Hot in Here

by Lori Foster

  “I have a buddy who lives down that way. We were in college together at the Citadel and completed the ROTC program the same year.”

  Which no doubt made them lifelong brothers. “So you just called him up…?”

  “That’s one of the calls I made while you were showering. He agreed to send the food here in a taxi.” And with deeper meaning, Ham added, “The military is one big family, Liv, always willing to help out when they can.”

  Unwilling to acknowledge the truth of that, Liv studiously ignored his statement. “It’s so much trouble for soup.”

  “Not just soup. We’ll be sharing a Schman-kerlplatte, too.”

  The mention of smoked pork chops, roasted chicken and fried cabbage had her mouth watering. “Okay, so maybe I can take time to eat after all.”

  His smile settled into a frown. “It won’t be too much for your stomach, will it? Maybe I should have considered something lighter and blander.”

  “It’s perfect.” And so thoughtful—so typical of Ham. “Thank you.”

  Again, he touched her hair, tunneling his fingers in toward her scalp. For the longest time he said nothing, then with a sigh, he whispered, “Liv,” while bending down to take her mouth.

  She prepared herself for another explosive kiss, but instead, he kept the touch of his mouth sweet and gentle, exploring, comforting. Before she knew it, he had her cuddled up against his chest, his strong arms around her, and Liv wanted to stay there forever.

  Keeping her close, he said, “I made another call, too.”

  His tone alarmed her. She tried to press back, but he wouldn’t let her. “What did you do?”

  “I contacted the funeral home. I found there’s a real advantage to being in a small town. Everyone can make the time, and make things work, when they know you and care about you. And everyone here cares about you very much.”

  A little stunned, Liv said only, “You contacted Martin….”

  “He sends his condolences, and gave us an appointment for tomorrow morning. He confirmed that Weston can be buried Friday afternoon. If we call within the next hour, they can still get the announcement in the obituaries. I’d have done that, too, but I thought you might have something particular you wanted to say.”

  For some reason, his autocratic behavior struck Liv as humorous. He’d be here two weeks, so that didn’t factor into his rush.

  “With the funeral behind you,” Ham said, as if he’d read her thoughts, “you can put the grief behind you, too. Then you can start planning for the future.”

  A future that included him? Is that what he wanted?

  Is that what she wanted? She just didn’t know, but she did know that Hamilton held himself tense, awaiting her reaction. “You expect me to be angry.”

  “Well…yeah. I know it was presumptuous of me to sort of take over. But I’m only trying to make things easier on you.”

  She gave him a fierce hug. “And I appreciate it. We can decide on the announcement together, if that’s okay with you.”

  Ham drew back, his surprise evident, and then he kissed her hard. “We’ll get through this, Liv.” His mouth still touched hers, his breath warm and fast. “Together.”

  That sounded nice. If only it could always be that way. But the very nature of military service guaranteed that Ham wouldn’t always be there—no matter what he promised.

  Did she dare to settle for less, to compromise her own convictions…?

  More thunder rumbled, closer this time, prompting Liv to hurry. After girding herself, she confessed, “Could we work on the announcement now?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not that I mean to rush, but…my roof needs work.”

  He shrugged, confused as to what one had to do with the other. “I noticed.”

  “You did?” He’d been so openly admiring, she hadn’t realized. “The roof’s not that old, but it did get hit with some storm damage. A few of the shingles are loose or missing. There are replacement shingles in the garage, but I haven’t had time to get to it yet.”

  “I told you I’d been looking at houses lately, remember? I’ve seen more than a few that needed some repairs. As long as it’s nothing structural, who cares?”

  Liv wanted to ask him why he’d been looking at houses if he had no intention of leaving the military. An officer’s mobile lifestyle made putting down roots impossible. But before she could find the right words, he added, “That storm is coming in fast. I gather the roof leaks?”

  Back in the moment, Liv nodded. “In more than a few places. Luckily, there’s no furniture upstairs, and not much in the way of carpet. But I don’t want to see the hardwood floors get drenched either, so I need to put some buckets down to catch the worst of it.”

  Ham pressed another kiss to her mouth, then one to her forehead. His casual touches kept her off balance while at the same time providing the human touch she needed in the face of her loss.

  “I’ll help.” He drew her toward the kitchen. “But first…do you have a pen and paper anywhere?”

  It took them over twenty minutes to get together the facts that summed up her father’s life. Hamilton called the funeral home to give the information, and Martin assured him he’d be able to get it to the paper on time.

  Ham made everything so much easier. With him by her side, she couldn’t imagine dealing with her father’s death alone.

  After he hung up the phone, Hamilton asked, “Are the buckets in the garage?”

  “Yes. I’ll show you.” Everywhere they went, Jack followed. The second they stepped outside to the narrow path connecting her house to her detached garage, the dark sky closed in around them, thick with moisture and static with electricity.

  Ham lifted the heavy, warped wooden door with an ease that brought home the contrasts in their physiques. Liv had a replacement garage door on her list of things needed for the house, but like the missing shingles, she hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

  The dark, dank interior of the concrete-block building smelled musty and Jack, the big baby, pressed into her side. “On the shelf over the lawn mower.”

  Ham grabbed up three buckets. “Are these enough?”

  Half-embarrassed, Liv reached past him and took up two more. “Unfortunately, no.”

  Ham frowned a little in thought, then urged her back out of the garage. The wind caught his words, rushing them past her as he brought the door back down to close it securely. “If the rain holds off, I’ll check out the roof. Maybe I can patch it so the leaks don’t damage your ceilings too much.”

  Unlike her father, who had hated repair work, Ham offered with no hesitation. Such a simple thing; shoot, most men were happiest with a tool in hand. But it was more than that now. She couldn’t analyze Ham or the way he made her feel, not now with her emotions so close to the surface. Her independent nature rebelled, but more than anything, she wanted to turn herself over to Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Wulf’s tender care.

  Dangerous. Very, very dangerous—most especially to her heart.

  They reentered the kitchen just as the rain came in a deluge, washing over the windows and filling the house with noise. Jack whined and tucked himself closer to her legs, nearly causing her to stumble.

  “I guess I won’t be patching the roof today.”

  Liv wanted to comfort Jack, but leaks were a major priority. She put a hand to the dog’s neck and started for the hallway. “Don’t worry about it. I was going to hire someone next week, anyway.”

  “Fibber.”

  Affronted, Liv jerked around at the base of the stairs—and saw the gleam in Ham’s eyes. He always saw right through her.

  She scowled at him.

  He smiled crookedly and shook his head. “You can’t lie to me, Liv.”

  “All right,” she grouched, stomping up the steps to avoid his astute gaze. “It’s a fib. Big deal.”

  “Why tell it in the first place?”

  “Because I don’t want to be indebted to you.” The second the wo
rds left her mouth, she felt the change in the air.

  “Don’t push it, Liv.” At the top of the stairs, he caught her elbow and drew her around to face him. Jack looked between the two of them, alert to the new tension in the air, wary. “There’s something between us. It’s been there for years.” His voice lowered, his expression hard. “It will always be there.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” To make his point, he backed her up to the wall, looming, imposing. He still held the buckets in his hands, so he used his chest, pressing in on her, keeping her immobile. His mouth grazed her throat, up the side of her neck to her ear, where his tongue gently explored.

  “Ham…” Her protest came out a breathless plea.

  “Anything you need, Liv,” he whispered, “anything you want, you can always get from me.”

  Her heartbeat drummed and her mouth went dry. Against the hard muscled wall of his broad chest, her nipples drew tight. Her stomach bottomed out when his thigh pressed against her belly….

  And he stepped away, not far, but enough that their bodies no longer touched. “This is a tough time, honey, I know that. Your world has just been turned upside down. And for that reason, as much as any other, I won’t let you keep your distance.”

  Speechless, Liv stared up at him. With every fiber of her being, she wanted him. It didn’t matter that she knew firsthand how much heartache resulted from loving an officer. She well remembered her mother’s tears and prayers when her father was away. It had been awful then. It’d be ten times more so with Ham.

  On the ridiculous hope that by not seeing him, she could distance herself a little from his emotional pull, her eyes sank closed. She sucked in several deep breaths to steady herself, to shore up her wavering resolve.

  When she opened her eyes again, Hamilton was halfway down the hallway. As he sauntered away, apparently unaware of her inner turmoil, she stared at the long line of his back, the muscled length of his thighs. His too-tight tush.

  Emotionally she wanted him.

  Physically she craved him.

  Mentally, she knew he could break her heart for good. But the yearning swelled inside her, almost unbearable.

  Maybe, just maybe if she indulged her needs—all her needs—when he left again, it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d have memories to comfort her through the lonely years, memories to cling to if, God forbid, he never returned.

  And maybe, if the worst happened, it’d also be a balm to Hamilton in his last moments. He’d always been there for her. He was here for her now. He’d always given to her, and now, she had the opportunity to give back.

  The excuses sounded lame even to her, but deep down, she’d known what would eventually happen. And right now, she was just plain too weak to fight his appeal.

  *

  HAMILTON FELT HER STARE, her interest. Little by little, he was wearing her down. Soon, with any luck and continued patience, she’d admit to her true feelings. She’d tell him she loved him—and then he could tell her about their future, a future of compromise. A future he’d designed just for her.

  A future that he felt sure would keep her content.

  He glanced into the first small room, devoid of furniture but with a growing stain on the ceiling and a puddle forming on the floor. “I’ve got this one,” he called back to her, aware of her standing immobile right where he’d left her.

  Shaken.

  Aroused.

  When he spoke, his voice was even, his tone level, but his calm was deceptive. The feel of her warmed skin, her stiffened nipples and fast breath had fired him in return. He had an erection that almost hurt, from months of celibacy and years of wanting. His muscles were stiff, his abdomen rigid with restraint.

  Walking away hadn’t been easy, but damn it, he had his pride, too, along with his own share of fears.

  Even as a child, Liv had been bright and observant, so she knew Weston was the closest thing to a father he’d ever had. His own parents hadn’t factored heavily into his life, more prone to ignoring him than caring for him. If it hadn’t been for Weston and the air force, Hamilton knew he would have been alone in the world, and probably more in trouble than out of it.

  He loved Liv, more than anything life could offer, but the air force had become a vital part of him, harnessing the wildness and refining his leadership instincts. It gave him a purpose that meshed with the most intrinsic part of his personality. And flying fed his soul. It was as simple as that.

  If Liv refused to see it… He shook his head, unable to abide the idea of leaving himself open to cold rejection. He knew, deep down inside, that she cared for him, too. But with her refusal to admit it, how could he possibly throw his heart at her feet? How did he know if she loved him enough?

  He needed her to confide in him. He needed her trust. And then he could trust her in return.

  After placing three buckets beneath drips that left large, dark wet spots on her ceiling, he reentered the hall. Liv was in the room across from him, another small bedroom with no furnishings.

  Seeing her on her knees, mopping up a spill before placing the bucket beneath it, brought out all his protective instincts. Ham rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve his tension. “Liv?”

  She went still, then glanced up. Eyes wide and watchful, and full of some indefinable emotion, she waited.

  “It occurs to me,” Ham said, “that you only have one bedroom.”

  Slowly she came to her feet. A look of expectancy replaced the wariness in her expression. “Yes.”

  Not yet, Ham cautioned himself. If she wanted him physically, it’d help to ease her into an emotional commitment. “I can camp out on the couch.”

  She said nothing to that.

  “But is it all right if I store my stuff in this room? I don’t want to leave it cluttering your foyer.”

  “All right.”

  So enigmatic. Ham crossed his arms over his chest. “You sleep downstairs?”

  “In the only furnished bedroom, yes.”

  Close to the couch. But close enough?

  She said abruptly, “Jack is spooked.” Moving past Ham, she led the dog back toward the stairs. “When I sit with him, he feels better.”

  But rather than follow her, Jack paused at Ham’s side and whined.

  “Come on, Jack,” Liv said, but still the dog hesitated. Ears back, head low, he whined again.

  At least the dog was on his side, Ham decided. “I guess he wants us all together.”

  Liv opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Hiding his smile, Ham patted the dog. “Let’s go, boy. The lady is waiting.”

  Jack followed Ham downstairs, then back upstairs again as he stored his things in the spare room. “I should change your name to Shadow,” Ham teased the dog. But when he saw Liv standing at the window, watching the pouring rain, his heart went out to her. She appeared so dejected, so…alone, that he felt guilty having her dog’s attention.

  A loud boom of thunder shook the house, and in a flash, Jack was at her side. Liv’s nurturing nature took over and she spent several minutes calming the dog. Ham absorbed the picture she made, gentle and sweet and patient. He could easily see her with a classroom full of kids, relating, guiding, teaching.

  He could also see her with a baby in her arms—his baby. She would be a phenomenal mother. He imagined the four of them, himself and Liv, Jack and a toddler, settled into the cozy little house in Colorado Springs. She’d be happy there, because he’d make it so.

  He’d only seen the house in Internet ads, but as soon as he’d been approached with the offer to be a permanent professor at the academy, he started weighing the pros and cons.

  God knew he’d miss being squadron commander, but he’d be promoted to colonel. He’d stay on active duty longer, but they’d never have to move away from the Air Force Academy. The two years it’d take for him to get his Ph.D. would be trying, but he’d stay on full pay during that time, and if Liv knew the end result, that they could be the kind of family she wante
d…

  Once he convinced Liv, they could check out the house together. She’d enjoy buying new furniture, or planting flowers.

  The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of their food and releasing Ham from visions of a perfect future. He answered the door while Liv got out dishes and drinks. She knew him well enough that she automatically poured him milk with his dinner.

  Jack curled up beneath the table, determined to stay close but mannered enough not to beg or make a nuisance of himself. The entire setting felt cozy, especially when the lights flickered and then went out. At the dinner hour, it normally wouldn’t have been so dark. But the storm-filled sky, thick with black clouds, lent the sense of midnight.

  Liv stilled with her glass of iced tea near her mouth.

  “Do you have any candles?”

  She swallowed her bite of fried cabbage and nodded. “In the drawer by the sink. Matches are there, too.”

  Ham located a fat scented candle and set it in the middle of the table. Liv watched him as he lit it. Soft illumination danced across her features, and he felt prompted to say, “Does this remind you of that time in California, when an earthquake took out the electricity?”

  Memories surfaced, and she gave a small smile. “Daddy was off somewhere, but you came over to stay with me until the worst of it was over.”

  Ham remembered that he hadn’t wanted to leave at all, even hours later when things were again calm. But she was young then, and he’d had too much respect for her and her father to ever overstep himself.

  “You denied being scared.” He grinned. “You were what? All of eighteen then—a woman, but still so young. Cute as hell. And so damned independent I thought you were going to throw me out in the middle of the quake just to prove you didn’t need me there.”

  Chagrined, she rubbed away her smile. “I didn’t want you to know how nervous I was. Daddy didn’t like it when I gave in to fears.”

  Reaching across the table, Ham took her hand. “Everyone gets afraid sometimes.”

  “Not you.”

  He half laughed until he realized she was serious. Then he shook his head. “Hell, honey, I live with fear.”