Alex carried the sleeping boy to the shuttle that would take them to their hotel, careful to keep his weight off the bruised ribs. Isabella walked beside him, dragging, laden with stuffed animals, Mickey ears, a giant lollypop—hers, not Hector’s. Even the pert little ponytail she’d flipped around all day was drooping. He reached back for her free hand and found it easily, as he had all day. He shoved aside the longing that accompanied the gesture.
The same longing he saw in her eyes whenever he looked at her.
So easy to crush that hope. Even if he decided to give in, even if he promised when he came back from his next assignment that they would give this a shot, how long would it last? A month? A year? Who would lose interest first? They both might be too stubborn to admit defeat, or they might fight it out, all the while knowing they’d be better off apart.
No. Best to end it tonight, go back with his team tomorrow, back on assignment, away from her. She could find happiness on her own. She didn’t need his protection anymore.
He stepped onto the too-bright shuttle, shielding Hector’s eyes, sitting on one of the hard plastic seats gingerly so he wouldn’t wake the boy. Isabella dropped to the seat beside him and let her head fall to his shoulder.
“Good day,” she murmured.
He squeezed her hand as the shuttle lurched forward. “Yeah.”
“What time do you leave tomorrow?”
“I have to report at five.”
“God, Alex, that’s in seven hours. I won’t be able to move in seven hours.” She tucked her other arm through his and snuggled closer.
“Can’t carry both of you,” he said, smiling down at her.
“Won’t sleep,” she promised drowsily.
The warmth of her, the weight of the boy, all of it felt right. Everything he’d wanted with Rebecca. A family. If he’d been willing to risk his heart for Rebecca, why couldn’t he do it for Isabella? She was stronger, she was in love with him, she didn’t back away, even knowing what she did about him, something he would have always had to hide from Rebecca.
He could hurt her. He hadn’t worried about that so much with Rebecca, he’d been so concerned with taking care of her. But with Isabella, it would be worse.
No. He was walking away in the morning. For good.
They reached the stop at the hotel, and he stood, helped Isabella to her feet. A woman across the aisle, older, maybe the age of his foster mom, reached out to him.
“You have a lovely family,” she murmured.
He smiled tightly despite the pinch in his chest, nodded, and walked off.
“Bella. I’m going.” Alex crouched by her bed and stroked her hair back from her face, studied her beauty in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He’d resisted crawling into bed with her the past two nights, not to make love to her, but just to hold her, feel her warmth, her trust, even as she slept.
And now he was walking away.
She blinked awake and rolled toward him. “Already? Alex.” She reached out to touch his shirt, frowned when she encountered his camouflage shirt.
“I’m sorry.” About so much.
Her eyes sharpened. She understood. Still, she asked, “When will we see you again?”
“You don’t need me anymore, Bella.”
“But I want you.”
He didn’t answer that, couldn’t, just let the soft words roll through him. Instead, he pushed back from the bed, not rising yet. “Take care of yourself and the little guy. The room is paid for another night, and there’s some cash—”
“We’ll be fine. We’re—going home after this. Let Hector meet his grandparents.”
“Good. That’s good.” He glanced at the clock. He should have left fifteen minutes ago, but he was dragging, and he knew the reason why.
She took his hand. “Be careful, Alex.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
He rose then and smirked. “You’re welcome.”
She sat as he made his way across the room to the door, following his progress with her eyes. He needed to turn away. He couldn’t do this, say goodbye.
“I love you,” she said again when he opened the door.
He took a deep breath before he could take the last step out. “Goodbye, Bella.”
You can go home again. Isabella drove her rental car around the mountains, through El Paso, over the state line and into Las Cruces. In the backseat, secure in his child seat, Hector alternately flipped through his books and looked at the scenery.
Las Cruces was a beautiful little town at the foot of the Organ Mountains on the New Mexico side, and she caught her breath to see the place for the first time in six years.
Just like she’d caught her breath to hear her mama’s voice when she’d called from Orlando.
Was it okay if she came home for a little while? Did they want to meet their grandson?
She might never be sure if Hector was her ticket home. If her parents would be just as happy to see her, alone.
She turned and turned and turned again, her body remembering the way home. There it was, the little ranch house where she’d grown up, restless and unappreciative. It had never looked so beautiful, with its new coat of sand-colored paint, neatly trimmed grass, flowers on the porch.
Everything blurred and she pried her fingers from the steering wheel and turned to look at Hector with a smile. “Do you want to go meet your grandparents?”
Then they were there, running out to the car, pulling her out, hugging her, pulling Hector out, staring at him, stroking him, laughing, crying, never letting go of Isabella.
She knew she’d have to talk to them, knew she’d have to make up for disappearing six years ago. But for now, she was home.
***
Alex set the bottle of beer on the table in front of his father, drank from his own before sitting.
“Don’t tell your mother,” Tim Shepard said, opening the bottle.
“Why does she keep it if you can’t drink it?”
“Hoping you’ll come home.” He took a long drink, one eye on the door.
“I come home enough.”
His father nodded. “More than most men your age. Something different, this time, though.”
Alex kept his gaze on the beer. “What do you mean?”
“You’re tense, restless. Like you were when you came to us. Something go wrong on this last mission?”
Alex’s heart jumped just a little. He didn’t lie to his father. “No, sir. Not this one.”
His father leaned back. “The one before. The one with the girl and her child.”
“Yeah.” Alex shoved the beer away, watched it slide in the condensation, then scraped one hand down his face. “I can’t get her out of my head. Even on the last mission, Cervantes had to call me on it.”
“You love her?”
Alex snorted. “I thought I loved Rebecca, look how that ended up.”
“So how is this different?”
Alex studied the label of his beer, saw Bella’s face. “Isabella is strong, so fucking strong—”
“Alex.”
His face heated when his father chided him for his language, and he apologized for the slip. “I started off thinking she was like my—real mother, you know, that she was only after money and pleasure, no matter what the cost. I kept telling myself that even after I knew it wasn’t true, because I wanted her so bad, and I thought—” He shook his head. “I thought that could hold me off. But she’s amazing and tough and there’s this light in her, especially when she’s with her son, Hector. I start thinking about it—can I be a good dad to someone that little? I mean, I didn’t have a dad till I was older. But he’d have good schools on base. Living on base might be hard for Bella, she can be a little hellion, but I think she’ll adjust.”
“Son.” His father leaned close, eyebrows lifted. “You sound like—”
“Yes, sir, but how do I know it’s real?” He pushed to his feet. “How can I tell it’s love and not lust and not obsession? If I go
to her and tell her that I love her, what guarantee do I have that it will last? I mean, she won’t tell me no, she said she loved me, but how can I be sure she knows what it means? Neither of us have had the best judgment when it comes to that.”
His father sat back with a sigh and tasted his beer. “The fact that you’re worried about it assures me a little. The idea that you’re planning for a future.”
Alex looked over. “Yeah?”
“If it was lust, you’d be thinking about how long before you got tired of her. If it was obsession, you wouldn’t be here asking me if it was the right thing. You already have the answer, Alex. I know it’s hard for you to trust your feelings, but you need to.”
“I love her?”
His father chuckled. “Way to sound convinced, my boy.”
Alex dropped against the back of his chair with a grin. “I love her.” He stood up and threw his arms up into the air. “I love her!”
His mother came out on the porch, drawn by the commotion. Alex snatched her up and spun her around.
“I love her.”
His mother swatted him with the dishtowel. “Then go tell her, you dummy.”
Alex stood at the edge of the sidewalk, watching the young woman in the shorts and tank top splashing her son in the plastic kiddie pool, jumping in and kicking the water up, jumping out again when he returned a wave of water.
She looked so happy. Did he have any right walking back into her life and saying, “Hey, look, I was wrong, you were right, I love you, let’s give this a shot?” He was asking a lot of her, to move to North Carolina with him, so she could be there for him between missions.
Goddamn, he never used to be this indecisive. But one decision had never meant more.
Before he could second-guess himself back to the car, she looked up and saw him.
Even from this distance, he saw the question in her eyes. What did this mean, him turning up here? He could see the hope. God, he loved her hope, the belief that she’d find her son, the trust that he’d stand by her side.
He wanted to honor that trust, live with that hope. He wanted her light to chase all his shadows away.
And then she was running toward him, long brown legs eating up the ground. She flung her arms around him, holding tight, her legs flying off the ground as he wrapped his arms around her. She raised her head, looked into his eyes, saw something there, because she kissed him like she’d been starving for him, hard and hot and open mouthed.
Something struck his leg, attached to it, soaking his neatly pressed slacks. Hector. He loosened his hold on Isabella enough to look down at the grinning toddler, felt himself grinning in response.
From a distance he heard a woman calling. The light in Bella’s eyes changed to mischief and she peeled herself off him, but didn’t let go, pressed herself to his other side, clinging to his arm to show he didn’t have a chance of escape.
He followed her gaze to the house, where a woman with Isabella’s eyes stood, hands together, watching.
“Are you up for meeting my mama?” she asked, but started leading him down the sidewalk before he could answer.
Dinner was a cheerful affair, and if he hadn’t been adopted by the Shepards, he would never have known how to deal. Bella’s dad watched him warily, her mom kept trying to feed him, Hector clamored for his attention, and all the while Bella smiled, knowledge in her eyes.
He wished he knew what she did.
After dinner, her mother chased them outside and they sat on the bench of a brand-new swing set.
“He’s not spoiled or anything,” Alex said, trailing his finger along the chain of the swing as she curled up beside him. She hadn’t let go of him yet, as if she was afraid he’d disappear or run away. Something in him flinched. He was here to ask her to come to North Carolina with him. How could he take her away from the family she’d just rediscovered?
“Neither of us are.” She rested her head on her shoulder and sighed. “You’re probably wondering why I left.”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“My family is great, but not what I’d call adventurous. I wanted adventure.”
“Now you’ve had it.”
She laughed. “More than my share.”
“So you’re ready to settle down.”
The catch in her breath told him she caught his meaning.
“Depends on what kind of settling down you’re thinking of.”
He shifted so he could look at her, and regretted that the movement dislodged her head from his shoulder. “The kind where you come to North Carolina and learn how to be a soldier’s wife.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled. “That doesn’t really sound like settling down.”
His lips twitched. “No, it’s just another kind of adventure, come to think about it.”
“A soldier’s wife,” she repeated. “Are you sure, Alex, after everything you know about me?”
“This is what I know about you.” He cupped her face in his palms. “You’re passionate and loyal and loving. There’s a light inside you I can’t stand to be away from. Maybe I’m selfish in wanting you with me, but—”
She covered his hand with hers. “No. Not selfish.”
He reached into his pocket for the square box that had been riding on his hip for the past few hours. He opened it with fumbling fingers and presented it to her. “I love you, Bella. I want you to know you’re not taking all the risk here.”
“I know all about risks, good and bad,” she murmured, looking from the ring to his face, her eyes just as bright as the diamond. “You’re a risk I’m willing to take.”
About the Author
MJ Fredrick knows about chasing dreams. Twelve years after she completed her first novel, she signed her first publishing contract. Now she divides her days between teaching 4th grade students how to write and diving into her own writing, traveling everywhere in her mind, from Belize to Honduras to Africa to the past.
To learn more about MJ, please visit www.mjfredrick.comwww.mjfredrick.com or www.marywritesromance.blogspot.com. You can email her at [email protected] or join her Yahoo group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mjfredrick. She’s also on Facebook and Twitter under MJFredrick.
Look for these titles by M. J. Fredrick
Now Available:
Hot Shot
Beneath the Surface
When past and present meet, secrets lie beneath the surface.
Beneath the Surface
© 2009 M.J. Fredrick
In retrospect, perhaps archaeologist Mallory Reeves shouldn’t have delivered the divorce papers to her estranged husband mere weeks before her marriage to another man. She knew seeing Adrian again would stir up memories, but she didn’t expect so many of them to be good, not after the mess they both made three years ago.
She also didn’t expect to want to stay at the dig site on the Yucatan Peninsula. But the lure of the ancient ship and, yes, her sexy ex provide more of a draw than the white picket fence she thought she wanted.
Marine archaeologist Adrian Reeves has good reason to trust no one. His former partner—and former best friend—made off with his last archaeological find. And his wife left him, frustrated by his obsession for professional revenge.
Now both Mallory and his nemesis have returned, and it can’t be an accident that they’ve turned up in the middle of the most important excavation of his career. Seeing her again unearths old pain—and rekindles never-forgotten desire. Now he has to decide if he can trust Mallory again. More importantly, if he can trust himself with her.
Warning: Smokin’ hot archaeologists, painful memories, breathtaking underwater scenes and a passion that won’t die.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Beneath the Surface:
Something was off, something was wrong. Adrian realized it the minute the ship came into view the following day. It wasn’t covered, for one thing. Had the currents shifted in the past twenty-four hours, had they pushed the rubber sheet off the ship? He scanned the site and
saw the tarp flipped back, not rolled as if it had been pushed by water.
As a result of being uncovered, much of the ancient wood had dissolved into the water. His stomach clenched. The more wood he lost, the more the integrity of the site was compromised. He couldn’t afford that.
He finned over to a curved shape rising out of the ocean floor. That hadn’t been there yesterday, had it? Or in their excitement over finding the figurehead, had they missed it? His heart rate picked up when he realized it was an amphora, and he reached for it.
A slender shape shot out of the mouth of the amphora. Shock blended with the sharp pain in his arm and he dropped the amphora as he jolted backwards.
Shit. Shit. Fucking moray eel had made its home in the ceramic vase. Adrian had been too distracted to notice. Hell and damn.
Before he could turn to inspect the damage, Mallory was beside him, squeezing the wound closed. His blood drifted into the water in a dark cloud. Mallory’s brow furrowed in concern as she realized they were in danger.
Sharks.
With his free arm, he motioned to Toney and Jacob, then to Mallory, and pointed up. They needed to get out of the water in case a nosy shark came to investigate. Mallory looked at him a moment before she took his other hand and clamped it over the wound on his triceps. He didn’t dare look to see how bad the damage was; he couldn’t risk letting more blood into the water.
Mallory swam to the others, signaled what had happened and motioned them to go up. The two men exchanged a glance, then nodded before ascending to the first decompression stop.
And Mallory swam to him. What the hell was she doing? He gave her his worst scowl, but she merely pushed his hand away and covered the wound with her own. So she squeezed a little harder than she should have—her way of getting revenge?
She gave him a questioning look and mimed swimming. He nodded. With her hand firmly on his arm, they swam up to where Toney and Jacob dangled near the decompression line. Mallory scanned the water, before looking at him again. He made a half-assed okay sign and her frown deepened.
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