“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “It was just a slip of the tongue. People say things they don’t mean in the midst of passion.”
“I don’t think so, Laurie.” Damien shook his head as he crossed the room and stood next to her. “I think you meant every word.”
Part of him, deep down, wanted it to be true—needed her to love him, even if he didn’t want such a messy emotion in his life.
“Forget I said anything,” she said flatly. “A lot has happened in the past couple of weeks—romance novels, adrenaline, and hero worship.”
Dismissing the subject as inconsequential, she moved the electronic mouse and looked at her computer screen. The cursor blinked in the middle of the page.
“You probably don’t have much time but I need to get some work done before Stacy gets home.” She flashed a genuine, warm smile. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
Uncertain how to pursue the subject, or if he even wanted to, Damien settled onto the old leather sofa. A comfortably worn recliner sat diagonally to the end of the sofa. Tired from the long drive on his motorcycle, he stretched out. His head lay on the arm of the couch. His feet stuck past the other end. With a weary sigh he relaxed more than he had in a month.
Sleep, however, eluded him. Did Laurie really love him? Or were her rationalizations nearer the mark? It made perfectly logical sense. He didn’t doubt the powerful sexual attraction that drew him to her like a magnet. Passion exploded like a volcano every time he touched her.
But there was no future for them. Their relationship, their needs, was based on the tension and adrenaline of danger. It would never last. They had nothing else to hold them to each other.
And he was a Navy SEAL. He took risks no one else wanted to think about. He did jobs no one else could or would do. Love and family—those parts of the American Dream did not fit into the simple equation of his life. So why had he returned to her? To exorcise a ghost? Unable to find the answers, he slipped into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
“Mommy!” Stacy called excitedly as she ran through the house. “Whose motorcycle is that?”
Abruptly jerked out of sleep, Damien rolled off the sofa. He was wide-awake and alert as he rolled over the floor. Heart pounding fiercely, he quickly scanned the room for danger. He turned his puzzled gaze on Laurie. She didn’t look upset or concerned.
She chuckled. “It’s just Stacy. She saw your bike.”
“Where are you, Mommy?”
“In the office, honey.” Mischief and pleasure sparkled in her emerald eyes.
Damien shook his head. That brief surge of adrenaline had his pulse thundering in his ears. He closed his eyes, counted to ten as he listened to small pounding footsteps. Calmer, he ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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opened his eyes and waited. Stacy ran up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped abruptly in the doorway. Her eyes widened in shock then sparkled with pure delight.
“Damien!” She launched herself at him.
He caught her and fell backward on the fall. Stacy wriggled excitedly on his stomach, planting wet sloppy kisses over his face. Looking up at her, Damien swallowed hard. He didn’t remember the last time anyone had been glad to see him.
“Hi, Shortstuff.” He grinned at her and sat up. Stacy stayed in his lap and smiled broadly at him, her arms tight around his neck.
“Are you going to stay?” she demanded with a child’s bluntness. Eager delight gleamed in her eyes.
Damien blinked, swallowed again to rid his throat of the sudden emotional ache.
“For a few days,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet Laurie’s.
“Okay.” Stacy jumped off his lap and raced into her bedroom across the hall.
Caught in Laurie’s speculative gaze, he arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“She likes you,” Laurie said softly, seriously.
“That worries you?” He studied her, curious and oddly uncomfortable.
“Not at the moment.”
“I shouldn’t have come back,” he stated gruffly. He had not been able to stay away from her. He wanted a few hours, a few days, before he disappeared from her life for good. It would be harder to leave every time he came back. So he had to make sure this was the last time.
“Maybe not,” Laurie agreed huskily. “But I’m glad you did.”
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Chapter Nine
Six months later, Damien McAllister lay almost half buried on top of a sand dune overlooking the Khash River in Afghanistan. Even his tan and brown desert camouflage uniform did not do anything to stop the blistering sun blazing over his head. Though hot and uncomfortable, he didn’t move a muscle as he scanned the riverbank through state of the art range finding binoculars. Tents and various jeeps and trucks dotted the sand under camouflage nets. He studied the largest tent. One whole side remained open. Several shabbily uniformed men sat around a large rectangular table.