He’d even flown in Desert Storm as a newly trained pilot in a B-52. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss, and where Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Wulf was concerned, the less she knew about his duties, the dangers he faced and the volatile situations he willingly put himself in, the better.
Once long ago, she’d been wildly in love with him, hopeful of a future, her dreams filled with the possibility of a tidy house in the suburbs and all the trimmings—kids, pets, rosebushes and a picket fence. They’d both been military brats, and even though Hamilton was nine years older, she’d been closer to him than to anyone else in her life.
After her mother’s death, Hamilton was the one she’d turned to. When her father had missed her birthday, a gift had always arrived from Hamilton. And when a boy had broken her heart, Hamilton had been there, convincing her that she was better off without him.
When she’d turned twenty-one, he’d kissed her for the first time…and kept on kissing her. She’d had boyfriends and a few serious flirtations, but kissing Hamilton had proven a revelation. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like a woman.
Liv had asked him to make love to her then, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d just driven her crazy with desire, showing her how it could be between them without ever fulfilling the promise. For years, they’d played that ridiculous game, until at twenty-seven, Liv had made it clear what she wanted—and what she didn’t.
A military life fell in the “didn’t want” category, and that had effectively ruled out a relationship with Hamilton. Not that he’d given up on her. Stubborn to the core, he insisted on thinking he could have it all without consideration of her wishes. He made no bones about his feelings—he still kissed her on the rare occasions when Liv softened enough to let him, and whenever duty kept him from her, he stayed in touch with correspondence, cards and phone calls.
It might have been enough, except that year after year had passed, promotion after promotion—and still he’d stayed in the air force. Her heart broke each and every time.
Now at thirty-seven, as a lieutenant colonel, a B-2 stealth-bomber pilot, and second in command of a B-2 bomb squadron, Hamilton was career air force through and through, and Liv couldn’t seduce him away from his first love: flying.
The reality crushed her and made her more determined to live her life without him.
With a sigh, Liv pushed herself upright, away from Hamilton’s warmth and the lure of his comfort. She was alone, and she had to deal with her father’s death without allowing Hamilton to get too close.
Hamilton sighed, too, the sound ragged with exasperation, but he said nothing. He was the most contained, enigmatic person she knew—which made him perfect for the military, but difficult to understand in a relationship.
Liv’s father had admired Hamilton’s cool regard, while forever accusing her of being too emotional. And she couldn’t deny it. She was passionate about her work, determined with her students, and despite everything, she’d loved her father so much that now she felt physically wounded.
She wanted to be alone, but at the same time, she wanted Hamilton to stay close and keep on holding her. Forever.
The drive to his motel took them within minutes of her home, which was a ten-minute drive from Denton Elementary. She could travel the entire length of the town in less than a half hour. But right outside of town, better hotels existed.
She should have guessed that Hamilton would be staying close by in the shabby lodging rather than putting any distance between them. His organizational skills had served him well in the military. But they would not color her life.
“I want to go home, Ham.”
He looked at her, his eyes shielded by the reflective sunglasses, his expression impossible to read. “Not yet. We have some talking to do first.”
Shaking from the inside out, Liv whispered, “I don’t want—”
But he’d already opened his door and stepped out. Seconds later, he strode to her side of the car and with both Major Tyne and Captain Nolan in attendance, Liv refused to make a scene.
Hamilton opened her door and helped her out. He didn’t move away from her or give her any space. With his arm around her waist keeping her pressed to his side, Liv felt his strength and his determination.
Major Tyne glanced at her, then asked, “Should we accompany you?”
Why? Liv wondered. Did they expect hysterics from her? Should she fall apart ov
er a father who hadn’t cared, a father who’d willingly walked away from her time and time again? A father who…who…
Damn it, the tears fell, taking her by surprise, closing her throat and making her chin tremble. She sniffled, struggling to stifle the emotional display, knowing it would have disgusted her father.
But she couldn’t. And even while it humiliated her, she felt helpless to pull herself together.
Quietly, Hamilton said, “That’s not necessary,” while gathering Liv close. Warmth and security surrounded her, and pushed her over the edge. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Damn him, why did her father have to die before they could reconcile? Why hadn’t he come to see her just once?
Why hadn’t she gone to see him?
With her face tucked against Ham’s chest, she heard his quiet conversation with the others. He told them to go ahead and get settled in their rooms.
Captain Nolan put a hand to Ham’s shoulder. “If you need me, Howler, give a yell.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he replied. Once the two officers had gone inside, Ham’s mouth touched her ear, and he whispered, “I am so sorry, Liv.”
She shook her head. He had nothing to be sorry about. Ham, like her father, had gone with his heart. They were both warriors through and through, dedicated to their country, ready, willing and able to defend and protect.
Ham tipped her back and mopped at her face with a snowy-white hanky. “Look at you. You’ve ruined your makeup,” he said with a small sad smile. Then his forehead touched hers. “God, Liv, please don’t. Seeing you cry just about kills me.”
He wasn’t judging her? Her father would have lectured, would have told her to be strong and dignified. To be brave and suck it up.
Ham just cuddled her.
Feeling like a fool, Liv half laughed while taking the hanky and blowing her nose. “So I’m capable of doing what weapons can’t, huh? Wow, I feel powerful.”
He tugged off his sunglasses, his expression far too serious. “You have no idea how powerful you are when it comes to me.”
While she reeled from that cryptic comment, he started them on their way again, across the blacktop lot and toward the brick building.
Tears continued to track down her cheeks. Liv mopped them away and considered what Hamilton might have meant. Surely if she had any real power over him, he’d have been happy to settle with her.
With his long stride shortened to accommodate her, Hamilton glanced at her and frowned. “I’m sorry about the motel. Denton doesn’t have much in the way of luxury.”
Taking that as an insult to her home, Liv lifted her chin. “It has everything I need and everything I want. It’s small and quiet and everyone knows everyone.” And then, to ease up on him a little, she said, “It’s a place to put down roots. A place to raise a family.”
Hamilton paused in the process of opening the glass lobby doors, but only for a moment. His arm went around her waist again and he ushered her down the worn carpeted hallway to the door of his room. The motel was old enough that they still used keys instead of key cards. Hamilton jiggled the lock until the key clicked into place, then held the door open for her to enter.
He must have come straight to the school, Liv thought, noting his unpacked bags and the stuffiness of the air. Automatically she walked to the window to open it, letting in the fresh spring breezes.
Hamilton tossed his hat and sunglasses onto the bureau, leaned back against it and watched her with an intensity that should have been reserved for enemy captives.
Feeling conspicuous, Liv seated herself on the edge of the full-size bed. “Now what?”
Seconds ticked by before he answered, as if he had to give his response serious thought. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.” Using the hanky, she tried to remove what she could of her ruined mascara. Crying had always been useless, a lesson she’d learned long ago.
Ham’s gaze moved over her, from her wind-tossed hair to her sensible teacher-type pumps. Disregarding her words, he asked, “You haven’t changed that much, Liv. I know getting upset makes you hungry.”
“Everything makes me hungry.” Luckily, she had a fast metabolism that kept her from being more than pleasingly plump. “But I can eat at home. Alone.”
“You need to talk.”
Pushing both hands through her hair, Liv decided to face his arrogance head-on. “No. I need time to think, and I suppose I have to figure out funeral arrangements—”
“The military will take care of it.”
She knew that. A military funeral would be what her father had wanted, certainly what he deserved. Nodding, Liv said, “I still have to make plans. I can’t do that sitting here and chatting about food and sniveling like a child.”
“Showing that you care isn’t childish.”
She half laughed. “My father would have disagreed with that. I can’t tell you how many times I got compared to soldiers. How many times Dad pointed out the differences between my soft bed and a battlefield, my security and the danger in every war.”
Hamilton stared at her hard. “He was wrong, Liv. You’re one of the strongest women I know.”
The compliment warmed something cold deep inside her, but still she said, “Not strong enough to play second fiddle to the air force.”
The silence swelled, tinged with anger and frustration. Hamilton pushed away from the bureau to stand directly in front of her, every muscle tensed, his eyes blazing. “I’ve missed you, Liv.”
Oh, God, don’t do this, don’t do this….
Catching her arms, he pulled her upright and against his chest. “I’m sorry that I’m here under such awful circumstances. God knows I wish you didn’t have to go through this. But it happened and we can’t change that.”
She started to turn her face away, and he whispered, almost warned, “Don’t shut me out, baby. Not now. I need to help.”
Something in his tone penetrated her sorrow. In so many ways, Hamilton had been closer to her father than she had. They’d had so much more in common, he had to be grief-stricken, too. How could she selfishly add to his hurt?
Fingers splayed against his shoulders, she conceded. “All right.”
His hands loosened on her arms, became caressing. He shook off the vulnerability as if it had never been there, adopting instead the confidence and arrogance that better suited him. “I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements. All you need to do is tell me where you want him buried, and what you want posted in the local paper.”
Her lips began to tremble again. From hurt. From long-buried hope. “I’d like him buried here with my mother.” The sad truths of her life intruded. “I know it’s not officially my home.” How could it be, when her entire life had been spent moving from place to place?
Rather than question her decision, Ham said only, “I think that’d be best.”
“Thank you.” Again, she felt the emptiness, the loneliness compounded by her most recent loss. Her words sounded sad and shaken to her own ears. “All my mother’s relatives are now gone, but I still remember the stories she told of walking to the bakery, riding her bike to the same school where I now teach. I know the playground and the movie theater and…” A deep breath helped to steady her voice. “It’s the closest thing I have to roots. Mother is buried here, and so I want Daddy here, too.”
Hamilton pressed a kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I figured.” His gaze searching, concerned, he said, “The body will be here tomorrow. I think it might be possible to have the funeral on Friday. Is that okay with you?”
So soon. Again, her heart clenched, the pain close to crippling. Her daddy was really gone. Between his lack of interest and her own stubbornness, so much time had been wasted. She could have gone to see him, whether he wanted her there or not. She could have insisted he come to her college graduation, or…
This time Hamilton’s kiss landed on her lips. A light, barely there kiss, but it obliterated her distressing thoughts, overcoming them with pure sensation.
“Don’t do that, Liv,” he murmured, his mouth still touching hers. His hands tangled in her hair, angling her face up to his. “Don’t beat yourself up with regrets. Nothing was ever your fault.”
She’d believed that—until now. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I should have—”
“No, baby. He should have.” Hamilton kissed her again, harder this time, a kiss of resolve and heartache, a kiss that nudged at the grief and curled her toes. “Weston made a damn fine colonel, one of the best. He was brilliant and strong, a natural-born leader.” Hamilton swallowed and his jaw worked. “He was an asset to our country, but we both know he could have been a more attentive father.”
“He gave everything he had to the military.”
Trying to force her to his will, Hamilton held her gaze. “But plenty of guys balance it, their careers, their families. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, all or nothing.”
“For me it does.”
Her statement fell like a sledgehammer, and suddenly new emotion darkened Hamilton’s eyes. “This is hard for you. That’s why I want to help get you through it. I don’t want you worrying about it. It hurts me to see you hurt.”
Liv caught her breath—and then his mouth was on hers, devouring, seducing, coaxing. No simple kiss, this. He consumed her, devastating her emotionally and physically. His taste stirred her, his dark, distinctive scent filled her head.
He teased with his tongue, then sank in to make love to her mouth. Before Liv even realized it, she had her hands on his neck, feeling the muscles there, his short-cropped hair, his heat. Time apart, hurt feelings and resentment all melted away. This was familiar. Necessary. Sadness morphed into desperate aching need.
With a groan, Hamilton slipped one arm around her waist, angling her in close to the hardness of his body. There’d only been a handful of times that he’d ever held her like this, and not at all since she’d become determined to get by without him. Not once, not ever, had she forgotten how wonderful it felt to be in Hamilton’s arms.
His strong steady heartbeat reverberated against her breast. His heat wrapped around her, making her light-headed and too warm. Overwhelmed by her own powerful response, she tried to retreat, but he tangled his fingers in her hair with his free hand and held her head still while his mouth ate at hers with voracious hunger.
